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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 years

Note

For the ask game, migraine with Sky?

Ah, Sky, my baby. <3 I love him so much, I took some liberties, so I hope you don't mind.

Let's have some fun.

(Click here to read on AO3)

The night air was cool, though it felt much warmer and more humid to Sky now that they had spent a few days on Skyloft. The group had just departed his home through a portal, and Sky was eternally grateful that he’d had the opportunity to show them the sights and come to know that no monsters had attacked his home. Although it had taken his brothers a few days to physically adjust to the altitude difference, they’d managed to have a week of peace and relaxation before they had to leave once more. Sky still prayed in thanks for it.

Except now that they were wandering the dark woods in search of a place to camp, Sky felt strangely off. It made no sense, really – he’d just spent the last week relaxing and not doing anything strenuous; there was no reason for him to feel this way. His body felt tired, shaky, ill… he was coughing for no reason, his head was pounding, and his vision was blurred. Maybe he’d walked too much? He’d been taking it easy all week, and his body was downright pathetic in comparison to the others in his group, so he supposed it was possible.

Time mentioned something about trying to find a place with a better clearing rather than the brier they were forced to cut through in their current location. It made sense to Sky; they had a large group, they needed some more space. It would be nice if they could just clear this area for themselves rather than look for something naturally produced, though. Not that he wanted to cut any of the flora, he found it all very beautiful and fascinating, but goddess his head—

Sky lurched forward, stumbling on a root, and his world spun. He crashed into a tree, leaning heavily against it, blinking spots out of his vision. His head felt like it was being stabbed by Ghirahim’s daggers, his stomach felt like it was about to riot, and he couldn’t see.

He was hurting so much and he was so tired.

“Sky?”

The voice was loud, concerned. Sky cringed, mumbling, “’m ok… jus’ need a min…”

“Sky, what’s wrong?”

Sky hissed, sliding to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. Couldn’t they just be quiet and leave him alone for a minute? He could get this under control, but everything was too much. The stabbing sensation in his head only heightened as pressure built up, his eyes welling with tears and his sinuses running.

He felt hands touch him, and he shriveled into himself. He felt awful. He didn’t know what was wrong; Sky didn’t really get migraines, he didn’t suddenly get sick for no reason. Sure, he’d gotten very ill before, but not out of nowhere and not so quickly.

His head was screaming too much for him to piece anything together, but in the back of his mind some kind of nagging, urgent warning screamed.

Skyloft. Altitude sickness.

Surface sickness.

Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, no.

“I… I’m going to…” he tried to explain, tried to piece together words and grit through the pain to say that he needed less air, that his body had adapted to the Sky far more than any of theirs, that—

Sky blacked out.

XXX

A strange scent entered Twilight’s nostrils.

He wasn’t really sure how to place it. He’d never smelled anything like this before, but something about it was nagging and it made him nervous. He turned, barely able to pick it up, and decided he should track it to be certain it wasn’t anything bad.

Grabbing his crystal, he said quickly to Time, “I’ll be right back, I need to check something.”

He shifted before Time had a chance to answer, and the scent hit him like a moblin’s club. Following it, he moved to the back of the group where Legend and Hyrule were clustered around Sky, who was leaning against a tree. That’s when Twilight abruptly realized the scent was coming from Sky himself.

But never mind the scent, Sky didn’t look well at all.

Twilight immediately shifted back into his Hylian form, and just as he was about to speak, Sky collapsed. Legend let out a yell of surprise and Twilight and Hyrule both dove to catch their friend. The rest of the group noticed the commotion and rushed over, but the rancher barely registered it.

Sky didn’t just pass out, he was convulsing.

Twilight put a hand on his arm to steady him, worried words on his lips. Sky was so tense, his arm would stiffen and relax and his entire body followed suit. The teenager grimaced but no matter what any of the heroes said, he didn’t acknowledge them.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wind asked worriedly. “Sky, why won’t you talk to us?”

Warriors walked around to Sky’s other side and motioned for Twilight to follow. The rancher did so, reading the expression on the captain’s face as something akin to recognition. “You know what’s happening, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Warriors muttered, and everyone honed their attention in on him. Rather than explain, though, he said, “Help me get him on his side.”

Twilight did as instructed, though it was surprisingly difficult since Sky’s entire body was fighting the motion tooth and nail. It wasn’t even like he was trying to push them off or anything, but he was so rigid that it was like trying to roll a misshapen, heavy wooden plank. Just as they got Sky onto his right side, his entire body suddenly relaxed, and he let out a deep exhale and stilled.

And stopped breathing.

“Sky? Sky! Sky!” Legend yelled, shaking him as everyone became alarmed. “What the hell did you two just do, he’s—”

Sky’s chest rose and fell.

And everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“What the hell was that?!” Wild asked no one in particular.

Legend immediately glared at Warriors. “You said you know what’s going on?”

The captain watched Sky as he knelt behind his back, a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Seizure. One of my men back in the war got a bad head wound and started having them, so I’ve seen a few. Looked just like that.”

“A head wound?” Hyrule asked, immediately running his hands through Sky’s hair, feeling over his scalp for any sign of injury. “But he’s not hurt. Has anyone seen him get hurt recently?”

“When would he have gotten hurt, we’ve been on Skyloft this whole time!” Legend noted, throwing his hands in the air.

Four looked at Twilight, eyes distant in thought. “Do you think it has to do with the altitude?”

Everyone quieted, looking at the smithy.

Upon noticing their scrutiny, he shrugged. “We got sick from being up there, could it be possible he gets sick when he first comes down to the surface? I’ve felt a little ill all morning, and I know you guys haven’t felt the best either. Nothing compared to when we were up there, but maybe it’s opposite for Sky?”

Time hummed thoughtfully. “It would make sense. He is far more adapted to being on Skyloft, after all.”

“So what do we do?” Legend asked, cutting to the chase. “There are no sky islands here.”

“Well, if we’re going off that logic,” Four continued. “Then what he needs is to rest so his body has time to recover and adapt.”

“And clean him up,” Twilight noted softly, seeing the moist stain on his clothes. He looked at Warriors. “Is that normal?”

The captain nodded. “Yes. He’s going to be unconscious for a bit, and he’ll be disoriented when he wakes up. It’s best someone be with him the whole time so he doesn’t wake up alone.”

Time looked around, and the calm, commanding expression that settled on his face helped everyone focus. “Champion, you and Traveler scout ahead and find a place to camp. We’ll take Sky to the river to the east. Contact Sailor when you find something.”

Wild nodded, determination gleaming in his eyes, and rose to his feet from where he’d been kneeling by Sky. Hyrule, hand still on the knight’s head, also shot to his feet and followed the champion farther into the forest.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Warriors asked skeptically. “They’re going to get lost.”

“They’re the best survivalists we have,” Time answered. “They’ll find a safe place for Sky to rest. Rancher can find anyone, and they only need to contact Sailor through that slate of his. I’m not worried about it. Let’s get him to the river.”

Twilight reached to roll Sky into his arms when Legend swatted his hands away.

“Let me get his sailcloth off first, he’ll throw a fit if it gets filthy,” Legend fussed, working with the brooch that kept it around their brother’s neck.

“I’ll get a change of clothes for him!” Wind piped in, clearly finding ways to diffuse his nervous energy. He grabbed Sky’s adventure pouch and nearly dove into it with gusto.

“Will he stop breathing again?” Time asked Warriors, his face paling a little at the thought.

“He shouldn’t,” the captain answered.

“Should… should we wait to move him?” Four looked between Sky and the captain. “Will it hurt him?”

Warriors’ face, which had been stony with everything happening, softened and he smiled. “No, Smithy, it won’t hurt him.”

Legend finished removing the sailcloth, allowing Twilight to hold his brother in his arms. He carried him close to his chest, his entire body relaxing at the proximity and at the thought that he could do something to assist. He’d felt entirely too helpless and overwhelmed watching that seizure. Time practically fished Wind out of Sky’s adventure pouch as the boy was only visible from waist to toes, his entire torso digging through the interior. When the sailor was plucked out, he had a change of clothes at the ready and a disgruntled look set upon his face.

“I was looking to see if he had extra blankets!” he protested.

Twilight chuckled and Warriors ruffled the boy’s hair. The group set out for the river.

The cool water did nothing to awaken the Skyloftian knight, making Twilight’s stomach churn with worry. When he looked at Warriors, though, the captain didn’t seem overly concerned. Unable to assist with the bathing, Wind preoccupied himself by getting into a splashing competition with Four, leading Time to take Wind’s pirate’s charm so he could listen out for Wild and keep watch. Both young teenagers were as soaked as Sky by the time Twilight, Legend, and Warriors were finished cleaning him up.

Sky was halfway redressed when his eyes started to flutter open.

“Sky?” Legend placed a hand on his bare shoulder as he shivered. Saying his name caught the entire group’s attention, and everyone hastened over. “Sky, how are you feeling?”

Sky’s breathing quickened and he grew anxious, trying to wiggle out of Twilight’s hold from behind him as the rancher was propping him up. Twilight took Sky’s arms and tucked them to his chest, giving a hug from behind. “It’s okay, Sky, it’s just us. You’re okay.”

“Link.” Warriors knelt in front of him, brushing wet curls out of his face. “You’re safe. You had a seizure. We’re taking care of you, you’re okay.”

Sky settled a little at the words, though from Twilight’s vantage point the teenager still looked confused and scared. His eyelids drooped and he nodded off shortly thereafter.

Time glanced at Warriors for guidance. The captain sighed, leaning back. “Yeah, he’s going to be like that for a while.”

Wind put his hands on his hips. “He’s cold, come on, get his shirt on him!”

Time glanced at Wind, caught off guard at the boy’s commanding tone, and then smiled.

As the group finished getting Sky dressed, Legend shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t think he’s had seizures before and then just not told us, do you?”

Twilight shook his head. “No. No, he hasn’t. Something in the air changed, he smelled different right before it happened. I’ve never smelled that before.”

“You could smell a seizure?” Warriors asked, eyebrow raised.

Twilight shrugged. “I mean I guess that’s what it was. All I know was it was different, and it was coming off him.”

Before anyone could comment, Wind’s pirate charm glowed, and Wild and Hyrule were excitedly telling them they found a place. Before either could even take a breath they were immediately asking about Sky’s condition, and Time quickly interrupted their interrogation.

“He’s doing okay,” he explained. “Just resting. Now where is this place?”

“Oh, it’s just south of the funny shaped boulder—”

“No, no, it’s southeast of the funny shaped boulder, but it’s south of the owl family with those cute little owlets—”

“Yeah, and there’s a tree that’s bent funny that looks like a portal but isn’t and that’s just like twenty paces away from the site—”

Twilight was grabbing his shadow crystal before Time even threw an exasperated look in his direction.

XXX

When he came to, he was… beyond disoriented. And confused. Because why did his head hurt? Why was he on something soft? Where was he? What happened? Why did his whole body feel like it had been stepped on by Koloktos, run over by Scaldera, and punched by Demise? Why did he feel so completely and utterly drained? Why was he on his belly? What was rubbing his back?

Sky groaned, trying to open his eyes, but he was so tired.

Something warm and gentle massaged his neck, and he involuntarily sighed as the tension was released. A gentle voice rumbled, “You’re okay, Sky. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

A little less anxious, Sky still tried to open his eyes. The voice sounded familiar. When he finally started to gather the strength to lift his eyelids, he flinched as something soft tickled his right eye. He kept it closed, opening his left, and he realized he was lying prone with his head turned to the left. The soft material tickling his face was a fur pelt.

Fur. Fur?

“Rancher…?” he mumbled.

He heard shifting on the ground, and then he saw a pair of knees before Twilight dipped down to be at eye level with him. He watched Sky silently, eyes warm and concerned, and then smiled. “Hey, Sky. Welcome back.”

Welcome back? “Where’d I go?”

Twilight chuckled, laying a gentle hand on his back. “Somewhere we couldn’t reach you for a while. You scared us. Smithy worked out that you probably got used to being up in the sky. We all did, in a sense; the Old Man even admitted to feeling kind of woozy when we got to the woods. But you just like to outshine all of us when it comes to the sky, don’t you?”

Sky smiled absentmindedly at Twilight’s low, gentle laughter, not quite catching everything.

Twilight’s hand went back to his neck, massaging it a little more. “Go back to sleep, Sky.”

Safe in his brother’s care, Sky settled, letting himself go.

#I might have escalated that migraine prompt a bit #now for seizure care tips and info!#if someone is having a seizure your job is to make sure they don't hurt themselves accidentally and time the seizure #so get them on the ground and lay them on their side #never put anything in their mouth or try to hold them down #just let them shake it out #being incontinent is normal #all their muscles just had a spastic frenzy so now they all just relax #they may stop breathing briefly or have low O2 levels right after they finish #not good but not unusual in seizures #please do rescue breaths if they stop breathing and have a pulse do not shake them like Legend #after a seizure they will be sleepy and confused it's normal they're what we call postictal #their brain just went through ctlr + alt + delete it just needs a bit to recover #other nerdy info!#dogs can smell seizures and some epileptics have service dogs for that #you can have too much O2 in your system it's called hyperoxemia but it's more of a critically ill hospitalized person thing #so unlikely Sky would get it but Sky is also an elf boy who lives in fantasy sky islands so I do what I want #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu sky #sicktember #ask game #writing prompt #you ask skye answers #lovely guardedchild #writing

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ofyorkshire · 6 months

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...oh my stars

i don't know if it was intentional, but repetitively referring to bj as "ziggy stardust" in the red riding novels completely foreshadowed bj's death.

#something something the parallels between bj and ziggy both being referenced as imperfect messiahs #and wanting to bring hope to a hellish world (bj consistently sticking his neck out to help uncover yorkshire's corruption)#but ultimately being dragged into the same hate he wanted to stop and destroying himself / being destroyed by the very people who sent him #ie - bj being threatened to send a message by the police and eventually being killed by the police (albeit *sort of* on his own terms)#also maybe something to be said about bowie retiring ziggy partially bc he got too wrapped up in the persona and questioning his sanity #sort of paralleling bj losing his mind (ironically) in the psych ward and heading off to get his revenge on laws (and ultimately jobson).#but that's probably looking way too deep into it.#this meta has almost 0 meaning in the film universe (which is closer to my canon anyway) but. ow. i have emotions.#talking about rr makes me sound insane i'm aware skdflskf but i swear it makes sense.#if there was a fandom for this series i would be popping off.#(again not encouragement to read the novels. watch the films sure. don't read he novels.)#(not unless you're just that obsessed with understanding what the heck was going on in the films like me. they're deeply disturbing.)#(but i did read them bc i DID want to know and now you guys have to live with my crazy ramblings about bj.)#(which may or may not be accurate bc peace leans *a lot* on experiences in '70s-'80s yorkshire which he was alive for. i obv was not lmao)#out of fairy tales [ooc];

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sscarletvenus · 6 months

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i do not pity israel. never have, and never will.

each night that gaza experiences is deadlier than the last, as idf soldiers record propaganda tiktoks, make rave parties and grwms and fit checks, gloat over having food and water, and film themselves deriving sadistic pleasure from torturing their hostages and victims and desecrating the dead.

Palestinians have to display their martyred before the camera for you to believe the atrocities that the zionist entity has subjected them to. they cannot even mourn in private. the apartheid entity murders them in cold blood, and you deliver the killing blow by doubting them.

babies whose families have been killed will never get to know their own name.

i can't reshare a tenth of the videos and photos that cross my timeline. i have seen more dead children in the past month than i have known death my entire life.

israeli settlers burn olive trees, bomb bakeries and fishing boats, shower white phosphorus and earthquake bombs on the captive civilians of gaza. you already know about the disastrous effects of white phosphorus, but earthquake bombs were last used during ww2 to wipe out entire cities.

how holy is the land that seeks to be built over the mass graves of thousands of children? is it holier than the miracle of a child being born in this hypocritical world?

all 11 universities in gaza have been bombed. academics should be agitating right now, especially those who call themselves "decolonial thinkers." destruction of universities is a sinisterly deliberate act to sabotage the Palestinians who will survive this great catastrophe.

the act of cleansing your hands before prayer is extremely important to muslims. no part of us can remotely comprehend the grief of the mother who refused to wash her hands from the blood of her children after losing them in a zionist airstrike over gaza. "I swear I won't wash them, I won't wash my hands, how else am I supposed to sleep near my kids."

it is only both moral and right when one side defends itself. the other side are the price of war, no better than insects and cattle and sheep left to die within the four walls of the slaughterhouse.

this situation should not be up for debate, but let me finish with one final thing : do your research about Palestine. HOWEVER. you do not need a degree in middle east studies to object to an ongoing genocide. if someone outwits you in a debate about historical details and every nuance of a subject, you were and will remain entirely correct in objecting to a genocide.

may those martyred rest in peace and be reunited again with their loved ones in heaven's eternal vastness.

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE.

glory to Palestinian resistance. from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

#free palestine #palestine #gaza #free gaza #gaza under attack #gaza genocide #genocide #decolonisation #gaza strip #from the river to the sea palestine will be free

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mejomonster · 2 months

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I feel distinctly like the universe is planning to shove me in a Particular direction. I dunno what exactly yet but i feel it looming

#rant #i dont believe in fate Or destiny (tho i love hearing other ppls opinions and why)#but occassionally. my life will really have a string of incidents SHOVING at me very insistently to go a certain direction #like when i got sick 3 years ago with gastroparesis and POTS. no matter how much u fight an illness...#it WILL make you stop overworking. or else u will die. thats it. 2 options. only 1 option you survive through #so i was forced to TAKE CARE OF MYSELF and rest more and force myself to overwork less #when i worked 60 hours my galbladder stopped working. to force me to stop overworking #when i was in engineering college full time w 30 hour a week job my brain gave me 5+ daily panic attacks so i #basically had to QUIT overworking in some way if i wanted any decent quality of life that could get the panic attacks to stop.#the universe totalled my fucking car twice in 2023 so inevitably i DID have to lose all my savings #no other choice. i needed a car for work and to go to doctors for chronic illness. i had to buy car.#and now i feel like the universe is slotting things to push me in a career direction. i have a peculiar feeling #like i may be forced to take on new responsibilities (ideally with more pay)#but like its gonna happen whether i choose it or not. its gonna just BE FORCED and #the universe wont give me the option of IF id like to develop those skills. instead it will REQUIRE me to #learn the skills if i intend to stay at the place i am #(so i sure hope it comes w more pay)#but yeah i feel the universe about to kick an Unavoidable Situation with no options except DO or quit soon #things are moving toward unavoidable i can see it in the distance

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araneitela · 8 months

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Character, connections, and verses: (2/2)

#[ visage. ] yet he thought her smile looked sad. maybe someone left her before they could listen to everything she had to say.#[ meta. ] the mara's tether is firmly in her grasp. she will not pull upon it before the designated time; nor shall she relinquish it.#[ mini study. ] she must have sought something extraordinary. everything she does comes at a great cost.#[ essence. ] it started with sincerity and anticipation followed by a passionate catharsis; with one climax after another.#[ stellaron hunters. ] we all have our own individual goals. we may work together; but we work together for our own reasons.#[ astral express. ] in pursuit of the most dangerous objects in the universe? in that sense; you and i are cut from the same cloth.#[ conflict. ] looks like we're the ones getting ambushed. / but they're the ones getting besieged.#[ nessun dorma. ] da capo. fortississimo. capriccio. recitativo. doloroso. leggiero.#[ beauty. ] all beautiful things have one thing in common: fragility. the more fragile; the rarer. maybe that's what makes it so precious.#[ destiny. ] that's the nature of destiny — it creates a miracle but convinces you of an accident.#[ pteruges-v. ] it was one of many planets changed by a stellaron. ah #it's a shame i never got to witness how far it fell at the time.#[ caelus. ] i called out to you and you came. you had many choices; but everything led you here. to right here and right now.#[ inominati. ] you won't remember a thing except me.#[ elio. ] he can see the future; but he can't interfere with our choices. we are all 'destiny's slaves.#[ bladie. ] … her voice was very gentle. and even the monster inside his body stayed silent to listen to her. “but I don't want to.”#[ silver wolf. ] ignoring the rules is something she and i have in common.#[ sam. ] you should really stop playing with your food; kafka. / i know. next time. this time… it's already too late.#[ v: new babylon. ] i was a devil hunter. when people don't feel fear; they are dominated by desire and pleasure. they become “devils”.#[ v: present. ] we can only add one gold thread each time but eventually: we will pave the way for the future that is written.#[ v: future. ] the future is like a labyrinth: every divergence is merely an inducement. there is only one real path.#[ bladie. ] … her voice was very gentle. and even the monster inside his body stayed silent to listen to her. 'but I don't want to.'

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reasonsforhope · 8 months

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Story from the Washington Post here, non-paywall version here.

Washington Post stop blocking linksharing and shit challenge.

"The young woman was catatonic, stuck at the nurses’ station — unmoving, unblinking and unknowing of where or who she was.

Her name was April Burrell.

Before she became a patient, April had been an outgoing, straight-A student majoring in accounting at the University of Maryland Eastern Shore. But after a traumatic event when she was 21, April suddenly developed psychosis and became lost in a constant state of visual and auditory hallucinations. The former high school valedictorian could no longer communicate, bathe or take care of herself.

April was diagnosed with a severe form of schizophrenia, an often devastating mental illness that affects approximately 1 percent of the global population and can drastically impair how patients behave and perceive reality.

“She was the first person I ever saw as a patient,” said Sander Markx, director of precision psychiatry at Columbia University, who was still a medical student in 2000 when he first encountered April. “She is, to this day, the sickest patient I’ve ever seen.” ...

It would be nearly two decades before their paths crossed again. But in 2018, another chance encounter led to several medical discoveries...

Markx and his colleagues discovered that although April’s illness was clinically indistinguishable from schizophrenia, she also had lupus, an underlying and treatable autoimmune condition that was attacking her brain.

After months of targeted treatments [for lupus] — and more than two decades trapped in her mind — April woke up.

The awakening of April — and the successful treatment of other people with similar conditions — now stand to transform care for some of psychiatry’s sickest patients, many of whom are languishing in mental institutions.

Researchers working with the New York state mental health-care system have identified about 200 patients with autoimmune diseases, some institutionalized for years, who may be helped by the discovery.

And scientists around the world, including Germany and Britain, are conducting similar research, finding that underlying autoimmune and inflammatory processes may be more common in patients with a variety of psychiatric syndromes than previously believed.

Although the current research probably will help only a small subset of patients, the impact of the work is already beginning to reshape the practice of psychiatry and the way many cases of mental illness are diagnosed and treated.

“These are the forgotten souls,” said Markx. “We’re not just improving the lives of these people, but we’re bringing them back from a place that I didn’t think they could come back from.” ...

Waking up after two decades

The medical team set to work counteracting April’s rampaging immune system and started April on an intensive immunotherapy treatment for neuropsychiatric lupus...

The regimen is grueling, requiring a month-long break between each of the six rounds to allow the immune system to recover. But April started showing signs of improvement almost immediately...

A joyful reunion

“I’ve always wanted my sister to get back to who she was,” Guy Burrell said.

In 2020, April was deemed mentally competent to discharge herself from the psychiatric hospital where she had lived for nearly two decades, and she moved to a rehabilitation center...

Because of visiting restrictions related to covid, the family’s face-to-face reunion with April was delayed until last year. April’s brother, sister-in-law and their kids were finally able to visit her at a rehabilitation center, and the occasion was tearful and joyous.

“When she came in there, you would’ve thought she was a brand-new person,” Guy Burrell said. “She knew all of us, remembered different stuff from back when she was a child.” ...

The family felt as if they’d witnessed a miracle.

“She was hugging me, she was holding my hand,” Guy Burrell said. “You might as well have thrown a parade because we were so happy, because we hadn’t seen her like that in, like, forever.”

“It was like she came home,” Markx said. “We never thought that was possible.”

...After April’s unexpected recovery, the medical team put out an alert to the hospital system to identify any patients with antibody markers for autoimmune disease. A few months later, Anca Askanase, a rheumatologist and director of the Columbia Lupus Center,who had been on April’s treatment team, approached Markx. “I think we found our girl,” she said.

Bringing back Devine

When Devine Cruz was 9, she began to hear voices. At first, the voices fought with one another. But as she grew older, the voices would talk about her, [and over the years, things got worse].

For more than a decade, the young woman moved in and out of hospitals for treatment. Her symptoms included visual and auditory hallucinations, as well as delusions that prevented her from living a normal life.

Devine was eventually diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, which can result in symptoms of both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder. She also was diagnosed with intellectual disability.

She was on a laundry list of drugs — two antipsychotic medications, lithium, clonazepam, Ativan and benztropine — that came with a litany of side effects but didn’t resolve all her symptoms...

She also had lupus, which she had been diagnosed with when she was about 14, although doctors had never made a connection between the disease and her mental health...

Last August, the medical team prescribed monthly immunosuppressive infusions of corticosteroids and chemotherapy drugs, a regime similar to what April had been given a few years prior. By October, there were already dramatic signs of improvement.

“She was like ‘Yeah, I gotta go,’” Markx said. “‘Like, I’ve been missing out.’”

After several treatments, Devine began developing awareness that the voices in her head were different from real voices, a sign that she was reconnecting with reality. She finished her sixth and final round of infusions in January.

In March, she was well enough to meet with a reporter. “I feel like I’m already better,” Devine said during a conversation in Markx’s office at the New York State Psychiatric Institute, where she was treated. “I feel myself being a person that I was supposed to be my whole entire life.” ...

Her recovery is remarkable for several reasons, her doctors said. The voices and visions have stopped. And she no longer meets the diagnostic criteria for either schizoaffective disorder or intellectual disability, Markx said...

Today, Devine lives with her mother and is leading a more active and engaged life. She helps her mother cook, goes to the grocery store and navigates public transportation to keep her appointments. She is even babysitting her siblings’ young children — listening to music, taking them to the park or watching “Frozen 2” — responsibilities her family never would have entrusted her with before her recovery.

Expanding the search for more patients

While it is likely that only a subset of people diagnosed with schizophrenia and psychotic disorders have an underlying autoimmune condition, Markx and other doctors believe there are probably many more patients whose psychiatric conditions are caused or exacerbated by autoimmune issues...

The cases of April and Devine also helped inspire the development of the SNF Center for Precision Psychiatry and Mental Health at Columbia, which was named for the Stavros Niarchos Foundation, which awarded it a $75 million grant in April. The goal of the center is to develop new treatments based on specific genetic and autoimmune causes of psychiatric illness, said Joseph Gogos, co-director of the SNF Center.

Markx said he has begun care and treatment on about 40 patients since the SNF Center opened. The SNF Center is working with the New York State Office of Mental Health, which oversees one of the largest public mental health systems in America, to conduct whole genome sequencing and autoimmunity screening on inpatients at long-term facilities.

For “the most disabled, the sickest of the sick, even if we can help just a small fraction of them, by doing these detailed analyses, that’s worth something,” said Thomas Smith, chief medical officer for the New York State Office of Mental Health. “You’re helping save someone’s life, get them out of the hospital, have them live in the community, go home.”

Discussions are underway to extend the search to the 20,000 outpatients in the New York state system as well. Serious psychiatric disorders, like schizophrenia, are more likely to be undertreated in underprivileged groups. And autoimmune disorders like lupus disproportionately affect women and people of color with more severity.

Changing psychiatric care

How many people ultimately will be helped by the research remains a subject of debate in the scientific community. But the research has spurred excitement about the potential to better understand what is going on in the brain during serious mental illness...

Emerging research has implicated inflammation and immunological dysfunction as potential players in a variety of neuropsychiatric conditions, including schizophrenia, depression and autism.

“It opens new treatment possibilities to patients that used to be treated very differently,” said Ludger Tebartz van Elst, a professor of psychiatry and psychotherapy at University Medical Clinic Freiburg in Germany.

In one study, published last year in Molecular Psychiatry, Tebartz van Elst and his colleagues identified 91 psychiatric patients with suspected autoimmune diseases, and reported that immunotherapies benefited the majority of them.

Belinda Lennox, head of the psychiatry department at the University of Oxford, is enrolling patients in clinical trials to test the effectiveness of immunotherapy for autoimmune psychosis patients.

As a result of the research, screenings for immunological markers in psychotic patients are already routine in Germany, where psychiatrists regularly collect samples from cerebrospinal fluid.

Markx is also doing similar screening with his patients. He believes highly sensitive and inexpensive blood tests to detect different antibodies should become part of the standard screening protocol for psychosis.

Also on the horizon: more targeted immunotherapy rather than current “sledgehammer approaches” that suppress the immune system on a broad level, said George Yancopoulos, the co-founder and president of the pharmaceutical company Regeneron.

“I think we’re at the dawn of a new era. This is just the beginning,” said Yancopoulos."

-via The Washington Post, June 1, 2023

#mental illness #schizophrenia #schizoaffective #psychotic disorders #psychology #neurology #autoimmune #autoimmine disease #neuroscience #medical news #medical research #catatonia #immunotherapy #immune system #clinical trials #good news #hope

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lunasfics · 7 months

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Found Family

summary: In which Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent engage in a custody battle over a clone created from both their DNA, or, in which you get saved from a lab and gain two new families who would move mountains for you.

pairing: Bat Family x f! Reader, Supers x f! Reader

word count: 8.2k

preview

a/n: hello! IT'S FINALLY OUT WOOHOO, it's a bit long but i had a lot of fun writing it. certain characters may be a bit ooc so i do apologize as i'm still getting my footing on how to characterize certain people. let me know what you think! constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated (just pls don't be mean lol)! i left a somewhat open-ish ending because i wanna make this into a series/universe, and will start taking requests for drabbles in this universe, depending on how this is received! - luna :)

reblogs are appreciated!

“I’m in. Robin, what’s your status?” Bruce spoke into the earpiece, swiftly moving through the shadows of the lab. It was a simple mission: get into the lab Lex Luthor had created under Gotham City, collect intel needed to take down said lab, and leave. Unfortunately, it’s never really that simple, is it?

“I’m in, making my way through the west wing, cover is still intact,” Damian muttered back.

“Good. Nightwing?”

“Just entered the center lab, heading down to the bottom level now, haven't been spotted,” Dick said, making his way down the steps, careful to remain silent.

“Good. Remember the objective. In and Out.” Bruce muttered as he continued, searching for the locked file cabinet he was looking for.

“Files located. Ready for extraction” Damian said quietly through the intercom.

“I’ve made it to the bottom level. Requesting immediate backup, there's something here you guys need to see” Dick’s voice echoed through the earpiece, “They’ve made another clone.”

Bruce stopped what he was doing, silently making his way down the hall towards the staircase Dick took around a half hour before, “I'm on my way. Damian?”

“Heading there now. Files are downloaded.”

Upon arriving at the lower level, Dick bypasses security to let them in, making sure to reactivate the lock behind them, “Look.”

He gestured to the incubation tube not far from them, inside of it stood a young woman, who looked no older than 20, wearing a black skin-tight suit, a familiar “S” symbol adorning her chest, only it was the center of another symbol, the bat symbol, with bat ears at the top and bat wings on either side of it, a dark burgundy color with gold lining along the edges. The plaque below the tube read:

Attempt 1: G6B24

Specimen 1: Superman (Identity: Unknown)

Specimen 2: Batman (Identity: Unknown)

Status: Failed - Shows excessive signs of emotional intelligence (unfit for purpose), Subject is not invulnerable, Lacks thermal vision

‘Emotional Intelligence’ you must have shown hesitation, a moral compass.

“Father… what are we going to do?” Damian asked, he was at a loss, part of him felt slightly threatened, if you were taken in, he would no longer be the only child related to Bruce by DNA, and you were older, stronger— perhaps you would take his place, the place he’d finally felt he truly belonged; however he remained silent, his past self likely would have attempted to argue against your rescue, but he’d grown, he knew deep down you deserved a chance at this life just as much as he did.

Bruce looked up at your unconscious figure, at a loss for words, you were his daughter, intentional or not, there was a part of him in you, he only hoped that part wouldn't screw you over for life. As surprised as he was, he had an obligation to you the same way he did with Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Steph, Barbara, Duke, Damian, and every other vigilante he had taken under his wing.

His Batman instincts kicked in very quickly though, immediately refocusing himself, reading through the files, in an attempt to prepare himself for any possible scenario, he turned to Dick.

“Find all the DNA samples they have belonging to both me and Superman, we’re taking them,” he said, making sure to not hyper-focus on the thoughts flooding his mind.

“We’re not just leaving her here, are we? The plaque says ‘failed’. Who knows what could happen to her?” Dick said, he was frustrated.

Conner had gotten a chance to build a life for himself. You deserved one too, the mere thought of Bruce wanting to leave you there angered him.

“She’s coming with us. Damian, watch the door, Dick, find the samples," Bruce said gruffly, moving to the tube, bypassing the database to open it, without setting off any system safeguards. He reached into his utility belt and pulled out his shard of kryptonite, just in case it was needed to neutralize you.

The tube opened slowly, a swoosh sound filling the air as the cold fog escaped the tube, spilling into the air, your eyes fluttering open as you looked around, your eyes focusing on him.

You flew at him, full speed, pushing him against the wall with a thud, knocking the wind out of him, your eyes boring into his, glowing red, just as you were about to terminate him with your heat vision, he uttered the safe word he had seen in your file.

“Blue Pineapple” he grunted out, the red in your eyes fading away instantly, as you stared at him with wide eyes. You backed away slowly, lowering yourself to the floor. Your eyes fixed on him once again.

You recognized him from your programming, the man whose combat skills were engraved into your mind.

“Batman?”

Dick and Damian rushed over, making sure Bruce was okay. He was fine.

Dick turned to you, holding out his hand, “Come with me. We need to get you out of here, you aren’t safe here.”

You stared at him, your eyes narrowing, “Why should I trust you?”

Dick sighed, Those damn Wayne genetics, he kept his hand extended to you, “Because we’re helping you escape, if you come with us, you can meet Superman, be a hero just like him and Batman, you could actually see the world” he promised.

"I know what the world looks like." you stated bluntly.

He sighed, his hand not wavering, "But have you ever experienced it? Let us show you what that's like. You can have a life."

You thought for a moment, before letting out a small grunt, nodding at him and taking his hand, allowing them to lead you out of the lab grounds seemingly undetected.

When you stepped out, you stopped, eyes completely transfixed on the brilliant night sky. Blends of blues and purples and grays danced together to make the beautiful endless abyss above you. You knew every color there was. You knew everything, but at the same time you really didn't. You stared up at the stars, you knew how they came to be, you knew every scientific explanation there was yet seeing them… it made you feel a way you couldn’t explain.

They led you to the batmobile, situating you in the back seat with Damian, starting the drive to the Batcave. Bruce dialed Clark’s number into the keypad, it rang twice before he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Meet me in the Batcave. It’s urgent. Bring Conner.”

“What’s going o-”

He hung up.

Dick covered his mouth to hide his snicker, “So, Bruce, you and Clark have an official love child now, right? What will Lois think?” he feigned concern, placing the back of his hand over his forehead, committing to the drama, “Oh, how scandalous, I mean really, the shame! I can already see the headlines ‘Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne turned common whore after breaking up happy metropolis family’”

Damian covered his laugh with a cough.

You looked at the three of them, utterly confused, still processing what was going on.

Bruce huffed, shooting them both a glare, “Dick, be mature.”

Dick smiled, “I can't help myself, just wait til Jason finds out.” He smiled in excitement, as they pulled into the side entrance of the Batcave.

Bruce let out a deep, tired sigh.

Clark sat in silence in the Batcave, Conner standing to his left, his eyes wide as he stared at you, possessing some features belonging to both he and Bruce, and other features that seemed to be entirely your own.

You stared back, that same stoic nature radiating off of you that radiates off the Batman, however, he noted the defensive look in your eyes, one so similar to the one he saw in Conner when he first met him. He eyed your suit, noting the familiar “S” symbol, only it was a burgundy color, a rather interesting combination of the Batman and Superman emblems, and he was utterly confused.

He looked over at Bruce, still in his bat suit, his cowl pulled off, “Bruce, what the hell is going on?”

“I had to call you here because Luthor decided to create another clone. I did the DNA test, Clark, she’s a combination of both our DNA” Bruce looked at him, Dick and Damian standing to his right. It was silent for a moment, you felt like a guinea pig, the way they all stared at you. It made you angry.

Conner was the first to speak, stepping forward before opening his mouth, choosing his words carefully, “What’s your name?”

You responded immediately, it felt automatic. “Experiment attempt number one. Code G6B24. I was made to be the future killer of the Batman and the Kriptonian.”

He nodded slowly, “I’m a clone too, and Clark took me in— well, he took me in eventually— that’s besides the point. He showed me how to become my own person, we can help you do that too.”

You looked at him, eyes softening ever so slightly, but you kept your guard up like your Batman programming taught you to. “I was made to be a killer, if I don’t do what I was made to do, what am I worth?” you said quietly, voice unwavering.

Damian watched you, your words striking him in a way he hadn't expected them to, he understood what you were saying all too well.

Bruce decided to speak up next, “You were created, it’s not your fault what their intentions were when they did so. What you become from here on out is your choice.”

You stayed silent, eyes darting around the room—What is this feeling? Vulnerability? You knew it by definition, like you did most other feelings, but feeling them… it was different.

Dick noted the way you seemed overwhelmed, he approached you slowly, pulling up two chairs, motioning for you to sit, you chose to remain standing until he sat down first.

“You know, we trust you, we want to figure out a way for you to become the best you can be. On your terms” he said, offering you a small smile.

You looked around, the others nodded in agreement, “I was made to be only the best parts of you” you said, your gaze focusing on Clark and Bruce, they both put their best qualities forward to help others, how could you use those same qualities to destroy that?

“I… don’t want to be a killer. They said I was too… human. I thought I’d failed them.”

Damian decided to step forward, “You didn’t fail anyone, you are meant for greater things. You haven't killed anyone, you can choose your path. If the path you choose is the Robin mantle... I am willing to work with that.”

At this, the other men in the room turned to look at him, Clark and Conner were slack-jawed, this was the same kid who fought Tim tooth and nail over this mantle. The same mantle he was just… willing to give you?

Meanwhile Dick had a proud smile on his face, you thought you saw a small tear in his eye.

Bruce’s face seemed unreadable, however, you took notice of the way the corners of his lips turned up for a split second. before reverting back to their natural state.

You weren’t sure what to say, again, you knew what this mantle was, by definition. The reality was you had no sense of what it meant, the weight it carried. And you knew that.

“Thank you, but I feel like that title isn’t mine to take. I think I need to… become something that's true to who I am, whatever that may be.”

Bruce looked at you, the corner of his lip barely twitching up into a smile, a smile so subtle that only someone of your… background would notice, an attempt of his towards getting you more comfortable, “We should start with a name.”

You looked at Conner, he gave you an encouraging smile.

“Like I chose Conner, so now I’m Conner Kent,” he said with a small shrug, “You can choose whatever you want.”

“I see,” you thought for a moment, “I like Y/n.”

Clark smiled, standing up and clapping his hands together, “Great! Y/n Kent, has a nice ring to it.”

“Wayne.”

He turned towards Bruce, eyes narrowing slightly, “Kent.”

“Wayne.”

This time Conner spoke, “Kent.”

The three men stared at each other, arms crossed mirroring each-other’s glares.

Dick cut in, “How about Grayson?”

“No.” came their simultaneous response.

Dick frowned, slumping in the seat next to yours, “Jeez.”

Damian spoke next, “I suppose Al Ghul is off the table…”

Dick snorted, breaking out into a fit of laughter, you grinned softly at the sounds of his laughter, it reminded you of a windshield wiper.

Conner sighed, “Fine, what about Wayne-Kent?”

Bruce huffed, “I suppose.”

Clark nodded, the smile returning to his face as he turned to you, “Y/n Wayne-Kent”

You nodded, “I like it.”

Dick could help but laugh from beside you, “It's like I'm watching reality tv. Love me some baby mama drama.”

Clark opened his mouth to speak and closed it, before sighing and looking at Bruce, who just pinched the bridge of his nose.

Conner chuckled at the sight, turning to Damian, who’s lip quirked up in amusement.

Bruce looked up, his attention directed towards you, “Y/n, you can stay here for the night, I’ve asked Alfred to set up a room for you. Clark, Conner, come by tomorrow with Lois and Jon, I’ve called the others to come by as well, we’ll get everything situated tomorrow. For now, get some rest.”

Everyone nodded, Clark and Conner heading to the exit of the cave, Damian, Dick and Bruce leading you to the room that was prepared for you.

Dick brought you a sweater and some sweatpants to change into, closing the door with a soft, “Goodnight, kiddo.”

You changed in silence, slowly getting under the covers and drifting off to sleep, marking the start of your new life. Tomorrow would be an interesting day.

You woke up the next morning, to a soft knock on the door, your super hearing picking it up better than you would have liked. You opened the door, revealing an older man you hadn’t seen before. He smiled softly, giving you an instantaneous sense of comfort you couldn’t explain.

“Hello Miss Y/n. My name is Alfred, I am the butler,” he greeted you, handing you a folded set of clothes, “Master Kent chose these for you, however if they are not to your liking, do let me know.”

“They’re fine…Thank you.”

He smiled warmly, the kind old man giving you a nod, “Once you've changed, do come down, I’ve prepared breakfast. The other members of the family will arrive soon to meet you.”

You gave him a short nod, he smiled again, your demeanor reminding him of the young Bruce he’d looked after all those years ago. He shut your door softly before retreating down the staircase, leaving you in your room to change.

You picked up the small note that rested at the top of the pile, reading it over.

Comfortable, Practical, and cool. Hope you like it. - Conner

You looked down at the neatly folded clothes, unfolding a black long sleeve turtleneck shirt, the material was thick but breathable, you slipped it on with ease, the foreign material soft against your skin, you appreciated that it didn’t suffocate you.

You reached for the pants next, dark gray cargo pants, these were thicker, and the had an overwhelming amount of pockets. You slipped them on before slipping on the boots that were at the bottom of the stack and exiting the room, going down the staircase.

Upon entering the dining room, you were met with Bruce sitting at the head of the table, reading the paper calmly eating his pancakes, to his right sat Dick chatting excitedly to the boy next to him, who smiled at him as he listened, he was a slender boy with black hair who looked a bit younger than Dick. Then there was Alred, calmly enjoying his breakfast. Finally there was Damian on the other side of Bruce, leaving an empty seat between Damian and Alred. You sat down, the pale boy noticing you first.

Bruce looked up, “Tim, this is Y/n.”

“Hello.” You sat up awkwardly. One thing you never learned was how to navigate social interactions.

He studied you for a moment, offering you a small smile, “I’m Tim.”

You gave a nod, returning his smile with a smaller one of your own.

“She knows, by the way.” Dick chimed in.

His eyes widened, was that why you were there?

“How?”

All eyes are on you. You opened your mouth to speak but Damian spoke first.

“She’s a clone. Father will explain everything when everyone else arrives so as to not waste time, until then, hold on to your childish curiosity. I’d like to enjoy my breakfast.”

Dick nodded, “She was literally made for this shit.”

“Watch your language Master Dick, it is deplorable to speak in such a way at the table, much less in the presence of a lady.”

Dick blushed, “Sorry Alfred.”

Bruce simply gave a nod.

Tim slumped back in his seat, wanting to ask you questions about your abilities, your earliest memories, who were you a clone of, how your programming worked, the boy was itching to know it all.

Breakfast passed by relatively quickly after that, you weren’t bombarded with questions, much to your relief. Alfred kindly asked you how you slept to which you replied that you slept well. The sound of casual conversation and glassware scraping together filling the room. You enjoyed observing the atmosphere.

Clark and Conner were the first to arrive at the manor, greeting you happily, with them was a woman and a younger boy, who immediately went to sit by Damian.

Clark brought them over to you, the woman smiled warmly at you. It made you feel safe.

She held your hand in hers, “My name is Lois,” her voice was kind, genuine. You noted how she carried herself. Strong, secure, honest.

Clark was quick to bring Jon over, excited to introduce him, “This is my son, Jon.”

“Hi!” he beamed at you, you smiled, he was cute. Cheerful as he smiled brightly at you.

“Hello, my name is Y/n.” you greeted the two, who smiled at you.

Conner was the next to approach, “Did you like the clothes? I picked them out cause it was all I used to wear, but who knows, you may want something more… fashionable.”

You smiled softly, “They're nice, thank you.”

“On that note actually,” Clark said, “I was thinking we can take you shopping later, Bruce and I can pay.”

Bruce deadpanned, “That’s a joke, right?”

He smiled, “Of course, you’re paying for everything.”

“Sounds about right.”

Chatter filled the room not long after, Jon and Damian catching up on the couch while Conner and Tim started a conversation of their own.

The next people to arrive were three young women, blonde, brunette, and red hair. They had arrived together.

The blonde spoke first, “Why'd you call us here Bruce? We had planned for brunch.” She bitterly narrowed her eyes at him, the brunette behind her giving a short nod of agreement.

Bruce sighed, “We’re waiting on Jason. He’s late.”

“As always.” The redhead said with a sigh, though you could see she wasn't actually upset.

The blonde girl turned to you first smiling, “I’m Stephanie, but call me Steph. I’m assuming you’ll be joining our vigilante posse.” She seemed funny, and kind, like she truly cared for those around her.

“Somewhat, I don’t really know. I’m Y/n.” You said bluntly.

“Pretty name.” She smiled, gesturing to the red haired woman behind her, “This is Barbara, but she's really just Babs.” She then gestured to the brunette, “That’s Cass. She’s lovely.”

You looked at them and nodded, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Barbara smiled warmly at you, “You too, I’m so glad there’ll be another girl around, we can always use more company.” She smiled at you so kindly, despite having only just met you. Her voice was sweet, like honey.

Cass smiled softly at you, “Come to brunch with us later. Or, lunch, now since Jason is holding us up.”

You nodded your lip quirking up into a small smile, “I’d enjoy that.”

Truthfully, you didn't know what the fuck brunch was. But she said lunch and that you knew. You'd find out about brunch later.

Then, as if on cue, the man in question arrived, walking through the door, slipping off his brown jacket and tossing it on the couch. He was tall, with a stocky frame, jet black hair with a white streak on the front.

“This better be good.”

Tim mumbled, “Finally”

“Miss me Timmy?”

“Quite the contrary.”

The one called Jason laughed before giving him a small nudge, to which Tim swatted his hand away.

His eyes fixed on you, then on Bruce.

“Dude, seriously? Another one? You have a problem man. You’d think you would’ve stopped after me.”

Bruce stood up, “Jason, sit down. Now that you’re all here I wanted to introduce you to Y/n. She’s a clone, made from both mine, and Clark’s DNA.”

“Holy shit, man.”

“Jason, will you shut up?”

“Never.”

“As I was saying, she’ll be here in the manor for the time being, I’ll be training her and assessing her combat technique.”

“Hold on,” Clark interjected, “She should come with us, she needs to get the hang of her powers.”

“Clark, I have a state of the art training area in the cave.”

“So? We’re supers, all we need is an open field.”

“We need to assess her combat skills, and also assess the extent of her powers. She isn’t invulnerable. We need to prioritize getting to the bottom of that.”

Clark huffed but nodded, understanding the full extent of your abilities was vital in actually training you.

“It’s like I’m watching a custody battle.” muttered Steph, Barbara laughing quietly beside her.

“Wait- So Y/n is basically if you and Clark had a baby?” Tim gawked at them, his eyes shifting from Bruce to Clark, to you. When his eyes landed on you, he fired questions like he was on a time limit.

“How do Bruce’s genetics affect your abilities? Are you immune to kryptonite and invulnerable? How does your thermal vision work? Enhanced strength? Can you fly? Can you fly as fast as Superman? Do you have combat training? How do y-”

Conner smacked a hand over his mouth, leading him back to his seat, “Lets try not to overwhelm her with the questions.” He chuckled.

Tim nodded, looking up at you, “Sorry, Y/n.”

“That’s okay. To answer your questions, his genetics don’t necessarily have a huge impact on any of my abilities, I was created with every available video of Batman fighting embedded into my mind, and the combat skills were engraved in my memory, I should be able to replicate his fighting style to a tee. I’m not invulnerable, but in theory, the stealth I was programmed with allows me to stay agile enough that I shouldn’t often get hurt. I don't have thermal vision, but I do have laser vision, enhanced strength, and flight, although I haven’t tested how fast I actually can fly. And like I said, my combat training is essentially the combat footage uploaded into my mind.”

Tim had nodded, eyes trained on yours in complete interest as you answered each question, occasionally jotting something down on the notes app of his phone.

Lois narrowed her eyes slightly at both Bruce and Clark, “I do hope you’re factoring in giving her the opportunity to build an actual social life. Maybe get her enrolled in school.”

“She has doctorate-level information on several different topics stored into her mind, as well as fluency in 8 languages. I think she’ll be fine, Lois,” Bruce replied.

She rolled her eyes, “Okay, so school’s not necessary, what about building a social life for herself? That’s important.”

“There’s Young Justice,” Conner said, “I figured she’d join.”

Tim nodded in agreement, “I can help her get situated.”

“Where will I stay?” you asked, you didn’t particularly enjoy how they were all discussing you as if you weren't there, but there honestly wasn’t much you could do.

“You can stay at the manor, or you can stay with the team, but it'd be best if you lived here in the Manor.” Bruce replied.

“Why isn’t Metropolis an option?” Clark muttered.

“Because it’s more practical to have her here in Gotham, living with Tim will make it easier to adjust to the team.”

“I want time with her, Bruce.”

“You’ll get it. We’ll have her assessed, then three times a week she’ll train and get a hold of her powers with you.”

Clark nodded, satisfied with that answer.

Lois spoke again, turning to you, “Y/n, how does that sound to you?”

You blinked. “It sounds fine. My super hearing allows me to hear every conversation proficiently.”

She chuckled softly, “It’s a figure of speech sweetheart, I meant if you’re okay with everything that was said, you’ve been a bit quiet.”

You felt your face grow hot, “Oh. Yeah, I’m okay with it.”

Clark gave you a fond smile.

Bruce looked at you and smiled softly, a barely noticeable one, but a smile nonetheless.

The bulk of the conversation was over. The people in the room falling into easy conversation with one another, you look around, not sure what to do. That is until Jason approaches you, a kind smile on his face.

“Hey Y/n, I’m Jason, I’ll be honest, you probably won't see me too often cause I can barely stand being around Bruce, but… if he’s ever a dick, call me and I’ll either punch him for you and take you somewhere he’s not.” he grinned, “Or both.”

You laughed softly, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He nodded, “I’ll be raiding the kitchen, but if anyone asks, I left.” He shoots you a grin before slipping away.

It’s not long after that when Jon approaches you, Damian by his side, he shoots you a toothy grin, “So, you’re like, my sister now, right?”

You’re not sure how to respond, but you feel a puddle of warmth pooling in your heart, it’s nice. You smile at him softly, “I suppose so.”

He grins, “And that would also make you Damian’s sister. right?”

“I suppose so.”

“See Damian, we’re blood brothers by extension.”

“Jon, that is the most imbecilic logic I’ve ever encountered. Just because Y/n is both my blood and yours doesn’t mean–”

“Blood brothers!” He had shouted cheerfully, before walking away and over to Lois to inform her of the good news.

Damian sighed, though you took notice of the soft smile that flashed across his face, you concluded that he cared for him.

A lot of people in this family– Bruce’s family specifically, tend to hide affection, despite the fact that it is apparent to you that they feel it. You decide not to focus on it, people are complicated.

You chat a bit with various people in the room, Lois telling you that you’re always welcome to visit whenever you’d like, Barbara talking to you about how her work as Oracle, Steph telling you all about the other vigilantes you’ll probably end up crossing paths with. Tim and Conner sat by you, telling you all about the team and the people you’ll meet once all your training is done.

Slowly, people start to leave, you saw Jason slip out the front door first, sending you a wink. Dick left not long after, needing to return to his responsibilities in Bludhaven, making sure to tell you you’re always welcome to visit him over there. Then Clark left with Lois, Jon, and Conner, leaving the residents of the manor plus, Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Damian and Tim had retreated to their rooms, while Alfred busied himself with household chores, Bruce stood up, approaching you before saying, “Did you still want to go shopping? You’ll need training clothes.”

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

Steph perked up, rushing towards the two of you, “Oh, we have to come.”

“Steph, you go shopping every week. With my card.”

Barbara chimed in, “It’s not about that Bruce, you have a terrible fashion sense. We can’t let you impose that onto Y/n.”

Cass nodded in agreement.

“We’re just buying training clothes.”

“She can’t wear training clothes in her daily life,” Steph rolled her eyes, “She needs a wardrobe.”

You smiled, “I would like a wardrobe.”

“See?”

Bruce sighed but nodded, “Let's go then.”

Steph cheered while Barbara and Cass high-fived behind her, it was an amusing site.

When you arrived at the mall, Steph immediately linked arms with you, dragging you around to her favorite stores, paying no mind to your super strength potentially being able to accidentally break her arm. It caught you off guard, not only the physical display of affection, but the trust.

Again, you felt that soft puddle of warmth pool in your chest. You could get used to that.

You had gotten to know Barbara and Cass fairly well during the trip as well, Barbara was sweet, she and Steph made you laugh more than you thought you could. Cass and you got along well too, she picked out the clothes you liked the most, always nodding in approval when you would try anything on, a soft smile on her face. The three of them opened their group up to you so quickly, it had surprised you, you felt that with their company you were better able to navigate finding yourself.

The four of you hadn’t paid much mind to Bruce trailing behind you as you went from store to store, not that he minded. He held a fond smile as he observed the four of you giggling, talking, and having a good time.

He knew his focus on training was important, but he also knew Lois was right (not that he’d admit that to anyone), you needed a social life too. And he knew your heightened emotional intelligence would surely allow you to obtain that, you just needed to blossom, and allow yourself to break free of the restraints you put on yourself.

He’d lost count of how many times he had swiped his card that day, at some point he had decided to just start waiting by the front, once you guys were ready, he’d walk over, swipe his card, and you guys would move on to the next shop. He wouldn't say this to anyone, but he enjoyed doing things like this, taking care of the people he cares about.

The last store you had gone to was WayneTech, it was Bruce’s idea. You needed a phone in order to keep everyone’s contacts. So they brought you there where you got the latest model of their cell phone line, it was sleek and thin. You picked out a case and you got a screen protector. Bruce had told you that once you got to the Batcave he’d input league contacts, safety features, as well as league-level security settings.

By the end of the trip it was early in the evening, Bruce had his arms absolutely filled with shopping bags, and what he couldn’t carry was carried by you and Steph. The five of you stepped out into the parking lot, the sun setting, casting a deep orange hue on the parking lot. You took in the image in front of you, you didn’t know suns could set so beautifully.

The ride home was nice, the car was filled with the soft chatter of the four of you, Bruce didn’t feel the need to listen in. The soft music playing on the stereo as a background was a nice addition to the atmosphere.

When you’d arrived at the manor, the girls had bid you goodbye, but not before making sure they had your number to add you to their group chat. You were warned by Steph that Cass’s meme game could not be beat. You were slightly confused but nodded, a happy smile on your face. They each gave you a hug before getting in their cars and heading off.

The walk into the manor was silent, but not awkward, mainly the two of you taking armfuls of bags up to your room.

As he shut the door, Bruce turned to you, “It’s not too late, if you want, we could start out on some training.”

You nodded, going into your room to change, “I’ll be down there in a bit.”

He nodded, walking away to change as well.

You entered the Batcave shortly after, comfortable in your black sweatpants, and a black long sleeve athletic shirt. Now, having a better opportunity to take it all in, it was massive. You looked to your left to see Damian sparring with Tim in one of the further training areas. You walked over to Bruce, he gave you a small smile, leading you to the second training area by Tim and Damian, who by now had stopped sparring, in favor of observing your skill.

“You can replicate my fighting style to a tee, right?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see it.”

You charged first, making sure to suppress your strength, your movements swift and calculated, landing a fast right kick to his abdomen. He sidestepped, landing a swift punch to your side. You kept attempting attacks on eachother, each one dodging the other flawlessly.

Tim and Damian watched in awe as the two of you gracefully moved, as if you were dancing. This went on for several minutes, until you attempted a fast left kick to his side, which he caught, using as leverage to flip you over on your back.

Your limbs ached, you looked up at him, “How did you do that?”

He held a hand out to help you up, “I’m not as fast with my left kicks as I am with my right ones. My weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

You nodded. Made sense.

“You have good technique, and you replicate my fighting perfectly, but that’s all it is. A replication. You need to make it your own. Adapt it in accordance with your abilities, you can’t do that now because Clark hasn’t trained you, but in time you will.”

You nodded, your chest swelling with pride at his compliment, you knew after your training with Clark you would be able to better adjust your fighting style.

Damian walked over to you, “Y/n. I’d like to spar, you’ve proven to be a worthy opponent.”

You nodded, it would be good to spar with someone with a different fighting style. Tim sat down to the side, perfectly content with just observing for now, like earlier, he occasionally jotted down some notes on his phone. You decided you didn’t mind it. It was endearing.

This time, Damian charged first, landing a swift right kick to your ribs, you turned and landed a hard kick to his chest, sending him back, before he flipped and caught himself, running towards you again. His smaller frame provided him with an advantage as he jumped onto your shoulders, before he could land his blow, you flipped your body, sending him to the floor, landing on his back with a thud. You crouched over him, extending your hand.

“You okay?”

“Fine.” he took your hand, getting up to his feet, you gave him a soft smile, which he returned, giving you a nod of approval. He, like Bruce, didn’t often use his words, but you were able to discern their intentions just fine.

Bruce then led you to a machine he had in the cave, where it analyzed your genetics in comparison to Clark’s, he had determined you were missing the genetic composition that happened to be the main source of invulnerability, therefore the reason you were the way you were. You are unfortunately still weak when exposed to kryptonite.

You were tired by the end of the night. You felt you had bonded with Damian, he had asked you to spar with him another time, to which you agreed.

The next day, Bruce had sent you over to Smallville, where Clark had decided on training you, ‘A good old fashioned open field’ were his exact words.

He made sure to send you wearing your original suit, not knowing how fast you would be flying, just in case, only you didn’t like it, so you opted to wear some sweats over the suit.

And there you were, floating about 300 feet in the air with him, as he explained the basics of flying.

“You want to create your own leverage, using your flight, you should be able to do this.” He bent one leg, tilting to the right as he effortlessly glided in that direction, he repeated the action only now going in the opposite direction.

You nodded, imitating his movements, gliding from side to side before stopping and looking at him. He smiled brightly at you, “You’re doing great, kid. There was never a point where you didn’t have powers, so this should be easy. Now, we’ll test your speed.”

You nodded, “How are we doing that?”

He pulled out a stopwatch, “I’m going to wait here while you fly to Gotham and back. You know the route?”

You nodded.

“Okay… and…. Go!”

You immediately shot forward, a slightly bumpy start but your body adapted immediately, you felt the wind whip through your hair, and a smile spread across your face as you made a U-turn around Gotham, making it back to Clark in seconds.

“2.6 seconds. That’s good.” He smiled at you.

You went on like that for the next few hours, him giving you encouraging words of advice, and you gained better control over your abilities, him providing you with tips he learned over the years. For that last hour, Jon and Conner joined the two of you, the four of you eventually just playing air tag until Martha and Lois called you in for dinner.

They insisted you stay for dinner, and you had no mind to refuse, spending time with them was nice. Jon insisted he sat next to you at dinner, excitedly talking your ear off about whatever he’d gotten to that day, and sharing his favorite stories about Damian with you. He acts like he doesn't like people, but he’s got a soft spot for a lot of us, were his exact words. You honestly completely agreed, you smiled at him as he continued talking.

That day you’d gotten to know Martha and Jonanthan Kent, who insisted you called them Ma and Pa. They instantly coddled you as if they’d known you since birth, though, in a way, that is technically the case.

They didn't let you leave empty handed, sending you off with tupper-ware filled with leftovers, cookies and pie. You thanked them for their hospitality and headed back to the manor.

The next few months were mainly doing morning and evening training with Bruce, occasionally Dick would stop by to train with you, always telling you he was proud of your improvement, which never failed to make you glow just a little brighter with pride. He’d begun a tradition where he would treat you to a burger after training, or whatever it was you were craving. He said that it was his goal to get you to try every fast food joint in Gotham, deciding that it was just an essential part of living there. You quickly decided you hated fast food, but never said anything because that wasn’t at all what mattered to you, what mattered to you was the bond you were creating with your older brother.

Your relationship with Bruce wasn’t perfect. There were times you saw how focused he was on his mission, neglecting the feelings of those around him, he could be an asshole. And with you still navigating your emotions, you’d get angry and yell, and so would he. If you saw him brushing off Damian, or Tim, one look at the crestfallen expressions on their faces was enough to get you angry. You shouldn’t have been surprised, truthfully, you weren’t. You were too similar. You were just fortunate enough to be surrounded by people early on who could convince you to let them in.

Regardless of the imperfections between you and Bruce, you knew he cared. He always showed it with the small smile he’d give you as he held up two tickets to the movie you had wanted to see. Or in the way he’d lure everyone into the living room with snacks for a movie night. Or how he’d try his best to always express to you that you were doing well. That you were enough, and that you deserved to be there.

You’d grown closer with Tim, too, always willing to help him with his assignments (not that he often needed it, but on the rare occasions his sleep deprived self couldn’t wrap his head around a problem). You’d often go to him when you needed help figuring something out on your phone, to which he would offer a simple solution you hadn’t seen before.

Tim was kind, he showed he cared for you by fixing things, when you cracked your screen protector by accidentally tapping it too hard, he made you a new one that could withstand the force of a bullet. He learned to confide in you over time, telling you about Bernard, expressing his worries to you about whether or not he’s good enough. You’d always tell him he was more than good enough.

Damian had taken to calling you ‘sister’, often challenging and teasing you when he could, you’d developed a relationship where he’d go to you for company. You’d sit in the garden and take in the life around you, while he sat a few feet away and drew it.

Once, he drew you while you weren’t looking, when he finished, he handed it to you without a word and walked away. In the bottom right corner you read ‘Y/n Wayne-Kent’ in neat handwriting, just below that, ‘sister’. That was the first time he’d used that word for you. Your heart swelled.

You continued seeing Steph, Barbara, and Cass, regularly having lunch with them and talking with them on the phone. Barbara, or as you now called her, Babs, was always there to guide you when you needed it, she’d often send you small gifts from time to time, like jewelry that reminded her of you.

Cass and you would often find the most peaceful company in each other. She would listen to you talk about all the things you'd been learning, telling you about her own experience adjusting to a new life.

Steph and you bonded over poorly written hallmark movies, she always giggled madly when you would point out plot inconsistencies, wearing the most confused expression she had ever seen on a person, you didn’t understand why at first, you would just state facts, but you always enjoyed the time with her. She always says you guys should start a podcast, and you always agree. You hope she never asks you what a podcast is... because you genuinely didn't know.

True to his word, you didn’t see Jason often, but there were a few instances where you felt particularly suffocated by Bruce’s training that you took him up on his offer to take you somewhere he wasn’t. Those moments were... nice. Every time, he would bring food, and take you to his apartment, where you talked about books and he introduced you to some of his favorite movies. You didn’t know why he and Bruce didn’t get along, but you chose not to pry.

Alfred had taken a liking to you instantly, he enjoyed giving you etiquette lessons, and would bake all kinds of scones and cookies for you to try. His humor was at times very dry and sarcastic, which never failed to make you laugh. He taught you how to bake once, finding you were exceptionally good at it, ‘Miss Y/n, I think we’ve found your natural talent’. You hadn’t expected to be good at it, but Alfred said you were phenomenal.

You’d also train with Clark 3 times a week, getting even closer with the Kents, integrating yourself in both families. It was interesting being part of two very different families. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Clark had shown you a lot about your powers, but it was never just training. It had become a necessity for the two of you to fly to some famous landmark and have lunch together, before flying back to Smallville for more training.

Clark was constantly trying his best for you, he still had his regrets from his initial relationship with Conner, and although he was forgiven and their relationship was rebuilt, he knew he lost time. And he absolutely refused to repeat that and hurt someone else who didn’t deserve it.

You always stayed for dinner, you found that you could never say no to Jon, the one time you tried was awful, you felt so bad that you went back the next day and took him shopping. With Bruce's card, duh.

Jon was stuck to you like glue whenever you were over. He always insisted on sitting by you and talking to you about whatever he’d been up to. He flew around with you a lot, you guys would play games that he taught you how to play. Your favorite moments were when he and Damian would allow you in to watch them play video games because ‘How do you not know how to play video games? That’s just wrong. We’ll teach you.’

Conner had spent more and more time with you as well, telling you about a lot of social cues, the importance of boundaries, etc. He was determined to help you adjust in every way he could, he shared his experiences with you when he first started working in teams. You learned a lot from him, he was very affectionate with you, but in that awkward-older-brother way. He’d give you a soft pat on the back and a smile, he knew you’d do just fine.

Lois became your role model, you truly admired her. She was strong, outspoken, confident. She helped you not be afraid of forming your own opinions and voicing them. One time she saw you yell at Bruce over something he’d done, and all she could do was smile proudly.

These people whose lives you just appeared in one day, very quickly became your family. Every day you were reminded of how lucky you were to have come to care for them as much as you do. Bonding with them was nice, and you very quickly understood the appeal of having family.

These are people who care for you unconditionally, simply because they want to. Because every moment that they spend with you, they choose to.

And just like that, you were ready to meet the team. You had learned to combine your combat skills with your powers, if you need to, you can fight in mid air. You’d learned to incorporate your abilities into your technique to enhance your own personal style. And it felt amazing.

You knew every possible way to deliver an effective, non-lethal blow. Of course, you needed a suit. Bruce offered to enhance the one you had worn the day they rescued you, but you wanted a new one. To you, that suit represented what you were created to be, and that is not who you are. You wanted something true to yourself, and he understood and wholeheartedly supported you. Damian helped you make a sketch, and together you’d designed the perfect representation of you. And you became Eclipse. The alignment of two heroes, though unintentional, created a whole new hero. You.

Taglist- @one-green-frog @bonniecat @minnieearsposts @chickentenderx @murkyponds @loserwithnofriends @ilikefanfics4 @fangirlvibez @instantplaiddream @lovelywritersgarden @calicocat45 @strawberrycreamh @sappynappysworld @zyuuuu @allycat4458 @lovelypitasworld @batfamlover @pterodactyl-hater @american-idiot21 @starlets-things @th1s-b1tch-1s-dead @dontgivemeyourname @normal-internet-user @sillyfinn @lostgirlsstuff @llvmakk @princess76179 @vanessa-boo @1lellykins @blitzythefanvergentpitsterthings @samibrewss @pickyblue12 @thetiredtoad0-0 @lacklustertrashbag (I'm not sure why some people's tags didn't work,, I am very sorry, if anyone has suggestions onhow to fix that i'm open to fix them)

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month

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Steve grows up playing piano, absolutely hates it, but is so good at it. His parents aren’t around enough by the time he’s a teen to force him to his practices, so he slowly stops going.

His music teacher happens to be Robin’s mom, who studied at Juilliard, and traveled for nearly a decade with various orchestras and bands before settling down with her husband in Hawkins.

She can see what’s going on with Steve from day one, but knows better than to interfere.

Until he quits.

She can’t stand by and let someone so musically gifted give it up.

She shows up at his house with a violin, her own violin that she hadn’t used in years.

He’s hesitant at first, but decides to give it a try as long as she doesn’t tell his parents. The last thing he wants is for them to find out he picked up a new instrument.

She can’t give him official lessons, so she shows up to his house twice a week and hopes that he practices in his own time.

He’s a natural.

He takes to it like a duck to water.

She encourages him to perform in a local talent show, all kids under 18, most of them not half as talented as he is.

He only agrees when she says she’ll be front row.

And sure enough, for once in his life, someone shows up when they say they will. She’s sitting front row with her husband on one side and her daughter on the other. She smiles as he takes the stage, nervous about people who know him seeing him and reporting back to his parents.

He performs with heart, something he lacked with the piano. He performs with talent, something he may have with any instrument he picks up.

But most importantly, he plays with a smile. He’s having fun.

He sticks around to watch some of the other people performing: Tammy Thompson singing a very out of tune rendition of America The Beautiful, some kid from one of his classes playing piano miserably, and some band performing very loud, very angry music.

Steve wins, and for once, it feels better than when he wins at a swim meet or basketball game.

He spends the next three years secretly practicing, only performing in shows out of town, never saying anything to his parents.

He doesn’t want them to ruin this for him.

He applies to Juilliard, not thinking he has a chance in hell, not with his academic grades.

Luckily, they see that he’s “exceptional with the strings” and “plays with emotion that can’t be trained.”

He gets in.

He goes.

He thinks he may actually be able to do this, use a gift he has to make his life better.

His parents even find it acceptable, mostly because he got into the best school he could have. They still don’t bother showing up for his shows, but Mrs. Buckley always finds a way.

In his sophomore year, Robin gets in, and they both move into a small apartment off campus together. He promised to look out for her.

She tells him that music wasn’t really her passion, she was just good with a trumpet. She really wanted to be an engineer.

In his junior year, Robin transfers to Columbia, starts doing what she really wanted to do from the start. He’s proud of her, but misses having someone on campus during the day to have lunch with.

Until he stumbles, literally, into someone vaguely familiar.

“Sorry, man. Running late.”

Steve pats the man on the shoulder and turns to get to his class when the man stops him.

“Harrington? You’re a student here?”

He turns back and finally recognizes the man in front of him.

“Munson? When did you get here?”

“I got in this year. Kinda fucked up my first audition last year and they were kind enough to give me another shot.” Eddie smiled. “What on earth are you here for?”

“Violin. You?”

“Guitar and songwriting.”

“That’s great, man. I’m just really running late. Catch up soon?”

Soon was two weeks later, when Steve ran into Eddie again while leaving class.

“We should probably stop running into each other like this,” Eddie smirked. “The universe is trying to tell us something.”

“What’s it trying to tell us?”

“Not sure. Maybe we should go grab dinner and find out.”

“Now?”

“Why not? Got better plans?”

Steve thought about how Robin was barely at the apartment due to studying for midterms. He thought about how his only other friend from here was busy rehearsing for their senior showcase.

“Nah. Let me bring this home first,” he held up his violin case. “Actually.”

Steve was on a budget. His parents gave him money, sure, but they thought he was living on campus so the money they sent covered rent and groceries and nothing else.

“I could make dinner. If you want?”

“Steve Harrington cooks? And plays violin?” Eddie fake swooned. “Be still my beating heart. How will I not be seduced?”

Steve rolled his eyes. He remembered Eddie’s dramatics from school and knew better than to feed into them.

“I can make some spaghetti. Nothing fancy.”

“Spaghetti sounds great,” Eddie’s fake swoon turned to a soft smile. “You want some help?”

Steve didn’t need help, usually didn’t even want any.

But something about the way his stomach dipped when Eddie stepped closer, and the way he thought about having Eddie in his apartment, made him agree.

“Sure.”

They walked to Steve’s apartment in a comfortable silence, though Eddie kept tapping the back of his fingers against Steve’s hand.

Eddie fit next to Steve. They cooked together, they ate together, they even managed to clean up together. It was easy to find something to talk about. He’d never clicked with anyone like this, not even Robin.

By the time Robin came home, Steve and Eddie were both passed out on the couch, fingers laced together as if they hadn’t been brave enough to do anything more before they fell asleep.

By morning, Steve’s head was on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s arm wrapped around him loosely.

Waking up to a soft kiss on his lips was something Steve couldn’t have imagined when he first ran into Eddie, but he was pretty glad it was how he started his day.

And almost every day after that, whether he woke up to a kiss, or met up with Eddie on campus for a kiss, he started his day with love on his lips.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #headcanon #drabble #musician Steve Harrington #musician eddie munson #we love alternate meetings in this house #we’re gonna say it’s a modern au to make things simpler #just go with it

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soaps-mohawk · 3 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 6: One Step Closer

Summary: You're all trying to adjust to the changes happening between you and the members of your pack.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, some Price x Gaz

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, suggestive content, handjobs, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language

A/N: I'm not entirely happy with this one and might come back when I feel better and do some changes, but for now, it's fine. Mostly just a filler chapter more than anything. Some sweet moments, some maybe steamy...Building up for some more exciting things coming in the next parts. Also I just wanted to clear something up, pretty much everyone in this universe is at least a little bisexual. That will make sense once you read the chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

(Gif found on Google)

He curses the click of the door as it opens, making sure to go slowly so it doesn’t squeak as it’s prone to when it rains. His lips turn up in a smile as he catches a glimpse at the sight on the couch, no more than half a moment before Price’s honed senses cause him to wake at the change in atmosphere.

He blinks tired eyes at Gaz, head lifting from where it had drooped to his chest in his sleep. He adjusts his hold on you, still asleep and unaware in the safety of your alpha’s arms.

“Sleeping in your office again, sir?” Gaz says quietly, stepping closer to the couch.

Price grunts quietly, shifting his hold on you so he can lift a hand to rub at his eyes. His voice is thick and gravelly with sleep as he answers. “Didn’t mean to.”

Gaz hums, running a hand through Price’s hair as the air between them changes from Captain and Sergeant to alpha and beta. “Should get you both to bed.”

“You take her.” Price murmurs. “She’ll forgive you easier for invading her space.”

Gaz knows he’s right. He’d already been invited in once. His scent in your space would be less jarring than Price’s. Price carefully unravels your arms from around his neck, letting Gaz slip his arms under you to lift you off his lap. You stir slightly at the movement, letting out a quiet grumble.

“Shh pretty girl.” Gaz shushes you, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Just taking you to bed.”

Price follows behind him as he carries you through the halls to your room. You’re asleep by the time he reaches your door, Price opening it for him. Gaz slips in, carrying you to your bed. He makes sure you’re comfortable, tucking the blanket around you before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

He spares one last glance at you fast asleep before he closes the door, turning to Price. “Your turn.”

“You gonna carry me too?” Price asks, a playful glint shining in his eyes despite the obvious exhaustion.

Gaz huffs out a laugh. “You wish.” He puts a hand on his back, guiding Price down to his door, closest to the entry to the barracks.

He follows the alpha into his space, meticulously clean and tidy as usual. They both blink against the harsh overhead light, Gaz leaning against the door as Price begins emptying his pockets, getting settled in his space.

“She knelt for me tonight.” Price says as he sits at his desk to unlace his boots.

“She’s making headway.” Gaz replies, surprised that you asked to kneel so soon. He knows how meaningful kneeling is to both alpha and omega, how intense it can be, how much trust there is involved.

Price hums, standing to remove his pants. “I fear Laswell was right. She’s turning out to be a good fit.”

“She’s already got Simon worked up.” Gaz smiles, moving to the dresser to fish out clean sleep clothes. “I fear she may be taking a page out of Johnny’s book.”

“Well, if it gets him to stop torturing himself, then I can’t say I’ll complain.” Price says, pulling his shirt over his head. “You know how he is.”

“I know.” Gaz says, holding out the clean shirt and sweatpants. “Can’t say I blame him entirely. Not after what he’s been through.”

Price slips on the clean clothes, stepping closer to Gaz. “He’ll warm up to our girl eventually.”

“‘Our girl?’” Gaz’s eyebrows lift as Price steps in even closer, their noses brushing. “That’s quite the jump.”

“She’s been our girl from the start. As soon as those papers were finalized, there was no sending her back.” Price says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Gaz’s lips. “I wouldn’t put her through that. Not after everything.”

Gaz pulls back, Staring at Price’s face. “You know something.”

“I wouldn’t say I know anything, but I have my suspicions.” He moves past Gaz, turning off the overhead light. “I know we all do.”

“You think she’ll tell us?”

“I think she will, with time. I don’t want to push her into too much too soon.” He pats Gaz on the ass. “Come on, in bed.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Gaz smirks, Price giving him a look as the beta pulls down the covers, crawling into the bed.

Price groans internally, trying to calm the twitch in his pants at the mental picture of you, those big puppy eyes shining playfully as you saluted him. The small spark of excitement every time you call him “sir.” How easily you relaxed for him while you knelt, giving over complete trust and control to him for an hour.

He crawls under the covers, tossing an arm over Gaz, trying to block out all the mental images flashing through his head.

“Forget something in your pocket, sir?” Gaz says, the smirk evident in his voice.

“Shut it, Garrick.”

You’re jarred awake by the sound of movement in the hallway. You let out a quiet noise of indignation, letting your eyes close again. It’s too early, around the time the boys leave to go workout. You’ve been graciously given a couple days off to rest and recover, likely Price’s recommendation. You knew if it were up to Ghost, he’d force you to work through the pain. You’re glad for the break, though, and you would be even if you weren’t horribly sore.

Your head is still spinning a bit from last night. You’re not quite sure how you made it to bed, but the faint scent of clean linen and the sea gives you an idea. You bury your face in your pillow, letting out a groan. You knelt for Price last night. You opened yourself up to that vulnerability, and he had graciously guided and supported you through it. He didn’t scruff you, even though he could have, nor was there any demand for control in his grasp, he could have easily taken it.

He’d been a good alpha, helping you relax and destress. You feel lighter for the first time in weeks, since you found out where you were going and who your new pack was going to be. You feel lighter than you have in your entire time on this base, though that could just be the endorphins still flowing a bit from kneeling for your alpha.

It’ll be easier to come down from it once you’re bonded, you know that. Once there’s that connection between you, and you’re around him all the time. You’ll be moving into his room, or at least you’ll spend most of your time in there. You’ll sleep in his bed with him. You wonder if he’s a cuddler, or if he prefers personal space. Would Gaz join you sometimes? You can practically feel the warmth of being sandwiched between them, battle hardened hands trailing along your bare body because you’ll be naked and well bonded with both of them.

You bury your burning face in your pillow letting out a muffled, quiet scream at the thoughts your mind is conjuring. You feel hot, warmth pooling in your stomach. There’s no going back to sleep now, you know that.

You get up, rushing to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face and erase the thoughts in your head. It’s entirely natural, having these thoughts. You will get to that place, very soon, with Price. The others could pursue that sort of relationship with you as well, if they wanted to. It will likely happen naturally with Gaz, given his bond with Price, and after your kiss with Soap...

You’re not sure if it would happen with Ghost, or if he would allow it. You can’t help but think about yesterday, how easily he had overpowered you with just his scent. You had been scared, as it was your nature to be when an alpha was posing a direct threat to you, but the way he had looked hovering over you, the feeling of him pressed against you when he’d pinned you to the floor. How easily he got you into that position. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of him pinning you down like that, or better, pinning you against Soap, his hand on the back of your neck.

You splash cold water on your face, holding your breath until your lower body stops pulsing in time with your heart. You let out a quiet curse, focusing on getting ready for the day before grabbing your book and heading for the rec room to try and calm yourself.

“You’re up early, love.”

You jump at the voice, lowering your book as you look up from your spot stretched out on the couch. Gaz is standing there, skin dewy with sweat. They must have just returned from their morning workout, heading in to shower and get ready for the day. Gaz must have noticed your scent and followed it.

“Couldn’t get back to sleep.” You explain as he moves closer to the couch. “Gaz!” You shriek as he crawls over you, dropping his body on top of yours. “You’re all sweaty!”

“You can shower later.” He says, resting his face against your chest, his elbows pressed into the cushions so he’s not completely squishing you with his weight.

“You should be showering now.” You say, trying not to breathe in too much of his scent. It’s heavily tainted with the scent of sweat and musk.

“Then we can shower together.” He murmurs, nuzzling his face further into your chest.

Your face warms, your heart rate picking up at his teasing. The thought of being enclosed in the shower with him, such a small space, packed in together. Skin to skin, bare before each other. You might implode beneath him, warmth beginning to travel down your spine after your thoughts earlier.

“Relax.” He murmurs with a grin, obviously picking up the quickening of your heart rate and the change in your scent. “I’m teasing.”

He’s just as bad as Soap, but not quite as blatant with it. While Soap would tease at any open opportunity, Gaz tended to choose his moments wisely, slipping some teasing remark in when you least expected it.

Gaz goes quiet as he lays there, his breathing steady. You mark your page before reaching up to set the book on the arm of the couch. You can’t help yourself as you run your fingers through his short cropped, damp curls, gently scratching at his scalp. He makes a quiet noise, his body getting heavier.

“Gaz?” You murmur, earning a grunt in response. “Are you falling asleep?”

“Can’t help it.” He murmurs. “So comfy.”

Your cheeks warm as he nuzzles into your chest, letting out a content sigh. You fight the urge to release one of your own, feeling warm and content even pressed against the lumpy cushions of the couch. How easy it is to find comfort even in the most uncomfortable places.

It doesn’t have to be uncomfortable.

Your heart rate kicks up again, hand stilling where it had been scratching Gaz’s scalp. You’re allowed to want. You asked yesterday and nothing bad happened.

“Gaz?” You murmur, trying to fight the nervous twisting of your stomach. “Would you...if I wanted something, would you get it for me, even if it’s stupid?”

Gaz shifts on top of you, knees pressing into the couch as he pushes himself higher so you’re face to face. One of his legs is between yours, holding him up so he doesn’t squish you under his weight.

He stares down at you, blinking the haze of sleep from his dark eyes. “Babygirl, I’d take over the world for you if that’s what you wanted.”

Your lips part in surprise at his answer. You’re not entirely sure he’s allowed to say something like that, even as a joke. The sentiment of it is not lost on you, and you find tears prickling the backs of your eyes.

His arms shift beneath you, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “Tell me what you want.”

You stare up into those big, sweet, dark eyes. Gaz radiates a kindness and calmness like you haven’t felt in a long time. Not that the others aren’t kind, even in Ghost and his aggressiveness, you’ve felt the protective drive within him. It wasn’t based on any claim or sense of ownership, even a sense of duty couldn’t bring forward that kind of reaction. But Gaz...there’s just something so soft and gentle despite the danger he could pose.

“Kiss me.” You blurt out, realizing you’ve been staring for far too long.

Gaz stares down at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Just that? Here I thought you were gonna say something impossible like world domination.”

“Well, if you’re offering...” You shrug.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Probably shouldn’t be making those jokes.” He leans down closer. “Though, if you asked nicely...”

You let out a quiet sound as his lips press against yours. They’re just as soft as they look, pressing against yours so gently and softly. Your arms lift to his shoulders, curling into the fabric of his shirt. He coaxes your lips to move with his, copying his movements as he tilts his head slightly.

Warmth blooms beneath your skin as he kisses you, your head spinning. His scent invades your nose, seeping into your very being. You want to curl up in it, let it surround you like a warm blanket. You catch the whiff of something deeper, the scent of damp earth. Price. You have a sudden urge to pull his shirt collar to the side, to stare at the mark that decorates his scent gland at the base of his throat, a mirror of the one you’ll carry in a few short weeks.

“Ye didnae tell me ye were startin’ a cuddle pile!”

An excited voice causes you both to separate, Gaz barely managing to lift himself up enough so that you don’t get squished when Soap practically jumps on his back.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Gaz grunts. “Tryna squish our poor omega?”

The weight above you shifts before Soap’s head appears over Gaz’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “Mornin’ hen!”

“For someone so small, you weigh a ton.” Gaz says with a strain to his voice as sweat breaks out across his forehead from keeping his weight and Soap's off of you.

“I'm no that small.” Soap says, an offended tone to his voice as he goes limp on top of Gaz.

You can't help but giggle at their antics, especially as Gaz pushes himself up to a kneeling position, nearly sending Soap rolling to the floor. Your face is warm from your giggling as they both stand, playfully pushing each other.

“Alright, enough you two.” Price's voice cuts through their playful arguing, amusement shining in his eyes as he leans on the doorframe. “Almost time for breakfast.”

“Come on.” Gaz says, taking your hands and helping you up. “Let's get some pancakes in you before you turn into one.”

“You should try courting her.” Kyle says, scrolling through his phone as he lounges on John's bed. “Like old-fashioned courting.”

“What are you on about?” John grumbles, drying his face with a towel.

“Our little omega. You should try courting her.” Kyle repeats, looking over his phone at John.

John tosses his towel into his hamper before approaching the bed. Kyle lets his eyes rake over his form, his strong arms and soft stomach, thick, strong thighs and the prominent bulge at the front of his briefs.

“It would be worth a try.” Kyle continues, letting John pull the phone from his hands. “Omegas love that shit.”

“And what prompted this thought?” John asks, laying down on his side next to Kyle, pulling the younger man closer.

“She's getting all worked up by us now.” He says, biting back a groan as John trails a hand over his side. “She's kissed Soap and I so far. Got all worked up when I teased her about showering together this morning.” His hand trails through John's short hair as John licks at his throat. “I think she'd enjoy a little attention from her alpha.”

“What do you have in mind?” John murmurs before sinking his teeth into the soft skin of Kyle's throat.

Kyle shrugs, letting out a gasp as John bites at his throat. “Take her out for dinner? Buy her some things for her room? Give in to those alpha cravings a bit.”

John lets out a low growl, pinning Kyle on the bed beneath him. Kyle's lips lift in a smirk, fingers lifting to run through John's beard. His thumb drags across John's lower lip, gaze soft as he stares up at the alpha.

“You won't ruin anything by doing it. There's only so much time until her heat. If I were an alpha, I'd want her to be as comfortable as possible before then. Makes the shift into bonded pack life much easier.” Kyle says.

John leans down until their noses brush, groaning softly as Kyle digs his fingers into his shoulders. He knows Kyle is right. He should make an effort with you, at least try to ensure you're as comfortable around him as possible before he claims you. Most alphas wouldn't have waited for the first heat, wouldn't have even waited a week before claiming, before taking their omega to bed. He doesn't want to be like those alphas. He doesn't want to force you into more than you already have been, more than you will be.

He wants things to happen as naturally as possible, but that doesn't mean he can't try.

Kyle leans up, closing the distance between them and kissing him. He presses his beta back into the mattress, nipping harshly at his lips. Their tongues tangle together, tasting like peppermint toothpaste and something distinctly alpha and beta.

John presses his body closer to Kyle's groaning as his half hard cock drags against Kyle's. Kyle moans into his mouth as John begins grinding against him. Their bodies move together, a familiar dance they've both memorized the steps to.

John groans as Kyle's fingers trail down his back, blunt nails biting into the skin. Breathy moans slip from kiss-bruised plump lips as John kisses down Kyle's throat. Calloused fingers slip under the waistband of John's briefs, teasing the soft supple skin beneath. John grinds down against him harder, dragging his leaking cock against Kyle's twitching one.

“Fuck, Cap.” Kyle groans, bucking up against his alpha. “Lemme feel you.”

John wraps his arms around Kyle, flipping them over so he's on top. Kyle makes quick work of his boxers, tugging John's briefs down roughly. He groans, licking his lips at the sight of his alpha's leaking cock.

“Like what you see, pup?” John asks, lips lifting in a smirk.

“Fuck yes.” Kyle breathes, settling himself on John's thighs.

He leans down, wrapping a hand around both his and John's cocks. John groans as Kyle begins stroking them both, his cock twitching as more precum slips from his tip. He's close, the pent up frustrations from the last couple days along with the tantalizing scent of omega driving him to near insanity.

He feels like he might pop a knot as Kyle picks up the pace, one hand braced against his chest, his hips rocking in short thrusts. His head falls back as his orgasm slams into him, hit cum spurting across his stomach. Kyle groans loudly, frantically pumping his own cock as he reaches his peak, spurting his spend across his alpha's stomach too.

“Made quite the mess, Sergeant.” John says, trailing his fingers through the mix of cum on his stomach.

“Would you like me to clean it up, sir?” Kyle smirks, opening his mouth to allow John's fingers to push in.

His tongue swirls around his thick fingers, lapping them clean. Kyle shifts on top of him, bending down and trailing his tongue across John's stomach, licking up their mess.

“Good boy.” John hums, gently cradling the back of Kyle's neck.

The sky is dark as you make your way from your room. Gaz and Price are nowhere to be found, your cheeks warming at the thought of where they could be and what they could be up to. You take a breath to steady yourself, and your scent, before you head into the rec room. Soap and Ghost are there, Soap on the opposite end of the couch as usual, and Ghost in the chair next to the couch that faces the door.

He sees you first, his shoulders squaring just a bit. Soap turns to the doorway, a typical grin splitting his face when he sees you. It’s been a while since you’ve seen anyone be happy to see you, and you can’t deny that Soap’s joy is a bit contagious. He’s like an excited puppy. You can imagine if he had a tail, it would be wagging non-stop.

“Come tae join us, hen?” He asks, holding out a hand.

Ghost’s eyes are sharp as they stare at you, the silent warning not lost. You’re infringing on their space, infringing on his protective circle around his beta. You’re pushing a boundary and that could be dangerous.

It could be.

You move forward, taking Soap’s hand, letting him tug you down next to him on the couch. You ignore the eyes burning into you, boring holes into your skin as you settle in as close to Soap as you can. You almost smile in victory as Soap drapes his arm across the back of the couch, your attention turning to whatever is playing on the TV.

Ghost and Soap continue their conversation, Soap's fingers brushing your arm every so often. You can feel every time Ghost's burning gaze turns to you, every time he glowers at you for being so close to his beta. You can't help but wonder what's going through his mind, what he's thinking, what he's imagining.

You'll pay for this later.

You can only imagine how he'll punish you in your training for boldly breaching such an obvious boundary.

Soap doesn't seem to notice, or perhaps he simply doesn't care. It's not like you're not allowed to be close to Soap. As a member of your new pack, he had every right to pursue a bond with you if he wanted, regardless of how Ghost felt. Even though they're bonded, Soap is still his own person.

It's almost ironic.

You're starting to feel the exhaustion of your early morning as the night drags on, your head getting heavier and heavier. Ghost's need to glower at you has lessened a bit, his eyes only on you whenever you shift or move. Your head has drooped onto Soap's shoulder, an idea forming in your mind. You're sure it's the exhaustion making you so bold, or perhaps your new belief that the only way you'll even stand a chance at getting through to Ghost is to push those boundaries and stand up to him.

You lift your head, shifting your body until you're laying on the couch, resting your head on Soap's thigh. You watch Ghost's hands curl into fists where they rest on his lap, his eyes burning through your head as you make yourself comfortable. Soap's hand sinks into your hair, massaging your scalp as you lay there, your lips curling into a content smile.

You know it has to be eating at him just a little. A content beta and a preening omega, an image of what he could have if he simply got over whatever is keeping him from accepting you.

“Tired, lass?” Soap's gentle voice pulls you from your thoughts. Your mind had started to doze a bit, trailing off with your thoughts.

You make a quiet noise in agreement, nuzzling against his thigh.

“Let's get ye tae bed.” He says, squeezing your arm.

You're not expecting Ghost to follow as Soap leads you from the rec room, your fingers entwined with his. Even in your tired state you can feel the icy stare at your back, the looming presence of the alpha behind you as Soap walks you to your door.

“Night, hen.” Soap murmurs softly.

You're sure it's the exhaustion making you delirious as you stand on your toes, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. Soap hums against your lips, bending down to follow you as you go to pull away. You ignore the tickling at the back of your neck as he presses another kiss to your lips, your hand reaching for your doorknob and the security of your room.

“Night, Soap.” You murmur, slipping into your room before Ghost makes a rash decision.

You're going to regret it later, but you certainly don't at this moment.

The fabric isn’t as soft as it used to be. It’s been worn too much, washed too many times. You’ve stitched the ripped seam back together, a bit sloppy but you can hardly tell thanks to the luck of finding thread the same color as the sweatshirt. You hold it in your hands, staring at the frayed edges, the loose strings. Well loved, some might call it. Garbage, others might think.

“Finally fixing the holes?”

The voice cutting through the silence makes you jump, your head whipping around to the door. Price is standing there, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to startle you.” He says.

“It’s alright, sir.” You say, calming your racing heart. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I thought you were all at training.”

“I had a call I had to take.” He says, entering the room now that you’ve calmed. “Was heading back out when I caught a whiff of your scent.” He lowers himself onto the couch with a quiet groan, staring softly at you.

“I know it’s stupid, holding onto it when I could just ask for a new one.” You say, staring down at the sweatshirt in your hands.

“But it’s more than just a sweatshirt.” He says, tone soft and understanding.

You sink your teeth into your lip, fingers curling into the fabric in your hands. “One of the omegas at the institute gave it to me.” You say, holding the sweatshirt to your chest. “We were the same age so we were grouped together a lot and we got really close. She gave it to me when we reached selection age, since we both knew we were likely to get chosen fast and she wanted to give me something to remember her by. It’s a good thing she did too, because she did get chosen almost immediately.” You let out a quiet laugh, blinking back tears. “I’ve held on to it ever since. It doesn't even smell like her anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.”

Price is quiet for a few moments, his eyes on your face. You can’t look at him, your gaze on the sweatshirt in your lap. “You loved her.” He finally says, his tone not accusing or even disgusted.

It’s understanding. Knowing.

You take a shaky breath, hands closing into nervous fists around the sweatshirt. “Institutes try everything they can to prevent omegas from bonding with each other. Makes it too hard to separate us once we come of age. Alphas don’t want a distressed, unhappy omega, they’re expecting an eager, willing addition to their pack. It’s hard though, when you spend literal years together experiencing the same thing to not form bonds with each other.”

Price huffs quietly. “My grandfather used to tell me about the traditional pack boom after World War 2. When militaries across the world began to forbid bonding and pack formation within ranks. They were spending more time and money on preventing it from happening than anything else. It didn’t take them long to realize it was easier to allow the organic bonds to form. It made soldiers stronger, gave them purpose. It’s easier to look away than to fight what nature intends sometimes.” He smiles at you, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. “We are the last people that will judge you for it.”

You know that. You've known that from the start. The way their scents mingle, their bonds. They're a bonded pack for a reason.

“She never knew. Or, I never told her. I don't know where she ended up or where she is now.” You shrug, letting out a sardonic huff. “It's a lonely existence sometimes, being an omega.”

“I can only imagine.” Price says, giving you a sad smile.

“I suppose I should just get rid of it.” You say, staring at the sweatshirt. “No use holding onto something that could have never been.”

Price squeezes your shoulder gently. “Wait here.”

He gets up, leaving you alone in the rec room. You wait patiently for him to return, growing a bit nervous. What was he doing? Was he telling someone about your confession? Was he going to send you back because of it? You know your worries are unwarranted, but you can't stop them.

He returns a few moments later, a sweatshirt in his hands. “Here.” He says, holding it out to you. “They're standard issue, but I've never been one for sweatshirts. It's just been sitting in my closet.”

You take the sweatshirt, soft and new in your hands. It hardly smells like him, only the light residual scent from being in his room. “Thank you, sir.” You say, rubbing the fabric against your cheek.

He nods at your old sweatshirt. “This way you can save that one, and start picking this one apart.”

Your face warms at his cheeky comment, your head turning down bashfully. “It means a lot, sir. Really.”

“You'll get better use of it than I did.” He glances at his watch. “I best be getting back to the boys. We'll be back before dinner.”

“Wait-” You get up before he can leave, slowly approaching him with the sweatshirt in hand. Your face is burning as he stares down at you, eyebrows raised in waiting. “Will you...scent it?” You hold the sweatshirt out to him.

He looks surprised for a moment before he takes the fabric, rubbing his face and neck against it. He coats the sweatshirt in his scent, the smell of trees and petrichor filling your nose as you watch him. The back of your neck begins to prickle, the desire to roll in his scent getting stronger.

“Thank you, sir.” You say as he hands the sweatshirt back to you. “I'd...I'd also like to kneel again tonight, if that's alright.”

He smiles softly down at you. “Of course. I'll come and get you when I'm ready.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your head before he takes his leave.

You pull on Price's sweatshirt, burying your nose in his scent for a moment. A smile pulls at your lips as you grab your old sweatshirt, making for your room.

You can't wait for tonight.

Taglist:

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod #cod fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics

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dudeitiskarev · 27 days

Text

I Want to Hold Your Hand | Aaron Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x bau female reader

Summary: Hotch sends you home and you almost die, which only makes him realize how much he truly loves you.

Word count: 2.4k.

Tags/warnings: hurt/little comfort; season 1 Hotch my beloved <3; canon typical violence; Haley and Jack don’t exist in this universe oopsies; angst with happy ending; Hotch is a baby; probably very inaccurate medical talk bc all I know is from Grey’s; not beta read + English isn’t my first language so good luck with that.

Author’s note: remember when I said I was probably done writing for a Hotch? Turns out all I had to do was stop taking my antidepressant 🙄 anyway, don’t get your hopes high. I just needed to take a break from my never-ending Spence fic so I wrote this. Which is basically a rewrite of what happened with Elle. I just wanted to make Hotch suffer a little so I hope you like it!

MASTERLIST

A few hours ago, Aaron kissed the top of your head and sent you back to the hotel with a police officer.

Now, he was in a hospital waiting room with his heart in his throat, hoping the doctor would show up with good news.

You’d been attacked in your hotel room, and it was his fault.

“They’re gonna set up a bed for you in her room.” Jason walked in with a cup of coffee for Aaron. His fourth one already.

“She’s… not out of surgery yet,” Aaron shut his eyes. “We don’t know if —”

“The hospital chief, I know him.” Gideon sort of smiled. “I asked him if he could go check on her. All I know is that they’re closing her up now.”

The words began to sound far and faded as if Aaron was underwater. His vision blurred and his legs would’ve given up if he wasn’t sitting down already.

It was his soul returning to his body.

He didn’t want to get his hopes high, though. If they were closing you up it meant you were alive, but nothing else. There could be a hundred things wrong with you while being alive.

All he could do was nod and put his hands together over his lips like a prayer.

You were alive.

“The doctor should be here with the updates any minute now.” Jason sat next to Aaron and gave him a gentle tap on his back.

Gideon knew. Even when Hotch hadn’t told anyone about his feelings—not even you—he spent most of his day with profilers so of course the best one in his team knew about it.

“I’m heading back to the hotel soon,” Gideon continued. “See what the hell happened. Why… How did they let the unsub enter her room. Garcia should be landing soon. We need to check every security camera.” He smacked his tongue in disappointment and shook his head.

Aaron rose from his seat and tried his best to at least let his shoulders relax but every bit of him had turned into concrete.

“Where are Reid and Morgan?” He asked, pacing back and forth and stretching his neck from one side to the other. Even in moments like this, he needed to know where the rest of his people were. Especially in moments like this.

“Back at the local PD,” Gideon answered.

“JJ?”

“She’s talking to the hotel manager, making sure none of the employees makes any declaration to the press before we catch the guy.”

Aaron nodded, and soon, the doctor walked into the room with the updates.

“Surgery was a success,” he began. “We managed to repair all the damage and save her lung. Now, she flatlined once in the ambulance and then again during surgery so her brain has been through a lot.”

It wasn’t the time to profile anyone, but the way the doctor couldn’t keep eye contact for longer than two seconds told Aaron he was aiming at something more serious.

“Just tell us.” Aaron rubbed his thumb with his fingers.

“She’s not breathing on her own yet and according to her EEG, her last exam, her brain is swollen. It may take her a while to wake up.” The doctor gulped. “If she wakes up.”

Aaron’s entire world crumbled once again. He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked to a corner to pull himself together.

This was his fault. You might never wake up and it was his fault.

“When can we see her?” Gideon asked for him.

“You can see her now but… you need to be prepared. A machine is breathing for her. There’s a tube down her throat and it might be a lot to look at.”

Just picturing you like that turned his stomach upside down.

God, if you don’t ever wake up—

“She’s gonna wake up.” Penelope’s voice entered the room and so did the light she carried everywhere.

She was one of Aaron’s comfort people. If Penelope was there, there was hope.

“Garcia,” Jason said in a don’t tone.

“She’s strong.” Penelope walked up to Hotch anyway. “And people wake up from comas. Miracles happen and—” Her eyes filled with tears once she touched Hotch’s arm to get his attention. “She needs us, she needs you. And we need her.”

Garcia also knew, apparently. And if she knew without being a profiler, everyone else knew.

“I found this.” She handed Hotch a Polaroid picture of you. You were leaning on Garcia’s desk, your arms folded over your chest and with your sweet, sweet smile. There was the hope. “I took it a while ago and kept it on my desk along with the others but…”

Aaron took it with a shaky hand. You were mesmerizing.

“García,” Gideon insisted.

A nurse interrupted to let them know they could see you now.

“You go,” Gideon said to Hotch, taking a step back. “Just call me if anything changes. Garcia, you’re coming with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Penelope gave Hotch one last hopeful smile before following Jason out.

Aaron looked at your photo again and took deep breaths to gather himself as walked to the endless hall that took him to you.

“We’ll set up your bed in a few.” The nurse smiled at him, gesturing for him to go in. “She looks good. It might not look like it because of all the machines but she’s doing good. She’s a strong woman.”

Aaron said a quiet thanks before the nurse left.

It was just you and him.

The steady beeping of the machine brought him a sense of comfort—it meant you were alive—yet his feet were hesitant to take him next to you. He stood at the door for a moment, watching you from afar.

As the doctor had said, it was a lot to look at. It reminded him of the last time he saw someone close to him like this: his father. The difference was that back then, he couldn’t wait for his dad to die.

Today, he’d found himself praying multiple times to a god he wasn’t even sure existed most times.

He dared to move and when he reached your side, he almost crumbled. You had a few bruises on your left cheek, your knuckles were split—you even had a broken finger, and you looked beautiful as ever. He wished he could see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, catch you smiling at him.

Guilt brewed at the pit of his stomach again. He should’ve gone with you. He should’ve been with you.

He lifted one hand to stroke your head and tears welled up as soon as his skin touched yours. His chin quivered and he sniffled quietly as tears threatened to spill. He used the heel of his hands to dry them away. He couldn’t cry, even if you were in a coma and couldn’t see him like this—broken. You believed people’s energy had effects on others, and you needed him to be strong. He needed to be more like you.

His bed was set soon after, right next to you. His eyes were heavy, and his muscles were sore. Even then, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down. He was scared to close his eyes. What if you died while he was asleep? He stayed sitting down, holding your hand and never losing sight of you.

“It’s raining,” he said out loud, talking to you. “Every time it rains I think of you.”

He smiled at the memories. You’d shown up at his office for your interview drenching, and he was smitten from the very first moment he laid eyes on you.

“Agent Hotchner,” your perky voice caught him off guard. No one inside the BAU building was perky—besides Garcia.

You stood by the door, both hands behind your back waiting for his signal to come in.

“Please.” He gestured with his hand to the seat across from him.

He took half a second to study you quickly. Raindrops were gathered over the shoulders of your blazer and your mascara was a bit smudged under your eyes.

“Forgot your coat, agent?” He commented, peeling his eyes off you and reading through your resume.

“Didn’t think I’d be raining by the time I arrived, sir. I don’t keep an umbrella in my car either. I apologize for my… appearance.”

It wasn’t your appearance that got you on his team, it was your outstanding resume. It made him wonder why you chose to apply to the Behavioral Analysis Unit instead of staying at ViCAP. Your performance there was impeccable.

“I wasn’t feeling comfortable there anymore,” was your answer. “And I want to seek other paths, sir. And I know I’m a good fit for your team.”

You started the very next day, and he partnered up with you to keep an eye on you during your first cases. You were a quick thinker, were fast on your feet, and stayed calm under critical situations.

Not once he felt at a disadvantage in the field for working with the new kid, which only showed him how good you naturally were. He was drawn to you and it wasn’t just because of your professionalism.

It was your fast food order. It was the first joke you ever made that only made him laugh. It was your perfume, the way you spoke with your hands, and how you raised your brows when making a point.

Everything about you made him take a deep breath. You made him dizzy. Lightheaded. Drunk.

Exactly how he felt right now while holding your hand, except that now, the room was spinning at the mere thought of losing you.

“I love you,” he murmured, bringing your hand up to his lips and kissing your bruised knuckles with shaky lips. “I love you.”

He’d never said it before. He didn’t know he did until now.

“God, I love you so much. From the moment I saw you, you lit up my life. You made it better, made me better.” He kept talking to you, hoping that his voice would heal everything inside you. “I can’t lose you. I won’t make it.”

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

The rain stopped, the hours passed, and the sun never came out.

It’d been two weeks and he’d already made the habit of reading you at night.

“Studies have shown that playing music they really like and talking to the person in a coma increases their chances of waking up,” Spencer had said the day the entire team came to visit you.

Most nights he read case files. Others, he liked to read poetry.

You still hadn’t woken up, but the music, the poetry, and the flowers didn’t stop.

“I hope you don’t mind if I read something by Neruda,” Aaron said as he sat on the chair next to you. “Maybe not Neruda.”

It was one of those nights where hope had watered down with his tears.

He put the book down next to you and held your hand. He hadn’t stopped holding your hand; he hadn’t stopped kissing it either. He sighed deeply and stood up to draw the blinds, turning his back to you.

A loud smack against the floor startled him, making him turn around. The book he’d left next to you had fallen. He didn’t think he’d left it at the edge of the bed, but he picked it up without much curious and went to put it where it was.

Your hand twitched when he grazed your knuckles casually.

Then it twitched again—harsher—and a soft whimper came from your chest. That sound definitely came out of your body.

Aaron was quick to check on you, towering over you and watching you closely. Your eyelids started to move and the next thing he knew, he was making eye contact with you.

Those beautiful twinkling eyes took his breath away.

“We need a doctor in here!” He was quick to react, pressing the call button.

Nurses stormed inside and moved him out of the way to assist you.

“She’s awake. She’s fighting the tube,” was all he heard before a thousand tingles rushed through him.

You were awake.

Your doctor arrived soon after to examine you and Aaron stood there as they took the tube out.

You coughed and writhed with discomfort.

“Can you tell me your name?” Your doctor moved a small flashlight in front of your eyes.

You blinked a few times and searched around the room. Your eyes landed on Aaron. “Hotch?”

Your soft voice traveled to him and enveloped his heart, mending every bit that was broken.

“Hi,” he merely said.

You shook your head and said your name instead. Your doctor asked some more questions like your birthday, where you worked at and what was the last thing you remembered, and the entire time your eyes were trained on Aaron.

“It’s vague.” You took a sharp breath. “I think I was attacked but I don’t know how. I can assume by this unglued scar, though.” You put your palm on your chest.

“We’re still going to do some tests,” Your doctor said. “But you’re great. Pupils are responsive, your lungs sound healthy and there are no signs of brain damage. No memory loss. No speech loss either.”

“How soon can she go home?” Aaron asked, taking another step closer. He finally stood by your side, and you reached for his hand.

This was you. Sweet and caring even at your worst.

“I’d like to keep her under observation for a couple of days, then she can go. But just so you know, you can’t fly for at least two weeks after open-chest surgery.”

The doctor gave you some other indications before leaving, then it was just the two of you as it’d been for the past two weeks. Though now he got to see the twinkle of your eyes, hear your voice, and catch you smiling at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, tilting your head to the side like a puppy.

“I sent you away and—“ he raised his brows.

“Don’t.” You squeezed his hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t… blame yourself.”

“I should’ve come with you. I should’ve— god, you almost died. You almost died,” he repeated in a whisper, shutting his eyes with pain.

The guilt was still there.

“But I didn’t.”

“I was so scared,” he admitted, daring to look back at you.

“I… don’t remember much. Just bits and pieces but I do remember that I wasn’t scared. I think. I… channeled you at that moment.” You laughed. “I remember thinking, Hotch wouldn’t be scared, he would put up a fight, so I did. I fought the guy, which got me almost killed but I wasn’t scared.” You lifted your hand and cradled his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “You have a beard.”

He chuckled. “Barely.”

“It looks good. I like it.”

He didn’t like it much, but he was grateful it was there so you wouldn’t see how hard he was blushing. He poured you some water and handed it you to distract himself from it.

“Where are we?” You then asked, taking a sip from the straw.

“Seattle.” Aaron raised his brows while licking his lips.

Last time you two were in Seattle, you’d kissed for the first time.

“Oh,” you mirrored his smirk. “So that’s gonna be like a three-day road trip back to Quantico?”

“It’s either that or two more weeks in Seattle until you can fly there,” he responded.

“Both sound amazing, don’t you think?” you scanned his face up and down and heat rushed to his cheeks again. “Thank you for staying with me, Aaron.”

I love you, he thought.

“How could I not?” he said instead.

Never said there would be a love confession now did I 🤭 But don’t worry, hotch confesses his love during the road trip <33333 also the title is a The Beatles song bc he played The Beatles a lot while reader was in a coma. And bc he held her hand a lot.

I hope you liked it!!!!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner x female reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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st4rymoon · 11 months

Text

𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦

˚ ༘ *⭐︎ Miguel x afab reader

Warnings - 18+. smut. Some Angst. Enemy’s to lovers, sex with a plot, unprotected sex, breeding kink, breath play, arguing, both get physical (get in a fight but nothing too serious), other variants mentioned and Dr. Strange (why not bring him up), after care, teasing, possessive Miguel, biting, messy sex, semi-mean Miguel, pet names (doll, muñeca, princesa, chula), Spanish (translations added)

[pt.2 is out! → better than me pt. 2]

Miguel was obnoxious and self-absorbed, you knew that by now.

You were living your life as the Spider-Woman of your universe with no worries at all until a blonde-haired ghost-looking spider appeared.

You had somewhat of an idea of what she was talking about, after all, you had a Dr. Strange in your universe and he would never stop talking about the multi-verse.

He never mentioned that these variants would come looking for each other but hey, what did you know?

The blonde-haired girl begged for you to meet the others, calming you weren’t alone and had a group of others to bond with. But you had no problem being alone with such powers, matter of fact you enjoyed it.

There was no one to boss you around or scold you which was always a plus as a superhero. That carefree life you had turned sour as you agreed with the blonde-haired girl and went to meet the others.

“By the way my boss, OUR boss doesn’t know you exist… he’s practically found every spider in the universe. But I guess he forgot one, and by the way, I’m Gwen”

You smiled “Well Gwen, YOUR boss will be pleased to hear that it’s almost impossible to find every Spider-Man. There are millions of universes” you shrugged.

Gwen was taken aback by your words, she wasn’t aware you knew about these universes since a majority of the others didn’t. “How do you know?” She questioned with her arms crossed.

“Do you not have a Dr. Strange in your universe? A tall annoying brown-haired man? Middle-aged? No sense of humor? Come one you don’t have one!?” You gasped.

“Never heard of a strange before”

Both of you walked into a giant laboratory-like room, you heard chatter all around you as you looked above and saw dozens of spider variants on the ceilings and walls.

“GWEN! Gwen! May has been getting into trouble have you see- who are you?” A tired-looking brown-haired man looked at you in confusion. “I’m a rouge-killing monster called Spider-Man” you replied.

Both of their faces turned pale at your words “Gosh you guys have no sense of humor! I’m joking” you sigh. “Im a spider variant like all of you, now why’d you drag me here”

“Miguel isn’t going to like this… I’m Peter” the brown-haired man smiled. “And I presume Miguel is the big scary boss man right?”

“Thank you for the kind words” a loud voice boomed from behind. “Miguel! I found another!” Gwen smiles awkwardly.

“Mmh”

You turned to see an attractive middle-aged man with glowing red eyes “She knows about the multi-verse she was talking about some dude called Strange” Gwen nodded.

Miguel tensed at her words, his eyes glued to you as he made his way towards you. “What do you know about strange?” He hummed, circling you like his prey.

“Nothing that’s your business that’s for sure” you chuckle “Well I had fun, I’ll be heading out now” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m talking to you” Miguel yells “No your yelling, have a nice day” you wave as you shoot a web out and swing. Halfway through the swing, your web was cut, causing you to drop to the ground “WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell.

Miguel stood tall with a cocky smile on his face “We aren’t done talking” he shakes his head.

You knew very little about Dr. Strange, sure you’re well acquainted with the universally famous sorcerer but he was a private man. He called you when he needed help and that was it.

To your disbelief, you had no clue other spiders could be so damn annoying. “Well I am, I’m not going to say it again. I AM LEAVING.” You yell.

“She’s just like him” you hear a spider whisper “I AM NOT” you point a finger up at one of them “How could you hear that” they muttered. “Don’t you all have great hearing?”

“Not all of us” Peter shrugged. “What did they say?” Gwen asked. You ignored everyone and walked out of the room. Already halfway through the door, you felt a hand grip your arm.

Turning, you see Miguel’s ruby eyes staring at you. “I suggest you let go of me” you say calmly. It was a shame he was an ass, he was too good-looking to be acting the way he was.

“Threats don’t work on m-“You cut him off mid-sentence, kicking his ankle and making him fall back. You pinned him onto the ground, your leg on his chest and heel pressed onto his chin.

The look in his eyes was a mix of anger and shock.

The other spiders started yelling, Gwen yelling at Peter to stop this and during the chaos for some odd reason you saw a talking spider cat yelling “A cat?” You chuckled causing you to lose focus.

Within seconds you were now in Miguel’s position. His hand on your throat as he pressed his weight onto you “CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” He seethes.

Just as you were about to kick him where it hurts, his hand held your knee in place “Have to be quicker than that muñeca” he whispered into your ear. [t: doll]

Your eyes widened at the pet name. You swear you could feel your cheeks burn red and telling by the smile on his face you knew they were. “This is fun but can we have a normal conversation? Like civilized people?” He replied.

He got off you, holding a hand out for you to stand. You got up on your own, pushing past him as you heard a few whistles and ‘Miguel is flushed look at him’ from behind you.

“Fine. You have 5 minutes”

Miguel led you to his office, one hand on your lower back leading you. “Brave for a newcomer” the annoyingly attractive man smiled down at you “It’s obvious no one stands up to you, I’ll happily be the one to do so” you cooed.

“Sit” he commands while pointing at the chair in front of his desk. You nod and sit patiently for him to start “What do you know about Dr. Strange?” He questioned.

“He’s Dr. Strange what is there to know? He’s a private man for god sake. You surely have one in this universe, don’t you? He’s usually in every universe” you sighed.

“He’s never been in any I’ve visited”

“Or maybe you didn’t look well enough” you chuckle. “I have one in my universe and trust me you aren’t missing out. He only calls when he needs a helping hand and that’s about it” you shrugged.

“How do you know about the multi-verses?” He questioned. “Strange explained to me the importance of leaving it alone, we’ve seen universes almost disappear due to it. People have to learn you cannot change the past, present, or future without losing something so it’s best to just deal with it. In another universe, another life we are happy just think of that”

Miguel clears his throat at your words “Let me guess you lost something as well? By messing with this fucked up world? Who was it? A wife, mother, father, daughter?”

His hands slammed onto the desk in anger “NOT YOUR BUSINESS.” He seethed while he threw his papers on the ground. You knew he was hurting, That’s why he was acting like this.

“You know, I can tell this whole I’m mean and bad act is because your hurt. It’s not healthy to live in the past, we will just rot ourselves from within Miguel. Whatever you lost trust me you have it in another universe” You smile as you stand up, patting him on the shoulder as he doesn’t move a muscle.

“You don’t understand” he growled. “Trust me I do. Why do you think I’m friends with strange huh? I lost someone too you know. But instead of making everyone suffer with me, I decided to tr-“ you couldn’t finished your sentence before his lips crashed onto yours.

You were taken aback by the kiss but couldn’t help but moan into it. You pushed him back slightly “I don’t even know you Miguel” you smiled onto his lips “I know we can change that” he hummed as he lifted you onto his desk.

You were taken back by his actions, was a conversation all he needed to get this riled up?

“You know, out of all the spiders, no one’s said anything like that to me? Not one of them genuinely has a conversation with me” he sighs while pulling back. “Well, you don’t exactly let them say a word without screaming” you chuckle.

“That’s because they all pull away once I raise my voice. It was a surprise when a pretty thing like you came in acting like you own the place” Miguel cooed, his hands trailing up your hips as he pressed himself onto you.

“And I can tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while, you really gonna fuck a girl you just met huh?” You teased. “And are you really going to fuck a man you just met?”

“Maybe, If he can make me want it that bad” you winked, your hands ran down his chest, the spandex-like material of his suit outlining his chest and muscles in the most perfect way.

He chuckled at your response and wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting you before sitting down on his chair. You straddled him as he rocked onto you softly.

You’ve never done anything like this before, you were shocked by your compliance with his actions but you couldn’t help it. You told yourself everyone needed a one-time thing right?

“You sound so fucking pretty” he mumbled onto your neck, your soft sounds making him lose every bit of patience while you tangled your fingers into his hair.

You could tell he was wondering how to remove your suit, you were trying to hide your laugh but it came out either way.

“What’s so funny huh?”

“If you want to remove my suit you press this” You smiled as you grabbed his hand and lifted it behind your neck. His hand instinctively started massaging the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss.

Completely off task with what you were showing him; each of you lost in the other's taste. “Ok, so how do I remove it?” He panted “Like this” You guided him as his fingers went on the hem of your neckline.

You pressed a button from the inside of your suit with his fingers “Like that” you whispered into his ear as you licked his cheek before kissing him.

Your suit was in his hands in a matter of seconds, tossing it somewhere behind him as his eyes admired your curves.

“Can’t believe I missed you out of all of the others” Miguel groaned. His hands not missing an inch of your body as you could feel his painfully hard bulge through his suit. “Take it off” you whined say you tugged at his. He chuckled at your neediness, and complying he tossed it along with yours.

You couldn’t believe other spiders like him existed. You’ve met a few but never ones that were this irritating and gorgeous, to say the least. “Like what you see princesa?” He mocked. [t: princess]

You rolled your eyes and pressed yourself onto him “I do”, you could feel his cock pressing onto your panties. His breathing was ragged and uneven as you nuzzled into his neck.

Sucking and kissing purple bruises onto his neck, your hands tangling into his hair. You felt his fingers tugging at your panties as a way to tell you to lift yourself a bit.

You did as told and let him toss your panties onto the pile of mess on the ground. “Although I love this pretty lace, it has to come off” he pouts as he pulls at your bra “Who knew you’d have this under the suit” he mumbled as he tossed your bra.

“Off” you demand as you tug at his boxers, he smiles in surprise as he sees you so needy “Alguien esta ansiosa”. “Oh shut up” you hiss as he leans onto the chair and brings your hands to his waistband. [t: someone is eager]

“If you want it so bad, take them off yourself” he cockily smiles. Your eyes narrow in annoyance but you were too needy to argue about it. Still on top of him, you tug his boxers down.

You clenched around nothing as his cock hit his stomach. You thought the whisper you let you wasn’t audible but your eyes shot up to his as he watches you with his hands behind his head.

“Love it that much already?”

You don’t bother responding as you go back to kissing him. His hands were back to their previous position, holding you tightly as you felt him rubbing between your folds.

“Shit..” you seethed. You felt his teeth sink into your skin, a loud moan coming from you causing you to slap your hands onto your mouth.

Miguel’s eyes shot up at your actions, his hands pulling them away as he pinned them onto your stomach “I don’t care who hears, hands on my shoulders”

As he ends his sentence he slams into you, your eyes rolling back while a shaky moan leaves you. He holds you onto him for a few seconds, taking in your soaked gummy walls before thrusting into you.

You could hear the wet pornographic sounds coming from the both of you as he fucked into you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he wrapped one arm around your waist the other hugging you onto him.

“Love it so much doll, fu- fuck you feel so good”

It was much more intimate than you thought it would be, the way he never broke eye contact even when you squeezed your eyes shut and muttered incoherent sentences into his chest he watched you intensely.

Miguel wondered if this would go anywhere, he hoped it did. He had no reason why he acted on his needs so quickly with you, he hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time and had no problem with it, but the moment he saw you sitting in his office it was like a switch flipped.

“Look at the mess you make muñeca, shit. This pussy was made for me” he huffed. You couldn’t even say a word, the way he felt slamming into you was euphoric.

You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he curved perfectly in you with each of his thrusts was intoxicating.

You were making a mess, you could feel the cum dripping down your thighs as you bounced on him. “Migu- fuck all for you, only you” you whined. The words spilling from you caused him to fuck you deeper “Nadie más te va ver como te miras orita, eres mía muñeca. Solo para mi” [t: nobody else is going to see you the way you look right now, you’re mine doll. Only for me]

His tone was adoring, he loved seeing the way you clawed at his chest whenever he picked up his pace. Miguel couldn’t help but wrap a hand around your throat when you started to slump on him; lifting you he held you to his lips as he squeezed your throat.

“Feels good huh baby? Your eyes say it all” he groans onto your cheek, his hand still squeezing your neck. You can feel your vision getting hazy, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he smiled up at you.

He let go of your neck, a loud pant leaving you as you caught your breath. But before you could even think your mouth pressed onto his, you couldn’t help but kiss his saliva-covered lips.

His pornographic moans made you dizzy, his fingers piercing your hips as he fucked you senseless while you looked down at him with needy eyes.

You could feel the knot form inside your stomach as his pace picked up, each of his thrusts causing a shaky whimper to leave you as he watched you getting closer.

“O- oh- Migu- M-“ you were crying out words as the feeling of his cock slamming into you and the slight rubbing on your clit from his pubic bone was driving you to the edge.

“I know baby I know, let it out princesa. Gonna fill you full so they all know what happened in here” he chuckled. With that you let go, the thought of his cum spilling out of you made you drunk on him. [t: princess]

You were loud but he didn’t care to quiet you down, he loved hearing how good he was fucking you. “No one’s going to fuck you better than me, I just met you and you look like you’ve been doing this for a while” he cooed.

“You’ve fucked other guys like this huh? The first day you meet them you fuck them?” He questioned. You shook your head weakly, his cock still ramming into you as he watched you bounce along with his thrust.

“No? Don’t lie how many?”

“J- you only” you cried. You couldn’t take the overstimulation, tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself about to cum again. “Only me? How lucky am I huh?” He hummed.

You scratched at his chest, pushing him slightly as his finger moved between your legs and circled your clit. “N- oh m-“ you begged, you buried yourself into his neck as he whispered praise into your ear.

“Doing so good for me chula, feel s- so fucking good” he praised. You felt the mess between your legs run down your thigh, you hugged him as you felt yourself about to cum again. [t: pretty]

“I- Mig-“

“I know baby let it out, I’m f- go on” he seethed. You could tell he was close. His pace was sloppy and his grip on you was getting tighter. You cried out his name in pleasure, the 2nd orgasm hitting you harder than the first as tears streamed down your face.

Miguel’s loud moans filled your ears as he coated your walls. You could feel his cum dripping down to his lap as he messily fucked you onto him. His pace came to a halt, his grip on you was tighter than ever while he took in your warmth.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he kissed your jaw, peppering kisses up to your mouth and sloppily kissing you. Saliva was all over your mouths, the sounds of both of you sloppily kissing each other made Miguel groan.

“You still wanna leave?” He chuckles. Miguel fixes your hair, adjusting it back to normal as he whipped your tears and saliva with his hand. You shook your head, completely drained of energy as you buried yourself into his chest.

You were questioning why he was being so nice. He was just acting like a complete ass a few minutes ago and suddenly he’s treating you like you’ve been together all your lives.

“Do you know what’ll happen if a variant from different verses gets pregnant?” He hums. You shake your head, you’d deal with those thoughts later. All you wanted was to stay in his arms.

“Descansa, I’ll clean us up” he reassured. [t: rest]

#marvel smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagines #miguel o'hara #Miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #smut #miguel x reader

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