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shibaraki · 20 days

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

627 notes · View notes

aspd-culture · 6 days

Note

Welcome back. You’re very informative.

I’m very confused about how numerous people, from you, to other antisocial people speaking from their experiences (some of which I learned are actually friends) to prosocial researchers of ASPD say that antisocial people see relationships as transactional. It’s not weird that you guys see it that way, it’s more like “and prosocials… don’t???” Because I’m certain I’m prosocial. I’m neurodivergent, sure, but no signs of ASPD. So, how do most prosocial people typically view relationships if they’re not transactional?

So I find prosocials and pwASPD both tend to think “but doesn’t everybody” when we hear this - it’s a super undescriptive term - but we’re thinking different things define something as transactional. We also see the reason for that transaction to be different.

From a prosocial generally, they’ll mean “I only want to be around people that ‘don’t drain my energy’, that don’t just take take take, that we mutually enjoy the friendship/relationship and want to be around each other”. That’s kinda their definition of getting something out of it, and they want everyone to get something out of it. If they’re draining you, they want you to be free of it so you can be happy, and the transactions involved can be purely emotional/vibes. The reason they feel this way is a desire for positive and enjoyable social connection; the consequence for an uneven/bad/missing transaction is discomfort and wasting their time in negative experiences and generally feeling bad in association with that person.

PwASPD see those transactions very very literally. There’s no vibes nor emotions in the transactions, those are either a reaction to the transaction or a bonus. We mean that we are getting something tangible or practical out of it. Rides, help with things we can’t or don’t want to do alone, sex, maybe even the social relief from the annoyance of “why don’t you ever talk to anyone?” coming from all sides. We also don’t always care if it’s even on the other person’s end. If they’re ok driving me everywhere/if they do it and don’t say or show they’re uncomfortable, then I will assume they are fine with that piece of the transaction. If I’m taking more than I’m giving and they seem chill with that then I’ll accept it. However, I won’t give them *nothing* and that’s because of our reason for transactions - it’s dangerous otherwise. First off, I have shit I need I can’t get myself as much as it sucks, so I need to be around people. But if we need something from them, what we learned in our childhoods is that we don’t get that for free. There’s always something over your head. A lot of pwASPD had friends or caregivers that would hold favors or even *basic, legally-mandated caregiving* over our heads as though we didn’t deserve it. Often our value was determined as a child by what we provided, and since children can’t provide much, we were worthless and not deserving of good treatment.

This is part of the reason (TW non-descriptive CSA mention, skip to the next paragraph if you want) that people thought ASPD was directly correlated with CSA for a long time - many cases of long term CSA come from either “I’ll give you x/do x for you if you help me with this” or worse, doing something first then saying “but I gave you X!/did X for you! I wouldn’t have if I knew you’d act like this”, often call us selfish if we tried to say no and maybe get aggressive or forceful after, and that is an easy lead-in to our view of interactions.

So a lot of us see it that if we want to be safe/know we can continue to get what we need, we HAVE to be giving them something. If you claim you like being around me “just to be around me” or worse that you’re willing to do something for me “just because I want to”, that’s not safe. You want something from me and I’ll give it to you - just tell me what it is. If you’re not telling me, that means it’s not good or you’re just gonna decide later that I’m selfish. You might hurt me to get what you want and justify it with this. Take something from my side so we’re even, because even means safe. Even means I get access to what I need and you get access to what you need - so now we’re both using this relationship/friendship/etc for something and you wouldn’t wanna mess that up by putting me in danger any more than I’d want to mess it up by putting you in danger.

Of course, not every prosocial sees it the first way and not every pwASPD had those experiences and/or sees it that way. But that’s what I’ve found to be common. If you see “they make me happy” as what your or their end of the transaction is, it’s definitely a prosocial response, maybe with the exception of thinking of it as “getting their brain to dopamine/oxytocin” vs caring how they’re actually feeling. If not, if you need it to be practical, that’s definitely transactional.

It’s important to note this is personal relationships with no practical consequences to ending the relationship - most people see relationships (platonic) with coworkers or managers as transactional and that’s a way I usually explain it to prosocials (“do you deal with your boss bc you like them or bc they sign your check - and would your boss keep you hired if you didn’t do your job because you make them happy just by being there?”). But with a romantic or sexual partner, a friend, etc. this is not a typical view of relationships.

That said - you can *absolutely* not have ASPD and have transactional view of relationships. It’s not a 1:1 thing there; not everyone with ASPD has it and not every prosocial doesn’t. It’s just a really common piece of the puzzle that is this personality disorder.

Edit: ack I’m so sorry I forgot to add the csa tw tags they’re there now.

Plain text below the cut:

Edit: ack I’m so sorry I forgot to add the csa tw tags they’re there now.

#tw mentions of sex #tw csa #tw csa mention #tw abuse mention #tw sa #tw sa mention #tw child abuse mention #tw child abuse #aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome

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mamaspeckles · 3 months

Note

Would it be okay to request some velvet x blind!reader headcanons? Can be SFW or NSFW, whatever you’d rather write!

Hello my love I am so sorry for such a long wait! Of course I can do this for you! I am partially blind(I have low vision but I can sorta see) and seeing this request just pulls at my heart strings❣️ I hope you enjoy reading this because I enjoyed making this! PS! I only wrote SFW Headcanons because I got brain rot near the end so no NSFW for this one sorry:( but if you request for NSFW again I will work on it!

Velvet x Blind!Reader SFW

CHARACTER IS 18+

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

-when it comes to velvet, she can be quite the aggressive and straightforward- she has always been stubborn and hardheaded, and often at times struggles to comprehend you being blind. Sometimes, she finds it extremely stressful and difficult to find the right words to console you. She feels the need to walk on eggshells with you around in case she says the wrong things.- but as time goes by and she sees your overpowering determination, she grows respect for your will to strive.

-velvet had went from 0 to 100 in a one month- she had become territorial over you and had grown a strong urge to protect you and baby you for your disability.

-once you started dating the pop-star, she made it her number one goal to do everything for you, no matter the circumstances. You want to cook something? Oh, don’t be ridiculous, velvet will kick you out of the kitchen and make you a delicious meal! She doesn’t want her lover accidentally burning themselves or setting the house to ablaze.

-velvet had paid a professional to fix your apartment to make it look nicer for her eyes but also to furnish it for your safety- she had every sharp corner or dangerous object in the apartment changed and basically baby-proofed your home.

-velvet is a show-off, especially because of her career of being a mega-star in Mount Rageon.- but when it comes to her showing you off in front of the flashing lights and fans, that is a big no-go.

MEETING FAMILY HEADCANONS :

-“velvet?” “Yes, babe?” “Are you embarrassed to be with me?” “What makes you say that?” “You never introduced me to your friends or family..”

-velvet’s face dropped at your words; she could start to taste the vulnerability seething off your body and lips. She felt terrible that you felt that way. - she cursed herself in her mind for making you think and feel like you were embarrassing to be with. “No no, babe..I’m not embarrassed! I just wasn’t sure if you even wanted to meet anyone from my side..they can be..overbearing..”

-but she would do anything for her beautiful partner to be happy, and with all the guilt velvet had felt, she made a mutual agreement with her family to have you meet them- when you went with her to her family’s house, you were greeted by veneer, who you had met countless times before, and he was very pleased to see you with velvet at his house.- later that evening, you met velvet’s mother and father. Velvet had described her mother as a old women with dull blue eyes, pale skin, and faded out green hair whilst her father as a old man with dark green hair with dull ice blue eyes.

-I should add that when velvet said her family is overbearing, she meant it as they are too helpful- her parents and even veneer were quick to offer you help and even a tour around the house.- they had trailed you around their house and started describing your surroundings in the most abrupt way possible.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

I TRIED IM SORRY IF THIS IS BAD 😭

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sp4cepunisher · 1 year

Text

content warning ; 18+. strong language + nsfw themes ahead [ top!ellie x bottom!reader. spit kink, a couple of brief mentions of choking, explicit depictions of both sexual arousal + sexual activity ] as well as inevitable annoying + messy tense shifts because i’m tired and i needed to get this all out on paper asap because it was tearing me apart and plaguing my fucking mind!!! minors dni.

. . .

ellie williams would never be the type to think of herself as particularly kinky. if ever asked to go into detail about her fantasies or her biggest turn-ons when she did the deed, she would always come out with something like, “eh. i dunno, dude. i’m pretty vanilla.” with like, either an unbothered shrug or a sheepish rub of her fingers against her forehead. because sure, she liked to be in control most of the time, she wasn’t going to deny that. and on the occasions where the girls that she had been with previously had ever asked her to maybe grab them a little harder than usual, or maybe even choke them then yeeeah she would do it for them, whatever. she didn’t like to disappoint. but she had never really been asked to do anything that had really tickled her fancy. not anything in particular that had stuck in her mind, anyway. and yeah, she thought that choking was kind of hot, and being able to get slightly more of an aggressive handful of a woman’s breast was never going to be something that she would refuse. like, she was fine with it, but it was nothing special.

but this mindset seemed to change once ellie started dating you. there was just something about you that made her want to fulfill your every desire. anything you asked for, she wanted to be able to supply for you, and as soon as possible. and especially so on this particular evening, when the brunette found herself leaning over your body which had made itself comfortable against her couch; head resting back against the pillows, knees bent and parted on either side of her body. the two of you had been at it for what seemed like aeons; breathing into each other’s mouths; whispering and smiling with clumsy and needy hips pushing into each other’s to evoke sighs of pleasure and whines of frustration; to feel anything. there was no doubt about it, ellie was obsessed with you, and the feelings were ssssoooo fucking mutual. you both knew that. it was obvious in everything the two of you did; the way you would walk down the street together, and couldn’t even last five minutes without one of you reaching out to grab at the other’s hand like it was life or death. how you couldn’t even be apart in the same vicinity, always having to find each other in order to regain the most meaningful sliver of reassurance – the foundation that the entirety of your relationship was built upon. even in sex, ellie never liked keeping her eyes closed for too long in case she missed a particularly beautiful way in which your lips would part, or your eyes would scrunch up. she loved being close to you; watching how you reacted to her, frame by frame. she would have done anything for you at any time of the day, but something totally foreign – something so otherworldly that it scared her a little bit – would take ahold of her every limb whenever she would be lucky enough to find her girlfriend pinned beneath her. so, the second that you found the right moment to pull away from the messy kiss that the two of you were sharing (and i mean messy. like, lips wet, teeth clunking together every time you kissed, and tongues swirling and sliding like they were getting paid for it) to whisper her name, which she always loved to hear because you would always say it sssooo nicely followed by six of the most unexpected words she had ever heard, ellie would brace herself in fear of something totally gargantuan seizing her in its entirety.

“ellie? will you spit in my mouth?”

and she would literally freeze for a second. you’d feel her do it, and for a moment you would be worried that the question that you had just asked had freaked her out. you hadn’t freaked her out, per say, but your request would have made the girl pause and think for a moment. she’d ponder on your words, replaying them in her head. did you really want her to spit in your mouth? or were you just messing around? like... her spit? from her mouth... into your mouth? wasn’t that like, really fucking disgusting? ellie couldn’t make her mind up for a little while, until her eyes refocused on yours and she would see the way in which they were twinkling; full of want, to the brim with fervour. from the looks of things, you really had meant what you had said. between the look in your eyes, the way your body was swelling and deflating with the heavy breaths that you were taking and the puffiness of your lips from yours and ellie’s prolonged makeout session, ellie had almost become unaware that every inch of her insides had just been doused in gasoline and teased with a flickering little flame that came – smashing through the doors of her brain with no word nor warning – in the form of the words that you had just said, as well as the look in your eyes. the question that sounded so innocent in tone; so breathy; so gentle; so pretty, coming from the dilated pupils; the glistening irises which lay right underneath her nose, but which were both so heavy – so succulent – with concupiscence. ellie hadn’t ever experienced a feeling like the one that had just mercilessly grabbed her around the neck in that singular moment and, as nothing but the feeling of arousal would flood her veins, she’d find that she was unable to hold the next sentence back from being her only reply.

“you filthy little slut, you want me to what?” she wasn’t even looking to hear you say it again. she had heard it the first time, loud and clear; it echoed in her ears, sullying the inside of her head with the dirtiest visuals imaginable. for someone who would have paid millions to own the world’s last known recording of your voice played on a loop, the last thing that ellie would have wanted in that moment would be to hear you say anything else. fuck, she didn’t need to hear another word. instead, she would better secure herself on her knees and flatten the palm of one of her hands against the back of the couch. “open your mouth, baby.” she’d mutter, curling a callused finger beneath your chin to help tilt your head back. and you would be unable to ignore the butterflies which would swarm your stomach at this simple little sentence, nor the way in which your clit would be pulsating from inside your underwear like of course it would have already been throbbing for the entirety of the time that ellie had been on top of you, the entirety of the time that own her clothed cunt had been pushing into yours, but this time it felt as though it had it’s own fucking heartbeat oh my fucking god. it excited you to see your girlfriend – who never failed to succeed in topping you; who was never slack when it came to making you cum, but who had never really been one for strongly expressing her kinks in the bedroom – acting on the spur of the moment. to watch as her eyes would trace your every feature as if she was about to lose them forever, her lips twisting together as she stimulated her salivary glands and the pad of her finger smoothing over the underside of your chin adoringly. you’d do as instructed, allowing your lips to part and your tongue to rest flat against your bottom set of teeth. despite still being fully clothed, not having yet even been touched by ellie’s hands, skin-to-skin, you;d feel exposed; vulnerable, but in the best way. and as for ellie, boy did she like seeing you like this. she often wondered whether you could look any prettier than you did when you first woke up; rubbing the sleep from your eyes. or when you would emerge from the bathroom; freshly showered, hair still wrapped up in a towel atop your head and your clothes uneven, pulled in all the wrong places and clinging messily to your damp body. before now, she wouldn’t have believed that anything could top the way you usually looked; before she had been given the opportunity to watch your eyes do all of the talking; the way they pleaded with her to give you what you so desperately craved. “fuck, you are so pretty.” she would whisper to you, before leaning her face further over yours and pushing a droplet of saliva from her mouth. it would dangle from the shelf of her bottom lip; a string of crystal d.n.a, the most priceless jewel you had ever laid eyes on. she noticed the way your body swelled with a deep breath again, and the way you leaned up, eager to catch the droplet before it had even fallen, watching as it teased you. the raw excitement was noticeably radiating from your every pore, and ellie wished she could tease you like this for hours on end. that was when, much to your annoyance and disappointment, she pulled it back; so effortlessly, as if it wasn’t going to affect you at all. “mmm, do you want it?” it would get her off to see you nod, but the girl – with all of this newfound confidence – wouldn’t hold back on continuing her cruel taunt. “fucking disgusting. such a slutty thing to ask for.” and when (and only when) she would be content with the amount of time she had forced you to wait, then she would push the dewdrop back out, holding it between her lips like she was dangling raw meat before a snapping crocodile. you were desperate for it; hips practically writhing around, lifting and lowering as if that was going to make any difference.

but, when fiiiinally the bead would finally fall – satisfying the air that it cut through like the first sign of rain in a month-long drought – ellie would wonder if the sight that came next was what heaven itself felt like. this was a religious experience, shit, it had to be. when it hit your tongue, you wouldn’t be able to hold back the sigh of relief that would leave you; the breathiest moan that you had let out all evening, the satisfaction evident in the hastiness in which you would pull your tongue back into your mouth and swallow your reward, as if someone was going to snatch it away if you were too slow. a sound of appreciation that the act would evoke from you would be music to ellie’s ears as she would watch in wonderment while you practically fucking drank her spit, licking over your lips as if to savour the taste of her completely; as if her saliva were ambrosia and you wanted to live forever. fuck fuck fuck i love the idea of this tooooo fucking much and i love that gorgeous freckly lesbian even fucking more.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #THIS THOUGHT HAS BEEN IN MY HEAD ALL DAY I NEEDED TO GET IT OUT #ellie-drabbles

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is-the-empires-clip-cute · 3 months

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So, I’ve recently gotten this Jimmy. He’s been settling in very well with my other emperors, and my Lizzie instantly took to him. However, I noticed that my Scott was beginning to show signs of courtship, though it took me a bit to realize he wasn’t trying to be aggressive, as I’d never witnessed one before. It seemed to be going alright, but then my Lizzie started targeting my Scott, cornering and trying to intimidate him, but she instantly stops when my Jimmy is around. She hasn’t physically attacked him yet, but I’ve separated them, just in case. I was hoping I could let my emperors roam free and all interact with each other, but now I’m worried that I’ll have to keep my Scott or Lizzie locked in so they don’t hurt each other. Any idea why she started to get so territorial?

Hi there, thanks for the ask!

I understand your concern on all fronts - elven courtship is a stand out and highly unique ritual that definitely isn't for the faint of heart, and any responsible emperor owner would be concerned with territorial behaviour. However, I am pleased to reassure you than the behaviour of your Lizzie is not a result of any actual behavioural issues - in fact, your Lizzie being so well bonded to her Jimmy is a complete credit to your emperor husbandry. This behaviour is great indicator that you've successfully recreated the natural, mutually beneficial and familial relationships wild Lizzies are inclined to form with their closely related brother species, the Jimmy Solidarity.

But enough of my biology geeking - you came here seeking advice. I've already mentioned the behaviour of your Lizzie is entirely natural, but here's why - it is a completely normal reaction of a rescued or freshly mature Lizzie to witnessing the courtship behaviours of Jimmy and his mate towards each other. The fact is, your Lizzie has never seen elven courtship rituals either - to her, Scott is initiating his own kind of territorial dispute and general challenge to her bonded Jimmy, and as the larger and more powerful species, she will see it as her duty to muscle in and protect Jimmy. Indeed, keeping an eye on her "Little brother" is what she was born for, and while she's doing a very good job, it's understandably distressing for you and your Scott. You never mentioned how old your Lizzie was, or where exactly you got her from (Wild caught, rescue, domestic bred, etc) but both of these are contributing factors to the intensity of this behaviour - although almost all Lizzies will have protective instincts like this, only some will have this strong of a reaction. This is usually the case of rescued Lizzies who have not been bonded with a Jimmy before, or freshly matured Lizzies who are in the same situation. This does happen in the wild too - imagine the battering a Scott might get when there are multiple bonded Lizzies to one Solidarity.

However the most important thing to note about this behaviour is it is temporary - this will not affect the future of your emperor colony nor will it have any poor effect on your emperors if managed correctly. Keeping an eye on your emperors is vital - many have reported baby monitors and home security, such as a cheap camera above any popular communal areas are extremely effective for amateur behaviour monitoring. The main function of this is to ensure that no one is getting hurt or having prolonged fights while you're away, as these are signs the behaviour phase is not playing out as planned (though you can also find some hilarious clips) Provided nothing of the sort is found, you can be reassured that this stage will play out eventually and the house will return to normal. Whether this is because the Lizzie figures out nothing is wrong or because the Scott finally gets over the prolonged hostile stage of his courtship ritual and actually starts behaving romantically towards your Jimmy is entirely up to the individual temperaments of personalities of your group. Rest assured, it will end, and in the meantime, maybe your Scott getting what was coming to him after being such a big bully in courtship, heh.

Thanks again for the ask,

Mod Darwin :)

#empires smp #empiresblr #advice #empires jimmy #empires scott #empires lizzie #scott smajor #dangthatsalongname #lizzie ldshadowlady #ldshadowlady #jimmy solidarity #solidaritygaming #mod darwin

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dyns33 · 2 years

Text

Flufftober 19 - Marc Spector

Marc Spector x reader

Everyone had secrets.

Shameful, painful, unmentionable things, and even if they trusted certain people, ready to die for them and knowing that it was mutual, they didn't necessarily want to tell them everything.

This was the case for Marc and Y/N.

Even though they loved each other deeply, there were some things they had never said to each other.

For his part, Marc had told Y/N almost everything. It had taken him some time, Steven's encouragement, Jake's sighs and Layla's gentle teasing, for him to open up to her. There were a lot of things he would have preferred to keep to himself, but everyone had told him it wasn't right to hide all this, and he couldn't contradict them.

So he had told her about the army. His jobs as mercenaries, the people he killed. His meeting with Khonshu. His DID, introducing her to Steven and Jake. His marriage to Layla, and their separation. The Scarab, Cairo, Harrow.

There was only one subject he still refused to discuss, even though he had made some progress, not crying anymore and not forcing one of his alters to take over as soon as he thought about it.

His childhood.

His crime.

His tormentor.

He was afraid of Y/N's reaction if he told her about it. He didn't want her to pity him. Or for her to see him as a monster. Or that she has no reaction, as if it were not so serious.

For her part, Y/N tried to remain calm whenever the big skeletal bird appeared to shout at Marc or one of the others. Because she wasn't supposed to see or hear him.

Ever since she was little, she was able to see and hear many things. She had strange dreams, about events that had happened, or were about to happen. She visited places that were on other planets, sometimes in other universes.

She knew very well that she could have spoken to Marc about it, especially since he had confessed to her that he was an avatar. But it was stronger than her, she remembered perfectly how her parents, the other children, the doctors, had treated her when she had told them about those strange voices, those shadows and huge creatures. that she was the only one to perceive.

After several months in a hospital, with lots of drugs, she ended up saying that she had made it all up, that it was over. She was normal, everything was fine.

And most of the time, that was true enough. There were always weird things everywhere she went, but if she avoided certain places like cemeteries, churches, or museums, it wasn't so bad, and she managed to hide her weirdness.

With Marc and his Moon God, it was a little more complicated, but she had ended up getting used to it.

That wasn't what bothered her the most.

There were two entities that regularly followed Marc. Sometimes during the day, sometimes at night. Y/N could see them in her dreams.

The woman was very aggressive. The little boy never said anything, running away as soon as she saw him.

To determine what they were, ghosts or demons, and force them to leave Marc alone, she tried to talk to them.

"Leave him alone ?" repeated the woman with crazy eyes, but also full of sadness. "After what he did ? But you don't know what he did, do you ? He didn't tell you. Because he knows he doesn't deserve to be happy and that you will leave if he talks about it !"

"Then explain to me."

"He took my Roro ! He did it on purpose, I should have known he would do such a thing, I should never have trusted him ! He deserves to be punished, you understand ?! My Roro ! I want my Roro !"

Y/N failed to get any more information from the woman, who was then only crying and screaming hysterically. She couldn't figure out what a "roro" was.

So she turned her attention to the little boy. It was really not easy to manage to approach him, but in one of her dreams, she found him near a cave.

"Hello." she said softly not to scare him. "What are you doing here all alone ?"

"I'm waiting for the doctor."

"The doctor ?"

"Yes. I'm his assistant, Russell, and we're going to explore this ancient cavern for treasures."

"Oh, those kind of doctors, okay. You're explorers. That's great ! And the doctor isn't here yet ?"

"No, I'm expecting him. But I don't know if we should go in there. Mom and dad say it can be dangerous."

"They are probably right."

"Mom's been weird lately. Especially with my brother. She's mean and I don't understand why. He's nice, my big brother. He hasn't done anything wrong. She makes him cry, I don't like that. I don't want to see her."

The poor kid then started to sob and Y/N couldn't help hugging him to try to comfort him, until he disappeared or she woke up.

She often dreamed of him, always the same dream, near the cave, talking about adventure and her brother.

Until she dreamed he was drowning. This jolted her awake, her cry also waking Marc.

"What's going on ?! Are you okay babe ? Are you hurt ?!"

"No. Excuse me. A nightmare, that's all."

"Oh. I get it. Do you… Do you want to talk about it ? Steven says it might help to talk about it." he said, before starting to whisper. "Yeah okay, I'm going to hug her. What ? You think so ? I don't know Steven, Jake might be right, I should ask her if she wants me to hug her first."

"You are all adorable. Yes, I would like a hug, please."

Not wasting a second, Marc guided her against him, resting her head against his chest, his hands caressing her back and her hair.

He said nothing, waiting for her to speak, if she wanted to.

"You'll find this absurd, but I often dream of a little boy. I grew attached to him and last night he... He died."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault. I mean, I don't even know if he's real."

"... What do you mean ?"

"I... I may have seen him before, somewhere, and don't remember. Well, I think I'll remember a boy named Russell. Maybe when I was at the hospital. He was waiting for a doctor. He had a little accent, like Steven."

Beneath her, Marc's whole body tensed suddenly. He stopped moving, even breathing.

"Marc ?"

"... Tell me more about this boy." he asked slowly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Hmm. His name is Russell. He must be five or six years old, I'm not sure. He has a big brother. Their mother has been weird for a while according to him, she's been picking on his brother and he doesn't don't understand why."

"... He doesn't understand why ?"

"No. His brother is very nice. He told me a lot about him, about their games. It makes him cry that their mother is mean. I may have also dreamed of her now that I think about it. Or maybe not. Do you think "roro" could be a nickname for Russell ?"

"For Randall. It's a nickname for Randall."

His voice got very weird as he said that. Y/N raised her head to look at him, discovering a disturbing mix of fear, sadness and weariness.

Slowly, she ran her hands over his cheeks.

"Marc ? Are you okay ? Do you... Do you know Randall ?"

"He was... my brother."

"Oh. I see."

"No, you don't see."

"Actually, I think I do. Your…Your mother also talked to me a bit. I saw the cave. Rus… Randall told me about exploring. How dangerous it could be. You're the doctor, aren't you ? It was a game. Then there was an accident. An accident, Marc, it wasn't your fault. Your brother knows it. He told me. He said so many nice things about you. You were the best big brother and he doesn't blame you at all. In fact, he even avoids your mother now. He doesn't like what she did to you. What she is doing to you, even now. You didn't deserve this, you didn't do anything wrong, he said it himself. Don't ask me how I know, but I don't think they're at the same place. He's waiting for you to play, she wanders in the shadows. Marc... Marc, darling, please don't cry, I'm sorry."

She kissed his tears, his forehead, his nose, his mouth, trying to comfort him, afraid that one of the alters was coming. She adored them, but she and Marc had to deal with this together.

Maybe he was strong enough, maybe the others knew what to do and what not to do, but Marc stayed with her, shaking and sobbing.

"... He's not mad at me ?"

"Not at all."

"Isn't... Isn't it just a dream ?"

"... No. There are some things I haven't told you. Things I know, see, hear. Like Khonshu. I must tell you that he is really very unpleasant. Except with Jake. He's a little more polite with Jake. Sorry for not telling you before."

"I haven't told you about Randall before."

"You didn't have to." she reassured him, rocking him. "It's my fault you had to tell me."

"You're not responsible for what you dream of, or anything else. We had little secrets, and it's all good now."

"Are you sure ?"

Marc looked at her for a long time. There was something she couldn't read in his eyes, as if he was surprised that she was asking this, that he didn't know how he should take it, before smiling slightly, deciding that it was. was a good thing.

There was little chance that everything would be all good, between the traumas, the ghosts, the missions and the visions, but they would be together, with no more secrets from each other, ready to face anything.

#moon knight #Marc Spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #marc spector fanfic #flufftober 2022

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zujime · 1 year

Note

Hey I love your work! Can I request a fic/HC of Vi x gem!reader going to the beach/pool together? I feel like she’d be apprehensive at first but end up having a great time lol

─── vi x gn!reader

c.w. fluff, mentions of drowning, headcanons

- i’m so sorry this took so long! i was so burnt out that i just couldn’t get this out on time.

— being at the pool with vi for the first time isn’t that bad. if it’s a mutual friend’s pool, the most she’d been worried about is you drowning and that also causes her to follow you around in the pool like a lost puppy. she knows you capable of handling yourself but she hangs around anyway, just in case. and plus, she wants you at arms reach for when she wants to wrap you in her arms.

— if you can swim, then there might be a high chance that the two of you will have mini swimming competitions and whoever wins…well, it doesn’t matter who wins cause vi smothers you in kisses afterwards.

— if you can’t really swim, she’s willing to teach you but she’s more cautious and way closer than normal, though that’s only because she doesn’t want you to drown. she finds it super cute when you finally learn to do the doggie paddle and whenever you paddle over to her, she gives you cheek and forehead kisses before wrapping you in her arms.

— she likes whacking you with pool noodles. she makes sure not to be too aggressive to the point where she’d possibly hurt you though, your safety is her first priority.

— at the beach, she gets a little more uptight. she trusts you more than humanly possible, but she doesn’t trust the people around you both. you’re out here looking good in the new swimwear the two of you went shopping for, of course some people are going to stare and that’s what causes vi to cling to you 24/7.

— hand holding as you find a spot to lay your towels and umbrellas, dragging out a kiss (anywhere) for as long as possible.

— the first time the two of you built sandcastles together was so cute. whenever you asked for more water or sand or a seashell of some sort, she’d always go and get it before running back to you like a little puppy. you were cupping her hands as you showed her how to properly mold the sand to look how she wanted—which she adored since she got to be close to you.

— and after you both are done with being in the pool or in the ocean, vi would be sitting with you in her lap either in a lounge chair or on the towels. she’d give you quick pecks on the neck or on your temples before asking you about how much fun you had today.

#[♪]. vi #vi imagine #vi arcane x reader #vi headcanons #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #arcane headcanons #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n

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ashesandhackles · 9 months

Note

Yeah, I also struggle to imagine Severus and Remus becoming friends in canon. Remus is extremely passive aggressive and way too loyal to James, while Severus is very open about his disdain for certain people, including Remus and especially James. If I were Severus I would also find it extremely hard to trust Remus given their history. Remus is also the kind of person who’s willing to do anything to fit in and be liked, while Sev is comfortable with his own company. Both make sense given their circumstances. Contrary to popular belief, Sev did NOT hate Remus because he was a werewolf - he hated him because he was and quite frankly remained one of his bullies. Yet at the same time, I love both characters and I’m fascinated by their dynamic. I do think there is a version of reality where under different circumstances, they could have gotten along. Now, I’m wondering, do you think there’s any version of reality where Severus and Sirius could have been friends?

I have answered this somewhere before - but I am going to quote my friend @dragonlordette on this and explain why they are incompatible:

"Snape is unafraid to be himself to the point of being bullied and disliked his whole life, while Lupin is avoidant. These two characteristics don't lend themselves to complementing each other, they just lead to Snape disrespecting Lupin. As an alternative example of a more "complementary" case of opposites attract, Tonks is sociable while Lupin is avoidant. This means she can help him out his shell, but she is not so committed to "staying true to herself" that she would find lupins tendency not to speak up to his friends weak (like snape would). It's a more complementary strength.

I just feel like nearly every trait of Lupin and snape is mutually exclusive, rather than complementary. "

My own take is that, "Remus enjoys being around people who are aspirational - someone whose life he can live vicariously through (James, teen Sirius, Tonks) or someone he can look up to (Dumbledore). Severus is aspirational in a way that won't speak to Remus."

In canon, from the way I read it, Snape is on backfoot by what he considers is Remus' dishonest civility. He cannot effectively argue with Remus when Remus is polite but inwardly hostile/oppositional - see, here: Verbal Fencing Between Snape and Remus , Neither Likes Nor Dislikes Severus

He tries to avoid Remus the best he can, because one, there is genuine fear there from the teenage brush off of the Whomping Willow incident and he is constantly wary and hypervigilant. My reading of Remus is harsher than a lot of the fandom, but I really don't see a scenario of them getting along. (I'm sure other interpretations may make that feasible, but it's not my vision of who these two characters are)

Also, it's clear to me that Remus, while acknowledging that his friend's behaviour with Snape wasn't great, isn't too fond of him himself. (he will try to lighten how James' behaviour looks - see end of POA, OOTP chapter post SWM). He disapproves of Snape as an authority figure - as demonstrated by the Boggart lesson (Snape's jibe about Neville pissed him off - he raises his eyebrows at him, which in Remus language, is "ticked off"), and the fact that while he agrees with Snape that Harry shouldn't be in Hogsmeade, he will not let Harry be in Snape's power to deal with.

Sirius, on the other hand, as hot take it might be - but as my friend @saintsenara pointed out, Snape enjoys baiting him ("how is the cleaning going?"), engaging with him because Sirius is upfront (the entire kitchen scene). Snape knows how to deal with that kind of language, it's batting in a language he knows, whereas with Remus, he is never sure of what he is getting.

Sirius and Snape are narrative mirrors, explicitly in canon. Sirius and Remus are narrative stand-ins for when James is important for Harry's development, while Snape's story becomes more important when Lily is important to Harry's development:

They have much in common:

- people who lost their best friends and the most damaged by it.

- Sirius punishes himself for James' death by staying in Azkaban for 12 years, Snape atones for his own guilt by being a spy.

- Snape and Sirius both live in their childhood homes, and they both act as prison. For Sirius, it is imposed on him, for Snape - it seems to be self inflicted.

- anger issues, to put it lightly.

- intensely loyal, and very very brave. But great capacity for cruelty.

- Snape spent his teenage years running away from his Muggle roots, Sirius spends his teenage years running away from aristocratic pureblood house

As my co-writer and friend @thedreamermusing pointed out: "Also: Snape has father issues; Sirius has Mommy issues. Their lives run parallel more or less- Sirius and Snape both form a formative best friend friendship in their childhood, are both drawn sorted in their houses in an effort to cement their own family complexes (Snape and his mom, Sirius and his family), both base their identities om the basis of belonging to a community (Snape-DEs, Sirius- Marauders), both form their moral complexes by becoming the opposite of their roots (Snape loves the dark arts and blood supremacy, Sirius hates the dark arts and hangs muggle posters), both have a cruel sense of humour (Snape thinking dark magic is just a laugh, Sirius thinking feeding Remus Snape a la Carte being a joke), both of them joining a group to further themselves away from their roots after school, both of them risking their lives to protect their bestfriends, both of them making a terrible mistake by trusting the wrong person that leads to their best friend dying, both of them punishing themselves for the next 12 years to atone, both of them using the memory of their bffs as the one shining light in their miserable lives to keep going on, both of them forced in their childhood homes in the last part of their lives, both of them finally dying for Harry."

Essentially, they have a capacity for understanding each other in a way because there is an intense projection involved in how they interact with each other. I have answered bits of that dynamic here and how their dialogue flows, where they throw words back at each other whereas the one with Remus involves Remus taking the rug from under his feet. So yeah, basically I don't see it with Severus and Remus - but like I pointed out, the way I envision the two characters might not align with others :)

#asks

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Text

A War of the Heart - Chapter Five | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer’s arrest causes you to spiral into a bottle and leads to you and Luke having a heated argument which somehow ends with a mutual understanding.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings - prison arc but doesn’t go into detail, drugs, murder and all the things that go with the prison arc, drinking, drunk reader, swearing, arguing, aggression, mild violence.

WC - 3.9k

Chapter Five

Present - Matamoros, Mexico

Two days after your break up, the last place you expected to find yourself was in Mexico, staring into the drugged eyes of your ex-boyfriend who clearly had no idea who you were.

When Emily had dropped the bombshell to the team that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico on suspicion of drug possession with intent to distribute after leading the Mexican authorities on a high speed chase through the desert, you struggled to wrap your head around the information.

Nothing about it made sense. Why was Spencer in Mexico? Why did he have drugs in his car? Why was he running away from the cops? What the fuck was going on?

You didn’t really have a lot of time to process the information before you, Emily and Luke were on the jet heading for Matamoros. You sat alone at the back of the plane, needing some time to try to understand all of this. Two days ago he’d been in your apartment and now he was in a Mexican holding cell. What had gone on in the space of forty eight hours to lead to this?

About half way through the flight you heard the footsteps approaching and you prayed it was Emily although you knew better. Luke slid into the chair opposite you and sighed.

“I need to ask you some questions, you know that.” He spoke, his voice croaky.

“Have Emily do it.” You wouldn’t look at him.

“No.” He stood his ground. “You’ll be more honest with me.”

You glanced from where you’d been staring out of the window across to him. You wanted to argue with him, you wanted to scream at him that he was the last person you wanted to talk to. But for the sake of figuring out what happened to Spencer, you needed to speak to him.

“Fine.” You folded your arms.

“When was the last time you saw Reid?”

“Two days ago after the case in Palm Springs.”

“Did he mention anything about going to Mexico?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He just said he had some things to figure out about what to do with his mom.”

“He didn’t give any indication that he might-“

“No!” You cut him off. “He left my apartment after breaking up with me and I don’t know where he went, ok?” You snapped, knowing full well Emily would have heard you down the jet too.

Luke sucked in a breath, averting his eyes from you and clearly feeling guilty for pressuring that out of you.

“I uh…I’m sorry I didn’t know.” He chewed on his bottom lip.

“Yeah well, now you do.” You sat back in your chair and looked out of the window again. “You’ll be pleased to know you don’t have to lie anymore, the secrets out. Now, please, leave me alone.”

Luke didn’t think you should be alone right now but he was sure if he tried to stay it would end in a fight. The two of you had barely spoken as of late which had meant there was no way for it to end in an argument and that was probably for the best. He pushed himself up, giving you one last look, hoping you might change your mind but you didn’t even look up and so he left with his tail between his legs.

He couldn’t help the way your words were spinning around his head, focused on one thing in particular. Spencer had broken up with you, you and Spencer weren’t together anymore. He’d found out about your history together or maybe you’d finally told him and he’d ended things. If you were single did that mean…no, Luke didn’t want to get ahead of himself, he was dating someone after all. But he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe there was a chance for the two of you after all.

Now standing outside of the holding cell staring into those eyes you’d spent a countless amount of time looking into, Spencer seemed to look through you. Luke was at your side while Emily was talking to the Mexican cops.

“Spence?” You croaked out, peering at him through the bars. “Spence, it’s me. It’s Y/N.”

“And Luke. We’re here, Reid.” Luke spoke up.

Spencer frowned between the two of you before pushing himself up from the bench. He slumped towards the bars, confusion riddled in his features.

“I know who you are.” He choked out. “And I don’t want to see either of you.”

“Spencer, we’re here to help.” You sniffed back your tears.

He ignored you, turning around slowly and shuffling back to the bench, keeping his back to both of you. You sniffed again, wiping a stray tear that had escaped your eye. Out of instinct, Luke wrapped his arm around your waist but you quickly slapped him away.

“Don’t touch me.” You spat before turning on your heels and fleeing.

***

It had been one of the longest days of your entire life. Between calls back and forth to the team back at Quantico and the discovery of Nadie Ramos dead body, it had been incredibly draining. It was looking increasingly likely that Spencer was going to be charged with her murder but for now there was nothing that could be done. Matt Simmons from the IRT was supposed to be joining you down in Mexico in the morning and you could only hope he and his team would be able to help free Spencer before charges were filed against him.

Spencer’s expanded tox results were still pending and the evidence from Nadie’s murder scene were being processed. Emily had insisted the three of you call it night and start fresh in the morning. But of course you wouldn’t get any sleep, not with the images of Spencer in that holding cell in your mind.

You’d lost count of how many glasses of wine you’d gotten through. Honestly there didn’t seem to be enough alcohol in the world to clear your mind tonight. You knew you needed to be clear headed tomorrow for Spencer, but after that first sip, you couldn’t stop. You kept telling yourself this was your last glass, trying to force yourself to leave, when someone slipped into the seat opposite you in the corner booth of the hotel bar. You would have thought he’d have more sense than to seek you out, apparently you were wrong.

“How are you doing?” His voice was lower than usual, croaky like he hadn’t slept a wink in weeks.

“I was better before you sat down.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine.

“Stop this, Y/N. Stop with the hostility for five minutes, please?”

“You want me to stop being hostile? Me? When the last thing you said to me that wasn’t about a case was I can’t believe I ever thought I loved you? And you want me not to be hostile?” Honestly it wasn’t until that moment you really let yourself feel how much those words hurt you. It must have been the alcohol.

Luke instantly softened, sighing and running his hands over his stubble.

“I didn’t mean that. I was angry.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.

“You still said it. And it hurt, ok?” You distracted yourself by sipping from your glass.

“I’m sorry.” He sighed again. “You know it wasn’t true. You know how I felt about you. How I feel about you.”

“Don’t, don’t do that.” You shook your head.

“Do what?” He frowned as you finished your wine and got to your feet.

“Don’t you dare sit there and make big sweeping confessions you can’t take back.” You went to leave but as expected Luke was faster than you and was quickly grabbing you by the arm.

“What if I don’t want to take them back? I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel how I feel about you.” He kept hold of you, worried you might try and flee again.

“You think now is the time?” You spat at him. “Right now? While my ex is in a fucking prison cell facing charges for a crime he didn’t commit. You think now is the time for you to do this?” You shook him off. “Fuck you, Alvez. Fuck you!”

He grabbed you again, eyes narrowing on you only now realising the slur in your voice, the way you wobbled on your feet.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“That’s none of your business. Now if you’d kindly stop manhandling me, I’d like to go to bed.” You roughly yanked your arm away from him, a combination of the force in which you moved and the wine causing you to lose your balance.

You almost went flying into the hard tiled floor, you braced yourself for the impact but it never came. Instead there was a strong set of arms suddenly around your waist, grabbing you before you had a chance to fall face first on the floor. He turned you slowly in his arms, making sure to keep a hold of you. He told himself it was in case you stumbled again but that was only half of the truth.

“Let me help you upstairs.” He spoke softly, only just resisting the urge to stroke your hair back from your eyes.

“I don’t need help. Least of all from you.” To your credit, when you weren’t slurring you sounded remarkably sober. But Luke had first hand experience in dealing with you drunk.

“Well that’s too bad.” He kept one arm around your waist and started guiding you towards the elevators.

You wriggled to try and get free of his hold but the wine had affected your strength and he was able to get you across the room and to the bank of elevators. The last time he’d had to do this was much more dangerous, there was a lot more on the line. At least it couldn’t potentially end your military career this time.

He called for the elevator and when the doors opened he helped you inside despite you still trying to get free from him. Thankfully he already knew where your room was, he was pretty certain you weren’t going to tell him if he didn’t, and it was conveniently only a few doors down from his own.

The doors closed and it started to ascend when you finally broke free of his hold and glared at him through wild, alcohol glazed eyes.

“I hate you, do you know that?” You spat at him.

“No, Y/N, you don’t hate me.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yes, yes I do. You show up here and you just fuck everything up. I was happy! I was finally fucking happy and then you just waltz in and turn everything on its head. I blame you for this. I blame you for everything. I hate you Luke Alvez.”

Luke swirled his tongue around his mouth, poking it against his cheeks the way he did to try and calm a rising anger. But it was no use. He’d reached boiling point and there was no going back.

“Fuck you.” He suddenly yelled out of nowhere, months or even years worth of pent up emotions finally coming to the surface. “Fuck you, Y/N. You don’t get to blame me for this. You made the decision not to tell Reid about our history, not me. You are the one that wanted to keep secrets. That’s not on me. And don’t fucking stand there telling me you hate me when I have done nothing to you except love you for thirteen damn years!

You ran away like a goddamn coward because you couldn’t handle your feelings for me. I told you, multiple times, that I wanted to marry you, to spend my life with you and you ran away. But do you want to know the most fucked up part? After everything that’s happened, I would still marry you tomorrow because I love you more than I ever thought it possible to love someone. And I know you don’t hate me, far from it. You love me and you can’t stand that.”

When you suddenly slapped him hard across the face it was hard to tell who was more surprised. You certainly hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t even realised you were going to do it until your hand collided with his cheek. Luke groaned at the impact, his hand going up to cradle his face. The look in his eyes was more hurt than you’d ever seen.

“You don’t know me.” You mumbled. “You don’t know me at all. Go to hell, Alvez.”

The elevator came to a stop just as you finished your sentence and you were quick to escape as soon as the doors started opening. You stumbled on your feet, swerving down the corridor but you could hear his heavy steps behind you.

“Would you come back here, damnit?” He called from behind.

“No, leave me alone.” At some point tears had started rolling down your cheeks but you pushed through them, finding your room and trying to frantically locate your key card in your pocket.

“I’m just trying to help you! Why do you need to make everything so difficult?”

You found your key but due to the alcohol and the tears constricting your vision you couldn’t get it in the slot. Luke watched you fumbling.

“Ay dios mio.” He mumbled. “Move out of the way.”

“No.”

“Move.” He growled. “That is an order, private.”

Your back went suddenly rigid. It didn’t matter how much time you’d been out of the army, an order like that would always make you stop in your tracks. You swallowed, he couldn’t command you in that way anymore.

“I am not a private anymore and this isn’t Iraq.”

Luke exhaled a heavy breath, determined not to lose his cool again. But it happened anyway. He suddenly grabbed you by the biceps and spun you around, pushing you heavily up against the door.

“Stop this.” He spat. “I am trying to help you!”

His fingers dug into your arms, probably hard enough to leave bruises. It wouldn’t be the first time, you’d grown adept in covering the marks Luke always used to leave on you. That’s not to say he was violent, it was usually just the result of rough sex and Luke pinning you down. Occasionally he’d lose his cool, like now, sometimes not realising his own strength. But he never deliberately hurt you.

“You are the last person I want to help me.” Your tears continued to roll down your cheeks.

Despite your words you still moved aside when Luke let go of you. You were suddenly exhausted, completely drained. You had no fight left in you. You let Luke prize the key card from your hand and open your door. He nodded his head towards it, motioning you inside. You didn’t argue when he followed you in.

You kicked off your shoes and slumped onto the bed. Luke came closer and stood over you.

“I don’t want it to be like this, Y/N.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Something has to give. I can’t keep fighting with you, it’s taking too much out of me.”

“I don’t know if I can work with you, Luke.” You confessed, hanging your head. “I think…I’ve been thinking for a while about leaving the BAU. I think it will be for the best.”

Luke shook his head, sitting down beside you and placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Please don’t do that. Not because of me.”

“I can’t keep seeing you everyday.” You shrugged. “Look at me, Luke, look at what this is doing to me.”

You looked up at him, your tear filled eyes looked utterly broken. You looked as though you’d aged in the few months he’d been on the team. It was only now he really saw what he’d done to you. And it made his heart shatter.

“Then I’ll leave. You’ve been with the team a lot longer than me, it’s not fair for you to have to quit. A part of me kinda misses the fugitive task force anyway.” He moved his hand from your shoulder, down across your shoulder blades and settled on your lower back. “But for now we just need to focus on Reid. Once we’ve got him home, I’ll resign.”

“I don’t want you to have to do that.”

“And I don’t want you to either.”

Silence stretched out between you and Luke’s arm snaked further around your waist. You flopped your head to the side and rested it against his shoulder. The silence seemed to last forever but it was probably only a few minutes before Luke sighed, helping you sit back up.

“I should go.” He spoke but he didn’t move.

“Don’t…please don’t…” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Don’t make me say it.”

“If you want a favour from me, after all the shit you’ve given me since I joined the team, then the least you can do is say it.” He frowned at you, knowing what you wanted to say but were too scared to.

You clenched your jaw with a sigh, almost too stubborn to say the words. But you needed him right now, more than you’d probably ever needed anyone. So as much as it killed you to say the words, it would be harder not to say them.

“Please don’t go.” You sniffed, wiping your eyes. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Realistically, Luke knew it was a terrible idea, but practically, he couldn’t refuse such an offer. He nodded his head, pushing himself up to his feet, unsure what to do with himself. Getting in the bed seemed presumptuous, he needed to wait for your cue.

You stood as well, legs still wobbly from the wine. You swallowed a lump in your throat before walking past him towards your go bag on the chair in the corner. You turned your back on him while you changed but you felt his eyes on you. When you removed your shirt and unhooked your bra he had to physically restrain himself from coming closer to you. But soon you were slipping on an oversized t-shirt, one that almost came down to your knees. Luke knew without seeing the print on the front that it was your old Rangers shirt with the 75th emblazoned over the chest.

You slipped off your pants, using the length of the shirt to cover yourself although a part of Luke wished you wouldn’t. Once changed you turned back to him, but didn’t look at him, as you crept over to the bed and slid in between the sheets.

Luke still stood there dumbly, watching you as you rolled onto your side to face him. You looked up at him, tears still hidden behind your eyes but no longer falling, and patted the mattress.

Luke knew this was a bad idea. Sharing a bed with you would be almost impossible for him to keep his hands to himself. But he tried to focus on the circumstances that brought you here. Spencer was in jail, he needed help. And not to mention, Luke was still dating Lisa.

He closed his eyes as he started unbuttoning his shirt, not wanting to look at you while he did so. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was sure he heard you suck in a deep breath as he dropped the shirt to the floor. He had to ignore it, instead focusing on getting out of his pants. Once just in his underwear he finally opened his eyes but looked at the bed instead of you. He continued to do so while he crawled onto the mattress and settled onto his back under the sheet.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You whispered.

“Because if I look at you,” he sighed. “I will not be able to be held accountable for what I do to you.”

“Right.” You swallowed. “Fair enough.”

He felt the bed shift beneath him and he dared to finally glance over at you. You’d rolled over onto your other side, now facing away from him.

“Is this better?” You mumbled against your pillow.

“Not really.” He chuckled. “Can I…can I hold you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Again, Luke knew what a terrible idea it was but he couldn’t help himself. He shuffled closer to you and rolled onto his side. He reached for you but his hand hovered in mid air for a few seconds before he gently laid it on your bicep. He moved closer still, until his front was pressing up against your back. His fingertips grazed down your bare arm until he found your hip and snaked his arm around your waist.

He was hard, it wasn’t difficult to tell given the way he was flush against you. His breath tickled the back of your neck and occasionally you felt his scratchy stubble brush against your skin. His hand took purchase on your stomach and you entwined your fingers with his holding him in place. He cautiously edged his knee between your thighs.

“This is dangerous.” He whispered against your neck. “Do you have any idea how turned on I am right now?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea.” You swallowed thickly. “Are you still with Lisa?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s not dangerous. I’m not making that mistake again.” You gave his hand a soft squeeze.

“But if I wasn’t with Lisa?” He dared ask, as if it made a difference.

“Trust me when I say you don’t want the answer to that.”

Your words caused him to hiss and his stubble brushed against your flesh again but it wasn’t quite a kiss.

“Y/N?” He spoke against your skin.

“Yes Luke?”

“What would happen if I broke up with Lisa?”

You sighed, shuffling somehow closer to him.

“I don’t know, Luke.” You admitted. “You and I aren’t good for each other.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” He croaked. “You never gave us a chance.”

“We were volatile at best.” You sighed again. “Our fights, Luke, were explosive. Sure the make ups were pretty good but, fuck, we know how to push each others buttons too well. We were kinda toxic.”

“I don’t agree.” He shook his head, tightening his hold on your hand. “It was passion, we had passion. Ok, it got a little out of hand sometimes but I’ve never had that kind of passion with someone else.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” You laughed dryly. “I almost broke your nose once, you remember?”

“How could I forget?” He chuckled too.

“That’s not a healthy relationship.”

“You were drunk if I recall.”

“And who’s to say the next time I got drunk I wouldn’t have actually broken your nose? Or worse? Luke, I don’t like myself when I’m with you, that’s the hard truth. I can’t put myself through that again. So to answer your question, if you were to break up with Lisa, it wouldn’t change anything. Not for me anyway.”

Luke sniffed loudly and you felt him nodding his head.

“I appreciate the honesty.” He sighed. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck to hear though.”

After that the two of you fell into silence and at some point you both fell asleep, safe from the world in each others arms.

Next Chapter

Taglist

@carolinesbookworld @wooya1224 @littlebeanwrites @randomrambling @telepathay

#luke alvez #luke alvez fanfiction #luke alvez fanfic #luke alvez smut #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez x fem! reader #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

103 notes · View notes

multifandomfanficss · 9 months

Text

More Than I’m Willing To Lose Part 4 (finale)

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Featuring platonic!11th Street Kids.

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Prompt: The team has found Jack and they’ll stop at nothing to take him down, but you and Adrian just want to keep each other safe.

Warnings: panic, gun violence, scientific experimentation, mentions of sex in a joking manner, cannon typical Peacemaker violence and language

A/N: Here it is! The final chapter! It’s so crazy to me that I’m actually posting this almost exactly a year ago from when I started writing the first chapter in August of last year. I didn’t think I’d ever finish this one. I always intended to, but never did. I’m happy I finally got around to it. I hope you guys enjoy! 🥰🧜‍♂️

You sat and listened as Harcourt gave the rundown on how the mission would go. From what they could tell there was only one guy really involved. Jack seemed to be working alone. Nobody really knew why, but they didn’t care. Leota was going to run the mission, John would be running head on tech and coms, and Adrian and Chris would be the muscle. Emilia planned on staying back to watch you, just in case anyone tried anything while the team was gone.

“I’m not staying home. I’m going.” You decide.

“No, you’re not.” Adrian says adamantly.

“That’s not fair! I’m the reason we’re in this mess. Why can’t I go?” You question him.

“We’re not talking about this right now.” He tries to avoid the subject, walking away, continuing to aggressively pack a bag of weapons.

“Yes, we are. I’m a part of this team too. My shoulder is healing great and it’s not like I do much field work anyway. I’ll stay in the van! Why can’t I go?” You ask again, following him.

“Because you’re more than I’m willing to lose!” Adrian snaps. You stare at Adrian in shock. You don’t know what to think about that statement, but you don’t want him to go without you.

“Kid, he’s right-“ Chris starts.

“When have you ever agreed with him?!” You turn to look at Chris.

“Look, kid-“ You cut him off.

“I’m a grown adult don’t treat me like a fucking child.” You snap. You feel bad. You know he’s not calling you a child when he says that, but you just got so angry. You’re not even angry. You’re just scared. You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think you need to be on this mission. It’s not a big deal. It should be easy peasy. Just let us get in, take care of it, and get out. Nobody thinks any less of you, we just think you don’t need to worry about it.” Leota tries to reason with you.

“I updated the coms and there’s trackers inside now. You can watch them at all times no matter how far away you are and I’ll loop you in if we need anything.” John promises.

“Please,” Adrian takes a deep breath. “Please stay here with Harcourt.” He begs.

“Okay.” You say flatly.

“Okay?” Adrian is relieved.

“Yeah. I’ll stay.” You weren’t happy about it.

“Thank you.” He sighs, hugging you before going to help load the van. “It’ll be okay.”

“You know he’s just trying to protect you right?” Harcourt asks once they’re gone.

“I know.” You sigh. “I just don’t like not being there in case he needs me. You and I both know how reckless he is sometimes, especially when someone’s really pissed him off.”

“He’s gonna be okay. He’s an idiot, but he’s practically indestructible.”

“I know. It’s just the practically part that scares me.” You watch the computer closely, trying not to think of all the what ifs.

“You really love him don’t you?” She asks as you stalk the coms tracker.

“Is it that obvious?” You give a dry laugh.

“Yeah, but if it helps I’m pretty sure it’s mutual. If I didn’t know you two, I’d assume you were dating.” You look at her in disbelief.

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Chase doesn’t look at me like that.” She smiles at you in an effort to make you feel better. Moments like this were rare with Emilia. You would consider her your friend, but you didn’t often get to talk with her like this.

“Leota said the same thing.” You smile.

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe Adebayo and I are right? We all see it.”

“Really?” You question.

“Yes. Why haven’t you told him yet?” She asks.

“I don’t have the best track record with people I like. I tend to get rejected far more than anything else and I’ve lost friends because of it. Our friendship means too much to me to change it or lose it because I couldn’t keep my feelings to myself.” You sigh.

“Something tells me he feels pretty similarly.”

“Why won’t he just tell me? Why do I have to tell him?”

“I think he’s been trying to tell you, but doesn’t know how far is too far with boundaries. He’s probably just as scared to lose you. I don’t know why you can’t see that. You can read him better than anyone else. It’s like you two are the twins from the fucking Shinning.” You laugh at her comparison.

The joy doesn’t last long. Suddenly the trackers start to go offline. “What the fuck is happening?” You try to refrain from freaking out. Harcourt picks up her phone, making a call.

“John, why did they all just go offline?” She has him on speaker phone.

“I don’t know, but the last thing I heard before they went out was that they think we might have underestimated how many people are involved.” He seems nervous.

“Fuck!” You let out a nervous yelp.

“Can you see their last known location?” Harcourt asks. You nod, showing her your screen.

“Get in the car.” She says, packing up her weapons. You pack your computer equipment, speeding off with Harcourt to meet up with Economos. You stare out the windshield silently.

“They’re gonna be okay.” She says.

“They fucking better be…I- I never told him…” Your voice trails off.

“You’ll get to tell him. If the night doesn’t end with you and Chase cuddled up on the couch ranting about your weird fucking nerd shows and making gross kissy faces at each other then I’m gonna kill every fucking mobster in this goddamn city until I find our team.” She says, gripping the steering wheel.

You see the van and you park alongside it, hoping in.

“Thank god you’re here.” Economos lets out a sigh of relief. As Harcourt and Economos devise a plan you start to get ready to head out into the field.

“What are you doing?” John asks.

“I’m going out there and neither of you are fucking stopping me this time.”

“Chase wouldn’t like this.” Harcourt starts.

“Well Adrian isn’t fucking here. I’m getting him back.” You head out and she follows you.

“Fine, but I’m leading.” She walks ahead of you with her gun drawn into the building their coms went out in.

“John, I think we figured out why we were only ever able to see one guy in this building…” Harcourt trailed off, staring into the entrance to the cave. “It looks like their operations are mostly underground. I think they took over an old butterfly base.” She guesses.

“Are we sure they aren’t butterflies?” He questions.

“I don’t seen an excess amount of amber fluid anywhere and they’d have to have it stock piled because the cow is dead now. There’s only a couple jars. They need so much to survive. It’s their only food source.” You remind him.

“We’re going into the tunnel. I’m not sure if this will cut off our signal or not.” Harcourt informs him before you start climbing down. There are multiple rooms. The first one you reach seems to be a meeting room for operations. You start reading papers on the tables. Harcourt was a solider. She was used to this, but analyzing was your job. You could actually do a lot of helping with this part. Your eyes start to water as you stare at the papers. “What?” She looks at you, sensing your discomfort.

“They’re not butterflies. They’re trying to become butterflies. We need to find the others they’re in a lot of fucking danger right now.” You say, starting to grow panicked looking at the failed experiments before you, records of trials done to turn humans into super soldiers with the strength of butterflies without being alien. They were using the amber fluid they found at the abandoned Glen Tai factory, but it wasn’t enough. They needed more data on the butterfly DNA. That’s what Jack was stealing from your laptop.

“What the fuck do you mean become butterflies?” She was confused.

“That’s what he needed from me. He wanted the data on the butterfly DNA that I had stored on my laptop.”

“Well aren’t you smarter than I gave you credit for?” You heard a voice you never wanted to hear again from the doorway. Harcourt drew her gun. “I’ve got your little boyfriend locked up and being prepped for trials as we speak.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You try to remain calm.

“Oh that’s right. You just wish he was. That’s why you went out with me…because he doesn’t love you. You know, I didn’t expect to have to shoot you.” He shrugs. “Not in the street at least. I was hoping you’d invite me in so we didn’t have to make a scene, but you’re still saving yourself for that idiot.” He laughs at you.

“What do you want, Jack?” You cringe, thinking of the night.

“I’ve already got everything I want. I have my data. I have more test subjects. I even have you right where I want you.”

“What are you talking about?” You ask as Harcourt scans the room. She watches as more men come around the corner with guns. She’s trying to plan an exist strategy.

“I hate to admit it, but I need your help. You can help me or you can try and fail to save the guy that’s been leading you on for a year to the point where you stopped dating completely. I may not love you, but at least I’m not leading you on.”

You look at Harcourt and see she has a plan before you make your next move.

“Sure because asking me out on a date only just to shoot me and rob me isn’t leading me on at all.” You laugh. You shoot him and Harcourt takes out the other men. “What was it you said to me? You thought this way would be more fun? I hope you’re having fun, Jack.” He isn’t dead yet, but you know he’s not getting up anytime soon. “Watch him I’m going to find the others.” You start to run out the door.

“Since when do I take orders from you?!” Harcourt yells after you.

“Please?” You ask more nicely, popping your head through the door again.

“Go.” She smiles. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get up and nobody gets away with these documents.” You smile back at her before running out the door and down the hall. You check every room, careful not to draw any unwanted attention in case anyone is left. Finally you open a door to see Chris.

“I’m glad you’re here, but your ex boyfriend is fucking crazy.” Chris jokes.

“He’s not my ex. Don’t call him that.”

“Did you bang?” He questions as you untie him.

“No, of course we didn’t!” You protest.

“Hey, don’t judge. One time I banged this chick and she had like crazy stamina. I thought she was just super into me, but turns out she was a butterfly.” You cringe.

“Oh my god please stop talking about your sex life for once and go find Leota!” You beg him.

“I’ll stop, but only because you’re getting upset because you don’t have one and I feel bad for you because you got shot.” You and Chris part ways before you can kill him to find the rest of your teammates. You open door after door until finally you find him.

“Adrian!” You run to him. He snaps his head up from it’s relaxed position to face you. He’s not wearing his mask. They must have ripped it off of him. He looks a little roughed up.

“No no no no what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” He starts to worry.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay. Everybody is okay. I shot him. I think we took out all his people.” You start untying him.

“You shot him?!” He’s surprised.

“Yeah…”

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” He gushes. You blush. “I mean I really wanted to shoot him, but I’m glad if anyone else did it, it was you.”

“I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want me down here. I know you were trying to protect me, but I couldn’t lose you.” You continue to work on his bindings.

“I couldn’t lose you either.” You finish untying the last knot and he shakes the ropes off.

“No, Adrian, you don’t understand. I think I’d die if I lost you. Like-“ You pause, sighing. “I can’t keep pretending like I didn’t hear you say you loved me that night in the hospital and- and if you said that just because you thought I was gonna die….” You pause taking a deep breath. “You can take it back- if you meant it just as friends you can take it back, but I can’t keep pretending like it didn’t happen. I can’t write it off as drugs or sleep deprivation anymore. I don’t want to! I love you! I love you and I’m saying it sober and of my own free will because I need you to know and god I hope I’m not gonna fuck up our friendship by saying this, but I need you to know I love you and- and you said that I’m more than you’re willing to lose, well…if I lost you I’d lose everything… Okay?” He stared at you. You started to grow nervous. “Please say something…”

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He laughs, pulling you into his arms, kissing you.

“I didn’t want to go out with Jack. I’ve had feelings for you this whole time. That’s why I never dated anyone. I had started giving up hope of you liking me back so I decided going on a date was the only way to try to get over you.”

“This whole time I was worried about getting rejected or crossing your boundaries. You’re the only person who gets me and laughs at my jokes and is always nice to me. Chris told me I would creep you out and you’d ditch me. I should have just said something. I’m so sorry, (Y/N).”

“It’s okay, Ade. It doesn’t matter anymore.” You kiss him again.

“I can’t believe you shot him.” He laughs. “The motherfucker deserved it, but I bet he didn’t expect it.”

“I didn’t even expect it.” You laugh.

“Well I’m proud of you and I actually think that’s super cool and sexy of you.” He smirks.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, babe.” He kisses you again. You break off the kiss when you hear Leota and Chris’ voices from the doorway.

“You owe me 20 bucks.” She laughs.

Harcourt drove Jack to Belle Reve in her car while the rest of you took the van back to headquarters. You all laughed and danced to music, but this time it was different. You felt stronger. You were more confident now. Not only did you now have a successful relationship starting with Adrian’s arm around you as John drove, but you were also leaving a mission where you’d taken down a notorious criminal doing human trials on an alien drug that shouldn’t exist.

Things were finally starting to fall into place. Things were changing around here for the better. You knew the team would grow and change, you just thought it would be when they added more muscle to the team. You didn’t realize you were the muscle the team needed all along. After all, the heart is the most important muscle in the human body. Love is where you found your strength; through your friends, through Adrian, and through yourself.

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