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nighttimealone · 6 months ago

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Cw: Nsfw (Dilf!Simon, your next door neighbor, reader’s around early 20s, Simon’s around late 30s~early 40s) pt.2

Just retired and move into a new flat, Simon doesn’t expect someone to knock on his door when he’s unpacking his belongings. With slight annoyance, he opens the door and try to dismiss whoever is out there.

His annoyance vanishes quickly when he lays eyes on you, young, gorgeous, gazing up at him with a baggy shirts barely cover the sweat-shorts. The simple apron on the outside looks incredible on you, the fabric of it rises and taut around your chest. Greeting him with a grin and hand him a plate of biscuits. A welcome gift for the new neighbor, you explain to him before leaving with a wave, hips swaying tantalizingly as you saunter back to your flat and close the door behind you.

He becomes closer to you each day, helping you without a word when one day he hears noises from the staircase outside, swings open the door of his flat and discovers you struggling with the heavy groceries bags. When you sheepishly knock on his door again, holding a screwdriver and fidgeting it, telling him you have some issues with assembling the new bookshelf you bought, he already starts his steps and walks into your flat, finish the work in minutes while you circling around cutely and trying to help like a desperate puppy.

To express your thankfulness to him, you invite him to have dinner with you, become a habit of yours when he shoots you a glance with a ‘Not bad.” but devours your home cooked meal like a man starved for days.

Sweet, beautiful girl, a year before graduating from college, expressing your insecurity about your future when he hinted that you can share your worries with him—a person who has much more experience than you— a while ago, he provides some insight and rational advice, swallowing back the words he’s been thought about for months now: Slide the silver ring on your ring finger with his name name engraved on it, makes you his missus and away from all shites the society is boiling everyday. A man alone for years and has low material desires, he has the money to take care of and spoil you without any hesitation.

He’s been fisting his cock whenever he hears your moans coming from the other aide of the wall. Hell, you don’t know how shitty and thin the walls are, the soundproof ability of them is imperceptible when it comes to louder sounds. Simon listens closely to the sounds, closing his eyes, head leans back on the armchair, trying to imagine how you must be right now. Hands in sync of the squelchy sounds of you pumping your fingers in and out of that soaked pussy. His cock’s so huge, even his own palms are just big enough wrapped around the girth, and an obscene growl left his lips as your whimpers and moans turn higher and sultrier, definitely look like a goddess when you’re weeping tears, stuffing your cunny full and craving for the release. But when you finally tumble over the edge, he snaps his eyes open and groans the second his name comes out of your mouth with such honeyed tone, crying his name in need and suppressed desire.

Simon jumps up from the armchair, heavy cock forming an obvious tent when he shoves open his door and knocks on yours impatiently. “Wait-Wait me a second…!” your voice hits his ears with trembles that can’t be left unnoticed.

“ 'S what you want, love? getting bent over by a man older than you and fucked stupid? Is that so, princess?” He squeezes himself through the crack of your door, kicking it close and pinning your upper body on the shoe cabinet beside the door, your legs dangling in the air as he drives the fat tip into your entrance ferociously, tight cunt still spasming from your orgasm and makes him grunts out a curse, “Fucking screaming my name when you touch yourself, hmm? you know you can come to me anytime you need something, like I told you before.”

He gets you cry out in pleasure without any concern of receiving complaints from other neighbors, wrapping your legs back and standing between your wide-spread thighs, leaning his weight on your back while his hips rocks unrelentingly. “No more, no more…Simon!” You clenching down on his shaft so nice and hot, milking him loads after loads, the angry tip of his cock abusing every spots inside you, and your legs are shaking uncontrollably when he finally comes one last time, satiated both your needs for now, and you the last thing you feel before succumbing to slumber is a gentle kiss pressing on your twitching, overstimulated clit as his seeds flood out of your swollen pussy.

The relationship between you and him deepens since that night,and he doesn’t stop you or protest when you wear the low-cut top and cute skirt, semi-transparent thigh high stockings keeps attracting his attention to stare at the bare skin of your thighs between them and the skirt, and wave goodbye at him with an apologetic expression before heading off to a party with your college friends. He knows the importance of these social activities between youngsters, so he didn’t get mad or upset, just kiss your temple, reminded you to stay safe and call him whenever you need, then he’d be there in no time.

You sure will turn heads wherever you go tonight, and though there might be some troublesome wankers trying their luck on you, but he knows you won’t even spare them anything beside a polite nod of rejection. You’re all his, you won’t feel the same bliss and love from those young blokes of your age. No one can make you feel as good as he does, they can’t make you squirt all over the floor when he eats you out at the countertop, no one knows how to lower and disperse all your concerns and thoughts like him, with his tongue lapping your perked buds and that long cock massaging your cervix, coaxing countless orgasms out of you before you fall asleep in his embrace contently.

So when you ring him just about 2 hours later, asking if he can come pick you up at the club, he immediately hops in to his truck, pulls up at the location you texted him. He doubts how your breasts haven’t spilled out your low cut tops, but he’s definitely enjoying the view, your cheeks burning from the alcohol, pawing at his shirt and whining about how you missed him, how boring the party was and you just wanted to go home and bounce on his dick through your tipsy state.

Good that Simon parked his truck at a secluded spot, so you don’t need to wait any longer, let him bend you over the hood and kneel down behind you, tongue shoving deep inside, occasionally pulls out and prodding at your pussy to calm you down from keep pleading him to just fuck you already and rubbing his bulge when he just wants to drive you home first. “Will give you the cock you’ve been thinking all night when we’re home, sweetheart.” He speaks against your slick pussy lips before diving back to lick every drop of your sugary juices again.

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon riley smut #cod x reader #cod x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #female reader #nighttimealone

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atulyahearing · 2 years ago

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Atulya Hearing's behind-the-ear (BTE) hearing aids present a versatile and efficacious answer for all levels of hearing loss. With a sound tube and an external receiver (RIC) positioned in the ear canal, our BTE hearing aids cater to individuals with mild to profound hearing loss. Count on us for the most contemporary customizable hearing technology available.

#Behind The Ear Hearing Aids #hearingtest #hearingaids

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morganbritton132 · 4 months ago

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Look, should you beat up the least shadiest drug dealer in Hawkins? No. Do people do it anyways? Unfortunately.

This is what Hopper happens upon driving home from the station. This is also how Eddie finds himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Chief of Police’s truck with a probable broken nose and three undoubtedly bent joints in his pocket, saying, “Well, you know, can’t really afford the hospital so.”

Then Eddie finds himself in the passenger seat of the Chief of Police’s truck driving pass the hospital thinking, wow. Jumped by jocks and murdered by the police all in one day.

He mourns all the times he could have been more annoying, and follows Hopper out of the truck to a little cabin sat back from the road. Hopper tells him to watch for the bear trap and Eddie thinks, what the fuck. He’s about to voice that when he sees it.

Sees him. Sees, “Harrington?”

Steve is tucked into the corner of the couch, messy haired and clearly wearing Hopper’s clothes. He looks beat half to hell with his face bruised and the row a stitches disappearing into his hairline.

Actually, “What happened to you? You look like dog shit.”

“Dog shit,” repeats from behind him and Eddie turns to see a girl with curly hair standing in the doorway of a bedroom.

“Hopper doesn’t like when you teacher her things like that,” Steve says, moves his feet off the cushions so she can sit on the couch with him. “Also, I was kidnapped.”

“You weren’t kidnapped,” Hopper grumbles, having disappeared into the kitchen and returning with a first aid kit. “I don’t like you enough to kidnap you.”

“So, i can leave?”

“You got a parent at home to make sure your brain doesn’t melt out your ears?”

Steve huffs and Eddie is being lead to sit down on the coffee table. Hopper hands him a dishrag and then before Eddie can properly take it, grabs his nose and yanks it back in place. “Ow! Fuck!”

“F-“

“Oh, don’t say that one,” Steve says, shaking his head at El. “Wait until you hear it from Henderson.”

#Eddie: Be for real with me here Harrington. Have you been Stockholmed?#Steve: I’ve never been to German man #*germany #This is why you never get a full fic out of me. I got to this point and ran out of steam #eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #eleven hopper #omori stranger

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kiss4tell · 21 days ago

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Hi!

Silly request, wondering if you could write about Simon thinking reader hates him because they're always always ignoring them. Maybe reader works in medical or something, but it bothers Simon to no end ,so finally he starts stalking them. Breaking into their room, rooting through the drawers thinking they're a spy because of all the small batteries. Only to discover that they're not ignoring him or a spy, reader is hard of hearing or deaf and because Simon always wears a mask and reader cant see his lips to talk to him.

So dark and brooding Simon corners them in sick bay and removes his mask to talk to reader. Something sickly sweet and overly ridiculous like Simon surprising reader by signing them something the next time they're all getting food.

Having a hard time with your own hearing bullshit and could use a little Simon.

Ps. Love your writing! Keep writing what makes you happy!

summary: simon thinks you’re avoiding him—never responding to him, never acknowledging him—until he finally corners you in the sick bay and realizes you’re not ignoring him at all; you’re just hard of hearing. cw: mild stalking behavior, hard of hearing user. wc: 598 note: lovely ask, it's anything but silly! it gave me something to do on a friday night that isn't bedrotting and playing the sims. hope you enjoy, anon <3!

It starts as a slow burn of irritation.

Simon isn’t someone who demands attention, but he notices when people go out of their way to avoid him. And you? You’re a damn expert at it.

At first, he thought he was imagining things. But it keeps happening. Over and over again.

He’ll say something—short, to the point—and you don’t react. You don’t even glance his way. You brush past him in the hall like he isn’t there, turn the other way when he enters the room, and never—not once—acknowledge his presence unless absolutely necessary.

Soap gets a grin from you when he cracks a joke. Gaz gets a playful nudge when he teases you about something. Even Price gets an exasperated sigh when he reminds you to check in for your own medical evaluations.

But Simon? Nothing.

The more it happens, the more it grates on him.

What’s your problem?

Did he do something to piss you off? Did you think you were better than him? Were you hiding something?

The last thought festers, turning suspicion into paranoia. He watches you closer, notes the way you interact with the others, how you always position yourself just right—where you can see people’s faces clearly.

And then, one night, when you’re out of your room, he does something reckless.

He picks the lock and lets himself in.

What he finds isn’t anything unusual—neatly folded uniforms, a book on your nightstand, a half-empty cup of tea gone cold. But then he notices something else.

Batteries. Small ones.

And for some reason, that’s what makes his gut twist.

So, he corners you the next day, irritation brimming, needing to figure you out once and for all.

It happens in the sick bay. Everyone else is gone, leaving just the two of you, the antiseptic scent of the room thick in the air. You’re standing by a supply cabinet when he steps in, boots heavy on the floor.

“Look at me.”

You don’t. Not at first.

He gets closer. “Look at me.”

You turn then, your brows furrowing as you meet his gaze, eyes flicking down to his mask—like you’re searching for something.

And suddenly, all his frustration, all his suspicions, crack and crumble into nothing.

Because when he gets close enough to see—really see—he notices them.

The small, barely noticeable hearing aids tucked behind your ears.

Shit.

Everything clicks.

You weren’t ignoring him. You just… couldn’t hear him. At least, not unless he was close. Not unless he was louder.

His stomach twists, shame curling in his chest, but before he can say anything, you exhale sharply, shaking your head.

“You thought I hated you, didn’t you?” There’s something amused in your tone, but not unkind.

He doesn’t answer, jaw tight.

You huff a laugh, tilting your head slightly. “You mumble. And you always wear the mask. I can’t read your lips when you do that.”

His fingers twitch at his sides. Of course.

Before he can think better of it, he lifts a hand, tugs the mask up just enough to expose his lips. “That better?” His voice is quieter this time, careful.

Your eyes widen, lips parting slightly, and for a moment, there’s just silence between you.

Then, you nod, something softer in your expression. “Much better.”

It isn’t an apology—not outright. But later, when you sit down at the mess hall, Simon surprises you.

He taps your shoulder, waits until you turn to face him, then lifts his hands.

And signs: Hello.

Your face brightens, something warm blooming in your expression, and it hits him deep in the chest.

#ೀ kk’s writing #ೀ kk’s asks #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost cod #simon riley cod

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shushmal · 11 months ago

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There's an incredibly pretty girl at the front desk in Family Video, and Steve—Eddie's boyfriend of eight months—is leaning over the counter with a sly smile and half-lidded eyes.

Eddie pauses in the doorway, struck dumb for a moment as he takes in the scene, and then gleefully ducks down behind the nearest shelf.

"So tell me," Steve says, all low and intimate. "What kind of movie were you looking for?"

"Um," the girl says. She doesn't sound very enthusiastic—barely indulgent at best. Eddie wishes he could see, but any sight of him will ruin Steve's chances right now. He's got a pretty good mental picture though. "I really like those old black and white movies, the really glamorous ones, you know?"

"Oh, totally," Steve sighs, like he's swooning. "Like Cary Grant, Clarke Gabel?" Eddie can practically hear his smirk. "Katharine Hepburn? Ginger Rogers?"

"Oh, I love Ginger Rogers!"

"Really?" Steve says matching her excitement. "Well, you're just in luck! Robin here knows all about those old black and white movies, don't you Robin?"

Eddie presses a hand to his mouth to hide his snickering. Robin had looked like a hooked fish when he'd walked in, she's gotta be gaping stupidly right now. "Uuuh," he hears her mumbling, and tries not to snort too loud. "Y-Yeah, uh, golden age of Hollywood stuff, absolutely. I could? Show you where they are?"

"Oh my gosh, that would be amazing!" the girl says, her interest in the conversation now warmed by several degrees. Eddie is still a little in awe of how well his boyfriend can sniff out gay girls.

"I got the front here, Robin," Steve cuts in smoothly. "You ladies take your time, make sure you pick out a good one!"

Eddie waits another beat, listening at their footsteps shuffle away, before he pops up from behind the shelf. Steve, lighting up like a Christmas tree, beams at him.

"Am I a genius or what?" he whispers, grinning ear to ear.

"Your lesbian powers know no equal," Eddie says just as quietly, taking the girl's spot at the counter, leaning into Steve's space. Steve happily mirrors him, until they're tucked together, the world narrowing down to the two of them. It's Eddie's favorite place to be. "All hail Steve Harrington, blessid he, lesbian whisper. Come to aid all useless queers in the fight against singledom."

"Thank you, thank you," Steve says with an air of novel benevolence. "I promise to only use my powers for good."

"Dingus. Doofus."

They jump away from each other as if shocked. Robin glowers at them both, but the pretty girl behind her is giggling and standing way too close for friendly, just at Robin's elbow.

"Move it, lovebirds," she hisses as she rounds the desk. "I need to check Claire out."

"I think you already have," Steve says. His smile this time is down right evil.

Robin actually hisses at him, and hip checks him away from the register. Eddie does a bow, sweeping his arm out to give Claire the prime spot in front of the desk, before he turns back to Steve.

"My dear, if you could please," he simpers, all posh and nasally. "Show me to your finest, grossest horror movie, thank you my good sir."

"Ugh," Steve groans already heading off into the shelves, not waiting for Eddie to follow. "You're lucky I love you, Ed. Shit gives me nightmares."

"I know," Eddie sings, chasing him. "I love you too."

#steddie #stobin #steve is the barney to robin's ted mosbey #what a horrifying sentence but the sentiment is there #oh no a himym steddie + buckingham au when???#ANYWAYS just imagine the store is totally empty and steve saw this chick at dyke night when robin dragged him along one time #so he felt super confident in the safety of being a lil more open #this was silly i actually wanted to write it about eddie being in love with steve's evil nasty face when he brutally roasts robin/everyone #instead it was this thank you for your time #my steddies

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lilacgaby · 6 months ago

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title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

#watched this the other day and cried again #lilac speaks꧂#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #bakugo drabble #mha x you #bakugo oneshot #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

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a-hermit-pining · 27 days ago

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LADS Men If You Turn Evil

AN: istg I keep getting all these ideas while working out 💗

Pairing: Lads boys x gn reader

Genre: DRAMA

Summary: after eons of nurturing the world with fragments of your heart, you learn the truth. Every death, every rebirth, burns in your heart. And now you want to burn the world.

(I do not own these characters)

Rafayel:

He looks at the destruction around him, the fragments of a broken city, the wrath in your eyes.

You pace the room, your steps unyielding to the passage of time.

He has been awake with you for countless nights, his ears filled with the cries of his kin, burning, drowning in the boiling seas.

He tugs at your arm, pulling you into his embrace, his fingers threading through your hair.

"Why can I not be at peace?" you whisper, cupping his cheek. "All our enemies have fallen, but why is there no relief? Who else must I seek to bring us justice?"

"It is my fault... I should have prevented this," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I should have never allowed it to come to be."

To watch you fall was his fall. To witness beauty drain from you was his failure. He has you back, but at what cost?

"But I will make things right," he whispers, pulling you closer.

"No more pain."

A gasp tears from your lips as his dagger pierces your back.

Your fingers clutch at his shirt, your blood soaking into his hand. "How dare you…" you seethe, your rage flickering even as your strength wanes. "I should have—"

Blood gurgles in your throat as he pulls your head against his chest, his shoulders trembling.

He would rather bear your hatred than lose your soul.

The cries of the world fade as a new one begins to take shape.

But all he can hear now are his own ragged sobs as he holds your cooling body.

Xavier:

"You have lost your mind!" Xavier’s voice is sharp, his fury barely masking the horror in his eyes.

He looks down from the castle walls, your castle now. Below, corpses rot on pikes, writhing with maggots.

Philos will never come to be. The world has already shifted on its axis.

You pin him to the wall, leaning him over the edge. "You will not talk to me like that, Xavier." Your voice is quiet, but the weight behind it is absolute. "This is my world. I may do as I please. It would do you good to listen, to stay as my consort, not the crown prince of Philos."

His breath hitches as he stares at you, searching for something, hesitation, remorse, restraint.

But you are resolute.

Your eyes soften at his distraught expression. Gently, you pull him back from the edge and release your grip. "Do not let this drive a wedge between us. I do not wish to lose you...I’ve only just remembered you." You press a kiss to his lips, warm, fleeting, achingly tender.

"This is merely a necessary cleansing," you murmur, as if explaining the weather. "A precaution, so the world understands the new order. So all who bled me for ages finally know what it means to bleed."

And so, bound by love, Xavier became a puppet to your wishes.

He waited for the new world you promised, sought desperately for the salve to soothe the wounds your changing forms left in him.

With time, he learned to ignore the mangled bodies outside the capital. The sunken faces beyond the castle walls.

He learned to be happy.

Zayne:

He never stands idle.

Not even at the first signs of your fall. Not even when the shadows lengthen, and the world begins to crumble at your feet.

He does everything he can to undo the damage.

He is a doctor, ridding people of pain is his purpose.

He funds revolutions, smuggles food and medicine, seeks to turn your heart away from vengeance.

But he does not leave you.

Not when you’re hurting. Not when the weight of the world fractures your soul. He stays, doing all he can to hold the world together before it collapses entirely.

For the first time in years, he prays to Astra.

He begs his god to aid the world.

Until you find his secrets. Until you strip him of the power you once gave him.

You lock him away in a tower, bound to you. And then...then, true helplessness sets in.

He watches his betrayal fuel your madness. Watches as your fury, once directed at tyrants, turns upon the innocent.

In the frozen chamber, you loom over him, his knees pinned to the ground by the weight of your power.

"Do you wish to leave me, Zayne?" Your fingers tilt his chin upward, forcing him to meet your crazed gaze. "Tell me, do you wish to escape?"

He does not flinch. His neck is littered with the climbing scars of his evol, of his futile resistance. It is all a proof of the turmoil within you, that settles upon his skin. He knows it better than any.

"No." His voice is steady. Resolute. "I wish to stay next to you."

He means it. Earnestly.

Even if your presence comes at this cost, he is willing to pay.

He has never wished to abandon you.

Not even at the cost of himself.

Sylus:

You are his moral compass.

So when you fall, he falls with you.

There is nothing to stop you both.

His days are spent treasuring the reality of having you back, of having your love.

And if the cost is the world, then let it burn.

The core in his eye revels in the doom. It rejoices in the love that blooms within you, in the hunger that consumes you both.

It is fulfilled.

He is fulfilled.

He does not make you ruler of just the Earth, he crowns you sovereign of the universe.

After all, he has always been willing to kill and die for you.

Devoured by your bloodlust, he kneels.

Your consort. Your ruin.

He is content in this fall.

Caleb:

He is your sword.

The day you pledge destruction, he is the hand that pulls the trigger. No questions asked.

He is content, more than content, being the only one to receive your love.

The world had it coming. To condemn you to such pain was their undoing.

He bleeds millions to warm the world that once sought to devour you. He has no mercy for those who cower beneath your gaze.

He has your love.

But why, then, does his heart fall at the sound of your hollow laughter?

Why can he not bring himself to burn the memories of the past?

Why has he kept your hunter’s gear, carefully stored away in his rooms?

He so dearly wishes to keep you pleased. But he knows, this destruction is not born of greed. It is the consequence of centuries of pain.

And no matter how much blood he spills, it will never ease that pain.

No matter how many bodies pile beneath your feet, he cannot bring back your joy.

That was stolen, broken, snatched by those who now rot in unmarked graves.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace caleb #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #caleb x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #drama #evil reader #dark fantasy #angst

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139123 · 2 years ago

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EarCentric EasyCharge Rechargeable Hearing Aids (Pair) for Seniors

About this item

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✅Fastest charging + longest lasting: 20 hours of hearing with one quick charge

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#Hearing Aids #Behind-The-Ear

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kiwriteswords · 14 days ago

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You can hear it in the silence [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: After the gifset, I needed to play around with storyline! I tried to remain as sensitive to the topic as possible, so I hope it is seen as an exploration into Hotch's characterization and not as an attempt to glorify or mislead anyone on the topic! Tags/Warnings: female reader, hearing loss, hard of hearing, Hotch losing his hearing, spoilers to season 4, hearing aid, age gap, established relationship, mentions of sexual themes, canon typical themes Summary: As Hotch struggles with gradual hearing loss from an old injury, you stand by him through his stubborn pride and hidden vulnerability, guiding him gently toward acceptance, healing, and a deeper love.

You tucked your legs beneath you, sinking into the plush corner of Hotch's sofa. Warm, golden lamplight spilled across the room, softening the otherwise sharp angles of his apartment.

There was something intimately peaceful about the quiet--

The muffled rush of cars passing outside, a faint echo of jazz filtering from his speakers, and the occasional tap-tap-tap of raindrops against the window.

He stood near the kitchen, sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows as he stirred the simmering sauce, the spicy, hearty aroma drifting pleasantly toward you.

Watching him cook was an indulgent pleasure you'd grown quietly attached to. Hotch cooking felt both endearingly domestic and intensely personal, a side of him few had ever glimpsed.

He glanced up and caught you staring, and you didn't look away. Instead, you raised your eyebrows slightly, a playful smirk ghosting your lips.

"What?" His mouth curled into a soft smile, his dark eyes glinting in quiet amusement.

"Nothing," you teased gently, resting your chin in your palm. "Just admiring the view."

He chuckled softly--

A rare sound, warm and rich.

The low hum vibrated pleasantly across your skin, drawing heat to your cheeks. "Dinner will be ready soon. Think you can survive until then?"

"I think I'll manage," you replied, stretching lazily and shifting your gaze toward the bookshelf behind him. "But it wouldn't kill you to hurry up. I'm starving."

"Careful," he said, deadpan but with unmistakable warmth, "I might be tempted to slow down just to teach you patience."

You hummed lightly in response, content in the easy banter. Moments like these--

Unhurried. Quiet.

They made everything else disappear.

With Aaron, you felt profoundly safe.

Secure, in a way you'd scarcely dared hope was possible.

Hotch turned slightly away, and you watched curiously as he tilted his head just slightly, brows knitting in brief confusion.

It was subtle--

A momentary lapse in his carefully composed expression.

"Everything okay?" you asked gently, your voice cutting through the silence.

He straightened, expression immediately smoothing over, shoulders squaring. "Fine. Thought I heard something."

You studied him quietly, unconvinced but choosing not to press.

Yet, somewhere deep in your chest, a faint unease flickered. It wasn't the first time you'd caught him reacting that way--

Tilting his head. Eyes briefly distracted as if straining to listen to something faint or far away.

You pushed the concern aside, smiling softly instead. "You know, if you're losing interest in my excellent company, you can just say so."

His mouth tugged upward again, but his eyes remained slightly guarded. "Never."

"Good," you breathed softly, allowing your playful tone to smooth away the subtle tension lingering in the air. "Because you're stuck with me."

He moved closer, placing two bowls carefully onto the coffee table, the steam drifting upward, mingling with the cool air. He eased onto the sofa beside you, close enough that your knees brushed.

Warmth radiated from him--

Soft and reassuring.

You reached instinctively for his hand, feeling the slight roughness of his skin as his fingers wove through yours.

He lifted his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing tenderly across your cheekbone. His eyes held yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your heart fluttered, breath stuttering for a moment as his quiet, sincere words settled deep in your chest. You gently squeezed his hand, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment.

Yet, despite the tender exchange, a quiet, uneasy feeling lingered--

His brief moment of hesitation from earlier replaying in your mind.

You'd noticed it happening more frequently: moments where Hotch seemed to drift, as if missing parts of conversations, his gaze slightly distracted.

You remembered briefly overhearing something from Rossi years ago--

A cautious conversation mentioning something about the explosion Hotch had endured, how doctors had warned of hearing loss over time.

How, per usual, he didn’t follow orders, and it bothered him from time to time. And how, most of all, he’d never admit it.

The BAU briefing room buzzed gently with early-morning energy.

JJ and Penelope stood confidently at the front, flipping smoothly through photos and maps projected onto the screen. Beside you, Emily scribbled quietly into a notepad, while Morgan drummed his fingers softly against the table, eyes focused forward. Rossi looked less than entertained watching the slides unfold, and Spencer was rambling on about something.

You settled comfortably into your usual seat, your thigh subtly pressed against Hotch’s beneath the table--

A quiet intimacy in the bright, professional atmosphere.

Hotch sat beside you, posture rigid but composed, pen poised over his yellow legal pad. His suit jacket was neatly buttoned, every hair meticulously in place, but the slight crease between his brows told you something was troubling him.

Occasionally, his knee pressed gently back into yours, wordlessly reassuring, even as he kept his eyes fixed on JJ and Penelope.

JJ tapped the screen softly, her voice measured and clear. "Local PD found another victim early this morning in Annapolis. Same MO: blunt force trauma, wrists bound, no defensive wounds. The unsub is cautious, controlled--clearly experienced."

You glanced at Hotch, noting how his gaze flickered briefly down, brow furrowing deeper, jaw tightening ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his expression was fleeting but unmistakable.

Penelope continued smoothly, gesturing to the screen, voice steady but quiet as she explained something more about the latest victim. Her age, occupation, and the location where she'd been found.

Yet Hotch’s eyes narrowed, head tilting minutely toward his right shoulder, almost imperceptibly angling his ear toward Penelope’s voice.

Something twisted softly in your chest--

An echo of that vague, uncomfortable worry from days before.

"So we're thinking he's escalating?" Emily asked, pen poised mid-note.

JJ nodded slowly. "Yes. At this rate, the window between kills will shorten. If we don't catch him now--"

She stopped suddenly when Hotch cut in, voice clipped but uncertain, betraying an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Wait, JJ--repeat what you said before."

The room fell quiet, eyes briefly flicking toward Hotch. JJ recovered quickly, professionally smoothing over the awkward pause. "The unsub is escalating. The gap between each kill is narrowing, and we anticipate he'll strike again soon."

"Right," Hotch said stiffly, his eyes flickering down briefly to his notes, cheeks faintly flushed with something--embarrassment, frustration, maybe both. "Continue."

Your stomach twisted slightly. Beneath the table, you subtly shifted your knee, gently nudging his in quiet reassurance. Hotch responded almost unconsciously, nudging back, his hand tightening around the pen.

Morgan’s eyes flickered briefly toward you, then Hotch, expression unreadable but concerned. You pretended not to notice, instead focusing intently on Penelope’s continued briefing.

Your mind, however, lingered uneasily on Hotch’s brief lapse.

Was it becoming more frequent, or were you just now noticing how often he seemed to miss bits of conversation?

Penelope wrapped up, clicking off the projector as she gathered her files. Chairs scraped softly against the carpeted floor as the team stood, quietly murmuring.

Emily and Morgan moved toward the door, and Rossi paused to speak with JJ in low, quiet tones. Spencer shuffled out behind with his files and book.

You stood slowly, eyes lingering briefly on Hotch as he remained seated, focused intently on his notes, frustration radiating faintly from the set of his shoulders.

The room had emptied around you both, leaving you together in silence, the quiet hum of electronics filling the tense space.

You moved carefully closer, gently leaning a hip against the edge of the table near him. "Hey," you said softly, voice deliberately casual.

He didn’t immediately respond, still staring down at the legal pad, jaw tight. Then, finally, he exhaled softly, looking up at you with carefully guarded eyes. "I missed something important."

Your heart tightened at the quiet frustration in his tone. "It happens," you said gently, attempting to ease his tension. "You've got a lot on your plate."

Hotch's mouth tightened briefly, clearly resisting the reassurance. "No, I--" He hesitated, shaking his head slightly, eyes briefly drifting downward. "This is different."

Your chest ached at the quiet admission. You reached instinctively toward his hand, your fingertips grazing softly against his knuckles.

"Aaron," you began softly, voice gentle yet firm. "If something’s going on, you know you can talk to me."

He glanced up sharply, eyes intense, briefly clouded with vulnerability, embarrassment, fear--

Emotions he rarely let you see so plainly.

Then he swallowed, clearing his expression quickly, forcing the careful neutrality back into place. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You hesitated, knowing he was holding back, but recognizing the stubborn tilt of his chin--

The silent, firm resolve behind his eyes.

Pressing further right now wouldn’t help.

"Okay," you whispered softly instead, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "But I'm here when you're ready to talk."

Hotch met your eyes again, quiet gratitude softening the hard lines of his face. He squeezed your hand gently, silent acknowledgment passing between you both.

For a moment, you simply stood together, the quiet tension slowly dissolving into something warmer, gentler.

Yet, beneath that warmth, a quiet worry lingered--

Because despite his reassurance, you could sense something deeper brewing,

Something difficult.

Painful.

That Hotch wasn't yet willing to face.

And something, you feared, that might soon be impossible to ignore.

The air was thick with tension, humidity clinging to your skin, pressing in like a tangible weight. It was late afternoon, but thick, gray clouds made the sky heavy, draping the crime scene in muted, eerie twilight. Tall grass swayed gently around the abandoned farmhouse, whispering secrets with every subtle breeze.

You moved cautiously, weapon drawn, heart steady but pulse thundering quietly in your ears.

Morgan was ahead of you, shoulder pressed against the worn, splintered wood of the house's side wall. Hotch stood just to your right, face etched with sharp determination, jaw clenched tightly as he raised his gun.

"Hotch," Morgan hissed urgently, voice tight with anxiety, one hand held up cautiously, signaling you all to halt. "Stand back--there’s movement inside!"

Your eyes shot quickly to Hotch, stomach tightening painfully as he continued forward, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s hushed warning.

His eyes narrowed, searching the shadows of the building's interior through a cracked window.

Your voice caught in your throat, your heart suddenly seizing in panic.

Then, in a rush, everything unfolded at once. A shadow moved sharply inside. The unmistakable glint of metal flashed--

A barrel aiming directly toward Hotch.

Fear surged through you.

Hot and immediate.

"Hotch, down!" you shouted desperately, lunging toward him.

You collided roughly, shoulder meeting his chest, shoving him forcefully out of the way. His body hit the ground beneath you, solid and warm even as the sharp crack of gunfire echoed violently through the humid air.

Splitting your ears with a painful roar.

You lay there, breathless, heart slamming against your ribs, your body shielding his as silence suddenly descended--

Heavy, deafening.

Then beneath you, Hotch shifted abruptly, groaning in evident pain. You scrambled off quickly, eyes immediately scanning him for injury, chest heaving in sharp, panicked breaths.

"Aaron," you gasped, voice strained, searching his tense expression urgently. "Are you hit?"

He shook his head, teeth clenched hard, eyes squeezed shut briefly, brows knitted together tightly. "No, it's--I’m fine," he rasped, clearly anything but.

A flicker of raw agony danced briefly across his features as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, jaw tense. He winced visibly, a hand instinctively pressing against his ear--

The injured one. The one from the explosion all those years ago.

You watched helplessly, fear tightening your chest as Morgan rushed closer, his voice filled with concern. "Hotch, man, you didn't hear me?"

Hotch's eyes snapped up sharply, dark and defensive, embarrassment and frustration flickering just beneath their surface. "I heard you," he lied tightly, voice strained, glancing toward the farmhouse. "It's nothing."

Morgan's jaw tightened, unconvinced. "Doesn't look like nothing."

Hotch shot him a sharp look, face rigid, pushing himself onto his feet with visible effort. He swayed briefly, fingers still pressed tightly against his injured ear.

You gently grasped his elbow, steadying him, your pulse racing beneath your fingertips as you felt the slight tremble in his frame.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice filled with quiet urgency, desperate for him to listen. "You need to--"

"Later," he cut you off. Sharply. Voice hoarse, and frustration evident but hidden beneath firm authority. "Let's clear the house first."

You bit your lip, stomach churning in helpless worry, but nodded silently, acknowledging his need to regain control. You stepped back, forcing yourself to refocus, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s gaze linger briefly, heavy with gratitude and quiet vulnerability he wasn’t ready to voice.

As Hotch moved past you toward Morgan, Rossi appeared suddenly beside you, his eyes quietly intense with a knowing look. "He's getting worse."

Your chest tightened painfully, and your voice dropped to a careful whisper. "He won’t admit it."

Rossi exhaled quietly, his gaze following Hotch's tense movements as he tried to regain composure. "Eventually, he'll have to."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken fear settle deep in your bones. Your gaze stayed locked on Hotch, noting the slight wince he couldn’t fully hide each time a sound echoed too loudly, each sharp voice crackling through the radios.

Quietly, privately, you worried--

More afraid now than you'd ever been.

Afraid not only of what this meant for his job.

But more painfully, of what it meant for the man you loved so fiercely and the future you had quietly hoped you'd share.

You exhaled shakily, gripping your weapon tighter, forcing back the quiet, fearful ache in your chest.

Because right now, he needed your strength.

Your steadiness.

Your silence.

The lights in your apartment were dim, casting comforting shadows across the room. Rain fell softly outside, droplets tapping gently against the windowpane, offering a quiet rhythm that ordinarily would soothe--

But tonight, tension hung thickly in the air.

Stubbornly resistant to any comfort.

Hotch sat silently at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed low, fingers clasped tightly in front of him.

His tie was loosened carelessly, his usually crisp shirt wrinkled from restless movements. You watched quietly from the doorway, your heart aching sharply at the sight--

This towering, steady presence in your life suddenly appeared unbearably…small.

You approached carefully, your steps nearly silent across the carpet. "Aaron?"

His eyes lifted slowly, dark and heavy with exhaustion and something else--

Something raw,

Fragile.

Something you'd never seen before.

You gently sank down beside him, your knee softly brushing his thigh, offering a quiet, grounding comfort.

"Talk to me," you whispered, your voice carefully steady despite the tightness in your throat. "Please."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his jaw tight, the muscles beneath his skin tense as he struggled to gather words. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he struggled to suppress.

"I couldn't hear him," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Jack...he stood up there, proud and excited, and I couldn't hear. a. single. word."

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerable confession, your fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. Gently lacing your fingers through his.

His hand trembled faintly in yours, and that subtle movement sent an aching, helpless pang through you.

"The ringing," he continued quietly, his voice shaking subtly beneath its calm exterior. "The pain...it won't stop. It's constant. I can't sleep. I can't focus. I've missed things at work, important things--and now..." He swallowed tightly, eyes falling closed briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Now it's stealing moments with my son."

He shook his head bitterly, frustration and shame mingling in his eyes as he refused to meet your gaze. "I ignored it. I thought I could handle it. The doctors warned me after the explosion. Told me this could happen eventually, but I thought--"

"Aaron," you breathed, squeezing his hand gently, desperate to ease the pain radiating from every tense muscle. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known it would come this quickly."

"I ignored every sign," he interrupted sharply, voice thick with self-directed anger. "I was too stubborn, too proud. And now--now it’s costing me things I can't get back."

The admission fell heavily between you, laden with quiet agony.

You moved closer, turning slightly so your knee pressed more firmly against his thigh, desperate to offer comfort.

Grounding.

Anything to ease the pain that radiated from him in palpable wavves.

"You can't change what's happened, you whispered, carefully choosing each word, voice gentle but unwavering. "But you can still take steps forward. Let me help you, Aaron. Please."

He finally turned, meeting your gaze fully, eyes vulnerable, haunted by embarrassment and shame he struggled deeply to hide.

His voice was barely audible, weighted with a defeat you'd never imagined possible from him. "I've never felt so powerless."

Your heart shattered quietly at those words, the painful honesty behind them overwhelming you with tenderness and sorrow.

Your hand lifted instinctively, gently cupping his cheek, thumb softly tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

"You aren't powerless, you murmured, voice quietly fierce, unwavering in conviction. "And you're not alone. You never will be, as long as I'm here."

He exhaled softly, leaning subtly into your touch, eyes falling shut for a moment, surrendering briefly to the quiet solace of your closeness. When his eyes reopened, they were softer, the rawness replaced by something tender and grateful.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, voice cracking gently.

You shook your head softly, heart aching fiercely at the vulnerability of his words. "You deserve far more than you'll ever let yourself believe."

Slowly, cautiously, Aaron leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours. Your breath caught, chest tight with emotion as you absorbed the quiet weight of this moment--

His quiet surrender, his trust, his raw vulnerability laid bare.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes briefly, fingers threading softly through his hair, grounding yourself as much as him in the intimacy of this moment. "Then let me be brave enough for both of us," you whispered firmly, gently brushing your thumb across his temple.

You felt the faint tremble ripple through him, the quiet surrender as his walls slowly cracked further open. He drew in a shaky breath, nodding subtly against your forehead, quietly allowing himself--perhaps for the first time--to rely entirely on someone else.

And as you sat quietly beside him, holding tightly onto the man who'd always seemed unshakably strong, you silently vowed you'd help him rebuild what he'd lost.

Piece by piece.

No matter how long it took.

The doctor's office was pristine and starkly clinical--

A sharp contrast to the warmth and comfort of your home.

You sat beside Hotch, gently leaning your shoulder against his as you waited. He had tried earlier to insist that you didn't need to come--had tried to spare you the burden--but you'd met his protests with a quiet, unwavering smile.

"I'm going with you, Aaron. End of discussion."

He hadn't argued further.

He knew better.

Now, sitting quietly beside you in the bright room, Hotch’s knee bounced anxiously, the steady rhythm betraying the nervousness he carefully concealed.

You reached over quietly, fingers finding his, weaving together in quiet reassurance. His grip tightened immediately, as though your touch alone kept him grounded.

The door opened with a quiet click, and Dr. Bennett, an older man with gentle eyes and a warm presence, entered, nodding warmly as he settled onto the small rolling stool in front of you both.

"Good to see you, Aaron," Dr. Bennett greeted him kindly, glancing briefly toward you with an understanding nod. "And I see you've brought moral support."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly, a small, strained attempt at a smile. "She insisted."

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Dr. Bennett nodded knowingly, looking down at his chart, “It seems like you haven’t had your eat treated since,” He flipped through the pages, “2008.” The doctor looked to Hotch, who just kept a blank face,” turning his attention back to the chart before placing it on the counter, "Let's take a look."

The room fell into careful quiet as the doctor gently tilted Hotch’s head, using a slim otoscope to peer carefully into his injured ear.

Hotch remained perfectly still, tension lining every muscle. You watched closely, noting the slight furrow of his brow and the quiet tightening of his jaw.

After a moment, Dr. Bennett leaned back slightly, setting down the instrument and meeting Hotch’s gaze seriously. "There’s significant scar tissue buildup, Aaron. The original injury must have been extensive. Combine that with years of exposure to gunfire, constant travel on planes, and frankly, the passage of time...it's no wonder you're experiencing these symptoms now."

Hotch's expression hardened subtly, a brief flicker of unease shadowing his dark eyes. "So, what does that mean?"

Dr. Bennett exhaled softly, folding his hands carefully. "Realistically? You’d greatly benefit from a hearing aid. It won't restore what's been lost, but it can significantly improve your quality of life. Ease the discomfort, lessen the ringing and strain."

Hotch visibly flinched at the suggestion, discomfort and distaste clear in his tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping quickly to the floor. Your heart tightened in response, understanding immediately the quiet shame and embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.

"A hearing aid," Hotch repeated quietly, the words thick with distaste, as if saying it aloud made it more rea--

More painful.

You rubbed your thumb gently over the back of his hand, speaking softly. "It could really help, Aaron."

He glanced at you sharply, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, his embarrassment raw and unshielded. His voice was quiet, barely masking his frustration. "It feels...like admitting defeat."

You leaned closer, voice gentle but firm, meeting his eyes directly. "It's not defeat. It's choosing yourself--choosing your health and your life. You deserve that, Aaron. You don't have to carry this alone."

His gaze held yours for a moment, quietly searching, vulnerability shimmering behind the carefully constructed barriers. He swallowed tightly, exhaling softly as his shoulders slowly relaxed. You saw the shift--

The quiet surrender.

And the reluctant, tentative acceptance.

Dr. Bennett smiled softly, recognizing the delicate tension between you both, sensing Hotch’s internal struggle. "Why don't you take some time to think it over? It's a significant decision, but an empowering one."

Hotch exhaled slowly, nodding once, his voice quiet and rough with emotion. "I appreciate it."

The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the gentle quiet of the room. Hotch's hand trembled faintly in yours, and your heart ached softly, recognizing how difficult this moment was for him--this man who had always been the protector, the authority figure, so quietly proud, now having to acknowledge something he couldn't control or conquer on his own.

"You don't have to decide right now," you whispered softly, lifting your free hand to tenderly brush through his hair, gently soothing the tension in his neck. "But I'm proud of you for taking this step."

Hotch swallowed again, eyes briefly drifting shut, leaning subtly into your comforting touch. His voice was quiet, nearly breaking. "It's hard."

Your chest tightened painfully at the raw vulnerability in his admission. "I know," you murmured, voice barely audible, aching with fierce affection. "But you won't do this alone, Aaron. Ever."

He finally turned toward you fully, his eyes softening, guarded walls slowly falling away. His free hand rose, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb softly brushing your skin in quiet gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, the words thick with emotion. "For being here."

You turned slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, letting your lips linger gently. "Always."

Rain pattered lightly against the windshield, gentle but persistent. The rhythmic sweep of the wipers matched the quiet rhythm of your heart as you watched Hotch from the passenger seat, his expression shadowed, his hands gripping the wheel just a bit tighter than usual.

The streetlights blurred through the rain-streaked windows, painting muted streaks of amber and white across the dark interior of the car.

"You know," he began suddenly, breaking the heavy silence, voice edged with quiet frustration, "I’m not even fifty yet. People in their forties shouldn't need hearing aids."

You suppressed a soft smile, knowing exactly where this was headed, and instead settled comfortably back against the seat, turning your head to face him fully. "Aaron, hearing loss isn't an age thing. You know that."

He made a soft noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, shaking his head stubbornly. "Still, a hearing aid. It's something older people need. It's--" He hesitated, clearly struggling with embarrassment. "I don't want you to look at me differently."

Your heart twisted softly, tenderness swelling beneath your ribs. "I won’t," you murmured reassuringly, your voice gentle. "I couldn't."

He shook his head again, lips pressed tightly together. "You're already younger than me. You already look--"

"Aaron," you interrupted gently, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. "I've never cared about the age gap. Why would a hearing aid suddenly change that?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead, jaw tight. "Because you'll be standing next to a man who can't hear without help. It just feels...like weakness. I don’t want to be someone you feel you have to take care of."

You softened even further, thumb brushing soothingly across his thigh. "Letting someone care for you isn't weakness. You've been strong alone for so long--you don’t always have to be."

He fell quiet again, the silence filled only by the soft hum of the tires on wet pavement, the steady rhythm of raindrops tapping gently overhead.

You watched him closely, allowing him the space to process his thoughts, knowing his stubbornness and pride needed room to fade into acceptance.

After several long, tense moments, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, vulnerability beginning to edge into the firm lines of his expression. "I just don't want it to change how you see me."

You squeezed his thigh softly. "I fell in love with you exactly as you are--nothing could change that."

He was quiet again, fingers flexing slightly on the steering wheel. Then he exhaled sharply, voice rougher, lower, weighed down with self-awareness. "I can't keep missing things," he admitted slowly, reluctantly. "On cases...with Jack..." His voice softened even more, cracking faintly, "And with you."

Your heart clenched gently, breath catching softly in your throat at his quiet admission.

He swallowed tightly, glancing quickly toward you before returning his gaze to the road, embarrassment evident beneath his careful composure.

"I'm tired of being exhausted," he whispered roughly, almost to himself. "Tired of the ringing. Tired of missing Jack's life. And--" His voice tightened further, vulnerability clear, "--tired of being so exhausted from not sleeping that I can't even make love to you."

His words pierced deeply, the raw honesty stealing your breath and filling your heart with tenderness and quiet ache. You leaned closer, silently offering comfort, your hand tightening softly on his thigh.

"Aaron," you whispered gently, reassuringly, "it's okay. I'm right here."

His shoulders relaxed subtly, tension beginning to slowly drain away. "I know you are," he admitted quietly, finally meeting your eyes briefly at a red light. "That's why I know I can't let this get worse."

"I suppose a hearing aid wouldn’t be the worst thing," he finally conceded quietly, eyes fixed ahead but voice lighter now--almost resigned. "If it means I can stop missing out on the things that matter most."

You smiled warmly, affection surging gently through your chest. "Exactly."

Hotch’s lips finally curled upward, the faintest, tentative hint of a genuine smile. He lifted one hand from the wheel, gently grasping your hand on his thigh, intertwining your fingers carefully.

"And if it means I can properly hear all those sweet things you whisper to me," he murmured, humor and warmth finally beginning to edge back into his voice, "then maybe it’ll be worth it."

You laughed softly, relief flooding your chest at seeing him finally relax. You squeezed his fingers gently, heart swelling with quiet joy. "I promise to speak clearly."

He lifted your intertwined hands, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, gaze lingering warmly on yours at the next red light. "I’ll hold you to that."

And in the quiet warmth of that moment, beneath the gentle rhythm of rain, you felt the weight of his worries begin to lift, replaced by something hopefu--

Something stronger than fear.

Or embarrassment,

Or stubborn pride.

Something you knew, with absolute certainty, would carry you both forward.

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