#but if you think something is wrong bully your doctor into looking into for you

[hyunjinsjeans]

Winter Madness (Han x Reader)

Summary: trying to take things slow with Chan after a certain conversation turns into a weekend getaway to remember.

Type: Fluff 🧸, SFW 👍

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, mentions of health issues.

Word count: 1992 Words

Related: He Knows (Han ver.)

Masterlist Here

AN: This fic is a part 2 to Han’s version of the He Knows Series. It can also be read as a stand alone. This one is not as horny as Bangchan’s version hehe, I wanted more Hannie fluff, so here we are! Enjoy!

You did not struggle to get pregnant, after all the worrying Jisung did for you, it turned out to be a simple task. As simple as simply having unprotected sex a few times. Jisung had been incredibly overprotective from the moment you came home with the lab results. You were supposed to wait until your doctor’s appointment, but the two of you just had to take a little look at the papers in the envelope. 

There was one single line that indicated “pregnancy” and after the long line of dots the next word would either be “negative” or “positive”, in black bold ink your result was “positive”. Han was worried sick, those first few months he would lose sleep over your aches and symptoms. 

You went through nothing special, but to Han it was all his fault. He would sometimes let his anxiety take the wheel. Fortunately, there was a big tour to get through while their baby grew healthy in your belly. You did not stop working until your stomach was so big you could not sit comfortably at your desk, by which point you were almost at full term. 

You were excited to tag along with Han and some of the boys on a short weekend to Busan, I.N was excited to have everyone with him in his hometown as his girlfriend tagged along too for the first time. You did not think much about it, packing and leaving thinking how you were programmed for a c-section in three weeks time. 

Of course, things never go quite as planned. You were taking a walk down the cold streets of Busan with Felix and his girlfriend while Han got bullied by Seungmin ahead of you when you felt something cool and wet on your leg. You stopped with a frown and looked down, the couple besides you took notice and Felix!Reader passed her little girl to Felix as she turned to you and asked if you needed to use the bathroom. You shook your head and then tried to look down, asking her why she was asking. 

“Y/N… there’s a poodle… are you okay? Did your water break?!” 

And that was the moment the penny dropped, right as I.N and his girlfriend reached you, you touched your stomach and nodded. 

There was a little bit of chaos after that. From the youngest in the group figuring out where the nearest hospital was in order to take you, to Han frantically trying to reach your obgyn on the phone. You were happy to at least have the girls with you, Innie’s girlfriend was a nurse and knew a thing or two, she helped quite a bit keeping you comfortable while Felix!Reader tried to remember all the breathing exercises from when she gave birth. Felix and Seungmin entertained themselves by keeping Felix’s girls occupied. 

You were not expecting all the planning you had spent months working on, to be useless. 

You ended up giving birth naturally in a hospital in Busan while on a weekend getaway. Han was beyond anxious at the prospect of something going wrong because you did not know the doctors here. He had to trust everything would be okay and in the end it was. Han held your hand the entire time, speaking words of encouragement and kissing your sweaty forehead whenever you looked too tired to go on. He kept his nerves to himself the best you had ever seen him do, sitting strong next to you, being the support you needed and more.  At around 9:00 p.m. you had a beautiful baby girl. Born only a few days before Christmas, your baby was small and healthy, crying loudly the second she came out. You cried along with Han, his eyes comically wide as the doctor announced it was a girl. Both of you were expecting a boy, but it was in the air as your baby just did not cooperate during scans. 

“It’s a girl!” He kissed the back of your hand, “we have a girl!” 

You laughed with your eyes closed and your head lying against the pillow, too tired to react any other way. “Is she okay?” 

Han was able to cut the umbilical cord and took a glance at his daughter in the safe hands of one of the nurses.

“Babe,” he brushed your hair back, “you did great, our baby is perfect.”

While the doctor and nurses got your baby clean one of the nurses asked if you had decided on a name for her, so they could put it on the bracelets. You looked up at Han, both of you lost for words, you had decided on a boy name. It felt like suddenly all the planning really was for nothing. Having to do a complete 180, you offered your husband a smile. 

“My nana’s name was Hae-rin. I feel it might suit her.”

Han’s eyes scan your face as he remembers your Nana, who passed a few months prior. She was a funny woman, it certainly felt empty going to your parent’s house after her passing. She was a bright lively woman, she could never stay still. Han could see what you meant. He nodded. 

“Haerin,” he kissed your knuckles. “That’s her name”. 

The nurse nodded and carefully wrote the name on the two bracelets, placing one around your wrist and then wrapping the other one around your babygirl’s tiny wrist too. After that, you were able to hold her. An exhausted smile on your face as you were handed the most delicate little thing in the world. You watched Han standing next to you, his hand coming to cup your daughter’s head as you held her into your chest. The two of you cried happily, finally meeting the little girl you spent the last year waiting for. 

Haerin was a beautiful little girl, she met her first two friends the following morning when the guys came to see her. Felix’s girls both entranced as they watched the baby sleep. You giggled as the girls ooh’ed at her in your arms. Felix!Reader held her eldest as she pointed out Haerin’s cute little nose, Felix kept his youngest’s hands at bay as she tried to touch the newborn baby girl. 

You were able to take her home a couple days later, Han had to stay at a hotel while the rest of the boys went back to Seoul to work. You spent that first week in the hotel in Busan, making the most of the surprise arrival of your little one. She was an angel, she cried little, although whenever she did it was loud. You and Han spent almost two hours in the bathroom with her the first time you gave her a bath. First struggle was getting her out of her onesie as she felt so fragile and delicate. The second struggle was being able to support Haerin’s head while bathing her. Han helped hold her, his hands seemed so big then that you two giggled at the sight. He was happy to pick her up out of the bathtub and wrap her in a soft towel, drenching the front of his shirt in the process. 

Luckily, you were back in Seoul after that one week. Entering your home again, this time as a family of three. Han grunted as he spotted your “birth bag” on the entryway. 

“We could have used that last week…” He pointed out as you entered behind him with Haerin in her brand new baby carrier. 

“I even got special pj’s for the hospital, socks, flip flops and a little blanket for her!” You pause, chuckling “well, it was blue, I thought we were having a boy!”

Han laughs, now looking at you with furrowed brows but a smile on his face. “Her entire room is for a boy…” 

You cover your face with your hand and smile, you walk into the home with your sleeping baby. “I hope she likes blue and bears…” 

You bring her into her room, setting the baby carrier down and pulling her out of it carefully. Han watches you as you pull her into your chest. He sighs, looking at the pastel pink bundle in your arms. The nursery was all baby blue and grey. Her crib was adorned with a white blanket and a couple of teddy bears, a single HanQuokka in the corner. 

“It’s okay, we can redo the room when she is a little bigger,” you said, knowing well that having your baby born so close to christmas was going to mean the two of you were going to be busy. 

Han was a top notch dad from day one, arriving home he was nothing less than a sweetheart to both you and your baby. He woke up in the middle of the night to change her diapers, helping you feed her and calm her down when she simply couldn’t sleep. He went to work but kept checking on you two; sending you messages or calling to ask if everything was okay. You could confidently say that Han was a wonderful dad. 

He also made an effort to talk to you, to ask about how you felt and open up about his worries. Whether he had work things or personal things in his mind, he told you about them at night when you got ready for bed, and he held you close whenever you needed a little cheering up. 

The one thing that you found the hardest about having a baby was the sudden rush of hormones that seemed to assault you that first month after giving birth. You loved your baby so much, you missed having her be a part of you… she felt so foreign in your arms, you felt like it was not right and you struggled with the anxiety of being unable to change it. Han helped you, listened and supported you; making sure you knew it was okay and it would be okay. He held her every chance he got, going as far as sitting quietly in the living room just holding her to spend time with her. And seeing this helped soothe your nerves a lot, it made your brain reason how important it was she was her own person. 

On Christmas you had Han’s parents visit, they met her and filled her with gifts and love. You saw the excitement in his mother’s face when she got to hold her for the first time. Haerin was already growing so much in just two weeks… Considering she was born a little early, she was doing fine. Growing and growing, eating well and beginning to take in her surroundings, showing how comfortable she was in Han’s and your own arms, quickly becoming picky about who got to hold her, she absolutely hated being in Han’s dad’s arms, and at best she tolerated his mom’s. 

“Oh, she just likes to be in her dad’s arms,” his mother commented once Haerin started crying and Han picked her up, holding her in his arms and calming her down. 

“Mom…” he tilted his head, “she probably just needs to get comfortable with you.” 

“No, no… babies know their parents,” his mother waved him off, “it’s natural. It’s okay, Jisung.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” you told your in-laws. “He spends most of his free time with her, he has basically turned himself into her bed.”

Han smiles sheepishly and his ears burn pink. “Well, she’s my baby! Of course I’ll hold her all I can!” He cradles her head softly, “she’s so small too… my baby girl…” 

You could tell that with a dad like Han, your little Haerin would be loved and cared for, she was going to live a good life being spoiled by her parents. She was going to be a daddy’s girl for sure as Han was already wrapped around her little finger. 

———

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[iliterallydecepticanteven]

I know asking a total stranger on tumblr is like... a pretty bad idea and all but no doctor ever said anything like that to me... So what was that thing you said in the tags about that one post? About craving salt and what it means? I have a reputation for craving salt to the point where others make fun of it (I'm cool with it though) but I just don't know why I crave it so much.

Okay so, huge disclaimer, I am not a medical professional, you are not my patient, take everything I say with a grain of salt (no pun intended). That said, salt cravings are a symptom in a bunch of different disorders, often relating to electrolyte imbalances, but not all the time.

Bratter's syndrome (which affects the kidneys) and Addison's disease (which affects the adrenal gland) and POTS (which affects the heart and vascular system) all cause major salt cravings in patients. That being said, one symptom doesn't mean you have that disease/syndrome/disorder. After all, fevers are a symptom of everything from sepsis to strep throat to encephalitis.

That being said, it could also be personal preference! If you're craving salt and don't notice any other bad symptoms then maybe your body just loves sodium. But if you are worried, set up an appointment with a primary care physician and ask for urine and blood tests. Those are really the only surefire way to know if something is up. I'd also start tracking water intake and urine color as well since those can also be good indicators of if something is wrong.

Again, I am not a doctor, I am just a fool with a science degree and you are an anon who asked for more info. Please refer to someone with actual medical knowledge about this, but I hope this helped shed some light on your need for salt!

[happiest-hotch]

i think you did one of there with spencer and it was cute so i was wondering if you'd write one for aaron, a full fic or blurb where Aaron guesses she (his gf) is pregnant before she guesses? thanks in advance

i'm glad you liked it !! it's the type of scene i love writing

Summary: basically as above, but they are married

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Fluff)

Content Warning: pregnancy (obviously)

Word Count: 1.5k

It's a quiet day at the BAU, and you and Aaron are in his office, having lunch together on the rare occasion you're not out on a case, there aren't any urgent consults, and he doesn't have a meeting.

He starts smirking when you complain about there not being enough pickles in your burger.

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change in demeanor.

He leans back in his chair, his hands clasping behind his head. "I don't know, honey. You've been acting kind of strange lately. Do you think it's possible that you're pregnant?"

You roll your eyes, playfully kicking him under the desk. "Haha, very funny, Aaron. You better watch your mouth." You say jokingly.

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm teasing, but if I'd take a bet on it. Seriously, you've been craving some weird foods lately, and if I was dumber, I'd say you were having some mood swings. Maybe you should take a test, just in case."

You shake your head, laughing at his persistence. "I highly doubt it. You know, with the birth control and all that? And you know it's a bad idea to offer me a bet." It might have been why he did it because you're both insanely competitive.

"Why don't we up the stakes?" He offers, the signature smirk that only you're privileged to lighting up his face.

You grin mischievously at him. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you know how the team bet on if we were dating?" He asks and you nod. "Let's include them. Only if you're comfortable." He's only joking, and you're so sure he's off the mark.

"A chance to show to prove your profiling skills wrong?" You ask with a giggle. "Derek would kill me if I didn't take it."

"You're on," Aaron says, holding out a hand to shake yours and make it official. "But when I'm right, you owe me."

You chuckle again. "Yeah? What will I owe you?"

He grins, his nose scrunching adorably as he thinks. "I'll get back to you about that."

You notice the team walking back in from lunch. "Let's do it."

Aaron and you walk out onto the landing, and he makes his announcement. "Conference room, everyone."

They look at you both with a high level of concern written on their faces, scurrying like something urgent has happened which, due to the nature of your jobs, is reasonable. "Don't use your Unit Chief voice." You scold, hitting him on the shoulder. "And don't even think about bullying anyone into agreeing with you."

"Deal, but you can't make it seem offensive for them to bet against you." He instructs.

"I won't." He assures you, placing a hand on your lower back and guiding you to the boardroom.

Penelope's jumpy when you two walk in and stand in front of the screen, not doing as well as everyone else to hide her worry. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." You tell them all quickly, but it's a message to Aaron as well: that although you're sure he's wrong, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

"Y/n's pregnant," Aaron announces.

You hit him on the shoulder, quickly speaking before everyone jumps up to hug you and offer congratulations. "That's just what he thinks." You say.

Even Spencer had a puzzled look, but Derek verbalizes their thoughts. "What?"

"We're betting," Aaron explains. "I think she's pregnant, she thinks she's not, so like you all bet on whether we were dating or not, we thought you might like to bet on this."

For everyone who has known him longer than you have, it's astonishing to see Aaron so open with his personal life, but you bring the playful side out in him.

The bets are in, more in favor of you, although the doctor of the team bets against you which is a little worrying. Of course, Spencer isn't a medical doctor, but he knows more about pregnancy than even JJ, who has been pregnant.

"So when do we get the results?" Derek wonders.

"Right now?" You offer. "Well as soon as I go get a test."

Aaron shakes his head beside you. "No, no way. I want it to be just us because it's going to be a special moment."

You roll your eyes at him. "Okay, but you're not coming in the bathroom while I pee on a stick." You inform him.

"We'll see." He settles, looking at you fondly before dropping the smile reserved for you when he looks back at the team. "Let's get back to work."

Aaron stops at a drug store on the way home, determined and cemented in his position as he buys three boxes of pregnancy tests.

"I don't have enough pee for all of these." You inform him when you're getting ready for bed that night.

He opens each of the boxes, handing you one of each. "Get your cute butt in there." He directs.

"I'm not taking this for you." You remind him with a smirk. "I'm taking it to prove you wrong."

"So, for me then?" He jokes, chuckling at you.

You're not really sure why you are taking the test. Of course, it's gotten to be a bigger idea with the team's involvement, but now that you're doing it, you're kind of hoping you lose. The excitement engulfing you is a shock, but it's so unlikely that you don't want to give in to the delusion.

"Are you okay?" Aaron taps on the door after you've been in there more than a reasonable amount of time.

You open the door, trying to keep a calm facade, and welcome him in, handing over the capped tests and sitting on the counter.

"You actually want this, don't you?" He profiles within a second.

It's an annoying trait of his when it shows up in your personal life, but sometimes you are glad since you're feeling like you don't have all the words. "It just threw me." You admit. "I didn't realize that I do feel ready until today."

His face drops in an instant, guilt sinking in. "I'm sorry I pushed so hard." He says very apologetically, a hand going to his forehead. "And I got the team involved."

"It's alright." You soothe, taking his hand in yours. "It's not like we can't just make a baby once we know."

Aaron nods, a cheeky smile taking over his face. "I'll give you a baby if that's the prize you want for winning the bet."

"Did you figure out what you want?" You wonder. "If you're right."

He thinks about it for another moment. "Baby or not, I can't think of anything else I need in life." His hand rests on your thigh delicately. "Ready to look?"

You shake your head, the nerves overwhelming you. "Let's not bother. We can go not knowing."

Aaron chuckles, shaking his head. "We both know we can't." He doesn't give you much more of a choice, figuratively tearing the bandaid off as he flips over the test. He's usually so good at keeping his face neutral, having had years of practice, but he doesn't. Not in your tender moment where his eyes go glassy, and he grins broadly. "Mrs. Hotchner, congratulations, you're pregnant."

"Oh, my god." Your hand clamps over your mouth in shock, but you quickly tear it away to take the test from him, needing to see it to believe it. "We're going to have a baby?"

"Yes, we are." He answers.

"I can't believe you realized before I did." You chuckle. Without a doubt, it's going to become a story that frequently gets retold.

Aaron leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His warm hand rests on your lower stomach, and it suddenly feels very real. "I know you that well." He reminds you. "But I will still be collecting my betting money."

You giggle at him. "I would."

It's probably clear to the team when you and Aaron are late for work, the team likely assuming you're at the doctor's office. The team is already waiting in the conference room, Rossi waving you two in.

"So, who won?" JJ wonders, struggling to curb her enthusiasm.

You share a quick smile with your husband that no one can decipher if you're gloating about winning. "Fortunately... Aaron." You inform them.

Penelope grabs you in a hug first, and you're sure she's crying. Then you're passed around the team for more hugs, sharing delighted looks with Aaron between receiving congratulations.

He's the last person to wrap you in a hug, holding you tightly to his chest. "You're so incredible." He whispers to you. "And I was thinking we could get lobster rolls with my prize money for dinner."

You quickly pull back, shaking your head. "That thought makes me feel nauseous."

His mouth drops before he quickly recovers. "Alright, pickles it is."

You're in your own little world with him until Derek gets your attention. "So, when do we get to bet if it's a boy or girl?"

[exhaslo]

Can you do a small fluff fic where miguel and Rabbit reader finally get their baby?

Miguel's heart would melt when he sees his child for the first time and probably cries a lot out of happiness.

Yessssssssssssh, this one might be a little short compared to the others!

Pt1, PT2, PT3 <<<smut

Warning: None, just fluff

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The day you found out you were pregnant was one of the happiest days of your life!

Both you and Miguel had been trying for a while now to have a baby. Now that dream was finally going to be a reality. Unable to hide your glee, you hurried to Miguel's office to share the news with your loving husband.

With your rabbit speed, you made it in no time. Miguel was spooked as you entered in a hurry. His first thought thinking that your heat was acting up again.

"Nope~ Won't be having those for a while~" You chirped, nearly jumping in place.

Miguel held your waist as he gave you a curious look. His hands stroking your cheek before finally putting two and two together. The light in his eyes sparkled brightly as he lifted you in the air before giving you a deep kiss.

"I'm going to be a Father!"

"Hehe, and I'm going to be a Mom~" You squealed.

The two of you rejoiced and shared the news to close family and friends, well, Miguel's close family and friends.

As your pregnancy furthered, Miguel proved to be an even more loving husband and soon-to-be Father. He cared for your every whim, making sure you had everything you needed.

Miguel got you the best doctor since you were a hybrid, and even hired a trusted maid to help you when he wasn't there. Every craving you had, Miguel got for you. Every small complaint you muttered, Miguel fixed for you.

Everything to make you comfortable.

By the time you were in your third trimester, things got a little difficult for you. You felt like crying every second of the day because you wanted to go somewhere or eat something, but you physically could not do it.

The pregnancy had made you bedridden for rest. Miguel tried his best to comfort you and get you things to entertain you with, but it didn't help much. You wanted to move around and do things, not lay in bed.

All laying in bed was doing was making your mind wander. Like what would happen if your baby had ears and a tail like you? Would they be bullied by other kids? Should they just be home schooled, but then what about friends?

What if someone tried to kidnap your child? Just thinking about what you went through brought tears to your eyes. You didn't want your baby to go through what you did. You wanted them to have a better life, an easier one.

"Baby? Oh, baby, don't cry. What's wrong?" Miguel asked as he entered the room with some snacks.

"M-Miggy, what...what if our baby looks like me?"

"Like you?" Miguel stroked your cheek, knowing where this was going, "Then they would be the most perfect child in the whole world. I would love nothing more than our child to have your genes."

"B-But...But what if-"

"(Y/n), nothing will happen to our baby, I promise. I will go to hell and back to protect both you and our child."

Sniffing towards his words, you started to feel better. Thanking Miguel, you happily took the snacks and enjoyed him company.

------

When it was finally time for you to give birth, Miguel was starting to lose his cool. He wanted to make sure that everything was perfect for your procedure. Miguel wanted to make sure that the doctors were careful with your tail.

Holding your hand as you cried out in pain, Miguel gulped as you squeezed tightly. Your cries hurt. Miguel didn't want you to be in pain, but at the same time...you were giving birth to his baby.

"Just one more push!" The doctor said.

Miguel watched as the nurses struggled to hold you up slightly while you cried out. With one more push, you started to pant heavily as cries filled the room. The doctor finished his side and glanced towards the two of you,

"Congrats. It's a baby boy,"

"You did it, baby." Miguel kissed your head as you rested, "You did so good."

"I....I want to see...our baby," You whispered.

Miguel nodded as the doctor came over, handing the child to you. You laughed, finally holding the child that you carried for nine months. They were still whimpering before nuzzling into your embrace.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you looked towards Miguel, giving him a kiss.

"He looks like you," You said with a laugh. Miguel stroked your head,

"Look, he has your eyes." He whispered.

You just smiled towards Miguel. The doctor took your baby to clean up while you rested. Finally. You and Miguel finally had a baby.

"What will you two name him?" One of the nurses asked. Miguel stroked your head as you started to fall asleep,

"Gabriel."

-------

After three years, both you and Miguel had another child. Miguel teasingly told you that Gabriel needed a sibling. You agreed of course, and to your surprise, the second child came out more like you.

It was worrisome, but Miguel reassured you that everything was going to be fine. Not only did your daughter have both you and him to watcher over her, but also a big brother.

"Awe, I wan bers li mama," Gabriel babbled, pointing towards his sister's ears.

"You have momma's speed and agility. You are perfect just the way you are," Miguel chuckled, picking up his son, "You're going to have to protect your sister because of her ears and tail, okay?"

"Kay,"

"Hehe, Miggy, he's too young." You giggled. Miguel scoffed as he wrapped his arm around you,

"Do you think the next one will have a tail and no ears or visa versa?" Miguel said with a chuckle.

You felt your face burn up, trying to hide your smile.

"Ask me again during my heat."

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Hope you enjoyed~~

[ajaxless]

Doctor Harper being like...The "grown up" version of Kylar. Got sent to the psych ward for being a little too silly (went yandere) and hypnotized everyone into letting him out. Could you fucking imagine how scary that would be to be his (former?) Darling?

Harper as your dweeb classmate. Always has his nose tucked in a book, usually shows up to school with bruises, you can't tell if it's from his home life or from the bullies. You end up taking pity on the poor guy and get into the habit of taking him to the nurse at school to get him ice packs and bandaids. Over time Harper comes out of that quiet and polite facade and brags to anyone that will listen that the two of you are lovers. Except, no, you're not, you never would have agreed to such a thing. Sure, it's sweet that he walks you to each and every class you have and insists on carrying your books, but you never saw him in that light. You were just being kind! He got the wrong idea.

So, when Harper makes you lunch after you forgot yours at home, you don't think twice about it, typical Harper! Harper babbles on about how he's been studying how to become a doctor. That way, you two won't have to rely on the nurse. Maybe you could be his nurse? You could stay by his side all day while he works and dote on him as his lovely assistant!

Unfortunately for you, you don't get to correct him because the drugs he slipped in knocked you out before he could finish. Harper mumbles something about skipping the chapter on sedatives in his textbook and drags you home. Nobody thinks twice to stop him, most people don't even notice him.

Cue basement scene similar to Kylar's, except Harper is less paranoid and panicked. I think he'd just be delusional and convinced that the two of you are together. Defiant! Darling could resist him and snap him out of the delusional state, only to send him into a fit of anger. Submissive / compliant! Darling goes along with it out of pity / fear.

Here are some things I imagine when being abducted by Harper

He never yells and constantly refers to you by a pet name and never your actual name.

When you deny him, he probably just ignores it or smiles at you while pretending you said something else. Creepy bastard will respond out loud to an imaginary conversation he had with you. Example: Harper tries to feed you, and you spit food in his face, only for him to grin and say that he thinks the food tastes good too, then thanks you for sharing. Says things like "I love you too" even when you didn't actually say anything. If you point out that you didn't say anything, he just gives you a funny look like you're the crazy one here.

Harper doesn't think other people are going to hurt you / take you away and he doesn't want to keep you safe. I think he'd hurt you on purpose just so he can take care of you like you used to at school. That and out of revenge for being rejected. He doesn't feel threatened by other people because he's delusional and convinced it wouldn't be possible for you to like anyone else

Harper absolutely tries gaslighting you so he can be the "sane" boyfriend that takes care of you. You're just crazy, ahaha, your memory is soooo terrible. Thats not how it happened. Harper never said that. Have you been taking your medicine?

That Kylar event where they pull a knife to your throat, but this time it's just Harper showing off a new needle that may or may not contain an aphrodisiac. He might just have to "test" to see what's in the syringe. I mean, unless you can convince him not to inject you by having sex with him. Either way, You're going to get fucked. With or without the aphrodisiac is up to you.

Harper's cooking is actually good. Made specifically to be healthy and have all the vitamins and nutrients you need. Only downside is he sometimes spits in the food :( might even do it right in front of you and then laughs it off. Says it's like indirectly kissing you and it's no big deal, he always does this and has been since you let him make you lunches at school. Hearing this is ++stress

Harper doesn't write you songs, instead he makes poetry. You can't read the poems, his handwriting is terrible. (Haha, get it? Cus he's a doctor?)

Forced cuddle sessions, I can feel it. Also a messy kisser. Drools everywhere and giggles the entire time. I think Harper is a humper, cums in his pants all the time

There are two ways to escape:

Resist Harper enough until he gets frustrated and tries to get manipulate you into behaving by guilt tripping you. Harper injures himself in a minor way and insists you take care of him like you used to at school, telling you to go upstairs and get ice from his freezer...Only for you to bolt out the front door instead

Or by screaming until the neighbors hear and the cops come to investigate. Screaming only works at night, and you have to do it five times in a row when given the ability to do it. This sucks because it makes you lose a turn, and you can't resist Harper whichs lead to being noncon encounter

Either way, by the end of it Harper gets arrested. He abducted you and had a lab that made stimulants / pepper spray / sedatives and kept stealing ingredients from the pharmacy downtown. Either they determine he's insane or he goes to court and pleads not guilty by insanity.

You go a few years without seeing or hearing from him, believing he'll rot in jail forever and move on with your life. Then you find out your doctor retired and have to head to the hospital to fill out paperwork to change who your primary doctor should be, and wouldn't you know it? Harper's name is one of the options. Obviously, you don't want him to be your new doctor, but either way, he just forges the paperwork and makes you his patient.

You get called in for an appointment per usual, expecting a new doctor and Harper walks in with that stupid smile while clutching a clipboard with your medical history on it. You try to resist, but a bunch of nurses come in and restrain you and tie you to the table with leather straps that were hidden under the mattress. The entire time Harper just watches with a smile.

I think Harper would immediately confess that he's not a real doctor. He never went to school or graduated. He would've, but you got him arrested. He starts bragging about how he hypnotized your old doctor and took his place to escape, then realized he had a lot of authority and began doing whatever he wanted. Shortly after, he discovered that you still lived in town and jumped on the opportunity to get you back.

There's no harm in telling you this. Because who would believe you? You're crazy.

"Scream as much as you like, my love. The neighbors won't hear you this time."

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

It’s Me

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Castiel

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: after an incident with a school bully, you’re hospitalized and end up with amnesia

It wasn’t that bad. You could handle it. You’d be gone in a few weeks anyway.

This was the mantra you repeated to yourself every morning as you stepped out of the Impala, waved goodbye to Dean, and entered the school.

You had to repeat it to yourself, because otherwise you’d give in and tell your big brothers everything, and let them take care of it.

You told yourself over and over that you wouldn’t do that this time; you shouldn’t need them to save you every time something went wrong. Besides, it was just a bunch of high school bullies. What was the worst they could do?

You were about to find out the answer to that question the hard way.

…

“I told you to hand it over!”

You looked around for a teacher, or any sort of help, but there was no one.

Three upper classmen had you cornered, and you knew you couldn’t take them all. But you’d also been raised by John, Dean, and Sam Winchester, so when the biggest one demanded that you hand over every dollar you had—which wasn’t that much to begin with—you couldn’t help but jut out your jaw and stare defiantly up at him.

“You deaf?” You cringed as he shoved you and the back of your head slammed against the locker.

“I heard you,” you shoved his hands away from you.

“And?” He stood there expectantly, proudly. You glared at him. He really thought he’d won this? You didn’t break so easily.

“And screw you.”

Not exactly the cleverest comeback, but anything to portray your contempt to this animal would do. It did the trick. Perhaps too well.

“What’d you say to me?”

That angry growl was the last thing you heard before you were slammed backwards into the lockers, and everything went dark.

…

“She’s waking up!”

A deep voice thrummed in your ears as you blinked your eyes open, the bright lights making you squint.

“Hey sweetie,” you looked up to see a blond man staring down at you, his green eyes scanning your face.

“Hi…” you glanced around the small room and saw another man, tall with brown hair, staring at you too. “Are you a doctor?” The men didn’t look like doctors, but you couldn’t think of another reason for them to be here.

“What?” The dark-haired man stepped closer to your bed, a frown contorting his features. “Y/N it’s us.”

“Yeah baby, it’s Dean,” the blond man insisted, and you stared at them blankly.

Y/N? Dean? The names floated around the edges of your brain, and you tried to grab hold of them. You knew those names, yet you didn’t.

“I don’t understand,” you finally admitted. “I-I mean…I don’t recognize you.”

The boys shared a meaningful glance, and the blond one—Dean—left, stopping outside your door to talk to a doctor.

“Honey, it’s…it’s Sam,” the dark haired man looked down at you. “You don’t recognize me?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Who are you?”

“I-“ Sam opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed, then spoke. “I-I’m your big brother.”

“What about-“ you gestured to Dean.

“Yeah, him too,” Sam was staring at you incredulously. “You really don’t-“

“Hello,” the doctor stepped into the room, followed by Dean. “I’ve heard we have a bit of a problem in here.”

“I don’t remember,” your voice came out small. Everything felt so overwhelming; the bright lights, the heart monitor beeping, the two men—strangers—who seemed to know you.

“What don’t you remember?” The doctor asked gently. You thought about it.

“Anything.”

…

The doctor discharged you that night, since physically you were recovered, even if you still didn’t remember anything. He’d said that once the trauma wore off a bit, and your head recovered with some more rest, the memories should begin to resurface.

The boys weren’t so sure, and needless to say that terrified them.

“This is ours,” Sam gestured to the Impala when he noticed you glancing around the parking lot helplessly.

You nodded wordlessly and slid into the backseat while the boys got in the front.

After a minute, Dean spoke, directing his words to Sam.

“We should try for Cas. He can help her.”

“Um, Dean, maybe we should wait,” Sam glanced back nervously at you, and you frowned.

“Who’s Cas?”

“Our angel friend, he’s gonna help you remember.” Sam’s head jerked in Dean’s direction.

“Dean!”

“Your…I don’t understand.”

“Hey Cas!” Dean suddenly called out. “We need some help down here, it’s Y/N.”

Silence.

“What was supposed to happen?” You asked hesitantly. Was this guy insane?

“You’ll see when he decides to come,” Dean promised.

“Dean-“

“Ah, here we are,” Dean cut off Sam as he pulled the Impala into a motel parking lot.

“Where are we?” You directed your question to Sam as Dean stepped out of the car.

“A motel,” he answered awkwardly.

“Don’t we have a house?”

“Nope,” was Dean’s response as he opened your door, gesturing for you to get out.

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Sam jumped in. “I’m sure you want to get some rest.”

“Is it my night?” Dean asked, referring to the arrangement the brothers had of switching who had to share a bed with you.

“I’m taking the couch,” Sam announced. “She can have the bed.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Can you fit on that thing?”

“Um…what’s this?” You asked as you lifted the gun that you’d seen sticking out from under your pillow.

“It’s yours,” Dean told you. “You keep it there for protection. Even though I’ve told you a million times that I’ve got one so you don’t need one,” he added this last part under his breath, but you still heard it.

“P-protection from what?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“Dean, can I talk to you alone?” Sam jumped in, not waiting for a response as he dragged Dean outside.

“What?” Dean asked.

“What? Are you insane?” Sam hissed.

“What are you talking about? The doctor said to treat her as we normally would, and that’s what I’m doing.”

“You’re terrifying her is what you’re doing! Dean she’s just a kid.”

“A kid? Dude, it’s Y/N.”

“Yeah, Y/N without any memories of monsters, or the family business, or-or why there’s a freaking gun under her pillow!”

“Look, she’s going to remember sooner or later, and then she’ll understand all of this, I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

“The big deal is that she’s not herself right now, and we have no clue when she’s getting her memories back,” Sam insisted. “So we can’t just pretend like nothing is wrong! You can’t start talking to Cas, or any of the other things that are going to make her thing we’re insane.”

“She’s going to remember,” Dean’s voice had gone quieter, but no less resolved.

“Of course she is,” Sam amended, realization hitting him. “I’m not saying she won’t. But we need to be patient with her; if we scare her off, it’s going to be harder to get her to trust us. It’s going to be a million times harder for her to remember if she’s not comfortable around us.”

“I just don’t know what else to do,” Dean admitted. “I don’t know how to talk her her. I mean, it’s her, but it’s not her. I can’t talk to her like she’s some stranger.”

“You don’t have to,” Sam promised. “Just…just try to leave out the monsters. And the angels while you’re at it.”

“I’ll try,” Dean agreed reluctantly. “But Cas better come through soon, because we can’t keep this from her for long.”

“You called?”

Both boys’ heads swung in the direction of the angel’s voice.

“Hello Sam and Dean,” Castiel greeted. “I heard you needed help.”

…

Sam was surprised when he opened the motel door to see you in the midst of walking out. You were going so fast that you slammed into him, and he brought up his hands to steady you.

“Whoa, hey, where you going?” He asked, frowning when he noticed your eyes darting wildly around with panic. “Are you ok?”

Sam noticed Dean looking over your shoulder, and he did the same, inwardly groaning when he noticed the cause of your distress. You’d opened one of their duffels, and their array of weapons was splayed out on one of the beds.

“Hey,” Sam spoke softly, trying to bring down your terror. “I-I know that that looks freaky, but we-“

“This is insane!” You pulled out of his reach and attempted to run, but Dean grabbed you around the waist and lifted you off the ground, carrying you back into the motel room.

“Cas, get in here,” he demanded, and Cas obeyed, looking more than a little confused.

“What’s going on?” He questioned. “I thought you said she needed help.”

“She hit her head,” Sam explained, “She doesn’t remember anything.”

“No wonder she’s terrified,” Castiel said. “You’re frightening to people who don’t know you.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Let go!” You made your presence known by kicking Dean hard in the leg, and he grunted but kept his hold on you.

“Alright, take it easy!” He held you at arms length, your back to the wall. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

“What’s going on?” You demanded. “Are you guys even my brothers?”

Dean’s body went rigid. He stared down at you, trying to push away the ache in his heart.

“Of course we are,” his voice had gone quiet, and desperation tinged his tone. “Of course we’re your brothers. Baby it’s Dean, you can trust me.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice quavered, and he swallowed hard. “Cas, do it.”

“Who is that?” Your panic returned when Cas advanced on you, and you started to struggle in Dean’s arms. “Who is he? What is-what is he doing?”

“Just be still,” Dean said.

“Let me go! Cut it out!” Cas didn’t even flinch when you launched a kick at his shin.

“Baby we’re trying to help you, please just trust me.”

“I can’t trust you!” You yelled in response to Dean’s plea. “I don’t even know you!”

“Yes you do,” Dean’s green eyes overtook the whole of your vision when he leaned closer to you. “Somewhere in there, you know who we are. It’s me, it’s Dean. I know you’re scared, ok? I know you don’t understand. But just look at me, ok? It’s me, you can trust me.”

And you did. Impossibly, inexplicably, you looked into those dark green eyes and felt only safety, only comfort, even when he was currently holding you against a wall while a strange man in a trench coat approached you with his hand outstretched.

You didn’t fight it, allowing the man to place to fingers on your head, all the while keeping your gaze completely on those eyes.

The eyes of your big brother.

A soft glow came from the man’s fingers, and suddenly it felt as though a filter was being removed from your eyes.

You blinked. Those green eyes were still right there, but you saw them a little differently now.

“Dean?” You whispered.

A relieved smile broke out on his face.

“Hey baby.”

“Dean!” He staggered back a half-step when you threw yourself into his arms. Sam’s soft laughter could be heard behind him, and you pulled away from Dean to hug your other brother.

“It’s good to have you back,” he said, his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“And you remember everything?” Cas asked, wanting to be sure it worked completely.

You grinned, “Everything.” As soon as you pulled away from Sam, Dean pulled you in for another embrace and you laughed. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up,” he said.

But he didn’t let go.

[mamayan]

Okay imagine this - (you don't have to do it, you can delete this if it makes you uncomfy, I love you and you have done nothing wrong ever) - but IMAGINE okay?

Bakugo Katsuki, The Dynamight, number two hero, and his child with you is quirkless (bonus if reader is also quirkless)

Imagine the disappointed ambition - he was so sure the kid would inherit his quirk or something similar, he was so sure - especially since the kid looks like Katsuki - and yet...

I guess I'm in mood for hurt-comfort 😔

Honestly, I see this affecting our dearest mama here, as it’s likely for Katsuki to really fall for someone after being a bully/jerk to them.

Imagine his quirkless sweetheart, desperate to please and impress at all times because they’re just useless without a quirk (thanks to his bullying in the past) and realizing their child inherited their quirkless gene?

Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugo x Quirkless Fem! Reader!

Growing Pains

cw: SFW • Language (R) • Hurt/Comfort • Bully to Lovers • Child Care (tis the season) • Pro-Hero Katsuki • Fem! Reader • Marriage • Katsuki learns how to communicate a little better

A child is a gift so precious one must always be careful never to forsake it.

That’s what his hag-mother always said at least. The endless joy though which his daughter brought truly lived up to her words though. A gift. A precious, incredibly tiny and fragile, gift he swore to never forsake as he held the bundle in his arms at the hospital.

You looked beautiful even after so long in labor. Joy painting your features and making his heart ache from the sugar being injected into his veins. The love and adoration in your eyes only making his resolve harden further, to protect you both and love you two till his last breath.

So what changed from that moment till now? As a normally happy rambunctious toddler sits in complete stillness with eyes wide in horror. You didn’t look any better, skin perspiration more than his own on a usual day, lip being chewed until the skin breaks and he’s forced to grip you tightly.

“Hey—,” his gruff voice wakes you up.

“I’m so sorry…” his brows furrow in confusion, your apology unexpected and odd.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” He feels the atmosphere in the room start to divulge, his child and you both acting as if you’d heard a cancer diagnosis and not something he’d already considered the possibility of. Of course he’d wanted his daughter to have a quirk, but it didn’t call for such a grave reaction.

“It’s all my fault… I’m so sorry baby…” the tears freak him out more, your tears flowing endlessly as you stare at him with such hopeless eyes he’s startled to his core. Dark garnet eyes widening as a sick feeling enters his gut, something churning he can’t even name. “I failed both you and our daughter, making her weak and worthless like me—,” He’s going to be sick for sure, the sterile little clinic room starting close in on him.

He’s Dynamight, number 2 pro hero, and only because shit for brains Deku was better with the media but still, he’s not sure what to do. How to fix it, as you hold your child and cry, asking for forgiveness from him.

It makes him remember every instance of the past he cringes and does his best to avoid thinking on. Every tug of your hair, every shove to the floor, every time he made you feel small for something so superficial as not having a quirk.

Your tears were endless, and they seemed to spur on his daughter as well, her little sniffles making him nearly enraged as the door creeks open at the worst moment and the doctor returns.

The woman’s sympathetic gaze make him want to punch her, the way she seems understanding and not offended as himself.

“It can be a hard acceptance Mrs. Bakugo, I’m happy to recommend some quirkless support groups for the two of you, then we can look at some family care plans—,”

“What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about? Support group? They don’t need a fucking support group, your raggedy ass bitch—!”

“Katsuki!” “Mr. Bakugo?!” “Papa?”

It didn’t matter, he wasn’t hearing words anymore, top blown and his tempter unleashed as he nearly blows the door off after throwing you both over his shoulder and storming out. Cursing the entire way, uncaring of the phones being pulled out and people whispering and recording. He’d get an earful from the agency but it hardly computed in his mind.

Your fault? It seemed clear enough it was his fault. When all he ever did was make you feel belittled for your quirklessness, small and weak because of it, and now what did it do?

It passed on to his own fucking kid. His fault. This was his fucking fault.

His own eyes were admittedly wet as he shuts you both up in the car. Making sure you both are buckled in safely before he nearly screams once he’s seated behind the wheel. He wants to scream more, yell and break something to deal with the flood of guilt and shame washing him like an old friend.

He never apologized, only pushed it all away like the bullying and harassment never occurred when he started courting you. He’d been in love with you, and that bullying was his sick revenge for making him feel so much adoration for a single individual.

His frame engulfs the seat, muscles taunt and wide chest heaving as he calms down slowly to your silent tears and wobbly bottom lip.

“Katsuki… can we not have any discussions with her in the car…? Maybe we…,” you lick your lips as you fumble over yourself like a nervous wreck in the passenger seat, eyes wide and pacifying as you give him a look filled with a plea. “—Maybe we could have her stay with your mother tonight?”

Because you think he’s angry at you and at her.

For being quirkless.

The most defenseless and precious people to him, the two he’d sworn to never hurt or mistreat, now looking at him with complete devastation and heartbreak. His daughter is never usually so silent and still, sitting like a little doll in her car seat.

He’d always been a confident man. Unshakeable and firm in his resolve because he refused to settle and let himself be anything less than the best.

For all he is though, he’s never felt more helpless and human.

You flinch when the first tear falls.

The sight just as jarring as the realization your child is like you.

Katsuki’s eyes widen before narrowing as he grits his teeth and bares them like a hurt animal, tears spilling as he slams his head on the steering wheel in frustration. The windows tinted and thankfully adding a touch of privacy he’s grateful for now.

“I’m sorry—!” It’s wobbly and hissed like a curse, his apology burning his throat as he forces it out. He can’t look at you as he wipes at his face, shaking his head as he clears it to focus long enough to repeat himself.

“I’m so fucking sorry—never, never did I think less of you ‘cuz you didn’t have a damn quirk—! I was an asshole, a piece of shit that didn’t know how to deal with my crush on you, so I fucking ruined it by picking on you.” His eyes are blood shot, kept wide to prevent anymore liquid spillage but the way his entire face and body scrunch up, it’s difficult to believe he’s able to stop himself on sheer will alone.

“Papa…?” It’s like a slap to the face when he looks over at his daughter to see a spitting image of you both in her, features more like him but personality following you in a way that makes him melt.

“Y’listen good,” he gathers himself up better as he addresses your daughter now. “You will never be less than anyone else, quirk or no quirk, y’hear me?”

“But—,”

“No buts. It’s not up for debate. A quirk doesn’t classify a person’s value. It never has. We just associate them with power when in fact, a bunch of useless quirk havin’ shit stains run the country. A quirk ain’t power kid, power is in will, and that’s all you.” He’s glad you kindly dismiss his slip in language, watching as her little eyes widen and well with tears too.

“So I’m not bad?”

“You’re the best damn thing that’s happened since I met your mom. I love your mom, don’t I? She’s great even if she doesn’t have a quirk. Strong and resilient, patient and smarter than I’ll ever be.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight it may break soon if he doesn’t release his grip.

Then he’s being met with you. Your arms wrapping around him, your own muffled cries in his shirt. His hands are around you just as quickly, pulling you into him as much as the small space in the vehicle allows, breathing you in and calming himself as he reaches out and unbuckles your daughter to pull her little body into the bear hug too.

“You mean it…?” Your whisper barely audible as he holds you both close.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

And that’s enough for this moment. While he’s not a great man, Katsuki truly never lies, sometimes honest to a point it’s painful.

This is a bittersweet pain though.

Dividers/ @cafekitsune

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 11

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I'm just tryna get through the week.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The waiting room is excruciating. You find yourself standing more than you sit. Both are torture. Your concern mounts with your discomfort and the more you think of Hansen’s response. He’s a demanding asshole, he told you several times he takes what he wants, but today, he let you go. Even he could see something was seriously wrong.

Funny how you never dread the doctor so much when you’re there for Simone or Malik, but for yourself, it makes your insides knot. You can’t even think of the last time you made an appointment for yourself. That’s probably not good either.

As the doctor examines you and goes over your symptoms, you wince and struggle not to keel over. He’s patient and gentle, treatment you’re unused to. That stray realisation is even grimmer as it sticks in your head.

“Hmm, I’m going to be optimistic and say it’s a bruised tailbone,” he explains, “we can send you for imaging to check for a fracture but it wouldn’t likely be possible today. I’ll call the lab with a request, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” you lean on the examination table, “so what does that mean? Painkillers? Stretches?”

“Rest,” he points at you with his gold pen, “avoid sitting. You want to keep pressure off the tailbone. Lay on your stomach when you sleep.” He tucks his pen in his coat pocket and goes to the cabinet in the corner by the sink, “you’ll want to keep this handy.” He opens the door and slips out a box, “it’ll help.”

As he gives you the box, you consider the image of the donut cushion on the front. The inflatable seat is stuffed into the tight package. You’re not unfamiliar with it.

“Apply ice. Every twenty minutes for the next two days, then two to three times a day should work,” he takes his pen out and his little pad, writing as he talks. “Make your husband do some of the chores.”

You cringe. You nod as you accept his advice. You were just about to argue; you have two kids and a job.

“I’m writing you a note. You’re not working for a week at least. I’ll fax a letter that should be acceptable for the time-off,” he rips off the top page and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you utter again as you look at his chicken scratch. “What is this?”

“Something for the pain and something for your blood pressure.”

“My blood pressure?”

“Your readings are elevated. It could be stress, it could be anything. Right now, I want you to keep track. Measure it and write it down. Come back in a month so we can go over the numbers.”

“Is it that bad?”

“At your age, it’s not entirely unusual,” he assures you, “better we catch it before it’s too serious. You get headaches? Feel tired?”

“Well, I have kids, I’m always tired and yes, they give me headaches sometimes,” you shrug.

“How often do the headaches come?”

“I don’t know, sometimes two or three times a week.”

“Do you have a history of migraines?”

“Not since college,” you answer.

“Ah,” he nods. “Take the pills, icy your tailbone, and stay in bed.”

“Doctor,” you go to argue.

“If it isn’t already a break, you’ll make it one,” he girds, “the lab will call you about your imaging appointment.”

You swallow down his orders. They’re much easier to follow than Hansen’s. And surely better for you. You thank him once more and leave the room, stopping by the counter to give your work address and get your imaging paperwork.

As you get to the car, you unpack the cushion and use the little pump to inflate it. You drop it on the seat and get in. It still hurts like a bitch but not intolerable. You sit behind the wheel and stare. 

You could cry as you go over the appointment. Is it that obvious that you don’t take care of yourself? That you don’t have time? The doctor saw right through you and that brings it all flooding in. You’re barely holding it all together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

You make yourself start the car and pull out of the lot. You go down to the pharmacy and turn in the script, wandering the aisles as you wait for it to be filled. You take out your phone to check the time. A missed call from Pete and another from Hansen. You don’t have the energy for either of them. Once you have your meds, you have to get the kids.

You claim your prescriptions and start your race against time. Waiting to see the doctor alone took up the bulk of your day. Now you have to get through the rest.

You nearly speed up to the curb of the school, at the tail end of the pick-up as the clock ticks on. You roll around as you see Simone and Malik waiting with Mrs. Guinness. You roll down the window and wave, thanking her loudly as the kids rush to the car.

You get out to strap Malik into his seat as Simone grips her book in her lap but doesn’t open it. You’re breathing loudly as the pain coils around your spine. You muffle it and give her a smile as she watches you. Her eyes dart to the front seat.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“Good,” you say as you snap the buckles together.

“What’s that for?” She points to the cushion.

“The seat’s uncomfortable,” you grunt and push yourself out of the back door. 

You shut the door and get in the front. You settle in, clicking in your own belt and fix your mirror. Simone is smart, too smart. She’s quiet as you shift into drive.

“Mommy, mommy! We played a game today–”

“Shh,” Simone interjects, silencing her brother, “mom,” she utter tenuously, “are you pregnant?”

You nearly scoff as you grip the wheel tight. You laugh and shake your head. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well…” she lets her thoughts hang in the air before she speaks to them, “you and dad have been… arguing and you have that cushion.”

“Trust me, I’m too old,” you shake your head, “don’t worry, you won’t be having another little brother.”

“Oh,” she hums, disappointed, “I was hoping for a sister.”

You take a breath. It’s all so complicated but some of it isn’t. They’re going to know sooner than later.

“Look, the cushion is because I hurt myself. I was waiting until we got home to tell you but I fell and hit my bum pretty bad. Got some bruising is all,” you explain lightly, “doctor says I’m good, just need to rest.”

“Mommy’s hurt?” Malik babbles. 

“Oh,” Simone accepts again, “I… does dad know?”

“He’s been working but I’m gonna give him a call,” you fight to keep your tone steady, “he’s gonna have to come home and help me out a bit.”

“Mommy, you can have Donny, he’ll make you feel better.”

“Mal, she doesn’t want your stupid dragon.”

“Sim,” you rebuff, “don’t be mean. Malik, you can bring Donny in to snuggle with me, okay? That’s really nice of you.”

“Ugh,” Simone huffs and you see her roll her eyes in the rear view.

“Sim, do you have enough time between chapters to help with dinner?” You tease. She doesn’t answer. “Oh, don’t worry, I can manage some mac and cheese on my own.”

You flip on the radio and let the music waft through the car, trying to push away the other worries. You are going to have to call Pete but you really don’t know how much help he’s going to be.

🗄️

You pull into the driveway and repress a groan. You’re really starting to feel it. Your legs are numb yet painful. You push yourself out of the car and grab your purse and the cushion, your keys jingling loudly in your hand.

You open the back door but Simone’s too quick. She’s right beside you, waving you off.

“I’ll get him out,” she insists, “the doctor said.”

“I know what the doctor said,” you chuckle, “thanks, Sim.”

Another car door snaps shut from somewhere unseen. You don’t think much of it as other neighbours often get home at the same time. You wait patiently for your daughter to unbuckle Malik as he squirms impatiently.

“About damn time,” the timbre roils in the air hotly.

You almost let a ‘shit’ slip through your lips as Hansen’s voice makes you tense. You squeeze the cushion and look over Simone’s head at him. She lifts Malik down onto the ground and she turns to face your uninvited guest.

“Ew, it’s him,” she sneers.

“Nice to see you too, toots,” he struts up the walk with his hands in his pockets, “isn’t this sweet? Got the whole clan together.”

“What are you doing here?” Simone challenges.

He tilts his head, brows arching, “you know, maybe I should give your mom some time off so she can teach you some manners.”

“Hansen,” you put your hand on Simone’s shoulder and sidle past her and echo the same question, “what are you doing here?”

“I’m actually being a good guy,” he leans around, speaking to Simone pointedly, “not evil at all. Checking in since I sent you off to the hospital.”

You hesitate. That’s not exactly believable. You know why he’s here; to taunt you. At least he has the discretion to try to hide that from your children.

“Bruised tailbone, doctor is sending a letter, I’ll have to take a few days off to recover,” you say cautiously, knowing he won’t like the news.

“A few days…” he mulls with a sour expression, “bullsh–” he stops himself as Malik comes for to cling to your leg, peeking out from behind you.

“Mommy,” your son whines, “I wanna go inside.”

“Tell him to go away,” Simone hisses.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hansen, I gotta get the kids inside and make dinner–”

“You can do all that but you can’t drag your –behind– to work,” he challenges.

“I have a doctor’s note–”

“I don’t f–” he struggles to censor himself, stopping as he waves off his agitation. He exhales and wipes the frustration from his face, “you’re right. You’re in bad shape, it’s plain to see. So where’s the husband? Shouldn't he be here doing the heavy lifting?”

“My dad’s on his way home,” Simone insists.

“Yeah, he’ll be here soon,” you repeat her lie, “to help.”

“Well, he ain’t,” Hansen bounces on his feet, “but I am, so why don’t I help you out, huh? We need you back to work,” he reaches for your purse, latching onto the strap. “So you should rest.”

“Dude, go,” Simone snarls and pushes his arm.

“Hey,” he growls back at her. “I’m helping.”

“We don’t want your help. She’s not at work, you don’t boss her around here.”

“Simone, Mr. Hansen,” you snip, “please.”

“I’m being a nice guy,” Lloyd retracts his hand and throws it up, “she’s the one making this hard.”

You look at your daughter as she sticks her tongue out.

“She’s twelve,” you state.

“Yeah, and what are you? Sixty?” Simone accuses him.

He recoils, his lashes batting violently, “excuse me?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh, “Simone, take your brother inside,” you hold your keys out, “let me talk to him. It’s just work.”

“And the doctor said–”

“Please, Simone, thank you,” you shake the keys.

She sniffs and takes them. She blows a raspberry at Hansen as she grabs Malik and tears him away from your legs. You rub your neck, the donut cushion around your elbow, as you wait, staring at Hansen as he watches over your shoulder.

“Why?” You ask pointedly.

“What? I’m being good. I let you see a doctor for your fucked up booty and now I’m just tryna fill the hole left by that deadbeat–”

“Not in front of my kids,” you say.

“I was polite.”

“You are arguing with a twelve year old,” you shake your head, “please, I will do my best to get back to work. I know you don’t give a shit but I’m in so much pain, I can’t handle this right now. So please, go.”

“Huh, alright, let’s understand something here, you might be a little broken at the moment but you don’t tell me what to do,” he snarls, “that’s the first thing. Second, you put a muzzle on that daughter–”

“Don’t,” you warn.

“That mouth,” he points in your face, “it’s the ass that’s bruised, not that.”

You clamp your lips tight as your nostrils flare. You stand in a deadlock, silently glaring back at your boss. You feel the tension ready to snap. This is the moment where you could fuck everything up.

Neither of you speak, each measuring your next word but almost afraid to say it. A screech of tires veers in behind your car and fills the end of the driveway. You flinch and look past Hansen as Pete’s garish sports car beams back at you.

“Just in time,” Hansen mutters as he turns slowly.

Pete hops out and swings the door shut, almost frantic as his hair flops forward.

“Hey, I’ve been calling,” he puffs and stops short as he notices Hansen, “uh, everything okay? Where… are the kids?”

“Inside,” you eke out, clearing the frog from your throat, “everything is good, alright?” You try to convince yourself as much as your husband, “Mr. Hansen was just checking in. I missed work today. I went to see the doctor about… my fall.”

Pete blanches and nods, giving a guilty glance to his leather shoes.

“Yeah?” He dares to look at you, “you okay?”

“Bruised,” you answer bluntly, “so I was just telling Mr. Hansen that I am fine. I just need a few days to rest. And I was going to call to tell you the same but I had to get the kids.”

“Your wife’s a busy woman,” Hansen interjects, “hard worker. And she speaks so highly of you, bud.” He claps Pete’s shoulder, “you’re a businessman?”

Pete twitches, as if surprised. He looks at Hansen’s grasp on his shoulder but doesn’t shove it off. There’s a moment of recognition in his eye. Men and their ‘business’.

“Yeah, I run a fitness agency. We do equipment and training, aiming to get into the big leagues, you know, furnish facilities on the National scale,” Pete goes into his pitch.

“Ah, fitness, thriving right now,” Hansen slips easily into his role, “you know, I’m not wearing Louis Vuittons because I work in a dipshit office. I invest and I do it well.” He pulls his hand back and puts it on his hip, “why don’t you tell me more about this agency? I’m intrigued.”

You just stare. This has been an awful, painful day and it just won’t end.

“Uh, yeah, sure, come on in,” Pete sputters excitedly, waving him up the drive. “I got all my stuff in my bag.”

“Great, dinner’s on me,” Hansen offers, “for your time.”

“Oh, awesome,” Pete grins, “I’ll just get my bag out of the car. Honey,” he turns to you.

“Uh, yeah,” you swallow as Hansen faces you with a smirk, “right this way.”

You turn and hug the cushion against your stomach, each step tender and tingling. You sense him behind you, too close for comfort. He snickers quietly as you get to the door. You stop with your hand on the handle.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Be good and I will be, too,” he shoots back.

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 4

You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.

The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he���s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.

You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.

“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”

“It’s weird!”

“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”

“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”

“Can I do it at your clinic?”

“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”

“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”

“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”

For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.

It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.

There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?

It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?

Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.

“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.

When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”

“I’m not – whole.”

That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”

He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”

“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”

The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”

The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”

The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”

“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”

“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”

“Which hero?”

The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”

You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”

“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”

Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”

The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.

By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”

“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”

“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”

“No,” Kurogiri says.

“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”

“No.”

“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”

“No, I need you right now!”

“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.

You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”

“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”

“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”

The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.

The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.

You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”

“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”

The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”

Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”

“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”

“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”

You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.

You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”

Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.

Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.

Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.

The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.

Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”

The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”

“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”

You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”

So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.

A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”

If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”

“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.

“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”

You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”

“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”

Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.

You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.

Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”

“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”

“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”

You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.

It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”

“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”

Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”

He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”

“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”

“Which heroes do you talk about?”

“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”

“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.

“Like I said. Nasty.”

You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –

“You look weird.”

You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”

“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”

Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”

“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”

You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”

It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”

It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”

“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”

“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?

You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.

But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.

Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?

“So how was the date?”

The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then why were you on a date with one?”

“He asked.”

“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”

You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.

“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”

Your jaw drops. “You remember?”

“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”

Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.

“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”

You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?

You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”

The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.

[bunnydol]

welcome home, slut

whitney the bully x fem!afab!reader

contents: semi-public, whitney is a bully, hair pulling, mention of cigarette burning, masochism (f!receiving), piv, spanking, degradation (slut, whore), spit, inspection (f!receiving), ask to tag

w/c: ~2.2k

from the cottage: hey hun, you've been out here at the farm for some time now, did you even tell anyone you were out here? i have a feeling someone's lookin' for you...

++Lust ++Jealousy

three months.

it had been three months since the last time you had come to classes. 

prior to this rebellious stint of yours, your only other absences were when you had disappeared because of bailey, and disappeared during one of the blood moons and needed to see that creepy doctor in the hospital to feel better.

but this… this was different.

that friday, whitney had clearly remembered the lewd look on your face when he yanked you off of the sidewalk to put a cigarette out on your arm. your eyes had crossed and you had even moaned a little before he shoved you to the floor and laughed at your pathetic nature.

it was normal. an almost comically average interaction. nothing you weren’t used to.

and yet, you had disappeared. 

it had rained that sunday after, he remembered. and you didn’t come to annoy him at the park like you always did. 

he should’ve known something was possibly wrong, but he didn’t think of it.

every day you weren’t in math class felt like he was the guilty party in your absence, the one who drove you away.

he wasn’t, it was almost definitely a problem that you had gotten yourself into, but still… something was eating at him.

it was about to be three months and one day until the door to river’s classroom swung open five minutes late, and in you walked, calm and steady as ever.

what the fuck?

you looked… cleaner. stronger, somehow. you looked as though you had been successfully roughing it for the past three months, like you had spent a majority of your time outdoors. you skin was practically glowing, your arms bulkier, your thighs plush. you even looked well-fed.

where had you been?

whitney was blinded by his anger, his body moving on his own as he got up and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you right back up out of your chair. you yelped, kicking and squirming and trying to push him off of you, but his grip just tightened as he tugged you right out of the classroom and into the now empty hallway.

river protested, shouting something down the hall at him as he dragged you along, but whitney ignored him in favor of tossing you into the nearest empty classroom and slamming the door shut.

“welcome back, slut,” he snarled at your cowering form, standing over where you were on the floor, sniffling and wiping at your eyes. mascara was trailing down them you could barely afford anything before, let alone makeup.

“where the fuck have you been, huh? probably showing yourself off at some strip club far away to make a buck. is that it? left to be a camgirl?”

he kicked one of your legs to shove them apart, standing in the space between your knees that he had created for himself as he towered over you.

you shook your head, still trying to gather yourself from being tugged down the hallway by your hair. “i-i got a job, on the farm-”

“a job on a farm? really now?”

“y-yes! i’m h-helping rebuild the farm, get it in working order- alex needs a lot of help, i didn’t realize-”

“i bet he’s fuckin’ you, whoever this alex is.” whitney growled as he stomped his foot down next to your left arm, making you jolt. “i bet you just spread your legs so he could fuck you like an animal while you forget about the rest of us back here in the city. how fuckin’ dare you run off like that.”

you stammered as you looked up at him, sitting up on your elbows as your lip wobbled. “i- i’m sorry, i didn’t realize how long i was away for, i’d work and work and be too tired to walk home, i can’t ride horses yet-”

“‘m sure you know how to ride cock just fine, though, am i right?”

“whitney!” you blurted out, trying to get him to stop talking so you could finish a sentence, “i didn’t have sex with him! i got caught up, i-i missed you!”

now that, whitney hadn’t been expecting. he was maybe expecting your normal demeanor, your normal protests and cries of pain and i’m sorry’s, but not i missed you.

something sickening crawled up his spine as he stood over you and crouched down, bringing his face up close to yours. his fringe hung down; you could see both of his eyes, dark and looming, so clearly. 

“say that again, slut.”

“i said i missed you, i’m sorry, i missed you while i was gone, i didn’t have sex with him, please believe me…” you were starting to really cry now, lifting yourself up as much as you could before wrapping your arms around his neck to try and hug him.

and, well, he allowed that, not reciprocating, for all of maybe thirty seconds. he caught the scent of a foreign shampoo in your hair; you’d been staying somewhere other than the orphanage. probably on that farm. probably with him, whoever he was.

he grabbed your shoulders tight and shoved you back down onto the floor, away from him, listening to you gasp with surprise at the action. he grunted as he shifted positions oh so easily, backing off of you only to throw you onto your stomach and hoist your hips up with his hands on your waist. 

you yelped in reply, your cheek hitting the cold tile floor a little hard, pain blossoming under your eye. you braced yourself on your hands as your hips were dragged up into the air. “wait, whitney, i-”

“say it again, slut. tell me you missed me. say it again, ‘cause i still don’t believe you.” he grunted down at you, grabbing the hem of your skirt roughly and flipping it up to reveal that you weren’t even wearing panties, something he had demanded you do months ago. you were still obedient to him, it seems. “whore like you still not wearing panties? do you want to get fucked like this?”

“whitney, please,” you simpered, squirming under him and trying to find grip on the tile floor as his calloused fingers danced over your folds. you could feel the heat between your thighs, how your body instinctively unfurled for him; it was a pavlovian response to being underneath him as he barked and bit at you like a dog. your folds started to glisten with your juices as his thumbs hooked around your pussy lips to spread them apart. he glared down at your clenching hole as if studying the way you were getting soaked from his inspection before pooling a thick glob of spit between his lips and letting it drip down onto your cunt.

you gasped at the feeling and shuddered; you’d barely been touched outside of being thrown to the floor and manhandled, but you were already so receptive to him.

“fucking whore, already fucking wet f’ me. say it again, tell me who you missed and maybe i’ll give you this cock.” as he spoke, he let go of one of your hips to undo his belt buckle, letting the cold metal hit your thigh as he worked on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants.

“you!” you immediately started to warble, like a bird in a cage, “i missed you! missed you s’ much, i didn’t let him touch me, i promise-”

“you just let him buy stuff for you huh? your makeup’s running, you never wear makeup.” he leaned his body over your back, his chest hot to the touch as he brushed his chapped lips over your ear. “did you let him make you into a little farmer’s wife, huh?”

“i didn’t! whitney, please, i didn’t! i got it for you!” you were bleating at him like a lamb, and the confession made his cheeks grow hot. he was suddenly glad he had you face down rather than on your back. “bought it for me? wow, what an attention seeker,” he snarled against your ear, and yet the fat head of his cock was slipping through your folds with a shlick, shlick sound. 

you felt yourself thrusting back against it, trying to get him inside. “please, missed you s’ much, whit, please- inside-”

“i guess you proved it. maybe i should give you a reminder of what you were missin’ out on while you were away.” he growled a little, unable to hide how he really felt about your absence as he sat up from your back and guided the wet, leaky tip of his cock into your spit-soaked hole. he hissed from the tightness; you cried out from the sudden sting. it wasn’t like he ever really prepped you to take his fat cock, but after being away from him for so long, it felt like the first time all over again.

tears ran down your cheeks as you bit down on your lip and whimpered, feeling him push himself in deeper despite your tight cunt clenching around him and almost forcing him out. he groaned as he watched the way you struggled to take him. “feels like you’re a virgin again, fuck, guess you didn’t get fucked, unless he was real small.” 

you moaned when you felt his hips connect with yours, your hands curling into fists. his hand found your hair again, winding it up to get a good grip as he yanked your head up off the floor and made you arch your back.

“now you’re gonna stay right here and fuckin’ take this cock like the whore you are. you need to be retrained.”

you sucked in a breath as he pulled his hips back, the veins of his cock dragging along your gummy walls, before he started to piston into you, his hand gripping your hip with a bruising pressure as he fucked you like you were an object.

the feeling made you see stars, crying out with a slack jaw. for a moment, you were in another world instead of on the classroom floor. your scalp ached but the pain sent fizzles of pleasure flying down your spine; the way his heavy balls slapped against your clit with each thrust had you clenching down around him.

whitney had the gall to breathe out a laugh as you gurgled on your own drool and tears, sobbing on his cock and drooling for more. “i know you fuckin’ missed being treated like a cocksleeve, huh? missed having this cock shoved down your throat? missed it in this tight little pussy? yeah? bet you couldn’t even cum on your own without me to help you, so fuckin’ needy and pathetic.”

he let out his own little moans as he tugged on your hair to get a better look at your fucked out expression, and the look on your dazed face made his cock jump inside of you. it spurred him on to fuck you harder as you moaned for him, your juices making a mess of the front of his slacks.

“whit- please, missed you- missed your cock, need to cum, wanna cum, please-”

“oh, you need to cum? poor thing.” he laughed down at you as his free hand came down hard on your ass, making you cry out from the sudden pain. you shook; you felt like you were teetering on the edge as his leaky tip pounded that spongy spot inside of you.

“gonna cum? gonna cream all on this dick that you missed so much? say it. say it again.”

“yes! yes, wanna cum on your cock, missed you, missed it, please let me cum-”

“fine, slut. make a mess of this fuckin’ cock, then.” he growled as he spanked you again and gripped the flesh of your ass.

you felt like you ascended into heaven for a brief moment, flashes of white sparking behind your eyes as your body jerked and pulled taut. you came, hard, your body spasming and jerking underneath where he was keeping you pressed to the floor.

he moaned against your back as he felt you tighten and spasm around his cock, a frothy ring of white forming at the base as he continued to bully his way deeper into your cunt. 

“that’s it, your pussy just missed me so much, bet nothin’ satisfied her like this.” he grumbled through his teeth before huffing out little ah, ah, ah’s until finally he jerked his hips a bit sloppier, and then he was cumming deep inside your cunt, barely moving so he could fuck it deeper into you. 

his forehead dropped against your shoulder blades as you both recovered, his hot breaths fanning out over your neck. you whimpered when he finally lifted away from you and pulled out, his cum dripping down your thighs. 

he grunted as he got to his feet and tucked himself away, brushing his sweaty fringe away from his forehead as he looked down at your trembling form.

“don’t you ever leave like that again, understood?”

you nodded vaguely, lip trembling before curling up into a smile. “i missed you.”whitney squinted down at you before turning his head away and tossing you some tissues from his back pocket. i missed you too, slut.

[morganbritton132]

Do you think Eddie and Steve have ever fallen victim to the weird trend of people calling the police to ‘save’ famous people? Like some fans of his tiktok became convinced Steve was holding him hostage after making 2+2=5 when they googled up Billy’s name

This is such an interesting question because I could see it going both ways.

There are always going to be people that look at Eddie and see wanted posters. There are people who will never be convinced that he didn’t commit those murders, and they’re only ever going to see a victim in Steve because of it.

Steve is clumsy. He has a head injury and issues with balance, and sometimes he gets confused. Sometimes he gets bruised. He’s cut his hand in the middle of a seizure and needed stitches. He’s broken his ankle and walked on it for an entire day.

Sometimes nurses and doctors see his injury and see his medical history, and then they see the scruffy guy calling himself his husband, and they ask him to step outside the room. They ask Steve questions and it always takes him a second to realize what they’re trying to get at because domestic abuse is not something that he can attach to Eddie in any capacity.

And Steve will get angry about it. How dare they think such a thing? How could they look at Eddie and see how much love he holds in his heart and think that he would ever hurt Steve?

 

I think that Eddie is always going to have some fans that see Steve as this bad guy that does not deserve to be with him. There is nothing that he will ever do that can change that. They are just angry that Eddie is with someone other than them.

I can definitely see them hearing about all the bad shit that went down in Hawkins and seeing Steve’s connection to some of it – The coverup story for Starcourt paints Robin and Steve as two dedicated retail employees that saved a bunch of children from a fire – and then take that extra step to twist it into something so much worse.

The kid that went missing in Hawkins in 1983 just so happened to be the little brother of the guy that stole Steve’s high school girlfriend? That’s interesting. That’s suspicious.

And his high school bully (that he apparently hit with a car!) just so happened to die in a fire at his place of work? Weird.

And despite the fact that the police and an angry mob couldn’t find Eddie, Steve Harrington – a video rental employee – happened to find him?

You pair the horror story that was Hawkins in the eighties up with Eddie’s scars and all the off-hand jokes people have made on live-streams about Steve’s sleepwalking, or with Steve’s reactions to being scared and you can make a convincing case for anything.

Eddie ends a live-stream early one night at Steve’s request and then an hour later, they’re getting a knock on the door by two police officers doing a welfare check.

Steve and Eddie are obviously confused, and Steve is really disheartened when one of the officers lets it slip that the person calling was concerned because of a live-stream.

It puts a damper on the date night he’d set up for them in the living room and he doesn’t really want to continue it after the cops leave. Eddie tries to find the bright side of the situation, “Babe, it’s nothing. It’s not like it’ll be in the papers.”

“They think I hurt you,” Steve says. “They – your fans think that I would – that I’d ever – and they’re not wrong, technically. I have hurt you before.”

“And I nearly cut your throat with a broken glass bottle,” Eddie replies, ignoring the way Steve scoffs at him. “Anything that you’ve ever done because you were confused or lost in your head, or sleepwalking doesn’t count. You weren’t all here and it’s not your fault if you aren’t aware of what you’re doing, right? And anyways, I’m typically bothering you.”

“You’re blaming yourself for me hurting you?”

“No, I’m – No. I’m not,” Eddie clarifies. “I am saying that I don’t always come into the situation knowing what’s going on and sometimes I make it worse. Sure, I’ve gotten a bit of a hit. You kick in your sleep. But you have never hurt me.”

“Is it El’s fault when the cabinets rattle when she has a nightmare?” Eddie continues because it’s clear that Steve does not agree with him. “Or that time she got so scared that all the lightbulbs shattered? You got cut when that happened, remember? You have a scar. Is that her fault?”

“That’s different. She can’t-“

“And neither can you,” Eddie says. “I’m telling you now, Stevie. You know what my life was like before I moved in with Wayne. I will never be in a situation like that again. So, if I was than I would not be here, but I am here because you have never done anything to hurt me, okay?”

[superblysubpar]

potentially very silly thought that’s been on my mind for forever so feel free to ignore! but stevie has glasses right? but he never wears them bc he doesn’t like how they look/doesn’t believe he really needs them (spoiler: he does). imagine dad!steve’s little baby comin back from the doctor and needing specs :( and his kid is all sad bc they think they’ll get bullied and that they look silly, but dad!steve puts on his like “see? glasses are cool, bud!” and they wear them together <3

dad!steve harrington x mom!fem! reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: steve's kiddo doesn't want to get glasses | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

1.7kwords

Spring, 1993:

Steve rubbed at his forehead as he stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stove. Grace had fought him for hours, screaming and crying and throwing toys at him. He knew that all she needed was a nap but she refused, insisted that she wasn’t tired and wailed with a set of lungs that gave her Uncle Eddie a run for their money. He’s used to headaches by now though - too many hits to the head over the years and what felt like a constant squint to see things clearer, toddler tantrums were nothing when it came to the things that caused him headaches. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted her to wake up anytime soon. So when the loud crack of the front door handle hitting the wall pulled him from his thoughts he rushed out of the kitchen, hushing loudly. Whisper-shouting to you and your oldest, “Hey, hey, Grace is finally asleep!”

Nora kicked the wall as she tried to take off her shoes and coat at the same time, a flourish and frenzy of tiny grunts and zippers clicking together. Yellow dots on her sneakers lighting up and the yellow of her rain coat a fast moving blur - yellow was the color, or so he’s been told repeatedly by her in the last two weeks. He looked past his yellow blob of movement to see you slowly following her up the steps, rubbing your temple. 

Oh boy.

Nora was six. Opinionated and strong and curious. Sometimes she shocked them with her big ideas and her logic-searching questions, but every once in a while they were reminded she was in fact, a kid. A tiny human with too big of feelings and not always the right words to describe them. Right now, he’d bet money on some very large feelings bubbling up inside of her, and he just didn’t know if he could handle another tantrum. Her brown curls a mess like she’d run her hands through them too many times (a habit you’ve pointed out she picked up from him before she could walk), her face flushed and her jaw clenched, tiny hands trying to get her coat off too quickly and a furrow between her brows when it wouldn’t cooperate. 

Steve bent down to her level, hands reaching out towards her, "Hey cutie, slow down. Let me help-"

"No! I can do it myself!" tiny hands forming fists and a fury behind her eyes that would be alarming if she wasn't so small and cute. This was another new development - dad yellow is the color of the moment and oh by the way I’m a big girl now. It’s a lot for a dad to wrap his head around. 

Steve raised his hands up in surrender, "Okay, sure."

As you closed the door softly, Steve looked up and mouthed, "What happened?"

You gestured to your eyes, forming glasses with your fingers as you mouthed the word at the same time. 

His brow furrowed because why in the world would she be so upset about glasses? Heart breaking that she’s obviously incredibly worked up about something that isn’t really an argument if she needs them. 

As she flung her coat to the ground and went to stomp around it he snaked his arm around her waist, "Oh no you don't,” she huffed and crossed her arms as he squeezed her waist, “Nora, what's wrong?"

"I don't want them!" she cried out, stomping her foot against his thigh as he stood up holding her.

Steve pushed a stray curl from her forehead, faking obliviousness, "Don't want what? You gotta catch dad up here."

Her chin wobbled as she looked anywhere but at his face and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How can she hate glasses so much? She’s six! 

Nora clings to his neck as he goes back to the kitchen, the heat turned down and stirring it once more as they sat in silence, her little huffs of frustration mixing with the bubbling sauce. He’d wait patiently until she wanted to tell him. You followed wordlessly behind, pulling down a cup for water and setting it across from him. Steve’s arm supported under her butt and he leaned against the counter to face you. 

Nora spoke finally, quietly and forced out of her pouting lips, "Glasses."

Steve rubbed her back with one hand, cheek resting on top of her head and sighed. She was way too big to hold like this anymore, and he missed it. 

"Baby, why don't you want glasses, huh? Lots of people wear glasses,” you questioned softly from your spot at the otherside of the counter. 

Nora mumbled into his neck, "Daddy doesn’t like them. People make fun of glasses."

Steve made eye contact with you over the top of her head, swallowing harshly and blinking away tears. A small and sad smile rested on your lips. You leaned your chin into your palm and sighed, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His heart dropped into his stomach as he set her down on the counter and cleared his throat, “I love my glasses, what are you talking about?”

Nora shook her head quickly, curls flying everywhere, a deep breath as crocodile tears fell down her cheeks. Voice wobbly and on the cusp of some big sobs ready to break as she spoke rushed and loudly, “No. No you do-n’t. Mommy, you, y-you told Mommy that…that…” she hiccuped but pushed on, “Losers wear glasses. And, and Jacob…hims said…he…people who wear glasses are weird and, and…”

As Nora kept going Steve clenched his fists against the counter. He’d take back any and every thought he’d had about glasses if he could. He could throw up from the guilt swirling in his stomach, that he was somehow a part of the reason his little girl was so worked up about something she needed. Something so tiny and materialistic. He’d fix this. He had to fix this. 

“Woah, woah, who’s this Jacob kid and what does he know, huh?” He kissed the top of her head, pushing curls from her face that clung to her wet cheeks.

“Jacob, daddy,” she sighed his name out, bored and exasperated like Steve should know while she hiccuped again.

Steve nodded, face serious as he snapped his fingers and you smiled from behind her, “Right, that Jacob. Okay, but babe, Jacob doesn’t know what he's talking about. He doesn't know the super special secret."

Nora's hands swiped at her cheeks, "Secret?"

Nodding he chucked the side of his knuckle under her chin and handed her the glass of water, "Super special secret."

Nora's eyes went wide above the rim of the cup and you bit the inside of your cheek as Steve nodded and leaned in, "Only people who wear glasses get to know the super special secret," he glanced at you, “Oh, and mommy’s.” 

"Tell me," Nora whined, fidgeting and tugging at his shirt.

"Well, the secret is, is that people who wear glasses are super duper crazy awesome. They can see better, like superhero vision,” the small white lies building as her smile grew and he spoke with his hands, “And because they can see better they can read faster and get smarter. They can see so good with their glasses that they can sneak into the kitchen in the dark for late night snacks and-"

You made a disgruntled noise from the back of your throat and shook your head, mouthing the word no, but tried to hide your smile. 

Steve grinned wider at you but Nora frowned, not buying it. Too smart for her own good as she countered, "But, daddy, you don't wear your glasses. And you said lose-"

"You're right, I did say that,” he bit the inside of his cheek and ran his hand through his hair before waving them around, “But that's because I didn't want anyone to know how cool the super special secret is. But now," he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "I can wear mine all the time because I'm not alone! We can be crazy awesome together."

"Really?" Nora looked up at him, wide eyed and hopeful and he had to blink back tears again. 

"Really, really," he brushed the last stray tear slipping down her cheek, "Go grab mine for me and we can head to the store and pick out yours together."

He lifted her and set her down and she raced away. Steve fell forward onto the counter, moaning as he pressed his forehead to the cold tile. 

He listened as you stood, holding his breath until he felt your arms wrapping around his waist. A kiss between his shoulder blades before he spun to face you. 

He pressed his nose into your cheek as you whispered, “Good job, dad.”

He huffed, not unsimilar to his daughter and mumbled, "I hate my glasses."

You hummed, running your hands up his back before speaking, "I love your glasses,” you laughed and kissed his jaw, voice laced with fake shock and wonder, “And why would you hate them? Didn't you hear the super special secret, Steve?"

Moved to your neck, he grumbled, "Ugh, I'm gonna punch that Jacob in the face."

A laugh bubbled out of you as you squeezed his waist, a kiss to his temple as you reminded him, "He's six, Steve."

"Right. Well. Maybe his dad then," he kissed your neck and removed himself as tiny feet raced back down the hall.

"Woah! You're right daddy! I can see crazy awesome!"

He stood up fully to see Nora zooming around the corner with his glasses on her face too big and dangerously close to falling completely off and you covered your smile with your hand.

He swiped the glasses from Nora and slid them up his own nose. Picking her up he smiled and asked, "Should we go pick out yours now?"

Nora nodded excitedly and bounced up and down once her feet were back on the floor, energy radiating off of her as he tied her shoes and zipped her coat. 

When they returned home, she nearly broke his arm, she was tugging so hard, "Mommy! Mommy! Look, look, look!"

You came around the corner holding his sleepy toddler and grinned, "Woah! Yellow! Crazy awesome!"

As he turned to close the door Nora beamed and shouted, "Daddy said the yellow was even more super special because yellow would help me see the cookies waay on the top shelf better."

Steve bit his lip as he spun to face you shaking your head, a smile twitching on your lips. He shrugged and stole Grace out of your arms with a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled, “Yellow is the best color, mom.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

[artificial-transmutations]

Bully to lover

"Yo, nerd, what's that around your neck?"

Samuel sighed. Jacob's mocking voice was loud and obnoxious, as it has always been.

"Did your mommy dress you with a ribbon today? A nice little girly ribbon?"

Jacob and Samuel had known each other since high school - and knowing each other meant, in this case, one constantly tormenting the other.

Samuel had hoped that after switching to college and, the bullying would stop, but he quickly learned that Jacob simply followed him there. Samuel wasn't sure why Jacob was always so cruel to him. He just liked to bully people, or so Samuel assumed. Maybe Samuel had done something wrong in a past life.

Against better judgment, he answered: "It's a bowtie. Bowties are cool." He added the last sentence although he knew fair well that the Doctor Who reference was completely lost on Jacob. He was a real meathead. To be honest, Samuel had no idea how he was able to get by in college. He had failed a lot, but somehow, he managed to not be expelled.

"You don't look cool. You look more like a girly boy." Jacob laughed.

Samuel hated that Jacob always tried to make him angry. His plan was to keep calm and wait until Jacob found someone else to annoy. However, that was a difficult feat, since Samuel was Jacob's most favorite victim. Usually, the hurtful comments focused quickly on Samuel's sexuality as well. He was openly gay and for some reason, which seemed to be a constant cause for harassment from Jacob's side. And that in the year 2023.

"Just go away." Samuel snapped at Jacob.

"Oh, so you think you can tell me what to do? You're a nobody. Don't you understand that yet?" Jacob grinned a superior grin at him. As usual, he was followed by a small flock of equally intelligent jocks that laughed at everything he said. Samuel didn't even look at them, keeping his eyes on Jacob's. He had no desire to get into a fight with him. He just wanted to be left in peace after all. Besides, he was sure that he would lose any fight against him.

"Maybe you need to be taught a lesson, nerd. How about a nice little dive in the toilet bowl? Or a night in the lockers?"

Both were no new experiences for Samuel, although, luckily, physical abuse had become rarer in college than it had been in high school. Still, the danger was real that Jacob would follow through with his threats if Samuel wasn't careful.

"That's a great idea, Jacob. I think I will go do just that." Samuel replied and turned around to get to his room. He had to be careful though. Jacob wouldn't let him leave without a fight.

"Ohhh. Is the little faggot afraid now? Are you running home to your mother?" Jacob mocked and his friends snickered.

"I don't want any trouble. I just want to get my things and go."

"Then why don't you? What are you waiting for?" Jacob said.

He didn't move from the spot, blocking Samuel's way. Samuel sighed. This was one of those days where the confrontation would get physical. He just wished that he would be stronger. Or, better yet, that Jacob and him just got along better.

Unbeknownst to Samuel, but beknownst to us, a sprite had listened in on the encounter and clapped his hands to fulfill Samuel's wishes.

Jacob, as if in slow motion, raised his arms to grab Samuel and pull him forward. The moment before his fingers touched him, he stopped. No matter what, he could never harm Samuel. Where did that thought come from? He was still holding Samuel by the collar and looked down on the weaker man, but he suddenly saw him in another light. His chest felt weird, too. A fluttering sensation. Something was wrong with his body. His breathing changed and he looked back at his friends with a worried expression. They looked back at him, confused about why he stopped and looked so weird.

He looked at Samuel again and noticed things he never noticed before. His eyes, for example. He had always thought they were plain brown. But they were blue, just like Jacob's, but with a little bit more sparkle to them.

The fluttering sensation continued to grow inside his chest, as well as a deepening feeling of - Jacob wasn't sure what this feeling was. It was the most intense and strongest emotion he had ever experienced. He tried to say something but couldn't find the words. What had just happened? Why was his heart beating so hard?

"What is it, Jacob?" one of the jocks asked.

"I don't know! Something is wrong here!"

Samuel looked up to him and their eyes met. For some reason, they were almost on eye level now. As hard as he wanted to, Jacob couldn't avert his gaze from Samuel's eyes. They were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Jacob?" Samuel asked. "Are you alright?" His voice was soft and without any anger.

The sound of his voice made Jacob shudder. He felt... weird. Weird and good, and all that at the same time.

He noticed that he was still holding Samuel by the collar and let him go. "I... I'm fine. I guess..."

He wanted to ask Samuel to leave, but his lips couldn't form the words. Samuel's lips, on the other hand, formed a smile that made Jacob's heart beat faster again. Everything about Samuel was just so... new. His blue eyes, his lips, his nose, his skin. Jacob wanted to touch him but wasn't sure where to start.

Jacob had to look up to see Samuel's face. There was a bit of stubble on it, and below that, Samuel still wore the bow tie - just like the eleventh doctor did! Samuel didn't bother to put on a shirt, and Jacob could see his muscular physique well, the dancing bulges of muscle under his skin. On his chest, and in his arms, the cobblestone road leading down to his...

Jacob had to look away. He felt really weird, and he wasn't sure why. This was the first time he ever felt like this. He could feel Samuel looking at him, and he looked back at him, although he couldn't explain what it was that drew him into his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt the strong hands of Samuel on the back of his head, pulling him closer, until their lips met. Jacob was shocked at first, but it didn't take long before he gave in to the kiss and relaxed. Samuel's lips were warm and soft. It felt like the world stood still around him and all he felt was Samuel's body and lips.

The kiss continued for what seemed an eternity, and Jacob didn't want it to end, but eventually they had to part. He smiled at the big Samuel, and Samuel smiled back at the thin, twinkish Jacob. They didn't need words and they didn't care about those watching jocks. All that mattered was that they had found each other at last. Besides, nobody would dare to say anything with a big man like Samuel around.

I love a good romance story every now and then! If you like to read my new stories as soon as they appear and also get exclusive content, consider subscribing to my riot page!

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 18

a/n: Well I’m happy and sad to come to the end of this little story. I have a few other ideas of little vignettes that I might add later but I’m going to focus on Contract Spouse now.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None, 

Word Count: 1400 ish

Summary: Jake is bullied by a ten year old.

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A blinding pain in your right foot wakes you. Through your muffled grunts of pain you can hear Jake cursing. You are back in his childhood bedroom in Texas.

“Shit, Kisses, you kicked me in the shin.” You feel him reach down to rub his shin and his hand brushes your foot causing you to yelp in pain. “What's wrong? Are you ok?”

“It feels like I broke my toe,” you whine out, gingerly moving your foot under the covers. You feel Jake shift on the bed next to you and the room is bathed in a warm light as he switches on his bedside lamp. Together you carefully lift the covers and you shift so you are sitting. 

Looking at your toe you both know something is wrong. “Oh fuck.” You look at your toe again and glance up at Jake in panic. “We’re supposed to get married today.”

Jake checks the time, “We have twelve hours until that happens. So hospital.” He gets out of bed and limps over to his suitcase to get you something to wear. 

“Is your shin ok?” 

“Pretty sure it is just a bruise.” He helps you pull one of his Navy hoodies on before easing a pair of shorts on you, trying not to touch your injured toe. “I’ll get the nurse to have a look when we are at the hospital.

The hall light turns on as he is helping you out and you see George closing the door to his bedroom. “What's wrong?” His rumpled hair betrays his alert expression. 

“I think I broke my toe in my sleep.” George freezes and blinks at your answer. “Jake’s taking me to the hospital.” George springs into action, opening doors and grabbing you an ice pack and a towel for the trip. “I’ll handle Tammy if you are not back by morning.” 

“Thanks Dad, I’ll text you.” 

Jake carefully lifts you and carries you to the truck. “I’m sorry,” you say, brushing a tear off your cheek as Jake settles you into the passenger seat. “I’m such a nightmare to sleep beside.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Kisses.” Jake carefully brushes another tear off your cheek. “I really wish you hadn’t kicked me.” You let out a strangled laugh and lean into the hand cupping your cheek. “But my dream is to sleep next to you and all your flailing limbs for the rest of my life, so I need you to get over this.” 

“You need me to not wake you up from your dream by kicking you in the shin.” 

“That too,” Jake agrees, giving you a quick kiss before carefully shutting the door and running around to start the truck. “For future reference, the floppy arms as you roll over are the best of the flailing limbs.”

“How often do I hit you in my sleep if you have a favorite?” You say joking but when you look at Jake he doesn’t meet your eyes. “How often do I hit you in my sleep, Jake?” You can feel the guilt creeping in.

“You don’t usually hit hard,” he says in a mollifying tone as he drives. “I can usually wrap my arms around you and you stop.” 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again. Jake doesn’t respond, he just kisses the back of your hand. 

When you get to the hospital Jake carries you in and sits next to you in the waiting room complaining about how long it is taking. 

“Jake, we have to wait because I’m going to live.” You tell him with a small smile. “If they saw me right away it would be bad.” 

After you get your toe X-rayed you are lying on one of the beds in the ER, curtains drawn around you. Jake is pacing beside you as you wait for the doctor. “Sit down, you're stressing me out.”

 You pat the bed beside you and he huffs before lying down. You tuck yourself under his arm. “You are really getting a head start with the ‘in sickness and in health’ bit.” You had been given some painkillers and without the throbbing in your toe you could see the humor in the situation. 

“Well I aim to be the best.” You snort a laugh at his confidence before sighing.

“How am I going to walk down the aisle today?” 

“I can push you down the aisle in a wheelbarrow.” You glance up at his deadpan expression. “Or an office chair, I could give you a piggyback ride.” You are giggling when the doctor comes in. He confirms that your middle toe is broken and after a local anesthetic sets and splints it. He then advises you to avoid all the fun things you have planned for your wedding.

When Jake carries you back inside it is four in the morning and the two of you go back to sleep with your foot carefully elevated. 

Waking up hours later you hobble to the window to look out at the Seresin’s beautifully decorated backyard. The fall weather is perfect with a cloudless blue sky. Jake had left while you were sleeping but at the sound of you moving around he comes bounding up the stairs. You turn to smile at him as he bursts through the door. 

“We’re getting married today.” You can’t keep the smile off your face. “You aren’t supposed to see me.”

“I’ve already seen you,” he walks over and presses his forehead to yours. “I might as well make it worth my while.” He leans forwards and kisses you sweetly. You sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into him to take the weight off your injured toe. 

Jake is your legs all morning. He fetches you everything and brings you ice for your toe where you sit with your foot up. He is eventually chased away by your bridesmaids who begin to help you get ready. 

“I’m going to have to go barefoot.” You say staring longingly at the shoes you planned on wearing. 

“Way ahead of you.” Grace pulls out a pair of white crocs out of a bag. “We are going to cut the toe out of these.” You stare at her in surprise. “Jake texted us and we came up with a plan,” she explained. “With your dress no one will be able to tell in the pictures.”

When the time comes the wedding party gathers around the corner of the house, ready to walk down the temporary aisle in the backyard. Jake's parents go first hand in hand, followed by Bob and Jessie, Bradley and Julia, and Javy and Grace.

Evie looks up at you, as the flower girl and ring bearer, she is the last to leave before you and Jake. “You sure you don’t want us to get a horse?” She motions to Jake. “I know he is in the Navy, but he doesn’t do things you have to be strong for, he just flies planes,” she sighs then, world weary at nearly ten. “I don’t know if I would trust him to carry me that far and you are bigger than me.” You burst out laughing as Jake sputters in annoyance.

“He won’t drop me,” you say, kissing his cheek. Jake picks up the basket of flower petals and makes sure the wedding ring box is carefully secured in the bottom. 

“Get out of here traitor,” he says, hiding his grin, and handing her the basket. “I can’t get married until you do your job.” Evie hugs you both with a smile, then turns to go.

“I’ll make sure I don’t accidentally throw the rings.” She calls over her shoulder before bounding around the corner before Jake can say anything. 

“She is turning into my sister,” he huffs. “They need to spend less time together.”

“Your sister Julia?” You laugh and he nods. “Her mother?” He nods again. “Good luck with that,” you say laughing. 

“Well Kisses, are you ready to get married?” He kisses your hand looking into your eyes. 

“”I could be persuaded, Sleepy Baby.” smoothing your hand over his dress whites.

“Oh, and what do I need to do to persuade you?”

“You need to tell me when you bought the engagement ring.” You gaze up at him. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I can’t figure out when you decided to marry me.”

“I decided I was going to marry you on our first date.” He says gently kissing you. “I bought the ring the day after that big fight we had when you went hiking.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yeah,” He has that cocky grin that you love on his face. “I knew you were it for me.” Jake picks you up bridal style and begins to carry you down the aisle. “Let's go get married.”

[observeowl]

Unwanted Marriage | Chapter 8 - Time to strike back

Series Masterlist

"Y/N, you haven't fully recovered yet, why were you discharged from the hospital so fast? I think you should just resign, you are the wife of Natasha Romanoff, you should not be bullied by others." Brooke commented as everyone was in your room, trying to care for you. "It's okay, Brooke. It's not a big deal. You go ahead with what you're doing, I'm fine." You have a forced smile to please her.

"Tell me, what actually happened today?" You told her from the beginning without leaving anything out. "That was it, Don't worry, Sharon took my pictures, as long as I can take back the pictures, they can't deny it. You don't need to worry about this. I will handle it." She sighed but nodded her head.

"Y/N..." She reached closer to you. "As I've said, we are partners. I can protect you and remove every stumbling block that is in your path."

"Natasha, I, Y/N Y/L/N, won't simply be humiliated by others. I can handle it myself. Only in this way am I qualified to be called Mrs Romanoff."

"The doctor said that you still need to apply medicine on the bruises on your body. Let me apply it for you." You were going to refuse, until you saw Natasha's resolve. You weren't used to being affectionate with Natasha, but you let her anyway. This was the most intimate you have been with Natasha, awake. You lifted your shirt and allowed her to put the ointment on your bruise where Sharon kicked. You sensed that Natasha had more to say, but keeps changing her mind as you hear her sigh each time. "Be more careful. I'm not with you all the time."

===

When you were all better and Natasha finally allowed you to leave the house, you went back to work.

"How weird, why is she still not here?" Wanda mumbled as she spied the entrance. "Wanda, what are you doing?" Millicent hit her head with a file she was holding. "N-nothing."

"Did you see Sharon? I have something to talk to her about." She asked. Wanda shook her head. "Weird, I've never seen her being late for so long. Maybe something happened?"

"What can possibly happen? Perhaps she is feeling guilty and is hiding from something she's done."

"You're always thinking about nonsense like this. Go and do your work."

In the breakroom, you were refilling your water when you finally saw Sharon. Seeing how dishevelled she was, you knew she was coming for you and shifted your cup to get hot water. "Sharon, what happened to you? Why do you look so dishevelled?"

"Bitch, how dare you?!" She tried to slap you but you caught her hand before she was able to do so. "Sharon, why are you so angry? Did I do something wrong?"

"Stop pretending! You are behind what happened this morning, right? You actually did what I had done to you back on me? Are you tired of living?"

"Sharon, what are you talking about? What did you do to me?" You asked, but she remained silent. She was unable, could not admit what she did to you here in public. "Even you yourself can't say it out loud. You must be mistaken so you came to me. Though work is important, I advise you to go home and sober up first before coming back to work."

She pulled your arm, causing your cup filled with warm water to splash on her. "Ah! You bitch! You scalded me!"

"I'm so sorry, Sharon. Why did you pull me out of the blue? I wasn't paying attention."

"Get lost." She pushed you and you made a dramatic fall. "Sharon, you're too much. You're an editor. I'm only a junior staff member. You're targeting me for no reason. I can only stay away but you still want to pull me. I accidentally poured warm water on you. And I wanted to help you wipe it."

"I saw it just now. It was Sharon who didn't want to let her go." // "That water wasn't even hot right? Just look at her, so dramatic!" The breakroom wasn't empty and there were whispers coming from other staff members.

"Sharon..." You stood up from the floor. "I felt that your forehead was a bit hot just now, do you need to go to the hospital? If not, it will be bad if you burn your brain." You turned her body and directed her out with you.

"Y/N Y/L/N! I definitely won't let you off!"

"Very well," You leaned closer to her ear. "You can go back and tell Stephanie that if she truly wants to find trouble, don't blame me for being rude." You sent her off before walking back to your table.

"Y/N... you are indeed my idol..." Wanda cheered. "I only returned what she taught me. Isn't Natasha your idol?" You teased. "Can't I have more than one?

"Y/N Y/L/N, you have an express delivery. Please sign for it." The receptionist called for you. "99 roses are really heavy. My arms are broken after carrying them here." You thanked her before signing the papers.

"Why did he send you flowers?" Wanda asked after realising it was Marcus who sent you the roses. "Is it not enough for you to be misunderstood? He just won't give up." You told Wanda to go do her work, there was nothing much for her to see here.

Not long after, you see Marcus's contact on your phone, ringing.

M: Y-Y/N! That's great, I didn't think you'll answer!"

You: What's the matter?

M: I want to treat you to a meal, is it okay? Don't worry, it won't take too much time. Doesn't your company want to interview me? As long as it is you, I will accept the interview at any time.

You: If I'm meeting you for work, I guess Stephanie won't get mad right?

M: She does not allow you to meet me?!

You: No, no!

M: Don't worry, Stephanie will not do anything to you, I will protect you!

You: Well, see you soon.

This was your chance to pay back what Stephanie did to you and you won't let it slip by. "Wanda, I'm meeting Mr Lancaster for an interview. When Mr Stark comes back, please let him know that Mrs Lancaster's interview is no longer needed." You told her as you packed your bag and took the flowers. "Do you want me to come along? Just in case his wife comes again, and you will be in trouble."

"Don't worry, everything will be alright."

Roses? Oh, Marcus, my favourite flower has always been magnolia.

===

Once again, Marcus was making sure he's looking suave, ensuring his hair looks right and his collar done properly as he waited for you to arrive.

"Ms Y/L/N, this way please." The waitress showed you to your room. "Y/N! You're here!"

You sat down at the table and the waiter poured you a glass of red. "Wasn't the interviewee changed to my sister? Why did you still call me?" You asked. "Stephanie accepted the interview?"

You took out some papers from your bag and placed it on the table. "You can take a look, the company has already arranged it for printing."

"I will accept your interview! Stephanie's interview is therefore invalid now, I don't need her to replace me." The waiter came back in to serve the dishes. "These are all your favourite dishes. I ordered them specifically for you."

"Thank you." You were sending a message on your phone, not really interested in the plates being placed on the table. "Brother-in-law, thank you for accepting this interview. Otherwise, they would think I was causing trouble to your company and fire me." It was time to put your plan into action.

"Did Stephanie do something to you?"

"How is it possible? My sister didn't do anything." You shook your head and smiled. "You're lying! The previous incident at the hotel was caused by her! Now she is pestering me obsessively like a crazy woman!" He said frustratedly.

"Brother-in-law, don't be like this." You tried to calm him down. "Y/N, don't call me brother-in-law. I have always been your Marcus, let's start over again, okay?" He reached across the table to hold your hands. "I can divorce Stephanie, and then I will take good care of you in the future. Let bygones be bygones, okay?"

Suddenly, there was a break in and Stephanie came rushing into the room. "Marcus! Y/N Y/L/N! You're shameless, how dare you seduce Marcus behind my back?!" She shouted at you and prompted Marcus to stand up from his seat and made sure she wasn't getting closer to you. "Stephanie, we are just doing the interview, don't make this a fuss! It's really shameful!"

"Shameful? Have you lost your mind!? Or do you like this shameless mistress?"

"Y/N, please go back first, this is my private matter, it's none of your business." Stephanie managed to break away from Marcus and stopped you. "Don't think of leaving here! Y/N, stop pretending! You dare say this was not sent by you?" It was a photo of Marcus smiling with papers in his hands. "What is it? Let me see..." You took her phone from her and swiped to the next picture and saw your photo where you were ambushed in the washroom.

"Sister... how come you have such pictures?" You acted shocked and looked at her. "What?"

"My colleague thought I stole her interview and humiliated me in the company. Why do you have the picture from that incident? Sister, don't tell me... You instructed Sharon Carter?" You acted as if you were disappointed in her as Marcus snatched the phone from her. "Marcus, I don't know what she's talking about, I have no idea of this picture."

"Stephanie! I never expected you would actually collaborate with Y/N's colleague to bully her! She is your sister!"

"Marcus! I really didn't do this kind of thing, you must believe me!" You can't lie that you didn't enjoy watching them quarrel. She held onto your shoulders and said, "You explain it to Marucs quickly, the photo has nothing to do with me!"

"How do I explain? The picture is on your phone. How does it have nothing to do with you?"

"Did you know that I almost died? Did you think that all my injuries and being hospitalised were fake?"

"Y/N Y/L/N, you bitch!" You acted as if you were hurt by her words and walked out from the room when in fact you were barely holding in your smile.

===

"This is roughly what happened this morning. So you can put your mind at ease now." You told Natasha what you had done to Stephanie during the day. "And about Sharon, thank you."

"Don't do such dangerous things next time."

Your phone rang and realised it was your father calling you. "Y/N, what have you done to Stephanie again? She just came back home and is threatening to end her life. I want you to come over immediately! Right now!"

"Let's go, I'll bring you to see something interesting." You said to Natasha. You didn't even wait for her reply and pushed her to the garage asking Clint to drive you to your house.

The moment you entered the house, you can hear Stephanie crying and your father was quick to ask what you have done to cause her to cry. "Na-natasha, you're here too? Good timing, you'll be the judge."

"Look at how Y/N has bullied her sister. If she had not met Marcus privately, Stephanie would not be like this!"

"Is it really because of me meeting Marcus that she became like this? She didn't tell you any other things?"

"What are you talking about? Y/N, you better make it clear!"

"What if I have evidence that she tried to get someone to make me lose my job, and even almost caused my death at the office's toilet? What would you do?" Natasha held your hand to give you a bit of emotional support.

"That... that is impossible!"

"Dad! It's Y/N, who bad mouthed me! Today, she sent me those pictures, so I was angry and went to find her, but Marcus kept protecting her!" Before you could open your mouth, she continued. "Don't try to slander me, I have evidence!" She showed the picture of Marcus smiling in the interview.

"Sister, why are you still trying to frame me? I didn't believe it when Marcus said you had asked people to check on him. Isn't this the evidence that you have engaged private investigators?" You asked.

"What?!"

"Natasha, it's..." Your father realised it was tough to defend Stephanie any longer when the evidence was against her and Marcus was not here to help. "I've looked into this matter. Y/N's colleague has admitted that it's Mrs Lancaster who instructed her. And because of that, Y/N was hospitalised for two days."

"Dad, they are trying to frame me! I didn't do anything!" She held his arm to pitifully plead her case. "Y/N.. it's Dad's fault that I mistook you."

"Stephanie is immature. Since you are all right now, shall we let bygones be bygones?"

"Just when you thought Stepahnie had been bullied, you couldn't wait to settle the score with me. But now when you know I was the one being bullied? All you're going to do is apologise on her behalf?"

"Dad, I am so sorry, I really have no intention to harm Y/N... I have no idea why that person sent me the photos, I only learned about it later on." She sure changed her story quickly when she realised there was nothing your father could do to protect her. "Since that is the case, then please go and apologise to Y/N nicely, make sure she forgives you."

"No need, after all we are a family."

"... right, right, we are one family."

"But Dad, I remembered you once told me that real siblings should settle their scores openly. So, even if are one family, I still have to ask when do you intend to return the 5 million dollars that you borrowed from Natasha?"

"5- 5 million?"

"Dad, don't feel that I am too realistic, since I am back, I might as well bring this up."

"Stephanie." Your father whispered. "I'm so sorry Y/N, I really realised my mistake, can you please forgive me?" Collecting the money was not your goal, you achieved what you came here for. "We are out for a long time and it's time to go back. Dad, please take care of your health."

"Oh oh yes, okay."

You wondered if you were too harsh and arrogant earlier. They are your family and probably shouldn't have acted in such a way. "To be my woman, you should at least have the boldness to do this kind of stuff. From now on, whoever bullies you, you have to get even, just like what you have done today!"

In the house, Stephanie was still trying to paint a fake picture with your father. "Dad, Y/N has previously been looking for Marcus on a few occasions. I already begged her to not destroy the relationship between us, but she, she!"

"Looks like I should have kept her with us..."

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing, you have put all your thoughts on Marcus, please don't fight with him."

Series Masterlist

@natsxwife @franfineashell @dvrkhcld @reginassweetheart @marvelogic @autorasexy

[bibibbon]

Do you think bnha treats the male victims of abuse narritavely worse than the female victims? (sorry if this sounds like I'm pitting them against each other or invalidating the female abuse victims in the story)

I've been reading your metas on how Horikoshi mistreats Deku in the narrative by sweeping Bakugo's bullying under the rug and meta posts by other fans dissatisfied with the way Dabi and the Todofam abuse as a whole was handled and I started recalling discussions on twitter how Denji from Chainsaw Man is a male victim of abuse, whose abuse is taken seriously by the manga and the mangaka, but not by most fans.

No absolutely not. I think MHA treats both of it's male and female abuse victims horribly. I have never viewed it to be something about gender it's just that horikoshi doesn't know how to handle abuse victims character whether thd abuser be a character he likes or hates.

Now I guess I can kind of see where this idea is coming from because the series itself shows us more abused male victims than female ones so there's definitely something there but even the female victims like toga, Rei himura or Eri aren't treated any better.

I remember getting ask that literally made me have a morbid realisation and it stated that Dabi ended up just like how Rei was in the beginning of the series. Also Rei never actually gets to escape her abuser either. She is still stuck as enjis caretaker and that's honestly tragic.

Toga's abuse is actually given the attention it deserves so she is probably the only character whose done a bit of justice in that area.

Eri still ends up getting hurt and used whether she is with the heroes or overhaul. The girl literally mutilated herself to make herself useful for her quirk to be used and you get the jist of it. This isn't a good look at all especially if you look at her history.

Now there are a lot male victims who have been abused like izuku, Dabi, shoto, hawks etc. Now these characters have much more screentime than the female characters but never actually get that part of their character focus on or they don't even bring it up so this just ends up making their characters feel so one dimensional and makes them badly written.

I honestly recommend you read @sapphic-agent post on bakugo and izukus relationship or her other posts about bakugo in general which are great in my opinion.

When it comes to chainsaw man fujimoto consistently recognises the abuse that denji goes through and (even though I haven't read csm) makes it clear that this isn't normal. It's usually the male audience that end up brushing denjis abuse or trauma to the side for example I have seen multiple posts talking about how what himeno did to denji wasnt a big deal or how makima never groomed denji.

Denji's character somewhat reminds me of hector from castlevania and how some fans would say that Lenore and Camilla did nothing wrong or that they never exploited/abused him.