writeptember
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[BakuMali Hurt/Comfort Writeptember] by NekoRika
Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
02 Oct 2022
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"I'm not that sick..." It takes yet another coughing fit to contradict Marik, and shut him up.
Bakura rolls his eyes. "Yeah, right. You won't die if you wear a hoodie like every normal person."
[Writeptember - A collection of hurt/comfort ficlets and oneshots. Challenge organized by the Facebook group "Hurt/Comfort Italia"] -
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Bruce wasn't a man of faith. Or rather, he had been as a child. But he had seen too much and lost as much to believe in a God any longer, and he knew that what his brain was showing him at that moment was not by divine intervention. As he reached out his hand toward Damian, who was smiling at him through a tunnel of light, he knew it was due to the release of endorphins coursing through his system and the dimethyltryptamine in his cerebrospinal fluid. Or perhaps, much more simply, it was the low oxygen supply that was beginning to reach his brain as he lay on his back in that filthy, wet alley.
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Tired and wounded, disillusioned and bleeding, he had returned to the family mansion one evening with the overwhelming feeling that he had wasted a whole life, so he had slumped down in the armchair in his father's study before his statue and had begun to talk to it in delirium. It had been at that point that the large stained-glass window had exploded into a thousand pieces. He had opened his eyes wide, dismayed, to see two black-clad figures rolling on its floor; behind them, two men who had swung their katanas, aiming at those very cowering silhouettes. Bruce had acted so instinctively that he hadn't even realized he had moved: he had thrown himself toward them, striking one of them in the pit of the stomach with a kick; seeing him falter, he had focused on the other assailant and struck him in the septum of the nose with a left, kicking him away from himself and then tying them both up to make sure they did not try to return to the attack.
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Jon could read in Damian's big green eyes the sadness that hadn't left them for a moment since he had lost his leg, the realization that he could no longer be of help to his family had been devastating, and the thought of a prosthesis had made him panic, and it had been Mr. Pennyworth himself who had explained to Jon that it was not uncommon to experience a feeling of rejection concerning artificial limbs. Especially for someone like Damian. He had been raised to be perfect, a novice Alexander the Great who would rule the world, and as much as his life had changed when he began fighting alongside his father, that further change had disrupted his integrity.
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«What are you doing up there?»
Jon lifted his gaze from the wooden platform he was nailing to that tree to cast a glance below, meeting Damian's eyes who, with a sack of wheat under one arm and a bale under the other, stared at him, blinking in curiosity. He had a veil of sweat beading on his forehead and his shirt sleeves pulled up over his forearms, showing his dark skin and sparse hairs glistening under the sun, and the expression of someone who actually struggled to believe his own eyes.
Running an arm over his forehead to wipe it clean, Jon sketched a smile. «A tree house»Series
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In joy and sorrow (my home's in your arms) by MyPride
Fandoms: Super Sons (Comics), Batman (Comics)
14 Sep 2022
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Bruce had unsheathed his fangs and growled softly like a dog ready to jump at the throat at the slightest provocation, yet Jon, not at all intimidated, had not moved an inch. It didn't matter if he was a thousand-year-old vampire, if he had faced stronger opponents than himself, and if he had lived for centuries and centuries and traveled the sands of time... at that moment, in that place, and on that precise day, it was only a means for Jon to know where his best friend was.
«Don't challenge me, boy.»Series
- Part 3 of At dawn they sleep ~ Light slips away
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Killing loneliness (With the warmth of your arms) by MyPride
Fandoms: Super Sons (Comics), Batman (Comics)
20 Sep 2022
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Oh, naive, sweet, Jon. He had offered him his blood once and had gone down to the bowels of his prison to go and find him and give him comfort, still showing him his white neck from the pulsing vein. Damian had resisted, had tried not to, but the smell of the blood had been so intense that his body had acted on its own and he, in a hungry rush, had grabbed Jon's shoulders and sunk his teeth into his steel flesh and still they stood like that, wrapped in each other's arms as Damian sucked and swallowed, his head whirling with the smell of blood and desire.
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- Part 4 of At dawn they sleep ~ Light slips away
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No matter how much he had grown up, grown his hair and had now donned the robes of the Demon's Head, Jon had recognized those green eyes before he even realized who he had before him. It had been a touching reunion. In disbelief, Jon had stood up and grasped Damian's face with both hands, feeling those calloused fingers caress his back as if to assure himself that he was really there, really in front of him, whispering his name over and over again before Jon himself silenced him with a kiss; it had been a rough kiss, a clashing of teeth and lips and entwined tongues that had felt the need to savor each other and, locked in an embrace and with their foreheads pressed moon against each other, they had told each other all the things that had happened in those long years.
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This is the first time he see a human and he has always imagined them... different. His father and brothers have always told him to keep away from them, and from the stories he has always thought they were giant beasts on par with the Kraken he once saw rising from the depths, but what he has in front of him is far from what he has always heard about the human race. He's ... tiny, he looks frail, has cheeks splashed with strange red specks and long curved eyelashes, and with those things in place of fins and tail it is hard to tell, but perhaps it's even taller, and it makes Damian's nose twitch, and he lifts his tail to look at it and compare it with those long sticks of flesh that he pokes with his fingertips. They're soft, in some places as hard as the muscles in his arms, and perhaps these are those "legs" he has heard so much about and doesn't like at all. They don't seem fit to support a body, they're too thin, and you can see even through that stuff that guy is wearing, and maybe it's 'cause of them that that brat was drowning.
[ Prequel of Put your lips on me (and I can live underwater) ]
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- Part 3 of Put your lips on me
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Damian pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and hid his face underneath it, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stared blankly out at the football field he could see clearly from the roof of the school building.
Why was he blaming himself? He had done nothing; he had only tried to help a boy. He had reacted with excessive violence, but they had deserved it... right? -
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Jon had found Damian hugging his legs curled up to his chest and his chin resting on his knees, his gaze fixed and lost in the fields that stretched as far as the eye could see in front of him and the cloak of his uniform completely soaked and abandoned at his side; they had looked at each other for interminable moments without uttering a word, each lost in the other's eyes, and when Jon had asked him what he was doing there, Damian had merely huddled in his shoulders and lifted his face to the sky, displacing him in replying simply, «They are so bright here, aren't they?»
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With his forehead beaded with sweat and anxiety gripping his stomach, Jon had run into the fields to look for him, shouting his name loudly with growing concern; he had even crossed paths with some neighbors and asked them if they had seen their son, but the two men had sadly shaken their heads and mentioned that they had been on the tractor up to that point and thus had not noticed anything, leaving Jon in utter despondency. With miles and miles of fields to scour, and a six-and-a-half-year-old boy lost who knows where, Jon had automatically grabbed his phone and, knee-deep in ears of corn, had done the only sensible thing that had crossed his mind: call his brother.
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It was the first time he had been admitted to the crypt located below the manor, a separate wing away from even the batcave itself. As far as he knew, no human - or alien - had ever been allowed to visit that resting place, much less during the daylight hours when the family might have been most vulnerable; most of Damian's siblings managed to leave their coffins before nightfall and could live the semblance of a normal life, and sometimes even Damian managed just enough to be part of the Gothamite society to which his family had belonged for centuries
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- Part 5 of At dawn they sleep ~ Light slips away
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«Hey, Jonno? Are you okay?»
Jon groaned at the sound of Conner's voice, which seemed to pierce through his earcups like a thousand sharp blades; he then pressed his hands over his ears and twisted his nose, slumping down on the floor with his legs stretched out and his back against the toilet, noticing the still somewhat blurred figure of his older brother. He still couldn't quite make out the outlines, but at least now he didn't feel like he was talking to a ghost.
«No,» he admitted in rolling on the floor to rest his forehead on the icy tiles. «I feel like someone thrown into a centrifuge.»
«And you look like one, too.» -
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Although it was undercooked and mostly soft bread, he spread some cheese on it and ate in small bites, bites that struggled to go down his burning throat, but which Jon swallowed alternating with small sips of water as he chatted with his son from time to time. He had recently discovered the truth about them, still struggling to believe all the information he had had to assimilate and cope with from then on but, being the intelligent and curious boy he was, he hadn't stopped asking questions. And Jon could see it in his face even in that instant.
«How was?» Tommy asked in fact out of the blue, drawing Jon's attention back to the fact that he had finally moved on to the second toast.
«Was what?»
«Fly»Series
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«Are you going to spoil him?» Jon asked with a hint of irony at yet another toy Talia put on her account, receiving a rather skeptical look from the woman.
«Of course. He's my grandson,» she asserted as if outraged by even the question, but Jon rolled his eyes.
«Damian wouldn't approve, yanno?»
Talia looked at him with both eyebrows raised. «Damian grew up spoiled, served and revered. Everything he desired was owed to him. So no, Jonathan, I disagree with your belief that he wouldn't approve.»Series
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Just know you're not alone ('cause I'm gonna make this place your home) by MyPride
Fandoms: Super Sons (Comics)
13 Oct 2022
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In recent times, especially since they had moved to Hamilton, Damian had rediscovered the passion he once had for painting, and, also abetted by the scenery that the countryside could offer, he had found himself more often with a pencil in his hands and a sketch pad, but it was only recently that he had recovered his tempera and canvases and begun to paint the beauty of nature again instead of the way he had always seen himself since he had lost his leg.
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It has only been a week since Thomas - affectionately called Tommy by everyone, although Damian hates nicknames - became part of their lives, and Bruce has never seen his son so happy. None of them expected it, to be honest. It was literally a bolt out of the blue, but Bruce cannot deny that for Damian and Jon, the baby has been a real blessing.
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Damian could hear the roar of his own heart in his ears ringing like a jackhammer, drenched in sweat despite the cold that seemed to envelop the room, and he had an overwhelming feeling that something was wrong. He knew it was just his subconscious mind's fault, that the noises he was hearing were simply the sounds coming from the city not yet asleep and that the creaks were probably coming from the plumbing, but he had started breathing heavily again and sank his fingernails into his left thigh, just above the curve of the stump bandaged by the bandages.
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Lois had asked them a simple question: did they love Tommy? The answer had been quick, a firm "Yes" that they hadn't even had to think about, and Lois had smiled and patted their cheeks, affirming that everything would be all right and that, in any case, they wouldn't be alone. And Jon hadn't doubted his mother's words for a moment. There had been sleepless nights, times when Tommy had been colicky or feverish, days when even Damian had been sick and he had gone out of his way for both of them, but all the fatigue had always taken a back seat to every smile from their baby.
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- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 2,028
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 27
- Hits:
- 471