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echo-exco · 1 month ago

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❝OH DOCTOR, THAT’S TOO HONEST! THEN PRETEND YOU DON’T HEAR ME.❞

୨⎯ ┊BATFAM X NEGLECTED!HEALER!READER ꒱

✰ ৎ──────SYPNOPSIS: all you ever wanted was a purpose. something that would give meaning to your existence, your power. healing others was the only thing that ever made you feel alive, needed… until you ended up in that awful place.

✰ ৎ────── masterlist. | prev. | next.

Gotham was a charming city.

Not for its architecture, nor its people, never its people, but for what it represented: a machine of constant pain, unpredictable, volatile. A city where you could do something truly filthy and, if you did it with the right smile, you didn’t just walk away unscathed, you walked away applauded. Gotham was charming because it suffered.

And suffering was the only honest thing humanity had left.

Masashi leaned back in the chair of his suite, one leg crossed over the other as he observed the city through the window of the building where he had temporarily settled, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest. Sirens, screams, flashing lights, helicopters flying overhead.

"Like an infected wound." He thought, with something that resembled a smile.

Gotham was a city screaming for help in every language possible, but its so-called heroes didn’t know how to do anything but slap band-aids over a gaping throat.

What a waste of time.

What annoyed him were the parasites who wanted to cleanse it. Vigilantes, justice seekers, heroes. That obsession with fixing, restoring, healing. Such absurd arrogance. Gotham was beautiful precisely because it couldn’t be fixed. Trying only deepened its fractures.

The vigilantes were a plague. Not because of what they represented—morality, hope, the rigidity of what's “right”—but because of how useless they were to those who truly wanted to build something. Their existence forced Masashi to look over his shoulder more than he liked.

It wasn’t that he feared them.

They bored him.

They interfered with his research, his work. And to him, that translated into contempt.

They almost discovered him once. Just once. And that was enough to make important decisions.

That was how he sent you away.

Y/N.

His dear one. His.

The first time he saw you, he didn’t think you were special. Just another child. Small, quiet, with that broken, lost look in your eyes that made others uncomfortable. But not him.

Masashi was fascinated by it.

You were a broken child, empty, but useful. Obedient, starving for purpose. Masashi liked that about you. You didn’t ask questions, didn’t disobey, and you looked at him as if he held all the answers. For someone like Masashi, it was almost perfect.

Then he knew. The child he had been molding all this time wasn’t just any child, you were Bruce Wayne’s daughter.

Disgust hit instantly.

Not toward you. Never toward you.

His emotions turned to annoyance. Then anger. Then a dense silence that lasted for weeks. How could someone like him have a daughter without knowing it? A part of Masashi laughed. Another part seethed. Not because of the revelation itself, but because it meant he would have to send you away.

The very existence of Bruce Wayne made him sick. And now he had to send you —his little girl, his—to that man, to someone else.

That thing he had so carefully shaped.

You weren’t Bruce’s.

You belonged to Masashi. You were his.

Masashi had wanted to laugh. Maybe hit something. Maybe both.

But in the end, he only looked at you. At that little broken thing that clung to her threads and needles as if they were her only identity. So calm. So eager to serve. So hungry for purpose. And so absolutely his.

That was when he saw it clearly.

Masashi traced a finger along the rim of his porcelain teacup. Still warm—white tea with mint. Gotham didn’t know how to appreciate subtle flavors, but he did. Just like he appreciated you.

You left because he told you to. Because you trusted him. Because you still believed he wanted what was best for you.

And he did.

But what was best for you was to return to your place, by his side.

Masashi turned his wrist and opened a folder on the table. Matte-printed photographs, hacked reports, camera captures: you entered and exited the least-used wing of the mansion, avoiding contact. Slipping through like a ghost.

No one suspected. Not even your own father.

What a fascinating family. So powerful, yet so blind. So full of justice and so incapable of seeing the rot in their own actions.

Masashi gently touched one of the photos. You had just left a pharmacy with a bag in hand. Your face was partially covered by a scarf, but he recognized the stiffness in your shoulders. That restrained expression of someone hurting from the inside out.

You were desperate.

And he knew it perfectly. His poor, sweet Y/N, suffocating and hopeless from not being able to use your powers. Not being able to feel alive must be horrible, right?

Because no one but Masashi could understand you, no one else could interpret your powers. Especially not your family of heroes.

Sending you to Gotham was risky, yes, but brilliant. If Batman discovered something, he’d be distracted. If not, you’d collapse on your own. You’d be forgotten, left aside, just another child without skills or value.

And when that happened, when abandonment took root, when your need to stitch, to heal, to feel useful became unbearable—then you’d return. Crawling if you had to. Crying if it came to that.

Because again, the pieces fit together with beautiful precision.

He watched you for so long. At first, you were just a lost child, broken, desperate for purpose. But when your powers blossomed—when those grotesquely perfect healing techniques emerged, with pain, with blood, and with that childish sense of “helping”—Masashi understood something deeper: he could mold you. Give you purpose. Make you functional. Dependent.

And you… you obeyed him. Every order. Every correction. Even when it hurt. Even when you cried. Even when you laughed. You clung to him with a blind faith that almost resembled absolute devotion. Blind. Perfect.

He made you feel useful. And that was all you needed to stay.

Now you were in Gotham. Surrounded by people who didn’t understand you, who didn’t see your power, who didn’t know you had a purpose. Who would make you feel invisible. Useless. Forgotten. It was perfect. Eventually, you would need to use your ability. You’d crave it. It would consume you. Because your worth, your whole life, depended on it. And when you used it wrong, when you hurt others thinking you were helping, when your hands left scars instead of cures…

Then you could start to break.

Masashi allowed himself a calm smile. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if savoring it.

He still remembered when you used to scold him with your brows furrowed because he wasn’t “following protocol.” It was funny because you’d puff your cheeks like you were playing at being an adult. A little girl pretending to be serious. And still, so precise. So dedicated. So… his.

“It’s adorable.” He murmured to himself with mocking tenderness, intertwining his fingers with surgical care. “That thought of yours... believing you’re saving lives. Thinking that makes you good. Thinking you're in control.”

He found it endearing. Touching, even. And he couldn’t wait to see you crumble when you realized it was all a lie.

That you never had a choice.

That you weren’t even a complete person.

Just a weapon.

His weapon.

His, again.

Masashi smiled, almost fondly.

Gotham was charming, yes.

But even more charming was how it devoured its own.

And you, his sweet Y/N, were about to be devoured.

Masashi wanted this moment etched in your mind. He had sent you to Gotham so you would remember him.

And it was time to come for you.

Masashi knew he would go after you.

Not because you were ready.

But because you would think you were.

Because that was the perfect moment. When you believe you’re making a choice, when you think you’re choosing—that’s when the success of a mold is truly tested. Not when someone obeys out of fear. Not when someone obeys out of need.

But when they believe they obey by their own will.

And he had worked toward that all along. That was the goal. Not to break you with force, but to make you collapse from within and still look at him with devotion.

Like a dog rescued from a burning house running into the arms of the man who set it on fire.

Masashi could wait for you. He knew you’d come. Maybe with wounds. Maybe with tears. Maybe covered in blood.

But you’d come.

Because no one else would understand what you’d done. No one would know why it hurt so much not to help. No one would see your scars as acts of love.

Only him.

The thought made him smile.

Not because he needed you.

Masashi didn’t need anything from you. Not your affection. Not your voice. Not your gratitude. He already owned you. Every part of you. Every decision. Every thought.

But if you returned.

If you crossed that door on your own, no orders, no chains, no begging...

Then it would be real.

His masterpiece would be complete.

And you... you would think you had chosen him.

“Come for me, Y/N.” He whispered into the darkness of his study, eyes fixed on the monitor where your trembling silhouette exited a pharmacy, alone. “Do it yourself.”

“Make me real.”

Because if you chose him, if your voice called for him, if your hands touched him like it was right...

Then there’d be no denying the truth.

You weren’t his victim.

You were his.

Because nothing is sweeter to a master than a pet who returns by her own will.

The trip back felt longer than it really was.

Maybe it was the accumulated exhaustion. Or maybe it was the anticipation. Because Duke had been waiting weeks, if not months, for this moment. And not just to return home, to his room, to his city. This time was different. This time, he was coming back with a purpose he hadn’t anticipated.

The mission was only supposed to last a couple of weeks. A request for international aid, evacuation, containment, the usual. Just one of many favors extended to allied cities when they couldn’t handle an outbreak, a disaster, or a social crisis on their own. But bureaucratic delays, unstable weather, and an unexpected surge of meta-human activity in Eastern Europe turned his short assignment into a long, tense stretch, where every day felt like a forced extension of the last.

Still, even in the middle of the chaos—even when the radio failed, even when the reports mentioned missing civilians, even when he had to sleep in makeshift shelters beneath collapsed structures—he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you.

The news had come with the kind of simplicity that important things often have when said by someone who doesn’t understand their weight.

“We have a new sister. She lives with us now.”

It was a message from Dick, short and without context, as if he were announcing a grocery run. Duke read it three times before reacting. First he frowned. Then he blinked. After that, he simply froze, as if waiting for the phone to buzz again—this time with a joke, a clarification, an explanation. Nothing came.

He stared at the screen. His distorted reflection in the glass, marked by dark circles and raised eyebrows.

A new sister. Just like that.

And technically, it wasn’t like he didn’t already have sisters. Cassandra, Stephanie, even Barbara, if you counted the way everyone spoke of her with such casual closeness. But none of them had joined the family from scratch. None had been a younger sister in the truest sense. They had all come with their own traumas, their own broken pasts, their visible (or invisible) scars.

But you… you were different.

Young. Almost Damian’s age, they told him. You had no training. You weren’t a vigilante. You hadn’t been rescued from a criminal organization or a violent past, and you didn’t seem to be connected to the usual madness that followed the family. You were just… there. As if you'd been left on the doorstep and Bruce had simply said, “It’s fine. She stays.”

At first, that idea confused him. What kind of girl ends up living with Bruce Wayne? What were the adoption criteria now? Where was the tragic backstory? The loss? The dramatic turning point?

But then he thought it through. And he started to feel excited.

Because for the first time, maybe they had a sister who hadn’t been broken before arriving. Someone who wouldn’t look at them with the tired eyes of someone who had already lost everything. Someone who could learn to love them, not as fellow soldiers or fractured figures to fear or admire, but simply as brothers.

He promised himself he’d get it right with you. He’d introduce himself with a smile, maybe a gift. He’d apologize for not being there from the beginning, but do everything he could to catch up. He even began making a mental list of things he could bring you: books, candy, a stuffed animal if you were very young. Would you like music? Comics? Did you have a favorite character? Favorite colors?

During one of his transfers, he took out his phone and texted Tim. Just to be sure.

“Hey. What do you think our new sister might like? Her name was Y/N, right?”

The reply took a while. Long enough for unease to creep in.

Finally, Tim answered:

“Who? Y/N? I don’t know… I think anything’s fine.”

Duke blinked. Pressed his lips together. Texted again:

“What does she like to do? Colors? Books, movies, music, anything?”

The silence lasted even longer this time.

Until the response came:

“She doesn’t bother anyone. She’s quiet. Doesn’t cause problems. Give her anything, she’ll probably be fine.”

And that’s when Duke felt it, an unexpected sting.

Not jealousy. Not annoyance. Something deeper. Colder.

Concern.

Because that wasn’t a description. It wasn’t a thoughtful answer. It was what someone says when they don’t actually know. It was what people say about someone they’ve barely looked at.

And it didn’t make sense. If you’d been living in the manor for so long, how was it possible that no one knew anything concrete? No hobbies? No funny stories? No quirks? A weird phrase? Something?

He thought about how everyone talked about Damian. Or Cass. Even Jason. There was always something. There was always context. But with you, there was only a void.

And the more he thought about it, the more uncomfortable he became. Not because it was odd, but because it forced him to ask a question he didn’t want to ask: What if they’ve been ignoring her?

When he got to Gotham, instead of heading straight to the manor, he stopped by a quiet café, sat by the window, pulled out his phone and started searching.

News. Rumors. Photos. Blogs. Anything.

Bruce Wayne adopting a girl, that kind of news should’ve been everywhere. A media bomb. The usual circus. But this time… nothing. Almost nothing at all.

And what little he found was worse than scandal: it was passive-aggressive criticism, veiled mockery. Cruel comments. “The bland new addition.” “Some random girl.” “Looks more like the help than a daughter.” Some headlines were more offensive, others simply dismissive. But they all agreed on one thing: you didn’t stand out.

You were invisible.

And that hurt. Not for him. For you.

Because to be defamed, at least someone has to be watching. But to have nothing… that means you’re completely disposable in the world’s eyes.

He wanted to believe it wasn’t true. Maybe it was part of a plan to protect you. Maybe you’d asked for privacy. Maybe the media just hadn’t caught a clear photo. But then he remembered Tim’s messages, the dry way he answered, the lack of stories, the absence of detail, of warmth.

And suddenly, the idea didn’t feel so far-fetched.

What if it wasn’t the media ignoring you?

What if everyone was?

How quiet, how invisible did you have to be for even the nosiest family in Gotham to be unable to describe you in more than five empty words?

That’s when he made his decision.

It wasn’t just excitement. It wasn’t simple curiosity. It was something bigger. A necessity.

He was going to get to know you. For real. With time, with patience, with intention. Not just as someone who lived under the same roof—but as his little sister.

Because if no one else had bothered to really see you, then he would.

And nothing, not distance, not lost time, not the silence that surrounded you, was going to change that.

Sure, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But Duke would make sure to truly see you. It was his duty and responsibility as your big brother.

One he would gladly accept.

Bruce wasn’t a stranger to insomnia. Or to cold coffee, misprinted reports scattered across his desk, or endless searches that led to nothing but empty streets and blurred faces. He had lived his whole life with those things. But that night—and many before it—he realized something was different. This time, he wasn’t just chasing a ghost. He was turning his back on someone real.

His daughter.

His daughter. The word still lodged in his chest, too large and too fragile to hold. Not out of shame, or doubt, but because of what it meant.

He didn’t know how he was supposed to act around you. He didn’t know what to say to you. He didn’t know how to look at you without feeling like he owed you a debt he would never be able to repay. Because you were there, in the mansion, under his roof, among his family… and he didn’t have a single memory with you. Nothing. Just paperwork. A DNA test. A young face in a photograph taken without care. A medical history that felt more empty than complete.

He didn’t have stories from when you were a child. He didn’t know if you had a favorite stuffed animal. If you liked to sleep with the lights on. If you were ever afraid of storms. If you had been sick and no one noticed. If someone had taught you how to read. He didn’t know if you liked hot chocolate or preferred tea. If you woke up early. If you were scared of bats.

He didn’t know anything.

And that destroyed him more than he was willing to admit.

He could pretend he was busy. That the city needed him. That the looming threat that had begun to stir overseas—that faceless, nameless shadow—was more urgent. And, in part, it was.

There was something out there. Something that moved with precision, that knew how to cover its tracks, that manipulated medical, financial, even governmental networks with a level of control he hadn’t seen in years. Something that had been right under his nose, and now was starting to knock at Gotham’s door.

It had started as a rumor. A clandestine medical operation with impossible results. Then a series of disappearances disguised as voluntary transfers. Patients who never returned. People who reappeared healed, yes, but with vacant expressions and wounds sealed in ways that defied logic. Then, an unsigned file. A lead that went nowhere. Just a face distorted by the digital fog of an old camera. No name. No fingerprint. No record in any country. Just a few dead doctors who, in hushed voices, had spoken a single word: him.

And every time Bruce took a step forward, something pushed him two steps back. Databases locked. Footage disappeared. Witnesses recanted. Someone was cleaning up the trail in real time. Someone extremely intelligent. Extremely meticulous. Extremely dangerous.

And still… that wasn’t the real problem.

The real problem was that Bruce couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you had spent years close to someone like that.

Because while the data on that man was a black hole, yours was, too. Every attempt to reconstruct your life led to a wall: medical records redacted, schools that didn’t exist, false addresses. Everything had been carefully erased. The only constant was a name, scribbled on one of the first files: the mother.

That woman.

Bruce clenched his jaw. Closed the file.

He didn’t like holding grudges. He’d learned that anger made him careless. But deep down, he couldn’t help the sting that rose every time he thought of her. Not for keeping him out of the equation. Not for denying him the chance to raise you as his daughter from the start. But for the danger she had put you in.

If your mother had just said something. A letter. A message. A signal. Bruce would’ve moved heaven and earth to protect you both. He’d done more for less. But no. Instead, you, his daughter, had reached him like a distant echo, like a consequence no one had bothered to explain fully.

And now, you were here. In the same house. Sleeping under the same roof. Eating at the same table. Walking through the same halls.

And he knew nothing about you.

Not even your favorite color.

All he knew was that you were quiet. That you never asked for anything. That you locked yourself in your room and avoided everyone. That your siblings treated you with the empty politeness people offer to a well-mannered stranger. That you didn’t complain. That you didn’t make noise.

And somehow… that was the worst part.

Because Bruce recognized that kind of silence. He had seen it before. In children trained to obey without speaking. In victims who had learned to make themselves invisible to survive. In himself, when he was a child and Gotham had torn everything away from him and the only thing he could control was his own silence.

He didn’t want you to be like that.

He didn’t want you to feel like a shadow in your own home.

But he couldn’t go to you. Not now. Not while that thing, that man, that something, was still out there, lurking from the shadows. He couldn’t risk getting distracted. He couldn’t promise you time and then fail you. He couldn’t say I’m here when every part of his mind was caught in that case without a face, without a voice, without a trail.

So he watched from afar.

Sometimes he heard your steps on the ground floor. Or saw you passing by on the security monitors. Sometimes his reports showed up neatly organized on his desk, someone had brought them, and he’d find a note in simple handwriting: Thank you for letting me stay here. No signature. Just that. Short. Calm.

Too calm.

And every time Bruce read those words, he swore he’d fix it. That he just needed time. He just needed to find that man. That ghost. Take him down. Stop him.

And then—

Then he’d give you every minute. He would learn everything about you. Ask how you liked your breakfast. Teach you what it meant to be part of a family. To fight, if you wanted. To defend yourself. He would tell you about your mother, about the Waynes, about the mistakes he’d made. He would tell you that you didn’t have to be useful to stay. That you didn’t have to be quiet to be loved. That you are his daughter, and that’s enough.

Bruce leaned over the files. Closed the notebook filled with nameless leads. Took a deep breath. He wanted to be with you. Wanted to sit beside you and ask how your day had been. See if you liked storybooks. Take you to the park. Help with your homework. Ask if you had a favorite friend. If you were afraid of the dark. If you wanted a bat-shaped nightlight.

But he couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not while that man, that someone, was still loose. Not while he didn’t know who he was. Not while he couldn’t guarantee that his daughter was completely safe.

Because this time, it wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t Nightwing. It wasn’t a vigilante.

You were just a child.

And Bruce swore he would do whatever it took to make sure you could stay that way.

Even if he had to hunt a ghost first.

But first…

First, he had to find that man.

First, he had to get him out of the way.

And then, with everything clean, everything quiet, with the shadows gone, he could finally be a father.

Someone better.

Someone you deserved.

After all, Bruce still had time to get to know his daughter.

And he would make sure of it. Personally.

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 4 months ago

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hiii! can i request a bucky fanfic that takes place in civil war? specifically, the scene where zemo activated the winter solider and he starts attacking the avengers. and the soldier notices reader but for some reason spares her. maybe the reader is also an avenger, and has an established relationship with bucky? thank youuuu, have a good day! <33

Sparing You » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Female Reader with Steve Rogers/Captain America and the Avengers

Summary: Bucky spares you when he’s in Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst, language, established relationship, boyfriend!Bucky/girlfriend!reader, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @timmytimberdrake 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

As you watched the camera footage of the room Bucky is in with Zemo, you could tell that something wasn’t right about Zemo. You didn’t need to be in the same room as him to know that.

“Something doesn’t seem right with that Zemo guy.” You say.

Steve nods as he continues to watch the footage. You stood up from your seat and walked over to Steve, standing next to him to get a better look at the screen. As you guys continued watching it, the power went out, confusing everyone. You, Steve, and Sam exchanged looks before making your way to where Bucky is. Bucky wasn’t in the metal pod or anywhere in the room when you guys got in there. Zemo wasn’t on the floor. Steve grabbed him by his jacket and slammed him against the wall.

“What the hell did you do to him?” You asked Zemo.

“You’ll find out in a moment, Miss. Y/L/N.” Zemo says, smirking evilly.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

How the hell does he know your name?

That’s when Bucky came out of nowhere and started attacking Steve and Sam. He threw Sam against the pod and shoved Steve against the elevator doors hard enough to make him fall through them. Your eyes went wide. That was enough to tell you that Bucky is in Winter Soldier mode. Bucky turned around, accidentally bumping into you. You stumbled backwards, but didn’t fall. You stared up at him, waiting for him to attack you, but he didn’t. He just stared down at you for a few seconds before walking away. Now, you’re confused.

Why didn’t he attack you like he did to Steve and Sam just seconds ago?

You followed him through the building, making sure he didn’t notice you. You hid along the wall that led to a seating area with some tables. You poked your head out to see Bucky attacking the rest of the Avengers.

“Is Barnes in there?” Tony asks from behind you.

“Yes.” You replied.

Tony got his blaster ready and aimed it at Bucky, blasting him. Your eyes went wide when he did that. You watched Bucky approach Tony with a gun.

“Uh oh.” You mumbled to yourself.

You felt like you should do something. You ran out to the seating area before Bucky could shoot Tony. You managed to get the gun out of Bucky’s strong grip. You unloaded the bullets from it and threw it as far as you could. Bucky just stared at you. You gulped, thinking he was going to attack you this time, but he didn’t. He gently moved you to the side before attacking Tony.

“Why didn’t Barnes attack you?” T’Challa asks.

“I-I don’t know.” You replied.

You didn’t let Bucky out of your sight even when after he went after T’Challa. You followed him, keeping your distance. Following him led both of you to the roof of the building. You watched Bucky get on the helicopter and started it. Steve opened the door, entering the roof. You watched Steve run towards the helicopter and grabbed onto it so Bucky couldn’t fly away. He used all of his strength to pull it down. He wanted to stop his best friend before things got worse.

———

Steve managed to get Bucky to an abandoned factory. Bucky was unconscious at the moment. You stared at Bucky while biting your nails as you thought to yourself. You were curious to know why Bucky didn’t attack you when he was in Winter Soldier mode. That’s when it hit you. You and Bucky met during your trip to Romania last Summer. You and him hung out and got to know each other. You two made it official before leaving to go back home. You guys kept yours and his relationship a secret. You hate that you kept this from your friends, especially Steve.

“Y/N, are you ok? Did he hurt?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Hmm? Yea, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” You say.

Steve stared at you, studying your body language. He could tell that you were keeping something from him and he’s going to find out what it is.

“Cap, he’s waking up.” Sam says.

You, Steve, and Sam enter the area Bucky is in. Bucky groans as he wakes up. He furrows his eyebrows when he notices that his metal arm is wedged in some kind of machine.

“Steve…” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks.

“Your mom’s name is Sarah and you used to wear newspaper in your shoes.” Bucky says.

“Can’t read that in a museum.” Steve says.

“And now, we’re supposed to be cool?” Sam says.

“What did I do?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“Nothing.” You say softly.

Bucky turns his attention to you, smiling when he seen you. Steve looks from Bucky to you, sensing something between the two of you.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve asks you and Bucky.

You looked at Bucky. He nodded, letting you know it’s ok to tell Steve about yours and his relationship.

“Remember when I went on a trip to Europe last Summer?” You asked.

Steve and Sam nodded.

“Well, I went to Romania for the remainder of my trip and I met Bucky when I was there. Him and I hung out and got to know each other. We made our relationship official before I came home. Him and I kept it a secret.” You explained.

“How long have you two been together?” Steve asks.

“Almost a year.” You tell him.

“A year?! Why didn’t you tell me?!” Steve says.

“Don’t get mad at her. I’m the one who said to keep our relationship a secret.” Bucky says.

Steve sighs and puts his hands on his hips, trying to process the fact that you kept your relationship with Bucky a secret for almost a year.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam ask Bucky.

Bucky looks at Sam and nods.

“Why didn’t you attack Y/N when you were in Winter Soldier mode?” He asks curiously.

“I wanted to spare her. Even though all of the programming, I still somehow knew who she is.” Bucky says.

You smiled and walked over to Bucky, giving him a hug.

“I would’ve forgiven you even if you did attack me.” You say softly, gazing in his blue eyes.

Bucky stared in your eyes. He loves how loving you are. He also loves how you can see past his mistakes he made over the years. That’s his favorite things about you. Bucky’s right hand cups your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin. He kisses you softly and sweetly. As Steve looks at the two of you and watches the cute moment unfold in front of him, he then realizes that Bucky most likely asked you to keep yours and his relationship a secret to protect you so nothing bad happened to you.

“You guys kept your relationship a secret to protect her, didn’t you?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” Bucky answers softly.

“I didn’t mean to get mad at you guys. It would’ve been nice to know. Just don’t keep anymore secrets from us, ok?” Steve says.

You and Bucky nodded. Now, that you guys talked everything out and got it out of the way, you guys can move forward on the plan.

“I know a guy.” Sam says.

Steve nods, letting Sam know to call him.

“I’ll protect you.” You say softly to Bucky.

“You’re so sweet, doll.” Bucky smiles. “I love you.” He almost whispers, kissing your lips softly.

“I love you too, sweetie.” You whispered back.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

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poppitron360 · 1 year ago

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Underrated moment in TLH:

When Leo just fucking KNOWS how to fly a helicopter. He like puts a hand on it and can instantly recite the make and model, knows it’s top speed and altitude and how much fuel it has left. And then he fucking flies it. He’s 15, untrained, and unlicensed, and he’s flying a helicopter. Has anyone talked about how Hephaestus kids are seriously OP?

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alchemistc · 3 months ago

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my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

Tommy blinks awake and immediately wishes he hadn't. This is his third time waking up, and apparently they listened to him when he asked them to slow down his morphine drip because everything hurts.

The busted leg he remembers - they'd kept him awake long enough to explain that they'd do everything they could to keep it but... Well. No buts, in the end, just titanium and enough pins to make sure he'll never get through TSA quickly ever again. Thank fuck most of his flying he does on his own.

Christ, if he has to get recertified...

Fractured ribs, a punctured lung, three broken fingers but thank god his arms had survived relatively intact.

The bruising on his face screams before the rest of it does, which is just - it's silly, actually, that somewhere in his head he's thinking about how awful he must look. Of course he looks fucking awful, he survived a helicopter crash. Why would he look great? He should look as bad as he feels.

On a scale from 1 to Fuck Off he's very firmly toeing the line into Go Screw Yourself.

The knock startles him.

The startle wrenches something in his neck area, and Tommy groans through the pain. Shit. Screw his dad just that little bit more for providing the perfect genetics for a proclivity for addiction.

Evan.

He's standing at the door, looking apologetic, head ducked a little like he does when he either wants something, or thinks he's done something wrong. Puppy eyes, he'd heard Hen call it once, while she mimed barfing, because Tommy thought it was adorable.

He still thinks it's adorable.

Fuck.

"Hey," he says, in his Hospital Voice. (Tommy is new to this voice, but he's growing more used to it, now: third time awake and it's the third time Evan's been there. In a chair at his side, flirting with a nurse while he wrote on Tommy's chart, now perched in the doorframe looking... a bit grungy if Tommy's being honest. Like he hasn't slept in days. Like those are the same clothes Tommy first saw him in.

Evan dances in the door and it's the first time he's noticed that one of his arms is tucked behind his back. "If that's a bouquet you should know I'm allergic," Tommy says, and doesn't hate the way his voice sounds quite as much as he has in recent memory. He's almost managed to get back the ironic lilt.

Evan's smile widens. "You're lying, and besides, you can't be allergic to every flower. Are you allergic to the corpse flower?" He pauses. Narrows his eyes like he's heading Tommy off at the pass. "You can't say the smell is as bad as the allergies would be."

"I feel like a corpse flower," Tommy intones, and he wonders - is that - is this what - they're just not gonna talk about it? What he'd said, in the air, with half the public servants of the city listening in? Or the fact that Evan hasn't left this hospital in two days? Or whatever he's still hiding behind his back?

Evan steps into the room. Rolls his shoulders with a shit-eating grin. Brandishes the item he's been hiding - a stuffed chicken. There's something sticking to the end of one leg, and Tommy squints to try to make it out. Looks like -

"Bobby got it for you! He said you'd know what the knife was for."

Tommy groans, tips his chin against his pillow, groans again because the pain is radiating throughout his body. Evan steps closer.

"I really wish you'd at least let them give you the muscle relaxants," Evan murmurs, closer, so much closer. Hand on the bed, fingers lifted like he's thinking about squeezing Tommy's thigh, and god - god, he wants that. But they can't just - they're in this whole mess because they talk around shit instead of about it.

Evan sets the chicken on the table next to the bed. His smile is loose and light, but his eyes are worried.

"I'm still pissed they put me on a morphine drip that first day, Evan, it's in my chart not to -." Evan bridges the gap, distracting Tommy thoroughly - fingers soft and light, careful, sliding across his thigh and dangerously close to the crease of his groin. Even if he weren't in a hospital bed he's in way too much pain to even think of getting it up but it's compelling. It's distracting. Tommy never wants him to move his hand.

"Hey," he says, and Tommy blinks. Frowns. Drinks in the sight of Evan's plaintive head tilt and tries to breathe. He hasn't really been this lucid, before. "I have one more thing for you."

Tommy raises a brow. Clenches his jaw. Tries not to freak the fuck out when Evan reaches for the pocket of his likely rank flannel and pulls out a suspiciously small box. No. No, absolutely not, has he learned nothing from Tommy's multiple attempts to get him to slow down.

Evan pops the lid.

Tommy feels the hysterical laughter bubbling in his chest and tries to push it down because laughing right now would jostle so many fucking things and he can't -

"So. Um. I know we - I know we still need to - to sit down and, like. Talk. About things," Evan says, while Tommy stares at the metal-on-velvet. "A-and this isn't me asking for anything. I'm just..." He presses a fist to his eyes, rubs, fingers opening to rub at the scruff on his jaw. "So. I have a spare room. And you won't be able to manage stairs for a minute, and - and I have, like, so much PTO, Tommy, an insane amount of it, and I just thought. While you get your bearings..." Tommy watches him, still quiet. "It really sucked being on my own dealing with a bum leg. And - maybe - maybe we take some time to talk. Crack open that champagne once your doctor clears it."

Tommy stares. Tommy contemplates. Tommy sucks in a deep breath and swallows hard.

"You want me to sleep in the spare room?"

One of Evan's hands is still on his thigh. The other is still palming a house key. His grin is wry. "I would like nothing less, but I thought I'd offer."

Tommy's hand has been creeping steadily towards the one on his leg for a minute now. He makes the final effort, curls fingers around Evans wrist. "Please tell me your mattress is off the floor."

"There's even a top sheet."

Tommy feels his lip quirking. It had been an almost-argument, a generational gap they couldn't bridge, something so small and silly it hadn't seemed worth the time to fight about it when there were better things they could be doing with the bed. He wishes they'd fought about it. He hopes they have a thousand fights ahead of them.

Tommy releases the hand circling Evans wrist, palms the key. Evan beams.

"It's not exactly traditional, but, uh - you have the one watch you refuse to take off for anything, and I wasn't gonna make you like, a paper crane, so..."

"Traditi - Evan, what?"

His smile goes a little coy. "I know there's like, a break in there, or whatever, but - uh - happy anniversary."

Tommy wants to cry. He wants to grin until his lips hurt as much as the rest of him. He wants -

"Come down here and kiss me, you lunatic," Tommy says, and Evan grins as he obliges.

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #crash! that! helicopter!#(coda)

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bigheartbuck · 29 days ago

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For @911whatisyourpride week one: firsts bucktommy, first time calling each other boyfriends It feels different.

The 217 isn't as tight. They don't invite each other over for barbecues, they don't hang around the hospital waiting room for hours when one of them gets hurt and they don't always eat together. But when Donato dislocates her shoulder on a call, Bird wordlessly shoves it back in, and slaps an ice pack on it and hands her painkillers and water and keeps eying her for the rest of the shift. When Sal's family leaves after an extended visit he loads the fridge with lasagna his mom made and tells everyone to take home a piece. And when the new probie flies a helico for the first time on his own on a call, they don't make a big deal out of it but Tommy says "Somebody trained you well. Next call, you're flying again." And Buck knows how that feels, earning Tommy's trust. So he can relate to Ahmad's big eyes and the flush on his face. He's only 23 and Tommy's attention must feel like the biggest rush to him. Also, no one calls Ahmad probie.

There's less personal responsibility for each other but it feels freeing, too. Buck still has no idea what Bird's ex boyfriend's name is but he knows she's damn capable in the field. Bird is Irish, hair buzzed short, and she can bench more than Buck. He's allowed one, and exactly one, quip about her last name ("Flying like a bird, man") and then she shuts it down firmly. But she never calls him stupid or too much. None of them do. They laugh at his jokes. Tommy laughs, too. Eyes crinkling, face bright.

They haven't talked about It yet. It being Buck temporarily living at Tommy's place until he finds an apartment of his own. It being Buck shoving Tommy against various surfaces of the house and attaching his lips to his neck before sinking down to his knees to suck him off. Buck climbing into Tommy's lap, saying "Please," voice breathy and head ducked so he can peer at him through his eye lashes, knowing it drives Tommy crazy. Buck tucking himself behind Tommy in the kitchen, hand firmly planted between his shoulder blades as he slides in and out of his hole, achingly hard, fucking him with short, heated thrusts, Tommy cursing under his breath until they both shudder apart.

Donato brings it up once. They're restocking the helicopter and she asks when exactly Buck is gonna stop pretending he's gonna move out. "When are you gonna tell Bird?" Buck shoots back and Lucy grins. "Touché."

They don't talk about it again but Buck waggles his eyebrows at her when Bird asks them all to get drinks after a shift and her eyes suspiciously stick on Lucy. "You look like you need a beer, Donato," she says and Buck watches Lucy preen under her gaze. Is that what he looks like to others when Tommy talks to him? Wide eyed, mouth hanging half open, cheeks pink. Probably. Tommy touches the small of his back and Buck melts into him. Lucy waggles her eyebrows right back at him. Tell him, she mouths and Buck mouths Tell her.

"You wanna head home?" Tommy asks quietly against Buck's ear. He looks tired. Freshly showered, jeans on, and Buck's favorite Henley. Buck wants to bite his arm, where the fabric stretches and where he knows shapes are inked into his skin. "One drink?" he says instead because he also kind of doesn't want to miss Bird and Donato hopelessly flirting. Tommy grins. "Alright. You're buying." Which is a lie. Tommy always buys. For the sake of their bit Buck nods earnestly. "Yes, cap." Tommy raises an eyebrow and Buck's stomach swoops. But Tommy never initiates, never. Waits patiently for Buck to get so riled up he's going insane with it. Buck wants to claw at him, wants to tell him he can just take it if he wants, that he's up for grabs and that there's no one else.

Communication, Ravi had told him, sounding mildly bored and exasperated. You gotta talk.

Ravi is the only one he's been keeping in touch with regularly. There's still a tightness in his chest when he thinks of the 118. Misses Hen and Chimney, misses Eddie even. Stings that they don't reach out. Maddie keeps him updated on things of course. Chim sends a hi through her, every now and then. Eddie texted him still pouting? a few weeks ago and Buck hasn't replied yet. But Ravi's turning out to be a good friend, actually. He likes Tommy, which is a plus. He sends Buck dog reels on instagram and he's into true crime podcasts and he listens to Buck's rambling voice notes and replies accordingly.

So maybe Ravi is right about this, too. Well, he most definitely is. They need to talk. It was sort of their downfall last time. Buck chews on his bottom lip the entire uber ride to the bar. Tommy's pressed against his side. He'll bring it up when they get home later, Buck decides. He's gonna ask him, hey what are we? And he's not gonna feel weird about sounding needy. One drink, and then they go home. And then he's gonna talk to his maybe ex boyfriend maybe boyfriend like a whole ass adult.

His entire plan is derailed when he's at the bar, ready to grab a round of drinks for the entire gang.

"Buck?"

It's Eddie. Hair strand falling into his face. It looks just as annoying as Buck remembers. Eddie's beaming at him like they haven't been out of touch, like they're still best friends, like Buck hasn't transferred from the 118 to get away from the people he thought cared about him the most.

Buck musters a tight smile. "H-hey Eddie." He glances over to his table. Ahmad is shuffling cards while Sal and Bird argue over the rules of Hearts. Donato is sipping from Bird’s glass like it’s hers. Bird doesn’t seem to mind—she just leans closer and says something that makes Lucy bite her lip and look away.Tommy's not looking at him either, busy with his phone. Squints at the screen. Buck keeps telling him to wear his glasses or at least contacts but Tommy's adamant that he's fine. Eddie follows his gaze and nudges Buck in the side. "So when are you coming back, hm? Done spiralling soon?"

Buck flinches. "What?"

Eddie squeezes his shoulder. "I'm here with Marisol. If you wanna join us?"

Buck is genuinely surprised and momentarily forgets the sting in the pit of his stomach. "Marisol?"

"Yeah, uh - I apologized. Explained what I was going through, so..." Eddie's sentence trails off. He leans against the bar. Sometimes when he looks at Buck there's a look on his face that no one else gets. Like he knows something Buck doesn't. Like he pities him a little bit for not knowing. For being dumb and stupid. Buck chews on the inside of his cheek. "I'm not spiralling," he says after a few beats. "But I am glad you figured out how to apologize. Just not to me, apparently."

It comes out clipped. Bitchy. Good, Buck thinks as Eddie's face twists in surprise. "Buck-," he begins and then Buck feels a warm, big weight around his hip. Tommy. Thick arm. Hand on his waist. Buck doesn't even have to look at him to know what he looks like

"Everything good here?" Tommy's voice is deep. His no bullshit voice. Eddie glances between them, clearly baffled, and if it wasn't such a dire situation it would almost be comical.

Tommy's hand is pressed firmly against Buck, sending a pang of heat through him. It really shouldn't be a turn on, Buck thinks. Really shouldn't make his brain go brrr. But Tommy's solid and massive and Eddie is being a dick and Tommy's in Buck's corner and Tommy thinks Buck is funny and cool and competent and Tommy never, ever makes Buck feel small in a bad way. Only the good way that has heat curl into his bones like molten wax.

Buck leans into the touch. “Yeah. All good."

Tommy kisses the side of his face. Stubble catching on Buck's cheek. Buck's stomach swoops.

Then, because he's still buzzing with adrenaline and sick of second-guessing himself, because Tommy kissed his cheek in front of his ex-best friend and because he remembers Tommy's jealousy, his insecurity about Eddie and it's ridiculous and so he blurts out, "Eddie, you've met my boyfriend." Feels Tommy's grip against his hip tighten. It's not a lie. Not really. Buck feels a swell of pride in his chest. That is his boyfriend. In all the ways one can be a boyfriend, Tommy is his. He eats Buck's cooking. He suffers through every documentary Buck shows him. He sends him selfies from work. Serious bitch face, cleft, cheekbones and nose. God, he's attractive. Handsome. Jawline that makes Buck a little jealous. He's patient with him. Boyfriend.

"Oh, uh. That was fast," Eddie comments, surprised.

"Tell me about it." Tommy says dryly and for a split second Buck is worried he made the completely wrong call but Tommy looks at him soft and warm and fond. "See you back at the table then. Boyfriend." He huffs out a laugh, heads back to the others and Buck desperately needs to pull him into a bathroom and kiss him stupid. That's his boyfriend.

He glances over his shoulder. Tommy's sat down, keeps checking on him. Laughs at something Bird says. Looks at Buck again. Their eyes meet. Tommy winks.

Yep. Definitely boyfriend.

"So I guess you were serious about not coming back to us." Eddie looks half pissed, half-something Buck can't quite place. Maybe genuine hurt. He lets out a long breath. "Come on Buck. I was a dick, sure but--"

Buck pinches the bridge of his nose. "The thing is, this isn't about you, Eddie. O-or maybe it is, I don't know. I'm just --" He shakes his head. "At Harbor, they like me for me. And I'm not the dumb kid to them. I'm just Evan. And--"

"We like you for you," Eddie interjects. Insists. Buck shrugs. "Do you?"

Eddie blanches.

Somewhere, someone’s shouting over the noise about karaoke. The bustle has picked up a litte. "I'll text you." Eddie reaches out and squeezes Buck's arm. "I'll fix this."

And then he disappears into the back of the bar and Buck watches him sit down next to Marisol, thin-lipped, shaking his head. Angry, maybe.

At Buck's own table, Ahmad’s now miming something dramatic while Bird fake-swoons and Sal has his face in his hands. Tommy’s leaning back, arm resting lazily over the back of Buck's empty chair.

Their eyes meet again. Tommy quirks an eyebrow, that same amused, easy confidence that always makes Buck's knees feel weak. Tommy mouths okay? and Buck nods. He's more than okay.

In about five minutes he's gonna be at the table with their drinks and he's gonna pull Tommy into the bathroom and suck his dick and tell him that they're gonna be boyfriends for life now.

He's gonna shove his hands under Tommy's henley and squeeze at the meat of his waist, marvel at how real and solid he is. How steady.

"Boyfriends, huh" Tommy is going to pant, out of breath, having just come down Buck's throat. "Mhmh." Buck is going to rock up on his toes and press him into the tiles. "For life," he's going to reiterate. "And no running."

"Sounds like a threat." Tommy is going to quip but it comes out tender, hands cupping Buck's face. "Promise?"

They're gonna kiss for a very long time. "Promise." Buck is going to say.

Buck grabs the drinks.

Oh they're going to be insanely happy.

#anti eddie diaz #antie buddie #i guess #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #bucktommy headcanon #evan buckley #tommy kinard #911whatisyourpride #my writing

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invincibledc · 9 months ago

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BATFAMILY X TAILS!READER HEADCANNONS

Summary: A fox?! In Gotham, wait and the fox can talk…and it’s a child. What the—

An eight year old fox…in Gotham…that can speak and has two tails?! Tails!reader who moves around anxiously as people stare at him. The small child is trying to stay low, he really is! But when a scary bat demands who he is. The small fox can’t help but run away, running quickly before almost falling off a roof top. Batman tries to stop him, but tails!reader huff his chest and jump off the roof. Batman’s eyes widen, ready to jump for the child only to be shocked to see the fox mutant thing is flying by its two tails being used as helicopter fly away.

Thought Batman can’t help but just watch in amusement at how the fox child is helicoptering away. Batman grapple hooks tails!reader tails as an advantage, he finally captures the “mutant” with care. He can’t fully tell the fox is a child by the looks of it. It’s cartoony eyes and the way he looks around, yeah Bruce feels bad for scaring the poor child. “How old are you?” “Eight sir.” Yeah Bruce feels like an asshole.

Alfred who makes the fox mint candy, learning that the fox likes it. Bruce then stacks up with mint candies which makes tails!reader stay a littler longer before experimenting the kitsune child.

Bruce who treats tails!reader like he did with dick, soon the other batboys notice this and smile seeing Bruce liking the smart child. Though the child is like Tim but with more of a dick grayson’s personality of a shy and sweetheart.

Dick who gushes over the new addy to the family, he doesn’t care much that the new addition is a fox that is sorta humanoid. What he finds adorable about the eight year old is the determination he has to be his own hero. But dick still treats tails!reader like his age, always just telling stories, maybe bed time stories? Dick just loves how tails!reader helicoptering around with that focused stare. He probably got hit during a fight because he couldn’t help but coo at the eight year old.

Jason who would not admit he has a soft spot for the eight year old, he can tell that tails!reader is full of bright energy and pureness, making Jason act like big brother around the eight year old. He doesn’t care that the twin tailed kitsune can basically fight back by being smart and fly away with his twin tails. You wanna go on a mission that contains real villains? No. He’s forcing you to sleep with a bed time story and warm milk. Now go to bed bed.

Tim who’s happy to have another gadget smart kid around, even if you two have an age gap, he’s happy to know that you are smart like him. You two playing chess with each other, board games that contain street and book smarts, mostly book smarts. Tim loves hanging out with then new addition by talking and geeking out by things people call “nerdish or nerdy”

Damian at first when he heard his father caught a fox, he was immediately intrigued to go see the fox. But was shocked to see the fox was small, standing on two legs, eight years old, and had two tails like a kitsune. Plus it can talk and is very smart. Damian didn’t act no different and still pets tails!reader who looks confused but still smiles like an adorable cutie he is. His fox tails swaying and Damian immediately asks his father “are we adopting him?”

Tails!reader who still misses Sonic as he huddles up in the room he was given, hugging the blanket. Tails!reader doesn’t know how he is here, but he misses his friends.

Tails!reader who helps with gadgets in the bat cave, even Tim is impressed and wants to know about. “What’s your IQ?” Tim asks the eight year old who made a gadget in a span of 5 minutes. “[IQ level of tails].” Tails!reader says nonchalantly as he smiled. Tim almost dropped his mug before lifting the fox. “We got work to do.” Tim immediately shows a board of games that require high intelligence.

Tails!reader using his spin attack to knock over villains, though holds his head in pain before Jason picks up the small child as the other fights the villain.

Tails!reader trying to hold something heavy while helicoptering around the manor, he’s panting tired. But Jason shows up out of nowhere, taking the damn heavy thing and walks away. Tails!reader smile and follows the giant.

Tails!reader who is most protected by the batfamily, though they know this eight year child can handle himself. They still put a tracker on tails!reader, but reader isn’t dumb.

Tails!reader who is snuggled against Damian who is sleep as well. Reader’s tails wrapped around Damian like a blanket. Alfred can’t help but take a picture of the two young boys bonding.

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spicyspiders · 2 months ago

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turn me inside out

Mark Grayson x male reader smut

4.9k words

Quiet evenings were a thing of the past when dating a superhero.

Warning for bottom male reader, sex pollen, armpit kink, scent kink, sweat kink (kind of?), rimming, deepthroating, anal sex, and slight cum inflation.

What you thought would be a quiet afternoon quickly changed at the sound of a helicopter drawing closer and closer to where you were. It wasn’t the weirdest thing to see helicopters flying overhead given the world you lived in, but it wasn’t every day that one landed right in front of you.

You shield your face against the wind, struggling to try and peak through to see who is approaching. Your hands fell from your face as the blades slowed down, watching as the head of the GDA got out.

“Cecil Stedman of the GDA,” he said, flashing his badge, “you need to come with me.”

You knew who he was, but it wasn’t from the numerous articles about him on the internet, but from Mark. And from how Mark talked about him, he sounded like a no-nonsense type of guy.

“Am I in trouble?”

“We will be if you don’t come with us,” Cecil responded, and when you looked at him full of confusion, Cecil clarified, “it’s about Invincible.”

You tried your best to not show on your face how the mention of his name affected you, even if everything in your body was telling you to run to him. “What about him?” You asked, trying to keep up the facade.

Cecil pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “we know Invincible– Mark,” he said his name quietly, like he was afraid someone would overhear, “is your boyfriend. Now,” he said, the helicopter’s blades already whirling back to life, “get in.”

“Donald, fill him in,” Cecil said to the man in the seat across from yours.

“Yes, sir,” Donald said, waiting until you were settled into your seat before he spoke again, “Seven hours ago, Mark returned from an off-world mission. He came back with an unusual,” he glanced over at Cecil, “side effect.”

“What do you mean by side effect?” You asked, looking between the two men.

“We kept him overnight to conduct research, and what we’ve found is that we need your help to cure him.”

“How can I help?”

“You’ll see when you get there,” Cecil answered, “he’s been asking for you nonstop,” he said as he looked out the window, “he’ll be excited to see you.” Which didn’t sound ominous at all.

The helicopter ride turned into a private plane ride, making the journey to The Pentagon shorter. You weren’t sure if that was a good thing or bad with the lack of information Cecil and Donald gave you.

“What’s this?” You asked, looking at the bag in the seat next to yours.

“We didn’t have time to get clothes from your house, so we brought you some of ours,” Cecil answered.

Your head snapped up to look at them, “you were in my house?”

Cecil let out an annoyed sigh, “I just said-”

“We didn’t go to your house,” Donald answered calmly, trying to defuse the situation.

“How do you know where I live?” You asked as you opened the bag.

“We looked in your file,” Cecil answered like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“My file,” you parroted.

“You’re dating one of the strongest superheroes on Earth, of course we have a file on you,” Cecil replied.

The clothes in the bag were a few pairs of underwear, what looked like sleepwear, and in the side pocket was a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste. Looking through the bag did little to help your confusion. With what was in the bag, it looked like you were being kidnapped to have a sleepover at The Pentagon.

“What is this?” You asked, frustration more than evident in your voice with how cryptic they were being.

Cecil let out another sigh, “listen,” he started, “all of your questions will be answered when you see Mark,” he said, placing a comforting hand on your knee, “right now you should get some rest before we get there.”

“Okay,” you whispered. Maybe Cecil wasn’t as bad as Mark made him out to be, you thought to yourself as you forced yourself to sleep.

You didn’t know how much time passed before Donald was gently shaking you awake, but it felt like you were barely able to get any sleep.

You’re led down through a facility that by the fifth turn through the same looking hallway, has you confused about how Donald and Cecil can make their way through it without a map. It goes from hallways to elevators, Donald and Cecil taking turns on who has to swipe their identification card to get in.

“Almost there,” Donald says as he presses one of the buttons, flashing you a tense smile.

Your hand tightened around the bag’s handle as you tried to calm your nerves. Though the setup felt oddly similar to when you first spent the night at Mark’s place, just with fewer elevators and hallways, something in you felt wrong.

”Mark is just through that door,” Cecil finally said as you approached two doors. In the middle of them was a small table with a metal bin on top, “empty your pockets into that.”

Your hands shake as you place what belongings you have on you into the bin, Donald giving a small, “thank you,” before he takes the bin back down the hallway.

“Where are you-”

”He’s taking it to a safe environment,” Cecil answered, cutting you off.

“So you can plant spyware on me?”

”We already have that on you.”

”Of course you do,” you responded with a roll of your eyes.

Cecil mumbled something under his breath as he walked up to the other door beside the one he pointed out, the words sounding a lot like, “I can tell why Mark likes you,” but you weren’t quite sure.

“Before I can let you see Mark,” Cecil said as he turned the knob, “I need you to take a shower.”

”I’m not dirty,” you responded, unsure whether to be offended or embarrassed.

Cecil held up his hands in surrender, “we just want to control the environment as much as possible to keep you both safe.”

“The environment is my body,” you replied angrily, “Mark’s body,” you shook your head, “we aren’t a science experiment.”

“You technically are,” Cecil responded, before quickly adding, “I know how it sounds, but we’re still learning. What we have learned is a way to calm Mark down.”

“Me?” You asked, feeling slightly calm now that it seemed that Cecil was opening up.

“You,” he answered with a nod. “While he was off-planet, something affected him and his powers– heightened his senses. That soap in there,” he nods over to the bathroom, “will clean you in a way that Mark will smell you without all the extra scents you wear or pick up during the day.”

“It’ll help him? You asked, looking Cecil straight in the eye.

“It’ll help him,” he answered.

Your mind still reeled with questions, but you took what you could get. If you knew there was anything you could do to help Mark, you would do it.

It felt odd to wash your body that barely had any smell to it, but at least it had a lather. You watched the soap go down the drain as you tried to calm your mind, your hands moving across your body on autopilot.

Though it lacks a smell, the soap leaves you feeling clean, your fingers nearly pruned by the time you turn off the water. You pull the clothes on from the bag slowly, trying not to grimace at the thought of there not being any deodorant you could find in the bag. When Cecil said you needed to be clean, he meant everything.

At least the toothpaste with the toothbrush in the bag had a nice minty flavor to it. You wiped the steam from the mirror with your other hand, coming face-to-face with your nervous eyes. Before you pulled on the clothes you were given, you took a few deep breaths, trying to force yourself to relax.

You approached the door that connected the rooms slowly, your hand coming to rest on the cool knob. You let your forehead rest on the door, counting down in your brain as you get up the courage to open the door.

Between seven and six, you hoped Mark would just open the door himself and tell you that everything was okay now, but as the numbers kept going down, you had to face the fact that that wouldn’t be the case.

You repeated the number one over and over again in your head, and after what felt like the hundredth time, your hand turned the knob.

You open the door slowly, nervous about what you will find. It made you feel crazy because you knew it would be Mark, there wasn’t anything you needed to be nervous about. Or so you hoped.

Mark was pacing on the other side of the door, looking at any moment his feet would go straight through the floor. He looked… not quite like himself.

“Mark?” You whispered, the man jumping at the sound of your voice, “were you waiting long?” You asked when Mark turned to face you.

Out of all of the things your brain had come up with when you finally saw Mark, what you didn’t expect was for his face to crumble and for him to come racing over. He collapsed into your chest, letting all of his weight fall onto you.

You fell back into the door with a grunt, Mark’s arms wrapping around your body protectively. You spent what felt like hours against that door until you both calmed, your breaths synching.

It caught you off guard, your body going tense for a moment before you reflexively wrapped your arms around Mark. You ran your hands down Mark’s back, his body practically vibrating in your arms with untapped energy.

Mark nuzzled into your neck and let out a hum of contentment, the vibration rattling your chest when he let out a louder one when you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt the tip of his nose run across your neck, puffs of soft air hitting the skin.

“Are you,” you started, pausing when Mark angled your neck to give him more room, “sniffing me?” You asked.

“Smell so good,” Mark murmured, his lips dragging across your skin.

“I don’t smell like anything,” you said with a small laugh.

Mark pulled away from your neck, looking as if your words had offended him, “you smell like you,” he said, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Okay,” you responded as Mark sat there, waiting for you to respond, “I smell like me.”

Satisfied, Mark nodded before he closed the distance between your mouths, pulling you into a slow kiss. Though it lacked any heat, you were more than happy to let Mark have his fill, responding readily to it.

“What’s going on, Mark?” you asked, turning your head when Mark instead tried to initiate another kiss.

“Nothing,” Mark responded, a smile stretched across his lips when he moved his hips forward, his already hard cock nudging your hip, “just needed to see you.” You were surprised you missed that, especially given that the only thing Mark had on was a thin hospital gown.

“I can tell,” you responded humorously, gasping softly when Mark moved his hips forward again. “This isn’t usually where we meet, though,” you said as you looked around the room. It looked rather plain and empty with just a bed, a nightstand, and a small table with a single chair. It was much different from your room or Mark’s.

You had to admit though that with the level of surveillance that you were under here, it would feel similar to the few times you’ve been in Mark’s bed at his house. Or, so you assumed. On your way here, you passed by what felt like dozens of cameras, and those were just the ones you could identify. It wasn’t like Mark’s house had cameras, but there was always a level of risk there knowing that at any moment, Mark’s mom could walk in.

“Mark,” you whispered, “are there cameras in here?”

Mark grunted in reply, his head ducking back down into your neck to this time run his tongue across the skin. He moaned into the skin, his hands tightening on your body as he pulled you even closer.

“Mark!” You hissed, trying your hardest to stifle a moan as his tongue ran over your pulse point.

“No,” Mark answered, “yes– I don’t know,” he pulled away from your neck, his eyes flicked over your shoulder to the door before he looked over to the other one, “knowing Cecil, probably,” he added before swooping forward into another kiss, one you couldn’t dodge. “But right now I don’t care,” he said against your mouth, the look in his eye making you shiver.

Mark flew you the short distance to the bed, barely giving you time to hang on. You knew Mark wouldn’t let you fall, but it still managed to startle you, “Mark!” You yelled as he picked you up, before what felt like a second later, your back was on the bed, “warn a guy next time!”

“Sorry, baby,” Mark whined, “can’t help it,” he said, his hips driving down. He pulled away after one last thrust of his hips, tearing the thin hospital gown to shreds.

Mark’s hands moved under your shirt, mapping out the skin he had long grown familiar with. He licked his lips as more and more skin became exposed before he ducked down to get his mouth against it.

Mark swiped his tongue up your chest, groaning as he licked up the moisture he found. You weren’t able to tell if it was water you had missed from your shower, or if you had already started sweating.

It was a nice temperature in the room you were in, not too cold or hot, but it wouldn’t surprise you if you had already broken out in a sweat. Just being in Mark’s proximity tended to do that to you.

Mark’s skin ran hot against yours, his hands a hot weight on your skin as he held you down to the bed. His hands tightened along your hips when his tongue dipped into your belly button to swirl around the sensitive skin.

“Mark,” you gasped, not knowing whether you wanted to get away or stay in place as the ticklish feeling washed over you, “feels weird,” you said, trying to bite back the laugh you felt bubbling up.

“Sorry,” Mark breathed as he pulled away, his saliva already starting to cool. It left the trail of hair leading into your pants matted to your skin, Mark looking grossly satisfied at his work.

A flash of nervousness runs through your body as Mark tugs at your clothing, afraid he is going to rip them off like the poor hospital gown. It wouldn’t be the first time Mark has ripped your clothing to get you undressed.

You brought your hips off the bed to help him out, Mark flashing a grateful smile your way as he pulled them down your legs. When his hands moved to your bunched up shirt below your chin, he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

You pulled away from the kiss with a laugh, “it’ll be easier if you take this off,” you said.

Even though he nodded in agreement, Mark moved back in for another kiss, before finally pulling away when he tried for another and his lips came in contact with your shirt. Once it was finally out of the way, Mark tossed the shirt to join your pants.

You kissed lazily until you were at full hardness, making you feel for Mark. He must have been like this for hours. He moaned into your mouth as your hard cocks met, Mark’s leaking from the head messily as you rutted together.

Precum was normal, of course, but what had gotten onto Mark from that other planet must have caused him to act in this way. What had gone from normal, had been taken to extreme, one of the examples of that being the way his cock leaked like a faucet.

Mark pulled away with a groan, his breath mingling with yours as he took a moment to catch his breath, “can I try something?” He panted.

“Anything,” you responded, not caring as long as his cock stayed pressed to yours.

With one last lingering closed-mouth kiss, Mark slowly moved down your body. You whimpered when his hips moved from yours, Mark surging back up to press a kiss to your lips in apology. Once he had kissed the pout from your lips, Mark continued on.

Higher than you expected, Mark came to a halt, one of his hands going to your elbow to lift your arm. You held your breath as you looked down, watching and waiting.

You gasped when Mark moved forward, not at all expecting his tongue to come into contact with your armpit, “fuck, Mark. That’s so–” So what? Gross? Hot? You didn’t know what to call it. All you knew was that Mark seemed to enjoy it, if the sounds he made were any indication.

Mark’s other hand went to your other arm, lifting it towards the pillow in preparation for where he would go next.

On your thigh, you felt Mark’s cock twitch before you felt a drop of precum hit your skin, smearing into the hair. Was this why there was no deodorant in the bag for you on the plane? Did Cecil know that Mark was going to spend more time than you expected licking over the skin until he managed to get up all of your sweat?

“You okay?” You asked Mark when he moved to the other one and stayed in place like he was frozen.

Wordlessly, Mark nodded, nose buried within your armpit hair. You jumped as his breathing became heavier, the gushes of air ruffling the air. And like from earlier, you had to bite your lip to stifle a laugh you felt bubbling up as the stimulation ticked you.

Slowly, Mark moved away before coming face-to-face with you, his pupils blown wide. Gone was the crazed look from earlier, and instead Mark’s face looked blissed out and overcome with pleasure.

Just as slowly as he had moved away, he moved forward, giving you plenty of time to push his head away. It wasn’t like you were going to, even if his face had just been in your armpit. The salt on Mark’s tongue almost tasted the same as the salty taste on yours the last time you sucked him off, the thought making you groan as Mark’s tongue went deeper into your mouth.

“Wish you could taste how good you are,” Mark whispered, “how good you smell,” he said after another kiss, “how good you feel,” he said, bringing your hips back together again.

He made his way back down your body in sections, starting at your nipples. He swirled his tongue around one before biting it into a hardened point. You buried your hand in Mark’s hair when he moved to the other, the mix of pain and pleasure from his tongue and teeth sending waves of ecstasy through your body.

Next, Mark licked down your body, cleaning up the mess his cock leaked out onto skin that hadn’t already dried, paying no mind to his own bitter taste. He dragged his nose as he went further, going right through the thatch of hair at the base of your cock.

Mark groaned at the musky smell, the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Once he finally reached his destination and sucked your cock into his mouth, another followed suit, this time vibrating straight through your cock.

“Mark!” You moaned as the suction, right off the bat, was nearly too much. Your back arched off the bed, your body moving closer for more.

Mark whimpered at the sound of his name, pausing to take your cock deeper. His throat was wet and tight around your cock, the wet walls of his throat clenching as he fought against his gag reflex to take you deeper.

You grabbed for Mark’s face when tears sprung from his eyes, pulling him back up your body. “Easy, Mark,” you said as you wiped through the tracks, “don’t hurt yourself,” you murmured, wiping your thumbs across his face slowly.

Mark opened his eyes as he rested his face in the literal palm of your hand, his tears making his eyelashes clump together, “want you to cum in my mouth,” he said softly like the heat of the moment had caught up to him and he was afraid for you to hear.

“I will, I will,” you said, smiling down softly at him as he turned his face to press a kiss to your palm.

Mark stole a soft, salty kiss before he went back down. He took you as deep as he could, and what he couldn’t take he wrapped his fingers around. He set up a fast, wet rhythm as he bobbed his head on your cock, his fingers slick around the base.

Mark pulled off with a wet pop, his hand moving to the tip of your cock to give him ample room to work as he sucked one of your balls into his mouth. You groaned at the feel of not only his mouth, but at the feel of his hands as he slowly stroked you from tip to root.

Moved onto the second, Mark’s hand moved achingly slow as the tip of his tongue licked the sensitive skin. He pulled away with a slick pop as he pulled into lungfuls of air, watching as you fell apart under him.

“Don’t tease,” you pleaded.

“M’not teasing,” Mark replied, but he knew exactly what he was doing. Especially when he pulled his hand to his mouth and his tongue came out to lick up the bead of precum that had leaked onto his fingers.

Once your cock was back inside the hot cavern of his mouth, it didn’t take long for Mark to get his wish. Your orgasm raced through you, punching out moans from your throat as your stomach clenched around the pleasure you had felt building there.

And like the taste of your cum made Mark have his own orgasm, he moaned loudly around your cock as he drank down the cum that shot from the slit of your cock.

You yanked at Mark’s hair when you could feel overstimulation begin to creep in, trying to pull him off as he continued to suck you off for all that you were worth. Your hand fell free when Mark finally pulled off, your cock giving a small twitch of interest as you watched Mark lick his lips satisfyingly.

You opened your mouth when Mark flopped down beside you, his still hard cock rubbing against you, “what about–” you started to ask, only to be cut off when Mark kisses you.

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you breathe.

Mark lets out a hum of contempt as he runs his hands all over your body, “you are,” he sighs. You weren’t really sure how you being one orgasm down while he was still rock hard was satisfying, but you suppose you shouldn’t complain.

Legs tangled together, you kiss until you’re nearly hard again, aided by Mark’s fingers as they dig into the skin of your ass cheeks to bring your cocks together. He pulls away momentarily to open one of the drawers to the nightstand, bringing a bottle of lube back with him.

You turn onto your stomach in anticipation, waiting to hear the telltale sound of the cap opening. Seconds later, you instead feel soft kisses being pressed to your back.

“Not yet,” Mark whispers into your ear, making you shiver.

If he was going to make you wait, you might as well get comfortable. You curl your arms around one of the surprisingly soft pillows on the bed, waiting to feel what Mark is going to do next.

Mark kisses down the knobs of your spin, down down down until he reaches the small of your back. You’re practically shaking by the time Mark grabs both of your ass cheeks and spreads you open.

Your moan is muffled into the pillow as Mark licks slowly along your crack, his tongue only a faint whisper against your hole. It grows louder when Mark finally finds his, well… mark, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint dips inside.

Mark moans as he spears you open on his tongue, the sound going straight to your cock. His strong fingers dig into your skin, massaging the flesh below his hands. When you clench down his tongue, Mark’s fingers nearly tighten to the point of pain, but a sick part of you hopes– wants Mark to go past that and leave a trace of himself on your skin.

Mark pulls away, but just far enough to spit on your hole, one of his fingers coming in quickly to press it inside slowly. Lax from his tongue and your first orgasm, Mark makes swift work preparing you with one finger, and soon after, a second is joining the first.

On the first brush to your prostate, your back arches, your now fully hard cock coming into contact with the bedspread. You push your ass back as Mark scissors his fingers, groaning into the pillow at the slight burn.

Mark lays a kiss on each cheek as he moves his fingers in and out before he licks inside, between his two fingers.

You moan at the combined feel of Mark’s tongue and fingers, your cock throbbing when a third joins the second, knowing exactly what was about to come. As you adjust to his three fingers, your ears pick up on the sound of Mark’s lubed-up fist around his cock and his harsh pants behind you.

Mark pulls his fingers free slowly, your hole clenching around nothing momentarily before the wet head of his cock was replacing his fingers. His body hovers over yours, arms beside your shoulders as he thrusts inside in one steady movement.

You both groan when Mark bottoms out, his hips coming to rest against your ass. Marks lowers himself down, his body laid out over yours as he lays kisses across the back of your neck.

You crane your neck to the side, Mark already knowing exactly what you want as he presses his lips to yours. As his tongue presses past your teeth, Mark circles his hips, your hole clenching around his cock.

“Ready?” Mark asked, pulling away from the kiss to lick up the sweat on the back of your neck.

“Yes yes yes,” you chanted, pressing your ass back, even if all you came into contact with was Mark’s hips.

Mark pulls out slowly until just the head remains inside before thrusting right back inside. It only took just that one thrust for Mark to pick up his rhythm, fucking you into the bed on each thrust.

The smack of skin-on-skin rang loudly through the room, accompanied by the groan and creak of the bed below your combined weight. If there truly weren’t cameras in the room, it wouldn’t matter because if anyone even stepped down the hallway you were in, they’d be able to tell exactly what you were up to through the door.

Shamelessly, you pushed back into Mark’s thrusts, fighting off the ball of pleasure you could steadily feel grow larger and larger on each one.

Mark panted in your ear, moaning to the rhythm of his thrusts. He moved one of his hands below your body and between your legs to wrap his fingers loosely around your cock.

You moved your hand to cover Mark’s, instead of pulling his fingers down to wrap around the base. You tightened your hold around his fingers, hoping that Mark would get the gist that you were trying to last as long as you could.

When your hand fell away, so did Mark’s. Your mouth opens in protest, but as if Mark could read your mind, his lips were there on the back of your neck, kissing the skin softly in the form of an apology. His fingers moved down your cock and past your balls to press his fingers into your perineum, inner prostate stimulation meeting outer prostate stimulation.

You cum with a shout, stars exploding behind your eyes as they roll back in your head, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

After a few more stuttered-off thrusts, Mark cums. His cock goes in deep, and his cum goes in deeper, making a mess of your insides. Mark sobs through his orgasm, his arms wrapping tightly around your body to hold you close.

Mark rolls you over onto your side, his body curled protectively around yours. He ran his hand softly across your stomach, right on top of where his hard cock was still pumping you full.

“How do you feel?” You asked, your voice rough.

“Good,” Mark replied, tangling your legs together, “tired,” he murmured.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you said, clenching down on his cock.

You could hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, “could say the same for you,” he said, wrapping a hand around your hardening cock.

“Do you think it rubbed off?” You asked, reaching behind you to grab Mark’s ass when he rolled his hips forward.

“Let’s find out,” Mark answered, nipping at your neck.

#x male reader #x male reader smut #invincible x male reader #invincible x male reader smut #invincible x reader #mark grayson #mark grayson x male reader smut #mark grayson x male reader #mark grayson x reader #invincible imagine #mark grayson imagine

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thehoneybeestings · 3 months ago

Text

𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧��˚── Request: "Omg, I love your actor AU for Sevika x Reader! Can I request something? How about Sevika trying to figure out if reader actually likes women? And how would reader pick up on the signs that Sevika actually wants her? It's like some yearning for both of them"

Word Count: 1.4K Content/Warnings: sfw, loser!sevika lol, fem reader (referred to w fem pronouns), bartender!reader, yearning, pining, and the likes, sevika doesn't know what to do when she has an actual crush on someone A/N: thank you so much for this request, anon! this was so fun to write, i love clueless sev and i hope you enjoy it, too <3

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊୨ৎ‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika certainly isn’t known for being easy to read

୨ৎ When regarding others, she wears an expression of indifference at best, and scathing anger at worst

୨ৎ At this point, you’d take the scathing anger over whatever the fuck she regarded you with now

୨ৎ Disdain? Disgust? Confusion?

୨ৎ You can’t figure out what it is, and you’re completely lost on what it is you’ve done to deserve it; all you’re sure of is that Sevika cannot stand you

୨ৎ And to make matters worse, you’ve had a thing for her since your first day at The Last Drop

୨ৎ You just can’t seem to shake it

୨ৎ Not when she walks into the bar, her strong jaw set and her gait unyieldingly confident as she makes her way to the booth in the back corner that everyone knows belongs to her

୨ৎ Not when she’s dealing another round of cards after winning poker for the fifth time, her wicked chuckle rumbling low and smooth, her mechanical arm glinting in the neon lights as cards fly out of its sharp claws

୨ৎ Not even when you approach the table to take everyone’s orders and her eyes are on you like a hawk, brows knit together in… whatever the hell it was she was feeling toward you

୨ৎ She doesn’t like you- that much has been made adamantly clear- but why still she seems so interested in you, you had no idea

୨ৎ You try your best not to let it bother you, which gets increasingly hard when all of a sudden, she starts to hover

୨ৎ It’s like she’s going out of her way to piss herself off with your presence

୨ৎ Coming up to the bar to order her drinks instead of letting you come to her, and standing around for damn-near half an hour before she finally leaves

୨ৎ Hanging around past close, watching intently as you stack chairs and wipe tables whilst chatting with your coworkers

୨ৎ And Janna, not to mention the way she plays helicopter mom when you speak to Jinx

୨ৎ “Dude, your fake is so bad. I’m never taking it. Stop trying.”

୨ৎ “Nah. You’ll throw me a bone one day, toots.”

୨ৎ You snicker as you continue to wipe down the bar

୨ৎ “Ugh, I broke a nail,” you suddenly chime. “Eh, they were getting too long anyway.”

୨ৎ Sevika’s eyes shoot up, and you don’t notice, but Jinx sure does, because she knows Sevika has been trying to figure out if you’re gay for the past three months

୨ৎ It had been incredibly entertaining at first, watching Sevika scramble for any sign at all that you might swing her way

୨ৎ It’d been a long time since Sevika had a crush on someone like this, and frankly, it’s reduced her to a total loser

୨ৎ And now, the fun’s over, and Jinx is getting sick of her pining

୨ৎ “Quit being such a freak,” you hear her grovel

୨ৎ You lift your head up to hum in question, having missed the context of her comment

୨ৎ “Nothing,” Sevika quickly spits, and you walk away with your hands held up in surrender

୨ৎ “Let’s go,” she continues, looking to Jinx and cocking her head toward the stairs to Silco’s abode, “you’re not even supposed to be here.”

୨ৎ “Yeah, yeah; whatever,” the blue-haired girl mumbles before bidding you goodbye

୨ৎ You wave back with a soft smile, but your brows furrow in sudden confusion after you swear you hear her mutter:

୨ৎ “Just ask the damn bartender out already.”

୨ৎ You brush it off

୨ৎ There’s no way in Janna you heard that right; and if you did, it must have been some joke about how incredulous it would be for Sevika to do such a thing

୨ৎ But, ever since that night, any interaction between you and Jinx ends this way; abruptly and awkwardly as Sevika pulls her away

୨ৎ There was the time that Jinx asked you to remind her what book you were currently reading, and when you answered with the name of a well-known Sapphic novel, Jinx turned to chortle at Sevika, who then quickly informed her of an errand they needed to run before you could ask if there was something you were missing

୨ৎ Or the time that they ran into on your day off, and you couldn’t have looked more gay if you tried: rings adorning nearly every finger, combat boots on your feet, and a carabiner on your belt loop

୨ৎ “See,” Jinx laughs, “I told you-”

୨ৎ This time, Sevika physically pulls the smaller girl away, leaving you in the dust and entirely confused

୨ৎ At this point, you were starting to get a bit offended

୨ৎ Sevika reserves the right not to like you, for whatever reason, but it isn’t fair of her to police your friendship with Jinx

୨ৎ And one night, she’s lingering after close again, and you finally let her have it

୨ৎ It’d been a long shift, and the last thing you had the patience for was her brooding gaze pinned to you as you did your closing chores

୨ৎ “Can I help you?” You suddenly jeer, turning on your heel to face her and placing a hand on your hip.

୨ৎ You don’t miss the way her eyes widen in surprise for a split second before she schools her expression into her typical disinterest

୨ৎ “You weren’t here last night,” she deadpans

୨ৎ Your lip curls in irritation, head tilting to the side as if to ask her why the fuck she cares

୨ৎ “Yeah, I took the morning shift so I could go on a date at six,” you scoff, turning to wipe the table behind next to you. “Didn’t hit it off with her anyway, so I’d prefer that you don’t add insult to injury-”

୨ৎ “Oh, thank Janna.”

୨ৎ You whip your head around to see her eyes closed, her head tilted back, and her shoulders relaxed

୨ৎ She looked relieved

୨ৎ And now, you’re pissed

୨ৎ “Okay, are you some sort of sadist or something?” You suddenly snap. “I mean, seriously; I get that you don’t like me, but first, you try to get in the way of my friendship with Jinx, and now you’re happy to hear that my love life is in the shitter, so if you could please tell me what the fuck your problem is-”

୨ৎ “You’re into girls.”

୨ৎ Your eyes fly open in rage

୨ৎ “I’m into girls?! That’s why you don’t like me? Oh, so you’re really a piece of shit-”

୨ৎ “Wait! No! I-I…”

୨ৎ Her hands fly out, waving as frantically as her eyes as they dart across your features

୨ৎ In the months you’d known Sevika- in the months you’d been dealing with the stupid crush you had on the woman who absolutely despised you- you’d never seen her look like this

୨ৎ The poor woman is horrified and scrambling to explain herself

୨ৎ “I didn’t mean… that’s not what I meant. I just… I’ve been trying to figure out if you liked girls,” she finally sighs, hands dropping to her sides in defeat

୨ৎ Still, confusion is written all over your face

୨ৎ “Why?”

୨ৎ She shrugs

୨ৎ “T’ save myself the embarrassment of you being straight when I finally built up the courage to ask you out.”

୨ৎ Your jaw goes slack

୨ৎ And as you think about the past few months- her narrowed gaze not of confusion, but of appraisal, her quickness to pull Jinx away not out of reproval, but out of embarrassment- all you can do is laugh

୨ৎ “So you’ve had a thing for me this whole time, too?”

୨ৎ “Too?!”

୨ৎ You laugh even harder

୨ৎ “Why didn’t you just… ask?”

୨ৎ She scratches the back of her neck, looking up at you through her dark lashes

୨ৎ “I know, I know… just thought that might be awkward.”

୨ৎ “More awkward than looking at me like I’ve lost my mind when I ask you what you want to drink?”

୨ৎ She huffs out a chuckle, hand coming up to rub her face

୨ৎ And suddenly, you’re taking her face in your own hands to plant a kiss on her lips

୨ৎ She leans back in surprise for a fleeting moment, but it isn’t even a second later before her hands anchor to your hips and she melts into the feeling of your lips on her own

୨ৎ When you pull away, her lips quirk up into a smirk, and yours do the same as you purr,

୨ৎ “Does that answer your question?”

──˚₊ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ‧₊˚──

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #sevika fluff #sevika imagine #sevika headcanon #arcane imagine #arcane headcanon #arcane fluff #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #sevika #sevika arcane #arcane

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