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writingthroughmyass · 4 months ago

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Service Animal (Part one)

My mans Logan Howlett X Reader (afab)

Part two here

WARNING: This is soooo self insert it's not even funny. I get weird migraines that present like absent seizures and thought it would be nice to get a warning beforehand by my favourite babygirl Logan (like my own personal service animal). This is gonna be in three parts, it's mostly finished and ends in smooshing so be ready for that ;)

UPDATE: turns out my migraines are actually mini strokes :)

The after effects of using your power was kicking your ass.

In a daze, you made it to your private room and went straight to your bathroom. You felt the nausea rising up in your throat and quickly opened the toilet lid to throw up.

The multiple alternate realities of what could have happened tonight flashed before your eyes. Ororo, Jean, Scott, Logan, all collapsed on the floor, dead. Their screams played in a relentless loop in your head; you were dissociating badly. Your surroundings melted away until there was nothing but the countless ways they could have died if you hadn't bent reality to avoid it.

Always. It's always like this.

Gradually, you begin to return to your body, only to realise there was someone in the room with you, holding your hair back.

Terrified, your body snapped up from its kneeling position to face the intruder.

“Woah, hey, it's just me. Calm down.”

“L-Logan?” you slurred, suddenly feeling self conscious of the smell of your breath.

“I knocked and called out but you didn't answer. So I came in to check on you.”

You eyed him, feeling suspicious of how out of character this was for him.

“Why are you looking at me like I'm lying? I'm not totally heartless,” he said defensively.

“Why'd you come in the first place to see me though? I thought you were pissed with me,” you grumble.

When you'd overdone it with your powers, Logan threw a hissy fit and yelled at you for going too far. While you knew it was out of care, it still rankled you that he was acting as if you were a child. You knew what you were doing.

“I… just had a bad feeling,” he said quietly. “Y'know how I've got my heightened senses. I could tell something was off with you.”

“I'm fine. Just need to rest. This is normal for me.”

You turned around to the bathroom sink and grabbed your toothbrush. You gave your teeth and tongue a quick clean, wanting to just wash all the blood off your body so you could sleep.

It felt like you had a raging hangover from drinking Everclear all night.

When you turned from the sink you noticed Logan was still there.

“Uh… need something? I wanna get ready for bed and pass out.”

“Yeah, I need to know you're okay,” he says.

“I told you, I'm fine. I'm going to shower so please leave.”

Your patience was wearing thin. But you were also aware that some of it was nervousness coming out as aggression. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, although his attitude left much to be desired. His behaviour tonight was quite frankly really sweet and it was psyching you out. You were already in the midst of losing touch with reality and his actions were so contradictory to his usual self that it was causing you a psychotic break.

“You're not listening to me,” he ground out, losing some of his own patience. “I'm telling you that something is wrong with you.”

You stared silently at him, mouth slightly hanging open.

“Okay, that came out the wrong way.” He was ruffling his hair in agitation. Cute. “What I'm saying is- I'm… ah…”

“Please, Logan, I just want a shower so I can go to bed…”

“Look, I'll just wait in your room and I'll leave once you're in bed safe, ‘kay,” he says, turning to the door and walking out, shutting it behind himself.

Fuck.

You just wanted to be alone so you could have a good cry. You were incredibly confused about what in the world was going on but now you were really getting scared. And Logan's words were not helping.

What if he's right and this time your connection with reality has been completely severed? But what else were you supposed to do? Let them all die? Even with your special training with Charles, your power was so unruly and chaotic that it was terrifying. You had to be careful or there would be no way back.

You got undressed and turned on the shower, stepping inside. It was only once you were under the hot stream of water that you realised you'd left your pyjamas in your bedroom. You groaned aloud. Fuck, now you'd have to walk in front of Logan in nothing but a towel. Why the fuck was he here? You wished he'd just leave.

You watched the dried blood wash away from your skin, turning the floor of your shower a bright red.

You felt your stomach drop and your head turned fuzzy. The sound of your shower disappeared. The safety of your surroundings melted away.

Scott, his eyes gouged out from his head. Ororo’s limbs crumpled every which way, her eyes clouded over not because of her powers but because she was lifeless. Jean, her neck holding on to her body by a thread, her cranium blasted open and her brain dripping down her face.

Logan, on the ground, ripped to shreds, his Adamantium bones showing through his torn flesh. And the wounds weren't healing.

It was always like this. As if you were being punished for playing god. It was as if all the horrible realities you prevented from happening still lived on but solely in your mind, driving you insane. It left scars of trauma on your psyche, Charles had told you. So you had to be careful in how you used your powers or you may become completely untethered from reality. A fate worse than death.

Vaguely, you could hear yourself mumbling and gasping and swallowing loudly, trying to find some kind of equilibrium in the mess of your mind.

You were trying desperately to connect back with your body but at the same time you didn't want to because it only meant having to fight this same battle over and over again.

Seeing your friends die before your very eyes in hundreds of thousands of different ways, experiencing each traumatic story to its conclusion. Only to have it all unravel into a reality where none of it happened, but the whiplash makes you doubt this reality too. It's always too good to be true. You feel it in your bones that you don't deserve this. That the way you twist reality is wrong and one day it'll catch up to you in the worst possible way.

You feel water running down your face and remember that you're in the shower. You try to ground yourself and come back to your body. You hear the water splashing, feel the ground beneath your feet, the solid embrace around you.

You try to move but you can't. Finally, you snap fully to your body. Your mind is groggy, feeling like you'd been hit by a truck. But there's the unmistakable warmth surrounding you, dense and as unyielding as brick.

Your face is roughly yanked upwards and you open your eyes.

“Fuck, finally! Are you alright?”

You stare blearily, mouth open and dry from the adrenaline that had been pumping through your body just moments ago.

Bright hazel eyes. Huh. So pretty. You'd never noticed.

You realise you're not supporting your own weight. You're finally aware that Logan has you in an embrace, holding your body up, one hand around your waist and the other on your jaw as he looks into your face. The water on your face isn't from the shower, you realise. It's your tears.

“Bloody hell, please say something,” he says angrily. You feel some of your own anger flare up in response. What's his problem?

“Fuck,” you croak.

You feel his chest vibrate against yours as he laughs, suddenly aware that you're as naked as the day you were born and this man is fully clothed standing in your shower, getting his white singlet wet. Giving you a bear hug…

Your brain short circuits as you try to come up with words, feeling your whole body heat with embarrassment.

“W-what are you doing in here?” you manage to slur.

“Helping your ass,” he says roughly. “Can you stand?”

Fuck, good question. Can I stand??

“C-close your eyes first,” you demand.

“Bit late to be feeling shy now don't you think?” he teases with a wink.

“Just close ‘em!” you yell at him.

He laughs before complying.

You extricate yourself from his arms, turning off the shower, then navigate carefully around him to exit the cubicle. You grab a towel and cover yourself, making a mental note to grab a clean one later since this one was definitely dirty now.

“Okay, open your eyes and get out, please.”

He turns to look at you.

“Don't think that's a good idea, bub.”

“And why is that?” you huff impatiently.

“What if you collapse in the shower again?” he says matter of factly.

“I've been having these things for a long time. I've managed to survive so far so don't stress about it.”

“It's different now though, isn't it? You've been having these for a long time, you said so yourself, and they're only getting worse instead of better.”

You sigh heavily in frustration. You hated that he was right.

“So what exactly are you suggesting?”

Your heart was beating like crazy. He better not suggest what you think he was going to suggest.

“I'm sure old Chuckie boy wouldn't mind lending you his shower chair for the night,” he smirked.

You laughed out loud despite the tension in the room. He always managed to make you laugh.

“Yeah, I'm just going to wake up an old man in the middle of the night to ask if I can borrow his shower chair,” you joked, lightly slapping him on the shoulder.

He laughed along with you then you both shared a few moments of comfortable silence. Only for him to break it with-

“My other suggestion is to shower with me so I can make sure you don't faint and hurt yourself.”

You stared at him distrustfully.

“Hey, look, I'm not being a pervert, it's just the only solution I can think of on the fly,” he placates, hands raised as if to say I'm innocent and unarmed.

“Right…”

You stopped to think for a second, your muddled mind trying to make sense of the situation.

It made you especially uncomfortable that you didn't exactly have your full mental faculties about you.

But Logan was a good friend. You'd fought beside him many times before and you saw that you could trust him. But… he was still a man. A man much bigger and stronger than you.

“Can I trust you?” you asked falteringly. What a stupid idea to ask the opinion of someone fully in power over you.

“I promise I won't do anything without you wanting it. This is entirely your choice.”

You looked him in the eyes, trying to find a trace of falsehood in them. But you only saw honeyed eyes, dripping with conviction. The same conviction you'd seen many times before when he was protecting those he loved.

You felt yourself feel a little calmer.

“Okay… but you better not break your promise. Or I'll sick Charles and his shower chair on you.”

“I won't. I just want to keep you safe,” he said in a low, serious voice.

You felt a fluttering behind your ribs. Fuck… I'm about to shower with this incredibly attractive asshole.

“Okay… you get in first,” you said.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said a little too cheerily.

You turned around to give him privacy to undress. You heard the rustle of his clothes then a thump as he dropped them on the floor of your bathroom.

Should've known he'd be a slob…

You heard the shower turn on and you braced yourself for what was to come next.

You turned towards the shower, keeping your head down and eyes averted. You removed your towel and stepped into the shower, still not looking at Logan and ignoring his presence, which was hard to do in your little shower. Thankfully he was turned away respectfully.

You stood behind him, turned away from his body. You took your soap and began to lather it over yourself as you usually did when you showered.

“Would you like a hand with your back?” Logan spoke up.

You paused as you weighed up the question in your mind.

“Sure,” you said quietly, trying to keep yourself calm.

This is totally normal. We're just friends having a shower. Together.

You turned your back and heard him applying soap to his hands. Slowly, gently, as if you were made of glass, he began to rub your back, starting with your shoulders. You felt yourself give an involuntary shiver.

“Are you cold? Do you need the water a bit hotter?” he asked you.

“No, it's fine. The temperature is okay with you?”

“Yeah, bub, just perfect.”

His hands felt massive against your back. He massaged your neck for a few seconds before moving down your shoulder blades towards your middle back.

“Did-did you want me to do your back too?” you asked, trying to hide how nervous you were.

“Since you're offering, sure,” he said gruffly. You turned towards him at the same moment he turned away from you, unfortunately catching a glimpse of his insane fucking abs, but thankfully managing not to make eye contact.

You soaped up your hands and began with his neck, trying not to notice how thick and muscular his traps were.

God… this is hell but also heaven.

You ran your hands across his ridiculously broad shoulders and down his middle back, avoiding going too low lest you caress his stupid, tight ass.

“I'm going to wash my hair, okay?” you told him, unsure of why you were asking permission.

“Don't know why you're asking my permission.” Fuck. You were being weird. “But I can do the same right?” he responded, holding in laughter.

You felt your face go hot.

“D-do what you want,” you said petulantly.

You took the shampoo bottle, squeezing what you needed for yourself before handing it to him over his shoulder, which he thankfully kept turned to you in respect.

You both washed your hair in silence. You already felt a bit better. You dreamily thought of your bed as you rinsed the shampoo from your hair.

You then grabbed the conditioner and squeezed some into your hand.

“Need the conditioner?” you asked Logan.

“What for?” he asked, confused.

“For your hair, duh.”

“Nah, I'm good. Haven't had to use it so far in my life, won't start now. Need a hand with washing your hair?”

You knew he was trying to be helpful. But it felt so, so wrong. Like overstepping your relationship as friends. But then again… would you ever get the chance again to have an incredibly sexy man wash your hair for you?

“Sure,” you said stiffly.

Silence, then his hand moved around you to grab the bottle from you.

“Ah-” you already had some conditioner in your hand. You were about to tell him but decided to keep quiet as he worked on your hair.

His fingers… so thick and strong yet gentle through your hair, over your scalp. You couldn't help but to close your eyes and enjoy the sensation.

It was over too soon and he stepped away from you again. You tipped your head to rinse your hair, giving your face a quick scrub with water while you were at it; fuck your skin routine, you were going straight to bed.

“I'm going to step out first,” you informed him.

He grunted in reply and you stepped from the shower, grabbing two clean towels from your bathroom cupboard. You covered yourself with one and half turned your body to Logan, gaze still averted from his direction.

“Here ya go,” you tried to say cheerily, offering the towel to him.

“Thanks,” he said and grabbed it from your hand. You quickly moved to the door.

“Wait until I say you can come in,” you said before closing the door behind you.

Fuuuuucccckkkkk.

This was not helping you to relax at all.

You dried yourself quickly and threw your pyjamas on.

“I'm done!” you called through the door.

He stepped out with his towel wrapped around his stupid, slutty waist. You could see his happy trail adorning his abs. His enormous pecs, his dog tags resting in the dip of his gorgeous chest.

“Hey, bub, my eyes are up here,” he teases.

You swallow thickly and glare at his stupid, smirking face.

“Have I ever told you I hate you?” you retort, only succeeding in making him laugh.

“How are you feeling now?” he says softly, suddenly serious.

“I'm… exhausted. I usually sleep a lot after an episode.”

He nods in understanding.

“You'll be okay if I leave?”

This gives you pause. If you were being honest to yourself, you'd say, “Please stay. I don't want to be alone tonight.”

But you weren't honest with yourself.

“Thanks for looking out for me, Logan. I really appreciate it and sorry for putting you out. I'll be okay. You can go to bed now if you want.”

He looked at you in silence. He stepped towards you, so close that you had to look up to keep eye contact. You could feel the warmth radiating from him. Fuck he runs hot.

“You mean it, right? You're okay to be alone?”

You stared at him, a little bit dumbfounded. Was he able to read minds or something?

“Yes, I'll be fine. I'll be in bed so I can't exactly fall,” you chuckled.

He didn't laugh with you. Only watched you carefully.

“Okay. I'll respect what you say you want,” he says carefully.

Again, this is so out of character for him that you second guess yourself whether you're in reality or not.

You watch as he turns to the bathroom and grabs his clothes from the floor then goes towards the door to the hall.

“Hey-w-wait-y-you're not going out like that are you?” you stutter in disbelief.

He turns back to you.

“What else am I going to do?” he asks incredulously.

Clueless.

“Put your clothes back on,” you retort.

“Ew, you're a bit of a slob, aren't you? They're dirty and covered with blood and who knows what or who else.”

You deadpanned.

“What if… what if you stayed here for the night?” you blurted out without thinking. You flinch at your own words.

Logan pauses with his hand on the door knob.

“I don't exactly have my pyjamas here with me,” he says slowly.

“I've already seen and touched you naked. What's the difference?” you hear yourself say.

What the fuck am I saying?

“I-I mean, surely I have something that can fit you,” you amend quickly. His face seems to go slack in surprise.

“Wow. You really want it, huh?” he smirks at you.

You ignore the heat that overtakes your whole body.

“N-never mind! Fuck off already,” you say sourly.

“Hey, I'm just joking,” he laughs. “I can definitely stay if it helps you feel better.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself melt a little bit.

“It… it would. Help me feel better, I mean.”

Having him near you would help remind you that this is real, you justify.

“Alright then,” he nods to you. “Some clothes would be great.”

“Ah, sure, give me a second.”

You quickly go to your wardrobe to locate the loosest pair of pants you own. He'll just have to sleep shirtless, there's no way you have a top that will fit over his broad shoulders.

You find a dark grey pair of trackies and turn back to him.

“Try these.”

“Thanks,” he says as he takes it from your hand.

As he moves back to the bathroom you jump into bed to wait. Your bed never felt so fucking good.

You've barely settled under the covers when Logan reappears from the bathroom, his hair still wet and dripping down his neck. You do your best not to stare.

He moves towards you and lifts the covers to slip into bed with you.

This is just a sleepover, you tell yourself. Like when you have a friend over for the night.

Logan slots himself into your bed alongside you and you become suddenly aware of how small your double bed is. The frame creaks loudly from the weight of him and his Adamantium bones.

“Comfy?” you ask.

He turns in the bed so he's facing you. A smile slowly makes its way to his face and you find you can't breathe for a second.

“Yeah, definitely,” he murmurs.

“Alright, sweet, g’night then,” you say quickly, turning away from him to still your beating heart. Fuck, I hope he can't hear my heart right now.

“Are you sure you're ready to sleep? Your heart is beating pretty fast,” he points out cooly.

Mother fucker.

“So… you have heightened senses right? Kind of.. like a dog?” I'm not thinking straight, why am I trying to piss him off?

“Thought you were going to sleep,” he grunted. The sound of his gravelly voice did something to you. But you ignored it.

“It just kind of reminds me of those service dogs, y'know the ones that can sense when their owner is going to have a seizure? I mean, I know I don't have seizures exactly, but I guess it presents sort of like one.”

“What are you trying to say?” he asks gruffly. He doesn't like it when people compare him to dogs. You're just grateful you can't see the look on his face right now.

“I'm just wondering how you can tell? What is it exactly that you're sensing? It's always interested me,” you say honestly.

He grunts again and goes quiet before answering.

“I can smell it. Can't even explain what it actually smells like. But that's how I know, although it isn't always accurate.”

“That's really interesting.” And you mean it. It really is interesting… although the implications concerning his sense of smell have you a little bit paranoid…

“So that's why I'm telling you to listen to me when I fucking tell you to stop with your powers. You could've killed yourself tonight,” he grinds out, anger in his voice.

“Logan… you need to understand where I'm coming from. You all died tonight. Like literally, right before my very eyes, you were all dead. What do you expect me to do?”

You feel tears pricking your eyes, the lump in your throat is choking you.

“I… I can't talk about this right now okay?” you tell him, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Okay… okay, I'm sorry,” his voice softens. “Please, just get some sleep, okay? Guide dog’s orders.”

And just like that you're laughing again, feeling a tear running down your cheek to your pillow. You were so grateful to have him in your life. You were also grateful he couldn't see you crying right now.

“Alright, g'night, puppy,” you tease.

“‘Night,” he says softly.

A minute passes and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. You smile to yourself, knowing that you have your own personal “service animal” to keep you safe tonight.

#logan howlett #logan howlett imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine #Logan being cute and worried and caring uwu #I saw dp and wolverine and fell in love dont know why it took me seeing his hairy 55 year old abs for this to happen #I never crushed on this man during xmen but idk he fucking got to me in that movie ok #i stan a guilt ridden man with low self esteem put your penis inside me right now #ass writes stuff

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httpdwaekki · 10 months ago

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migraine | b.c.

summary: you were known to have pretty intense migraines but chan is there to help you feel better.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: no warnings, just pure fluff, tad bit of hurt/ comfort, sweet channie as always, and in true ashton fashion far too many petnames lmao. very lightly proofread (p.s. i am in my wolfchan lover arc, need him immediately.)

a/n: omg ashton got lost in the sauce again? * gasp* shocker! yeah this took me way too long to write but whatever. i actually don't hate this which is crazy but this is self indulgent because i get some pretty intense, nasty migraines that can last a couple days and it sucks. but if you suffer from the same thing i hope this can bring you some comfort and also i recommend a gel cap that you put in the freezer. an actual game changer, trust. anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

*lowercase intended*

my library

(pictures are not mine! credit to owners!)

you had some pretty nasty migraines, no secret to you or chan. they last anywhere from a few hours to a few days and while there were things to help lessen the pain and pressure, sometimes you just had to ride it out.

this was unfortunately one of those times. now usually you would call chan as soon as you felt the first telltale sign of a migraine . this time however, you didn’t, you knew he was busy with work and didn’t want to interfere with that. but you were selfishly starting to regret that decision as everything you were doing did nothing to help.

it seemed like everything did nothing but increase the pressure in your head, spreading to your face. in a last ditch effort to get some sleep you put on some migraine music, pressed a cold compress to your eyes and pulled wolfchan to your chest.

the soft plushie smelled faintly of chan’s cologne, the only thing actually helping you relax. but it also made you miss the aussie man, wishing he was by your side, rubbing your temples, softly lulling you to sleep.

you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt a warm tear drip down to your neck. you knew you had to calm down or you risk making everything worse but you couldn’t. you were overwhelmed by the pressure in your head and frustrated with nothing helping to release it.

you felt selfish and guilty but you knew you needed chan, you felt like you were going insane without him. hesitantly you moved the compress from your eyes, grabbing your phone.

despite the brightness being on the lowest possible setting, you felt a sharp pain behind your eye as the screen turned on. you unlocked your phone, clicking chan’s contact, you quickly typed out a message.

to channie <3 :

hi, i’m so sorry to ask but i really don’t know what else to do, i have a migraine and nothing's helping. i know you're working but is there anyway when you finish up at the studio you could come over? even for a little bit, if not i totally get it, just thought i’d ask, love you bug.

you hit send, locking your phone, placing it on the soft sheets, placing the compress back over your eyes. a few minutes passed before you felt your phone buzz beside you. you move the cold compress once more, bracing yourself for the light from your phone.

from channie <3:

can you call me jagi? i don’t want you to keep looking at your phone screen, love you too sweet girl.

you click his contact once more, hitting the little phone icon next to his name causing the calming music to stop, a loud ringing replacing it. this caused you to wince and quickly lower the volume before putting it on speaker so you could place the cooling pack back over your eyes.

it didn’t take long before he picked up. “hi my baby, what’s going on?” he asked softly.

“my head hurts,” you started, words slightly slurred. “it’s really bad channie.” you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “i’ve tried everything and nothing’s working, i don’t know what to do.” you softly cried, tears making their way down your cheeks once more.

“okay angel okay, take a deep breath, i need you to relax for me okay? i know it hurts but it’s gonna hurt worse if you’re upset.” you hear rustling in the background.

“i’m just finishing up a few things here and then i’m gonna head over, okay sweetheart?” you respond with a soft whimper, followed by a quiet, “okay.” you press the pack further into your eyes, chasing the coolness that is quickly leaving the gel filled pack.

“do you want me to stay on the phone with you till i get there?” he asks softly, packing his bag.

“yes, please.” you mumbled. “okay baby, just keep breathing and focus on me, okay? i’m gonna pick up some food on the way too, okay?” you hummed in response, rolling over, pushing the soft plushie to your cheek, breathing in the familiar scent.

“everything okay?” you hear changbin ask in the background. “yeah, y/n has a migraine, so i’m going to help her.” chan responds.

“oh no, i hope she feels better, let us know if you guys need anything.” you hear han chime in, your heart swelling at the boys concern.

“will do, thank you, i’ll see you guys later.” you hear him open the studio door making his way into the hallway.

“you still with me, jagi?” he asks softly. “yeah, i’m here.” face squished into the soft fabric. “alright sweetheart, i’m gonna mute for a bit just until i get to my car, okay?” he asks, the elevator dings in the background, signaling its arrival.

“okay.” you say sleepily. “i love you baby, i’ll be right back.” you hear him press a button in the elevator. “love you too bub.” your words slurring slightly.

after chan muted, you felt yourself slowly succumb to the exhaustion, phone positioned next to you on the sheets, wolfchan tucked safely against your cheek, you, curled up in a soft blanket .

that is exactly how chan found you about 25 minutes later as he walked in your room, the space dimly lit by the oil diffuser sitting on your bedside table. he left the take-out bags sitting on your kitchen counter, fresh compress and cold water in hand. he gently places the water on your desk, making his way over to you.

he grabs your phone, ending the call before turning off the relaxing music. he sits next to your sleeping form, gently taking the warm pack off your face. he places a kiss on your forehead before placing the fresh compress on your eyes.

you tense for a moment, before relaxing as the cold begins to relieve the tension once more. you stir awake from the sudden change in temperature. “channie?” you asked, sleep laced in your voice.

he places a hand on your hips, his thumb rubbing soothing circles to the area. “hi, my baby,” he whispers. “how are you feeling hm?” he asks, continuing the soothing motion. you move the cool pack, grabbing his free hand, in this lap, threading your fingers together before placing a kiss on the back of his.

“better now that you’re here.” you murmured, giving him a small smile. he smiled back before leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“i got you some ramen, i’m gonna go grab it for you okay?” you nodded, him standing, still keeping your hand in his. he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before placing the compress back over your eyes, grabbing the warm one to put back in the freezer .

he gives your hand a light squeeze before walking away. you relax into the soft mattress below you while chan goes to grab the hot soup and some medicine just in case.

he walks in with the tray, setting it on your desk next to the cold water collecting condensation on the wood below it. he makes his way over to you, sitting next to you once again, gently lifting the pack off your eyes. “there she is,” he placed a hand on your cheek, setting the compress next to you.

“hi baby.” he smiled, softly stroking your cheek. you give him a small smile back before turning your head slightly to place a kiss to his palm. “can you sit up for me please?” you nod softly before slowly moving to lean against the wall behind you.

“careful jagi.” he whispered, quickly placing a hand behind your head. “thank you, bug.” you mumble, adjusting the pillows behind you, placing wolfchan in your lap . chan stands up once more, placing the water on the tray before bringing it over to you.

“thank you, chan, you really didn’t have to do all this.” you say, guilt creeping up on you once again. he shakes his head. “nope, none of that. i’m your boyfriend, this is my job.” he places the tray on your lap, taking his place next to you once again.

“plus, i love taking care of you. if you need me, i’m there. any time, any place, simple as that.” your heart swells, you feel a lump form in the back of your throat. “you can’t say stuff like that when i’m like this, i’ll cry.” you play with the plushie’s ears before feeling a finger lift your chin.

“i love you, and i’ll always be here for you, no matter where either of us are, okay?” he said, looking into your eyes, with nothing but love and sincerity. you nod, “i love you too.” he smilled, carefully leaning over to place a kiss on your forehead.

“now, you need to eat, i got your favorite.” he says, picking up the hot soup, opening the lid, before separating the chopsticks. he dips the wooden sticks in the soup, giving it a stir before grabbing some of the noodles.

he gently blows on the steaming noodles before offering it to you, container under it to catch any dripping soup. you giggle, “you know i can feed myself right?” he frowns, pushing the noodles and container closer to you. “eat.”

you smile before opening your mouth, accepting the food he so generously offered you. a smile made it’s way onto his face, feeding you a few more bites. he placed the container back down, chopsticks resting in the soup, before grabbing the medicine and water.

“take these.” he placed them in your hand, opening the water as you dropped the pills in your mouth. he hands you the water, watching as you greedly gulp down the cool beverage. “ how are you feeling, angel?” he asks gently.

“it still hurts but i think eating and drinking definitely helped.” you smiled, handing him the bottle. “ good, i’m glad. eat a few more bites then we’ll lay down, okay?” he says, picking up the soup once more.

you end up finishing the ramen before he grabs the tray and the now warm compress. “do you want a cold one?” he asks holding up the pack.

“yes please.” you nod slightly. “okay, get comfy, i’ll be right back jagi.” you smile laying back down as he leaves the room.

he comes back, shortly after, with a fresh compress and another bottle of water. he places the water next to your diffuser, placing the compress over your eyes. he circles the bed, climbing under the covers.

he lays down, pulling you into him, placing your head on his chest. you place your arm around his wait, hand slipping under his shirt, rubbing your thumb across his soft skin.

he brings his hand up, rubbing soft circles on your temples, placing kiss on the top of your head. “sleep jagi, we can shower when you wake up okay?’ you nod slightly against him.

“thank you, channie. i love you, more than you know.” you mumble, tightening your arms around him. “i love you too baby, i’ll always take care of you, okay?” placing one last kiss to your hair.

that’s how you stayed for the rest of the night, wrapped up in each other’s arms. the pressure in your head, slowly releasing, finally able to relax.

reblogs/feedback are appreciated! i hope you guys enjoyed!

do no repost

#bang chan #bang chan imagine #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan fic #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids drabble #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #ash's archive ‧₊˚✩彡

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scoutswritingcorner · 8 months ago

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Headcanons

Father!Alastor & Child!GN!Reader

PURELY PLATONIC

TW:NONE!

A/N: I just have ideas for Papa Alastor and his little fawn gremlin child. To that Anon who came up with it! If you have any input don’t be afraid to reblog or shoot me an ask with your own (even if my askbox is closed just let me know it’s you). I was listening to ‘No More Birthdays by Sophie May’.

Domestic fluff with Papa Alastor and his little fawn.

Second Part

So- I don’t know if sinners “age” or grow up in hell but let’s say for the sake of this little post that they do but it's really really slow or you're just a little child forever..WHO KNOWS.

Anyways…you’re like a carbon copy of Alastor only smaller and maybe brighter colors (Where as he has dark red hair you have maybe lighter red hair or a different light color) and little white spots in your hair or fur, maybe some freckles too.

You are the only soul that is allowed to touch his cane without his permission or guidance, especially because he knows you like to wander off at times, not too far but when you both are walking down the street and he’s not feeling into physical contact he holds his cane out to you and that’s your cue to hold on. If he’s fine with physical contact? He’ll be holding your tiny hand into his, it’s something he got used to doing when he walked you to school those early mornings before he had to go to his radio station.

When he introduces you to Niffty and Husk? He’s not worried about Niffty, but he is glaring Husk down as you walk around the ex-overlord. You’re just curious. But once you get used to him you walk back over to your Papa and hold onto his cane, that’s his signal that you’re ready to go.

I’m a firm believer that sinners still feel the pain of whatever killed them in life when they get into hell as a reminder of why they are there. So speaking of that, Alastor gets hella bad migraines which he got used to easily but when he hears you coughing? He’s immediately by your side and holding a handkerchief to your mouth. He pulls you closer to him if it’s one of those bad coughs that make you wheeze really bad, he’s just a scared Papa and doesn’t know modern medicine well enough to get you the right treatment.

He dresses you in the fashion he’s used to, which is either a button down shirt with slacks or a dress. You’d wear a small little bowtie either around your neck or in your hair.

Now when he arrives at the Hotel with you? You’re automatically being held because he knows you as his child and how curious you are but also he’s a paranoid deer dad. But after a while? He’s letting you down and gently patting your back to let you wander around, just please stay in his line of sight for now. He walks around the hotel with you so you can see all the sights as Charlie and Vaggie are with him explaining everything.

Speaking of Charlie and Vaggie, they both terrified you and it almost sent Alastor into a frenzy. He doesn’t care if Vaggie points a spear at him but not at his little fawn. Charlie was just loud and that frightened you.

Angel Dust wasn’t allowed around you for a while, but once he was, he was very sober and didn’t utter a word about anything your ears shouldn’t know lest he faces the wrath of your Papa. He also gets you treats and gives you head pats.

You do have your own room next to Alastor’s and he makes sure it looks like it did when you were alive, filled with your favorite toys and books lining the shelves. He got Rosie to make you a new teddy bear that resembled him once more and you absolutely adore that thing.

You and Niffty are gremlins together but she keeps her eye on you the whole time and makes sure you don’t get hurt or in trouble. She’s also very helpful when you start having a coughing fit but if it gets really bad? She gets Charlie or Husk to help.

Alastor pulls Charlie aside one day whilst you are playing, “Charlie, you know I don’t believe in this silly little redemption thing as a whole but..if this does end up working, I want my little fawn to be up there. They don’t deserve to be down here with these disgusting and vile creatures. That’s all I care about.” He whispered glancing back at you as Charlie followed his gaze before smiling and nodding, “Of course, Alastor. How did..” She stopped herself as Alastor stood up tall. “They were sick ever since they were just a little baby..” He whispered out before clearing his throat and cleaning his monocle. He was done talking..reminiscing on his past mistakes.

When Mimzy comes around? He doesn’t let her near you, he knows what trouble she brings and he won’t stand for it if she dares harm a hair on your head. It’s not that he doesn’t trust her, it’s just he’d rather not feel the heartbreak he did all those years ago when he first lost you.

Some nights when you're fast asleep he holds you in his arms and sits on the floor. It grounds him when he feels you breathing, especially when memories of that night plague him and he can’t seem to catch a break. Even if he’s at his breaking point with physical affection, he will force himself to hold you just because those thoughts are plaguing him and he has to make sure you're breathing. His hands will rub circles on your back and he’ll let himself cry but it will be drowned out by soft jazz playing just in case someone walks by your bedroom door.

He also finds it soothing when he brushes and does your hair, even if you don’t have long hair he’ll brush it out for you in the mornings while he enjoys his coffee. He’s very careful around your tiny deer ears too. If you have trouble tying your bowtie or bow? Don’t worry, He is getting down on one knee and tying it for you while talking you through the steps.

100% you are his little sous chef/ taste tester. His love for spicy food is passed down to you and if it’s not spicy enough for you it’s definitely not spicy for him. While he himself doesn’t like to indulge in sweets, he’ll learn to make your favorite treat and surprise you with it.

Omg when Lucifer comes to the hotel? Alastor gets protective because now the King of Hell is talking to you and not him but he’s not being mean about it…kinda. He’ll make an off joke about Alastor and you’ll stomp your hoof and puff your chest out and headbutting Lucifer. It’s even better if you have little nubs where your antlers (if you have them) are growing in. That’s what the King of Hell gets for bad talking your Papa in front of you! It doesn’t hurt Lucifer but he gets the gist (he doesn’t)

A/N: Once again if anyone has any headcannons of their own go wild. These are just I thought of!

Taglist: @littledolly2345, @aboyscriminalrecord (figured since you drew those masterpieces, I'd tag you in some more little headcanons)

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #platonic #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor

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pampushky · 3 months ago

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ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

next part | masterlist | series masterlist

Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet.

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication.

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again.

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack.

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps.

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him.

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands.

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer.

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup.

“It’s time to go, Logan,”

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American.

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming.

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant.

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves.

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.”

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond.

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed.

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him.

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues.

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve.

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over.

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself.

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking.

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together.

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack.

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning.

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips.

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different.

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges.

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando.

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face.

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted.

So you at least had morals.

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.”

“I’m actually quite good, normally.”

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?”

“Hilarious.”

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver.

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid.

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you.

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush.

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin.

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you.

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.”

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again.

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,”

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking.

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.”

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know.

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails.

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are.

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear.

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced.

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns.

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board.

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing.

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.”

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue.

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food.

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.”

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone.

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are.

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed.

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer.

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again.

“Then we’re fixing it.”

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks.

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?”

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated.

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else.

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm.

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth.

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him.

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.”

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader

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sky-scribbles · 6 months ago

Text

There are a lot of things to love about the SSV Normandy. It’s a symbol of cooperation between two species historically at odds. It’s a miracle of engineering, a technological masterpiece that could alter every pattern of space warfare. Its crew is the highest calibre that the Alliance has to offer, bolstered by multispecies allies: an emblem of flying hope.

It also has far, far too many flashing lights. Everywhere.

One hand pressed to the wall to keep himself steady, the other pressed against his forehead as if that’s going to do any good, Kaidan shuffles down the hall toward the med bay. Every light panel and display interface feels like a laser drill boring directly through his eyes, sounds reverberate against the inside of his skull, and his sense of balance is a distant, pleasant memory. Kaidan sucks in a tight breath between his teeth. It’s going to be okay. He can do this. He’s done it before.

He drags himself the last few feet, and the med bay doors slide open. Kaidan opens up his omni-tool – god, why are those so bright, too? – and does what he’s done a hundred times, scanning the medical interface so that the med system logs him. Doctor Chakwas isn’t here, which means she’s on her rest shift, but that’s fine. The med system will alert her if there’s a problem.

Kaidan, turns, so ready to collapse into the nearest med bed – except he can’t. Because there’s someone already in it.

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey, Tali.’

‘Hey, Lieutenant.’ She still seems shy about using his first name. Maybe it’s a habit from being raised on board ships, or maybe she’s just not sure if she’s allowed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I will be once the pain meds kick in.’ Kaidan makes it to the next bed along and finally, finally lies down and shuts his eyes. ‘Doctor Chakwas is just… pretty strict about me coming here whenever a migraine kicks in. Just in case it’s a sign of something going wrong with my implant.’

Through the fog of everything hurts, it finally surfaces in his brain that Tali in the med bay is… that’s bad, right? ‘What about you? Are you, you know –?’

Okay, he’s not sure how to finish that sentence. There’s probably not a polite way to say hey, are you here because you’ve picked up a fatal illness?

He cracks one eye open, just enough to see her looking glumly at him. He’s not sure how he can tell that she’s glum when all he can see is her eyes, but yeah. She’s glum. ‘You know how I took a hit on Feros?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And how I disinfected it, and used my patch kit on the suit breach, and told Shepard I was fine?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I was not fine.’ She slumps down miserably. ‘My throat is full of painful slime, my sinuses are on fire, and my halesh –’ Okay, that’s obviously some piece of quarian anatomy – ‘is more gummed up than I can describe.’

Kaidan shuts his eyes again. ‘Well, my skull feels like it’s slowly contracting and crushing my brain, so… I sort of feel you.’

She laughs weakly. ‘I should have run an extra med scan once I got back to the Normandy. I just – I wanted to help with the engine maintenance today. And there’s this combat drone design I’m working on. And now…’ There’s a sound of movement; Kaidan gets the impression that she’s gesturing at the med bay in angry helplessness.

‘I feel that too.’ And he does. He really does. This isn’t the worst migraine he’s ever had – he can actually hold a conversation, which some days would be beyond him. But it’s… it’s not great. And he had things to do. Ash was running a drill and wanted him to look over her plans. He had a cleaning shift at fourteen hours. Shepard wanted to talk strategy for Noveria. And yes, he knows he has a right to take time off for a medical issue. He knows he’s no use to Ash or Shepard or anyone when he can’t even walk in a straight line. But knowing that doesn’t quite get rid of the squirm in his belly, the one that feels like letting people down.

Tali’s quiet for a minute, aside from the ever-present, barely-audible hum of her suit systems, and the occasional sniff from behind her helmet. Then she says, unexpectedly, ‘I’m just… I’m so tired. You know what I mean?’

Kaidan’s head throbs. He swallows. ‘Oh, yeah.’

The constant vigilance. Always having to be careful about where he goes – is this room too bright? Is this one too loud? – in case something triggers another bad spell. Taking hits to the head in a fight that anyone else could just shrug off, but that for him mean another trip to the med bay to make sure his implant isn’t damaged. Trying to do his job and suddenly finding, no, he can’t, because his body has decided that today’s the day he just doesn’t get to function.

Tali… she must go through the same awful deal, just in a different flavour. Always being careful, so careful. Someone else’s minor injury being her okay, let’s get a med check to make sure I won’t die. It’s not the same, of course: Kaidan can eat food without filtering it, touch people without protective layers, see people’s faces without a tinted mask. Still… there’s a tone in her voice that he knows from his own.

There’s a heavy silence. Then Tali says, ‘You know what’s really stupid? I left my datapad in my cabin, so I can’t even watch vids.’

Kaidan smiles. He’s seen her down in Engineering, a few times, hands flying around over the machinery, rocking back and forth on her heels. Idleness obviously doesn’t suit her. ‘You can borrow mine, if you like.’

‘Really?’ Her voice is already brighter. ‘I mean – won’t the noise will make you feel worse?’

‘Nah, I’ll be good.’ He’s not just saying it; there’s a blissful numbness creeping through his head which means that his meds are finally getting to work. He fishes the datapad from his pocket, taps in his passcode, and hands it over. ‘What kind of vids do you like?’

Her whole being perks up – tone, body, everything. ‘Oh, all of them.Any genre, any species. I mean… asari vids can be a bit long. I mean, they’re made by people who can spend a decade making a vid and a whole day watching it. Turians… their vids can be a bit depressing. There’s a lot of ‘this war ended with almost everyone dead, but one turian is still standing, so it’s a victory!”

‘What about quarians? What kinds of stories do your people tell?’

A small laugh echoes inside the helmet. ‘Quarian vids are pretty limited by environment. We don’t have a lot of varied sets to work with. So we tell the best long-running dramas. There’s one ship in the Flotilla that’s been hosting the same series for over eighty standard years now. Following the crew as they change over time, that sort of thing.’ She taps the base of her helmet. ‘It’s pretty good, but… I think if you watched it, you’d think there were a lot more explosions, murders and shipwide romantic entanglements in the Flotilla than there actually are.’

‘Human dramas are like that too.’

Tali laughs. ‘Quarian dramas make human dramas look relaxed.’

Kaidan finds he’s actually able to grin. ‘So what do human vids tell you about us?’

Her helmet tilts as she considers. ‘That you’re very individualistic. I mean, not every human culture. But you put a lot of focus onto characters and personal journeys.’ She scrolls down the datapad screen – looking through vid lists, presumably – then stops. It’s hard to tell, but Kaidan thinks she might be frowning. ‘I did notice… in a lot of human media, the biotics are…’

Another insistent pulse of pain through his temples. Kaidan sighs. ‘Crazy extremists?’

‘Yes. Do you… do you mind if I ask why that is?’

‘No, it’s fine.’ Kaidan turns onto his back and stares up at the dim ceiling. ‘A lot of the early generation of biotics, the ones who got the same implants as me… let’s just say I got off lightly. Most ended up with much more serious medical conditions. And when people found out about the side effects of the L2 implants, the media got the bit between its teeth and –’ Yeah, no, that wasn’t going to translate. ‘Sorry. Human saying. They got a certain impression, and they ran with it.’

Tali’s quiet for several seconds. Kaidan twists his head to face her, and sees the pale eyes behind the mask giving him a long, steady look.

‘I’m sorry,’ she says. And then, after a moment, ‘They tell lies about us, too.’

Kaidan holds her gaze, and feels terribly, achingly sad. ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I bet they do.’

The way people look at Tali as she walks through the Presidium… it’s familiar. Not quite the same. There’s a note of scorn in the looks they give to Tali – but there’s suspicion, too, and that’s something he knows. All the times back on Earth, after he got back from Jump Zero, when he shook someone’s hand or opened a door, and their eyes found the implants. They way they stared at him like he was a loaded gun. All the documents he had to fill out to do anything, the knowledge that any government he lived under would always be hovering a few steps away, keeping tabs, making sure.

Remembering Rahna – remembering that obvious, instinctive fear in her eyes – is an old memory now, the kind that’s a faded scar. But he remembers the shock of it, back when he was seventeen. When no one had looked at him like that before, and it was dizzying and new and felt like a hole in his gut.

He bets Tali has that hole in her gut all the time.

Kaidan pushes himself up a little – which makes his brain spin, but he manages it – and gives Tali a smile. ‘Well. Let’s look for something that gets us both right.’

‘Definitely.’ She flicks through the options for a minute more, then pauses. ‘Have you ever seen Fleet and Flotilla?’

‘I think I’ve heard of it.’ There’s a faint memory of seeing an ad for it, maybe, and thinking it was the kind of thing he’d have loved as a kid. Space exploration. Justice. Love. ‘The… war romance, right?’

‘Yes!’ Tali’s legs bounce. ‘It’s – keelah, it’s so good, it’s – it’s about this girl, Shalei, who’s on her pilgrimage. And she’s interested in the geth, because she’s got this dream of finding a way to defeat them and take back the Homeworld, right? And when she finds something, she goes to the Citadel for help, but no one will listen except this one turian called Bellicus –’

‘Hold up. Wasn’t that… exactly what you were doing when we met you? Minus the turian, I mean.’

Tali ducks her head, suddenly shy. ‘I… I really, really like the vid.’

No kidding. Kaidan smiles. ‘So let’s watch it.’

His head still feels like a bombsite, and when he thinks about all the things he wants to be doing for his crew and isn’t, the rest of him hurts too. But maybe he’s still doing something for his crew, sitting in the med bay with his sick squadmate – his sick friend – and sharing her favourite vid with her. Maybe he’s doing something for him, too. He doesn’t do that too often.

Tali props the datapad up on the table between their beds, her whole body one big smile. ‘You’re going to love this,’ she promises, and presses play.

#sometimes your disability gives you a day tm so you write 1900 words about ME1's disability duo #i love their friendship. beloved nerds.#(if you're wondering 'did i see this two hours ago?' I accidentally posted it while I was still editing.#and I deleted it until I was ready to post because I'm a perfectionist)#mass effect #mass effect fic #kaidan alenko #tali'zorah #sky's writing

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bucksangel · 4 months ago

Note

Okay but imagine bunny has just been feeling so ill :((( and she’s so so sorry Bucky has to take care of her like this :( but she still tries to make him meals and keep up with her chores and be good for him :( even though he’s adamant that she not lift a finger until she’s better

Maybe he comes home one day and she’s crying and she’s apologizing because she knows he’s so stressed already with work and she’s just so so sorry for adding to that :(

And he’s just like “what are you talking about? why are you sorry”

And then she just hands him a positive pregnancy test and keeps apologizing for giving him one more thing to worry about

But he’s just immediately thrilled and is already thinking about how to decorate the nursery and he can’t wait to fuck the tears away while calling her his little mama

Anyway… I’ll see myself out… splendid writing as always my dear!!! <3

I’m literally laying on my stomach with my legs in the air and i’m kicking them and giggling, you’re so kind. And i looooove this idea so here’s a lil drabble :) (also you are always welcome to come back😭😭)

Title: An Odd Flu

pairing: sofdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: 18+ so minors dni, mentions of vomiting and being sick, so much fluff, minor angst, hints of abortion though it’s not said outright (only 2-3 sentences), soft love-making, sir kink, petnames (bunny, mama (but not in a mommy kink way)), fingering, dom!bucky, sub!reader, aftercare

main masterlist | run little bunny masterlist

Originally, you thought it was an odd case of the flu. You weren’t running a fever and you weren’t feeling overheated or freezing cold, but you were so tired all the time that you’d have to take a midday nap in order to stay awake long enough to have dinner with James. Then it was the vomiting, you’d wake up around seven in the morning and rush to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach.

What made things better was that James had been there for you, waiting on you hand and foot whenever he was home. He’d draw you baths and massage your back to relieve your sore muscles. He’d make you soup and tea, going so far as to feed you by hand. He would even cancel meetings if you were feeling especially awful.

But that’s where the problem lies. Leading up to your flu James had been stressed. There was meeting after meeting, paperwork the height of the Empire State Building, and calls coming in after the previous one ended. You already felt physically bad, but the fact that he’s become stretched even thinner has you feeling bad emotionally.

This morning in particular has been the worst of the last three weeks. You gagged when you went downstairs and smelt the eggs James was cooking and had to rush to the bathroom. Your headache felt more like a migraine and all you really want to do is curl up next to James in bed and have him rub your back.

But that’s not possible today. James had a meeting that he had been trying to organize for the past month and it was with people outside of the U.S., so there was no way he could miss it. He still offered to stay home anyway and let his right-hand man, Steve, take over, but you nearly cried when he suggested it. You didn’t want to mess anything up just because you were sick. So, at your insistence, he left with a kiss on your forehead and made you promise to call him if anything got worse.

The only stipulation was that you had to see a doctor while he was gone. His personal doctor, because of course he’s rich enough to have a personal doctor, agreed to come over and check you out.

It was when she got there that things started to feel… off. She noted your symptoms with a glint in her eye that told you she immediately knew what was going on. When she put away her tools, she reached into a different pocket in her bag, giving it to you with a small, knowing smile.

It was a pregnancy test. And suddenly you’re questioning everything. The morning sickness, the aversion to foods you once craved, the crying spells.

Then, you remember your period was supposed to start two days ago. When it didn’t come you just assumed it was because you were ill. Now, though, things are making sense.

That doesn’t stop the insecurities from creeping in. James has been so busy with work lately and this is just one more stressor to add to that. And on top of that, you haven’t been able to do as much cleaning or cooking as you normally do, as much as you want to do. James has been insistent that you not overexert yourself by doing your daily tasks, but you feel so bad that he has to come home from a long day of work to the house being a mess.

When you go to the bathroom, your hands are shaking as you hold the test in the proper position. You’ve always wanted kids, and you can’t imagine having babies with anyone else except James. He always takes care of you, is always lovely and patient even when he’s exhausted and snapping at everyone else, he’s the perfect man and would make a perfect father.

Your hands continue to shake as you wash them, and your whole body vibrates with nerves as you walk back out into the living room to see Doctor Romanoff packing the rest of her things. Her eyes are sympathetic when she senses your anxiety, and she carefully takes the test from you.

The five-minute wait is agonizing, you’re unable to sit still so you’ve been pacing back and forth around the living room awaiting the results. And when the timer goes off, your whole body goes rigid. Your back is to Doctor Romanoff when you hear her hum thoughtfully.

You know what that sound means.

It takes all your effort to turn around, but when you do you find her arm outstretched, offering you the test.

“I’m not sure if it’s the answer you want, but I’m here for whatever you need.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to take the test from her. And, with a big breath, you look down to see the little pink plus sign staring back at you, and tears immediately fill your eyes. You know that James wants kids, he’s very bad at dropping hints when you go to the store and pass by the baby aisle. But, he’s overworked right now, constantly answering calls and responding to emails, and you’re doubting if now is the right time to have a baby.

“Um, th-thank you,” You say weakly, looking up at her with a wavering smile. She nods, and you lead her to the front door and wave her goodbye.

The tears start falling when the door closes behind her, and you quickly rush to your room. You’re staring at the test through your clouded vision, worrying yourself over how to tell him. You know you need to, you want to. So, once you’ve calmed down you pull out your laptop and search for different ideas.

“Bunny, I’m home!” James sounds tired, exhausted really, though you hope the smell of chicken and vegetables will help him wake up a little.

“I’m in the kitchen!” Your hands are shaking so badly when you take the pan out of the oven, and you have to hurry to place it on the counter before you drop it. Suddenly, James’ arms wrap around your waist, pressing his chest to your back and tucking his face into your neck to breathe in your perfume.

“What did I say about overexerting yourself?” His voice is soft, even though he’s clearly tired you know he’s about to march you upstairs and tuck you into bed. “You need your rest.”

“Well, I feel bad for not cleaning as much as I used to, and you’ve been so tired lately.” You pause, taking a large breath and turning in his arms so you can loop your arms around his neck. Your eyes start to water when you see his eyebrows furrow with concern. “Besides, it’s not going to go away any time soon. Google says that morning sickness can last up to 20 weeks and your doctor says I’m only five weeks along.”

James opens his mouth to say something, then promptly closes it when he registers your words. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his hold on you slightly loosening as he flounders for a minute. You can see in his eyes that he’s trying to piece together all of your symptoms from the last few weeks, and he’s a smart man, so it’s not a surprise that he figures it out pretty quickly.

“Are… Are you…?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Time seems to stand still, James seems to have frozen in place trying to sink in your words. And the longer the silence goes on the more worried you become, and a few tears slide down your cheeks.

“I-I know this isn’t the ideal time, and you’re extremely busy with work, but it just happened. I’m so sorry, I know this is just going to make you even more stressed, and I-I don’t know what you want to do, but –” You’re cut off by James pressing his lips to yours, his arms tightening around your body and pulling you into his chest.

The kiss is frantic, desperate, excited. And when James pulls back you can’t help but follow his lips with yours, trying to keep the kiss going. But James doesn’t give in, instead, he leans back enough to be able to look into your eyes. And his are glassy, filled with unshed tears as he brings up one hand to brush away yours with his thumb.

“Fuck, bunny. Don’t be sorry, never be sorry for this. Bunny, you’re – you’re giving me everything I’ve wanted since I first saw you.”

Loosening his arms around your waist, he drops to his knees, placing one hand on your hip and covering your stomach with the other. He stares at your belly with amazement, then pushes up your shirt so he can kiss your belly. Your hands immediately find their way into his hair, rubbing his scalp and running your fingers through it. After a couple of minutes, he finally moves back to look up at you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He smiles wide when you nod, more tears involuntarily sliding down your cheeks.

“I’m really pregnant.” Your voice wavers, but you’re finally at ease, no longer worried about how James would react.

“Fuck, bunny,” He whispers, slowly rising to his feet and grabbing your hips. He leans down, brushing his lips over yours and smiling a little when you whine. “You’re going to be such a pretty mama.”

James is unable to stop himself from lifting you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nibbling on his skin until he gets to your room and lays you gently on the bed.

He doesn’t immediately climb onto the bed, he just stands at the end of the bed and stares at you with a mixture of love and lust. A few moments of silence goes by before you finally whine, wiggling your hips to hopefully entice him.

It works. James shrugs off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, smirking at you the whole time because your eyes are roaming over his bare chest, and you’re practically drooling when he gets to his pants.

“See something you like?” He chuckles when you glare at him.

“You know I do, so please hurry up. I want you inside me.” While you were teasing, you know you’ve made a mistake when his smile drops and one of his eyebrows raises.

“Where are those manners, bunny? Just because I knocked you up doesn’t mean I’m not still your Sir.”

“I’m sorry, sir! I-I didn’t mean to - I just -“ You stumble over your words, not worried about him punishing you physically, but you know he’s not above edging you for hours on end, and you’re sure you’ll actually cry if that happens.

“I know, bunny,” James coos, finally stepping out of his pants and boxers and kicking them to the side. Before you can say anything he grabs you by your ankles, then tugs you down the bed until your legs are dangling off the edge. “It’s okay, you’re still my good little bunny.”

You moan at his words, a pleasant fuzziness clouding your head. And then James helps you sit up a little so he can unzip your dress — his favorite floral one — and slide the straps down your arms. When he lays you back down he pulls the dress down and off your body, groaning when he sees your bare body, just as he likes it. One of his rules about living with him is that you’re not to wear panties or a bra, you have to always be ready for him.

You and James have never been more grateful for it.

“Fuck, bunny,” James groans and takes hold of his achingly hard cock, squeezing the base. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Going to make such a beautiful mama.”

“Sir, please.” Your eyes water, this time from frustration. You need him inside you immediately.

“Okay, bunny, okay, don’t worry your pretty little head.” James climbs onto the bed and arranges your bodies so he’s sitting against the headboard and you’re sitting on his lap, your back to his chest and your pussy resting over his throbbing dick.

It takes everything in you not to roll your hips against his, the only reason you don’t is because you want to be good for him. He seems to recognize this and lovingly kisses your cheek, humming softly.

“My good girl, my perfect girl,” James mumbles into your ear, placing his hands on the inside of your thighs and spreading them wide open, hooking your ankles around his calves. He drags one hand up to rest lightly on your stomach, his other stroking your thigh, climbing higher and higher until you’re practically vibrating with need.

“Sir.” You’re already sounding pathetic, but, to be fair, James has that effect on you. With only a few touches he can render you dumb, but you love it.

“What do you need, bunny?” James asks as though he doesn’t already know what you need. What you crave.

“You, sir. Always you.” Tears spring to your eyes, damn your hormones.

James sighs behind you, trailing his lips to your cheek, down to your jaw, and then your neck.

“You have me, pretty mama. You always have me. I’m yours as much as you are mine.” His words make you sniffle, a few tears sliding down your cheeks.

You’re so lucky.

“Come here, bunny.” James urges you off his lap, maneuvering your bodies so you’re laying down and he’s hovering over you. He leans on one elbow and reaches up with his other hand to wipe away a few tears, smiling softly when you nuzzle his palm.

“Are you going to let me love on you, pretty mama?”

“Y-Yes, please. Please!” You’re slipping even further into that soft space where nothing else matters except for James, except for Sir.

James leans down, brushing his lips against yours and chuckling when you whine. The moment he finally kisses you he slides his hand down your neck to your breasts, lighting tugging at one of your nipples before sliding down further until he can spread your legs. He only pulls back when his hand makes it to the inside of one of your thighs, cooing when you whimper.

“It’s okay, bunny. I’m going to give you everything you need.” He’s slow and careful when he inches closer to your soaking pussy, running his thumb along your lips and dipping in to gently rub your clit.

He teases you for a long while, staring into your eyes when he dips two fingers in your hole easily due to how wet you are. He’s slow and methodical as he slips in another finger, kissing your cheeks every so often to catch stray tears. When he finally decides you’ve had enough teasing he starts thrusting his fingers faster, crooking them upwards to hit your special spot.

It doesn’t take long at all for you to cum, both because of James’ expert fingering and because of his husky voice whispering praises in your ear. And it’s an intense orgasm, your body going so far as to squirt liquid all over his hand.

It does take a bit for you to come down from your high, your mind is too clouded and fuzzy from pleasure. But when you do come to your senses you’re in the bathtub, your back to his chest as you soak in the warm water. James’ hands are on your stomach, rubbing over it as though it holds a priceless gem.

And, to be fair, there is. The little baby growing inside you is going to be the most loved child in the world.

“James?” Your voice is soft, not wanting to disturb the peace.

“Yes, bunny?” He kisses your neck, and you lean against him further.

“What, um—“ You wiggle a little, feeling his now only semi-hard cock against your lower back. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” James hums, suckling at your skin. “Tonight is about you, pretty mama.”

You’ll never understand how it’s possible to love someone as much as you love James, let alone be loved by such a perfect man, but you won’t question it.

tagging: @hisredheadedgoddess28

#let me know what yall think!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #dark!bucky barnes #softdark!bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #ceo!bucky barnes #ceo!bucky #dark!bucky #my writing #my stuff

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everytimewetouch-dot-mp3 · 20 days ago

Note

I am DEATHLY curious about your most recent (stunning, beautiful, awesome) omegaverse svsss au. How does shen yuan act about being an omega??? Is he bombarded with new instincts and impulses that he, the king of denial/repression, just never acts upon? I’m also really interested in how he overall reacts to binghe’s overall alpha-ness

im sorry it took me so long to get to your ask!! i wanted to wait until i had time to properly write out a reply, and holiday travel is exhausting. ANYWAYS. im almost certainly gonna have way too much to say about this lmao, im sorry in advance (update. i just finished writing. there’s…there’s a lot, im sorry lmaooo)

when sy transmigrates into essentially an OC, the system does him the courtesy of ensuring he pops into existence with some medicinal teas used as suppressants. he entered the body in a state where it was using qi to suppress inconvenient instincts and impulses. so when he first arrived, he had a few days with the knowledge that he was an omega before the instincts and impulses started hitting with a force he couldn’t ignore. my mans was like ‘oh being an omega isn’t too bad; idk why airplane made it seem like such a big deal in the book’ etc etc.

once the suppression wears off, though, poor sy is kind of taken out with a migraine just from the overload of scent information. while his body has been parsing that kind of information for who knows how long (sy surely doesn’t!! he has no idea how old this body is!!), he’s kind of overwhelmed by this new stream of information he simply never had before. he adjusts pretty quickly to the scents and pheromones aspect of being an omega (as much as he can without any other alphas or omegas around, of course).

it’s the instinct and impulse bit that’s given him trouble.

the nesting drive is both new and summarily dismissed as a quirk of this new body. it just likes to be surrounded in soft things. what’s wrong with that? everybody likes being comfortable, and even little kids feel safe from scary monsters when they’re covered in blankets. never mind that he spends 45 minutes and one near-breakdown arranging the bedding in the first inn he stays at. that’s just because he’s frustrated from all the walking he’s been doing. and no, he’s not purring once he gets it right, because people don’t do that. it’s a sigh, tyvm.

(he just tunes out the sound of purring after a while. it’s inconvenient information he’s not ready or equipped to deal with, so he simply decides it doesn’t exist.)

the omegan vocalizations give him a lot of trouble, tbh. at one point in his wandering, he wanders into a little town. after playing a very strange game of hide and seek with the local children (they are both hiding and seeking, peeking around corners to watch sy and running away as soon as he looks at them), the oldest leads him to her parents’ house. he stays with them for a few days and can’t help his pleased chirping whenever the pups—children! the children!!—bring him cool rocks or interesting plants. he tells his hosts stories and they give him warm spiced tea, and his pleased chirp startles his hosts so badly they nearly drop the pot. (most people never meet alphas or omegas, though they know how to identify them.

when he meets lbh, every bit of self control sy thought he had is tested. he’s coming off of days of being stressed, afraid, and in pain, and he’s sure to his bones that lbh is going to kill him. sy becomes jumpy, finds himself sleeping better in confined spaces (under the bed, under a pile of blankets, in the corner of the room after moving blankets/furniture to construct a little den for himself). his purring is scratchy and stuttered and near-constant whenever someone else is around (self-soothing purring sounds far less smooth than contented purring. everyone in the palace can tell the difference).

at the same time, there’s something about lbh (his scent his voice his aura of deadly control) that has sy wanting to be close. he writes it off as the protagonist halo. of course being around lbh feels both like having a knife at his throat and like coming home for the first time in years—he’s the protagonist and sy is an omega! it’s unfortunately inevitable that he’d want to be around lbh at least a little bit. when lbh gives sy a heavily scented outer robe, sy adds it to his nest and immediately shifts across the room from it, glaring and keening and wringing his hands as if it were an invader that arrived on its own.

when lbh tries to use his alpha voice on sy to get him away from sj, shen yuan is livid. he feels small and violated and deeply disrespected, and he refuses to see lbh when he has the choice, and denies him the opportunity to scent mark him when he doesn’t have the choice to stay away. lbh doesn’t use alpha voice on him again, but sy is too busy being furious and hurt to pick up the dark, burning scent of pain and regret coming from lbh. besides, if lbh were truly sorry, he’d say something instead of stinking up the place with his stupid alpha pain.

eventually, being away from lbh for so long after frequent regular contact with him starts…getting to sy. after a week or two of the silent treatment, lbh finally forces a conversation where he doesn’t really apologize but at least acknowledges that he offended his new omega. sy takes it for the peace offering it is and allows lbh to scent him again. except. sy had basically been rolling around in lbh’s alpha scent since he arrived at the palace, and after a week without it, his body was less than pleased with the thought that his alpha had abandoned him. so when he’s scented again and given a new robe for his nest, sy kind of…goes into heat a little bit.

this has never happened to him before. he doesn’t realize what’s going on until a full day in, when he’s cramping so badly he can’t get out of bed and his bedding is soaked through with all manner of fluids. sweat, slick, tears. there are a lot of tears. a lot more than he expected. and besides feeling terrified and being in a surprising amount of pain (wasn’t heat supposed to be sexy, airplane?!?!?!!), sy is weirdly lonely. there’s this ache in the back of his mind, this animal part of him yowling at the wrongness of going through this alone. his alpha is supposed to be with him. his alpha isn’t with him. his alpha doesn’t want him.

so he cries a lot, the first couple of days. can’t help it. he’s hot, he’s aching, he’s empty, he’s horny, he’s desperately lonely, and even though he’s alone, he feels absolutely humiliated by all this nonsense. being an omega is bullshit, actually. shen yuan wants a knot in his ass and a refund on this whole experience.

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hitoshiyoshi · 7 months ago

Text

save me, cupid ! | midoriya izuku

synopsis ↬ having a cupid quirk is proven to be a curse

warnings ↬ angst(?) but not too bad, honestly i don't know what to label this exactly lol, the reader acts like a yandere, unrequited love, love-starved reader, just an idea of what it would be like to have a cupid quirk, mentions of red string, mentions of violence, my apologies if it sounds bad, it's just an idea, obsessive reader

pairings ↬ crush!midoriya izuku x gn!yandere!reader

word count ↬ 4.7k

Since you first discovered your quirk at the tender age of four years old, you've always hated it. It had no purpose; no ability to defend or protect yourself, much less others. You might as well have been born quirkless. Whenever you told anyone about it, you always heard the same words. They would either reaffirm how pointless your quirk was or talk about how powerful it was, but never good enough for you to become a hero. Of course, you didn’t mind their ignorant comments. Until you noticed the behavior of your friends change upon telling them, always leading to the same outcome.

You have a type of mind-control quirk, called ‘Cupid’. Your quirk allows you to see whether two people are soulmates; when you concentrate long enough, a red string appears on the ring finger of your target connecting them to their soulmate. You can also make two people fall in love by locking eyes with your target, repeating their name, the name of another target, and a simple phrase: “loves you”. The same is true with the reverse phrase, “loves you not”.

After numerous attempts on yourself, you concluded that your quirk could not work on you. Despite this, you still explored the idea. Ever so often, you would come up with ideas but each failed.

You weren’t immune to crushes. When you tried to make them love you, your quirk would never activate on them. It was hard for you to understand why at first.

At first, it began when you noticed thin red strings attached to the fingers of some classmates in school. Some connected students that were in the same class while others stretched far outside the building, until they were out of view. When asking your friends about the strings, they seemed confused and looked around but couldn’t see the strings attaching them together. Only you could see the red string. It was like this for a couple years, a thin rope connecting two people.

There was no red string on your ring finger. Concentrating on your hands and trying to find one only brought you head splitting migraines.

You could vaguely remember when you learned about the other powers of your quirk. School ended early that day and one of your best friends insisted on going to the nearby park before heading home. As you sat close to a field of buttercup flowers, they picked one of the stems. Your friend professed their deep affections for another classmate. You two were young and it was nothing but puppy love. Plucking the yellow petals from the growing bud, they repeated the name of their crush followed by "...loves me," and then another petal, "...loves me not".

Staring at their ring finger, you noticed the string trail off in the distance. A sudden, innocent, thought came to your mind. Tapping your friend on the shoulder and giggling, you tore off one of the petals before locking eyes. They seemed to lose focus as they watched your actions and peered down at the flower in curiosity. You called their name, making eye-contact again, and repeated the name of their crush, "...loves you".

It was only meant to be a harmless joke, but as you watched your friend's eyes go into a cloudy gaze, you panicked. Shaking their shoulders and calling them again, they seem to regain consciousness. Your friend's eyes quickly darted across their surroundings until they finally noticed your presence. Except, they began to act abnormal.

Rambling about their crush in a feverish manner; how they wanted to touch, feel, kiss, and caress them. Eyes glowing pink with lovestruck passion and a deep red blush warmed their cheeks. You tried to speak to them and ask them what was wrong. Until they scowled at you, slapping your hands away when you tried to reach out to them. Screaming nonsense about how you weren't their beloved, only their true love could touch them!

Soon, they ran off — searching desperately for their sweetheart.

The next day, you saw your two best friends holding hands and whispering sweet nothings without a care in the world. You tried to speak to them, but you were always ignored. When lunchtime came, you tried sitting next to them, only for them to immediately stand and move to another table. Eventually, they refused to acknowledge you. You had no use for them, only a burden and a distraction from their beloved. They left you alone...

Alone.

It took you some time to realize — you thought the world was being cruel when you noticed other classmates begin to avoid you as well — it was more than matchmaking. It was based on attraction. The stronger the target's love was for their partner, the higher the chance of success. The disgusted stares of your classmates became a repetitive occurrence; you only used your quirk once yet they became naturally repulsed by you.

Your friend's love deflected a force onto you that repelled everyone away, an unfortunate weakness and downside of your quirk. Soon, you were abandoned. The small acquaintances you had, dropped like flies.

As your new friend Ochaco approaches you in the lobby after school, you wonder how you managed to defy the negative effect of your quirk usage. Everyone in your previous school either hated you or had some type of unjustifiable prejudice against you; if people already disliked you, might as well have fun with your quirk, right? Creating short relationships with nearly all of your ex-classmates, it was pure enjoyment.

Receiving the acceptance letter from U.A. was a pure miracle. You didn't bother trying to get into the hero course, letting the words of your peers control you. Instead, you opted for the General Studies course once deciding that the business and support courses were not the most ideal option for you. You managed to befriend a boy named Shinsou Hitoshi who didn't seem too bothered by your quirk.

Although some of your classmates blatantly ignored you, he was unaffected. You didn't find a threat in his mind-control quirk; you found solace in the similarity of your quirks. He accompanied you to your classes and was a shoulder to lean on when you were feeling down.

Ochaco waves at you and urges you to come closer, a pleasant smile spreads across her lips. In the distance you see her friend, Midoriya Izuku speaking to a tall, blue-haired boy with glasses. Izuku... You can't remember where you first heard his name or noticed him, but your unnatural infatuation with him had grown surplus since then. Was it at the Sports Festival? Or perhaps when you noticed him walking in the halls one day and felt your heart-pounding in your chest as you stared. Izuku felt your eyes on him and peered back at you with a soft gaze, blushing and smiling before continuing his walk.

Maybe it was his gentle nature towards you that made you feel at peace. Although Shinsou was nice to you, there was something about Izuku. You already knew it had to be a crush; the feeling was so familiar to you. Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest infatuation, though. Every time he was in your vicinity, you could feel your heart threaten to rip out of your rib cage and leap into his arms. He was one of the few that didn't seem too bothered by your quirk or see you as a nuisance.

There was a need, no, a desperation for him to be with you. Always having a watchful eye on him, you studied nearly all of his movements. Feeling someone's gaze on him, Izuku would glance around and search for your eyes. Only for you to quickly shift away, but he wasn't an idiot. He caught your glance a few times and once thought about approaching you, but he never did.

It was impossible to have him reciprocate your feelings, you were positive. He didn't know you despite recognizing your face and eyes. Of course, you knew so many things about him; sneakily following him home after classes, overhearing him and All Might talk about their association — how cute! You were the first to know about his secret, a good lover should know these things, right? It was truly amazing how after all these months, he hadn't noticed you.

Thank goodness his mother wasn't home when you broke into their apartment and went through his bedroom. The All Might memorabilia was nauseating, but if he loved it then you should too! A little shrine of his possessions and unmentionables started to build quickly in the corner of your room. How devoted you are... it's only fair that he should be the same. You desperately wanted him to act as such, but he never did.

Using your quirk was not an option. Even if it was, his attraction to you wasn't strong enough... yet.

There was also another problem: the girl approaching you right now, Ochaco. It was clear as day that she shared the same affections as you. Anyone could notice the two students shyly flirting and blushing around each other. How his face would light up whenever she entered the room or how her cheeks would turn a dark shade of pink around him. You were familiar with their actions because you witnessed them on others in the past. A sharp sting of jealousy arose as you watched them.

You seethed with envy around her, befriending her was a fine way to keep her in your proximity at all times. She was another one who didn't mind your quirk. So, you decided to wait until the perfect moment came.

Only God knows how many times you needed to stop yourself from intertwining your fingers into her brunette hair and bashing her head into the concrete — she'd become so unsightly. Blood staining the ground with purple and black bruises spreading across her swollen face. But if you did that, the teachers would surely have you expelled. Perhaps, her parents would press charges on you. Then, you could never see Izuku again. And the poor look on his face from watching would surely traumatize him... there wasn't any possibility you would dare.

You watched their interactions through gritted teeth every time they spoke to each other. You've had this quirk since the day you were born. The expressions of true love and light touches your victims would share with their beloved was all the same. Their love had blossomed like a field of tulips once spring comes.

"Hey, (Y/N)! Are you alright?" Ochaco asks as she stands in front of you. She waves her hand in your face after a few seconds to gain your attention.

"Oh... H- Hey, Ochaco... Sorry, I wasn't paying attention." Giving her your best smile as reassurance but she doesn't seem to believe you.

"You weren't...? But you were staring right at me?" Fuck. She turns her head and looks behind her, searching around. His shy green eyes meet her gaze before quickly looking away. "Were you looking behind me...? Is it Deku?" You want to leave the conversation, but you know how persistent she would become.

"No," Her head quickly snaps back towards you, intrigued but calm. "Don't worry about it. I guess I'm just tired."

"Ah, okay..." She peers down at the ground as her rosy cheeks begin to deepen their color. "Well... I actually wanted to ask you a favor."

"What is it?"

"I know you don't like using your quirk often..." You've told her your quirk numerous times and always mentioned your reluctance to use it. You realize now that was a mistake. Not want to repeat your years at your previous school all over again. "...and it's OK if you don't want to do it. I won't force you." She's still staring down, too embarrassed to continue but she still attempts.

"It's fine, don't worry."

"Could you... Could you use your quirk to make Deku like me back? I really like him but... I'm not sure if he feels the same way about me... I'm kinda scared, you know?"

You pause at the girl standing in front of you, still hiding her face as her eyes cast towards the ground. Make him like her back...? Why would you ever do that? As if it wasn't obvious to nearly everyone in their class and, even some random students, that they had feelings for each other. Why would she need you to do something she could do herself? She's lucky her eyes are fixed towards the ground or else she would've noticed your clenched fist landing somewhere painful.

Truthfully, she didn't know how envious you were of her position. You weren't even sure of the extremes you would endure just to have him notice you. Alas, perhaps now is not the time. You knew it would end in the same outcome as all your other attempts.

"Just confess to him. I'm sure he'll accept it." You never wanted to use your quirk to find the string on Ochaco's fingers, you were too afraid. You began to walk away from her after unsuccessfully hiding your scorned voice, but she tightly held onto the sleeve of your gray blazer.

"W- Wait!" Refusing to turn around, you let her finish. "Can't you at least tell me if we're soulmates?"

"I won't." The girl seems to sulk at your rejection, her grip on your blazer loosens before she pulls away.

"Well, I guess it's wrong to want to know. I'm sorry for pressuring you..." As you begin to forgive her, she interrupts you. "I hope this isn't too personal for you, but is it true that you like him too?"

"Where did you hear that?" You snap your head and see her nervously scratching her neck, glaring up at you.

"I always see you staring at him! Don't you think it's kinda weird?"

"What do you mean?"

"He has no idea who you are and the way you look at him can be kinda creepy sometimes…” Ochaco straightens her back, stiffening her posture in an uncomfortable way while smiling at you tauntingly. Her brows furrowed as she peers around the room.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ochaco.”

“But it’s true!” She twirls her brown hair between her fingertips, thinking once again before asking. “Is that why you won’t tell me if we’re soulmates?”

The thought of you two having the same crush makes Ochaco sick to her stomach. She doesn't know the reason why. It was an uneasy feeling that remained throughout your entire interaction.

“I’ve told you countless times before, I don’t use my quirk as much as I did in the past…” Ochaco holds her head down in defeat again, on the brink of giving up. “But since you keep pushing me, fine. Give me your hand. Let me check for the string first.”

She beams up at you, eagerly passing her ring finger to you. Filled with a new found excitement — Oh, she can’t wait! Ochaco’s eyes lit up with the same expression as every other person who has asked you. Each hand you’ve held has prayed for the same outcome. The warm, yet sweaty palms feel common. Occasionally twitching their fingers with anticipation.

You gaze at her ring finger, ignoring the distractions around you. Your eyes squint until you can see the familiar red string appearing on her skin. It’s looped perfectly where a wedding ring will be in the future. The string trails down her arm, falling to the floor and continuing behind her. It cuts through a group of students loitering around nearby and past chairs scattered through the room.

Your heart pounds in your chest, beating heavy like a drum with each second that is drawn out. It ends with a girl throwing away her trash. You want to breathe out a sigh of relief, but she walks towards one of her friends. And of course, there he was. Completely oblivious to the scene happening a few feet away from him.

Ochaco, moving restlessly on her feet, turns behind once more.

“It’s Izuku, isn’t it? It’s him, right?” She grins, ear to ear. It’s unknown if she’s ecstatic about being soulmates or if she can no longer worry about other competition — including you.

"Of course, it's him."

"So, can you use your quirk on him?" She hops around excitedly on the tips of her toes. Her face is as red as a cherry, but she's more confident than before. "For me? Please?"

"I don't even need to do that, Ochaco. Everyone in your class knows that he has feelings for you. You don't need me."

"Are you jealous? Is that why? Come on, (Y/N). There's nothing about you that he would want, anyways." She stares up at the ceiling, tapping her finger against her chin. "Use your quirk to find someone else, it shouldn't be hard."

But… But it’s just not fair, you tell yourself. In all honesty, you should’ve known. There were too many signs that you chose to ignore. This was the reason you hesitated for so long. As Cupid, you already knew. Now you were destined to have the same fate once again. Should you tell her? Even now, you aren’t sure why you agreed. Should your spirit to find clarity and let go?

Maybe you will stop caring about Izuku. Forget about the burning passion that flourishes through your body with every glance you give to him.

But you don’t want to do that right now.

“Uraraka Ochaco,” Surely, you still have a chance. Your eyes are locked on each other. “Midoriya Izuku, loves you not. Forget him.”

Her breath stops, her eyes become dilated and watery. You’ve never seen someone react in that way before. She stares at you with a vacant expression while you examine her face. Ochaco’s mouth is slightly agape, like she’s frozen in place. You feel her pulse start to slow down gently. Grasping her shoulder, you shake the girl out of her trance — you can’t have her passing out in front of everyone!

“Wha… What happened?” Ochaco returns to normal — well mostly.

“You were asking about Izuku, don’t you remember?”

Her cheeks turn a dark rosy color and for a second, you wonder if you’ve finally lost your quirk. Until she responds:

“Izuku… Izuku…” She glances around the room, trying to search for an answer in her mind. It sounds familiar, that name. “I don’t know who that is,” She tries to sound confident, but you can tell that she doubts herself.

“He’s your classmate.” Did she respond to your ‘forget him’ command? Has your quirk evolved since you last tried to use it? All that time you’ve spent with Shinsou must have rubbed off. She seems lost for a moment; She blushes, yet a frown is worn on her face.

“Oh, a classmate. Then why can’t I..?” Her head is empty with every attempt at trying to remember him. In the few chances that she can, his existence and the thought of him makes her sour. Barely knowing his face, yet she cannot stop the disgust that emerges.

“Ochaco? Isn’t there somewhere you should be right now?”

“Right! Gosh… My head feels like it’s spinning.” You release her hand, she gathers her belongings and tidies up. “I’ve got to go home and help my parents with some stuff. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!”

Ochaco runs off to the exit, hopping away like a rabbit fleeing from a predator. It was for the best; you try to tell yourself. But the guilt of it all eats away at your soul. You wait for a few minutes before you step outside into the warm air, you aren’t sure of the feelings erupting inside. You should’ve been relieved; no need to worry about Ochaco or any other person in the way. If you needed to, you knew how to handle it.

By now, Izuku and his classmates have left the building. Ochaco stands by the entrance of the school. You see two of her friends nearby, chatting away and completely oblivious to the spell you’ve cast on her. The separate groups don’t seem to notice each other yet; they stand on opposite ends with their backs turned.

The time was perfect, you clutched the envelope in your pocket tightly.

Your legs move on their own at first, running to the fluffy haired boy. He smiled at his friends, unaware of your heavy steps to him. You bump into a few students who gave you annoyed glances. There’s no time to apologize to them, you move with a mission.

He doesn’t notice you behind him at first. Izuku was only alerted from the expressions of his friends surrounding him and the softest tap on his shoulder.

“Izuku?” You say quietly while he turns his body to face you.

“Yeah, what’s up?” The others around him paused their conversation.

“Oh, I just wanna have a chat with you… I hope you’re not busy.” You replied while pointing to his friends behind him. “By the way, I’m (Y/N)…”

“Ah, I’ve seen you around the school before.” Izuku waves goodbye to his friends and pulls you aside to talk.

"Really...?” He knows who you are! You reach into your pocket and pull out the letter. It’s pink and decorated with colorful hearts on the outside. Your hands tremble with the paper; shyly and with your head focused on the ground, you slip the letter in his hands.

“What’s this?” Izuku asks and peers up at you, your fingertips graze his hand ever so slightly — the tingling against his skin draws him closer.

“Midoriya Izuku,” With the command of your voice, his mind becomes a fog. The same unaware expression as Ochaco was written over his face. “Uraraka Ochaco loves you not.”

“I… I…” Unlike Ochaco, Izuku tries to fight the spell as he did at the sports festival against Shinsou — except your quirk was far stronger than his. His eyes become vacant; things were working nicely in your favor. You just needed to make sure.

“Izuku?”

“What...? Oh,” Izuku regains consciousness and focuses his eyes on the pink envelope in his hand. Outstretching some of your fingers, you gesture for him to open it.

"It's for you. I wrote it..."

He sloppily tears the letter open - all that effort you put into folding it, you cringe a bit as you watch. Izuku's eyes scan your writing, widening with every word. His cheeks tint into a light pink color, a soft grin adorns his lips:

"Izuku, from the day I saw you at the Sports Festival, I truly experienced a love that I've never known before,"

But of course, it's short-lived.

Clinching onto the paper tightly, he begins to tremble.

"And that love is one that I want to be kept near to me, have you ever felt this before?"

. . .

"My dearest, Izuku. My nights have been endless with thoughts of you. I can hear it, your footsteps in the night. I feel as if I'm going insane,"

. . .

"It's shameful of me to admit. How pretty and soft your skin looks; I've fantasized about this — dragging my sharpest knife across your every vein and marking you,"

. . .

"I want to rip your heart out of your chest with my own hands and keep it to myself, blood and all. I'll give you mine in return. I will surrender myself to you,"

. . .

"I wonder what it feels like to be inside you, inside your mind. I want to touch you, I want to feel you,"

. . .

"My dearest, Izuku. Will you let me do that? Will you give yourself to me?"

Izuku's mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water; he becomes completely at a loss for exactly what to say. At first, you thought it must've been side effects from your quirk, until...

"Well? I put a lot of thought into it. I know we haven't spoken before, and I might not be your type, but..."

"I appreciate the- the letter..." He fumbles out, unwilling to face you. His eyes travel from the paper to the orange-magenta sky. Anywhere besides you. "But I'm in the hero course, you know. It's ve- very tiring. I can't manage a relationship n- now. I'm sorry..."

Yet, deep down, Izuku can't help but pity you. He would've at least considered if you hadn't written about wanting to stab him.

"I see," Your words are barely audible, even with the close space between you two. "So, that's your excuse. Well, don't worry," The only thing you could do was smile, trying to balance out the tears welling up in your eyes.

"Excuse...?" What a funny word to use. The vacancy in his heart is profound; a force is stopping him. He knows, you must've done something to him.

"Never mind."

Izuku passes the letter back to you and takes a few steps back. Slowly and with a step at a time. He waits for the perfect opening and retreats to the safety of his friends. They all cheer him on, seeing him chat up someone for the first time — unaware of the contents of your 'love letter'.

A stream of tears falls from your eyes, traveling from your damp cheeks to the paper in your hands. It ruins your perfectly crafted letter that you spent months preparing. What a waste. Izuku can hear your sniffles as his friends quiet down. He was such a good-natured boy, that was what you loved him for. Deep down, he wanted to calm you, but he refuses to move from his spot.

It's not fair.

Cupid. It's a useless quirk that you will forever hate. The love you truly want will never come to you — it's your karma, anyways. Well, it wouldn't be too big of a deal. All the hearts you've meddled with will find new loves eventually. Once they learn to overcome the emptiness where their soulmates should be, they wouldn't need to worry.

Why can't these feelings just disappear?

You had a plan. Should you try it? One last chance to see if you quirk could work on yourself. How often do quirks work on their users? It was a rarity, and you were willing to take that risk.

Opening your phone, you place your earbuds in your ears.

"(Y/N) (L/N), Midoriya Izuku loves you not." A recording of your voice plays. Only an experiment to see if it would actually work on you. The thought came to you after a period of frustration.

Eagerly, you waited for your mind to become foggy. No thoughts and a blank expression; the curse of all your victims before you took them out of a trance. The phrase replays multiple times in your ears, and you march off the campus back home. Although you tried, deep down in your heart, you refused to let go. You clasped your eyes shut and prayed, by some miracle that it stops.

"Midoriya Izuku loves you not." "Midoriya Izuku loves you not." "Midoriya Izuku loves you not." It continued, soon sounding like a chant with the way your voice rings.

With the last echo of the sentence in your ears, the pain in your heart travels straight to your head. Crying out in distress, a wave of pressure flooded to every inch above your neck. You stopped in your tracks, nearly ripping out locks of hair trying to suppress it. With every movement, your head ached and throbbed to the rhythm of your pulse.

And like a true hero, he ran to you at the first yelp that left your lips.

"(Y/N)! Are you OK?" A fluffy, green-haired boy asked. He placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to lift your head up to get a better look at you.

What a good-natured boy he was. You'd be fawning over his actions on a normal evening. But unfortunately for him, you weren't in the mood.

"Get the fuck off me." Your body reacted before anything else. With a strong shove, he let go of his hold on you. The paper you were holding slipped out of your hands, and the boy with the familiar face stared at you in disbelief.

The farther you walk away from him, the more the pain of your headaches soothes. Who was that?

You try to remember along your journey to the train station, but after a while, you lose interest.

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alwaysurvalentine · 5 months ago

Text

bad days are meant to be shared - st fic

Written for Day 10 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: "Where were you?" - word count: 3.7k - cw: some cussing, mentions of nausea but no vomiting (Steve Harrington centric, but Eddie saves the day)

enjoy! 💛

Working at Family Video is fine. It really is. It can be mindless but Steve doesn’t mind it, or at least he doesn’t mind when he wakes up feeling refreshed. Instead he got to wake up feeling groggy, a heaviness settling in his head that he knows can turn into a migraine if he isn’t careful. His heartbeat is already pulsing through his body but he figures the medicine he took this morning with his coffee should hold off the worst of it until Robin comes in. She’ll be able to talk to the customers and he can just focus on restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes. He’s just got to make it until 2. Only one hour to go until she walks in and so far it’s been pretty quiet for a Friday. Only one more hour and then he won’t have to answer the phone when it rings or-

Speaking of the phone, it starts to ring and he sighs. He wishes he didn’t have to answer, but would rather answer than listen to it continue to ring – acting like an ice pick to his brain.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, how can I help you?”

“Steve! Hey!” Robin’s out of breath on the other end of the line and Steve can picture her wrestling jeans on while talking on the phone. “Can you do me a huuuuge favor? Can you please please cover for me today? Chrissy invited me out to the lake for a picnic!”

He knows he’s going to regret it, especially with how his head already feels, but he also knows she’s covered for him before. Plus, he’s been dying to tell her ‘I told you so’ about the whole Chrissy Situation (TM), since Robin refuses to believe the other girl likes her. Steve’s seen cheerleaders flirt, he knows what it means that Chrissy always finds a way to touch Robin in some way. Examples include bumping shoulders while they walk all the way to brushing Robin’s hair behind her ears – Steve swears she’s hopeless. The girl can figure out Russian in no time, but a girl flirting with her? Might as well be the nuclear codes. Though he thinks Robin could figure that out faster.

“Yeah, Robs. ‘Course I can.” His voice comes out more gruff than he intended, but the light from the front window is just hitting his eyes worse than it was before. The echo of his pounding heartbeat intensifies. There’s a small pause on the other end of the phone, damn Robin and her ability to read him. “Someone’s about to walk in – talk later?”

“Sure, but Ste-” He hangs up. No one’s walking up to the store but Steve stands behind the register for a moment regardless. He crosses his arms on the counter in front of him and leans against them for a couple breaths. Now he’s got four hours to go before he can leave and no one to cover for him if this headache does become a migraine. Hopefully Hawkins will decide to go to the actual movie theater in town rather than coming in for a rental. Four hours until he gets to go home. Where he planned on cooking dinner for Eddie tonight, shit. His head throbs at the idea. No, it’ll be fine. He’ll make it through his shift, make dinner for Eddie, call Robin to ask about her date, clean up dinner, and then go to bed. Imagining his and Eddie’s bed, soft sheets and fluffy pillows gives him some hope; imagining Eddie’s arms around him when he falls asleep brings a small smile to his face.

The bell attached to the front door rings and he sighs before standing straight, his customer service smile already painted on his face when he realizes it’s Dustin that’s walked through the door. As always, his curls are wild under his cap, and he’s wearing his green ‘Camp Know Where’ shirt.

“Steve! Get this! So was messing around with my mom’s radio to see what parts I could use to make my own phonograph -” And the pulsing is back. Steve knows as long as he keeps on nodding every so often and places a couple ‘oh really?’s in there Dustin will carry this whole conversation on his own. Dustin’s mom is a saint, but Steve knows that sometimes her suggestions for ‘Dusty’ to get some air is to give her some time alone in the house. Which usually leads him to wherever Steve is or the rest of the Party – Steve seems to be the lucky winner today.

A family makes their way into the store, Mrs. Dawson and her two boys. Steve doesn’t remember their names but he eyes them as they race off to the cartoon section of the shelves. Mrs. Dawson sets down a couple movies in front of him on the counter, a grimace on her face. Her lipstick is a bright pink that almost hurts to look at.

“Let me just pull up your account to get this squared away. Did you need help finding anything today?” His voice sounds plastic even to him, and distantly he can hear Dustin still talking about the pieces of the camcorder. What the hell is a beam splitter? Anyway – Amelia Dawson’s record shows the two movies on the counter, she’s turning them in on the last day before late fees but that’s fine. He checks that she’s returned them and goes to grab the cases (Robin Hood and Pete’s Dragon smile up at him from their plastic covers); now that he has his hands on them – are very sticky. Like dipped in caramel sticky. Luckily Mrs. Dawson’s attention is back on her boys who have decided to try and play tag in the aisles, uncaring of their elbows catching on movies at the end of shelves and leaving them to clatter on the floor. Steve fights a gag at the feeling and scoots the movies to the side of the counter, he can rewind them later.

“So as I was saying, now I just have to get a couple of parts from Radio Shack and I should be able to record my own waves and see what they look like. If I can do that, then-” Steve tunes him out again, nodding along like he has any idea about what Dustin is talking about. Why does he need to see how words sound?

“Boys, come on now, we don’t want to keep daddy waiting – let’s go. Time for a late lunch.” Luckily, the twins – who he finally remembers are Michael and Matthew – take off towards the door at their mom’s words. Pushing at each other to see who’s going to get there first. The cardboard cut out for the month, Sigourney Weaver’s character from Aliens, falls to the floor in their wake but at least the store is noticeably quieter without them. Dustin asks to use the bathroom and Steve just nods as he rounds the counter. The movies that fell earlier get placed on the shelf and he makes a mental note to move them to the right places before he leaves today. He’s standing the cutout back up when he gets hit with a wave of nausea. He closes his eyes and slowly inhales, knows if he pukes now the rest of his shift will be absolute hell. With his eyes closed it’s a lot easier to hone in on the sounds of the fluorescent lights. Normally it’s a gentle buzz in the background, but today the lights seem to be doing their best impression of a drum line that just won’t quit. The nausea lessens and Steve glances at his watch. Just three hours left to go.

“Steve, what do you think?” Hazel eyes blink and Dustin comes into focus again, his eyes expectant. Steve knows he’s waiting for an answer to something but he genuinely has no idea what was just asked of him. Dustin’s eyebrows furrow slightly as the silence continues. Steve’s head is still throbbing and he can feel his heartbeat all the way down to his fingers.

“What did you say?”

Dustin huffs, rolling his eyes before repeating(?) his question. “I said, do you think that we can record the sound of silence as a sound wave? Because when it’s quiet your ears can make that ringing noise, do you think it’s quantifiable? And if it is, do you think there’s some kind of link to that sound to the part of the ear that is affected by deafness?”

Steve knows all of those words individually, but thinking of them in a sequence that makes sense to him right now is not happening. He even knows what Dustin means by the ringing noise, but he didn’t realize other people heard that too – thought that was just a him thing. Dustin must be able to tell he doesn’t have an answer because he crosses his arms.

“Do you even listen to me when I’m talking?” Steve shouldn’t, especially with how riled up Dustin already appears to be, but he tunes him out again. Choosing instead to focus on the man walking through the door behind his friend.

“Welcome to Family Video!”

Distantly Steve wonders if Robin and Chrissy are having a good time at the lake, it’s been a sunny day. Probably hot enough to swim honestly. He feels bad for thinking it, but he hopes that Eddie’s bandmates are gone by the time he gets home. Normally he’d be fine with them at the apartment since they help bring out the best in Eddie, but he knows that they can also get pretty loud, especially if they’re messing with their instruments. He still needs to reorganize the shelves and rewind a couple films before the end of his shift. The thought of dinner makes his stomach turn and he wishes he could just go to bed once he gets home. But tonight’s his turn to cook, him and Eddie switching off days to make sure no one’s cooking all of the time.

“Excuse me?” A hand snaps in front of his face, bringing his attention to Mr. Jameson’s annoyed face. “Can you check me out or not? I don’t see anyone else here.” His words bite and Steve silently nods. Glancing at the title before looking up his name in the system. The screen is blurry and all the words look like one long dark line across the screen.

“Sorry, sir. Your total is-” before Steve could finish a five dollar bill was placed on the counter. “Okay, your change is $3.50. Here you-”

“No, you owe me four dollars back. Not $3.50. This is why I normally have that girl check me out. You’d think you’d know how much to charge by now.”

“No sir, it’s 50 cents per day, and typical rental time is three days. So that’s $1.50 which makes your change $3.50.” The change sits in Steve’s hand, two quarters pinched between his index finger and thumb. Mr. Jameson stares him down, eyes filled with anger, and Steve’s over it. Whatever, he’s got 5o cents in his car that he can put in the drawer to make it balanced later. He pops open the drawer and pulls out another dollar, dropping the quarters back into their slot. Four dollar bills are snatched from his hand and Mr. Jameson grunts before stomping out the door.

“Steve? What the hell? You’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” Dustin’s voice is shrill when he talks, getting higher near the end, and Steve just breaks.

“Please shut up.” Dustin’s mouth closes with a snap, a look of hurt on his face. Steve wants to say more, explain that having his eyes opens hurts and that he can’t be bothered with customers who don’t know how to be decent; can’t be bothered with remembering what parts of the radio and camcorder and VCR player Dustin took apart for his personal project. He wants to explain that he really needs to put a cold compress on his head and lay down in the pitch black silence of his room for a few hours to be human again.

None of this makes its way out of his tense jaw though and Dustin must decide he’s done with Steve for the day because he says nothing before turning and making his way towards the door. Fuck.

The last two hours of Steve’s shift passes in a blur. Someone tries to call the phone and instead of answering he covers his ears until the ringing stops and then unhooks it from the receiver. A couple of girls try fluttering their eyes at him to see what his weekend plans are but all he can think about is how he’s going to get through dinner with Eddie, and they finally leave with a disappointed glance at each other.

Finally, he’s able to turn the open sign around – and then he remembers he never organized the movies from earlier. He fixes the shelves by dwindling sunlight, having shut off the overhead lights as soon as he could. It takes him about 30 minutes to fix it all, pausing every so often to just stand with his eyes closed. The words have lost their meanings and he hopes that basing his sorting off of the cover pictures is good enough.

Sitting in his car is the most relief Steve’s gotten all day. Eyes closed behind sunglasses he had clipped on his visor and the engine off he takes the time to breathe; the nausea has been coming and going on its own in waves and he almost wishes he could just go to sleep in his car. Getting back to the apartment is only possible through muscle memory and the knowledge that dinner still has to be made. He waits another few minutes in the car, trying to decide if any of the cars outside are of the band’s, or if he’s officially got Eddie all to himself. For the first time today he feels lucky when he doesn’t see Jeff’s car.

Living on the second floor has its benefits, like not having upstairs neighbors and getting lots of natural sunlight for the apartment. It also has its downsides, like carrying heavy groceries in the heat and getting up to their door in one piece when a migraine has him by the throat. Even his key turning in the lock makes him cringe, clenching his teeth together as he steps in. It’s quiet in the apartment, a certain stillness in the air that Steve appreciates. He toes off his shoes, setting his keys in the little ceramic bowl El gifted him and Eddie when they moved, and then bends to straighten his shoes to the wall. Bending does not help his nausea and he swallows down a gag.

“Stevie, honey? You make it home?” Eddie rounds the corner, a grin already on his face. His hair rests on his shoulders, frizzy curls around his head like a halo. Steve musters a small smile at Eddie, closing the distance between them with a few steps. The shirt Eddie’s wearing is well worn, old enough now that the words on the front have faded into the black around them and the collar is stretched out enough that Steve can almost see the top of a spider’s leg.

“Hey, hungry?” Normally Steve matches Eddie’s energy as best he can, but he can already feel his energy draining again. Should’ve sat in the car for a little while longer. He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek and continues his path to the kitchen.

“You read my mind. You okay with cooking while I finish up some stuff before dinner? I promise you’ll have me all to yourself once food is ready. Just have some chords to figure out after talking with Gareth about some timing stuff.” Steve hopes Eddie’s looking when he nods because all of the movement from the stairs has caught up to him and he doesn’t think he has it in him to speak right now.

Alone in the kitchen Steve just breathes. Almost done. Just have to brown the meat, toss it into some sauce and make the noodles. Easy.

All of the ingredients are sitting on the counter when Steve finally loses the battle with his nausea and darts to the bathroom. He keeps the lights off, more focused on kneeling on the tile and trying to breathe through his gagging. A few minutes go by and he’s able to take a full breath in – just sitting down has taken the edge off. The darkness of the bathroom is more than welcome, he just wishes he wasn’t crouched over in his jeans still. Soft footsteps sound from the hallway heading towards the kitchen, guess Eddie finished his stuff.

“Stevie? Where’d you go?” As much as he’d love to answer, the effort it would take to yell for Eddie isn’t worth it right now so instead Steve leans against the tub, coolness spreading across his back. Another moment passes and Eddie rounds the corner to the bathroom, confusion on his face.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Three words and the dam holding Steve together just, breaks. His head pounds worse when the tears start but he can’t stop now that he’s started. Today sucked. And now his night’s going just as poorly. Can’t even get dinner made. Eddie’s still looking at him but he can’t make out his expression through the tears blurring his vision.

“Okay, alright, come here.” And then Eddie’s kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched for Steve to lean in to. As soon as he leans in, he’s crumpling into Eddie’s arms.

Steve’s not sure how long they sit there, him crying into Eddie’s shirt, but the collar is nice and damp by the time he pulls away.Disgusting.

“As much as I love this surprise cuddle session, wanna tell me what’s going on?” He knows Eddie doesn’t mean to, but the sound of his boyfriend’s voice almost seems to echo in the bathroom. Steve shakes his head and whines, tries to burrow further into Eddie – done with pretending. His head hurts and his whole body feels heavy like concrete. Right now the best thing in the world is having his eyes shut, head tucked into Eddie’s neck, and having his back rubbed. Without an answer though, Eddie leans back, staring at Steve hard like he’s going to hear the answer if he thinks at Steve hard enough.

“Head.” Just one word takes a herculean effort and Steve watches as recognition lights in Eddie’s eyes. Finally. And then Steve blinks long and slow.

When Steve cracks his eyes open again he’s greeted by the wall of his and Eddie’s bedroom instead of the white of the bathroom. His head is still pounding but at least it’s dark in here, the curtains are drawn and he has a feeling even if they were open only the moon would greet him. He knows Eddie’s not currently in the room because the air feels still, and distantly he thinks he can hear movement in the kitchen.

Shit, dinner. He was supposed to cook dinner tonight. He hears the small creak of the door opening and he shuts his eyes again – he’s not ready to see or talk to Eddie yet. Embarrassment heats his face remembering how much he cried earlier, not that Eddie hasn’t seen him in worse states. But Steve Harrington taken down by a simple headache? Stupid. Can’t even contribute to the house like Eddie. Can’t keep up with Dustin when he talks. Can’t be happy for his best friend when she lands a date.

“Hey, baby. Gotta wake up, I want you to take some medicine and drink some water.” A gentle hand is on Steve’s calf, rubbing slightly to ‘wake’ him. He burrows deeper into the blankets instead of rolling over.

“Baby…” And now Eddie just sounds disheartened, another person Steve needs to apologize to. Eddie first, for crying for no reason. Then Dustin for not listening to his rant. Then Robin for not being more excited for her. “Medicine and then water, then you can sleep some more. Come on.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve rolls over, tugging the blanket with him . He’s miserable and can’t think of anything better than sleep. Tomorrow he can make it up to Eddie; make him breakfast, do the laundry, make a grocery list, ask him how handing out with the guys went, check in about -

“-vie, I need you to focus for just a couple minutes. Where do you keep going? Get out of that head of yours, can’t imagine it’s helping your migraine.” The words are whispered and Steve blinks at Eddie. Brown eyes meet his and he manages a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“No need for all that. If you’d listened the first time you’d know I don’t mind. I love getting to take care of you. I love you. Stop worrying about whatever it is, there’s nothing you need to make up for – so no more apologies.” Eddie’s so earnest when he talks, a smile on his face causing small dimples to form. He’s holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other, but it’s the damp washcloth Steve can see draped on his wrist that brings a tear to his eye. Doesn’t matter if Eddie never said those three words again, his actions say them enough. Damp wash cloths when Steve’s head hurts, standing up for Steve when one of the kid’s decides they don’t want to explain a reference they make, or even when he flashes him a knowing smile behind Robin’s head when she’s talking about Chrissy. He’s full of love, and no matter how much Steve might feel like he’s messed up – he knows Eddie’s got enough love for him too.

“Hey, why are we crying? Sit up and take these.” With a small sniffle Steve nods, sits up, and takes the medicine. The washcloth is cool on his skin where Eddie rests it, letting him burrow back into the blankets – and the last thing he feels is a gentle kiss to his cheek before sleep takes him again.

#everyone say thank you to a new friend helping me with this idea and looking this over for me 💛#steve harrington #Steve harrington has migraines #I just gave him the same migraines I have #eddie munson #is a sweetheart #don't worry guys #robin and Chrissy had a great picnic date and Chrissy def kissed her finally #robin tells Steve all about it on Sunday bc he DEF does not go to work on Saturday #too busy cuddling with eddie #ANYWAY #steddieangstyaugust #hurt/comfort #stranger things #speaking Saturday #valentine writes

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