I love de-aged AUs especially around the Bats because they didn’t grow up around each other and never saw each other as very small children so when it happens, it's like getting slapped.
It happens to Dick and he reverts back to eight year old Dick, full of energy and feelings too big for his body. And of course, he’s fast as fuck and has no sense of morality giving quarter to the strangers in eccentric costumes trying to pick him up. He breaks Tim’s nose, bites Jason and pummels Damian to the ground, he’s untapped rage and he’s yelling for Bruce or Alfred. Bruce appears and little Dick scales him like a fucking tree, perched on his shoulder like a parrot and for a second, Bruce who had no idea what has happening, is like, oh, I remember this. Dick isn’t even sorry to have caused injury and havoc. He shrugs it off, “you fucked around and found out”
Everybody thinks child Jason will be difficult as fuck but no, he’s sweet as sugar. He gets de aged to maybe five or six. He laughs easily and genuinely, with none of older Jason’s snark. He wants Dick to play with him or wants to go where he’s going, he holds Bruce’s hand wherever they go because safe, he feels safe. And he starts crying when somebody starts yelling, burying his face into Bruce’s leg or hiding behind Damian because when his other dad yelled… Jason is only cheered up by a prospect of getting a story read to him or getting a very large hot meal and Alfred is like, nobody fucking touch me, because he forgot - he actually forgot how small and undernourished Jason was. When he’s aged up again, Alfred insititues a bi-nightly family dinner and Jason has to attend or Alfred is showing up to Crime Alley with a glock.
With Tim, he gets de aged to maybe nine or ten and unlike most kids, he’s not asking where his parents are or what’s going on. He’s practically swinging off of Jason, babbling about all the cool Robin moves he saw or begging Dick to show him how to do flips. He’s weirdly attached to Damian who in turn in devoted to him, I’m talking Tim sat on his hip 24/7 and fed a stream of animal crackers from Damian’s pocket.
As for Damian, he gets de aged until he’s maybe a year or two old. He’s throwing tantrums left right and centre, red in the face from screaming and crying for his mom or his nanny but Alfred seems to know what to do, he has that kid in a wrapper tied to Bruce’s chest or back. Because lets face it, Talia probably wasn’t allowed to baby her baby while he was that little. Bruce calls her to tell her what has happened and for a day and a night, Bruce and Talia get to have that life they were denied with their baby boy. Damian is salty as fuck when he gets aged back up, mainly because “i’m not a child” but partly because, he missed what it was like to see his parents like that.
But de aged Bruce? He’s six or seven, he’s confused because who are all these strange people im his house, where is is mom and dad? Alfred, where is Mommy and Daddy? And Alfred ages like ten years as he just scoops Master Bruce up, telling him that it is going to be alright, it's going to be just fine. Alfred can't move out of his chair for the entire time Bruce is de aged because Bruce Wayne was and is a Velcro child and Alfred is perfectly fine with that.
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⋮ ⌗ ┆ Content Warning ── sfw/fluff, established relationship, comfort, comforting Floyd, he squeezes you, yuu! reader, implied female reader, hugging, soft kisses, overall just a comfy, cute fic <3 pretty short, not beta-read, just something to make me feel better !
⋮ ⌗ ┆ Author's Note ── i've had such a difficult two days, im so sore and in so much pain ugh floyd save me, your my only comfort in this cruel world. Artist cr: @/tukityou1 on X
YOU CAN TELL FLOYD IS PISSED OFF. at what? you couldn't say, it was a mix of probably azul scolding him for the fifth time today or the fact he lost a bet with ace when playing basketball and is on the verge of squeezing' the living soul out of someone who dares to even breathe near him.
you found him laid face-down on YOUR bed when you entered ramshackle, his arms wrapped around your pillows and his face buried in the cases that were covered in snot and stain tears.
was he, crying ?
well, not at this exact moment―it was a lot of muffled groans and screams when would kick his legs on the mattress to make it bounce, the floor board's creaked.
his fingers grip the pillow at the sound of the old door closing, your knapsack falling to the floor as your clicked heel taps against the floor when you make your way to him.
" floyd ? "
your voice came out more like a whisper, loud enough to get a reaction out of him, which wasn't much. he let out a muffled groan, fast and annoyed―you knew this wasn't going to be easy.
" oh, floyd ... "
you stopped a few steps away from the bed, his school jacket tossed by your feet, messy and fully forgotten. his vest u buttoned and white dress shirt wrinkly.
with your hand on your hips, your tongue pushing against your inner cheek you looked around the room for the one thing you've kept for moments such like these.
your eyes scanned your room until you found it, a happy smile forms on your lips as you excitedly jog to grab a stuffed animal you've owned for a while while living here.
twisted wonderland fairs sure had a ton of options for cute, fluffy animals. but thankfully, being in a relationship with floyd meant a certain shrimp plush meant the entire world to him
he must have been in such a bad mood, he didn't even see it lurking in the corner of your room to cry into.
with the plush in hand, you slowly walked back to floyds figure―a soft and gentle hand reaches to pat the back of his hair, your fingers playing with his teal colored locks as you whispered, " floyd~ look what i have ! " with a small smile on your lips.
the boy mumbles in the pillow, something incoherent, yet he still turns his head to peak over at you―his multi-colored eyes land on the shrimp plush in your hands, gesturing him to take him with a small wiggle.
" take this little guy, squeeze the daylights out of him, not my pillo-OOWAAH― "
with a sudden tug on your arms, you find yourself dragged into floyd's chest and held tightly, your shrimp plush resting on your back with floyd's hands squeezing it every now and then.
he drops his face into the crook of your neck and lets his hair drape over your skin, tickling you gently. you didn't fight back, you just let him hold you for as long as he needed to.
the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only time floyd spoke was when he was telling you how much he loves you and how sorry he is for being such a hassle to deal with, something along those lines.
you just kiss his temple and play with the ends of his hair, fingers curling against the locks as you hummed softly, reminding him how much you love him, no matter how he acts.
18 + 🗯️ Thinking about..stoner Hyunjin & Felix using you up.
[ MINORS DNI !!!] m.list
warnings : fwb dynamic spit kink oral (f & m rec) fingering size kink double penetration throat fucking breeding kink mentions of smoking mentions of y/n’s ex dom Hyunjin & dom Felix dacryphilia lmk if more
sum } headcannons on how they’d be in this dynamic ! { READ !! = separate headcannons on the two boys and then both together !! }
[ Yu’s LoveNote ! ] my last writing was like..the 18th of jan..yooo my badddd…son im fucking crine im sorry
— HYUNJIN !
stoner! Hyunjin who cant keep himself from stuffing you full with his cum until your poor, abused hole can barely hold any in. His creamy release dripping down the plush flesh of your thighs as his long, calloused fingers work to push as much as he can catch back up inside you, eyes starstruck as you continue to clench tightly around his digits, no matter if he’s stretched you to your limits with his cock alone.
“fuck— would you look at that, angel. Just how I like you..completely fucked dumb with my seed. The only thing on your pretty little mind, yeah?”
stoner! Hyunjin who cant get enough of when you cry when bouncing on his dick, your wrecked sobs falling on deaf ears as his huge hands grab at your hips in a bruising grip, slamming you down on him harder just hear the screams tear from your throat, wether it be his name, for him to slow down or just a pained cry. But you knew all too well it turned him on wayyyy too much. You didn’t even know why you thought crying would work. It just had him cumming faster and harder then he usually does, grunting and moaning beneath you as you milk him dry.
“yeah..—fuck love..all those pretty tears for me? god your making it so fucking difficult.”
stoner! Hyunjin who LOVES eating you out straight after smoking. The high end Hes on has him going insane just thinking about his mouth on that sweet pussy of yours, burying his tongue into your tight entrance while his nose budged between your folds just perfectly enough to make your grip tighten on his hair and thighs clamp around his head. Hes a huge sucker for pussy when hes in this state, coming back up looking wrecked, sweating, hair fucked up and your juices mixed with his salvia dripping down his chin and right onto your clit. Which of course hes bitchy enough to suck straight up.
“Give me it all baby..all you’ve got i swear I’ll make y-you..feel s’ fuckin good..”
stoner! Hyunjin who never seems to have an off button when it comes to fingering. Each time your fussy, each time your ovulating the first thing Hes practically begging for is for you to ride his fingers till your shaking uncontrollably. The noises you make for him makes him go crazy, the spft, wet squelches each time he scissors his fingers wide enough to nudge against that sweet spot that has you falling apart beneath him beautifully every fucking time. Sometimes you even catch him drooling as you squirt all down his wrist, your folds slippery against the assault from his fingers, coating your release all over your puffy clit.
“thats it baby..fuck you look so pretty, you know that? all stupid for my fingers..”
— FELIX !
stoner! Felix who adores a good throat fucking, but what gets him going is when your lay back on the bed, head dangling off the end, and his thick, thick cock plunging in and out of your warm, welcoming throat. He loves being able to have access to shove your face all the way forward till your nose is poking just against his pelvic bone, brushing the soft fuzz of the barley-there trail. the deep but gentle groans that push past his lips unannounced just gets you more fucking soaked, and as the same as Hyunjin, he does NOT seem to have an off button during this.
“You can take it, I promise..just a little bit of a stretch. There you go..thats it..”
stoner! Felix who also has a breeding kink, but is a little better at hiding it. It’s easy to tell he is not ready for a kid, a mini lixie may sound cute to him. But it’s not enough to sacrifice what you give him. Yet, he still finds himself breathing heavily when he buried himself deep enough just to drag himself out enough for you to feel every vein as he plasters your walls white with his cum, he can’t lie that he doesn’t love it. Just the sight of you being so full off him and looking up at him as if you need more. It’s enough for him to break.
“Always fucking getting your way, arent you huh? always making me think this is fucking right..god you greedy girl.”
stoner! Felix who you wouldn’t expect it from, but 100% has a spit kink. Considering how dirty he can be in private, it really doesn’t surprise you. How fast he gets such a painful erection when slow, sensual kisses turn into you spitting into each others mouths, and how that turns into spitting over each other in general, mixing your releases with saliva is probably one of his favourite things to do. so bad it has his eyes rolling back every time he tastes your sweet release mixed with his spit.
“Tastes..so fucking good angel, cmon, one more for me..?”
stoner! Felix who has the two of you sharing a blunt while you ride him deep and slow, hips rolling in a gentle rhythm against his as smoke filled the room. The occasional grunt from him when you clench around him the only echoing sound as you pass smoke from mouth to mouth. But it would get increasingly harder, with how desperate he becomes to a point he starts plowing up into your tight cunt, eyes greedily watching as your breasts bounce with every filthy movement, the blunt suddenly forgotten between his fingers.
“your doing sooo good for me baby, cmere..”
— BOTH !
stoner! Hyunjin & Felix who LIVE for double penetration, it’s basically their entire personality tied together into one fucked up knot. Every time you three end up together, it’s always Felix beneath you, you stuck ontop of him in the middle, his cock pounding up into your weeping cunt you dont even know who’s name to moan, with Hyunjin suddenly pushing straight in after Felix, creating a biiiiig stretch for you to take, which had you screaming into the sheets beside felixs head. Their relentless movement wasnt helping either. And neither was their fucking communication. Rougher, harder, slower. Whatever the fuck it was. But the release? Not a single complaint was heard. Gushing all over them as they turned you into a dumb-fucked doll.
“One more round for us, pretty girl..we promise we’ll be done so soon..”
stoner! Hyunjin and Felix who have been the best two fucks of your life ever since your last ex. He’d barely give you anything, dont even ask if he made you cum. Not once. But with these two? They won’t LEAVE until your screaming and crying from overstimulation, begging for no more than what they’d already gave you. But they never let up. Always needing to prove the point that they were better, and certainly, bigger. The proud grins that shimmered across their faces at your fucked out body after they finish. It was atleast a good thing that you left your ex when you could.
“See how we can do better than he could? your so fucking tight for us angel..clenching around nothing at the sight of us? How pathetic..”
stoner! Hyunjin and Felix who are genuinely good for when you need a break. Always having endless amounts of whatever you needed at whatever time. No charge, no matter and no after payments. Just, there. Always there even at your lowest or at your highest. You feel a rush of emotions whenever you see just one of them. But the best feeling is knowing that you’ve certainly found what you needed after ages of denial.
“You know we’re gonna deny every time you ask to pay, right? Your our best payment. Nothing else.”
𝒄𝒘 : leon kennedy x fem!reader, comfortノa little angsty, clingyノanxious! reader, straight haired reader, i feel like this is a little ass too im sorry, read on ao3 here ᴡᴄ: 𝟷.𝟾ᴋ
days like these are the worst.
it may be selfish, but you wish you could just keep leon all to yourself. unfortunately, the world needs him — he has a job not many are willing to do, and you have to respect that, even if it makes you want to scream, cry, rip your own hair out… it's rough, and even though you've been with leon for years, you've never gotten used to it.
you've never gotten used to the lonely nights in your shared apartment, the empty bed you have to sleep in that only smells like the memory of your boyfriend, the cold mornings that you spend by yourself, cooking a too large breakfast since you're too used to cooking for two.
leon hates it too. he hates the danger — he used to not care, he would sacrifice himself for the greater good of the world, but now he has you. and now he selfishly catches himself thinking twice before jumping into life-threatening situations. it throws him off his usual cool-headed demeanour that can think quickly.
he hates the thought of leaving you all by yourself where he can't protect you. he has to forget all about you when he's in the field, he can't let anything distract him from the target at hand. but those nights when he's camping out in disgusting wastelands, surrounded by whatever fuckery he's been told to destroy, he holds that special picture of you he keeps in his pocket close — it's the only thing that helps him get to sleep when he's laying on rocks and smelling decomposing bodies.
you've been clinging to him all day, hardly letting him have a moment of alone time — not that he wants it anyways, but he can't help but be a little amused by your clinginess. he woke up and you were already nestled against his chest, your legs intertwined with his with your arms clutched around his waist. even in your sleep you looked anxious, wrinkles marred your delicate skin from the furrow in your brow — like your subconscious already knew this was the last day you'd see leon for a few weeks, if you're lucky…
poor thing, he woke you up all gentle-like, even cooking breakfast when that's usually your job, but there was just something off with you. you stayed quiet all morning, you could only nod when he asked how breakfast was. that's just how you tend to get, he should be used to it by now, but it never fails to worry him. he hates that you get so anxious you can barely function, but the best he can do is indulge in your needs.
this behaviour only persisted throughout the rest of the day. you followed him around like a little puppy, either holding onto his hand or his arm if he's busy. you'd hardly let him go to the bathroom, lingering around the outside of the door until he was done — and god, trying to shower was a nightmare, you sneaked in behind him, quiet as a mouse as you wrapped your arms around his middle. he had a little difficulty getting the two of you clean but he made it work, he knows how tough it is for you to go without his loving for so long.
chores were just as difficult, if not more. doing the dishes was fine, you just stayed put, but trying to vacuum? god, he kept tripping over you and almost shoving you — he didn't tell you to sit down though, he knew you needed this, just to spend a little longer with him before he has to leave.
you ended up spending most of the day on the sofa, watching a tv show you've already watched a thousand times but it's still as good as the first time you watched it — he usually offers to take you on a fun day out before he goes on a mission, but you always deny it, you just want him. his hand stroked soft circles against your lower back, his other running through the silky strands of your hair. at least you were calm then, you kept yourself snug against him, breathing smooth and slow.
but now it's bedtime, and this time you won't follow him. he's sat upright against the pillows, an open book resting on his thigh, dressed in a soft t-shirt and his boxers. you're perched at the end of the bed in your little night-gown, absolutely refusing to come sit next to him, even though he can see the way your eyes droop and how you're stifling your yawns — way earlier than you usually do so you must be exhausted.
"c'mon princess, i know you're tired. you do this every time..,"
leon sighs, patting the bed next to him with that fond smile on his face. you know it's silly to do this, you just can't risk falling asleep — if you fall asleep, that's it, he's gone. leon always leaves before you wake up, you beg him to wake you up but he refuses to. you'll just be upset, he can't have the last memory of you being you crying your little eyes out. he much prefers seeing you asleep, all calm and peaceful when he sneaks out the apartment.
"no, you're gonna—… you're gonna leave…"
god, he hates the way your voice trembles at the end, the way your bottom lip wobbles as tears well in those pretty eyes. yet he can't help but feel the corners of his lips tug upwards; you're so sweet, depriving yourself of sleep just to stay with him a little longer. silly girl…
"i'll keep you up, we can talk a little… c'mere…"
his arms widen, coaxing you over to lay on his inviting chest. and what kind of person would you be if you denied that offer? you crawl forwards before settling yourself between his thighs, resting you head down onto his shoulder. leon's chest rumbles with praise against you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
"atta girl…"
you shiver at the praise, nuzzling into the warmth of his neck which still smells like his expensive shower gel. his hand resumes those circles onto your lower back, spreading warmth through your body. your breathing slows ever so slightly, leaving you in your thoughts once again. leon presses another kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the sweet scent of your shampoo, stroking down your hair and tucking it behind your ear.
"there you go…"
his embrace doesn't help, all you can think about is how for the next two weeks or so, he won't be here. the apartment will be empty again, and you'll be wracked with anxiety about his well-being. 'he's the leon kennedy, he'll be fine' is what you want to think, it's what he usually tells you — the cocky bastard — but it never helps. all that soothes you is seeing him back home, in the flesh, unharmed and happy to see you after so long. he gives you the biggest hugs, the longest kisses, and— well… something else if he's feeling up to it.
the tears start flowing easily, falling down your cheeks like a waterfall while the tiniest whimpers and choked sobs escape your parted lips. this is always leon's least favourite part; he feels helpless, there's nothing he can do or say that will make you feel better, the most he can do is just be your rock, soothing you to sleep once you've worn yourself out. unfortunately, your stubbornness means you can neglect your needs for way longer than you should just to stay with him a little longer.
"fuck… i'm sorry, baby… you know i'd rather stay here with you…"
all you can muster up is a small nod, and the tears just keep coming. those little sniffles never fail to squeeze leon's heart, coiling around it and constricting tight. he starts laying back slowly, bringing you down with him so that you lay down on top of him, tucking the blanket all nice and cosy around your shoulders.
it's warm, leon's chest is you safe haven. the hums of your boyfriends soothing words beneath your ear help you think of better times — what it will be like when he comes home, how he'll pick you up and spin your around, smothering you in all the kisses you need. leon thought that softness in him died a long time ago, but you bring it out in him. you find your lids fluttering, heavy with the sleep that you crave so much. no matter how hard you try, it's calling to you, and you simply can't resist.
"get some sleep, okay? i'll be back in no time, i promise…"
your boyfriend presses one last kiss to your head, and you let yourself relax. finally. your body relaxes on top of his, soft breaths fanning against his neck as you travel into dreamland — it's not the most restful place, especially with the anxiety still humming inside you, but after a while it lets you forget reality, even if it's for just a moment.
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
everything is packed, he's ready to go. the sun is still below the horizon, only letting a hint of light out, dyeing the sky a gentle blue. he's left the usual note he leaves on your bedside table — 'breakfast is in the fridge, if you need anything chris is on speed-dial. i love you, i'll be back as soon as possible.'
you look so peaceful, curled up with the plushie he bought for you on the first birthday of yours the two of you spent together, smelling faintly of his cologne. he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, exposing your sleepy face, your cheek all squishes up against the pillows, lips pouted as you let out a few soft snores.
his princess… god, he hopes he comes back to that pretty, little face. he'll try to keep in contact to the best of his abilities, but his modes of communication aren't exactly bullet-proof, or monster-proof, or no-signal proof. the most he can do is make sure he stays alive to see you again when he comes back.
with that final thought, he leans forwards, gently cupping the back of your head as he plants his lips to your forehead, holding the kiss longer than he normally would. just to feel you, to linger on the warmth he won't feel for far longer than he can stand.
after a while, he leans back up, re-adjusting the blanket around you before picking up his duffel bag and sneaking out the room, leaving you all alone in the apartment once again. he'll be back soon, he knows he will, and he'll just have to hold onto that fact until he makes his way home to you once again.
a/n: if u dont like dont readddd :D, not proofread ohhh yeahhh
warnings: smut (mdni), stepcest, steve is lowk manipulative.... i kinda got carried away #YOLO
wc: 1.2k
you and your step brother steve are home alone on a friday night. its routine by now, your parents always go out for their date nights on a weekly basis, not returning till late. steve always takes advantage of this time alone with you. why wouldnt he? youre so pretty, gullible and naive, he almost feels bad, but its amusing. its so easy to get you flustered.
to you, steve is the best step brother you could ask for. hes caring, attentive, and just so sweet with you. deep down, you try to ignore the way he makes your core ache and cheeks burn. he always calls you sweet names and can be overly affectionate when your parents arent around which makes your stomach twist every single time. at first, you questioned it a little bit, because well, hes your step brother, but he always reassured you, insisting its just how he shows his love. hes your step brother, you love and trust him! he would never steer you wrong.
as a result of how ridiculously charming and sexy your step brother is, youve grown to look forward to the nights where your parents go out. youre fresh out of the shower, making your way to the living room where steve is watching some movie he had put on.
“baby, c’mere,” he pats his lap, “movies getting good. come watch with me.”
you can feel your ears go hot at the pet name, and you happily make your way to the couch, sitting yourself on his lap.
you lean back on his shoulder, smiling up at him, “hi.”
“hey, you,” he grins, his arms wrap around your waist, readjusting you on his lap. “they just left. its me and you for now.”
internally, youre screaming. you love being alone with steve! youre trying to focus on the movie as best as you can, but with his fingers tracing idle circles on your hip, its becoming difficult. similarly for steve, the way your core is directly above his cock drives him crazy. youre not that dumb, you can feel him stiffen beneath you.
“steve,” you giggle, “youre pokin’ me.”
“not my fault. its biology, sweetheart,” he mutters, like its the most casual thing in the world. you hum in acknowledgement, doing everything you can to ignore the way your core is aching at the feeling of him against you. the thin material of your sleep shorts arent helping.
steve swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he feels the warmth of your body through your pjs. the fabric does nothing to hide how affected you both are and it's killing him.
"fuck," he breathes out under his breath before suddenly pausing the movie. without warning, he turns you slightly in his lap so that youre facing him more directly.
subconciously, you rock your hips against him. your eyes widen the moment you realize what you just did. you dont know whats going on, but this is definitely crossing the line with normal step sibling behavior.
“im-im sorry!” you stammer, he only grips your hips tighter
steves entire body tenses the moment you grind against him, a loud groan falls from him, “holy shit”. the small movement sent heat throughout his body and shivers up his spine, “youre makin it hard for me to behave right now.”
the moment you keep squirming, his patience snaps. he crashes his lips onto yours, desperate and hungry from all the tension that has built up between you two. steve swiftly lays you back on the couch, his large frame hovering over you, never breaking the kiss. his bulge pressed right against your pussy, eliciting a whine from you.
“you trust me, dont you?” he murmurs in between kisses, “i know you do”. steve presses soft, lingering kisses along your jawline as he speaks in that low, persuasive tone of his, the one that always makes you melt. “i take care of you more than anybody else does.”
youre so caught up in it all, you trust him so much, you nod immediately, “i trust you,” you speak softly, “more than anything.”
“good,” he presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “thats my girl.”
steve shifts slightly, the tightness in his jeans becoming unbearable, he pops open his jeans to give himself some relief from the pressure, causing him to press closer against you involuntarily.
“fuckme,” steve groans as the dampness of his briefs become more noticeable, the friction of the fabric of his own underwear and your sleep shorts is making him lose control. your heart is racing as you feel him rock himself against you, the heat of his cock nudging against your clit making your lips part. this is an out of body experience for you, youve never felt this way before.
“you feel that?” his breathing is uneven as he stares down at your face.
"y-yes, steve," you moan as he ruts harder against you. you can tell hes holding back.
“just need to feel it, just once,” before you can protest (like you were planning on saying no to him anyway..), hes yanking off your shorts and panties. the cool air hits your exposed skin, making you gasp.
“oh my god, baby. youre gonna kill me,” steve breathes, taking in the sight of your pussy.
he pulls his briefs down, his hard cock springing out. your eyes widen. hes huge. steve sees the hesistance in your face
“hey,” he shakes his head at you, “dont worry. id never do anything to hurt you. trust me, alright?”
his words relax you, and steve smiles down at you rubbing your cheekbone with his thumb. you are so captivated by him. steve positions himself carefully, his thick length sliding between your slick folds without pushing inside. the head of his cock nudging your clit with every back and forth motion. with the combination of your own arousal and his precum beading onto your pussy, it allows his thrusts to move smoothly. hes not even in you and he has you seeing stars.
“just this,” he murmurs hoarsely, “we arent doing anything else.”
steve focuses on maintaining the slow, careful rhythm, his hips moving in tiny, controlled thrusts.
“see? not even inside,” he pants, “‘s not wrong. i promise.”
“ohmygod,” you shut your eyes, “feels good.”
“yeah? knew youd like this. want me to move a little faster?”
“please?” you mewl
he increases the pace just slightly, but enough for the coil in your belly to tighten.
“fuck– youre so wet.”
his hips move at the same pace, grinding against your sensitive clit on every pass. your moans and whines become needier and louder.
“there we go, let me hear you.”
“stevie,” you mewl as if its a warning.
he instantly knows your about to tip over the edge, his words only coax you more. “i know, i got you.”
his thrusts grow erratic as your orgasm hits you all at once. your body tenses, and your thighs begin to shake. steve rubs soft circles on your hip as if hes trying to ground you.
“told you it wasnt wrong,” he pants, “just showing you how much i love you. thats all baby.” he cums with a loud groan, spilling all over your mound.
things just got a whole lot more complicated with your step brother.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I just got to say high you has some brilliant ideas.
like how does the alpha Abbott story continue? How does their second conversation go, does the omega make it through to being a doctor? Like so many questions
answers to questions ;)
(yes i made a, b, and o blood match up to designations so what im not a real doctor im writing fanfiction)
*****
avoidance - fated part 2
alpha!jack abbot x omega!reader (f!reader)
series masterlist
*****
You know he's watching, can feel his stare across the dozens and dozens of patients across the department floor. At times, you even catch his scent, it's woodsy and warm, with a rich undertone of cocoa and-
No.
There's no time to worry about Dr. Abbot. You have too many patients being wheeled in, their delicate states requiring one hundred and ten percent of your attention. Difficult enough on a normal day, impossible when having to consider the impending doom of whatever just happened.
You're not naive. You know the deep shit you've gotten yourself into. But it's not like you had much of a choice. You wouldn't have gotten into the programs you did, from undergrad all the way to residency, had you not been pretending to be a beta. Plus, the ease to obtain scent patches, lotions, and suppressants made it easy.
It's the big year of 2025, medical technology has progressed to the point that an omega could hide their designation if they choose to do so. If it's recommended is another question. Doctors strongly advise against prolonged use, but if you wanted to be an attending, sacrifices would need to be made. And if you had to lie to your doctors because of your chosen field, that was nobody's business but your own. Sacrifices, right?
And sacrifice you did. Until Dr. Abbot had torn it all apart in so little words.
I'm sorry, doctor. I think your scent's starting to bleed through.
Stupid Dr. Abbot. After every fucking thing you've done to get here in your career. An omega practicing emergency medicine, and Abbot just had to come on in and tear it apart.
Your heart broke in the bathroom as you peeled the patches off of your neck, the skin underneath grown sensitive from irritation. As much as you wanted to hide, with the incoming MCI patients, you had to move. So, you slapped two new patches on, applied a quick layer of lotion, and made you way back to the floor.
It seems so long ago now. The countless patients you had treated- were treating -hasn't allowed you to think rationally about it for even a moment.
"I need a hand here!" Langdon. He's doing chest compressions on a patient. Jesse's there, taking the beta patient's temperature. You helped him stabilize them up when he first came in- a gunshot wound to the upper right chest. Triage had cleared him for pink, said that the wound missed any vital organs or arteries.
"What's happening?" You yell, running around the maze of gurneys. You raise your voice, nearly screaming, "We need a unit of B-pos!"
Someone off behind you calls back, "On it!"
"What happened here, Langdon?"
He shakes his head. "I dunno," his voice is thin from exertion. You doubt you'd be holding up much better in his situation.
The thermometer beeps. Jesse pulls it out and says, "97.5."
You suck a breath through your teeth. "Think we can work with that, Dr. Langdon?"
"I think we can. Oh-" Langdon juts his chin somewhere behind you. "Abbot's coming in with blood."
Shit.
You glance behind you and, lo and behold, Abbot is your gracious blood-getter. Abbot. The alpha who can fucking smell you.
Maybe you could convince him it was a fluke. You can lie to him. Just like with Robby and everybody else. Dismiss the whole scent thing as being someone else's. Kim was standing nearby, maybe you could convince him it was her scent.
Except, you would have to not be smelling now, and your sense of smell has so far proved to be an unreliable indicator. Unless... you could ask Langdon?
Fuck.
If Abbot comes around again and can smell you, there's no way you have even the slightest chance to convince Abbot that the scent thing was a fluke. It's Langdon or bust.
You feign a sniff, curling your nose. "Do you, um... do you smell that?" You ask, "An omega?"
Langdon looks genuinely perplexed at your question. You would laugh had it not been for the severity of the situation. "Yeah," he scoffs, not faltering in his chest compressions, "They're everywhere."
Right. The air is swirling with all different scents. Distress, hurt, even heats and ruts fill the air. It's like a needle in a haystack for anyone who doesn't know what they're looking for. But Abbot does.
Speaking of the devil, your nose is greeted a familiar, woodsy smell. Calm, even among all this panic and bloodshed. As much as you hate to admit it, the scent grounds you ever so slightly.
"What's happening?" Abbot starts hooking the patient up to blood. His eyes flick to you, he nods curtly. You purse your lips.
"GSW to the upper right chest. Pushed one unit of B-pos. Bleeding stopped with pressure and has been temporarily bandaged," you nod at Langdon.
Langdon clears his throat. A bead of sweat drips down his face. "Patient found unresponsive after estimated two minute downtime. CPR started immediately, pushing first round of epi."
"Hold compressions," Abbot's voice is calm, collected, and unfortunately very alpha. The rumble of it nearly compels you to force Langdon to stop compressions yourself. Luckily, he beats you to it.
Jack presses a gloved finger to his neck. "I have a pulse."
"Oh thank God," you breathe.
Abbot nods, staring at the patient for a long moment. He presses on the beta's stomach and hums. Pulling the beta's shirt up reveals a bruised abdomen.
Jack looks up. When his eyes meet yours, you could swear a smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "I think we have our diagnosis."
Jack nods at Jesse. "Take him to surgery. They have two ORs prepped for immediate intake. Good work, you three."
Langdon doesn't waste any time, he's out of there before Jesse has even started moving. In no time, it's just you and Abbot. He looks sheepish. Or as sheepish as an alpha can look in his special 'I'm literally the boss' vest.
Whatever. You need him off your back.
"Thanks for the blood," you say tentatively. He doesn't respond. "You should probably head back to red. It sounds like there's another car-"
"I'm sorry," he blurts.
You shake your head, checking around you to make sure nobody's close enough to eavesdrop. "I don't know what you're talking about," you utter, praying that if you just ignore it, Abbot's leave you alone. "There's nothing-"
"I told Robby." Holy fuck. "I didn't mean to." Holy fuck. "I thought he knew." Holy fuck.
"Holy fuck."
"I'm so sorry. I'm gonna talk to him, try to convince him not to-"
"Don't," your voice is fragile, so thin you hardly recognize it. You can't listen to another word. That alpha's done enough. You want to accept his apology, but even thinking about it makes tears well up in your eyes. "Dr. Abbot, I think you've done enough."
You shake your head as you turn. You think you can hear him take a step closer, but you're already on your way. Hopefully a patient will distract you.
SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.
note: hi lovelies!!! unmmmmm its been a very hot minute. sorry!!!! my job and uni prep have taken me hostage not to mention math exams woooowweee. im gonna try and be more active now and post a bit more, so hopefully look forward to that!!! also ill answer any asks asap 💞💞 ily all ok muah
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You think you mayyy have gotten ahead of yourself. A very slim maybe.
Sure, all these things probably needed to be said at some point, but jeez, you'd never met the guy before. You could've given it at least a day or two. Now, you're stuck in this situation. Cringing at yourself in the mirror, holding back from slamming your head against the mirror to rid yourself of these crippling memories.
Your eyebags—they speak for themselves—and your expression is anything but pleasant.
Last night was awkward. Awkward can't even begin to describe it, actually. It was excruciatingly awful, looking back on it. You have no idea what he is or was thinking, ir even how he acted outside of those diary entries. Maybe these assumptions were wrong. Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew.
(But it was hard to think this way when his expression; his words, they seemed to resonate with it so deeply).
Regardless, you can't dwell on this forever. You have a mission to do. Mission being; not failing school and incurring the wrath of your father. And getting back home. But that was a given.
You barely feel like yourself. You don't even look like you. This house isn't yours, nor are these clothes. The scent you spray onto your body isn't familiar, and even the shampoo on your nightstand is tacky and strange feeling.
All this time, you had never felt this lost. You may not be alone, but in this giant mansion, away from all your friends—you may as well be.
Your siblings were strange and unlikeable to you. You had barely even seen your father since you'd gotten here. Alfred was the only person you seemed to be able to even have a semblance of a normal conversation with. The knowledge is daunting, but not painful. You don't care.
It's all temporary, anyway.
... You hope. But knowing Reed, you'll be back before you can say, Hello, New York.
In a math class you've already done a year ago, you find yourself beginning to doze off with these thoughts plaguing the forefront of your mind. Cheek squished upwards in your hands, you aren't worried.
Your spidey sense is really handy; your head will tingle with that familiar static when the teacher's suspicions grow to large and you've already done your work, anyway.
But Harry doesn't seem to be doing so hot, you note when your eyes snap open and your pen finds a home in the dips of your fingers. As the teacher walks past your seat, you glance back at Harry's spot. Away from you, and on purpose, for sure. (At least, knowing you and your Harry—the amount of mischief whispered behind your hands was impalpable and certainly not appreciated by your teacher.)
He looks distressed by the worksheet in front of him, and small bits of laughter rumble from your chest. You feel gleeful, the best you'd felt from this crummy morning.
Those blue eyes meet yours and are practically screaming for help, to which you have to hide your smile behind a hand. The girl beside you shoots you a confused look, but nevertheless focuses on the math in front of her.
He mouths, Help me. It's a bit difficult the sound the rest out, but you think it's a mix of, This is impossible and I can't do this anymore.
Without much else of a clue on what you could possibly do to help him with that dictator of a math teacher around, you shrug your shoulders.
I'll help you out at lunch, you wordlessly mouth to him back, making a small heart with your index finger and thumb to go along with a sly wink. A teasing gesture, something you'd find yourself doing with your own best friend back home. Nothing more, nothing less.
His cheeks flush with a bright red before he chuckles to himself, lowering his head as if you couldn't still see that he was grinning stupidly to himself. Hand resting at the back of his slim neck and pen limp in his hand, not even pretending like he was actually doing something.
The reality dawns on you again and you turn away.
Once again, your stomach sinks. Not at him. Not at the prospect he thought you were flirting. Just at how, even for a second, you were unable to forget that this was not your home.
Once again, you feel lost in your own skin and nothing about you seems to sit just right.
... Even through your years of crime fighting, even through the hate and backlash from the public, even when a Skrull had stolen your face and you had looked yourself dead in the eye—not once have you felt as estranged as you have now.
"I hate teen drama." MJ moans dramatically, draping her arms on your shoulders and slumping, putting all her body weight onto you and you find yourself having to cling to her shoulders to keep her upright. If you didn't have that enhanced strength, you think you'd fall right down with her.
Harry slams his locker door shut and shoots her an amused look, "What happened now? That guy you were talking to ended up having a girlfriend after all?"
"Even worse." She tilts her head up to look at him from where it still lay against your shoulder, cheek smushing against the fabric of your shirt, "His ex is cuckoo. Like seriously,"
She spin her index finger around her head and then knocks against it with a closed fist. "There's something up with her. She hasn't stopped glaring at me since third period. I think she actually wants to kill me."
"That makes two of us," you speak, pushing her up so that it doesn't look like she's trying to fuse into you Steven Universe style.
She crosses her arms and frowns, red brows narrowing down at you, "I'm serious! What are you gonna do if I die? You can't take the comedic relief out of an already-established trio."
"You think you're the comedic relief?" Harry asks, genuinely surprised. MJ doesn't seem to take this too kindly—understandably.
You'd say you're pretty funny. Or your version of yourself, that is... this you. You aren't sure about the other you. Seemed pretty glum, but you digress. You'd be mad at the world if you were born here too, as harsh as that sounds.
Students pour out around you and you hear the bell chime around you. The day is over, as fast as it began. Too bad. You almost found yourself enjoying school.
Because at least that meant you didn't have to go back home, a place where you felt the least like yourself than anywhere.
"[name]?"
A hand waving itself in front of your face makes you blink back to reality, staring up at its owner. Harry looks concerned, an expression you think you've been seeing a lot of on his face and it's ridiculously defined cheekbones lately. "Are you okay? You spaced out again."
Again? Has this been happening lately? You hadn't even realised. Even your base instincts, your enhanced senses, hadn't even snapped you out of it.
"I'm okay. Sorry. Just uh..." You press your lips tightly together, gaze lowering. "Having some trouble at home."
You say, and you really don't want to elaborate.
"Is it with your brothers again?" MJ speaks softly, quietly, even though there's barely anybody left in the hallways after school hours. Your eyes widen a tad. You're sure you'd never told them anything, and you guessed this original you wasn't too keen on sharing their personal life either, so...
"How...?"
"They're not exactly subtle in sending you to the poor school then never bothering to pick you up in one of their fancy cars." MJ rolls her eyes. "You literally take the public bus home. Bruce Wayne's kid. It doesn't really take a genius to figure it out."
You chew down on your lip. They're right. It's not as subtle as you thought. A strong pair of arms wrap around you and your face heats up when your chin digs into Harry's woollen sweater.
"[name], we don't care. Their loss. You don't need them, you have us. Always, no matter what."
... Does he think you're upset about this? Embarrassed? Really, you aren't. But the gesture is sweet and you really do love your friends, so you don't hesitate to hug him right back.
"Thanks," you murmur, eyes not meeting his as MJ places a soft hand on your shoulder. Maybe you should be sad? It's a bit unnatural to appear so stoic when you talk about something like this, no? "But it's fine. It doesn't bother me anymore. You're right. I have you guys, and you two are more than enough."
"Since when did you get so good with words?" MJ slyly eyes you up and down, thoroughly amused. "You know, the old you would've just told us it's nothing and everything's okay. What happened?"
A smile forms across your lips. This time—a real one. "I guess I just had an epiphany. Not even my ego's more important to me than you guys."
My family.
You walk out through the gates laughing. A few other students still surround the building and even fewer walk out behind you and your friends—probably those bothered enough to take up after school tutoring programs and clubs and anything of the sort.
The ones that linger at the gate are frantically texting on their phones—probably spamming their parents to hurry and pick them up, because it was starting to get cold again. The clouds fog up the clear sky and blocks the sunlight from hitting the ground, so the world around you is dim as well. Not a good look for Gotham.
"We're so gonna get jumped." MJ blurts out, gripping the straps of her bag tightly. "Me and [name], I mean. You're totally safe, Harry. You and that driver of yours. Tell him I said hi, by the way."
"You're throwing shade now? I told you both you're welcome to drive with us if you want to."
You shake your head, no matter how much MJ's eyes brighten. "You live all the way on the other side of Gotham. We don't want to bother you. We all know how your dad gets when you slack on your homework."
Harry hums, "Yeah, but he likes you both, so it cancels out."
"Norman likes me?" MJ looks positively flabbergasted at this news, as if she hadn't even considered it before. "He always gives me the strangest smiles. I thought he secretly wanted me out of your life."
"Trust me, if he wanted you out, he wouldn't keep it a secret." Harry sighs, exasperated. "Actually, he respects you a bunch. He's seen you on TV a few times with your reporting work experience. Dad thinks you're the kind of reporter this city actually needs."
MJ places a hand over her heart, as if it were suddenly warmed by this strange act of kindness showed by The Normal Osborn.
A loud rev grabs all of your attention before you can even think of what to ask next. Whether Norman liked you, or even superheroes in general. Whether the Green Goblin was even a thing. So many questions, and such little time.
You turn to where the obnoxious bike noise came from, and your blood runs cold. All warning signals in your head go off and you can't help but instinctively ball up your fists.
Your (?) brother. Jason. He sits atop a stationary motorcycle, a strange smile atop his lips and a black helmet snug under his bicep. He's wearing a black biker outfit you'd never once ever imagine would exist in real life and MJ is literally gawking.
His eyes seem to have caught yours before you'd even noticed he were there. Now, when you're staring at him in such dumb looking shock—he gestures toward you, "C'mon. I'm takin' you home today."
"Wh... what...?" You splutter, fingers digging into the toughness of your palm. "Why? Nobody said anything about..."
Jason swings his leg over the seat of the motorcycle and adjusts his rear view mirror absent-mindedly, "Spur of the moment. I wanted to spend more time with you."
Harry and MJ, from beside you, coo quietly at you, teasingly. Despite your love for your friends, you really wished they could see the dread slowly seeping into your skin.
You feel like you're on your last leg when you conjure up the lamest excuse you could possibly come up with. "... I don't have a helmet. It's not safe."
"You're with me. You think I'll let anything happen while I'm here?" His words are sweet, like those of a regular elder brother. Normal sounding, to your friends who give you a small nudge to your side.
But you know better. You've seen him covered in sticky crimson blood and you've seen the shiny metal of the mask that covers his face.
You know that his words aren't as sweet as they are a promise. A promise you're entirely sure he is willing to uphold and keep at any means.
... But what can you say? Nothing that won't give away his identity, or even your entire family's. You're left in a corner, with nowhere to go but forward. Right into the lion's den.
Taking his hand feels more like a sort of demonic deal with the devil than it probably should've. Still, his gloved fingers wrap around your own, carefully and practised, with all the warmth of a human and all the delicacy of an older brother.
He slips his helmet on as you settle behind him on the seat, tentatively holding him so you don't go flying back. "Hold on tight. You're not gonna fall, trust me."
You know you won't, and even if you do, you'll be fine. Still, when he revvs up the engine and drives off into the cool Gotham air, you feel a strange hardness of your limbs start to build.
The wind bites at your cheeks as he revvs his bike up. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his waist, leather feeling rough under your fingertips. Despite the physical need to hang onto him so you don't go tumbling off the seat, you find yourself wanting to put as much physical distance between you and Jason as possible.
Your head is awkwardly bent back so it isn't squished against his back, and you have a feeling he's a bit miffed about this fact. That you're still so unwilling to be beside him. But that's just your guess. You'll never know what he's thinking with that helmet blocking out each expression and his head facing straight to the road.
Even with this concentration, he still decides to speak. "Didn't know you were still friends with that guy. Harvey?"
"Harry," you correct him, though you aren't sure why.
"Yeah. Harry. That rich kid who gave up the exhilarating life of Gotham Prep to go to school with you." Jason's tone is light, and he doesn't seem to be too serious with his words. He's trying to make conversation, and it's strange, because you can tell he isn't really sure on how to do it. "I always thought he was good for you. He hasn't got a stick up his ass like the rest of those snobs at Bruce's galas."
"At least you approve of him," you say quietly. Barely even hearing yourself over the sound of the wind hitting your ears.
"That's more than you can say for a lot of those other brats you used to hang out with, you know." He almost sounds amused, despite how dead your tone was. "Hated all of them. These two ain't bad."
You wonder what those so-called brats were like. Other rich children all couped up together for the sole fact they're all born from wealth? Jason not liking them didn't really discern much about them to you, because you got the impression Jason didn't like many people.
You had the impression Jason didn't like you. But looking at your situation now, you couldn't be furthur from the truth, it seemed.
Silence fills the space between you both for a bit. Driving down the busy highways into darkening skies, as the clouds start to grey and the sun waves its last goodbye. When there no longer lay any witness but the moon itself, watching over the crime-riddled streets of Gotham, where you, somehow, were taken away from without a second thought.
Red fills the sky. Red, like Jason's helmet—not currently being worn, but an image you could never really remove from your head when you'd look at him.
Red, like your suit. Red, like the blood flowing through your veins. It colours the ground above you and will eventually turn into an array of violet hues. That's how it all concludes, in the end.
Jason takes a turn off the busy street and it goes quiet. He slows down a bit to match the speed limit—which feels strangely out of character for him, but you digress. He takes this opportunity to finally have his voice be heard above the onomatopoeia of cars and angry honks of the drivers within them.
"... This is nice. Never picked you up from school like this, huh?" Despite not being able to see him from where you sit behind his back—you can practically feel his smile. "We should do this more. How do you even get home usually, anyway? Alfred never goes around these parts."
... You debate on telling him or not, but assume it doesn't matter whether you do or not in the end. If he wants he know, he'll just find out. No use in delaying the inevitable. "I take the public bus."
If he could stop in the middle of driving, he would. Even if he was driving, without a car behind him, you're sure he'd brake abruptly and send you flying off the bike. His hand twitches around the handle and panic is sent flaring through your nerves like electricity. "What? You actually go on that shit?"
You know he probably didn't mean for it to sound the way it did, but you're annoyed nonetheless. "Well, not like I had much of a choice. Would you rather me walk the way?"
His lack of a response tells you all you need to know. You aren't keen on continuing this conversation, so for now, it's just silence.
Slipping off the motorcycle, you shake the wind out of your hair and brush down your clothes. Jason barely even looks at you as he places his helmet on the table beside the front door and slips the keys into his jacket pocket.
"Thanks for driving me." Despite your... complicated feelings towards him and the rest of your family, you are a polite person. Your aunt had always raised you right like this. "But you don't have to worry about doing something like this again... I'm fine taking the bus."
You say, with all the subtlety of a man dying of thirst. Practically yelling for him to just leave you the fuck alone. At least putting it in a mildly kind way.
He hums, expression unreadable to you. Then, he smiles. A stark change in his features from when you'd first gotten a glimpse of that contempt face. When you'd first saw him. "Don't be so humble, okay? I'll take you home every day from now on. Even if there's crime, I'll finish it up quick and we can ride home together. Just you, and me. With your big brother. That's fine, right?"
... You didn't realise when he had started moving closer to you while speaking, but now he was standing right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder and a dangerous glint in his eye (that, yoy aren't sure even registers to him at all).
Your brain buzzes with static sirens. Warning. Yelling for you to run away, move, fight him, do anything except stand there frozen like a deer in headlights. Fingers twitching with the urge to punch, claw get away—but you don't.
You grip the sides of your shirt, knuckles feeling weak under the pressure. No longer can you force the words you want to say out of your mouth. "... You don't have to bother. I'm serious."
He smiles. "Alright. I have some errands to run. Wasn't supposed to be here today, anyway." Changing his biker helm out for his signature red one, he pats your shoulder a few times before walking past you. "Goodnight, [name]. Don't stay up too late, yeah? Study for that test you got."
You can't even begin to question how he knows you have a test coming up when you're sure you'd never told him, when the thought pops up in your head that no, he absolutely did not listen to you. And yes, he absolutely will continue to keep waiting outside your school for you to drive you home with uncomfortable conversation.
You almost fall over in the hall's entrance when Jason shuts the front door behind him. You shove your face into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and willing the memories of that drive into the back of your mind, where you wouldn't have to think about it.
But... he is right. You do have that test, and that simple fact is the reason why you pick yourself up, just as Spidey does, and decide to go to your room. Down the first living room, into the kitchen and dining room, and past—
"W—whoa!"
You're going to cry. You genuinely might start bawling. After that godawful moment, you've now crashed straight into a fucking brick wall. A moving one, at that. ... But it can't be just brick, because you think your nose is starting to bleed from the impact (if the warmth dripping down your chin is anything to go by), and you've slammed head first into concrete before with no reaction.
Just what the hell is—
"Shit!" A guy's voice curses. Unfamiliar, different from anything you'd heard here in this house before. When you crack open your eyelids, you see... Shaggy black hair, a very strange style of clothes, and the brightest blue of eyes you'd ever seen. "Shit, I'm so sorry! I should've looked where I was going—"
"Kon? What—"
Tim's face pops up from behind him just as you stand up on your own two feet, and the look on his face is something you can't even begin to describe. As soon as he gets an eyeful of you, and sees the trail of red seeping slowly from your nose down to your chin—where it drops down to the floorboards below—his entire demeanour shifts.
Subtly, but not subtle enough. At least, not to you. You don't think this Kon notices it.
"What happened here? What did you do to my sibling?"
Kon raises his hands in defence, eyes widening, "I'm so sorry, I didn't look where I was going, and—"
"Are you serious?!" Tim's brows furrow deeply and he almost growls like a damn dog as he sneers, "You hurt them, and all you can say is that you didn't look where you were going? Don't be stupid, Kon!"
"Look, I'm really sorry—it was an accident. Why are you getting so worked up—"
"You made their nose fucking bleed, dumbass! You know they’re not like the rest of us! I told you to be careful around them, and look what you've done!"
Before Tim can tweak out even worse, you speak up, in the most monotone voice you can manage. "I'm okay. Don't worry. I'll just go clean it up."
The two boys look to you in shock, seeing a tissue already shoved up your nose and your face clean of any bloodstains. Void of anything except the drip of red on your shirt.
"But... But—" Tim's tone wavers a little as he steps closer, "What if it's broken? I'll help you—"
You hold your hand out, stopping him in his tracks as it collides with his chest. Shaking your head, you clench your jaw to try and alleviate the throbbing pain. "It's not broken. It's just injured. I'm okay."
The boy with piercings—Kon—he presses his fingers into his palm from his face behind Tim, looking rather guilty. "Sorry, um... Kon. I didn't look where I was going, either. That's my bad."
That name sounds strange to say in your mouth, and Kon himself seems surprised to hear you say it. "No, no, it was my bad. I'm so sorry, [name]."
His expression and words were genuine, enough so that your head starts to clear from its panic and you feel a sense of calmness finally wash over you.
But, your fingers still twitch when Tim gives you a forlorn look of almost longing.
You don't say another word, rushing past them snd going to your room—where you could bury your face into your pillow and pretend like none of this existed. Where you could climb out the window, suit clinging to your frame, and become the you that you'd always loved most.
The one who was free, swinging through the skies and cutting the wind like it meant nothing to you. The you that only ever felt like the real one.
And even if just for a moment, you could believe that this was your only you.
Au where Simon is experiencing Trauma based psychosis and was admitted in the ward, found in someones yard, clutching a tree and screaming that he "Dosn't want to go".
His behavioral phycologist is Dr. Ava, but his truama therapist is (cane user genderfluid) Dr. Grace. Ft. Dr. Grace's therapy pup Laika and patiant human!Rocky (Ricky Ortiz) was admitted for rambles of not being human and everyone around him dying. He also keeps mentioning a person named Adrian, but when asked where Adrian is, he just points upwards. "They're not from here, I left, and now everyone is dead!" While curled into a ball. Head administrator Eva Stratt and nurse Carl included. Carl and Grace are lowkey enablers, but they want their patiants to feel cared for, not scared. Carl and Dr. Grace are also room mates with black cat named Suneater. (Sunny)
Simon having a panic attack, trying to merge himself with the wall in the common room, hyperventilating, gasping for air but visiblily not being able to keep it in his lungs.
"Ooh, Simon. This again?? I thought Dr. Ava prescribed you something for this.." Carl mutters, squatting down.
"Dont-! Don't fucking touch me! Are you real? This is a trick! Fuck you!- Im sorry! Dont.. dont put me back in! I-" Simon is actively clawing at the old outdated yellow wall paper. "I'll be good! Please-" he says, as if trying to crawl away from the nurse but was going nowhere.
Carl sighs, getting his walkie talkie. "Paging Dr. Ava. Event in the commons." He says, waiting for the womans response, but instead he got someone different.
"Hey Carl! Ava's out today. Simon or Rocky?"
Carl now stands, streatching as he steps back from Simon, giving him space. "Guess."
"Mmmh.. Simon?"
"Bingo."
"Orange or red?"
"No physical attempts of ourburst yet but I'm watching him." Carl states, watching as Simon now was crawling away, trying to hide himself under the coffee table. "Yo, Simon, you're okay. Deep breaths."
"Fuck you!- sorry.." He repeats, only fitting half way in the table.
Just as he's doing this, Ricky comes out of his room, inching like an anxious child. "Simon need help? Rocky help?" His hand comes to the door frame, tapping twice.
Carl smiles at him. "Oh hey, Ricky. Nah, Grace is coming. Thanks though."
The man rubs his arms, playing with his fingers as he thought. "..Not Rocky name.."
"Of course. I'm sorry, Rocky."
Just as he says this, the pitter patter of little feet comes down the hall, steps with the tap of a cane following. "Hello, Rocky. How are you, today?" He taps the cane twice on the tile.
Rocky gives a stary eyed grin, stepping forward to hug her. "Grace! Grace, grace, grace! Hi."
"Hi buddy!" Dr. Grace technically wasn't supposed to hug his patiants (Dr. Stratt has scolded him several times before), but he knew she was in a meeting right now, and sometimes trust was best for patiants whose main problem wasn't violence.
Simon.. on the other hand.. was a different story.
He fluctuated far too much. One day he was fine, the next he was swinging on anything that moved near him. One of the main things he and Grace spoke about was an entity of the name Ellie. Who allegedly stole his arm. Grace suspected his PTSD had made up some sort of story to cover what he saw during his time in the Navy.
According to records, Simon's sub oxygen had punctured, causing air loss to his brain. It was so bad that by the time they pulled him up, he had been unconscious for a good half a minute. So many of his memories were all gumbled that it was difficult to know what he was talking about most days. It annoyed Dr. Ava to death.
Laika, whos tail wagged seeing anyone, sniffed her nose at Simon under the table, play bowing at him with her tounge out.
At this point, The dog could handle it herself. And to think, she would be euthanized by now. Grace had picked her up off an ad from the local shelter. A "Last chance" kind of ad about dogs who would be put down due to not enough resources. Grace hadn't meant to get a dog during college, but he was now greatful for her.
Within minutes, she had Simon out from the table, petting her and taking deep breaths. She was licking his face, tail going in circles as she laid on Simon's chest. Rising and falling as he calmed.
After a quick chat with Rocky about his day, Grace excuses themself, getting closer. "Hey, Si. You doin' alright?" He asks, knowing the awnser.
Staring up at her, Simon, laying on his back, sees the ringed light above his head, shining into his eyes as he squints. Was he dead? Was that a fucking angel!?
Simon says nothing, jaw hanging open as he stares.
"Sorry that Ava wasn't able to come see you, but i'm here. In the meantime do you want to come to my office?" They ask, "I got a new star system for you."
Simon blinks, sitting up, letting the dog fall in his arms as he looks at Grace. "Are.. are you real?" He asks, the dog still slobbering on him, making him smile and hide his neck from her slimey tongue. He didn't like his neck touched..
"Yes, Simon. I am real. She is real. Carl is real. Rocky is real. What else can you see that is real? Hm? Anything purple?" She asks him.
Grace puts a hand out. Simon flinches.
"She can't hurt you anymore. You're safe. I promise." Dr. Grace whispers.
Simon, hesitantly took his hand, allowing help to be pulled up. Laika had gotten off his lap the second their hands touched, knowing she'd just fall off if she didn't.
"Come on. Lets go look at stars and talk about whats real. Were going to play around the world, okay?"
"O-okay.." Simon agrees, holding his hand as they walk back towards the office.
Around the world was pretty easy. Low maintenance that can open doors. First, Simon would talk, and then toss the earth hackie sack to Dr. Grace. After that, Grace would toss it back, asking a question again while looking at the projected stars on the ceiling.
Simon liked the stars. Sometimes Dr. Grace would ask which he could name inbetween questions to keep from overwhelming him.
"Oh, oh! Can Rocky come? Grace Rocky see stars?"
Just before Grace can open their mouth, Carl speaks up. "Come and talk with me for a bit, Rock. Im sure Dr. Grace will play with you once Simon gets calmed down."
"Carl Rocky play cards?"
"I was thinking I whoop you at connect 4 again?"
Grace, walking down the hall gives him a fond smile. "Thanks." He mouthed. Carl nods. God, Carl really was the best. He never forgot to take the trash out, and he was always great help at work. Always so kind to the patiants, even if one of them was convinced he wasn't a human.
