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red-writes · 3 years

Text

Career oriented

Escort! Bakugou x Reader

Your entire life you've been focused solely on your career, you've sacrificed a lot of things, people and time to get where you are and it’s paid off, now you're a millionaire who is also a virgin and never had a boyfriend in their life. Your friend recommends you a male escort service. At first you hire him to go on dates and do other things couples do but the relationship develops far beyond what you could've imagined, now you're laying under him begging him to be your first.

cw: smut, fluff, unprotected sex, reader is a capitalist lmao, I mean reader is a virgin but its not rlly virginity loss bc its not focused around that but reader does lose her virginity, unedited (but what's new)

a/n: I mean we always hear abt sugar daddies, I need rich reader pls also- monoma is a rich bitch y'all can't fight me on this he got that rich bitch mentality.

The words ‘hard worker’ were understatements when it came to describing you. Pretty much all of your life was spent working, growing your small business with your own two hands. Now money was never an issue. A huge house with several bathrooms, fancy bags and cars, all the things you've ever wanted were now in your possession except maybe one thing. Seeing happy couples holding hands as they walked around in the park, kissing and calling each other pet names, seeing them stirred a feeling of longing inside of you.

While it’s true that now you'd never want for anything else in your life, you still wanted something money couldn't buy you, love.

A small tap to your shoulder brought you out of your daze.

“Your eggs are going to get cold..” Todoroki mentioned and you gave him a small smile before prodding your fork in the perfectly scrambled egg.

“Hey, don't tell me you're thinking about that shareholders meeting this week” Monoma groans and you shake your head.

“Then what is it?” Momo wondered as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“It’s just- you guys all have someone you know romantically” you say as you rest your fork on the plate, deciding that you weren't really in the mood to eat anymore.

Monoma scoffs, “Yeah barely...I almost broke up with shinso after that last stunt he pulled in the club”

Momo giggles, “You're still with him?”

His face dusts pink in embarrassment as he looks away, “A-anyway, why don't you try getting an escort” Monoma recommends and it was your turn for your face to warm.

“An e-escort?! You do realize who we are right? If someone in here were to hear us talk about such a thing..” Momo whisper-yells and Todoroki’s eyebrow quirks up

“We all know I met Izuku through a sugar daddy website though-”

You clear your throat, “I’m not necessarily looking for you know..sex...just maybe someone to spend time with Monoma” You clarify and he's rummaging through his pockets to find his phone, he fiddles with it before showing you what the site looks like.

“Duh, escorts just get paid for their time not necessarily sex, I’ll send you the link to the website” He tells you and you sigh thoughtfully, if that was really the case then it wouldn't be so wrong to hire some cute eye candy right?

Momo waves over the waiter, “We’ll have the check please”

“Certainly ma'am”

You sat at your office’s desk with the website pulled up. You'd triple checked to make sure your door was locked, you still had a reputation to uphold as the CEO of your company, you'd be traumatized if one of your employees saw you hiring an escort.

You scrolled through the many many options of guys. Each profile consisted of a headshot of the escort along with a bio that consisted of maybe a paragraph and . You really couldn't find anyone that suited your tastes personally, until your mouse hovered over a blonde guy.

His bio was notably shorter than everyone else’s and in his picture he looked mean, eyebrows furrowed and red eyes staring menacingly at you and yet you found yourself clicking the ‘hire!’ button next to his name. Even though he looked like his favorite hobby was stealing candy from a baby, but his looks (as shallow as that may seem) were really speaking to you and the you between your legs if you were honest.

Bakugou Katsuki huh..well he seemed worth a try.

You had been through countless scenarios were you were rightfully terrified.

Being on a date had to be the scariest out of all of them.

Bakugou was sitting in front of you, he stirred his straw around in his coffee and looked at you while you struggled to contain the rabid beating of your heart in your chest.

“S-So..What- um..-”

“Just relax” He interrupts, his voice sounded so nice, deep and smooth like a rich dark chocolate. It only manages to make you more nervous.

“I’m sorry- I haven't actually done this before” you confess with a nervous chuckle, hands gripping your tea cup brutally.

He gives you this half smile and you're unsure of wether he's actually human or a demi-god at this point. “I can tell, but don't worry there's no reason to be”

You feel slightly comforted by his words and feel yourself let loose a little, “Okay, Bakugou, what do you like to do?” you ask.

“I like going to the gym” he shrugs, “I’m not really Interesting, I’m more curious about you” he says, he places his elbow on the table and rests his chin in the palm of his hand and leans in to you. His skin is so clear- not a blemish in sight and his eyes are practically burning a hole into your soul.

“M-me? I do nothing too important..I like to sew” you respond, taking a sip of your jasmine tea. You didn't necessarily want to tell him about who you were or what you did just yet, money and status only complicate things. For now, you just wanted to be a normal young woman going out on a date.

“Come on, don't be shy, I know there's more to you than sewing” He says, removing the straw from his coffee and placing it on a neighboring napkin.

You bite into your bottom lip, “Well, I honestly don't do much besides work, it’s taken up so much time in my life I can't say I do much else” you admit and Bakugou hums thoughtfully. He doesn't respond for a bit, the sounds of the coffee shop fill the silence instead.

“Okay, I have an idea”

You cock your head to the side curiously.

“Let’s ditch the formalities and go have some real fun, I think its about time you lived your life” he proposes and your mouth hands open. Was he serious? He looked it. You couldn't help the giddy feeling that bubbled up within you, a feeling you hadn't felt in a long time, excitement. It made you feel young again.

“What do you say?”

“Alright!”

The two of you spent all day together, visiting various hidden places around the city, you did shopping and even some sightseeing. For the first time in a while you felt alive, like you were actually a person and not just a unfeeling robot who simply lived to work.

Your last stop was a park. With a large lake in the center Bakugou suggested you guys feed the birds before heading home. With a handful of birdseed you gently sprinkled some into the water and watched the geese gobble it up.

“When I was five, I had a huge fear of geese..” Bakugou admits and you're chuckling.

“No way, really?” you turned to face him and when you do he’s already looking at you, smiling fondly, eyes filled with an emotion that you really couldn't seem to put your finger on.

“What? Do I have something on my face that you're not telling me about?” You pout and he shakes his head before turning his attention back to the birds as he sprinkles more of the food into the lake.

“No, just realized somethin’”

The sun’s beginning to set now, the sky is illuminated by hues of orange and pink. You nudge him with your arm, “Realized what?”

He turns back to face you, there's an adoring look on his face.

“You look pretty when you're having fun”

A look of surprise crosses your features before your ears burn in embarrassment at the sudden compliment, the butterflies in your stomach flutter around more and more the longer you two stare at each other.

“Thanks” You mumble before looking down at your palm full of birdseed.

Dates with Bakugou become more and more frequent after that. The two of you often meeting up more than you meet up with your regular friends. Bakugou doesn't even charge you anymore, even though you've tried to tell him it was fine he still insisted otherwise. The two of you even exchanged numbers and spoke quite often on the phone. Texts like,

‘this song reminded me of you’ and ‘don't work too hard, idiot’ were often exchanged.

After maybe a month of this happening you realized that the warm feeling you got in your chest whenever Bakugou brushed your hair into place or stopped to tie your shoe for you or even when he texted you good morning wasn't because you appreciated him being a good friend, you liked him. It took a month to finally decipher your feelings for him but once you did..what the heck were you supposed to do now?

Never once in your life had you confessed to someone let alone dated them, what would happen to your friendship with Bakugou if things didn't work out? You didn't want to stop being friends with him, you loved being with him, he was the reason you finally started taking breaks and learned to relax.

You had a ton of questions to answer for yourself but you couldn't do it right now, you had a date with Bakugou. He told you to dress up and you weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him to take you somewhere you'd enjoy. Around 8pm like promised, he was there to pick you up. His car was fairly nice, you assumed his high pay rates were being used for something but now you know what. He was wearing a black three piece suit, it was crisp and you could clearly tell it was expensive, his hair was slicked back and he had a single diamond stud in his left ear. He looked damn good. It was making you a little nervous about how fancy this place actually was.

The drive to dinner was unusually quiet. Bakugou typically did most of the conversations with you seeing as you were mostly an awkward sausage but tonight was different, he had a stern look on his face and you felt a little worried. Bakugou noticed your nervous look in the rearview mirror and without skipping a beat placed his hand gently upon your thigh and gave it a small squeeze, this thumb moved back and forth in a soothing manner. All without taking his eyes off the road.

You felt a shiver run up your spine and you bit your lip from potentially making any noise, you turned your head to face the window to prevent him from seeing the look on your face.

Bakugou was right about the restaurant being fancy. The place was full of people you could recognize, everyone from business moguls to celebrities, it was almost a little intimidating but you knew probably how tough it was for Bakugou to even get a table reserved at this place so you decided to instead choke down any kindlings of anxiety and replace it with a gratefulness for his hard work.

You swirled the champagne around in your glass while Bakugou took a bite out of his steak, the atmosphere between you two was a little awkward and it hadn't been like this since the two of you met it was a little alarming.

“Is something wrong..?” you ask after gently resting the glass back on the table, he wipes his mouth with his napkin and sighs.

“I’m sorry that- I seem so weird tonight” he apologizes and you shake your head.

“No no don't worry about it, I’m just worried something bad happened” you tell him, you lean forward and place your hand on his. His fingers lace themselves with yours and for a moment it feels like its just the two of you in the restaurant together.

“Nothing bad, actually something good” he explains and you're giving him a small smile

“Something good?” you question and he leans in even closer to you.

“I mean, ever since I started hanging out with you I feel like my life's changed, I’m not one to be super cheesy but I just- fuck..I like you” his face is turning a light pink and in a moment of courage you close the small distance between the two of you and press your lips against his. He immediately reciprocates the kiss, his hand sneaks up your forearm and settles on your elbow using it to pull you in closer.

When the kiss finally breaks the two of you are a panting mess, then you hear the waiter clear his throat and Bakugou uses his thumb to wipe the lipstick from the corner of his lips.

“Check, please”

Upon entering your home, there wasn't much speaking. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as his hands fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress. The two of you blindly walked backwards until you tripped backwards onto the couch. Bakugou completely stripped you of your dress and laid it across the back of the couch, your hands made quick work of his pants unbuttoning and unzipping them, he kicked them off eagerly uncaring of where the fabric was strewn. He cupped your cheek and continued to kiss you as he helped you wiggle out of your underwear. He sucked in a breath at feeling how wet you already were. He ran a finger up and down your slit before gently nudging a finger inside.

The sensation was foreign, it felt odd at first but the more he kept twisting and thrusting the finger inside of you the better it began to feel. He slid in another one and began making a scissor motion inside of you. Your hips raised off the cushions of the couch, you moaned into the kiss and eventually he pulled away from it, instead opting to kiss the skin of your neck. Your moans along with the wet sounds of his fingers fingering you open filled the space. It felt good, you could feel the knots in your stomach threaten to untangle the harder his fingers fucked themselves into you.

His movements slowly came to a halt and he slid his fingers out. Your eyes clouded with tears and your legs were shaking, disappointed that he stopped when you were so close. He pulled his cock from his underwear and began stroking it over you.

“Ready?” He asks as he grinds his cock against your twitching entrance and you're gripping his shoulder before he makes another move.

“A-actually..please just be gentle its-i’ve never done this before” you confess and his eyes widen for once, taken aback by your sudden profession. He gives you a small nod, “Promise.”

With one smooth stroke he bottoms out within you. Your back is arching off the couch as your mouth hangs open in a silent cry. The feeling is an addicting mix of pain and pleasure that has the tears you were holding in begin to roll down your cheeks, Bakugou gently kisses them away and uses his fingers to wipe away the stray tears. For a while, you're simply holding each other, bakugou whispers words of comfort in your ears while you slowly familiarize yourself with having him inside of you.

When Bakugou feels your hips begin to move against his, he takes that as his sign to begin moving. His thrusts start shallow, hips just barely touching yours as he doesn't want to hurt you and you quickly become frustrated with his kindness. Your legs wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you, forcing him to bottom out inside you again. You whine his name and he shakes his head.

“And here I was trying to be considerate” he huffs out, you grip his tie and pull him down and press a gentle kiss against his lips.

“I didn't ask you to take it easy on me” you remind him and he scoffs

“You asked for this”

You're suddenly flipped onto your stomach and he raises your hips in the air, he pulls himself all the way out of you until the head of his cock is the only thing you can still feel inside of you, he rams his cock back into you and you're gripping the couch for dear life. His hips are ruthless, lewd slapping noises fill the room as the head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust. His heavy balls greet your clit with an unceremonious slap. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't think of anything else except Bakugou. You'd been completely fucked dumb on your first time.

You feel Bakugou’s fingers lace into your hair and grip the roots before pulling at them and forcing your head back. A jolt of pleasure flows through your body as his cock pushes up against your g-spot, your legs and kicking around behind you.

“No! cum-cumming kats I-” you can hardly finish your own sentence due to how hard your orgasm hits you, your body his shaking as bakugou releases your hair and uses his free hand to grip your waist as he desperately humps you, chasing his own release. Your cunt spasms around him in overstimulation, Katsuki only curses under his breath as you squeeze down on him, your cunt clamps down on his cock as you're brought to your second orgasm and his movements finally begin to slow and an unfamiliar warm fills your tummy.

He doesn't pull out right away. Instead he gently lays you backwards onto his chest and you snuggle into his chest.

He whistles, “Nice place”

“Pfft- don't try to make small talk with me after you just finished banging me” you giggle sleepily.

“Fair enough, still, I’m curious about how you can even afford this place” he wonders, hand rubbing up and down your back, only easing you closer to falling asleep.

“Hard work” you reply he takes your hand in his and kisses the back of it.

“That’s my hard working girl”

you feel the butterflies swarm around your stomach all over again at his small comment.

“Does this mean we're dating now?” you ask and he gives you a little chuckle.

“Yes, if you want”

“Good then you're my boyfriend” your eyes are fluttering closed at this point, you merely nuzzle into his chest and he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight love”

“Night Kats..”

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rwrights · 3 years

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WE'LL BE OKAY - NAT.

summary : nat and you never got along. reasons still unknown, but it was affecting the whole team. steve assigns you both to a mission, with natasha acting harshly. she said something to you before heading off. she got in your head and the aftermath wasn't so pretty.

contents : angst (??) / fluff

warnings : mentions of blood, guns, bullying, cursing and just occasional marvel fight scenes.

NOT PROOFREAD. a/n : my first fic aaaahhh !! i was inspired by a lot of similar fics like this, but mostly by this WANDA FIC WRITTEN BY @/maximons - i suggest you give it a read BCS ITS SO GOOD ARRGH <3

you don’t know how the feud started between you and natasha. you couldn’t tell if it was because of your age or because you were new.

you had quite an age gap with the former assassin, being a striking 24 years old, but according to the russian - you might as well have been 12 years of age.

unlike most of the avengers, you had a decent childhood. it wasn’t filled with trauma, and death, and basically what some of them unfortunately went through. you grew up in the suburbs with your mum and two older siblings. you got all the toys you wanted and everyone loved you! because of that, you were always polite and cheery - it’s what made people like you. you were funny and usually managed to put a smile on people faces ; usually.

natasha found your positivity irking and unnatural. how could someone be so, happy? she felt as if you were shitting rainbows down her throat, and god, did she hate it. how could someone like you even have the guts to be an avenger?

she enjoyed picking fights with you out of nowhere, and as fun as it was at first - the hostility only progressed and became a disruption to the whole team, including you. you tried your best to really become friends with natasha - or at least be civil with her. but the more effort you made, the worse she treated you. all you wanted to do was make it a little easier for the team, you all have enough crap to put up with and the quarreling between the both of you was definitely not needed.

─── donk.

“nat! y/n! conference room one, now!” steve’s loud voice called out through the speakers placed throughout the compound.

you set your book aside before running down to the conference room as you were told. you walked passed natasha, already giving you a sharp glare from afar. she adjusted her speed and basically ran to where away from you. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her as you trailed behind.

you entered the room, greeting everyone politely before sitting down next to wanda, who saved a space for you.

“alright, now that we’re all here..” cap began, walking around the table where you were all sat. “we’ve got a mission for two of you,”

“did you call us here to compete for it? because i am so getting this mission.” natasha stated, pointing at everyone as if she was threatening them. “uh, no.. not exactly. we’ve already assigned the mission to two of you..”

“who?” she asked, wanting to leave the compound immediately and get some action (not the peepee way).

“you and y/n,”

hearing your name, you just froze. you couldn’t help but stare at steve as if he was out of his mind.

“what?!” natasha squeaked. “i’m sorry, but there is no way i’m going with her. it’s probably best if i go on my own!”

“that’s just mean..” you replied quietly, in your seat. you weren’t in the mood to argue, so you tried to contribute as little as possible into this conversation. “cap, if natasha doesn’t want to do the mission with me, i’m totally fine with sitting this one out.”

“oh, don’t suck up and use your y/n reverse psychology on this. it’s not gonna work,” she spat, obviously mad about the whole situation. “nat, i’m being serious. i know how much you’ve been dying to go out, so please. just take it.”

“no, y/n, you’re going with nat. we’ve decided this already.” steve stepped in, trying his best to set his foot down. “steve, i think you know this isn’t going to happen.” natasha glared.

“you either go together or y/n takes someone else.”

“steve! i swear i’m fine!” you argued, seeing how natasha’s ears were practically steaming from anger. “i-”

“no, you know what? fine. enjoy your mission, y/l/n.” she growled as she stormed out of the room. you couldn’t do anything but watch as she slammed the door shut. as much as you wanted to chase after her, you and everyone else in the room knew you’d probably make the situation a thousand times worse for natasha. you sighed and slammed your head on the table in exhaustion.

“we’re sorry, y/n. we thought her need for a mission would make her say yes even with the partnership.” bucky said from the other side of the room. your head shot up almost as quickly as you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“we thought sending you two on a mission together could… make the arguing stop - even by a little.” steve explained, sighing. you laughed at them, did they really think that would work? did they know the obstacles you went through to try to get on her good side? your first few weeks were HELL because of it.

“it’s alright.. clint? what do ya say?”

“always up for a mission, y/l/n.” he smiled, giving you a fistbump.

─── donk.

clint knocked on natasha’s door after the meeting. “nat? it’s me,” he called, nat opening the door a few seconds after.

“can you believe them? they know how much i dislike her and they’d send me on a mission with her? Bozhe mo! (oh my god!)”

“nat, y/n is awesome. it’s been months, it’s getting tiring.”

“oh, please. it took forever to get any of you guys to trust me. doesn’t mean it has to be the same with her.”

“nat, she’s a kid!”

“ugh, don’t say it like that. it makes my thoughts uneasy..” nat replied, mock-gagging. clint glared at her as he playfully shoved her. “you’re so stupid.”

“and oh, i’m going on the mission with her.”

“wait what?! but you’re my best friend, why would you take it!” she exclaimed. “i never say no to a mission, nat. you and i both know that. i thought you did, too.”

“i would’ve taken it, but.. no! i’m not losing this fight.” she huffed as she fell on the bed. “turn the tv on, i need to distract myself.”

he did as he was told and decided to stay and watch with her until dinner.

─── donk.

it was the day of your mission and you were making your way to the hangar. to your surprise, you saw natasha waiting there. you smiled at her only to receive another sharp glare. yeah, what a surprise. you looked away and decided to wait for clint.

not long after he arrived and said his goodbyes to natasha, just as you were going to aboard the ship, she grabbed your wrist and whispered in your ear.

“you’re gonna trip and get yourself shot, y/l/n.”

“what the hell? i’ve barely left and you’re already telling me i’m gonna fuck up?” you retorted, angrily. you weren’t in the right state to panic or stress. especially not before you were leaving. “have fun, y/n.” she smiled, dripping in faux kindness.

you followed clint onto the ship and couldn’t help but shake in fear. great, now you were worried. you didn’t want to fuck up. you weren’t planning to.

“you’ll be okay, y/l/n. i’ve got your back.” clint reassured, seeing the panic clouding on your face.

“thank you..” you mumbled, but natasha’s words never left your head.

─── donk.

“something seems off, clint.” you whispered, looking around and keeping your guard up. “i agree, y/l/n. it’s too quiet.. too easy.” he replied.

just as you were going to reply, someone charged at you from behind, getting a hold of your throat. by instinct, you kicked his shin and flipped him around. “clint!” you called out as you knocked your attacker out.

suddenly, groups of people were coming towards you - fully armed. “clint!” you screamed, pulling your gun out and shooting as many of them as you could. “shit!”

“y/n, it’s a trap!” clint finally replied, making you roll your eyes as you threw your fist at a guy’s temple. “yes, clint, i’m aware!”

“keep your guard up, y/l/n. you can do this!”

“there’s-” kick. “too many-” elbow. “of them!” shoot.

“try to hold out for as long as possible! i’m on my way,”

you looked up to see more men charging at you. “ah fuck,”

you grabbed one of the guns from the guys you managed to knock out and aimed. “clint, i can shoot right?” you asked for permission, not knowing if you were supposed to kill them or just simply knock them out.

“yes, y/n. you can shoot.”

“thank you!”

you silently thanked god for the gun you chose and started shooting at the guards. you quickly threw it away as they ran out of bullets and grabbed two pistols and continued to run and shoot away.

as you focused on getting a certain guard, one of them slid under you, quite literally slipping you off your feet - probably making you twist your ankle, giving one of them an opportunity to get a clean shot of your thigh.

the bullet went through your thigh, making you scream in pain. “fuck!” you shot back at him immediately and slid up onto the wall.

well great, another thing natasha was right about.

“y/n?!” clint called, hearing you scream. the worry in his voice was evident, it managed to make you smile for a second until you dodged another bullet.

“i’m okay!”

no, you weren’t. you could barely stand with your fucked up ankle and the hole in your thigh, but you continued to shoot and fight.

“just.. hurry up, please!”

you used your bad leg to kick a guy down and use him as a ledge. you cursed as you ran out of bullets. there were guns scattered across the floor, thanks to you. you just grabbed the nearest ones and looked back up.

as quickly as you did, a shot went through your shoulder and your abdomen. “gah fuck!” you collapsed on the floor as you tried to control the bleeding. you got up for a second to shoot back at the closest people and went back down. “clint, hurry up!” the pain was too much, the bleeding wouldn’t stop and your ankle looked like a fucking bean. you started to get nauseous, but tried your best to stay up.

“i’m here!” he yelled as he aimed at a few people in front of him. he ran towards you, finally seeing your state. “oh my god!” he kneeled down, putting pressure on your wounds to help with the bleeding, but the blood just kept seeping through “you just said you were okay, idiot!”

“i know, i didn’t want to worry you..” you mumbled. “no, no! y/n, you have to stay awake. come on!” he picked you up and started running away to go back to the ship. “you’re okay, y/n. tell me you’re okay right now.”

“i’m okay.. i’m okay, clint.”

“yeah, yeah, you are.”

you tried making it to the ship, but you were already so tired. “i’m gonna nap, clint..” you said before passing out.

─── donk.

clint alerted steve about you right when you passed out. they were rushing you out to the med bay to perform surgery on your injuries.

“she told me she was okay, steve. i thought she was okay!” clint screamed, he blamed himself for what happened to you. only if he arrived a few seconds before. you wouldn’t have been in the situation you’re in now.

“no, no. this isn’t your fault. neither is it hers, it happens, okay? we put ourselves at risk every time we step out of here. y/n was brave, alright?

wanda rushed down to the medbay, reaching for the door before pulling her back. “wanda, we have to let dr cho do her job right now. she’ll be okay.. y/n will be okay.”

she cried into steve’s shoulder - her best friend was being operated on. you were being operated on! the thought of you getting hurt never crossed her mind because she knew you were strong.

the team soon heard about the incident and let their worries out, obviously caring about you. natasha was confused about the whole hassle.

“vision!” she called out. he turned around and walked towards natasha. “how may i help you?”

“what’s the hassle about? everyone keeps whispering,”

“mr barton and ms y/l/n have returned from their mission, but ms y/l/n has suffered some major injuries and has been in surgery for about an hour now-”

hearing that, she sped to the medbay, thanking vision quickly. she saw wanda, steve and clint waiting around. “no, no, where is she?!” she yelled, making the three of them look at her in shock. “she’s still in-”

she tried running into the room like wanda did, getting pulled back by steve. “natasha, we have to let dr. cho do her job.”

“i need to see her!” she exclaimed, not being able to breathe. “what happened to her? what major injuries?!” she demanded.

“broken ankle, shot through her thigh, shoulder and abdomen..” clint recited, looking down at his feet. “where were you!? how could you let this happen?!” she roared, genuinely shocking them.

why did she suddenly care about you? well, yes, you suffered major injuries, but why was she getting mad?

“natasha! enough!” steve scolded. “this isn’t clint’s fault, and you know it.” he said, sternly. she didn’t reply as she panted. wanda held her hand as support, needing it for herself as well.

─── donk.

an hour later, dr. cho finally walked out of the room. everyone stood up in eagerness.

“is she okay?” steve asked, immediately.

“y/n suffered major blood loss, but we are lucky none of the three bullets hit any major arteries. she has also quite definitely broken her ankle, so i’m putting her on bedrest for at least 6 weeks until you get her up and going again.”

“main point, yes. y/n is okay.”

a smile broke out in all of their faces. “thank you, doc!”

“you may see her now, but she hasn’t woken up yet. don’t be too loud.”

they all walked into your room and stood beside your bed. “she looks so peaceful,”

“she definitely looks better right now than earlier,” clint joked, earning a soft laugh from the three of them. they stood by you for a while until natasha spoke up.

“um.. could- could i be the one who stays with her until she wakes up?”

they looked at the red head in surprise, “are you sure, nat?” steve asked.

“yeah.. i just want to be here.”

“alright,” they smiled softly at her before leaving.

she held your hand and stayed with you, waiting for you to wake up. it took for a while so she managed to fall asleep, holding your hand.

you slowly started coming back, groaning from the late pain you experienced. natasha jumped in shock and saw that you were awake.

“you’re awake!” she whispered, making you turn to her. “natasha? what’s happening?”

“you passed out during your mission. i know i told you you’d slip and get shot.. but i didn’t actually mean slip and get shot, idiot!” she scolded, flicking your forehead. “gah! it was an accident, i was doing fine,”

“no, you have three holes in your body. and not the good ones,”

“nat??” you replied, shocked. “did you just joke around with me?”

“no..”

“you’re holding my hand.. what did they bribe you with?” you asked, quickly getting suspicious. you tried pulling your hand away, but she only held onto you tighter. “nothing! i.. i volunteered. ask steve and wanda! and clint!” she replied, defending herself quickly.

“well, if you volunteered.. what do you want from me? i’m not gonna be leaving the compound for at least 2 months, so you can have all my missions-”

“no, y/n. truthfully, i just really want to apologize.”

“huh”

“i know i’ve made your first few weeks really hard and even after being here for months, i still managed to.. you know.. make it hard for you. in full honesty, i genuinely don’t know why i’ve been so horrible to you. i had a hard time opening up to people - and.. you were just so welcoming and i got scared. not an excuse for my actions, by the way! i was horrible and i’m so sorry.”

“thank you for your apology, i forgive you, nat.” you smiled, squeezing her hand. “i also.. have feelings for you.” natasha added, avoiding eye-contact with you. “you whAT?!”

“i-”

“i like you too! but are- are you serious?”

“yes, y/n… i like you. guess that’s why i was so defensive about.. literally everything.”

“nat.. thank you. for opening up to me. it genuinely means so much - especially after all this fucking time, you asshole.”

“are we okay now?” she asked, hopeful.

“yes, nat. we’re okay.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #avengers au #marvel #black widow x reader #black widow

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Text

Braids - Roope Hintz

Words: 1.2k+

Summary: Braiding Roope’s hair.

Inspo: This post bc same

"Pleaseeee." You drag down the word, palms resting against one another as you plead for your boyfriend to let you do what you want.

"Absolutely not."

This all started when you were innocently scrolling through social media, watching random videos and random posts on your explore page. Everything was normal, mostly food videos or silly others, until you swiped to the side to see what your friends have been posting lately.

You saw that one of your closest friends had taken a picture with their younger brother. His hair is usually loose, about chin length and brown, and now it was in two French braids, made by her (according to the caption).

And it looked really good!

You have been living with your boyfriend, Roope, ever since you had completed a year in your relationship, and it's shocking to you how it never occurred to you to just... braid his god damn hair!

We've all seen the iconic pigtails in games or how messily his hair sits on his head after games. Or, in your case, how he walks around the house.

He's surely not planning on cutting it any soon, so, you thought it would be easy to just convince him.

Yeah, well, right off the bat the blonde beauty didn't like your idea all that much. He refused with all his being, yet you did not give up.

"But just look!" You tell him, giving him your phone so he can see the picture you had just seen, "It will look so good on you."

He eyes the screen, a soft scowl still over his features, and after some silent seconds, he shakes his head at you.

You lay your phone back on your lap, giving him your puppy dog eyes and a tiny pout, and, nop, he's not budging.

"Nobody will ever know, I promise." You lay your hands on his shoulders, making sure he's looking at you, "It will just be between the two of us... Please?"

Roope stays silent and you hold your breath as you think he might be considering it. He knows you're in a group chat with both Miro and Esa, for a reason he does not know except that you're all super close.

This also means that any pictures would just be just one click away.

"Nop." He says, sure of himself.

You sit back on your heels since you have been sitting on your knees ever since he had sat beside you. Your hands are still on his shoulders but they aren't grabbing him anymore.

"But it would be so much fun." You try again, dragging your words like a kid.

He gives you another shake of the head, and you sigh.

You let your hands slide from his shoulders to his chest before pulling away completely and giving him a sad look.

Roope's gaze stays on you as you sit on your side, lifting your legs from under you so can bring your knees to your chest.

Your eyes stay on him, and you silently notice that the show you two had been waiting to watch before all this, is already playing in the background, long forgotten.

"Please?" You whisper, promising yourself that it's the last time.

He doesn't say anything.

"I'll do anything."

"Anything?" He asks, slightly surprised.

"Anything." You do a quick nod.

A smirk slowly grows on his lips and his eyes shift over to the screen, seeing the characters argue over the dramatic music.

"Fine."

(...)

You were a giggly mess the whole time. From running to the bathroom to get elastics and a brush to sitting back down on the couch, you were just as happy as one could be.

Roope, even though he expected a lot of things to come from this experience, he surely did not expect it to go by that pain-free and that quick.

You had made him sit on the floor in front of the couch, and he didn’t seem to care too much about that since his mind was too taken away from reality to focus on anything but his favorite show.

Just like your friend, you did two french braids on Roope, tight enough to be completely against his head, and... now that you’re taking a good look at it, you feel proud about your work.

Roope just realizes you’re done working on his hair the moment you get up from the couch behind him and stand in front of him to take look at his face.

Your hands are resting on your hips and a smile is appearing on your lips.

You definitely need to get used to not see him curls just rest by his neck and by the sides of his head, but, other than that, god damn.

“So...?” He starts, eyes coming back to the TV, “Do you approve it?”

You stay silent for a bit as if contemplating about it and as soon as he looks back at you, questioning your silence, you smile more widely and sit beside him.

Your arms wrap around his neck and you hug him, or should you say: hug his head, close to you. Your cheeks are pressed between one another as Roope sits confused and you a smiley mess.

“You look so handsome!” You squeal.

A laugh escapes your boyfriend at your excitement and you squeeze him closer to you.

“Why haven’t I thought of this before?” You say with a gasp, “My God!”

A contagious smile finds its way to Roope’s face and you pull away slightly to look at him. Your hands are cupping his face and your face scrunches up as you continue to find him completely adorable.

“This is the best day of my life.” You whisper close to his face and he chuckles at your exaggeration, “Can I take a picture?”

His smile falls and he starts shaking his head in your hands.

“Why not?”

“Because you will send it to Miro and Esa!” He says defensively, yet still doesn’t take his face from between your hands.

“I promise I won’t.” You plead, thumbs moving slightly under his eyes, caressing him, “Promise, promise, promise.”

He looks at you in the eyes for a second and lets out a loud exhale.

“Okay...”

Oh, you were the happiest you’ve ever been and it shows.

You jump up the couch to get your phone and start taking pictures. Even though you didn’t intend on keeping all of them, you were making sure to have every angle.

Oh and yeah, one with Roope all smiley at the camera too.

“This is the cutest thing ever.” You say while staring down at your phone screen.

“You better keep your promise.” He warns you as you take a seat back on the floor next to him.

“I will, I’ll protect them with my life.” You reassure.

He gives you one singular nod and a smile playing over his lips.

“Thank you for letting me braid your hair.” You say to him and he whispers a sweet ‘you’re welcome’ back.

And, with that, your day went by just normal. Roope didn’t take his braids off until he went to bed and you were a happy camper the whole rest of the day, making his favorite food as dinner and even make dessert.

And the fact that you have pictures to remember this day is beyond you. How did you convince him again? God damn miracle.

Don’t lie, we’ve all day dreamed about this.

#roope hintz #roope hintz imagine #roope hintz imagines #roope hintz x reader #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

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jacqcrisis · 2 years

Note

so i am in the midst of reading watch the tide come in (am v slow reader so it is taking me a while, which i am enjoying immensely bc it means i get to live in here for So Long) and i am on the beach chapter n i gotta ask, since i haven't found it mentioned elsewhere in your blog: Charon's thoughts on Hermes' Very Short Shorts? Charon's thoughts this chapter in general, about Hermes going on dates or the sunscreen bit or uh any of several Moments shared ooorrrr anything really whatever u got, I like them very much and this chapter REALLY made me want to drive out to the beach today

I'm glad your enjoying it!

This chapter was jokingly called the Trial of Charon... by me. It’s also his ‘bonk go to horny jail’ chapter. This chapter exists exclusively for self-indulgent purposes and the idea of tormenting the lonely guy who’s finding out how to love again with a hyper-active wet horny dude in the smallest of shorts is *chef’s kiss* to me. And I know I've answered this kind of question before, but imma do it again

In 2nd person. As is my God-given right.

So imagine you're in your early thirties and you haven't had a relationship in five to six years. You're somewhere on the ace spectrum and are generally ambivalent to casual sex so this also translates into not having gotten laid in just as long. Which you're fine with as intimacy is generally lackluster to you if you don't have a connection with the person, its a lot of work and effort for not a lot of payoff, and your libido and capacity to be attracted to someone is a lot like a radio frequency that keeps changing. You've never been in tune with it, it comes and goes, and you've long since accepted this about yourself.

And Hermes is a guy you're interested in mostly romantically at this point and you'd really like your friendship to go in that direction, but you have reservations. The last relationship you had ended with enough heartache on your end that you swore off the whole deal in general, and as much as you like this goofy dipshit with all of his problems and his chronic inability to shut up, he's also young and probably isn't looking for the same amount of commitment you are and you aren't looking to get your heart broke again. Doesn't mean you're going to stop trying though cause you really like this guy and you'd be damned if you missed your shot.

Which is why you suggest the day out on the boat. Nice time alone together that, if you play your cards right, maybe can have more romantic angle? At no point do you factor in the reality that Hermes will be in swim trunks this entire time considering you’ve spent most of your life in Styx Beach and the sight of wet dudes in swimwear is, while aesthetically very nice, not exactly physically exciting.

Then you walk into the shop and get blindsided by Hermes looking less like a snack and more like a whole goddamn buffet. For the first time in a long time, that radio frequency is coming in loud and clear thanks to this guy you’ve got a thing for who you know wants to get dicked down by you and you’re going to be alone with him on a boat for the whole afternoon. If you were a different kind of person, you’d say fuck it to your convictions, pick him up, and take him upstairs.

But you don’t cause you’re an adult with four businesses and more self control than you can shake a stick at and even if Hermes is interested in you, you’re not about to ruin a friendship by being a sex pest. You can survive one afternoon on a boat, though the whole sunscreen bit does make it one hundred times harder given Hermes’ bare back is quite inviting and you haven’t touched anyone like this in so long. It should not be understated how difficult it is not to slip underneath the waistband of the swim shorts and see if Hermes is amiable to your hands between his legs.

At that point, you’re certain this afternoon is going to be a bust when Hermes joins you at the helm, but something takes your mind off the distractingly toned lines of his thighs. You should have known he’d start dating given you rejected him after the party and haven’t made much of a move since, but the words coming directly from the horse’s mouth leave you cold, panicking, and irritated completely with yourself. You had a chance weeks ago to clear the air when he was apologizing for his drunken pass, a chance to state what you really wanted out of this and maybe set you on the road to something more, but your apprehension and cowardice won out in the end and now he’s started dating in the meantime.

He's not going to wait forever, and now its entirely up to you to make that move. But you're not great with words, and even if Hermes is flirting like it's his day job and looking at you like that while looking like that, you still can't bring yourself to say anything. But you know that all its going to take is one pretty girl and one good date and he's going to be out of your reach so you spend the rest of the afternoon hatching a plan.

Words aren't your strong suit, but actions are, and an idea occurs to you for one loud enough that you won't have to say a goddamn thing for Hermes to know exactly how you feel about him...

#beach fic #one of my favorite subjects: the swimming chapter #poor charon doesnt know what to do with himself #i didnt know if youve read the next chapter or not so i let that end vaguely #im never not ready to write a short in 2nd POV at the drop of a hat #i think hermes would be delighted to know how very hot under the collar #he made charon on that day #if he ever found out #at some unforeseen amorphous time in the future #i wouldve linked more posts and fanart but i did not have time unfortunately

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 3 years

Text

Warm

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Warnings: This one’s a little spicy, there’s some implied smut and nudity + kissy kissy (it’s really nothing major tho). Fem!reader (only bc he refers to you as his wife). Hmm, bit of hurt/comfort? Just a bunch of fluffy flirting with dashes of angst and spice (okay maybe a lot of angst)

Author’s Note:

Hello! Here’s the long-ass Kiri fic I’ve been working on! This is actually just loosely based on the request—I really took it and ran I guess 😅. I kept changing my mind with what I wanted to happen until I eventually wound up with this!

Ignore how it’s basically Bath Bomb but with Kirishima

Anyway I hope y’all like it!

-Sugar

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⋆｡*ﾟ✲*

Your consciousness bloomed back into being at the sensation of lips trailing kisses down your shoulders. Daylight pierced into your cracked lids, faintly illuminating your bedroom with the caress of a new sun.

A body pressed up against yours, his broad chest and shoulders wide enough to support the width of your own back. His mouth languidly worked its way over your bare skin; from your back, to your neck, over your shoulder. He moved as if he had all the time in the world, and he was more than willing to spend it all on you.

You hummed and shifted, signaling your newly awakened state. A thick forearm you weren’t previously aware of tightened its grip around your waist, his palm gliding over your stomach and up to your chest. It moved up and down, before finally stopping to give you a gentle squeeze.

“Morning, Eijirou,” you said, a laugh already in your sleep-worn voice.

“Hey, Princess.” His chin slotted in the juncture of your shoulder and neck, his cheek pressing against yours. “Sleep well?” His own voice was so low and quiet and deep in the mornings, making your nerves fire in an odd excitement within you.

“Of course I did,” you smirked, ignoring the stirring in your chest. “I’ve got you.”

He chuckled, and finally a small shiver shot through your body at the sound. “Glad the feeling’s mutual.”

You ducked out from under his chin, turning to your other side in order to face him. His chest pressed against yours as you hugged him back, and you couldn’t help but notice how warm it was under the covers like this. Finally you met his eyes, (E/C) meeting glittering vermillion in the morning sun for a long moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “I swear, I married an angel.”

Your heart sped from its steady beat, heat climbing the back of your neck. “Eiji!” you mumbled, flustered, hiding your face between his pecs.

He chuckled again, and at this point, you swore he was doing it on purpose. “It’s true. Gorgeous, perfect—what more could I have asked for?”

You smiled against his skin, and you felt his warm hand gently begin to stroke up and down your back. You cuddled in silence for a minute, growing lost in the touch of the other.

“This is nice,” he sighed, drawing you impossibly closer. “I finally get to spend my whole day with you.”

You lifted your head again to look into his face, smirking. “Is your plan to spend it all in bed?”

He shrugged. “That wouldn’t be a bad thing. Think about it—here, finally alone with me, all warm and snuggly? No stress, no responsibilities, just . . . me. And you. It’s been too long since we’ve had something like that.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, perhaps too readily. Eijirou’s face fell. “Hey,” you crooned, taking his cheek in your palm. “I understand you’re busy. You’re out there being the best hero ever. Do you know how proud I am of you? My Red Riot, saving the day out there. It’s worth the wait.”

His ruby eyes glimmered as they affectionately bored into yours, leaning into your touch. “I still feel bad I can’t be here for you like this every day.”

“But then it wouldn’t be as special.” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone, finally pulling him into a kiss. It started out soft, but Eijirou was quick to escalate the gesture. He devoured your lips enthusiastically, just like he always did, licking and nibbling at the skin.

Warm, you couldn’t help but think, as your heart pounded and blood rushed towards your face. Warm as his fingers laced with yours on his cheek, warm as your skin touched without a centimeter separating you.

Kisses with Eijirou were addictive, and once you started, you could scarcely bring yourself to stop. With every push and pull of your lips, it was as if pure joy had flooded your veins. Even after all these years of being together, you basked in the truth that he could still make you feel this way.

His lips pecked the corner of your mouth, then moved down, down to your jaw, then your neck.

“Eiji,” you breathed, a smile tugging your lips up.

He met your eyes again, removing his tongue and teeth just enough to innocently question, “What?”

“I—weren’t we—it really is—” you began, but your brain was already distracted, focusing on the way he sucked and nipped at your skin, moving ever lower.

“Are you actually going to stop me?” he asked, kissing your collarbone.

You gulped. “No.”

It was a few more hours until you got out of bed.

…

“Eiji.”

You spoke his name and tapped him on one shoulder blade, muscled and kissed by the sun. He grumbled, asleep once more, nuzzling closer into your bosom.

“Eijirou, it’s noon,” you said, glancing at your bedside alarm clock and shaking him again.

“So?” he mumbled against your skin.

“So I’m hungry,” you pretended to whine. “Let’s make breakfast. Or lunch. Brunch, yeah.”

He sighed, dramatic, hugging you tight. “But I don’t want to get up.”

“I’ll make us pancakes,” you offered, threading your hands through his soft red hair.

He didn’t move.

“—with extra bacon and sausage,” you added.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours as his chin settled on your chest. “Okay, I’m listening.”

You chuckled, ruffling his bangs and poking at his nose. “Come on, you have to get off of me. We can cuddle again later.”

Eijirou finally straightened, letting you slide out from under him. You both stretched and moved towards your dresser; Kirishima choosing a pair of gray sweatpants while you opted for one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

Eijirou trailed after you to the kitchen, leaning against the counter while you rummaged through the fridge for a few ingredients. Within minutes, you had the batter mixed, and you poured it into the hot pan with a satisfying sizzle. Your husband watched with interest from behind, chin perched on your shoulder and arms resting around your waist.

“That one looks nice,” he’d comment every now and then. “Good job, babe.”

His hands stayed ever-present on your body, mostly resting on your shoulders or hips as you finished making breakfast. You ate with him, making light conversation as you plowed through the stack of pancakes and meat.

When you were done, you spent some time catching up around the house. Eijirou helped you wash the dishes and fold and put away the laundry. He insisted on doing it all by your side, happy to chat while you shared effort on the chores.

“How do you keep up with all this?” he asked, setting one of his t-shirts on the bed, freshly folded. “With your job and everything, it’s amazing that you still do so much.”

You shrugged. “I manage. It’s not so bad. And don’t completely discredit yourself, you still help when you can.”

“Well, of course I do,” he said, carrying a pile of clothes to the dresser. “You shouldn’t have to take care of everything by yourself.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “but you have other things to do that’s more important than dusting behind the TV.”

He came back to your side again, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you in so he could kiss your temple. “I’m just thankful you’re here to keep up with the house.”

“And I’m thankful you’re here to spend time with me today.” You popped up on your toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, taking the now-empty laundry basket back to the laundry room.

“Would you like to watch a movie together?” you asked when you were back in the doorway. “The evening is young. We can make a snack and go back to cuddling on the couch. How does that sound, huh?” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows, trying to sound convincing.

“Sounds perfect to me, babe,” Eijirou said, striding up to where you leaned against the doorframe. “But I think the only snack here is you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Ei-JI—AAA!”

He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, grinning his shark-toothed smile as you laughed.

“I meant popcorn!” you said, pretending to struggle.

Kirishima landed a gentle smack to your behind and made a little pop noise with his mouth.

“Ugh,” you said, going limp.

“Shall we continue to the living room, my lady?” he asked.

“Fine. But I don’t think ladies are supposed to be carried like a sack of potatoes.”

He chuckled, already making his way down the hall. “You’re the finest sack of potatoes I’ve ever seen.”

“Hey!” You landed the softest of punches against his back, still lighthearted in the situation.

He set you down once you were back in the kitchen, going to the pantry to grab a bag of popcorn. You sat on the counter to watch him put it in the microwave.

“I’m always scared I’m going to burn these,” he admitted, grinning sheepishly as he tried to decide on a time to put in.

“I do it for a minute and fifty seconds,” you said, childishly swinging your legs.

He inputted the time as you said, the microwave humming to life as the turntable began to spin. Eijirou turned to you again, moving so he was between your legs. “Now, about my snack.”

You snorted, giggling until he cupped your cheek in his hand. He slotted his lips against yours, pulling your body flush into his. Your hands wandered over his bare skin, tracing the blade of his shoulder before gliding up into his hair. You let your fingers lace through the vibrant red strands, anchoring yourself and pulling him in further. Your legs even went as far as wrapping themselves around his waist, your feet meeting at the small of his back.

Eijirou hummed into your mouth, happy to savor you, glad he was there to hold you. The microwave beeped that it was done and you felt his attention shift momentarily, but soon he was back to cherishing you, getting lost in your taste and your touch. How could he care about anything other than you right now? You were his everything, his world, his reason to be. He kissed you harder, not caring that he was running out of breath. He just wanted more of you, wishing he never had to stop. His hand traced over your thigh, longing for you to somehow be even closer.

The microwave beeped again, impatient that it hadn’t been opened.

“Are you going to get that?” you asked, pulling back.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, but he still insisted on giving you a few more chaste pecks before he moved.

You released him and hopped down, wandering into the living room with your husband right behind you, newly equipped with a steaming bag of popcorn.

“What should we watch?” you mused. “Ooh, how about Star Wars? It’s been a while and I know it’s one of your favorites.”

“Okay,” he said, settling next to you on the couch. It was a good idea. You were right about him liking it, but he’d also seen it enough times that he could place all his focus on you. There was no way he was going to let your little make out session go interrupted like that.

“Why don’t you go turn out the light?” you asked, already turning on the TV.

Eijirou stood, walking up to the switch on the wall. It was then that he felt his phone begin to vibrate in his pocket. He flicked the lights off as he fished out the device. He figured it was junk, but then he saw it was his work contact. His heart began to sink.

“Who’s that?” you asked, apprehensive when you saw the expression that had already come onto his face.

“The agency,” he said, voice low and small.

He wanted to think they were just calling because he’d left something in his office. Or maybe it was a mistake and they hadn’t meant to call him at all. But they wouldn’t contact him on his day off like this if it wasn’t an emergency. Kirishima wasn’t so naïve that he’d think otherwise.

What if he just didn’t answer? What if he ignored it and went back to you? You were the one he wanted to spend time with. This was his evening off—your evening to be together.

But he had a job. He had a responsibility. An innocent person’s life could be at risk. What kind of person—what man, what hero—would he be if he selfishly ignored it? His passion demanded sacrifice, and that was just something he had to live with. He only wished that you weren’t the one who always had to get hurt.

He never knew his thumb to feel so heavy as he pressed receive.

You watched him put the phone to his ear, watched his face fall further as it seemed your collective suspicions were confirmed. He shot you an apologetic glance before he briskly strode off in the direction of your bedroom, still listening to what his secretary was saying on the other end.

You looked back to the TV, the ‘st’ still present in the search field from when you’d typed it in only moments before. Sighing, you turned off the screen, sitting back into the couch.

Maybe he wouldn’t be gone long, you thought, chewing on your lip. Maybe you’d still have time to be together when he got home.

But you knew that it was little more than a lie to yourself. You knew he never came back soon.

The front door slammed shut somewhere else in the house, and you were alone again. You lifted your left hand, examining the glittering rubied ring that rested on your finger. The ring that claimed you as his. The ring that had made you a Kirishima.

You twisted it absentmindedly, appreciating the sensation of friction against your skin. You’d known what you were getting into when you’d accepted the ring. You’d known as soon as he’d gotten down on one knee nearly two years ago. Being wed to a hero wouldn’t be easy. Not only were you in danger just being involved with him, you were also going to be alone a lot.

And even still, you’d accepted. You always cherished every moment you were able to have with him. Every cheesy, teasing joke, every kiss, every time he’d come home to you exhausted and tired and dirty—you still loved it. Because you couldn’t even imagine spending your life with another. Maybe in some other reality, you’d find someone who loved you as much, but here, you wanted Eijirou. No matter what it took, you’d be the one waiting for him to come home. It was your shoulder he’d cry on, your chest he’d fall asleep in, your lips that were there for him to claim. And nothing would change that.

You knew how guilty Kirishima felt about leaving you. He didn’t like that he’d essentially forced you into being his housewife, even though you still had a day job of your own and didn’t really mind.

Being a hero is what he wanted to do his whole life. You saw how passionate he was about his job, all the wide, toothy smiles he’d display to the live TV cameras when he’d win another battle. His job was something he loved, and you wouldn’t dream of getting in the way of it. It wasn’t perfect, nor was heroing as glamorous as some made it out to be. But this was his dream, and you would continue to be his number one fan no matter the circumstances. If only it didn’t have to take him away so much . . . .

You munched on a handful of cooling popcorn—not burnt—wondering what you should do with the rest of your night off. You certainly couldn’t spend it sitting by yourself in the dark.

You stood, stretching. This was nothing new for you, you could be independent. But a part of you couldn’t help but selfishly wish it didn’t have to be this way.

…

Kirishima fumbled to put the key in the lock on your door. He’d done his work for the day, he’d won. But had he really?

God only knew what time it was. The house was dark when he opened the door, stepping in and taking off his boots. He knew the drill by now, setting his duffel bag down to rest in the genkan before trudging through the shadowy rooms of his home. Could he even call it his home? Sometimes he wondered if he was still able to say he lived here.

The bedroom door was cracked open. Eijirou peeked in to see your shadowy form asleep, alone on the large mattress in the masses of blankets. He sighed and toed his way into the guest bathroom where he knew he was less likely to disturb you, cringing when he flicked on the bright light.

He caught a look at himself in the mirror as he stripped off the hoodie he wore to and from work. His hair was a tangled mess, sweat and grime still smeared on his skin. The shower sputtered to life, the din of water droplets hitting tile filling his ears. It was almost comforting; letting his thoughts drown to a low, unpleasant hum beneath the sound.

Water rolled over his skin, washing away what should have been his victory. No one’s life had really been in danger today, but he’d still stopped a villain from potentially destroying someone’s business. Why wasn’t he as happy as he should be?

Kirishima wearily went through the motions of taking a shower. He just wanted to fall into your arms and sleep, but first, maybe he should apologize for ruining your evening together. Had he even said goodbye to you as he rushed out the door?

At least he smelled considerably better when he stepped into the bedroom, changed only into a pair of loose basketball shorts. He walked up to your slumbering form, wondering if you’d wake up if he were to try and take you in his arms.

Eijirou already felt like he was in heaven as soon as he felt the soft mattress under his body. He practically melted under the already warmed blankets, the lids of his eyes suddenly feeling like lead weights when his head met his pillow. His arm draped over your side out of habit, pulling you closer into his chest before he even realized what he was doing. You began to stir, and Kirishima frowned. He hadn’t really wanted to wake you.

“Eiji?” you mumbled, still half asleep.

“It’s me,” he whispered in your ear. “I’m home now.”

You ran your hand over your face. “Did you eat? What time is it?”

“Shh, go back to sleep, honey, don’t worry about me.” Eijirou placed a soft kiss on the skin of your neck, rubbing circles on your midsection in an effort to soothe you back to rest.

“But I do worry about you,” you protested, voice still hushed. “I’m your wife.”

He sighed in defeat. “Alright, I haven’t eaten anything,” he confessed, “but I’ll make sure to get breakfast in the morning. I’m too tired right now, I just need to hold you and sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, already moving to stand. “It’s not good for you to not eat like this. I’ll get up and reheat something for you—”

“I’m fine. Really, please.” He held you down and nuzzled into your neck, not caring about the way your hair tickled his nose with every breath.

You took his hand, lacing his thick fingers with your own. “Did everything go okay?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “They just needed some emergency backup. I’m sorry I ruined movie night.”

“Oh, honey, it isn’t your fault.”

Eijirou sighed again. “I know.”

“I’m not upset with you.”

“You never are,” he mumbled, and there was a strange bitterness to it that made you frown.

“Well, it’s a part of your job—”

“Why can’t you just be angry with me?” he interjected. “Why don’t you hate me for having a job that always takes me away from you?”

You froze at his outburst, shocked. “Eijirou—?”

“I—I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, instantly regretting the way he’d spoken to you. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No, no, baby.” You turned onto your back, shuffling so Kirishima could lay his head on your chest. “There’s something going on. Please talk to me.”

He nuzzled closer into you again, holding you in his arms as your fingers began to twirl around his hair. “I just wish I didn’t have to leave you so much,” he admitted softly. “I want to be here for you.”

“But you love your job, right?”

“Of course I do.” He looked up at you so his chin rested in the valley of your chest. “But I love you more. And I feel like I don’t show that to you enough.”

You brushed his bangs out of his face, your hand moving down so your thumb could stroke his cheek. “Eiji, I know you love me.”

“Yeah . . . ,” he trailed off. “But I want to show you. Every day, like I did when we were younger. I don’t feel like it’s manly for me to leave you here by yourself all these nights, and come home late, and not be around. You deserve better than that. I want to contribute more. I want to be here for you. What if—what if something happened to you and I couldn’t protect you?” His voice seemed to break at the thought, his arms wrapped around you squeezing you even tighter.

You hummed, taking in his laments, fingers still carding through his long red hair. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure right now,” you murmured, hoping to soothe him with your actions, “but you should know by now that I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”

He nodded against your hand, but his shadowed face still looked glum.

“And yes, I miss you and I wish we had more time for each other, but I’m sure that someday it’ll change. Your job is tough right now, Ei, but this is your dream. Every day, you’re doing amazing things and I couldn’t be more proud of you. This is what you want to do in life, right?”

He nodded again. “Of course.”

“Then I’m going to support you. If this is what comes with being a hero, then we’ll just have to . . . adapt. Take things as they come, you know? You’ve got a lot on your plate and I want to help you. I know you doubt yourself sometimes and it only gets worse when you’re tired like this.”

“Mhm,” he agreed, voice a little airy and distant. He took your hand in his and began to press slow kisses to your palms and knuckles. You could see the shine of his eyes becoming more obscured by the droop of his lids.

“Maybe you can try to get a week off next time?” you suggested. “And maybe tell Bakugou to hire better back up so you won’t have to get called in like that.”

“A whole week with you,” he mused, sighing. “I’d get spoiled at that rate.”

You bent forward to kiss his forehead, smirking. “It’s nothing you don’t deserve. Either way, we’ll talk about this later, sleepyhead. You still have to go in tomorrow. Maybe it was a good thing we slept in today.”

He chuckled, turning the both of you on your sides and sliding up so he could have better access to kiss all over your face. You couldn’t help but smile at his gentle, languid movements; still determined to display his love for you even half-asleep.

“This is my favorite part of the day,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your cheek. “Coming home to you. I just feel so . . . comfortable around you.”

“You should,” you said, poking the tip of his nose. “I’m your wife.”

“Yeah. But you’re also like, warm and stuff.”

Was he even still conscious at this point?

“Goodnight, Red.”

“Goodnight, my little lovebug.”

And so you began to drift off with him. You had to admit, it had been cold and lonely sleeping without him. But now his presence overwhelmed you in all the right ways, from his fresh-out-of-the-shower scent to the feeling of his arms caging you in against his chest. You felt comfortable, yes, but also warm.

So warm.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⋆｡*ﾟ✲*

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre @basicaegyo @hyunmin-1404 @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @pyrofanatic @rainy-skys-and-bright-stars @sendhelpimstupid @sxngwoos-ash-box @xoxopam4

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled!#sugar fics

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alyss-spazz-penedo · 3 years

Text

Okay, so life has gotten STUPID stressful of late, and these days I have basically no time to indulge happy daydreams AT ALL.

Thus: screw pacing, I'm just gonna toss up this mostly-completed 11th part of the unedited v!Wind fic and then blow through the rest of this fic sometime in the next few weeks, bc I’m not adding any more content to what I’ve already got (or at least not anytime soon).

So yeah, @w1lmutt, expect a larger and more chaotic worddump than usual eventually! (I figure I can worry about proper scenes and editing nonsense if/when I ever move these words over to AO3 ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

<<First Part 10 Final>>

(I made a Masterpost for this!)

They drag the big doors open.

The inside of the cave is poorly lit and offers little in the way of room to stand; a pathway of those monster-built walkways follows the wall around to the back of the cove, but otherwise the space is all open water with an impressive ship bobbing at the center.

Tetra lets out a grunt of approval when she sees it, though she scowls at the massive cage that's been built on its deck. It’s a crude thing, large and runed with ominous symbols meant to contain the imprisoned, but otherwise the ship itself seems surprisingly understated and not-evil for the primary vessel of someone who’d conquered as much of the sea as Phantom had boasted.

At first, things seem fine. Quiet. The ship is untouched, all gangplanks pulled up and cannons pointed out but otherwise unharmed.

Then one of the pirates peeks their head over the railing and spots them.

"Boss! Swabbie! Is that you?" Niko yells, and there's blood all down his side. "Look out! Monsters afoot!"

"Niko!" Tetra calls in alarm, and the pirates who are able to scramble to lay out a plank for them to board. Phantom doesn't bother waiting, yanking his mask on and clearing the side of the ship in a single bound.

"Who did this," he begins, voice distorted by magic and fury.

Then the monsters attack, dropping from the ceiling and rising out of the sea. Every one of them bleeds black.

The heroes fight, of course. The crew has taken a beating, and the gathered Links do their best to defend the exhausted sailors—Phantom most fervently of them all.

It's hard battle. What footing there is is unstable, and their enemies many. Most of them are not suited to aquatic battles, and the waters of the cave are treacherous. They take injuries, all of them.

But when he's standing between their injured and their enemies, when his eyes are clear and sharp and his strikes deadly precise—for the first time, the gathered Links can see the look of a hero about their youngest.

~o0o~

Of course, he proceeds to thoroughly ruin that impression by the time the battle draws to a close.

The monster he's chosen is not a type of creature he recognizes—green, reptilian, fast in the water. Phantom's cut it's legs out from under it, quite literally, and so it writhes on it's elbows and stomach across the wooden deck as it tries to escape him. Outside of their little corner of the ship, the last of its comrades fall to the blades of the traveling heroes.

"Who sent you?" Phantom demands. When he doesn't get a response he likes, he drags his blade through the side of it's belly, long and nonfatal. It squeals in agony.

"You're going to die here," he observes, soft. He stomps on the wound, heedless of the dark blood splashing his sandals. "But it's going to take time. Quite some time, if you so choose. Answer me: who is your master?"

The creature gibbers. Phantom tilts his head, somehow divining meaning from the nonsensical noises of terror.

"A shadow?" he murmurs. "What-?"

Someone steps in. “What are you doing?!”

And it's only because it’s Hyrule—Hyrule who tried to help, Hyrule who’s lightning magic Phantom can still feel painful echoes of in his bones—that Phantom stays his blade. “Get out of my way,” he growls, which is better than the stabbing any of these other interlopers would’ve gotten.

A hand lands on his shoulder. Phantom's sword swings around, action to reaction with no pause for thought in between. The edge stops a hair's breadth away from Tetra's scowl.

"That's enough," she says, and shoots the lizalfos in the head.

Phantom scowls at the dead body, then at her. "I was not finished," he growls.

Tetra yanks on his ear.

"Ow! Hey!" He flails. "Leggo leggo!"

"We have more important things to worry about!" She yells, dragging him around to look at the sorry state of her crew. "Genzo needs a splint! Niko needs stitches and more bandages than we have! Everyone is beat to shit! And only one of us can fly, idiot!"

She lets go of his ear to shove him forward. Phantom stops. He looks.

"Oh," he utters, and he notices for the first time that he has blood dripping down his shield arm. He shakes his head, once, like a dog, and clutches at the wound. He feels very cold. "...Oh."

As though it had merely been waiting for his permission, the lizal corpse finally explodes into dark smoke.

"Right," he breathes. "Right."

~o0o~

"What were those," Phantom demands.

The pirates have been left in the care of the brothers who'd first opened their dojo to the traveling heroes, recuperating from their various injuries. Fortunately, none of the damage seems permanent. A few fairies, some liberally applied first aid, and all the crew should be at least back on their feet within the week.

This, however, has left the group of heroes with nowhere to stay, which led to Phantom reluctantly opening his own home to them. They're packed in there now, sprawled about both floors and generally tending to themselves with experienced hands.

"What do you think?" Legend replies snippily. Phantom scowls at them all, pacing back and forth restlessly in the tight space by the front door.

His glare lands on Four, helping Twilight wrap his wrist—on Wild getting scolded while Legend rests his ice rod on the Champion's ankle—on Hyrule tutting over Sky while Warriors dramatically bemoans his black eye—

He takes in the group's injuries with a dissatisfaction that very, very poorly covers his unease.

"You're not weak," the boy asserts. Time wonders who he's trying to convince. "You wouldn't have beaten me if you were weak. Why was this battle so difficult?"

"You didn't get off lightly yourself," Time points out, nodding to the thick mess of gauze on the boy's arm. At a guess, the boy had tried to block a blow with his shield and forgotten he wasn't wearing one. Fortunate that there's a fairy fountain on the island, or Phantom might've lost strength in that limb.

Phantom waves him off. "I was handicapped," he dismisses, not denying that he wasn't fighting at his best. Time frowns at the excuse. "I'll figure something out to compensate for it, and this won't happen again."

He gets a lot of dubious looks at that; none of them have forgotten that what he's trying to 'compensate for' is the loss of that parasite. Time's almost dreading what the boy might scrounge up to replace that.

Phantom turns away from them sulkily, unable to defend himself and unwilling to look all that suspicion in the face.

"To answer your question," Four starts, with the air of someone steering the conversation back to safer waters, "that's just the kind of journey we're on."

Sky swings his previously-dislocated shoulder in a testing motion that immediately gets him a cease-and-desist look from Hyrule, before he adds, "Those were pretty standard for black-blooded monsters, I'd say."

Twilight, catching the look on Phantom's face, rolls his eyes. "Did you think something the goddess summoned eight heroes to fight would be easy?"

Phantom scoffs, arms crossed. "It took eight of you to fight me," he grumbles, and there's the arrogant little brat they'd met at the start of this. Hopefully that means the kid's feeling better, if he's up to sassing them like that again.

Time rather doubts that—Phantom IS a Link, after all—and so the one-eyed hero makes a mental note to follow up on that later.

#Vinked Universe #the unedited v!wind fic #linked universe #my writing #fanfic #me: tries my hand at action bc this is supposed to be a LU fic #Also me: drops it like a hot potato bc I have no idea how to Fight Scene #next part is just gonna be me turning my notebook upside and shaking it until all the plunnies fall out #I hope ur prepared #this has been a lot of fun but I am just. done #i think it's clear enough where I'm going with things at this point anyways

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whump-town · 4 years

Text

Take Me to Church

Here it is: my religious!Hotch fic turned Bisexual!Hotch fic. I hope you enjoy my hard work, tears, and disaster bi-thoughts

Warning: language, sex, homosexuality **there’s no real need for a warning for that but I’d just like to market this to my fellow gays**, religious trauma, Catholic guilt, child abuse, smoking, mention of AIDS in passing but no one has it, character death(s) **not anyone major**, Aaron Hotchner’s mega big boy grande sized guilt complex, ooc bc Aaron Hotchner has the proper emotions, and just general all around intense feelings

The only Heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you, I was born sick, but I love it, Command me to be well

Word count: 5,794

Praying never made much sense to Aaron Hotchner.

As a child, he’d prayed with crimson teeth and a bleeding tongue for his mother to be spared in his father’s rampant beatings. The priest always said that prayer shouldn’t be selfish. As he sat on his bruised knees and whispered between sobs, he hadn’t been thinking about himself. He’d been thinking about the little brother in his mother’s womb. About the pregnancy that wouldn’t survive if his father didn’t stop hitting on her. About his poor mother who looked sicker each day.

He must have done something wrong because when God had answered his prayers...

“Come on now son. Don’t be difficult,” the priest’s heavy hands pull him away from his mother’s grave. His suit hadn’t fit well that morning but logged with the rain pouring overhead, it now hangs from his bones. They make their way back home. Back to his miserable son of a bitch father.

That night, the priest had tucked him into bed and Aaron rolls over in his bed to put his back to the man. As the old man turned to cut the lights, Aaron finally speaks for the first time all day. He’d found his voice deep within his chest and laced it with his father’s unhinged anger. “I killed her,” he whispers, hot tears running down his cheeks.

The priest shakes his head. “No.” And, the old man could never know this, but what he said next would stay with Aaron for the rest of his life. “It was her time, son.”

God had killed her.

That day was the first time Aaron had ever seen his father cry. He’d stood in the hallway and watched his father sob on his knees, cursing God and swearing up a storm. At seven-years-old, he wondered if God had a sense of humor. He must, after all, to leave Aaron all alone.

Ten-years later he stood in the same spot his father had kneeled in. He’d looked up at the ceiling and prayed again. He’d begged for his father’s life to be spared. “Just this once, okay, just this once---” but his father had never been a good man. A shitty excuse for a dad but Sean thinks he’s a good man. That’s what mattered: Sean. That’s the only thing that had ever mattered. “For Sean, please? He’s never done anything wrong.”

His father died two days later. A heart attack. The doctor’s called it mercy. For who? The man who beat him senseless for fifteen years before he just sold Aaron off to a boarding school. Calling Aaron’s inability to make friends and emotional outbursts the product of the devil and not his senseless beating. The same man who called Aaron writing with his left hand the simplest proof that his mother had been a whore. She had to have cheated to have created a bastard like Aaron.

Mercy? Is that really what he’d deserved?

He has bible scriptures carved into his back. Thin white lines left by his father’s heavy hand and the black belt he wore to court each Tuesday. The only mercy he’s ever known is the black surrounder right before he falls asleep. That twisted hope that maybe his dad hit him too hard. That he won’t wake up this time.

It felt like communion-- Eucharist, standing to receive his bread and wine.

The body of Christ.

“Daddy please-” he makes no sound as the belt comes down over his shoulder. Any noise is a symbol of greater guilt, a better reason to keep hitting. He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t move.

Amen.

Remember, God is always watching. No bullshitting, he knows.

Aaron cums with a cry. A sob really.

Sam lifts his head from where he’s buried it in Aaron’s neck, leaving the hickey he’d been sucking to die on its own. He sits up, his arousal forgotten as his heart pounds in his chest with fear. “Are you alright,” he asks, pulling them apart with a quick jerk. His hands are traveling down but he stops when Aaron’s hand grabs his wrist. “Baby, if I hurt you---”

Aaron shakes his head but the tears streaming down his face says otherwise. “I’m sorry,” he gasps. He buries his head in his hands, shoulders shaking as he can’t stop the tears. Sam moves out of the way of his legs, giving Aaron the space necessary to curl into himself.

Sam still has no idea what’s wrong. It had been fine. Things were fine.

It occurs to him a moment too late.

“Fuck,” he curses, seething. Not at Aaron or the mood now officially lost--- but for the boy that Aaron never got to be. To the God that Aaron believes so feverishly and unwavering in. “It’s alright,” he soothes, moving along the bed to where Aaron is. He pulls his boyfriend into his lap, holding Aaron to his chest. “Nothing is going to happen, Aaron. It’s going to be okay.”

Sam has never been religious. It wasn’t something his parents had considered important. Standing at over 6’5 and two hundred pounds of just muscle, no one even suspects he’s anything but straight. People who do know… no one’s going to say anything to a guy like him. The same thing goes for Aaron. He may be a little on the scrawny side but he’s 6’2 and no one blinks an eye at the two of them spending so much time together.

It’s not people they have to worry about.

They can be cruel and unaccepting but AIDS is still rampant through-out not only the college’s campus but through-out the gay community.

But Aaron’s a little too preoccupied with God.

Sam’s not even sure if there’s such a thing.

“Aaron!” Picking him up by his shoulders, he pulls Aaron upright. They’ve passed sobbing and moved to a panic attack. “Alright,” Sam fails to soothe. He pulls Aaron off the bed, holding him close when his legs shake beneath him. “Easy,” he mumbles, his heartbreaking--- Aaron can’t walk. It takes a great bit of work on Sam’s part but with a grunt, he lifts Aaron off his feet.

Stumbling in the direction of the bathroom, he carries Aaron. “It’s gonna be alright,” Sam promises. This isn’t the first time this has happened. Sam would like to think he’s a good boyfriend (he is). He did as much research as he could. So that he would know how to help Aaron the next time one of these events started happening.

Into the freezing shower they go.

Clutched, naked body to naked body, they rock until Aaron’s broken sobs die down. Until Sam can feel Aaron’s breathing steady out, hot exhales washing over his goosebump riddled flesh.

Against the bare skin of Sam’s shoulder, Aaron whispers Hail Mary to himself. His long fingers tapping against his thumb like counting rosary beads, “---of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now---” It’s the only coping mechanism he’s ever learned.

Sam presses a kiss to his temple. Aaron hates that he turns his head for more. Turns his head until Sam’s hands are tangled in his hair and holding him tightly. Sam kisses him softly, full of love. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Sodomy is a sin,” he whispers, against Sam’s lips.

Sam smiles, shaking his head. He doesn’t care. “Did you like it,” Sam asks, voice husky. He wraps himself back around Aaron, shaking from the cold of the water still pouring down over them. Fingers moving up Aaron’s back, he tangles them in his hair.

Aaron… knows the answer. He also knows that sin is often appealing. Sam is the sin that Aaron can never walk away from. What he always comes back for. “Yes,” he answers, honestly. He had liked it. He’d liked it a lot. Sex with Sam is gentle and overwhelming and--- sin. It’s still sin.

“That’s all that matters,” Sam presses kisses back to Aaron’s neck. Smiling against his skin when Aaron arches into the touch.

Aaron can never make Sam understand that this principle isn’t that simple. It’s a black and white morality. Heaven or hell.

But, maybe…

Sam reaches around behind him and cuts the water off, Aaron shivers against his chest leaning closer to the touches that are trailing down his body. Sam pulls him closer so that Aaron’s in his lap. With a grunt, Aaron allows Sam to push into him and mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure he falls into Sam’s shoulder.

“Jesus,” Sam curses, pulling Aaron closer. “You---” he moans, tilting his head back. This time, Aaron’s sets the pace. Slow and steady. It hurts but it’s an ache he’s familiar with. The lube from earlier mostly washed away but he’s prepped and anything is better than thinking about Hell.

His doomed eternity.

“You’re so good, baby boy.” Sam holds him close, his fingers digging into Aaron’s hips. “Fu-Fuck---”

Why is it that the only thing that has ever made sense to him a sin?

Sam dies in the middle of first semester their Junior year. Though it’s never stated, it’s Aaron’s fault. Sam wouldn’t have been on the road that if Aaron just prayed harder or been a better man. Panic attacks are a product of a shaky relationship with God and Aaron wouldn’t have had one, he wouldn’t have called Sam freaking out, if he’d just… believed harder.

Aaron knows it’s his fault. He never gets over that guilt.

He marries Haley at the end of Senior year and they invite Sam’s parents to the wedding. No one knows the true extent of Aaron and Sam’s relationship but Haley knows something was going on between the two. They’d been high school sweethearts, separated by his years spent away at college. Separated by Aaron’s love for a man.

He comes home different but she loves him. She also knows that her mother approves of Aaron’s God-fearing ways. Religion is good in a man like him, her mother had warned, you can see the darkness in him. She bites her tongue and moves on.

Until she sees the darkness too.

The divorce breaks him.

He starts having panic attacks again, worse than the ones in college. No one notices. He knows they just write him off as a dick. He’s just a robot to them. Emotionless and he can work with that. So, he is a robot. Just marching through life and flying by the seat of his pants, hoping that it all goes well.

But he knows… each night as the panic bubbles in his chest and has him falling to his knees that hell is the only place he’s going. It’s going to take more than prayers to save a sinner like him.

“Hotch?” He jumps at the sudden intrusion. Looking to his left, none other than Emily Prentiss is standing on the balcony. She’s grinning from ear to ear and shaking her head. “What are you doing up so late?”

The cigarette trapped between his lips should answer that well enough.

The thing is, he’s not as slick as he thinks he is. She’s noticed him pulling away. Dave has noticed--- hell, everyone has noticed something is wrong. So, when Emily Prentiss had been tossing and turning in her own bed and smelled the wafting, faint scent of cigarette smoke she’d gotten curious. She certainly hadn’t expected to find him.

“Mind some company?”

And with those three simple words she’d pulled him from the edge.

That night they burned through four cigarettes. Sin, that night, had been just as he remembered it once being. For a moment, as he stood--- her leaning against him and him leaning against her--- he had managed a smile. With a cigarette between his teeth, he’d taken his first real breath in years.

Foyet attacks him in his apartment and as he lies bleeding he hopes this is it. That the world will flicker out, he’s just a candle drowning it’s wax. Will there be a light or…

He wakes up in the hospital and he’s never been this cold in his life.

It’s Emily’s voice that pulls him from the white walls and the pain. She’s saying something about cigarettes and the seasons changing. He smiles, drugged and submissive, when she proposes the team go to Dave’s and get drunk. He doesn't’ even think about God, about the sin and the eternity in hell waiting for him. He just thinks about his team and the only family he’s ever really been a part of.

He wakes up thrashing--- a broken sob on his lips. There’s so much pain and he can’t think about anything other than death. Death and Hell and sin and the pain, oh fuck the pain.

Thin fingers wrap around his, squeezing and he looks up and finds JJ softly soothing him. Her fingers are ghosting along his forearms, rubbing circles into his pale skin. “Just breathe,” she instructs and he’s reminded of Sam and that freezing shower and the---

“Aaron!” she calls and the fortitude, the conviction in her eyes sobers him. “You have to stop,” she tells him, her touch turning hard and that he can focus on. That pulls him back down. “Breathe,” and slowly he relaxes again. She’s softened and he watches the tears pool in her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” she chides, softly.

He manages to squeeze her hand.

“We almost lost you,” she whispers and that hadn’t occurred to him. His death happens to other people. It’ll just be… nothing. He must be very high or maybe broken because he thinks of nothing. The nothingness that happens after death and not raging, flaming pits of hell.

JJ presses a kiss to his temple and he closes his eyes. It’s a tender love he… he’s forgotten. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she says, her thumb rubbing against his hand. “I don’t like job hunting.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that the team wouldn’t fall apart if Foyet had chosen to kill him.

She doesn’t know how to tell him that isn’t true.

Foyet does kill Haley and for a long time, it’s like he’s killed Hotch too.

“Hotch!”

The last he’d seen of Emily, she was displeased with his decision to decline his invitation to girl’s night. First, of all, he’s not that dumb. He knew damn well that they wanted him to tag along because Emily had told them about his date with the cute blonde at the coffee shop had gone tits up. Of course, she’d chosen to leave out that his date had failed because she’d entered the shop and wolf-whistled at the sight of him.

But, she has chosen to blame the entire thing on him because he should have told her.

Ah, silly him.

Now, he’s waiting on his front porch for Will to drop her off at his place. Does she have an apartment of her own? Yes. But she’s a clingy drunk and it’s custom for her to come to sleep in his bed. Besides, who else is going to hold her hair up while she pukes?

He smiles when he sees her. God… leave it to him to pick Emily Prentiss, of all people, to be his best friend. Well, he’s not really sure he chose or picked her so much as ended up within her mercy. “Emily,” he greets softly, smiling when she walks right up to him and headbutts his chest. She just falls straight into him.

He shuffles to accommodate her weight but they do this little dance frequently. With one hand on the back of her head, he raises the other to wave to Will that he’s free to go. The detective nods and pulls the car into reverse, JJ and Garcia in the back shouting their own goodbyes.

“Alright,” Hotch rubs her shoulders, shivering from the night’s chill. “Pigging back ride?”

She nods and it’s only with practiced ease that they manage this so easily.

As he stands, he gives her a second to adjust herself before he starts walking back towards his porch. This is the exact reason he does squats at the gym, so his thighs don’t shake as he carries her up the stairs.

“Oh,” Emily whines into his back, where her face is buried. “I hope I didn’t wake Jack.”

He’s overly careful to make sure he doesn’t hit her legs as he steps into the door. Stopping to shut the door behind them he tells her, “he’s not here.” He scowls with concentration as he moves down the hall. “He’s spending the weekend with his cousins.” He’d told her this earlier, too many times. It is one of the smaller reasons she’d invited him to girls night: so he wouldn’t have to be alone in his house.

They share many secrets. He’d been the first person on the team to know she’s gay. He still remains one of the few who know. JJ and Garcia know-- tequila always makes her lose her grip. He also knows that she wants to have a family and about her giant crush on JJ.

Just like she knows that sitting in his empty house stresses him out. He turns into the empty walls and all he can think about is being completely alone while Foyet was trying to hunt down his son and Haley. She knows this and… she’d left him here all by himself.

“Emily,” he whispers, feeling her hot tears soak into the back of his shirt. He’s not mad or even frustrated, he’s just sad. He can’t do anything about it just yet. So, he takes her back to his room. He helps her out of her blouse, replacing it with his George-town hoodie so she can curl her legs into.

Only once she’s situated, his back turned so she can hiccup and dry her tears while she slips into a pair of her own shorts he kneels down in front of her. “Emily.” He shakes his head, she’s still inconsolable, so he pulls her to his chest. “Emily, I’m a grown man.” He rubs her back, “I can handle being in my own home.”

She only cries harder and it hurts him because whatever it is that’s really bothering her he can’t fix.

“Would you love me more if I wasn’t a lesbian,” she asks, sobbing into his shoulder.

Well… he blanks. What is he even supposed to say to that? Now she’s really crying and he’s-- he can’t think of a single thing to say. “Emily…” he shakes his head. “I--I don’t care that you’re a lesbian.” And why would he? How many times have they had the ‘it would be like kissing my brother/sister’ conversation? Or the ‘even if I were straight…’? He doesn’t feel sexually attracted to her.

He just… he loves her because she’s his family.

“You don’t,” she asks, sniffling. She pushes his shoulders away from her so that she can see his eyes. So she can see if he’s lying. “You don’t hate me?” Because she’s certain that he does sometimes. Like he can stand the thought of her.

He shakes his head. “It would be very hypocritical of me to hate you for being gay,” he says, without really thinking about what that means. At what he’s admitting.

Though she doesn’t say anything, the admission sobers her. With tender care he tucks her into bed. Smiling softly when she pulls him down beside her.

They fall asleep on their sides, facing one another. He falls asleep first. Too exhausted to wait her out. Between them, she gently reaches over and brushes her thumb over his cheek bone. Trialing it along the facial hair he’s let grow over the course of their long weekend off.

He breaks her heart.

“So, are we just not going to talk about it?”

They’re watching a basketball game from earlier in the week because it’s Tuesday and she gets to pick what they watch on Tuesdays. Granted, it’s sports and he hates sports which means that he gets to pick whether or not they sit close. She knows something is wrong because he puts the entire couch between them. They’re not even sharing a blanket and he always lets her have some of his blankets.

She gets cold easily.

“Talk about what, Emily?” The way he says her name… it’s not right. He always says Emily kindly, loving. He says her name and it makes her proud to be Emily but this time it’s a reprimand and she sees it for exactly what it is—- an attempt to push her away. To make her feel afraid to push on.

But she’s been gay for so long, openly gay. It takes more than a little bit of attitude to scare her off. “You,” she says, softly. “You’re gay, Aaron, and—-“

He flinches at the word gay. Recoiling. “Emily,” his tone shifts to pleading.

“You—-“ she shifts too. She turns her body to face her, no longer relaxed. “Aaron, there’s nothing wrong with being gay.”

Sodomy, Aaron thinks. First and for most, there’s sodomy and it’s a sin to love a man. A sin to love men in a way he could never love Haley. Which Emily would understand if he told her about his sex life with Haley. Rather, his nonexistent sex life with Haley. He loved Haley so much but he could never love her the right way. The way God had intended.

By the time he manages to raise his eyes to hers, there are tears streaming down his face. He’s so helplessly broken and he can’t even hide it.

“Oh, Aaron.” Emily pulls him against her chest, rubbing up and down his back as he sobs. “I…” she doesn’t know what to say. She knows it’s the Catholisim here at play but her youth was so very different from his. Matthew had saved her from the fate Aaron had succumbed to. Matthew had shown her the churches many faults and…

Aaron had no one.

No one but the Bible and a God who never answered back.

“There’s nothing wrong with being gay,” she whispers, rocking their bodies gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you Aaron.”

He sobs even harder. He wishes he could believe that. He does. He wishes he could but…

They agree to never talk about it. Meaning, Emily begrudgingly lets it go.

The universe isn’t ready for Hotch to shove it under the rug though.

There’s this barista at the coffee shop downtown--- more than a barista, he’s the owner, actually. He’s a giant. He almost makes Hotch feel small in comparison. In college, he’d been a football player but he’d messed his knee up pretty bad Junior year. He became dependent on the painkillers he’d received after surgery. He’d dropped out of college a few months later.

Hotch learns all of this only after two coffees.

One that he has Monday with the man’s phone-number and name scribbled onto the side of his cup. His cheeks had turned a furious shade of pink when Morgan had asked who Charlie is and if she was pretty. For some reason, despite coaching himself over and over in the mirror that he’d never go back--- Hotch goes back to the coffee shop Thursday.

This time as Hotch is handing the other man a five dollar bill he adds his own phone-number and name attached with a simple sticky-note.

He’s not even out the door yet when his phone vibrates.

“I thought I’d scared you off, mysterious FBI man.”

It makes him stop in his tracks. A smile tugs at his lips and there isn’t a single thought in his head about church or God or his father just this impossibly good feeling in his chest. It’s been so long since he’s done the flirting thing but he replies: “As good as mysterious FBI man sounds, I typically go by Aaron. Besides, it takes a little bit more than a phone-number to scare me off”

The texts keep coming and Hotch doesn’t mind.

Charlie tells him about college and Hotch tells him about the team. It’s out of character for him to be so open but it’s just coffee and flirting and a really hot barista.

The feeling is very mutual.

“Kiss me, g-man.”

Hotch shakes his head, chuckling when Charlie throws his hips over Hotch’s waist. “You’d better---” whatever threat he’s making half-heartedly turns into a groan when Charlie starts planting open mouth kisses along his collar. Sucking a hickey under his ear where it will be painfully obvious to the team.

When Hotch lets out a grunt, his hand grabbing at Charlie’s shirt and the other going to his hair Charlie laughs. He buries his face in Hotch’s neck, his hand traveling down to the front of his pants. “Is that your gun?” he pulls back with a smirk.

Lightly, he pushes Aaron back on the bed. Charlie’s nimble fingers wrap around his jeans, pulling the tight fabric off of his ass.

“I don’t remember asking for this,” Hotch grunts, fist clenched tightly in the bedsheets. It’s the only way he can assure that he won’t go bucking into Charlie’s palm the minute he starts touching again. He’s not going to cave like that.

To his credit, Charlie stops. He plants his hands on both sides of Hotch’s hips, his mouth sending a dangerous gust of warm air over Hotch’s straining cock. He lifts an eyebrow, “say the word, Aaron.” Say the word and it stops. They don’t dance along fancy lines like that. Charlie wouldn’t do that.

Sitting up, Aaron wraps his legs around Charlie’s hips. He runs his fingers up through Charlie’s hair, kissing him. With a smile he pulls away and whispers, “fuck me, Charlie.”

And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do just that.

Sodomy is way better than Aaron remembers.

They’re about three months into this when Charlie learns that Hotch hasn’t told a soul about him. At least, not really. Not past the point of passing in conversation. Hell, he hasn’t even told them that Charlie isn’t some bombshell blonde woman but a 6’4 black man who owns the coffee shop.

“Fine,” Hotch caves despite the anxiety leaving him so unnerved he’s shaking. “Do you want to come with me to Dave’s this weekend?” He’s got an edge to his tone. He’s hoping Charlie takes the bait and rolls his eyes. He almost hopes for a fight.

Charlie nods his head, “I would like to, actually.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s far from it.

He sits on edge for the rest of the week. Begging for a case. None come.

If Charlie has anything to say about Hotch letting go of his hand when they step out of the car, he doesn’t say anything. He does offer him a supportive smile, reaching between them to squeeze Aaron’s bicep.

“Dave,” Hotch breathes the other man’s voice and Charlie can hear the panic seeping into his deep tone. But then he just blanks.

Charlie stretches his hand out, “I’m Charlie.”

Dave gets over his momentary shock very quickly. “Charlie,” Dave shakes his head with a smile. He avoids the hand being offered and pulls the younger man in for a hug. “I have heard so much about you! I was just a little shocked. I was expecting--”

Charlie laughs, “a woman.”

Dave claps him on the back. “Well, yes, I was.” He smiles at Hotch next, pulling him in for a hug too. Dave can feel just how unnerved Hotch is but he doesn’t comment. He just squeezes him a little tighter. “More so,” Dave says, “I was expecting a blonde. He really likes blondes.”

Charlie glances back at Aaron, keeping his smile in place even when Aaron can’t look up from his intense battle with the floor.

“Well, come on in! I’ve got enough bourbon and food in here to feed a small army!”

Charlie steps inside first, Aaron hot on his heels.

Charlie turns around, to look back at Aaron. Calling the other man’s name for attention. “Aaron,” he calls softly, grabbing his hand. “Show me to the bathroom.”

Hotch nods his head, eyes vacant as he moves on through the room. Ghosting. “It’s, ugh,” Hotch points lamely to the door.

Charlie pulls him into the small room. Aaron making a small grunt of protest. “Look at me,” says, stern but not overbearing. “Aaron, please.”

It takes a moment but Aaron pulls his eyes off the floor. He grimaces when a tear falls down his cheek, ashamed of this display of emotion. This vulnerability.

With a sad smile, Charlie wipes it away with the pad of his thumb. “They didn’t know did they?”

Leaning forward, Hotch buried his face in Charlie’s blue t-shirt. It’s old and soft and it does nothing to slow his tears. He shakes his head. “They didn’t.”

Fuck. Charlie wraps his arms around Hotch, pulling him close. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

What other options are there? If Charlie hadn’t forced his hand Hotch would have happily died in the blissful lie he’d created. He could have died alone. No need to come out. Hell, if he’d just found another blonde woman he could have married her and died “straight”.

Anything is better than this in-between.

“Aaron,” Charlie breathes his name sadly. He doesn’t know what to say. His family had disowned him. So, he can’t just reassure Aaron it’ll be okay but Dave took it so well. “Have you even given them a chance?”

Well… Dave did take it very well and Emily already knows.

“No,” he answers honestly.

Charlie presses a kiss to his temple, asking, “maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt?”

A knock at the door makes them both jump.

“Hotch,” Reid whines from the other side. “I really have to go.”

Hotch smiles and that makes Charlie smile. “Good?” he asks.

Hotch nods, “good.”

The pair step out of the bathroom.

Reid blushes and slides past.

“You don’t think he thinks we were…”

Hotch nods, “more than likely.”

Heading back down the hall, Charlie leans into Hotch’s side. “Which one was that?”

“Reid.”

Charlie hums his understanding. Cuter than he’d imagined. Aaron had said tall and thin but it really did the genius no justice. He’s an attractive young man. “You didn’t tell me he was cute.”

Wrapping his arm around Charlie’s waist he pulls the other man closer. His heart is beating hard in his chest but he kisses the other man, closing his eyes and enjoying this moment. Separating just enough to say, “I think he said he plays for your team. If you’re interested.”

“My team,” Charlie repeats. He runs a finger along Aaron’s brow, sweeping his hair back. “My team is you,” Charlie rolls his eyes. “Doofus.”

Hotch’s jaw drops. “Doofus?”

Charlie smiles, “my doofus.”

Emily stops at the mouth of the hall, having heard the dee rumbling sound of voices “That’s fucking adorable.”

Hotch groans, pushing his face into Charlie’s chest.

“Don’t groan at me,” she says. “You’re the bastard that came out to me. Ghosted me. Then went and got a boyfriend.”

Hotch grimaces, “Emily…”

She waves him, turning her attention to Charlie. “You,” she sticks her hand out and they share a handshake. “You got yourself a good one. He can be an ass though.”

Charlie chuckles at that, “he really can be. Also, insufferable.”

Emily opens her mouth in happy shock. “Right? What about him being a know-it-all?”

Charlie nods, “don’t forget being a tight ass.”

Hotch feels a comment about their sex lives attempting to roll of his tongue. Something along the lines of Charlie saying he’d liked his ass last night— instead he just grunts. “Enough about me,” he grumbles.

Emily smiles at both of them. She really is happy. Hotch deserves to be happy. With a smirk she motions for them to follow her. “Come on, drinks?”

Somehow, despite everything Hotch had convinced himself, everything is fine.

Charlie ends up wondering off with Morgan. The two deep into a conversation about a beam Morgan’s building around. Hotch had watched Charlie gag down Garcia’s awful shots and listen to Reid talk about thermodynamics.

And when Hotch’s anxiety started getting bad again, Charlie was right there. Hotch hadn’t said anything, he didn’t even close himself off. Emily had just excused herself to go yell about something with JJ, leaving him leaning against the bar in the kitchen. But Charlie had come up and squeezed his hand. Winking for good measure. Hotch’s anxiety, like his heart, melted into a puddle around his feet.

“Goodbye,” Emily wishes them a farewell. She kisses both their cheeks and holds on to Hotch a moment longer than she normally would. “So, does this mean we’re back on for movie nights?”

Hotch nods. He’s missed their movie nights. He’s missed hanging out with her.

In the end, it’s the two of them and Dave.

Hotch’s anxiety rears it’s ugly head. Another painful reminder of the childhood he’ll never escape. Of God and sin and hell. The Catholic Church is solid force in Dave’s life and he’s askin Dave to choose. And Aaron knows he’s not going to be chosen.

“You boys good to drive home?” Dave hands Charlie a Tupperware container of leftovers.

Charlie nods, “we’re okay.”

Well, Charlie is. Hotch is little tipsy and one wrong word away from throwing up on the porch.

“Be safe,” Dave says, pulling Charlie in for a hug first. He pats his back, lowering his head to whisper. “Take care of my boy, you here?”

It makes Charlie smile. They’d briefly discussed Aaron’s real father but Charlie can see exactly what Aaron had meant when he said Dave had been the man that raised him. He’s gentle and firm and Charlie is glad Aaron was able to find a father. “Of course,” Charlie responds. “Someone has to.”

That makes Dave chuckle. Damn right.

“Come here, son.” Aaron’s always been bigger than Dave, not that he minds. He pulls him down into his arms, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Lowering his voice he whispers, “I’m glad you brought Charlie. He’s a good man. I’m proud of you.”

Hotch feels the dam break. He wraps his arms tighter around Dave, all of his youth and sexuality and feelings finally making sense. He doesn’t have to chose. He can be himself and be happy, it’s allowed.

Aaron Hotchner didn’t kill his mother or his mother. He’s always done his best and that’s all he can do.

“You’re a good man,” Dave whispers, rubbing his back.

And… Aaron might just be starting to believe him.

#criminal minds #tw child abuse #out of character #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #sean hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #haley hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #tw cigarettes #lesbian emily prenitss #george foyet

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littleoddwriter · 3 years

Note

hi! can i request (only if you feel comfortable, if not its totally fine, ignore this!) some trans roman? and maybe victor helping him with his dysphoria?

Dysphoria | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hey! :) Gosh, yes, of course! Thank you so much for this request, you have no idea how excited I got when I read it! I absolutely projected on Roman and thought about him being trans a lot over the last year. So, of course, most of what is written here have been my own experiences, projected on him (not 100% the same, ofc, but--- yeah. I'm pre-everything for example, so, that's already not accurate, but other things that I'm not gonna point out here). Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this, mate! <3

summary; Roman is trans and some day into everything, his dysphoria thought to fuck him over more than usual. Victor helps him through it.

notes; TW // Gender Dysphoria; Mentions of Periods (one sentence); Past Child Abuse (being beaten); Transphobia (nothing explicit, but-); Crying; Self-Harm (punching); Dissociation; essentially Roman's having a BPD Episode bc I always write him having BPD even if not explicitly stated. Trans!Roman, who is on T, but hasn't had Top Surgery, yet. Hurt/Comfort; Showering (mentioned); Cuddling; Kissing; Reassurance; Victor being a good BF.

From the day on that his body has- developed further, Roman’s known that it wasn’t right, that something about the way his body has changed was so utterly and terribly wrong. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it for a long time, uneducated as he’d been, no thanks to his parents who’ve made sure he’d never be exposed to such things.

So no, of course he hadn’t realised that he wasn’t crazy, but in fact experiencing gender dysphoria.

The understanding and connection he felt with other boys, but not with girls; the way he desperately tried to hide his curves when they started to be visible; the way he thought he was dying, when he first menstruated; the way he’s been crying and feeling such burning rage, when he’s looked at his naked form in the mirror; the way he’s thought that if he was a boy, he’d be happier.

He’s not known for a long time that this was an experience a surprising amount of people have made before him, alongside him.

When he’s finally found people describing their own experiences and learned through those that he truly wasn’t alone with his feelings, he also started to gather more information on the right terminology: Transgender; Gender Dysphoria and Euphoria; Binding; Packing; Social and/or Medical Transition; Hormone Replacement Therapy; Top Surgery; Bottom Surgery; Bottom Growth, and so forth.

Roman marvelled at the possibilities for him to bring out the man inside of him to the outside world, for others to see and recognise. He’s been so ecstatic, doing all kinds of research into it and starting to slowly carry it out to the world around him.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t gone over very well at all. He’s gotten to feel his father’s strength, balled into fists, for the first time in a couple of years, after he’s stated his refusal to wear a dress to the gala because it made him uncomfortable. He’s cut his hair shorter just before that, too, which had upset his parents greatly.

Still, he hadn’t let them deter him. Then he was on his own until he was an adult and able to move out. He’d deal with it somehow. It was fine.

And it really had been fine for a while – up until he’s gathered all his courage to come out to his parents, actually.

Surprisingly, his father hadn’t beaten him into a pulp, like he’d expected. Instead – and really, for Roman this was a lot worse than the beating – his parents had kicked him out and written him out of their will, pulling the plug on him ever receiving another cent of the family’s fortune. He’d been allowed to take his things with him until the late night and then he’d been supposed to be out for good. That was exactly what he’d done, too.

Lucky for him, though, he’s opened a bank account a while ago, setting aside most of his allowance there, just to be safe. Although, frankly, he’s done it to pay for hormones and surgery with it, but that was alright. He’d get that money back eventually, so much more than that, too.

Years later, he’s finally come to the point, where he’s changed his name and sex on all documents, now he’s officially been registered as Roman Beauvais Sionis. It was euphoric, really. He’s also started Hormone Replacement Therapy, and it worked out brilliantly for him.

Still, he’s not had Top Surgery, yet. Why? Well, he was scared for one. He didn’t fucking trust doctors, either. And somewhere along the way, he’s become so conscious of having an immaculate looking body that he just didn’t want to ruin it with surgical scars under his pectorals. It had to sound silly to some people, since his chest dysphoria wasn’t exactly light either, but every time he so much as thought about it and informed himself about it, he ended up with a fucking panic attack. So he’s put it on the back burner for the time being.

It hasn’t really bothered him too much, yet. He worked well with sports bras, binders, and tapes, sometimes nothing at all either, albeit rarely.

His partner in crime (and more), Victor Zsasz, who he’s met about two years ago, has taken it in stride that Roman wasn’t a ‘typical man’ and he was secretly grateful for it. It’s been something he’s always been cautious of, but fortunately Zsasz wasn’t typical by any means either. He didn’t care what was between Roman’s legs or on his chest, as long as it was Roman and no one else. Charming, really.

One late afternoon, though, Roman’s been feeling a little off all day long. It wasn’t anything new; his moods fluctuated between extremes very quickly all the time. Still, he could very well live without days on which he’s felt as though his skin was too tight and like he was one very minor inconvenience away from breaking down crying.

He’s gone to take a shower, washing off the day’s grime before changing into something more comfortable. All business meetings for the day had been taken care of by then and with the way he’s been feeling, he’s made no plans on going downstairs to oversee his club.

After his shower – throughout which he’s kept his eyes closed for most of it, having taught himself to navigate through it mostly without seeing at all by then – it’s all come to a tipping point, apparently.

Still naked, his eyes swept over the mirror, glancing at his own body quickly.

Roman’s been working out since he’s gone on testosterone, making sure his body looked more and more masculine as the years have passed. He was pleased with the progress he’s made.

But when he caught that glimpse of his chest, he stopped short. Overwhelming sadness, disgust and rage broke through to the surface, suffocating him all too suddenly.

Quickly, he pulled the light grey cotton shirt over his head, making sure it sat loose enough. He looked back into the mirror.

It was as though suddenly all masculinity had been stripped off him.

He could see the curves on his chest, his shirt not loose enough to cover them up entirely without anything binding them. He’s stopped binding all day long a while ago, having started to feel more comfortable, thanks to Victor and the hormones’ affects. It didn’t change the fact that in this very moment, it was all too visible – his previous femininity.

Roman kept on looking, all aforementioned emotions overwhelming him more and more, so quickly and suddenly, practically choking him from inside.

And then he was screaming.

He was crying, sobbing violently.

He was punching his thighs first and then the mirror, cracking it.

All of a sudden he was stopped from continuing.

His wrists were being held in a strong grip.

His vision was blurry.

He was still convulsively sobbing and shaking.

“Roman.” It sounded so far away, almost distorted, but he could tell it was Victor. His Victor.

“Roman, hey. Look at me.” It was becoming clearer with every word.

Snivelling still, Roman tried his best to focus on coming back, on looking at his partner. The tight grip Zsasz had on his wrists helped grounding him more easily, more quickly. Fresh tears rolled down his red, puffy cheeks, but it cleared his vision a little. He looked straight into Victor’s beautiful deep, yet empty, brown eyes.

“You’re okay, Roman. I’ve got you. I promise,” Zsasz assured him, sounding so calm and so convinced of his promise.

Roman nodded jerkily, although he didn’t believe Victor entirely.

Then Roman tried to get his arms out of Zsasz’s hold, which he tightened at first, but let him go eventually. He must’ve seen how worked up Roman was getting.

Finally released, Sionis wrapped his arms around Victor, embracing him tightly, pressing himself against him, so that nothing could possibly get between them. Zsasz immediately reciprocated and put his arms around Roman’s waist, holding onto him, while he started crying again, the violent sobs shaking his entire body, cries of anguish leaving his lips. His voice sounded so abused, so raw and broken.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, boss. I’m here for you, Roman,” Victor shushed him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

After a while, Roman started to calm down, his snivels dying down to quiet hiccups, tears having long stopped to actually fall.

He released Zsasz from the embrace and rubbed his hands over his face, groaning frustrated. It was so wet. He was disgusted. He turned towards the sink and washed his face with cold water, rubbing it dry with his towel.

He didn’t spare another look into the mirror.

Afterwards, Roman and Victor walked over to their bed, lying down on it. Roman cuddled into his partner, burying his face in the crook of his scarred neck, wrapping his arms around his waist and tangling their legs. Zsasz put his right arm around Roman’s shoulders and with the other one’s hand he held onto his forearm over his own stomach, stroking his thumb over the soft skin there in soothing circles.

“D’you wanna tell me what happened?” Victor asked quietly.

“Fucking gender dysphoria is what happened,” Roman murmured against Zsasz’s skin, sounding agitated, still.

Victor sighed sadly.

“You know it’s lying to you, Roman. You’re a man. Doesn’t fucking matter what your biological sex is or whatever.”

Roman scoffed, “But I’m not a real man. I was a fucking- I can’t even say it,” another frustrated groan, “I looked into the mirror and all I could see was-“

“No,” Victor interrupted him, “Roman, you are a real man. Whatever you thought you saw in the mirror wasn’t real. Your mind’s playing tricks on you to make you feel bad about yourself. You’re as much as a man as me. Or literally any other fucking guy here in Gotham, more so than some of them, too. I promise.”

“You really think so?” Roman nearly whispered, lifting his head to look at his partner, assessing him.

“Yes,” was Victor’s simple answer, such conviction in his eyes and voice, it was palpable – it took Roman’s breath away.

Roman nodded, “’Kay,” he paused for a long moment; then he leaned down and kissed Victor on his full lips, a very small smile stretching his own, “Thank you.”

He rarely ever said ‘thank you’ to anyone at all, but he knew it was the only appropriate response he had for Zsasz’s constant reassurance – his help.

Instead of saying anything else, they started kissing, tenderly making out and enjoying each other’s company, warmth, and mere presence.

Roman may not have always felt complete security about his identity, but he’s never been alone with it either. Victor’s unfailingly been staying by his side, fending off bigots, unbelievers and even his own mind day in and out.

He couldn’t possibly find the right words for just how grateful he was.

He thought that no words could even come close to describing it.

#tw gender dysphoria #tw past child abuse #tw bpd episode #tw dissociation #roman sionis #roman sionis fanfiction #victor zsasz #victor zsasz fanfiction #zsaszmask #zsaszmask fanfic #trans headcanon #trans character #mlm ship #mlm fiction #mlm fanfic

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saiiboat · 3 years

Text

Okay!!!! Prime defenders Consequences and Healing au!!!

(so many spoilers. dont read if you dont want spoilers bc there are. a lot)

also tw for talking abt injury (burns especially), and partial loss of eyesight

I personally think that there should be more consequences for after the party.

Burn survivor Dakota! He has major burns that cover the entire left side of his face, a bit down his neck, and a bit on the outsides of his palms. Another major burn covers his right leg, where it was also broken from the crashing of part of the warehouse. He's able to stay up and moving until just before Wavelength gets there, and he passes out in William's arms due to the sheer pain and exhaustion.

William comes back different, and Vyncent has to grapple with the fact that he isn't alone in his head.

And Mark (His name is Wavelength. Wavelength.), has to deal with this one kid who William had frantically shoved into his arms. This kid who had taken a flame thrower to the face and kept moving and saved all of his friends. This one kid who learned that his father figure had been kidnapped to God knows where before he finally ran out of adrenaline and passed out. It was a silent ride back to his house: headphone kid riding shotgun, with William in the back, carefully holding his friend. Wavelength occasionally glances back at the horrid fresh burns on the kid's face and neck, and puts a bit more pressure on the gas. He sends Vyncent into the basement to tie up Doug and grab his first-aid kit, and has William open the door to Ashe's room for him. His kid knows more first aid than him, and getting to a hospital is impossible right now, what with all the villains crawling the city. It's not like he could pay the hospital bills, anyway. Before he even knows what's happening, Ashe is using the book, and William and Headphones- Vyncent are heading to the spirit world, and he has a kid to take care of. He gives the kid one hell of a drug, and sets his broken leg.

The kid's face is raw and red and painful, and wavelength does his best to bandage him up but the kid wakes up screaming. Dakota scrambles away from him, his face half bandaged, and he's cowering on the opposite edge of the bed, pressing himself up against the wall.

"Woah, woah kid I'm- I'm not gonna hurt you. It's okay. You're okay."

It's obvious the kid doesn't believe him, but the words do calm him down enough.

"Who are you? Where's Tide? Where are my friends?" The kid looks at him with a desperation he had recognized in himself at one time, and he lets out a breath. "My name's- my names Mark. I guess you could say I'm a friend of Williams. Tide is- Your friends are helping him out right now. They've roped my kid into it, too." At the mention of Tide, Dakota relaxes. It probably helps that Wavelength twisted it a bit. He doesn't need to know the full truth right now. Dakota ends up letting him finish wrapping his burns, although not without lots of discouraged poking at the dead nerves. He ends up drifting off, and Mark carefully tucks him in. He's missed taking care of someone, he realizes. He hopes Ashe is okay. Dakota wakes up screaming again in the next hour, and Mark is careful around the kid's wounds as he holds him against his chest. He's seen the kid in action, and its a stark contrast against this sobbing child. Through sniffling and wet words, Mark learns that he wants to murder the kid that's unconscious in his basement. They bond over the next 6 hours or so, Dakota leaning up against his shoulder and Mark talking proudly about his son, and Dakota doing the same about his friends.

Its just past the 8 hour mark when Ashe, William, and Vyncent come back, shaken, tattered, and bloody.

Dakota shoots up from his side, immediately launching himself towards his family. "Guys? Where were you? Tide what happened? Tide?" Mark gets up to take Tide to lay him on the couch, and is stopped by Dakota's hand on his arm. "What happened? Mark, you said he was okay!" The desperation and hurt in his voice gives a pang in his heart, but he ignores it. "I said your friends were helping him, kid. You didn't need to hear the rest. Not now, you didn't." He was really hoping the kid would be mad at him for twisting the truth, but right now Dakota just looks- he just looks hurt. Mark turns away. "Come on, kid. Let's get Tide set on the couch and bandage up your friends." It takes him a minute, but it doesn't escape his notice that William has yet to pull down his hood. Vyncent looks jumpy, and Ashe looks like he's about to pass out. So much has happened to these kids in the past 12 hours, and there's only so much Mark can do. He tells Ashe that Dakota is taking his room for a bit, but that the spare room is going to get a couple new beds.

He's used to Ashe dancing around him and avoiding him, and to be fair, he does the same- but it almost hurts more after hours of looking after a kid that isn't his.

---

Tide wakes up a few hours later, and the kids near throw a party to celebrate the fact their dad is still alive. Mark however... doesn't know how to feel. Tide yells at him for letting the kids go to the spirit world, and Mark yells at him back for putting them in that situation. He immediately regrets his words when a stricken look takes over Tide's face, and the argument ends with the two of them sitting in a corner of the yard, an arm wrapped tightly around Tide's shaking frame.

They don't talk about it, but it isn't the couch that Tide sleeps on that night, nor the night after that.

They've slept together before, but not like this- never like this. It isn't romantic, but sometimes Tide will reach for him in the middle of the night, and Wavelength -Mark- will reach back for him. They don't do anything, but sometimes Mark will hold Tide close and press his lips to the crown of his head. It's nothing like the hatred-filled nights that they've had before, filled with anger, hurt, and regret, but it's more than he ever thought he would get again. He knows he should bring it up with Ashe, but the guilt of moving on is all-consuming. But Tide gives him soft kisses and holds him as he cries, and Ashe gives him a smile, and a knowing look in the morning, and it feels like its time he forgave himself.

---

Tide is a bit confused by this whole situation. So much has happened in just the past week, but now he has to deal with all of his kids in love, as well as this other kid. Ashe's the hellspawn of a supervillain, except he's not because he's very sweet and appreciates his beef stroganoff, and maybe Wavelength can just be Mark instead of something to be feared.

He thinks about Mark taking such tender care in changing Dakota's dressings, about Mark ruffling William's hair, about Mark learning about the Mage and Paladin, and Vyncent-With-A-Gun, and Mark relearning how to talk to and spend time with Ashe, and-

Oh.

He hasn't felt this kind of love before.

---

Dakota's burns are healing nicely. The lighter ones covering his body are mostly healed, and its a matter of draining pressured blisters, rubbing on ointment, and changing dressings, but all-in-all, he's coming along. The burns on the left side of his face, neck, and leg are the most serious, and his left eye is a mess. Mark doubts he'll see out of it again. There's a bump on Dakota's legs from where the break set weirdly, but ignoring the burns, it seems to work just fine. The kids are patient with him, and a lot of time is spent relearning how to view the world without depth-perception. A lot of this is done through Mariokart and cooking s'mores in the back yard, and the other kids scheme together to drag Dakota outside for a lax game of catch. Tide helps him get the legal documents to sign them up for online school, and most things are fine. The kids spend too much time sitting too close, but so do he and Tide, so who's he to judge?

---

Everything smooths out, eventually, and Mark sells the house and moves them up to his cabin that sits up in the mountains to the North of New Haven. It was too dangerous to stay in the city, and he knows that at some point they'll have to up and move again, but for now things are... they're good. He sits on the porch swing and watches in contentment as the kids finally get the chance to be kids.

He's happy, he realizes, and he'd be damned if the others weren't, too.

#just roll with it #jrwi #jrwi prime defenders #dakota cole #mark winters #jrwi wavelength #jrwi tide #william wisp #vyncent sol #ashe winters #jrwi fanfic #our writing #consequences and healing au

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jeyusos-girl · 4 years

Text

Let Me Help You

Prologue to ‘Expecting’

Summary: Erik and his girl out on a date and Erik’s being his usual freaky self. *Inspired by this picture*

Warnings: cursing, some touchy feeling freaky shit😙

Word count: 2329

A/N: this is my first ever imagine, feel free to leave comments, things I should maybe work on, I appreciate it😙😙 also i used myself as inspiration for eriks girls so that’s where most of her appearance details came from 😭 Just another note, i edited this and replaced ‘Y/N’ with my name bc i want this to be apart of a series thingy im putting together.

……………………………………...

“Come on girl, damn!” Erik shouted for the umpteenth time.

“I’m coming, shit! This room is a damn mess, I can’t find my jacket. Jesus!” Samantha yelled from their bedroom.

“Don’t give me attitude, little girl, that’s all your shit in there. I told you to stop buying shit you don't need.” he chided.

“Whatever! Big ass head,” she replied.

“I heard that!” he laughed, shaking his head.

Erik and his girl, Samantha, have been together for a little over 3 years. They met at a local nightclub in downtown Oakland. It was a Friday night, Samantha was out celebrating a friend's birthday while Erik and his boys were celebrating the end of a busy ass week. Erik scanned the bar while sipping on his drink of choice, Hennessy, when his gaze fell upon Samantha. She caught his eye, to say the least, mostly because of her tight, bright red mid-length dress that accentuated every dip and curve her shapely body had to offer. The slit of the dress just high enough to have Erik salivating at the sight of her soft, pillowy thighs. Her dark, curly shoulder-length hair was fluffed to perfection and bounced with every step she made.

He was mesmerized, not wanting to look away. The more he stared the more he noticed about her, the snake eyes piercing that poked out whenever she licked her full lips, the butterfly tattoo on her left foot, her ass jiggling in that tight ass dress. ‘She definitely got no panties on’ he thought, biting his lip. His eyes scanned her body once more, making their way from her legs to her face just in time for them to lock eyes. She looked him up and down and shot him a smirk in which he reciprocated, flashing the golds in his mouth. She shook her head with a slight smile and continued her path to the bar. At that moment he knew, she was gonna be his even if he had to get on his knees and beg. Boy did she make him work for it.

Erik still thinks about it sometimes, how Samantha made him prove he really wanted to be with her and not just fuck her life up.

“I just wanna know if you're actually for real like you’re not gonna hit it and quit it. I don’t wanna have to go through that again.” Samantha confessed. She and Erik were sitting in his car, parked in the empty parking lot of Samantha’s favorite fast food joint.

“If I wasn't for real I wouldn't be here right now. I told you I'll do whatever to prove it to you. I just want to show you how a real man can take care of you. Don’t let past relationships block your blessings. Let me bless you, girl.” he finished, pinching her cheek. She smiled sweetly and leaned in for a kiss. Their lips crashed, moving in sync against each other. They pulled away, both sporting the cheesiest smiles. “Big ass head.” Erik laughed pushing Samantha’s head away.

“Hey! Rude.” Samantha scolded playfully.

Erik was scrolling through twitter laughing occasionally at some dumb tweets he saw when he heard footsteps descending from the staircase. He snapped his head towards the sound and saw his girl in all her glory. He looked her up and down and groaned internally. She wore black biker shorts that stopped in the middle of her thick thighs, a black spaghetti strap crop top, a jean jacket and a pair of red Jordan 1s. He gave her one more look before speaking, “You’re lucky you look so damn good or else I’d be telling you off ‘bout how long you took getting ready.” His eyes never left her as she walked up to him and put her hands on his chest. He couldn't resist the urge to reach around and grab a handful of her ass, groaning as he did so. “Damn, baby,” he shook his head and started placing sloppy kisses on her neck, “so soft.” He bit her neck, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from his girl.

“Okay stop, you be doing too much,” she moaned as he continued kissing and sucking on her neck, “we’ll never make it out the house at the rate you're going.” Samantha exclaimed.

“Aight aight, I’ll chill for now. But when we get back home your ass is gonna get it.” he finished giving her ass a hard smack.

“Ow! Babe!” Samantha yelped rubbing her butt to stop the stinging.

……………………………………...

A comfortable silence fell over the car as they listened to whatever song was on the radio. The pair were on their way to a new arcade that opened up in their area a few weeks ago. They had everything from pool tables, air hockey, old school arcade games, pinball machines, even TVs with a few different consoles, you name it. Samantha was the one who suggested it, she loved arcades. Erik took her to Dave and Buster’s for their first date, needless to say, that was one of the best dates Samantha’s ever had.

Samantha looked to the driver’s side admiring the man next to her. She was too lost in thought to notice the glance he threw her way. “What?” he questioned, smiling as Samantha snapped back to reality.

“Hm?” she hummed.

“What you looking at, girl?” he asked, looking at her once more.

“Oh, nothing.” she grinned.

“Mmhm,” he replied playfully. She giggled and looked out her window.

The last 15 minutes of the car ride went by fast. They pulled up to the place, hearing the music already. Erik hopped out of the car and jogged to Samantha’s side to open her door. She got out and immediately grabbed Erik’s hand before walking the short distance to the arcade entrance. Grabbing the door handle, Erik guided Samantha into the arcade but not before giving her ass a tap. Samantha looked back flashing a sexy smile and a wink, Erik biting his lip in response.

The pair looked around the establishment in amazement, taking in all the different games scattered throughout the place. The arcade was lit by many bright and colorful neon signs on the wall. “Babe, this is so cool!” Samantha exclaimed as they walked up to the front desk. Erik smiled at her childlike demeanor. Erik’s eyes found the pool tables immediately, he was a pro at pool. Samantha, on the other hand, was not, and Erik couldn’t wait to whoop her ass in a couple of games. “Ooh girl, you ready to get your ass beat in pool?” he asked grabbing the back of Samantha’s neck. She rolled her eyes and muttered a ‘whatever’ as she removed his hand. “What’s up, guys! How are you tonight?” the employee at the front desk asked enthusiastically.

“Good” they both said in unison.

“Alright, guys its gonna be $8.50 per person per hour, and just letting you know we close in about two and a half hours,” she said.

“That’s fine,” Erik started, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, “we’ll pay for the two hours.” he finished handing the employee his card.

“Alright, you’re all set, have fun guys!”

“Thank you!” Samantha shouted over the loud music before running off further into the arcade. Erik laughed trying to keep up with his girl. He looked around trying to find games they can play while they wait for an open pool table. “Baby lets play this one,” Erik said pointing in the direction of a two-player shooting game, typical Erik.

“Its on baby boy.” Samantha smirked giving him a smack on his backside.

……………………………………...

“Damn, why are you so good at every game? That’s not fair.” Samantha pouted looking up at Erik’s smiling face.

“I’m not good at every game, you just suck,” he whispered in her ear.

“Stop being mean, E.” she whined pushing him away.

“Okay okay I’m sorry, let’s go play a few rounds of pool while we still can.”

“You know I don’t know how to play pool.” Samantha groaned throwing her head back.

“I’ll teach you, baby girl, don’t worry.” Erik started setting up the game, placing the balls in the triangle. Samantha was busy picking a pool stick when Erik came up behind her and gripped her ass. “Boy back up,” she uttered trying not to let his wandering hands get to her.

“Oh I’m sorry I was trying to grab a pool stick,” he lied reaching around her and grabbing a stick, “all this ass was in my way, my bad.”

“Yeah okay, lying ass. Let’s hurry up and get this game over with, you know how you get when we play pool. You don’t ever shut up about how good you are, annoying as hell.” she grimaced in annoyance at Erik’s cocky smirk.

“I can’t help it ma. I’m just too good,” Erik circled around the table, “I’ll break.” He leaned over the edge of the table, pulled the pool stick back and hit the cue ball causing the colored balls to scatter around the table. He already got 2 balls in, “Alright I’ll play stripes, you play solids,” he said before moving to the other side of the table “go ahead ma.” Samantha moved closer to the table and leaned over, holding the stick in her right hand. She got into position, angling her body so hopefully, she’ll get a ball in. She pulled the pool stick back but when she went to hit the cue ball, she missed. She groaned getting into position again, but she couldn’t get it right. “Ugh, I can’t hit it,” she exclaimed looking up at her man to find him smirking at her failed attempts.

“Let me help you.” he offered walking up to her right side. He showed her the correct way to hold the stick and hit the cue ball. “Alright, you got it?” he asked moving to her opposite side.

“Yeah, I think so,” Samantha hesitated, “alright let’s see.” she finished getting ready to hit the cue ball. Just as she was about to go for it, she felt a large hand roaming around her backside. She stopped her movements, looking back at the hand then looked up at the culprits face. They locked eyes and she raised a brow, his hands still roaming and gripping her soft flesh. “Wassup?” he questioned as if he was doing nothing wrong.

“Uhmm, do you mind?” she snorted.

“Nah, go ahead ma,” he answered, hands still wandering. She scoffed, shaking her head trying to ignore the man next to her. She aimed the stick once more, took a deep breath, and hit the cue ball. To her surprise, she actually got one of the solid balls in. Samantha’s jaw dropped in surprise and she did a little happy dance. Erik smiled and shook his head, “Look at you, see all you needed was a little motivation.” he said.

“You call that motivation, you perv?” Samantha asked raising her brows.

“You know you liked that shit.” Erik pulled Samantha closer to him and assaulted her neck with sloppy wet kisses.

“Erikkk, ewww my necks all wet,” she whined trying to push his head away.

“Chill girl,” he said in between kisses, “lemme mark my territory.” he started sucking extra hard on her neck.

“Boy, I am not your territory, back up before I put hands on you.” Samantha threatened playfully. Erik looked at her with a fake hurt expression and she smirked.

“You cold, ma,” he responded, wiping the imaginary tears in his eyes.

Samantha giggled before speaking, “Okay babe cmon, let’s finish before they close. I’m feeling real confident that imma beat you for once.” she smirked moving to the side as Erik got into position.

“Yeah okay, keep dreaming lil’ one,” he muttered, going his turn.

……………………………………...

“Oh em gee, I can’t believe I actually beat you for the first time,” Samantha babbled while Erik followed behind her, both of them walking through the parking lot headed towards Erik’s car. Erik rolled his eyes in annoyance, “You only won because I got the potted the 8 ball, if it wasn’t for that you’d be crying like you always do. You got lucky.” he spoke rolling his eyes.

“Lucky? Nah I didn’t get lucky,” she got on her tippy toes and leaned in close to his ear, “you just suck.” she gave him a quick peck on his cheek and continued her path to the car. She smiled and shook her head as she heard Erik behind her mocking her words.

“You’re such a baby, E. you can dish it but you can’t take it, shaking my damn head.” they stopped in front of the car and Samantha turned around to face Erik. He had a scowl on his face, his full bottom lip poking out.

“Aww my baby, come here pooh,” Erik walked into her open arms and she grabbed the sides of his face, “you know I love you, daddy.”

“You not acting like it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she said kissing on his jaw, her hands making their way down his body.

“How?” he asked, a slight smirk on his lips,

“Take me home and I’ll show you, baby.” she flashed an innocent smile, batting her eyelashes while rubbing on his dick.

“Get your ass in the car before I take you right here,” Erik warned looking at her with flared nostrils.

“Okay daddy,” she winked walking to the passenger side of the car, swaying her thick hips a little bit just to tease him. She got in, pulling the door closed behind her, Erik threw his head back, “What am I gonna do with this girl?’ he asked himself before smiling and getting in the car.

#Erik Killmonger #erik stevens imagine #Erik Stevens #erik killmonger imagines #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger x reader #erik stevens x reader

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eboyhitoshi · 4 years

Text

Asshole // Hitoshi Shinsou

Introduction

Warnings: Launguage, Mentions of sex, sexual themes, Fuckboy!Shinsou, UA college!AU, mentions of underage drinking, all characters are 18+ hence the college AU

Summary: You end up in a sticky situation after a horrible mistake leaves you pregnant, and not with your boyfriend’s baby

A/n: Ok so I got this idea after I stumbled upon my wattpad account from a while ago when all of the stories on there were about the reader getting pregnant and then I rewatched glee which just made the need I felt to write this so strong. So here we are, a classic cliché that I’m not even ashamed about writing lmao. Except for the fact that this chapter is a MESS but pls bear with me bc its just the intro so it’s like a mashed together little thing of need to know information. The sentence I just wrote hurt my brain, anyway, on with the story.

Oh also, I am making this series completely on a whim! Like I just got the idea and wrote it down, so if y’all like it then please tell me and I’ll make sure to keep it going!

You stared down at the white stuck in your hand in disbelief. It couldn’t have been right, except for the fact that three others said the exact same thing. Pregnant. You never realized one world could be so earth shattering. How the hell were you supposed to continue hero studies with a baby in your stomach? You were just starting out your final year of college, it couldn’t end like this, not now.

What were you supposed to tell your parents? What were you supposed to say to your teachers? How were you supposed to tell Denki?

A panicked look struck your features at the thought of the adorable blonde. You’d been dating since the beginning of second year, and you couldn’t be more in love with him. You figured he’d probably take it fine, if it weren’t for the fact that it wasn’t his.

Four months ago you had a really bad pregnancy scare. You didn’t get your period for almost two months and you got really, really sick. It scared Denki and you from having sex since and you still haven’t fully gotten back to it.

In those four months of your chastity however, someone else’s opportunity struck. Denki’s best friend Shinsou had always wanted you, as you were the one girl he couldn’t have. You were his best friend’s, off limits, and he couldn’t stand it. He always got what he wanted, and he wanted you. So at a party you got super wasted, though Denki ended up in much worse shape than you. Kirishima ended up taking him home but you were dancing with Mina at the time so he didn’t bother to tell you. In your faded haze you didn’t think twice about Shinsou sauntering over to dance with you.

The next morning you woke up in his dorm with nothing but his tee shirt on. You sobbed for hours at what you’d done, especially because you had no clue it even happened. You made Shinsou swear that Denki wouldn’t know, and he agreed.

Ever since then it’s never been talked about, he didn’t act any different around you, and Denki had no clue. You still beat yourself up about it because Denki is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and if there was anything you could take back in life it’d be that night. If only you hadn’t been drinking, if only you’d stayed with Denki instead of dancing with Mina, if only you could’ve gotten Denki to just stay home with you that night instead.

Tears streamed wildly down your face as you sunk to the ground, test clutched in your hand as you sobbed. You didn’t know how long you were there for, but you knew it was a long time. Your butt growing sore from sitting on the tile floor and the area under your eyes becoming raw from your tears.

You sucked in a deep, shaky breath. You stood back up and looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked like a mess, but you told yourself you deserved it. It was your mistake, and now you were gonna pay.

***********

You woke up a little earlier than normal, the sick feeling you’d had for the last couple weeks bubbling in your stomach. You shot up and ran toward the bathroom, thankfully making it to the toilet. After you started to feel a little better after puking your guts out, you got up and brushed your teeth extra good.

Class was starting soon so you just decided to get ready for the day. You’d only woken up about fifteen minutes early so you were only slightly ahead of schedule. In the middle of adjusting your tie, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you again. You leaned forward, gripping the edge of the bathroom counter. You let your head fall forward as you shut your eyes. It felt like you could keep it down for second, but you knew you couldn’t. You rushed to the toilet and did what you needed to.

A knock sounded through the room as you were standing back up. You turned toward you room door, covering your mouth as you looked at it silently for a moment.

“Who’s there?” You called, turning back to start brushing your teeth again.

“Your sexy boyfriend” Denki replied, entering your room. He walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “You sleep in late? You’re normally ready by now” he commented, watching as you brushed your teeth. You finished up what you were doing before replying.

“Yeah” you mumbled, placing your hands on his arms that were wrapped around you lovingly. You stared down at them and couldn’t help feeling guilty, though your face held a blank expression.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked, turning you around. He placed his hand on your hips, tilting his head at you.

“Nothing, I’m just tired” you lied, a small smile on your face. He nodded and lifted you up so he was carrying you. You giggled lightly, wrapping your legs around his waist to support yourself.

“Well would you like a lift to class?” He asked cheekily. You nodded, making him smile as he leaned in to peck your lips.

“Thank you Denki” you smiled, laying your head on his shoulder.

“You’re welcome” he replied, slinging his backpack ove one of his shoulders. He placed your backpack on you before making his way over to the school.

***********

“So, (Y/n), have you told Denki yet?” Shinsou’s voice rang out as he started walking next to you down the hallway. You furrowed your eyebrows, hoping he wasn’t gonna say what you thought he was.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, shaking your head as you kept your eyes forward. He smirked, glancing at your cheeks that were starting to redden. He couldn’t tell if it was out of frustration or embarrassment, but he knew he caused it. And he liked that.

“You know, that you’ve got one in the oven” he answered casually. You stopped dead in your tracks, staring at him mouth agape. He walked a few steps forward and turned to face you.

“No I don’t” you stated, avoiding eye contact as you started walking again. He scoffed and kept pace with you at your side once again.

“You forget who takes out the trash” he retorted. “Hard to miss seeing four positive pregnancy tests” he added. You snapped toward him, grabbing his bicep tightly.

“Keep your voice down” you whisper scolded. He raised his eyebrows at you as his lips slightly parted.

“So it’s true?” He asked, disbelief eveident in his voice. You glanced around at the bustling hallways before grunting annoyedly and pulling him into an empty classroom.

“What do you want Shinsou? Do you just get off on ruining my life or something?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest while glaring at him. He walked around the front of the room silently for a moment before sitting down on a desk. He stayed silent so you took that as your cue to keep going. “First you fuck up my relationship by getting me wasted and taking advantage of me, which makes me feel guilty because I know that if Denki ever found out he’d be heartbroken, then not only did you sleep with me when I was hammered, you got me pregnant. It just makes it worse that you’re his best friend” you ranted, sitting yourself down on a desk as you let everything sink in.

“It is mine then?” He asked, eyes locked on your stomach. You shifted uncomfortably, hugging your stomach and hunching forward so it was no longer visible. “I mean I figured, since Denki’s been in a dry spell and the only time you would’ve done anything otherwise was with me”

“How would you know what Denki’s sex life is like?” You asked defensively, making him scoff.

“Please, Denki’s my best friend. You think he doesn’t tell me every time you fuck?” He asked rhetorically. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you turned a dark red color. “Don’t worry he doesn’t spare any of the gorey details either. I know just how you like it, or well, how he says you do. There’s some things he doesn’t know” he added.

“Do you know how punchable of a face you have?” You asked, standing back up and placing your hands on your hips. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his own arms.

“How long do you plan on keeping this from him?” He asked you, playing with the rings on his fingers while he waited for you to speak again.

“Shinsou I just took those stupid tests two days ago. I haven’t even been to a doctor yet, there’s still a possibility that I’m not” you commented, mostly as false hope for yourself.

“You throw up this morning?” He asked, staring up at you. You were staring down at your feet ashamedly, something you found yourself doing a lot of lately. “I’m pretty sure four tests wouldn’t all be positive if you weren’t” he pointed out, making you sigh.

“What do you want from me Shinsou?” You asked defeatedly. You could already feel pressure building up behind your eyes as they teared up. “As you could probably tell I’m already going trough some shit and I’d appreciate if you didn’t add to that” he was about to speak, but someone else’s voice rang through the room.

“What the hell’s happening here?” Denki’s voice sounded through the room. You looked up at him with tear filled eyes and his expression immediately turned concerned. “Woah, are you ok babe?” He asked, walking briskly over to you. You leaned forward, pressing your face into his chest as the reality of your situation hit you again. “Dude what’d you say to her?” He asked Shinsou angrily, holding you protectively against him. Shinsou glanced at you, who was giving him a pleading look and he sighed.

“I didn’t say anything” he replied, before slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking out of the room.

Denki stood in the middle of the classroom with you sobbing into his chest, slightly confused. Nonetheless, he held you close and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you calmed down.

“What happened babe?” He asked, sitting you down on the desk you were on previously. You wiped your face, sniffling as you tried to think of something to tell him.

“One of my grandma’s friends died. I was close with her and I just needed to talk to someone. Shinsou was the first one I saw” you lied. He frowned and pulled you back to his chest.

“I’m so sorry (Y/n)” he whispered, holding you tightly against him. “I’m glad you can go to my best friend with stuff like that though, makes me glad that you two are close” he commented, running his fingers through your hair.

“Yeah” you whispered, shutting your eyes tightly. “Close”

#bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #mha shinsou #bnha hitoshi shinsou #bnha shinsou hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x reader #bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #mha #bnha #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x you

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set-phasers-to-whump · 4 years

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is something burning?

Prompt: fire, heat exhaustion

Whumpee: Eddie Diaz

Fandom: 911

hey whats up!! hope u like this fic!

It’s been a long day, and they’re only ten hours into their shift. Call after call, fire after fire. As soon as they’re back to the station, the alarm is ringing again. They’re all handling it in various ways, from Chim’s griping to Buck’s staring wistfully out the window of the truck as they rush to yet another accident. Eddie, though, feels he’s handling it far worse than the others.

Not because he’s being especially irritable about it, or snapping at anyone, or having any kind of emotional reaction to the seemingly neverending calls. He just feels bad. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he felt feverish, but that wasn’t quite right. He’s sweaty, yes, weirdly thirsty, and tired, but he doesn’t feel sick. Just...bad.

He wonders, briefly, as they’re climbing into the truck to go to their second structure fire of the day, if it’s because of the heat. But he looks around at everyone else, and they all seem fine. Maybe a little tired and grumpy, but none of them look like how he feels. There’s no point in bringing it up, then, he figures. He’s not sick and they’re not feeling it. He can just ignore this, anyway. It’s not that bad, and he’s still got a lot of work ahead of him. He pushes the bad feeling to the side.

They arrive at the fire a minute later, and it’s a big one. Normally, they’d all be a little more excited about such a fire, but the stress of the day has worn on them, so that they all just do their jobs, with little conversation passing between them, something which suits Eddie just fine. He’s too tired to focus on anything but doing what he needs to do.

The fire is in a small, one-story home, something which Eddie is deeply grateful for. No ladders to climb this time. The family that lives there is gathered safely outside, but looking considerably distressed.

“You have to go in there and get Benny!” a little boy says to Eddie, running up to him as he’s pulling equipment off the truck.

“Who’s Benny?” Eddie asks, alarmed. There shouldn’t have been anyone still inside.

“He’s our dog, he was hiding under the couch and we couldn’t get him out!” the boy responds tearfully. “Dad was going to go back to get him, but it was too hot. You have to save him!”

“I will,” Eddie promises, and hurries to relay this information to Bobby, who tells him to get the dog as quickly as he can so they can start with the hoses.

As Eddie enters the burning house, he feels briefly faint, stumbling over his feet for a second. As soon as the smoke engulfs him, though, the feeling fades, and everything unimportant goes away.

He locates the dog quickly enough. He’s shivering and a little dusty, but seems otherwise unharmed. Eddie picks him up and carries him outside, setting him onto the grass and watching with a smile as he goes running up to the little boy.

He starts walking back to his team to help them extinguish the fire, but he doesn’t make it more than three steps before that faint feeling comes back, and his head starts to spin. A wave of nausea hits him all of a sudden, and he scrabbles to get his mask off. The second it’s away from his face, he turns to the side, thinking he’s going to be sick, but instead the faintness increases tenfold, the world spins rapidly around him, and he collapses to his knees on the grass, not unconscious but not fully present, shivering and sweating at the same time.

And then, there’s a cold hand on the back of his neck, and he flinches away from it, then leans back into it, not sure if he’s hot or cold. He hears voices talking above him, hears water being pumped from the hoses, but all of it blurs together so that he can’t pick out anything distinct. His head is spinning. He thinks he’d be lying on the ground if it weren’t for the hand on his neck and the other one on his chest, holding him up.

Suddenly, the hand on his neck is moving, and then he feels someone undoing the zipper of his turnout coat and pulling it off of him. The first gust of hot air that hits his chest feels like the best thing in the world, and then the hand is back on the back of his neck, this time pressing something much cooler and much more wet into his skin. It drips down his back and makes him shudder, but whoever is holding it there doesn’t move it.

He’s not sure of how long he stays like that, half out of it, with someone - multiple someones? - keeping him from collapsing, cooling him down. Eventually, though, his hearing clears up, and then Buck is talking to him, and Eddie thinks that he would really like to respond, but he is far too tired to even open his mouth.

Buck asks if he feels up to moving, and he shakes his head, wincing when it brings a brief wave of dizziness with it.

“Can you drink some water, at least?” Buck asks, and Eddie nods, feeling suddenly as though he’s never been this thirsty in his life.

Then there is a cool bottle being pressed into his hands, and he drinks half of it at record speed, only stopping when he nearly chokes. Someone takes the bottle from him, then, and presses another cool cloth to his forehead. He leans unconsciously into the touch, no longer shivering at the cold.

Buck is speaking to him again, about nothing in particular, and he listens, slowly but surely feeling some of his strength come back, feeling some of the overwhelming heat leave his body. Finally, after what might be minutes but might just as easily be hours, he feels well enough to stand on shaky legs, nearly falling right back to his knees until Buck’s arm wraps around his shoulders. He leans heavily on the other man as they start walking - where to, he can’t tell.

They stop after what feels like a mile, and then Buck is gently pushing him down onto something, and he recognizes, through his now mostly-cleared-up but still unfocused vision, that he’s in the back of the ambulance. He feels Buck sit down next to him, far enough away that none of his body heat is affecting Eddie, and then he feels someone else - Hen, he knows, instinctively - touch his forehead, and his cheeks, and his neck, and so on. She asks him how he’s feeling as she hands him another bottle of water, warning him to take it slow this time.

He tells her he feels okay in between sips, which isn’t completely true considering he still feels like shit, but he certainly feels better than he had before, at any rate.

“What happened?” he thinks to ask.

“You almost passed out from heat exhaustion is what happened,” Buck says from next to him, sounding angry.

“Oh,” Eddie says, eloquently.

Hen sighs. “Why didn’t you tell us, Eddie?” she asks. “You must’ve felt it coming on.”

Eddie shrugs halfheartedly. “Didn’t seem like a big deal. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Buck scoffs. “Really, Eddie? You didn’t think heat exhaustion was a big deal? People die from that.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters. “I really didn’t think anything was wrong. Not seriously, anyway. Didn’t feel sick. Just kinda bad.”

Now it’s Buck’s turn to sigh, his voice softening from that angry-yet-concerned tone. “Eds, you gotta tell us stuff like that. Even if you don’t think it’s important.”

“I’ll try,” Eddie says, knowing that he probably won’t. He’s just not that kind of person. He never has been. He keeps his problems to himself.

And then those problems overwhelm you, says a voice in the back of his head that he hates because he knows it’s right.

He is spared the pain of having to think on that particular subject anymore by Buck’s hand coming to rest on his back, a presence that feels blissfully neither warm nor cold.

“We’re a team, Eddie,” he says, like a promise. “We’re always here for you. You just have to let us be.”

Thanks so much for reading this!!!!!! I hope u enjoyed and sorry for any errors, i didnt edit alot bc i gotta go watch the amazing race bc its finally back on!!! idk if any of u like it but i’ve been watching it w my family for as long as i can remember lol

#whumptober2020 #no.14 #fire #heat exhaustion #911 #fic #eddie diaz #sweaty #my writing #i say things

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clayfaced · 4 years

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tagged by @brucewyane ty chels!!!!!

nickname: sam + one of my friends calls me samuel. one of my sorta class friends referred to me as sam in class yesterday and i literally do not know why but,,,, the serotonin

zodiac: aries

height: 5′4

last thing i googled: “screenwriting site” death to my film prof i hate writing

song stuck in my head: bad habit by your smith

number of followers: 150ish

amount of sleep: last night like 9-10 hours but the night before like 2.5 lol dee dont read this

lucky number: 72

dream job: some film production job that i can support myself with or unrealistically sometimes in my head a photojournalist so long as i dont have to write words idk what photojournalists do i took a tour of a newspaper building one (1) time and now im like this

wearing: leggings and a tank top

favorite song: rn its blackbird by shake shake go.

favorite instrument: piano!

aesthetic: peanut butter and banana sandwiches, the evening of a warm day when its still almost warm but in a comfortable way bc the suns not out and its dark, basil karlos /clayfaces redemption ark 😌, me apologizing in advance for being annoying & not knowing how to shut up ever in my life and dee saying its fine instead of lying and saying something nice like im not annoying

favorite author: since quarantine ive been reading almost exclusively comics so i dont rlly know :/ a while ago i read a lot of patrick ness and liked his stuff. i mostly just read whatever is on my moms kindle account so it’s not a lot by any specific author

favorite animal noises: most noises my cats make but not the ones where they’re yelling at me and you can tell they’re being mean on purpose

random: i want to change my icon but i haven't found anything i want to change it to. unstoppable force meets immovable object. i have a joke in one of my character tags but i barely post content w them so no one gets to see it. its only very mildly funny but i have low standards so i have fun w it.

tagging: @benoitblanc @shadowsweavers @hopeisthewholepoint @daredeviil @magnusedom @dvkethomas @callmeredhood @valleydean @mattmmurdock @gogys + anyone who wants to do it!!

#this is so long im so sorry everyone #me taking every tiny chance to overshare about myself on the internet? its probably as likely as you think #anyways read detective comics 934+#i started w 941 because of **** ***** and then went back and read the rest and still ***** but #not that im saying start with 941 because usually yk.. context is a good thing but start with 491 its fun and sexy #it is the third part of a crossover tho so :/ like read the other ones first probably #i have nothing helpful to say i only know how to be annoying and unhelpful but #tag games

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hobiwonder · 5 years

Text

daddies’ little princess~

Pairing: grizzly bear Namjoon, polar bear Yoongi, panda Hoseok, puppy taehyung x reader

Genre: flufffffff. hybrid au. daddy!bts. little!reader. human reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: slight swearing. implication of sex. nothing else.

Summary: yoongi yelled at you and now you’re hiding in the closet.

a/n: i combined two ideas from you guys so thank you for that. sorry it took longer bc... it ended up being longer lmao. also writing daddy and littles is new to me and just whole fluff is new to me so i’ll appreciate feedback. :) enjoy my little bubs.

(imagine yoongi there lmao i couldn’t find a gif for all of them)

“y/n?” a light knock outside the closet door that you promptly ignore.

“taehyung?” the puppy hybrid looks over to your pouting face before snuggling in closer to you in the decent sized closet, resting his chin on your shoulder as you glare at the closet door and the line of light that you can see from the slit where the two doors meet to close.

“d-do you think we should l-let them in?”

“no!” your response is instant and biting as the puppy jumps in surprise at your tone before nuzzling even closer to you. But it seems that your angry response had been a tad bit too loud because you can hear another set of footsteps approaching near the closet while the grizzly bear – Namjoon – sighs at your bratty tone. Refusing to get out of the closet.

“y/n? honey? It’s joonie. Baby can you please open the closet door for us?”

Taehyung is pulling back his face that had been buried in your neck, arms holding you tightly around the waist as he cuddled your rigid body to try and calm you down after your spat with Yoongi – the grumpy polar bear hybrid about wanting to get some writing done as a lyricist but you had wanted to colour in the new book he’d gotten you, with taehyung. Instead, after your endless jumps and hops around him trying to coax him to just spend time with you and the puppy – he’d snapped and told you to stop being a brat and listen to him for once.

And being the more sensitive out of all of your boyfriends, your eyes had started to produce tears on their own accord and before you could humiliate yourself even further, you’d taken taehyung’s hand and ran out of his room to the master bedroom closet, locking yourself in with taehyung. The puppy had just held you and started cuddling you as soon as you’d plopped on the floor with a scowl on your face, an angry pout on your lips to keep the tears at bay because of Yoongi snapping at you.

That had been 20 minutes ago until Yoongi had finally found out where you’d been hiding – mostly because of how loudly you’d been telling taehyung that you hated Yoongi! You hated him you hated him you hated him! He loved work more than you! All the while the obedient and docile puppy had just rubbed soothing circles on your back with one hand while the other wiped away the one or two lone angry tears that fell from your eyes. Taehyung was a big cuddler and took the opportunity whenever he saw one. But most of all, he was the other pea to your pod. He was your favourite because he played with you, he loved cuddles as much – some would argue more, and that person would probably be himself – and was an all around soulmate. At least one of them. Because who knew you’d get three more. Two of which were standing outside the closet, pleading with you to get out.

“no! no one likes me so im not coming out!” you were nearly shouting and it only made the puppy hold you tighter, hoping to calm you down.

“that’s not true baby. Yoongi was tired. He’s sorry for upsetting you.” You scoff at Namjoon’s attempt to apologise on behalf of his friend. Of course he would.

“you’re a liar. He hates me!” the tremble in your voice towards the end was evident. Saying the words out loud – that he hated you – really made it real and it dawned on you how foreign the word hate sounded when it came to him. He was sometimes the most affectionate towards everyone and it was hard to say that he hated you.

“y/n? princess? I don’t hate you my love. I was just very tired and I snapped. I’m so very sorry,” the dull ‘thud’ of a head being pressed against the door tells you that he’s leaning against it now. And through the small slit of light, you can just about make out that Namjoon is standing with one hand on his hips while the other is out of your sight.

You were mad, obviously, but moreover; you’d gotten your period today. And of course, the pms was at its worst on the first day as even a slightly raised voice made you want to sob. Thus, you were also sad. The stupid little voices telling you that your daddies didn’t love you.

“y/n?” you’re snapped out of your thoughts when you look over to the side at taehyung’s inquisitive, slightly nervous face – he was sometimes scared by your outbursts since he was still a puppy. “he means it.” He’s nodding at you, as if to say that ‘look, I believe him too.’

It doesn’t make you less angry, but it does make you less sad. Knowing that it was probably your hormones making you think bad thoughts. And suddenly, you were feeling lethargic, falling back in to taehyung’s soft body as he holds you even closer, placing small kisses on your cheeks. “do you want me to open the door now?”

Bringing your hands up to your face as you make little fists, rubbing at your damp eyes to make the annoying tears go away! – you nod slowly. Your tummy was hurting and the anger was wearing off – slowly but surely. And with one kick, taehyung had opened one side of the closet door as Yoongi and Namjoon rush forwards.

“Oh goodness. My baby.” Namjoon is cooing at you when you make a beeline for him instead of Yoongi when he tries to hold you first. But of course, you were still grumpy and went straight for the fluffy grizzly bear hybrid, wrapping your arms and legs around him as he picks you up – slightly swaying on the spot while rubbing your back. Your face is buried in his neck and you know he’s walking you to the living room. The puppy had instead latched on to Yoongi, arms around his waist as he walked with him, following Namjoon out to the main area.

“Bro this is insane. Half time and not one goal-” the panda hybrid’s voice is loud and he’s sitting on the massive couch facing the tv – until he looks behind him, “woah woah woah. What’s happening here.”

“Just a small fight. Nothing much,” Namjoon is nonchalantly shaking his head at Hoseok who’s now stood up from his seat to walk over to Namjoon who had placed you on the kitchen counter. But of course – you’re not in the mood to let this go just yet.

“it wasn’t a small fight!” your lips are trembling when you’ve finally pulled your face from namjoon’s neck which was now slightly damp from your silent tears, “Yoongi daddy hates me.”

All of the men in the room had listened to you in silence until the sob that had broken out from you towards the end while you’d pointed at Yoongi. Simultaneous voices of ‘oh baby’ ‘that’s not true darling’ had rung about around you as tae squeezed his way between you and Namjoon, hugging your stomach to comfort your tiny sobs. All the while, Yoongi stays behind, watching the other hybrids comfort your obviously sour mood.

“he doesn’t hate you y/n. I can guarantee that okay my love?” Hoseok has both his hands around your face that’s swollen with the amount of crying you’d been doing, wiping away each tear that falls before kissing your forehead. And guess what? It makes you cry harder.

“oh god, did I do something?” Hoseok is sounding worried as he pulls back, glaring slightly at the puppy who had – once again – wedged his way in between you and Hoseok and was now hugging you tightly and you returned the embrace. But ever the most caring leader, Namjoon comes to the rescue again from behind the kitchen counter where he’d put a pot on the stove.

“it’s fine. She’s just upset. Let her cry it out,” he nods at Hoseok who now looks less worried than before. In all this ruckus, everyone had but forgotten Yoongi’s slowly retrieving figure- before Namjoon stops him.

“hyung, don’t take it to heart okay? She’s just upset. She knows you love her,” Namjoon is placing a hand on yoongi’s, squeezing tight as he brings him closer – the worry and guilt written all over yoongi’s face.

“yeah but does she?” Namjoon pulls Yoongi in an all out hug now, not missing the scoff from the elder at the affection.

“of course she does you silly bear. Taehyung just told me she got her period today as well. And you know how she gets.” And it’s all finally making sense as yoongi’s mouth turns in to an ‘o’ as everything clicks. Of course he shouldn’t have snapped at you and he has apologised profusely for it. But he’d never gotten this type of reaction before from you. But knowing that you were just not feeling well had him feeling slighter better and worse at the same time. For upsetting you when you were probably having period cramps like you usually did and needed more pampering and caring than usual.

“ah… okay. Should I get the usual then?” Namjoon just smiles at Yoongi knowingly and pats him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“yeah. But don’t count on her to jump on you straight away. You know how stubborn our princess is.” Namjoon’s chuckle maybe teasing but it was definitely true. But still. He loved his little princess.

“that she is.” And then Yoongi is off to the master bedroom to get your favourite stuffie, your snow white binky and your favourite blankie to get ready to make it up to you.

Your tears have now turned in to mellow sniffles while the three men try and cheer you up. Taehyung had still been firmly attached to you until Hoseok had told the puppy to go and set up totoro on the big screen for you while Namjoon finished up with your favourite hot chocolate.

“does it hurt a lot in your tummy?” Hoseok is softly rubbing your stomach while you nod your head animatedly, the pout permanently stuck on your face.

“aw my sweet sweet girl. Let’s get you some Panadol okay?” when hosoek turns away to grab the medicine from the drawer next to the TV, you’re hiccupping again before whimpering – not wanting him to walk away while your arms had stuck out in grabby hands until he’d rushed back to where you sat on the counter top, cuddling you close to his chest. The panda’s fresh, earthy scent always put you at ease and you refused to let him go. So he had to pick you up again, much like how Namjoon had to earlier when he’d picked you off the closet floor, and takes you to the living room before setting you down on the couch.

Hoseok swears he’s turned his back only for a second to grab some of the painkillers and yet – there the puppy was, cuddling you to death. He rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile that appears on his face when taehyung is nuzzling your tummy making the cutest – and your first laugh since The Incident – laugh escape your pretty lips.

“Alrighty! A hot cup of yummy cocoa coming right up ma’am.” You’re smiling softly up at Namjoon as he sets it down in front of you and hands you a glass of water first so you can take the meds.

When Yoongi has returned with all the essentials for a y/n care package, he finds Namjoon placing a soft kiss on your lips before he hands you the hot chocolate mug before taking the puppy and having a seat on one side of the massive couch. Yoongi remembers the day all five of you had gone shopping to find the biggest and comfiest couch you could – just to do exactly what you were all about to do today which was watch your favourite movie. Though he’s sighing – remembering that you being this mad at him never being a part of the plan.

He must have been loud because your head had turned towards where he stood and instantly – your eyes were on the blankie that he was holding. But you were in no mood to ask him for it. Not yet at least. So once again, you’re holding on to Hoseok tight when sits down – pulling you on his lap to cuddle you close to his chest.

“Hyung, come on. The movie is starting.” Namjoon is encouragingly smiling at him and Yoongi can’t help his pride as he walks forward to the couch, taking a seat besides Hoseok. Wanting to see if you’d move away from his lap – and also because that was the only seat left.

But instead of you moving away, you’re completely ignoring him, cuddling in to Hoseok as the movie starts. Not even twenty minutes later in the movie, you’re cuddling further into Hoseok, placing kisses on his neck while he chuckles and playfully tells you to pay attention to the movie in a whisper. Yoongi can’t quite make it out but one thing is for sure. Your mood had changed and you were no longer sad. At least it didn’t look like it. Taehyung has firmly taking a place on Namjoon’s lap, cuddling the grizzly bear while laughing the cutest laughs at each funny part.

“what? You want your blankie? Then go and take it from daddy Yoongi.” Hoseok is slightly louder this time as he tilts his head to the side to tell you to go to Yoongi but you’re being stubborn – like always. Hiding your face in hoseok’s chest again before he pries it away once more after you’d mumbled something that Yoongi couldn’t quite make out.

“no baby. I’m not going to ask him for you. You need to make up with him okay?” you’re pouting and slightly glaring at Hoseok for making you do this, “y/n. don’t make daddy upset.” This time however though, he’s referring to himself. Sighing – exaggeratedly of course – you nod and agree to go to Yoongi. But not before Hoseok has placed a deep open mouth kiss on your lips – tugging a tiny moan out of your mouth before he turns you around to face Yoongi.

Hoping that you’d finally relent, Yoongi is opening his arms towards you, waiting patiently for you to stop glaring at him. And just a few seconds later, your face is softening and you’re almost lunging at Yoongi that he’s pushed back slightly on the couch.

“Oh my sweet darling. I’m so so sorry. Daddy is so sorry.” You’ve buried your face in his chest while he’s whispering the words to you – sweet kisses being placed in your hair. And while you’re both lost in your moment – the rest of the hybrids watch, finally feeling at ease that their princess is no longer upset.

“you were a meany to me daddy.” Yoongi is wrapping you in the blankie while you ramble and vent away at how much he upset you. And when a lone tear escapes your eyes again; his hear clenches.

“I didn’t mean it bug. You’re my love, my biggest priority and daddy will never upset you like that again okay?”

The hesitation is only there for a second before you’re tilting your head back a little to look at him in his beautiful face, “daddy promise?” your voice is so small, the pout still endearingly on your cherub face that Yoongi can’t help but hold the back of your head with one hand – bring yours closer to his until your foreheads rested together before replying.

“daddy promise.” And just like that, the smile that lights up his entire fucking world is back on your face and he feels the weight being lifted off his chest.

“d-daddy…. Can I..” you trail off while Yoongi pays utter attention to what you want to say.

“yes princess? What does baby want?” shyly, your gaze slips to his lips before you look at him in the eyes again.

“i-I wanna…wanna kiss.” He’s trying to hide a smile as he nods, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips, holding your face gently in his hands but it seems that you have other plans.

“m-more.” You’re dazedly murmuring as he’s tried to pull away before pulling him back in before kissing Yoongi deeply. And he figures, after the day you’d had and how he’d treated you – he could kiss you for a while. So he slips his hands further in your hair, pulling your face even closer as he slips his tongue in your mouth while you let out the sweetest little whimper. And that’s how you spend the next 3 minutes or so. Deeply kissing each other, tongues tangling, little moans escaping your pretty lips – until you start to get handsy and Namjoon reminds Yoongi that you’re on your period.

“princess, daddy can’t right now you know that.” His light scolding has you pulling back with a grumble but your mind is so pleasantly hazy that you don’t care much. Snuggling in to Yoongi while you stretch your legs over Hoseok who instantly starts massaging your feet.

“give her her binky and her stuffie hyung.” Namjoon gestures behind Yoongi where he’d set the stuff on the coffee table.

He slips the binky in your mouth as you instantly latch on, hugging your stuffy tight before settling in to watch the rest of the movie. And that’s how you spend the rest of the night. All of you snuggled on one couch, cuddling each other – especially you – until you’re peacefully asleep between the 3 men – taehyung was now occupying hoseok’s lap while Yoongi shifted you to Namjoon sometime towards the end of the movie when his legs started to fall asleep.

“love you daddy” your sleepy murmur doesn’t go unnoticed when you’re being carried to bed.

“we love you too our little bunny.”

#bts fluff #namjoon fluff #yoongi fluff #hoseok fluff #taehyung fluff #bts x reader #i can't be bothered to tag all #euirbnjuenvjks #drabble

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