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iluffyouxo · 2 years ago

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†råñ§þårêñ† §ðµl ☾ || Daryl Dixon ♡

the walking dead — daryl dixon x black, female oc

The sun rays burned against my otherwise pale brown skin, seeping its light into my pores to bring more discoloration to my skin. Though, from what I could tell, it was some time past five o’clock, the sky was still as bright and as blue as it was in the afternoon. My vision was blurred as I rubbed at my eyes, squinting just so to be able to make out what I was seeing past the blinding yellow and high heat waves. I could make out a tuft of black hair walking next to longer black locks. “Glenn? Michonne?” At the beckoning of their names, the pair looks towards me and, what I assume, smiles in my direction, too. “Shinra!” Glenn happily exclaims, and I find myself smiling at the fact that I can recognize the people I’ve come to know as family even without being able to see. I’m soon able to make out their faces once we’re about ten feet apart. Glenn’s smile falters as he takes in my dazed appearance. “Shinra, where are your glasses?” I puff out an exaggerated sigh. “I lost them on my last run. I dunno what I’m gonna do.”

“Did you ask Rick if you could go out and search for them?” Michonne inquires about her newly snagged up boyfriend, placing a hand on her hip. “Yeah,” I groan, “But, he says it’s too far for me to go searching on my own—especially now that I can barely see—so I’ll have to wait.” Glenn’s face falls, “Wait…? You’re an important asset to our group! Without you going out on runs, we won’t get half of the supplies we usually would with you!” If my skin tone allowed me I’d be beet red at the flattery that my brother just frantically spat out. “Since when do we Rhee’s compliment each other?” I grin. “Since the world went to shit and compliments became hard to come by,” he chuckles.

“However,” Michonne began, “Glenn is right. You’re important to our group. Now that you can’t see, we’re in some deep shit.” Leave it up to Michonne to get back to the task at hand without a single laugh, I think with a slight grin. “We should go help her look, M,” Glenn suggests. My eyes grow wide and I shake my head. “Rick would have a fit; there’s no way he’d let us go just to find my glasses.” The two glance down at me. “Well, he’s going to have to. Those are the only glasses that have your prescription.” My eyes grow as wide as saucers at the realization. “Oh, man, I have to find my glasses.”

•

“So, where we goin’ n’ why?” The engine roared loudly as we drove past a couple of Walkers stalking out of the woods, a deer leg in the clenching jaws of the one on the right. Despite the world glaring like static right now, I’m fairly certain it looked like my third grade teacher, Mrs. Bluereguard. I shake my head at the thought and glance forward. “We’re going to the grocery store about ten minutes out, we’re looking for my glasses,” I reply crossing my arms. Currently, I was sat in the passenger seat of one of our older cars. Michonne, Glenn and Carol were seated in the back seats while Daryl opted to be the driver (per his request). “Ya lost yer glasses?” Daryl snorts. “Yeah, just like you lost your motorcycle,” I snap back. “Oh, that’s rich, Velma.” I roll my eyes. “I’m the comedian of the year, Streetrat.” Daryl flinches at that and only shifts his gaze my way for a few seconds before turning back to stare out into the empty road. “Yeah, well, whatever,” he mumbles. I couldn’t help but to feel the shift in atmosphere. I had said something I shouldn’t have, and, man, was that a shitty feeling.

The grocery store was a in-the-middle-of-nowhere Wal-Mart nearly fifteen minutes away from Alexandria. Surprisingly, the store was still intact. Stuck in time as if a whole ass pandemic hadn’t happened four years prior. We hopped out of the car, gathering our weapons and bags for supplies, before splitting up into groups of two: Carol, Michonne and Glenn; Daryl and I. Michonne and Carol pulled me to the side before we left to, hopefully, find my glasses successfully. “You need to apologize to Daryl,” Carol starts. Michonne nods in agreement. My eyes slit in a confused glare. “What?” Michonne sighs. “You might not know it but, Daryl cares a lot about what you think of him.” I blink slowly. “What?” Carol hits the side of my head with the open palm of her right hand. “You’re so blind even with glasses. Daryl is so transparent, you’d have to be ridiculously dense to not catch on.” I inhale. “W h a t…?” The pair shakes their heads in unison with heavy, exasperated sighs. “You’ll get it eventually—“ They pick up their things and began to walk away, “—just remember to apologize, Shinra.” Glenn scrambles after them.

•

It was dark and moldy and dusty. It took everything in me to not sneeze in the awkward quietness of Daryl’s company as he stalked around corners in front of me in a hunting-like stance. He held his bow (loaded and ready) in front of him despite the fact that we had done a sweep of this place a mere two days ago. It was only until I saw the blurred image of babies that I recognized where we were. “Here! This is it! This is where I dropped my glasses!” The brunette turns to me and I don’t have to look at him to know that his crystal eyes were cold. I smile sheepishly. “Sorry…I just wanna see again.” Daryl sighs but moves forward, refusing to utter a single word. Did I really hurt his feelings? I wonder as I follow close behind, hand holding tight to the hilt of my machete. That’s when something catches the light of the flashlight that I was shining down to the mud-ridden checkered floor. “My glasses,” I smile.

Daryl bends down and picks them up before swiftly turning towards me. I had thought he was going to hand them to me but he just stared down at the glasses that he held by the edge of its right arm. “Daryl…?” I question. He slowly looks up at me. “D’you—umm…d’you really think that?” I raise an eyebrow in confusion. “Think what?” He looks at me for a while before turning back around. “Never mind. Forget it. Let’s jus’ find the others,” he grumbles. I stare at his back as we begin to walk again, completely disregarding the fact that he never handed me my glasses. Were the girls right? I hook my hand around his arm, the bare flesh sweaty and hot. “Daryl, please, tell me what’s wrong. What is it that you wanna know?” He shrugs off my hand. “‘S nothin’, Shinra.” I cut my eyes at him in annoyance before quickly picking up my pace and side stepping in front of him.

His pale blue eyes glisten and his cheeks were flushed a peach-like pink. There was another emotion other than just fear and anger on his face—the only two expressions that I’ve come to associate with Daryl. He looked sad…. I hadn’t seen him like this since Merle died…or maybe when the prison was blown into a distant memory…? “Daryl…are you okay…?” I was at a loss for words. Before I could think of something more clever to say, the sentence had already slipped from my tongue. His gaze was downcast and he looked even more lost than my own jumbled thoughts. After moments of unbearable silence he finally looks up at me, and it was obvious that he was hurting. “No.” His voice was rough and broken. I could barely recognize it. My gaze softens at his response but, before I could get the chance to reply, I hear Glenn beckoning my name. “Hey, Shinra, did you find your glasses?” I turn around and pull together the ghost of a reassuring smile, “Yeah, Daryl’s hanging onto them for me.” Michonne and Carol show up not too much later. “We should get going, then. We were able to gather a bit more supplies.” I nod in agreement. “Okay, let’s go.” By the time that I turn around again Daryl is already walking away. Well, what the hell was that all about?

•

Days have gone by and it was as if Daryl was avoiding me. I hadn’t seen him since he had handed me my glasses once we had returned to Alexandria without a word. I had to corner him somehow in some way, shape or form. It had taken me a while to figure out but the best time to approach him was when he was working on his motorcycle. At least once a week he was at Rick’s house tinkering away at the vehicle he had recently gotten back from another group of survivors. (Either that or he was working on his bow).

It was some time late afternoon that I had decided to go on a walk and spotted him in front of Rick’s garage. Autumn was beginning to kick in and there were a few fallen leaves that had graced his hair and shoulders as he sat squatted in front of his bike. His bow sat next to him in a protective manner. He shivers as a particularly cold breeze whips by. “Now is a good a’ time as any Shinra.” I jump slightly at the sudden voice in my ear. I turn to the right of me to spot Michonne stalking towards the house. She winks at me as she climbs up the steps and slips through the slightly cracked front door. I sigh and stuff my hands into the pockets of my oversized jean jacket. My steps are light as I stroll towards him, curiously watching his concentrated glare. I tower over him for a little while before sitting down across from him. “Y’know, you can’t avoid me forever, Daryl.” The brunette doesn’t acknowledge my words nor my presence for several minutes causing a heavy sigh to slip through my lips. I had begun coming to a stand, ready to leave and confront him another day, when he grips my hand tightly. “I’m sorry…please, don’t go.” I blink. This Daryl Dixon was way too out of character for my liking. It was beginning to freak me out.

“You’re really starting to scare me, Dixon. If there’s something wrong, ya gotta tell me.” Still he refuses to meet my gaze but his lips do part to speak. “D’ya mean it when you called me a streetrat? ‘S that what you really think a’ me?” His voice was rough and distressed but soft and hesitant. Nothing at all like the Daryl I know. My heart clenches in guilt. “Fucking hell, Daryl, of course not. That’s not what I think of you at all. It was just a joke. Geez, I—you should’ve told me you felt like this sooner, asshole.” I raise my hand to rest at the nape of his neck and I caress the skin there. I feel him tense at the intimate touch and, eventually, looks up at me. “No, what I think of you is that you’re misunderstood…as someone who’s never really known what family is, you’re finally learning when everything is a shit show.” I inch closer and place my hands on his hips. His eyes grow wide and his jaw goes slack. “I think that you’re truly important to this impromptu group of ours…without you I’m sure we would’ve starved years ago, and that Rick would’ve lost his way in how to lead without your input.” I slip my hands under his shirt and trail the past-healed scars of his abusive past along his tattooed back. I feel him tremble under my fingertips, his own hands gripping tight to my arms. He gasps. “I think that you’re a survivor. I think that you’re a fighter. And I think that you are strong. And I will never think of you as anything less. I’m sorry that I made it seem as if I did and hurt your feelings.”

And he kisses me. As inexperienced as I can guess that he is, his lips move sloppily against my own. But I don’t mind. His lips are chapped and soft. And he tastes of cherries and yesterday’s roasted squirrel. It was comforting. Something that I’ve come to know in this clusterfuck. When I pull away I feel a wet sensation on my cheek. I smile slightly and kiss at the few tears that he sheds. “Don’t doubt for a second that I can’t see right through you…you have such a transparent soul, Dixon.”

#black writers #black female reader #black oc #excerpt from a book i'll never write #fanfiction #blasian oc #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x oc #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead #ooc daryl dixon #« outofcharacter » ( ooc )#ooc tbt.#ooc character

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eatyourchancletas · 3 years ago

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SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not! (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce.

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw.

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation…

“looking for something?”

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action.

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room.

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list.

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.”

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n.

“alright, let’s go check out.”

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar.

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.”

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group.

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!”

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!”

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets?

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received.

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him.

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.”

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.”

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair.

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back.

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame.

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room.

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa.

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

#t.k chapter #tinted kisses #kpop x male reader #x male reader #choi san x male reader #san x male reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #series #top male reader #ateez #ateez x male reader #kpop imagines #kpop series #kpop fics #ateez fics

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theladyofdeath · 3 years ago

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Life As We Know It {Chapter 8}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian didn’t have to go into the bar until noon, so until Viviane arrived for her first day at 11:30, it was just him and Nyx.

The sun was out, and Cassian intended to take full advantage of it. Nyx was in his stroller and Cassian was jogging down the side of the Sidra. He’d only had him for the last half hour.

After Cassian’s breakdown last night, Nesta had apparently decided to let Cassian sleep in. Before Nyx could even cry, Nesta had gotten him up, ready, and fed before she left for work that morning.

He was mortified that she’d had to see that, that he’d broken down in front of her like that. But there was so much of Rhys looking at him, all the time and he’d been holding it in for so long. And knowing that he hadn’t been able to figure out what Nyx needed was the final straw last night.

After Nesta had hugged him, he’d finally gotten the strength to pull himself together, and he pulled from her grasp. He’d noticed the dress she wore to go out then, showing just as much skin as that damn towel had, and had made an excuse about being exhausted. He’d shut himself in his room, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep around two or three in the morning.

He wasn’t surprised she had barely wanted to see him this morning. She probably thought he was an irresponsible mess, probably figured she was better off taking care of Nyx on her own.

And maybe she was.

Nesta had some natural motherly instinct, just like Feyre and Elain had. It was an Archeron trait, Cassian had no doubt.

And although the Archeron sisters certainly hadn’t had a perfect upbringing, the three of them had always had each other.

Cassian couldn’t say the same.

His mom died young.

He’d never had a father.

Or siblings.

Or any other extended family.

He’d just had Rhysand and Azriel, and although fatherhood had come decently easy to both of them, Cassian couldn’t say the same for himself. He was the goofy, unpredictable uncle of the group, he was good in that role.

Not the ideal father figure.

Cassian picked up his speed.

Nyx giggled and threw his hands in the air.

Regardless of his mood, he couldn’t help but smile down at him.

He loved this kid, and he knew that this kid loved him. He may not be his father, but he would do his damndest to make sure he knew how much he was loved. Every damn day.

Cassian had just gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed when he heard the doorbell chime.

Nyx was standing in his playpen, holding onto the padded railing when Cassian rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“Viviane, hey,” he said, opening it wide enough for her to step through. She gave him a polite smile and he shut the door behind her. “Okay, so Nyx is over there, Nesta left a note on the fridge with our cell numbers, the number for her restaurant, my bar, uh, his pediatrician-.”

Viviane laughed quietly and headed for the playpen. “I’ll call you if I need anything, but I’m sure this little dude is going to be an angel.”

She reached down and scooped him up and Nyx did nothing but beam up at her.

“He’s in good hands,” Viviane went on when she saw the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

“I know,” he smiled, although hesitantly. “Nesta will be home at four-thirty.”

“We’re going to have fun,” Viviane promised, and Nyx giggled.

Cassian took that as cue to leave and hurried out the door. It was stressful, leaving him for the first time, alone with someone they had only just met.

He found himself wondering if Rhysand or Feyre would approve.

He prayed they did.

When he got to the bar, Kallias was already there, making sure everything was ready for opening.

“You’re two minutes late, boss,” he teased.

Cassian snorted. “New nanny. Had a hard time leaving.”

Kallias raised a brow. “Hot nanny?”

Cassian grinned as he came behind the bar. “Just your type, actually.”

Before the conversation could deepen, Cassian seeing the intrigue in Kal’s eye, he was heading to the store room, grabbing a few bottles to keep within reaching distance when they undoubtedly got a little busy over lunch.

“I like hot nannies,” Kallias hollered. “It would be nice of you to share.”

Cassian snorted, heading back up towards the bar. He didn’t reply, shaking his head as he glanced at his friend, and he set about cutting and readying the garnishes for drinks.

With a dramatic sigh, far louder than it needed to be for Cass to hear him, Kallias began turning on the televisions around the room, two on different sports broadcasts and one on a local music channel.

Maybe he would set Kallias up with Viviane.

Even he had to admit…they’d make a pretty damn cute couple.

It was just before 4:30 when Nesta pushed open the front door, prepared to find the house thrown into chaos.

But, it was spotless, Nyx was sleeping, and Viviane was on the couch, reading a book. She looked up at Nesta and smiled.

“You’re home,” she whispered, even though Nyx wasn’t in the room. “He’s been down for about forty-five minutes. We played hard today. I think he’s worn out.”

Nesta blinked, carefully stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “He was good?”

“Oh, he was great,” Viviane promised, standing up and closing her book with a bookmark placed neatly between it’s pages. “Although, his diaper rash is getting pretty bad. I changed him more often to try and keep him as dry and rash-creamed as possible. But, you may want to keep an eye out. I’ve seen worse, but you still may want to get a prescription from his doctor to help clear it up.”

Nesta hadn’t even noticed that Nyx had had a rash and chastised herself. “Yes. Absolutely, I’ll make him an appointment as soon as I can.”

Viviane smiled again, stopping to grab her purse where it sat by the floor of the couch and dropped her book inside. It was well loved, Nesta could tell, and for a moment, she considered asking what the pretty, young woman was reading.

And then she remembered who she’d been here alone with that morning.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh, gods, I hope Cassian was okay this morning. He’s not…always on his best behavior.”

Viviane brows bunched towards each other, confusion on her face. “I don’t follow?”

“I hope he didn’t say anything too inappropriate,” she rushed out. “He can be a bit much in the mornings, and-.”

“Oh, no, no,” Viviane interrupted, her crystalline eyes going wide. “No, he was an absolute gentleman. On good behavior.” She then added, “And please, don’t mistake my enthusiasm for this job, Nesta, I’m not interested in your husband or anything like-.”

It was Nesta’s turn to interrupt. “Husband?! No, no, Cassian isn’t my husband. Cauldron, no we just have to live together. He’s not even my boyfriend. I can barely stand the guy.”

Viviane hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed-.”

“It’s alright,” Nesta said, and knew her cheeks were red. “I could see how it would be easy to make that assumption.”

Viviane nodded and rocked back on her heels, uncomfortably. “Right, well...I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Nesta said, trying her best to give a convincing smile.

She knew she was failing.

Convincing smiles weren’t her specialty.

But, husband? As if she would ever marry a man like Cassian. They may have had a moment where they didn’t absolutely loathe each other the night before, but that’s only because he was having a complete mental breakdown.

Nesta may be a bitch, but she wouldn’t kick a man when he’s already down.

Well, at least not in that situation. In a different set of circumstances, perhaps she would.

Viviane let herself out and Nesta said her goodbyes, and shook her head.

Husband.

Oh, fuck no.

After a quick call to Nyx’s pediatrician, and an appointment made for the following afternoon, Nesta set out to make dinner. Nothing too crazy, just a new recipe she’d been toying with at the restaurant and she needed an unbiased opinion - one from someone whom she didn’t employ - to give her an honest opinion. She knew Cassian would be at the bar until eight-thirty or nine, but the chicken salad would be better chilled anyways.

Or she thought it was. She’d have to ask what he thought about that.

She was halfway through chopping up the roast chicken she’d spiced and marinated all day when the monitor to her left let out a lonely cry. Washing her hands, Nesta was hurrying up the stairs and found Nyx standing in his crib. He immediately reached for her, those blue eyes still drowsy with sleep, but Nesta knew he needed to be changed as soon as she got within sniffing distance. Hopefully he’d be sleepy enough that he wouldn’t fight her on the diaper change.

“What did Cassian feed you for lunch, kiddo?” She asked, scrunching her nose as she unsnapped the onesie he wore, and swapped out his diaper for a clean one.

True to Viviane’s word, Nyx had developed a splotchy, red rash on his bottom. After setting Nyx up in a swing by the door, Nesta took a few minutes to Google what a normal case of diaper rash looked like. Afterwards, she had wiped her search history and was thankful she’d gone ahead and called the pediatrician’s office, especially considering they were now closed until the following morning.

She also had to figure out a way to thank Viviane for her suggestion. Nesta almost felt like she owed the girl an apology for her initial reaction to her, based on her assumptions of Cassian. Not that she had any idea how Nesta had felt, but she still felt bad.

She may know a few things about Cassian Nazari, but she knew nothing about Viviane, not yet. Nesta should really give her the benefit of the doubt.

Even though such a thing was not her specialty.

The second they walked into the kitchen, Nyx was crying and reaching toward the fridge. Nesta put him in his high chair, letting him cry it out as she fixed him supper.

In the meantime, she dumped a pile of strawberry puffs on his tray.

He was immediately stuffing them into his mouth.

“You know, I’ve tasted those and they’re not all that great,” Nesta said, preparing him a small bowl of sweet potatoes.

Nyx looked at her and held up a star-shaped puff.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, but thank you for the offer.”

Nesta finished her salad and put the rest in the fridge for Cassian to eat once he got home. After taking a seat, and placing her salad and Nyx’s potatoes on the table, she dug in.

It was, obviously, delicious.

Nyx even seemed to be enjoying his sweet potatoes, though, as always more ended up on his high chair’s tray than in his mouth.

“You have an art for making a mess, buddy,” she said, shaking her head as she lifted another spoonful of the sweet potatoes to his mouth.

He took the bite into his mouth, and sprayed most of it back out in a raspberry.

She raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl down in front of her. “You’re just playing at this point, aren’t you?”

To say yes, in fact, he was, Nyx smacked a chubby hand into the mushed up mix of puffs and sweet potato on his tray.

“That means it’s bath time and then bed time,” she mused, wiping as much of him down as she could. She decided to go ahead and ditch his smeared onesie in the laundry room, and carried a diapered Nyx up to the bathroom.

A mostly uneventful bath later, she discovered Viviane must have been telling the truth about playing hard today. Nyx had been asleep before she’d made it through the second page of his favorite book, his pacifier falling out of his full, little lips.

She gently laid him down in the crib, and tiptoed downstairs to flip through bad reality TV until Cassian got home.

She hated how much she had thought about Cassian throughout the day. For once, it wasn’t about his body. Instead, it was about the fact that he had spent five minutes in her arms the night before, sobbing. She wasn’t sure what to think.

Cassian had a rough exterior.

He was known for his good looks and how many women those looks attracted. Since Nesta met him five years prior, there were only a handful of things she could say about Cassian.

He was beautiful, but that much was obvious.

He knew how to make beautiful instruments, which meant he was good with his hands.

Nesta would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about just how good he was with those hands.

Lastly, Cassian was cocky as hell. He was hot. He knew he was hot. And he had to convince everyone who didn’t think he was hot that he was hot.

But, one thing that Nesta hadn’t known about Cassian until the night before?

He cared.

He really, really cared.

And he was scared.

She had been willing to put aside their differences for Nyx. They’d come to that agreement when he’d begun to depend on them. But now, she wanted to make things work…for him. He was terrified of letting Rhys down, something she understood. Every time she thought of something she may have done wrong, all she could think about was how disappointed Feyre would be in her.

Except…she knew that wasn’t true. Just like she knew that Rhys would never be disappointed in Cassian. The fact that he’d stepped up, had been willing to care for Rhys and Feyre’s only child…

She just had to make sure Cassian believed it.

Nesta was half asleep on the couch when the door unlocked and opened, Cassian walking through. He blinked once upon seeing her, clearly not having expected her to be downstairs when he got home.

“Hey,” she said, stretching. “How was your day?”

He tossed his keys on the table by the door, looking around, pointedly not looking at her. “It was good. Where’s Nyx?”

“He’s been down since seven-thirty or so, Viviane did great today,” she said, watching him as he walked into the kitchen. “I owe you an apology. You were right, she’s good.”

She heard a grunt of acknowledgment as the fridge opened. He came back into the living room, shaking up a bottled protein shake and cracking it open.

“I made a roasted chicken salad,” she said. “I put leftovers in the fridge for you.” “That’s okay,” he said, voice low. “You can take it to work with you tomorrow. Don’t want to take your food.”

Nesta blinked. “I put it in the fridge for you-.”

“I’m tired,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “Night.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Cassian stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

I made you dinner. I stayed up to make sure you were alright. “Nothing. Just didn’t realize you were so insistent on being an asshole this evening.”

“An asshole?” he repeated. “I just got home, I’m tired, and now I’m an asshole?”

Nesta just shook her head, falling back on the couch. “Nevermind. Goodnight.”

Cassian just stood there, looking half like he wanted to go upstairs and half like he wanted to chuck the half-empty bottle at the back of her head. He’d already had a long, horrible day full of shitty, rude customers. He hadn’t even realized it was nearing Spring Break until the underage kids with shitty, fake ID’s had descended on the bar today. The amount of customers he had to turn away since they were practically children possibly outweighed the actual customers he and Kal had served.

He’d also had Nesta on his mind all day, on the pity she had to feel for him after he lost it the night before. The fact that she made him dinner was just proof of it, that he was right.

“You didn’t need to make me dinner,” he said, staring at the wall behind her head. “I can take care of myself, alright?”

Nesta’s eyes were closed, her arms crossed as she laid back on the couch. “I didn’t say that you couldn’t.”

“Just because I lost it for a minute last night, doesn’t mean that I’m helpless,” Cassian went on. “I’m just as capable of taking care of Nyx, of being a grown ass adult, as you are.”

Nesta’s eyes opened, then, and she slowly looked over to him. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, simply.

“Really?” Nesta asked. “Because you’re acting like a gods damned child right now.”

Cassian snorted as he shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for you tonight. Goodnight.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nesta snapped.

“It’s all you think I’m good for, so I guess I may as well act like it, too,” he called out, not turning back to look at her.

The words struck her, made her feel two feet tall, especially considering how she’d begun to regard him instead. But she wasn’t able to stop the bite of her words as she snapped, “Oh, fuck you.”

Cassian didn’t say a word as he topped the stairs and headed down the hall.

She almost wished he’d slammed the door, almost wished he’d made a spectacle of being angry and shutting her out again, after what she’d thought may have been progress the night before.

It was almost that much worse that his door shut with a soft click.

#nessian #nesta #cassian #modern au #fanfic #sjm #collab #shara #shacmc

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shoutaaizawas · 4 years ago

Text

↳ aizawa shouta x reader → ❝calm❞

summary: you don’t get along with aizawa but are stuck with him on a mission. one that requires you to spend the night in a hotel. of course you not only have to share a room but a bed. word count: 1.3k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers, only one bed, nightmare comfort, do i need to say more? a/n: i’m really glad i was able to write one more thing for this year, i know it’s been a while so i went for all my favorite tropes. i can’t thank everyone enough for following and supporting me, thank you guys so much. i’m looking forward to writing more and hopefully more consistantly. much love to everyone, i hope you’re all staying safe and healthy.

Aizawa Shouta couldn’t stand you and the feeling was mutual. It was like you were one to dislike people, in fact, you got along with most but there was something about him. Maybe it was because you were having a bad day when you first met and he brushed you the wrong way. Or perhaps it was because you disagreed on the first mission you worked together on. Or maybe it was because he returned your hostility. You couldn’t exactly place a specific reason but you didn’t get along with the man.

Unfortunately, the two of you were paired together on a mission. Not just a get it done in a night and call it a day mission, no it was the type of mission that had you spending the night in a hotel.

“I told you to go left and you went right!” You shouted at him, chest heaving at the exhaustion of chasing down one of the criminals you were after.

“Just because you’re a high ranked pro you think you’re always right.” He said back nearly rolling his eyes.

“Well I’m sorry please tell me how right you were by showing me the target we were after. Oh, that’s right you can’t because you didn’t get him.” You huffed. It felt like no matter what you did it always lead to an argument.

The day had been frustrating, you had lost the target you were after and it seemed you and Aizawa butted heads as much as possible. You could not wait to get into your hotel room and enjoy some peace and quiet and a good night’s rest.

“Room 509.” The woman said at the counter at the hotel lobby, handing the card to Aizawa.

“509 and?” You questioned waiting for the second key car.

“I’m sorry there’s only one room under Aizawa.” She said.

“Did you try my name?” You offered your last name.

“I’m sorry there’s nothing under that name.” She said. You let out a sigh. Just perfect.

“C’mon,” Aizawa said turning. You followed along stewing in your angst. This mission couldn’t get any worse. It could.

Upon entering the hotel room you both found that there was only one bed. It took everything in you to not scream out in frustration. Not to mention there wasn’t even a couch or a chair. As much as you hated the idea of sharing a bed with Aizawa you were not about to sleep on a hotel room floor.

“You can shower first.” He said.

“Oh, thank you.” You said trying not to let too much of a sarcastic tone slip out.

Dropping your bag on the counter of the bathroom you tried to relax. You had a big day ahead of you and you needed to take whatever relaxation you could when you could have it. You wouldn’t get your own bed but at least you had the hot water of the shower to wash away your day.

After the shower, you changed into your bedclothes. Unfortunately, you had been planning on having your own room so you brought shorts and a tank top to sleep in. You would have brought a shirt and sweats.

Returning to the room you tried to ignore the once over you got from him.

“All yours.” You said walking to the bed and pulling the covers open. You climbed into the bed turning on your side facing the outside of the bed.

It wasn’t long until the shower turned off and the door opened. You could feel the other side of the bed move down under his weight. Despite the fact you were both far away from each other as possible it still felt awkward to be in the same bed together.

Sleep didn’t come easy to you but tonight you were thankful to drift off to sleep quickly.

Blood, there was blood everywhere. The pain burned through you blinding out every other sense you had. They were all dead. You couldn’t save them and it was your fault.

“You’re okay. It’s okay.” A voice calmed you. You woke up to a dark room, stray beams of moonlight lit up the room. Arms were wrapped around you, the weight of the gesture was comforting despite your panicked state.

Quick breaths escaped you as you tried to ground yourself.

“Where are you?” Aizawa asked. It took a moment to answer that question. The nightmare had been so bad, it was one you had before.

“The hotel room.” You said, voice weak.

“Why?” He asked. You recognized what he was doing, he was trying to ground you in reality. Help you separate the dream from real life.

“We’re on a mission.” You said.

“What do you see in this room?” He asked.

“The bedside table, the lamp, a desk, a phone.” You answered.

“Good job.” He said. You were shocked at the sense of accomplishment his words brought you. Your breathing was even now but you were still spooked.

Now that you had calmed down you realized the full extent of the situation, Aizawa a man you couldn’t stand had you cradled to his chest and was doing all he could to help ground you and pull you out of the state you had been in.

It was hard to imagine that he was so soft and caring. The way he held you was unsettling, not in a bad way though. It felt right and it felt wrong that it felt right.

Why was being so close to him making you feel things for him that weren’t disdain or disgust? Even in the dark room it was all too easy to notice how handsome he was? How had you never noticed that before?

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” His voice was low, hesitant. You weren’t expecting that.

Aizawa always rubbed you the wrong way which had snowballed into your current feelings for him but now you were second-guessing it all.

Even if you argued with him it didn’t change who he was. He was a good hero, not a hero that did it for fame or money. He truly cared about helping people. So much that he taught kids how to be heroes. Aizawa was a good man with many admirable traits. He even had a good sense of humor. Now you were questioning how blind you could have been not seeing him this whole time.

“I think I’ve been unfair to you.” You said. “I’m not really sure why we don’t get along.”

Aizawa let out a small chuckle that made your heart flutter.

“I think we just got off on the wrong foot.” He said, his face was so close to yours that you could feel his minty breath on your face. “Why don’t we start fresh? I’m Aizawa Shouta.” He said.

“Nice to meet you Aizawa Shouta.” You said before leaning up to meet his lips with yours. The kiss was brief but filled with passion. He pulled back, hand brushing against your cheek.

“Do you want to talk about the nightmare?” He asked, thumb brushing gently against your skin.

“No, can you just hold me?” You asked.

“I can do that.” He said.

Aizawa laid down, pulling you onto his chest. His arms wrapped around you tightly, making you feel safe. You returned the gesture and held him close, nuzzling into his chest.

“I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.” He said, his voice soft.

“Thank you, Shouta.” You said, his hand brushing up and down your back in a soothing manner. His presence had gone from something irritating to something that made you feel calm.

You didn’t know what to expect after tonight but you suspected missions with Aizawa were going to be a lot less unpleasant going forward.

taglist: @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis-but-more-otaku @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bkghatesyou @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia @moon-write @todominica @why-so-red @kvichisaki @curiouslilbeast @izukukozume @maat-the-prescriptive

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa #aizawa shouta #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader

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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

Note

Idk your feelings but what about a student confiding in Aizawa about being part of LGBTQ? I'm not able to come out in my household because of my parents views, but it feels like Aizawa would be a good person to confide in.

”i’ll always support you”

pairing: platonic!shouta aizawa x platonic!gender neutral reader

cw: platonic!, angst, fluff

word count: 1000+

a/n: this is something different, i hope this is something you liked and i know it can be hard to be yourself when you’re hiding your sexuality from your parents, but i hope you know and anybody else who doesn't have support that i’m always here to talk and i will never discriminate against someone just because of there sexuality

summary: in which you confide in your teacher about your sexuality and he brings you the support your parents never gave you

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The sound of the class being dismissed filled the air; you’d have to go home. A home that didn’t feel like home, the stigma around your sexuality that you had been hiding for so long now. The mocking from your parents, the threats of even coming out had arisen in your household. Even with having gotten into the best school for becoming a pro hero, you’d thought it’d bring about your parents to be proud of you. But if you ever confessed about your true sexuality, the disgust and horror would erupt from them, even kicking you out.

You were never yourself, even at school you were worried people would find out and relay it back to your parents. The fear of fighting villains was incomparable to your fear of coming out, you slowly packed your bags. You didn't want to be at home, you wanted a safe space and at the moment in time it felt like being alone in the room was it.

“Y/n, class has ended.” Aizawa spoke in his sleeping bag, he wanted to leave as soon as he could. Knowing he could get in another nap before the meeting regarding the recent Hosu incident that had happened prior.

You couldn't admit it but being away from your house for the week, with a pro hero you had gotten comfortable enough with to act yourself had been relieving. Being out and helping the pro heroes had made you happy and you didn't have to try and hide your true self. You look at your teacher, he had been nice most of the time and you had been thinking about revealing it all to someone.

He looked back at your small form, he always thought you’d become an amazing pro hero, with a quirk like yours and the smarts. He had hoped that you wouldn't become some unknown hero, he saw that you’d become better than him in a couple years. But seeing how your eyes were tense, the normal calm student he had seen for months now had become almost scared. “Y/n.” He repeated your name.

“Can I...can I tell you something?” Your stuttering had made the man get out of his sleeping bag, he walked towards you seeing how tears formed from your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He spoke quickly looking at you, “is everything okay?”

You turn to face him, he sees how you tried to wipe the tears away, trying to stop the sobs. “I...I…” You could barely breathe, heavy breaths just trying to form the words, but how could you tell him, would he react how your parents might? A prominent feeling in your chest made it harder to breathe, the confident person you were had been swept away and you became a scared child.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Aizawa directed you to the chair, making you sit down, you were weak, and he could see more tears form in your dull eyes.

You felt yourself fidget more, your leg tapping away as your fingers played with each. He noticed how your lip quivered, bringing his hand to your shoulder to provide some comfort. “I...I don’t normally, cry, sorry sir.” You mutter as he gives you a saddened look.

“You don’t need to apologise for crying.” He tries to meet your gaze but even then, sitting opposite you, you felt scared, fearful even that he would send you away as an unknowing teen. “What’s going on?”

“I’m (insert sexuality).” You hiccupped out, the way he looked at you softly with a bright smile on his face.

“Were you worried about the class and I wouldn't accept you?” He questions rubbing your shoulder in familiar comfort. “Y/n, whoever you like, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to be an amazing pro hero one day.”

You hadn't said a word, still anxious about it all. “Is there something more?” The Aizawa you had met on the first day, so filled with coldness and a lack of apathy. But now bringing you a comfort you hadn't gotten from your parents; he was providing you with the adult familiarity that you needed.

“My...my parents don’t…” You hesitated not knowing if you should even talk about family matters with him. You saw how he urged you to continue, wanting to hear your voice and how you felt surrounding it all. “They don’t accept that kind of thing.”

“Y/n.” He whispers softly, “the class and I will always support you, you know, that right?” It was comforting but you still felt on edge with it all. “You haven’t told your friends yet?”

You shake your head, how could you admit to him that you felt fearful of even telling your friends, people who you were supposed to trust. People who were supposed to support you and have your back. “I’d never pressure you to tell them, but just know that they’re reaction will be like mine, if you need to talk some more about this, we can talk about it tomorrow, your parents will be worried about you and it's summer break soon. Hopefully, you'll be more comfortable when we go on that training camp.” You nod grabbing your stuff.

Just as you walked out you heard your name again, “Y/n, your sexuality really doesn't change my opinion on you, I’ll always support you.”

It was something you needed to hear; he still saw you in the same way. You would always be the future pro hero that he had high hopes for. The tears stopped coming from your eyes as you walked out from the gates. You were happy to say the least but the sight that had stopped you in tracks was confusing. Midoriya, Iida, Todoroki and Ururaka all stood talking, you gave a confused look before Midoriya spoke, “we didn’t know how long you’d be, but we waited to walk home.”

You smiled at the group, Aizawa was right they would accept you. You were there friend after all, they’d bring you comfort that your parents would never give you. True friends wouldn’t go against you and mock you, hell even Bakugo would accept you and he hated everybody in general. “You guys didn’t have to wait for me.”

Ururaka was the one to speak next, “that’s what friends are for.” You smiled at the group as they beckoned for you to follow them all. Walking through the sunset with friends you knew would truly accept you for who you really were.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #my hero academia #bakugohoex #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa x reader

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pynkhues · 4 years ago

Note

I hope you post your c & c Christmas fic! I am having a horrible Christmas alone bc of covid 19 and could use a little cheering up.

I’m so sorry you had a horrible Christmas alone, anon! And I know this is a few days late and a few dollars short, but I hope the first scene (and it’s a doozy of a scene at 3k words haha) from it helps?

I’m trying to finish the fic now, so fingers crossed I have it all up by tomorrow. It’s ended up being really long, haha, so hopefully people still want a monster Christmas fic four days after Christmas! 😊

“No.”

And damn, if Rio doesn’t pop an eyebrow at that.

“No?”

The question is enough to make Jane’s bottom lip wobble as she rocks in her galoshes, the sound of her wet socks squelching inside them making somethin’ in Rio’s head twitch, because shit – he’d tried to get her out of them at the back door. Tried to pick her up and cart her upstairs to the tub, ready to wash the snow Kenny had shoved down the back of her parka off, but she hadn’t wanted that neither. Had been content to dart beneath his arm the second he’d lugged Marcus up with his other; even more content to leave a trail of sludgy footprints behind her through the kitchen like she wanted him to follow, and he hadn’t exactly.

Or y’know, he had until she’d dashed past him again and he’d gotten a hand into the hood of her jacket.

“So you don’t want to get in there with him, huh?” Rio asks now, jerking his head back to where Marcus is already sprawled out in the tub, fuckin’ blissed out, his skinny arms slung over the rim and his body submerged in the steamy, sudsy water ‘til he looks like some eight-year-old mafia don. It’d make Rio grin – does – until he meets Jane’s look again, her bottom lip still wobbling as she furiously shakes her head, her rabbit beanie slipping down her icy wet hair.

Rio frowns.

“You ain’t cold?”

And shit, he knows she is.

Knows it because the second he’d pulled up to Glenvale Elementary School today to pick ‘em up, she’d been cold. A last-day-of-school snowball fight havin’ ballooned out until the faculty were left frantically trying to dry off forty shivering kids, and whatever, Rio had thought. It was good for them. Work hard, play hard gotta start somewhere, and he’d plucked Jane and Marcus’ tooth-chattering selves out of the fray and blast the car heaters the whole way home, but the second they’d tumbled out of the car, Kenny had thrown a snowball himself, and a fresh fight had begun.

And okay, maybe he should’ve stopped it sooner than he did, but he had Mick on call and the last drops to organise before the holidays, because apparently people buyin’ up supplies of prescription drugs as gifts for sick family members is a straight up thing (and call Rio Father Christmas, because damn if he ain’t deliverin’ on the fuckin’ miracle. Ain’t even price gouging, although that’s more because Elizabeth had turned a particular shade of purple at the prospect and he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he’d bloated prices, but - - damn, it would’ve put at least two of the kids through college.)

Point is, maybe he meant to pull ‘em in after half an hour, but by the time he finally got back outside it’d been close to two full hours and the kids were all red-nosed and tremblin’, their clothes soaked through, the evening just starting to yawn above them to swallow the last of the light whole.

“No,” Jane repeats now, sullen this time, and Rio feels his nostrils flare in irritation as he stares back down at her. At least the room is warm enough, he thinks, watching the steam curl the ends of her wet hair, the ebb of the heating warping the air as it pours from the floor vents. The kids’ bathroom is one of the rooms they’ve refit over the last year – a pet project of Elizabeth’s that Rio had found himself involved in, mostly because he almost got as much of a thrill out of inventing organisational systems as she did. The big, low white tub set back against the wall with polka dotted wallpaper above it, gold light fittings and a long, deep blue vanity that had as much storage as they could ever need. Still – it didn’t stop one of Emma’s bikini’d Barbie’s and a fuckin’ deluge of rubber sea animals from taking up space around the room.

“I’m a grown up,” Jane adds, sniffing wetly, pulling his attention back, and Rio’s second eyebrow raises to meet his first. “Grown ups don’t have baths with boys.”

“Om has baths with daddy,” Marcus says helpfully from the tub, and Rio gestures back at him, taking in the way Jane just huffs out a breath and stomps her little foot against the white honeycomb tiles and it figures, Rio thinks, that one of Elizabeth’s kids would end up with the fuckin’ stubborn powerball in that genetic lottery.

Figures it’d be Jane too.

“That’s different, they have to share everything because they’re a mommy and an od.”

At least the others ain’t this stubborn, he reminds himself, scrubbing a hand back over his head. At least he’d been able to pile ‘em up with towels and sweats and direct them to the downstairs bathroom while he handled Jane and Marcus, but then again - -

He trains his ears to hear ‘em – Emma and Danny’s giggles sounding through the floor beneath his feet, loud even over the downpour of the shower, and then:

The flush of a toilet.

Kenny screams.

Right.

Lotta other balls in that genetic lottery too though, huh?

He exhales sharply.

“A’ight,” he says, looking back down at Jane’s pink little face. “You don’t gotta share a bath since you’re all grown, but you can’t stay in your wet clothes.”

And it’s weird then – the look that Jane levels him with. Somethin’ too hard in the set to her mouth and too open in her wide green eyes, and Rio’s frown deepens, brow furrowing, because there’s somethin’ in that look that tells him this ain’t entirely just about stubbornness, when suddenly Marcus chimes in from the tub.

“Soup.”

And shit, no, they’re havin’ pizza for dinner – Rio’s already ordered it – but before he can say as much, Jane’s nose is wrinkling up and she’s rolling those too wide eyes and that hard set to her mouth is softening, and huh, Rio thinks. They ain’t talking about dinner either.

“Soup doesn’t have bubbles, Marcus.”

“This one does!” he tells her easily, and Rio turns to watch his son glide his hands through the bathwater, catching soapsuds, a too-innocent grin on his face. “It’s an alien soup. Like - - like from Neptune. I got abducted! I’m gonna get eaten! Help me, Officer Janey!!”

With that, he slides down into the water, flails his skinny legs up above the surface, fake yelling, and Rio huffs, exasperated as water spills over the top of the tub, but can’t quite hide the twitch at his lips when he sees Jane’s look tear – the urge to play too already warring on her face as she steps closer.

“No, Marcus! We can play later, not - - ”

“Help!! Hel - - blergh.”

Marcus splutters around a mouthful of soapsuds, and Rio does roll his eyes this time, grabbing a washcloth from the sink to wipe his son’s face.

“You gonna help him, Officer Janey?” he asks, glancing back from Marcus and they can all see Jane’s resolve weakening. She shifts her weight, puffs out her cheeks, and then, just like that, she caves.

“Okay, Sir Marcus, I’ll get you home for Christmas.”

And thank fuck for that, Rio thinks, keeping his expression carefully in check as Marcus grins in delight, squirming back up the side of the tub to make room for her. It only takes a minute for her to peel off her jacket, leaking freezing water everywhere in the process, and Rio edges forwards, starting to help her when his cell phone buzzes in the back pocket of his jeans. He pulls it out, checks the number, and hooks it under his ear as he crouches down beside Jane.

“’ey,” he says, and immediately he’s met with a wave of sound from the chaos of the mall – the tinny, tinkling melodies of Christmas songs and the thrum of shoppers, the distant sounds of static announcements and the too-close bray of Annie’s laugh, but it’s Elizabeth who replies, her voice clear and clean as a bell.

“Hi. Did we decide on the flatware set for your sister in the end? They’ve got one on sale here at this cute little kitchen place, and - - ”

Rio sighs, annoyance sparking at the fraying edges of his patience. He lifts up Jane’s leg as she dangles herself over the edge of the tub, pulling off one of her galoshes, and then the other, cringing when her soaked pink socks settle back on the floor, leaving a smear of dirty water on the tiles.

“We decided no, mami,” he tells Elizabeth over the line, pulling off Jane’s socks in one rough motion as Jane makes a grab for a rubber fish. “We already got her the - - ”

“Towels, I know, but she didn’t have enough forks for us when we were there last week, and if that’s going to be a regular thing now, I really think we should get her the extra flatware set.”

And shit, Rio thinks, moving to kneel so he can peel off Jane’s sopping wet sweater and shirt as she kicks off her jeans and undies, it figures.

It figures because Elizabeth’s been pressed about Carmen’s place since Carmen and Matt finally separated back in August, splittin’ up their assets and sellin’ the house. It had been a long time comin’, and Rio couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased about it – after all, him and Carmen hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye, but shit, she was his sister and she was a boss bitch, and Matt had always been the sort of belly crawlin’ fuck who’d soured at any woman who was more of one than him.

Anyway, it didn’t take all that much to figure out that Elizabeth was watchin’ Carmen’s marriage dissolve and her new life as a single mom with the sort of projecting fixation that - - shit - - just dredged up baggage.

Still, it was kind of fuckin’ funny too to watch Elizabeth try to help Carmen in the way she wouldn’t let anyone do for her back when she finally called it with her own dumbass ex.

“Yeah, those towels weren’t cheap,” Rio says into the phone, standing up and grabbing Jane underneath her icy arms to swing her into the hot water beside Marcus, letting her eyes slip shut briefly when Jane kicks a fresh wave of hot water onto the floor of the bathroom.

“Neither is cooking dinner for seven extra people.”

Grabbing his cell properly now that Jane’s in the tub, Rio drops his free arm down, grabbing Jane and Marcus’ wet clothes off the floor and striding out of the room, down the stairs and beelining for the laundry. He grins, pleased, when he sees Emma’s already put her own snow clothes in the washing machine, even if she’s managed to spill washing powder all over the floor in the process of it.

“One thing,” he sing-songs over the bustle of the mall behind Elizabeth’s voice. “Everyone’s gettin’ one thing. If you want to get Carmen the flatware set, that’s two things.”

And he can’t even see her, but he can feel Elizabeth bristle down the line.

“I might not be as quick with the books as you, but I do know basic math, thank you.”

Which - - shit, not what he meant. He grabs a rag out of the laundry cabinet, dropping down to wipe up the powder.

“Nah, you ain’t hearin’ me. I know you, Elizabeth. You get Carmen two things, you gettin’ everyone two things – Aida, my mom, your sister, your friend – we ain’t doin’ that this year. We decided that.”

Vaguely he can hear her sister laugh over the line again, and then Ruby say:

What about…

“No, I think she has one of those already,” Elizabeth replies, and Rio sighs, tossing the rag into the washing machine with the kids’ clothes. Vaguely, he can hear footsteps down the hall behind him, Jane and Marcus still playing in the tub, the shower a few rooms up, and he still has some business calls to make tonight, and damn, weren’t they going to figure out which presents were from Santa and which were from them later too? He checks his watch and frowns.

“Elizabeth, what time you comin’ home?”

“Soon,” she tells him quickly, then, to one of the others: “No, that’s too much.”

Suddenly, a cold little hand grabs his wrist, and Rio glances down to see Emma clutching at it, already decked out in her pink fleecy sweats and rainbow fuzzy unicorn slippers, which’d be fine if her hair wasn’t hanging wet, soaking into the back of her dressing gown. He frowns, pushes his cell between his shoulder and head again to pull a hair elastic off his wrist and tie her hair back up off her neck.

“Od, can we watch Frozen tonight?”

And Rio briefly blanches at that, but grunts in affirmation, letting her go only for Emma to come back and cling to his hand again, splaying his fingers so she can fit her own between his. He blinks down at her curiously, picking up his cell again with his other hand, because damn, it ain’t like she’s never held his hand before – she’s always been a touchy kid – but he figured she’d be out of sight the second he told her she could put Frozen on. Like she’s seen the look on his face, she squeezes his hand and sidles closer until she’s practically on top of his leg, and so Rio crouches down instead, lugging her up and carrying her out of the laundry and over to the living room, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as she clings to his side.

“Annie, stop it,” Elizabeth says, annoyance growing in her tone, and Rio rolls his eyes, depositing Emma on the couch, and okay, maybe the kid’s just tired, he thinks, watching as she nestles back in the cushions, her big blue eyes only half-lidded.

He flicks on the TV while Elizabeth babbles to Annie and Ruby in his ear, like she’s half-forgotten to hang-up, and he’s about to do it himself instead when he hears the name Dean pop outta Annie’s mouth, which - -

Fuck that.

His jaw tightens, loosens, tightens again.

“Thought we weren’t doin’ all of that this year,” he hums, tryin’ to keep his voice light as he loads up Frozen on Disney+ and grabs one of the blankets to toss over Emma, because wasn’t that dumbass ex of hers off in Nevada this year with his new girl’s family?

“What?”

And sure, play dumb, baby, Rio thinks, striding out of the room as Emma wriggles down in the blanket. He heads back towards the corridor, hearing Jane squeal somewhere upstairs and Marcus laugh as he moves towards the downstairs bathroom.

“Thought we had the place and everyone in it to ourselves.”

“We do,” she tells him quickly, and he can hear her moving herself, walkin’ maybe – her sister’s voice getting further away.

“We ain’t changin’ plans.”

Because fuck – they’re a week out from Christmas, and they had shit on lock this year. Had decided on that together too after the whole mess of last year with Elizabeth having to do the six hour round trip to take the kids to South Haven after Dean’s car had broken down (fuckin’ allegedly, Rio thinks with a snort, because he could smell that bullshit a mile away).

“The plan isn’t changing,” she promises, raising her voice a little to be heard over the roaring opening chords of Last Christmas. “We’re still hosting everyone, and the kids are staying with us, it’s just - - something’s just come up which is - - I mean. It’s really not anything you need to worry about. I’ll tell you when I get home.”

Exhaling harshly, Rio scrubs a hand back over his head again, and shit – if this means Dean’s comin’ again - -

He pauses, distracted suddenly by the sight of Danny bouncing from foot-to-foot outside the bathroom, shaking with cold in his parka and beanie, melted snow dripping from his hair, waiting still for his turn in the bathroom. With a grunt of irritation, Rio strides up the hall, banging heavily on the door only to hear a strained in a minute from Kenny through the crack, and Jesus, Rio thinks.

Teenagers.

He covers the mouthpiece of the phone, glancing down at Danny who just shifts his weight again, snow-pale except for his bright red nose as he stares up at him.

“Use our bathroom,” he tells him, jerking his head upstairs towards his and Elizabeth’s en suite and Danny blinks owlishly back at him, shivering still, and Rio jerks his head in instruction again because it’d be just his luck to have to cart the kid to hospital for hypothermia again.

“Is everything okay there?” Elizabeth asks as someone says is this all today, ma’am?

“Fine,” Rio says shortly, and then, just to annoy her: “I’ll tell you when you get home, yeah?”

And it works, if her huff is anything to go by, and then when he hears cash or card? his lip curls.

“Elizabeth, don’t get the flatware set.”

The last thing he hears before she hangs up is the ring of the cash register.

#there's a lot going on it which you can probably tell from this excerpt haha #it ended up being a bit plot heavy #and a bit angsty #but still v christmas-y #and of course with a nice big hea #the center and circumference #fic asks #my fic #welcome to my ama #Anonymous

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 5 years ago

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Crying ‘Cause I Love You

A/N: Hey everyone! I have a lot of school work to do rn so I won’t be able to write for another couple days, but I just posted something with Chris and I wrote this with Henry Cavill a while ago and thought I’d share to hopefully tide everyone over. Thanks for reading and requesting! 💕

Summary: Henry and his girlfriend are getting ready for a night out, and Henry was finally going to tell his girlfriend he loves her, but Kal has other ideas.

“You look beautiful,” Henry beamed at his girlfriend, eyes shining with nothing but pride in them, as he watched her curl her last piece of hair and unplug the wand. She always looked at him like he was her entire world, and this was no different. The stars in her eyes matched the gems in her ears and around her neck, her dress dark blue and perfectly matched to his suit. She was perfect.

“Only the best for my Prince Charming,” she replied sweetly. She wanted to hug him, but she didn’t want to crunch her hair. “Are you ready?”

“Just looking for my cuff links. Would you mind locking up? And re-filling Kal’s bowl?” Henry was starting to take his tie from where he had it hung on his arm, but it was too long. Henry’s beloved Akita nipped at the tie until it was in his mouth, and Henry barely even noticed until he reached for it. Kal was such a shadow, always nudging at Henry’s legs, that it was easier to notice when he wasn’t there.

“Kal! Give Daddy back his tie!” She scolded, reaching for the dog. Instead he wanted to play with it, and promptly turned his head away. “I’ll get him.” She stood on her toes to kiss her boyfriend’s cheek. She then exchanged places with him as he continued searching for his cuff links. The bathroom was wrecked with evidence of her – her makeup, her curling wand, her pins. He took her lip gloss that she left, knowing she would want it and she’d hate herself forever if she didn’t have it. She was staying with him for the wrap party, but had enough things for the whole weekend because somebody needed to drop Kal off at the groomer’s. Henry would look around and just smile. Finally, all of the empty space in his life was full. She was like a puzzle piece, he thought, and he wanted her to stay. That night he had planned to tell her he loved her for the first time. Part of him thought it would be when they were drunk at the party, or on the way home when they were in the back of a car and she would fall asleep on him. Or maybe it would be when she was buried in the corner of his bed. But he was going to tell her, he had to. And that’s what he was thinking about when he heard a smack. It was loud, and unmistakably skin against a hard surface.

“Shit,” he murmured, turning to the stairs. Kal was standing at the bottom of the stairs, tie in his mouth, and his girlfriend was standing there, in the doorway to the living room. “Baby?”

“I’m okay!” She declared with a whimper. Her hand flew to her nose as a single drop of blood made its way onto her skin. Blood. Oh, shit. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Ow.” She was starting to cry, leaning against the doorway, and Henry’s feet carried him over to her.

“What happened? Let me look,” Henry said, raising his hands to her face. He turned into a protective boyfriend, instantly, as he gently took her hand away from her face and cupped her cheek with his other hand. Her nose was most definitely broken, blood gushing out of it and onto her hand.

“Ow,” she whined, “I think it’s broken.”

“Yeah, darling, I think it is. We need to get you to the emergency room.”

“But what about your wrap party?” She asked. Henry walked into the bathroom underneath the stairs, grabbing a hand towel, and brought it back to her. He put it against her nose.

“It’s perfectly alright. Just don’t take pressure off, I’m going to get the car keys.” He promptly ran to the kitchen to find his keys, and when he did, he raced back to them. “I’ll deal with you later,” he said to the dog as he picked up their two phones from the chargers. He slipped one of them into his pocket and the other into her hand when he met her again.

“This hurts,” she cried out. Her mascara was starting to run, messing up the makeup she’d spent a full hour on, as Henry walked her out to the car and got her in. He shut her door before shutting his own, turning the car on. After a minute of tense driving down the cobblestone street, he heard a noise. His eyes flew over to her, worried something else had happened, but it wasn’t a cry. It was a laugh.

“Are you laughing? Or crying?” He asked, half-worried that she’d hit her head, too. He took his hand off of the steering wheel after a turn and placed it in between her thighs at the slit in her dress, not even thinking to adjust the air so she wouldn’t be cold.

“Both,” she winced as she pushed at her nose harder. “I found a meme.” Henry rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“I’ll never understand that,” she answered in response.

“You’ll hurt more if you don’t stop laughing.” Her smile faded and she went back to holding her nose. Henry considered himself luck that the closest emergency room was just down the street and around a corner, because he was really starting to think she’d hit her head as she smiled at another meme on what looked like Instagram.

Henry pulled into the hospital and grabbed the parking ticket, shoving it in his dashboard. He then stopped the car and put it into reverse, trying to back into the spot. He looked behind him, placing his hand on the back of her seat.

“You’re really hot when you back up,” she said. Henry’s eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“I’m starting to think you have concussion, too. How hard did you hit that wall?”

“Ask Kal,” she scoffed in response. Henry turned the car off and went to get her from the passenger side, then walked her in. He instructed her to go sit down, thankful that the place was nearly empty on a Thursday night at 9 PM. He got into the line and was handed a tablet to fill out her information on, and took a seat beside her. She was still in her dress, hair still curled, and she leaned her head on Henry’s shoulder as he started typing.

“What’s your birthday, darling?” He asked. “I know the month, I forgot if it’s the thirteenth…”

“Fifteenth,” she answered. The tears were starting to come to her eyes again as her nose throbbed. “It’s starting to really hurt.”

“We’ll get you in, don’t worry.” He spoke as quietly as he could, noticing a sleeping child in one corner of the room. He hated hospitals, he remembered, but he was too stressed about the fate of his love’s nose to worry about it. He finished typing and brought it back to the nurse at the front desk, sitting back down beside his girlfriend. He put his arm behind her head, letting her lean into him again. His shirt could get bleached if it got blood on it, he decided. She shut her eyes, trying not to cry any more, as Henry took out his phone to text his friend that they weren’t going to make it because his dog had decided to be an absolute menace. And then he texted his neighbor, asking if they would mind watching the house. And then he turned to his girlfriend and kissed her.

The nurse called her name a few minutes later, just as Henry’s neighbor was texting him that he would be over to the house to set the alarm in a minute. Henry helped his girlfriend walk through until they were sitting her down to take her blood pressure. She cringed when they took blood from her arm, but didn’t need Henry to hold her hand. Another nurse showed them to an exam room and took her insurance card, leaving her alone with Henry.

“I’m sorry I ruined your wrap party,” she said. Henry chuckled.

“That’s not what I’m worried about right now. I’m worried about your nose.”

“Will you still think I’m pretty if it’s broken?” He looked over at her.

“I will still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world if your nose is broken,” he assured her. He took her hand and squeezed it, kissing her again his as the nurse walked back in.

“You’re lucky the swelling isn’t worse,” the nurse said after inspecting her nose, “but it does need to be re-set.”

“Can’t I just be ugly?” She groaned, looking over at Henry. “You said you’d think I’m pretty anyway.”

“Can you check for a concussion, too?” Henry asked. “She’s being a little… wacky.”

“I hate you.” The nurse laughed.

“Alright, just relax.” After another painful crack, her nose was fixed, and the nurse was giving her a prescription for stronger medication than what Henry had. There was no concussion, either – she’d just had too many glasses of wine at dinner. They were alone again, waiting for papers, and she had reached her arms out to hug Henry. The guilt of the entire night possessed him to kiss her face, over and over again, before sighing.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked as he hugged her.

“What?” She asked. He could smell her perfume going in and out of her nose.

“I was going to tell you I love you tonight. Because I am. I do. I love you. And I’m sorry your nose got broken.”

“I can’t believe it took my nose being broken for you to say it,” she replied. A smile teased at her lips. “I love you too, Cavill.”

“I’m sorry my dog is such an asshole sometimes.”

“So are you,” she remarked. “I forgive him. And at least this means I have an excuse to get a nose job.” Henry chuckled and kissed her. He was overloading her with kisses and she didn’t mind. If he gave her this many kisses hen she was hurt, maybe she should let Kal knock her over more often. Henry accepted the papers the nurse handed him when she came back in, and helped his girlfriend back out to the car. He took her hand this time, squeezing it as he watched her scroll through her phone again.

“Why do you love me?” She asked. “I’m such a mess.” Henry laughed and squeezed her hand tighter.

“Because you are the only person I know that would have a broken nose, laugh on the way to the emergency room, and forgive the dog who did it.” He smiled at her, even though it was too dark to see her face really, and let go of her hand as he pulled into the pharmacy. He looked over at her as he was halfway home, surprised to see that she was asleep. So he didn’t wake her. Instead he opened her door and took her out of it, picking her up and carrying her with absolute ease.

“You were a bad boy tonight,” he told Kal as he walked into the house. “Be quiet so she can sleep. She’s on the medicine you made them give her.” She didn’t stir when Henry laid her down on the bed, or when he took her dress off her shoulders. But she did when he walked into the bathroom, removing the cufflinks he had nervously put on at the hospital. They clinked on the vanity and Henry looked behind him as he heard the rustling of the bed covers.

“Henry?” She asked tiredly.

“Yes, my darling?” He asked as he looked behind him.

“Will you still love me after I get a nose job?”

“I would love you if you got a thousand nose jobs.” He walked back over to her, tucking her in, and pressed a gentle kiss to her swollen nose. “Good night, my love.”

#Henry Cavill x reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill imagine

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darkanddirtyknb · 4 years ago

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UPDATE PART 2

So if you read my last update, I said that I’d give you an update after I had my neurologist appointment. I was too sick to physically go see him but I was able to talk to him on the phone and he’s putting me on another new medication in a kind of last ditch effort. It’s a blood pressure medication which is fine but I’m a bit concerned because the last time I was on a blood pressure medication I didn’t do so well because I don’t have high blood pressure and it made me crazy dizzy but it’s the only thing he can offer right now. A lot of the migraine preventatives I’ve tried make me suicidal so we have to go with something a bit more non-conventional. I’m still very sick but he did have good news in that my change in vision isn’t being caused by my migraines. I’m hoping that it’s just genetic then and not one of my other illnesses causing the jump in my prescription. I haven’t been able to get new glasses yet because I don’t have the finances for it right now but hopefully some of my headaches will go away when I do. I’m still sick with a sinus infection so I’m also taking Doxycycline. It’s not been easy but I’m fighting through the side effects because I’ve had this infection since September and I’m fucking done. Other than that, it’s just a matter of time and trying to find someone who can help me with my reactivated EBV diagnosis. I’m fighting a lot of brain fog right now but I am working on new content so hopefully I’ll be able to get that posted soon! I hope you’re all doing well! <3

#out of bounds #update #personal

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retrievablememories · 4 years ago

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no manners | lucas

title: no manners pairing: lucas x black!reader genre: angst, implied smut request: “Aww thanks✨😊 Hope it’s not too much(I have a wild/creative imagination😌) Could you write a fic where Lucas is married to an African American who lives in America while he’s in China with WayV. One night after a call where Lucas suggests she go out with friends because she’s too lonely, she drinks too much and ends up going home with a stranger. When she wakes up she finds out what she did and a few days later she finds out she’s pregnant 💁🏿‍♀️that being said ain’t do it if it’s weird” word count: 5k warnings: workplace sexism/harassment, infidelity, alcohol use, mentions of intoxicated sex, mentions of pregnancy, emetophobia warning, mentions of blood, medical setting, angst!! just sad shit man a/n: hard to think of a good title, idk. the song’s about a sad relationship so close enough? ion fuck with drake anymore but passionfruit was the soundtrack for this one lol

You wake up in the middle of the night again—you’ve been doing it a lot lately. Your head aches a bit and your throat feels dry. You reach for the bottle of water on your nightstand and drink from it, though it doesn’t make you feel any better.

Pulling the covers back over yourself, you turn towards the empty side of the bed and feel that familiar pain settle in your body again. There are painkillers for physical discomforts, but what do you do for this kind of ache that comes from deep within the heart? You sigh and simply close your eyes, trying to block out the feeling.

It’s been over 3 months since you’ve seen Lucas in person, which might as well be the equivalent of several lifetimes for you. You knew this was going to be inevitable once you got married, and even while you were still in the dating stage you experienced it. But you’re not sure if you could’ve accounted for just how intense it would feel now. It’s different now. You’ve made a home together—are going to have a family someday—and yet you barely get to spend any time together.

Burrowing deeper under the covers, you curl yourself up as small as possible, as if you can squeeze out the pain by leaving no more room for it.

Even work is bland now. You work at a firm for a fairly popular magazine in your city, and although your duties keep you busy most days, even those things are starting to lose their appeal. Your peers certainly don’t help.

“You look like you’ve been going through it,” Your coworker Daniel says over lunch. Your other coworker, Patrice, elbows them in the side for his indiscretion.

Your jaw clenches. You have to make an effort to relax your body and gather your thoughts before responding. The last thing you need right now is to lose your job, although you already know Lucas could support the both of you if necessary. “I’m fine. Just a little sleep deficit, but I’ll live.”

“Don’t mind him,” Sharia says, rolling her eyes. “We all get a little worn out sometimes. I hope things get better for you soon.”

“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” Daniel interjects, holding his hands up in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Sharia’s right, though; we all know how you’re feeling.” No, you don’t, you think, resisting the desire to scoff in his face. “Work’s been pretty hectic the past few weeks.”

“Yep, real busy,” you say curtly, not wanting to draw this conversation out further. It’s clear that he thinks he’s making some kind of connection with you, despite him knowing jackshit about anything that’s going on in your life. His presumptuousness has always rubbed you wrong.

“Absolutely. Hopefully the big boss will ease up on us soon here.” You think Daniel is done, but then he speaks again, and Patrice puts her head in her hands. “Anyway, how’s everyone’s home life faring from all this? You and the husband doing all alright?” You know that last statement is specifically for you, and it makes you even more weary.

Sharia shifts uncomfortably as if she can feel the tension you’re experiencing. She’s the only one on your job who knows who you’re married to, as you didn’t want to let your other nosy colleagues in on your life. She’s the only one you can trust to keep your business on your front porch where it belongs.

“We’re doing fine,” you say, keeping your voice light. “How are you and your girlfriend?”

“Actually—are you sure you and dear husband aren’t having any problems? You know...of the bedroom variety? Maybe that’s part of why you’ve been so stressed lately.”

“Jesus, Daniel!” Patrice exclaims in disbelief.

“You’re way out of line.” Sharia gives Daniel a warning look. “We’re at work, this isn’t gossip hour. I don’t think you need another HR report under your belt.”

You continue to sit with your hands clasped together, digging your nails into the back of your hand and watching the wall clock count down the minutes until the lunch break ends. Still 10 minutes left. If this were any other setting, any other person, you would’ve cursed Daniel out and likely given him a good backhanding, but he knows you can’t do anything here. And that’s precisely why he does it.

“What goes on in our lives is none of your business,” you say slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “I don’t know where you pull this crap from. You should listen to Sharia.”

“I hope that’s not a threat, because we all know the boss doesn’t care,” Daniel scoffs. “I’m not going anywhere, so you girls might as well get used to it.” Thankfully, he decides to take his leave at this point, collecting the rest of his lunch and stalking back to his office.

Patrice and Sharia exchange looks, and you merely sit and continue staring at the clock, watching the hands count to the next hour. It’s all you can do.

You’re relieved when you step through the front door of your house that night. Or maybe relief isn’t the word for it—but there is definitely a sort of deflation that happens once you pass through the threshold. You feel sapped and tired, and you can only think of scraping together whatever leftovers you can find because you’re too tired to cook a new meal.

As you walk into the bedroom, you remember that you and Lucas are supposed to video chat tonight, and that makes you feel a little better, but not as good as it could. You glance at the empty side of the bed and sigh heavily.

The rest of the evening passes by simultaneously too slow and too fast. It’s almost like the weight of your depression is dragging down the rest of the world and making time flow in a strange, nonsensical fashion. You eat your leftovers, watch bad reality TV, and even try to check a few work emails before your mind drifts off again. You keep replaying the events at lunch and getting upset again, though you don’t want to.

By the time the hour for your video call comes along, you’re curled up on the bed holding your phone tightly, waiting for it to ring and your husband’s name to flash across the screen. You answer almost instantly when it finally does.

“Yukhei,” you breathe out once his face appears on screen. The sight of him is enough to make your eyes sting immediately, and your throat is choked off with tears.

“Y/N!” Even through the phone speakers, his voice is loud enough to fill your room, and your sudden laughter at his excitement is enough to make the tears building in your eyes finally fall down. Lucas leans closer to the screen, his features drawing into a concerned expression. “Oh, shit—Y/N, what’s wrong?!”

You’ve stopped laughing now but the tears keep flowing, and you wipe your eyes futilely. For a while, all you can do is shake your head and keep crying as Lucas coos to you on the other end of the phone, growing increasingly concerned about your emotional state.

You put the phone down to wipe your face, and only then are you able to calm down enough to speak. “I just hate everything.”

Lucas frowns. “What do you hate, baby?”

“This fucking job, I hate Daniel, I hate being talked to like I’m an idiot, I hate…I hate you not being here.” You pick up the phone again. Your head hurts from crying, and you put your forehead in your hand as you look at Lucas on the other line.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I wish I could be there with you. You know I’d kick his ass for you...and anyone else who makes my baby cry.” He sighs and chuckles, though there’s no real humor to it. “Maybe I should kick my own ass too, then. I’m always away from you, and I know that doesn’t help. There are moments everyday when I wish I was there beside you, but…”

“It’s not like you can help it,” you say, and you feel powerless to do anything about it. “You shouldn’t...feel bad about it.” If only you could take your own advice.

“It’s impossible not to.” Lucas’s fingers drift to his wedding ring, twisting it around his finger like he does whenever he’s distressed. It’s become a subconscious thing for him at this point, but you always notice, and it comforts you to know your relationship can be a solace for him. “I have the other guys here, and it helps, but...who do you talk to when you’re feeling alone, besides me?”

“Ugh…” You lean back against the headboard. “No one, really...I don’t want to bother Sharia with my issues. Or my other friends. I feel like everyone already has their own stuff to deal with…”

Lucas leans forward again, as if he’s talking to you face-to-face. “My dear wife, I won’t pretend to be your therapist, but I think I have a prescription for you.”

You laugh and shake your head. “And what would that be?”

“You should go out. Take a few days off from work, leave the house, do whatever. But I really think you need to be around other people.”

“Go out?”

“Yes, with your friends! You’re cool with some people from work—Sharia, at least. Or your college friends, if not your coworkers. Anyone. I don’t want you to be spending all your time alone.” A melancholy note enters his voice. “And since I can’t be with you now, I want you to at least get out without me.”

“I don’t know...”

“What’s wrong?”

“The problem is that I miss you. Going someplace where you aren’t isn’t gonna help.”

“You’re so stubborn,” Lucas says, but his voice is warm with affection. “Just do it for me, please? You don’t think it hurts me to see my lovely wife so upset? I only want you to be happy.”

Your heart warms at that, and you look up at the ceiling, not wanting to start another wave of tears. “Well, okay...you’re right. I’ll try it this weekend. But I’m still gonna be thinking of you the whole time.”

Lucas smiles. He brings his ring finger close to the camera and kisses the band of metal. “For life, right?”

You mirror his actions. “Always.”

The next day, you catch up with Sharia at the copy machine.

“Hey girl, how are you doing?” she asks, feeding more paper into the machine. “Not too bad after what that fool said yesterday, I hope.”

The mention of that leaves a bad taste in your mouth, but you shake your head and pretend to brush it off. “I’m fine, no one’s thinking about that sleaze. I was wondering if you were up for hanging out this Friday? It’s kinda short notice, but me and some friends are planning to go to a club…”

Her eyes light up at that. “Oh? Which club are y’all going to?”

“The one on the same street as that new five-star restaurant that just opened up. Apparently it’s a bit exclusive, but one of my friends claims to have direct connections, so we’re gonna try it out.”

“Oh, to be rich and glamorous.” Sharia laughs. “Sure, I’ll go. I’m always up for some fun. Anything that’s not this damn job.”

“Great! You know where I live, just swing by around 8?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Sharia looks like she wants to say something else, but Daniel strolls into the room and she rolls her eyes, quickly turning back to the copy machine.

“Hey ladies, what’s going on?” Daniel leans against the wall as if he plans to pull a long conversation out of you, but you shake your head and walk out.

“Bye, Daniel.”

Sharia follows suit, grabbing her documents out of the machine and not even checking if they’re correct before following you out. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”

The Friday night that you head to the club is unexpectedly hot. It rained hard earlier that day and the air is still thick with humidity, which makes you grateful you’re gonna be spending most of your time indoors. Your friend’s connections come in to save the day, just as she promised, and your group of five is soon standing in the club without having to wait in a hot line all night.

Your friend leads everyone over to the VIP section and you all sit down, marveling at the club’s sleek interior. Everything is all glitter and glass and steel, giving the building an almost futuristic look.

“We need some drinks, there’s no way I’m spending all night in a club like this sober,” one of the girls suggests. The others agree and spend a few minutes playfully arguing over which drinks would be best to get before standing up.

Your friend notices you’re still sitting down. “Are you two coming with, or do you want us to order for you?”

“Just order something for me, doesn’t matter what it is,” you say, waving your hand. Sharia agrees. She waits until the others leave, then turns to you with a serious look.

“You should quit.” You stare at her, wondering if maybe you’ve misheard over the loud music.

“Quit? My job? Do you hate having me around that much?” you joke, though you feel confused and a little hurt.

“Now you know—what I’m saying is, we both know who your man is. I think you would be fine if you just quit and started looking for another job or even stopped working for a while. There’s no reason why you should have to stay there and keep putting up with Daniel’s shit.”

You don’t hate the idea. It’s one you’ve thought of numerous times before, but you’re not confident about taking the first step towards it. “I don’t think it’s that simple...having a job keeps me busy. I’d probably die of boredom if I didn’t have work. And anyway, I’m not really ready to be a housewife...especially considering that my husband isn’t even there half the time.” Your mood drops a little when you think of this. Sharia notices and tries to pull you back before you lose steam before the night even starts.

“Hey hey, it’s just a suggestion! You don’t have to do anything except whichever choice will be easiest for you. I’m just trying to look out for you girl, God knows no one wants to be harassed on the job everyday.”

“I hear you. But I don’t want to think about this anymore,” you groan.

When the other girls come back, you take your drink and immediately down half of it in one go. You need something to distract you from the bad mood attempting to creep up on you.

“Well damn, okay! Someone’s eager!” you friend shouts, and everyone else laughs.

The rest of the night goes similarly, quickly spiraling out of your hands before you can really realize it. The alcohol makes you unable to think about any one thing for too long, which is what you want—maybe even need. You lose track of how many drinks you have and how many songs you dance to. All you can feel is the burning in your throat and the blissful emptiness of not having to think, worry, or stress. For once.

At some point, someone’s hands are on your body and you think maybe it’s one of your friends, but none of them would touch you like this—or kiss you like this. It’s not Lucas either, it can’t be because he’s still in China isn’t he? but you want it to be Lucas, it should be Lucas, so you return the kiss anyway, and there’s more touching and feeling—

until you end up in someone’s car, a taxi maybe, it’s not the car you came in but that doesn’t matter either, just the hands and the sensation of it all, of being touched by a person other than yourself when you haven’t felt it in a long time—

and maybe if you close your eyes for long enough it will be him.

The first thing you notice is the splitting sensation in your head. You don’t remember how you got into your bed or how much you had last night, but you haven’t experienced a hangover like this since your college years, so it must’ve been a lot. You groan and bring your hands to your head, also noticing that your bonnet is nowhere to be found. You must’ve been really wasted last night.

You reach for the water on your nightstand, but it’s not there. In fact, nothing’s there. Your hand meets air, and you suddenly feel slightly alarmed—where’s your nightstand? You finally crack one eye open only to see a room entirely different from the one in your home.

You jolt up, which only makes your head throb harder, but you can’t be bothered with that right now when you’re in a strange place. Pure panic explodes in your chest as you look to the side and see a strange man sleeping next to you in bed—his bed. You can only see his top half, but you can assume he’s naked underneath, as you are equally nude.

“Fuck, no,” you blurt out. You throw the covers back and move as fast as you can to collect your strewn clothes, not really caring if you wake the man up at this point. You just know you’ve got to get the hell out.

You pull your clothes on and dial for an Uber on your phone, sprinting out of the bedroom just as the man starts rustling in the bedsheets. You realize his place is some sort of luxury apartment, which means he’s probably one of the many famous or semi-famous men who frequents that club. That idea makes you panic more as you unlock the door and run out of it; you don’t have the patience to wait on the elevator, so you take the stairs two at a time.

You’re full-on shaking by the time you get to the bottom and end up outside on the sidewalk. Some people passing by give you sideways glances at your presumed Walk of Shame, with you still wearing your club outfit, but there’s no room to think about their judgment. You’re too busy being eaten alive by your conscience.

The ride home is mostly silent. Your driver tries to strike up a conversation at first, but they realize you’re in no state to talk and leave you to your thoughts. With your hangover, the sun’s brightness feels like nails stabbing into your skull, but the pain gripping your heart still manages to be worse.

Your wedding ring feels especially heavy on your finger, like solid lead weighing you down. You badly want to take it off, but you also don’t want to remove one of the few things tying you to Lucas right now. The conflict tears you apart. You almost feel like your ring has become a sentient thing, burning your skin and pinching your finger with the threat of cutting it clean off.

You scrub yourself for what seems like an hour after you get home. When you finally get out of the shower, you end up in the armchair in your room, sitting in your towel and simply staring at the bed. Lucas’s side of the bed. The side of the bed where a picture of you two sits framed on the nightstand, one you took on the day of your wedding shoot. It seems to mock you now, saying, Look at what a good thing you had. Look at what you’ve destroyed.

The ring burns again.

Monday feels surreal in a sickly way.

You don’t call or text anyone over the weekend—not even your friends who are worried and demanding answers for what happened at the club. You feel like maybe you shouldn’t be, but you’re angry at their demands; why didn’t anyone stop you if they were so concerned? Weren’t they all there, too? Either way, it’s too late to think about “what ifs.” What’s done is done. You don’t want to talk or think about it anymore. But that’s impossible.

Stepping into work doesn’t feel real. No one knows anything except Sharia. All your colleagues still greet you like you’re the same person, the same hardworking employee and loving wife they all know. It’s better that they don’t know, but in some irrational way, this also makes you angry. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t treat me like I’m the same person. My life is ruined; nothing can ever be the same.

Nevertheless, you interact with them all like it’s any other Monday and play along with their tired banter even when you want to scream to the world that none of this matters. You do a decent job of avoiding Sharia during the first half of the day, occupying your time with assignments and then creating busywork when you finish those.

Until lunch. Then there’s nowhere left to run.

You go to your car with the excuse of picking up your food today—even though you don’t intend to do anything but sit in the parking lot—and no one questions it but her. She follows you outside. You don’t even have the energy to tell her no. You’re at least glad that she doesn’t speak until both of you are safely in the car and away from other ears.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know if that matters,” you say blankly.

“Well, it does. You might have made a terrible mistake, but you’re still human.”

“There’s no way to be okay after this. Sharia, what the fuck am I gonna tell him?”

“There’s nothing you can tell him but the truth. He deserves to know that much, at least.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Y/N, it’s better to get this over with sooner than later. It’s only going to hurt worse if you wait. What would you do anyway, just ignore his calls?”

You grip the steering wheel. “...Maybe. If I have to. I don’t know.”

Sharia sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do with your life. But he will need to know at some point.”

“He’ll hate me,” you blurt out, a tear already rolling down your cheek. You try to stop them from coming, but this is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to cry since it happened. You’ve surprised even yourself with how long you avoided this part. The dam has no choice but to break, sending you into a cascade of tears as you rest your head on the steering wheel.

Sharia’s arms are warm around you, but her embrace does nothing to make you feel better. You feel as if you don’t deserve this kind of reprieve from her. And certainly not from Lucas.

A couple weeks later, you sit in your OBGYN’s waiting room, your body stiff with fear and anxiety.

You haven’t talked to Lucas in the entire time since you went to the club that Friday night. You know there is no way he’d go that long without talking to you, though—which is why you blocked him on every avenue you could think of. To be safe, you also blocked all of this group members, making sure there would be no way for him to get into contact with you.

You feel like you’ve lost your mind with the lengths you’ve gone to—what if he thinks you’re kidnapped or dead?—but you’re more afraid of facing him. The thought of looking in his eyes while your transgression swims in the back of your mind makes your stomach pitch to the floor.

And you would like to think that’s the only thing making you sick these days. But you can’t ignore the odd pains and nausea and sudden spotting even if you wanted to. It’s what has landed you in this doctor’s office today, with your hands tucked between your knees and your head spinning as you try to ignore the bitter taste of bile rising in your throat.

Eventually, you can no longer push it back, and you go to the bathroom to empty your stomach—even though there’s not much there to begin with.

When you leave the restroom, a nurse is standing outside in the lobby, her expectant eyes landing on you.

“Mrs. Wong?”

“That’s me,” you say weakly.

“Hi! Come on back so we can get your vitals. I hope you’re doing okay today…” You follow her into the back rooms to get poked and prodded, your blood pressure and temperature taken and your height and weight jotted down on a chart. You don’t pay much attention to what she’s saying. Every word sounds like it’s being filtered through a foggy telephone.

You return to reality when she hands you the transparent cup and the pregnancy test to take, and things become even more painfully clear when another nurse comes in to take your blood. You know the blood test results will take longer to come back, but you requested it anyway. You have to be sure.

Despite the nurses’ cheerful demeanor, you feel cold and isolated when you use the test in the small restroom. The feeling only worsens when the doctor confirms the reading and happily shakes your hand, unaware of or unwilling to acknowledge your dread.

It’s positive.

That weekend, you finally unblock Lucas. Your mind is in a tangle while you do it, but you can’t avoid him any longer.

You don’t know if he’ll even answer your call. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. Maybe he’s busy with practice or even asleep. But what makes you feel worse is that you know he’d never ignore you if he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

His name only stays on your phone for a few seconds before he’s immediately picking up the video call, his face suddenly appearing in full color before you. He seems panicked, almost dropping the phone in his haste to answer it. When he rights the screen again and sets it on a steady surface, his expression is difficult to decipher. Then it turns into pure discontent.

“Do you have an explanation for this?” You’ve never seen Lucas this irritated before, and it makes you tremble. It can only get worse from here. “I called and texted and nothing got through. I look on your social media and I’m blocked on every platform. What is this, Y/N?”

You can only shake your head. The words are stuck in your throat. You chew the inside of your cheek, unsure how to respond.

“This isn’t a joke, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Your grip on the phone tightens as your stomach ties itself into a knot. You feel sick again, but you can’t throw up now. “Yukhei, I went t-to the doctor, I-I’m pregnant.”

Lucas pauses, and various emotions flit across his face in the span of a few seconds. His eyebrows draw together in something akin to confusion and hurt. “You’re...pregnant? Why the hell did you need to block me for that? Please don’t tell me this about my career again. Baby, listen to me—”

“Yukhei, I’m only 4 weeks.”

Lucas’s words drop off completely. His body stills, and for a moment you wonder if the video has paused. Your palms sweat and your skin prickles. He sits back in his chair and looks off to the side as if he’s trying to gather words. Finally, he says,

“What are you telling me? Because this isn’t what I’m hearing, is it? This is some kind of prank, right?” His voice gets louder and more frantic towards the end, though he struggles to keep from outright yelling at you. “If you want to play games, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say—there’s no excuse for it, but I was drunk, I-I was lonely, I just don’t know—” You form a fist with your left hand, digging your nails into your palm, and the warm metal of your ring against your skin threatens to burn you again.

Lucas lowers his head and pushes his hands through his hair. He keeps his head down like this for a while as you stumble and try to explain yourself, your words devolving into barely decipherable sobs.

“Shut up. Just shut up!” His words are muffled from him covering his face. He’s never talked to you like that before, which makes you want to cry more, but you don’t say another word. “I just don’t want to hear it. I’ve sat here everyday and thought of you, counting down days until I could come back to the U.S. to see you, and this is what you give me.”

You merely sit and listen with your heart trying to burst in your chest. His words feel like knives being thrown at you; the pain is practically physical.

When he finally takes his hands away from his face and looks up, his eyes are wet and red with tears. “This is impossible. I need time to think about this.”

“I-impossible? Wait, Yukhei—”

He hangs up the call before you can finish speaking, though you aren’t sure what more you could’ve said to him anyway.

With nothing but your screen staring back at you, a sense of unease seeps into your body and makes your limbs stiff. You want to reach out for him, want to make him see that you never intended to hurt him this way. You don’t want to lose everything you’ve built this soon. And yet, you can already see it all slipping through your hands.

You are more alone than ever.

75 notes · View notes

carelessannie · 4 years ago

Text

maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 1)

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

Read on A03

Read the Tony courts Peter wip

Stucky focus (Steve x Bucky)

A sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).

Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Middle/High School Au, talk about family death, public non-sexual submission, steve beats the shit out of some bullies

---

Maybe it goes like this:

Steve can’t remember life with a pack, but knows for certain that his Ma grieves for them. Ever since he was a boy, he would catch his Ma staring at fading photos of strangers, wiping tears from her eyes, and denying it when Steve would ask why do they make you cry.

It’s not until later in his life that Steve learns the truth about pack bonds, about the decision an Alpha makes in life to form a familial or an intimate bond with their packmates. His Ma refuses to let him learn about packs from school, instead sitting him down across the table, like an adult, Steven, and he learns about orientations and secondary genders when he’s nine years old.

His Ma explains the way kids will turn into adults: first establishing their orientation as Dominant, Submissive, or Versatile, and later in high school, presenting as Alpha, Beta or Omega. She threads their fingers together, and asks Steve if he can notice what she is, and he concentrates real hard, trying to decide, as his Ma laughs.

It’s okay, Steven, you won’t be able to tell what other people are until your own body has developed.

Steve nods, pretending like he understands, and asks his mom about her presentation. She gives him a sad— sad? — smile, and says she’s a Submissive Beta.

It’s silent as Steve puts those two things together with the strong, beautiful woman he admires as his Ma, and is still confused. He asks about packs, and Alphas, and what intimate and familial packs are— gaining an amused shake of the head from his Ma.

Why don’t I just tell you about my pack, yes?

Steve nods eagerly, desperate to hear the story of a family he never had,

My pack was intimate, Steven, which means we all loved each other very much and decided to live together. I met my— our Alpha when I was in nursing school, before you were born. She was already mated to two Omegas, and they had been searching for a Beta to join their pack. We fell in love. I met her Omegas, and all four of us were very compatible— do you remember what that means, hun?

Mhm, like when you know you belong with someone even more than anyone else.

Right, good, so we all belonged to each other, understand? We lived in our Alpha’s house, and all of us worked jobs in the city. About a year after joining her pack, I met your Pa. He transferred to the hospital I worked at, and he was also a Beta, like me, but he was Dominant. I introduced him to my pack, and they loved him too. Within a year, we were mated and I had you. Makes sense, Steven?

Yes, Ma. But… What happened to them?

At this, his Ma goes silent, breathing deeply before finishing the story for her son.

Do you remember the difference between packmates and bondmates, Steven?

Um. One is forever, right?

Yes, good, if you are in love or committed to a pack, they are your packmates, whether you are intimate or not. But sometimes, two people, or a whole pack, want to make their relationship last forever, and they become bondmates. All people have the private part of their necks, remember? You have to know, sweetheart, the only way to start a bond is to bite each other there while mating. We’ll wait to talk about mating until you’re in middle school, okay hun?

Yes, Ma.

Good boy. Now. The other important thing about bonding is that it ties your soul to another person’s forever. Any person of any orientation can bond with whoever they’d like, as long as they’re compatible. But you have to know, and this is so important, that once you bond, your souls become one. My whole pack was bonded, but… Daisy… hun, our Alpha died of cancer. She got very sick, and died. And when one bondmate dies, everyone who shares the bond gets sick and dies too.

… Ma, but. Why didn’t you die?

I decided, once I got pregnant with you, that I didn’t want to risk bonding to my pack. Your father and I loved each other so much, and you were the symbol of our love, not a bite. And I’m thankful, sweetheart, because I get to be your Ma and watch you grow up.

Do you miss them, Ma?

Every day, Steven.

Steve doesn’t remember his Ma mentioning her pack again after that day, but he did start to notice that she would get sad a few times a year, around forgotten birthdays and anniversaries. She would spend all of her days working hard to provide for the two of them, and always made sure Steve knew he was loved and valued, even when she denied herself the opportunities to find a new pack.

Looking back, Steve can see that they didn’t have a lot of luxuries or comforts, and definitely didn’t live in the best part of town. He had a few friends in Bushwick, growing up in the nineties it was a poor place to live, but they were perfectly happy to play in the streets during the day, and lock their doors tight at night.

As he ties up his laces, he thinks about his small family and is immeasurably happy. There’s no one he loves more in the world than his Ma. He hates the thought of getting on the bus and driving far away to switch middle schools, but his Ma reassures him that he will love meeting new kids and making new friends.

So he grabs his backpack, tightening the knots holding the straps in place, and hops down the stairs, only sparing one look to his Ma on the front step.

It’s a long bus ride to the school, more than thirty minutes. Over the summer, his Ma found out that the school system wanted him to transfer to a better school because of budget... something and overcrowding—? He’s actually not quite sure why he can’t go back to his old school, but his Ma made it seem like William Alexander Middle School thinks he’s special and has asked for him specifically. So yeah, Steve is really excited.

He’s going into Seventh grade, and gets his own locker, and gets to go to art class.

Steve spends the whole bus ride reviewing the schedule he already has memorized, and comparing it with the school map that his Ma printed for him, tracing his finger around from class to class. Bus to Nurse to Homeroom to Algebra to English to Nurse to Lunch to Gym to Art to Nurse to Bus.

The day passes this way, Steve confidently following his map around the school and taking notes in his small notebook. It’s not until Gym that he gets nervous, remembering his last asthma attack, and hopes the nurse told his gym teacher about his restrictions as he files into the gym and takes a seat on the floor.

“Steve Rogers?”

“Here.”

“No, Steve, I need to talk to you,” Steve looks up and sees his gym teacher, a really large man with a beard, waving him to the front of the class. The other kids turn to whisper to each other as Steve walks forward.

“I— did—”

“Steve, I have a note here from the nurse, saying you cannot participate in most exercises because of your health issues. Because of this, I’m going to suggest you join the sixth grade class, which will go at a better pace for you, and let Mr. Howlett help you further, okay?”

He feels his entire face flush dark red as the other students behind him whisper and laugh. He’s a seventh grader, not a baby sixth grader. He holds eye contact with the gym teacher, folding his arms across his chest, but still grinds out a, “Yes, Sir,” like his Ma would want him to.

“Good, it’s settled. Here, Mr. Howlett has sent James to show you where to go.”

Steve turns to find a small, smiling boy waiting for him at... parade rest? What—

“Alright Stevie, let’s go,” and the boy turns on his heel, marching across the gym as Steve scrambles to keep up.

James slows down slightly, letting Steve catch him, “First things first, my name is James Buchanan Barnes, but most people call me Jamie. I hate it, but it’s better than nothin',” he looks over at Steve, eyeing him up and down, “Second, Mr. Howlett is friends with my dad. You stick with me, and this class will be a breeze, capiche?”

Steve swears his eyes are falling out of his head, and he nods his affirmation.

“Good,” is all Jamie responds with before grabbing his hand, tugging him to join a younger, smaller group of kids in the gym. As they approach, Jamie lifts their hands in triumph, “I found him!”

Feeling betrayed, Steve rips his hand free in embarrassment, but Jamie just smiles wider and pulls him towards their gym teacher, Mr. Howlett.

How this man could be bigger and scarier than the last teacher, Steve doesn’t know, but refuses to hide behind Jamie as they approach, and instead stands up even taller. Mr. Howlett makes a grunting noise, flipping through a few papers on his clipboard, before looking up at the two boys.

“Rogers?”

Before he can respond, Jamie pipes up, “Yeah! Here’s his note from the nurse, and he’s my friend and— and can I help him out? Please?”

It’s pretty clear that Mr. Howlett couldn’t care less either way, but all Steve can see is the raw, eager look in Jamie’s face as he begs their teacher to help Steve.

Huh, he thinks, the only other time I've seen this look is when Ma begs the pharmacist to refill my inhaler prescription when her paycheck's late.

“Whatever, Jamie, just keep outta trouble, ya hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Jamie delivers, with a crisp solute to match, and pulls Steve towards the back of the class.

They settle down, and Jamie keeps holding onto his hand. Steve glances over and sees Jamie quickly look away, suddenly shy.

“Jamie?”

The smaller boy looks over, hopefully, “Yeah, Stevie?”

“Thank you, I didn’t think I’d get a friend on my first day, much less the best one in the school.”

Jamie ducks his head again before turning his brilliant smile in Steve’s direction, and Steve continues before he has a chance to respond, “and Jamie?”

“Yeah, Stevie?”

“I swear, cross my heart, that I’ll find you a better nickname.”

Jamie’s eyes widen, and then he’s laughing, loud and doubled over. He grips harder onto Steve, who can’t help laughing along, even as they get funny looks from the class and a gruff, c’mon, quiet down, from Mr. Howlett.

Shaking his head, Jamie tries to catch his breath as he responds, “ I— I think— I’d love that— Stevie.”

And all Steve can do is smile back.

---

It takes a week for Steve to settle on Bucky, and when Bucky says he loves it, Steve runs all the way home to tell his Ma.

---

Steve and Bucky have Gym class and Lunch together almost every day for a year, and spend the whole summer waiting for their schedules to be mailed, hoping for at least two classes together.

They get their wish.

---

Halfway through eighth grade, Steve gets sent home with a stamped letter from his guidance counselor. For the past few weeks, the guidance counselor has asked him and Bucky to have lunch in her office, and the boys always shrug and agree. Today, after finishing lunch, she hands both boys an official letter for their guardians to discuss with them.

“Whaddaya think’s in it, Stevie?” Bucky asks, squinting at the letter as he holds it up to the light. The boys are heading straight from lunch to the nurse’s office to get Steve’s medicine, like they do every day, and Bucky grips tight to his hand, intertwining their fingers, like he does every day.

“I dunno, Buck. Maybe she’s gonna tell your Ma that you smell and needa bath,” the comment earns Steve a light shove, and an affectionate, “Punk,” in response.

“Jerk,” Steve replies, a reflex, and reaches out to pull Bucky closer, “I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it, Buck. She’s been real nice up ‘til now—”

“Yeah, I know, I just don’t wanna bother my dad if it’s somethin’ bad.”

They fall silent for a moment, both boys knowing how busy and strict Bucky’s dad can be. Steve sees Bucky’s head drop, lost, as he looks at the letter in his small hands. He slows them to a stop, turns Bucky around to face him in the school hallway, and hums in approval as Bucky meets his eyes and slowly tilts his head back. He grabs onto both shoulders, squeezing lightly, and pulls Bucky up close. Fingers tighten in the back of Steve’s shirt as Bucky clings to him, and he nuzzles into his best friend's hair, comforting, while rubbing across his shoulders.

“So sweet, Bucky. There’s no way your dad could be mad at you, alright? Believe me?”

He gazes down into soft, glazed gray eyes, and freezes. Bucky is slightly trembling against him, looking at him like he’s a revelation. Steve feels a calm settle into his bones as he reacts purely on instinct, reaching up to grip Bucky around the neck.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, Bucky’s eyes roll up into his head, breath leaving his body in a woosh along with a high pitched whimper.

Second, Steve widens his stance, straightening his back, and Bucky sinks, fast, to his knees, gripping onto Steve’s thighs for balance.

And then, out of the haze—

“STEVE ROGERS, YOU RELEASE THAT BOY IMMEDIATELY,” and the trance is broken.

Steve is horrified to see Bucky curled up on the floor, and he stumbles back. Large arms wrap around him, herding him away from—

“STEVIE, no, please—” the voice of his best friend, his Bucky, follows him down the hallway along with small broken cries, and Steve fights hard against the strong arms that hold him,

“C’mon, kid, it’s okay. Just gonna call your Ma and getcha settled,” but Steve doesn’t care.

His boy is back there, somewhere, calling for him, needing him, and he can’t get back, he can’t protect, he can’t save, he can’t— breathe.

---

It’s okay, hun. Shh, sweet boy, it’s okay.

— Sarah, he had Jamie on his knees, submitting—

— no, I don’t think Jamie has stopped crying yet—

— only a few more months, it’ll be fine—

---

Steve wakes in his bed at home, confused.

“B— bucky?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” his Ma pushes past the door, “you up alright?”

He blinks his eyes a few times, disoriented, “Where… what—”

“Shh, hun,” she holds out a glass of water, which Steve takes gratefully,

“Ma, where’s Bucky?”

His Ma looks nervous, and straightens the sheets on the bed, “Steven, Bucky is just fine. How much do you remember about what happened?”

The memories are sticky, “I was just hugging Bucky. He was scared that his dad would be angry about the— oh! The letter from the counselor. Ma, I have an important letter for you. Officially stamped and everything,” his Ma just nods, so he continues, “I dunno, I was hugging Bucky in the hallway, and then something was… different. Like really heavy between us? And all I wanted was to keep him safe, but then… Then they took him, and—”

Steve looks into his Ma’s eyes, suddenly horrified, “I hurt him, didn’t I?”

He must’ve, that would be the only reason they knocked him out and separated him from his— from his—

“No, Steven, not like that. You absolutely did not hurt him,” then what... “You were the perfect Dominant, hun, and it’s not your fault, okay sweetheart?”

“Dominant? Ma…”

“Hush, Steven. I’m going to tell you something important, and you’re going to listen to me,” he nods once, so she continues, “the letter from your counselor was very important, Steven. Remember how boys and girls start to present around your age? Your guidance counselor has been monitoring signs of presentation between you and Bucky, signs that were confirmed today in the hallway. Steven, today you presented as a Dominant, and Bucky submitted to you. Do you know what this means?”

“T— that we’re… compatible?”

His Ma nods solemnly, “Yes, exactly. The doctors are not sure yet if Bucky is Submissive or Versatile, but you are a strong Dominant. My strong boy.”

“But Ma, why was it so bad?”

She sits on the edge of the bed, scooting so that she can pull Steve closer,

“Because, hun, both of you dropped.”

“Dropped...”

Ma hums, finding the words to explain,

“A lot of times, when a Dominant and Submissive are together, they go into a headspace. It’s calm, it feels right and certain and instinctual. Usually a Dominant will take more control, and the Submissive will allow it, naturally. If this doesn’t happen in a safe, private space, or if it’s interrupted, both parties are at risk of dropping. That means you could feel sick, lost, and upset— and even panic or become depressed,”

Exactly like what happened to me, Steve thinks,

“— and with you and Bucky, you both passed out from the stress. That’s why I need to know if you’re okay, Steven,”

It makes sense. Now that Steve knows what to look for, he can easily recognize not only moments where Bucky has submitted easily to him, but also moments where Bucky challenged him and he ended up claiming Bucky’s submission in an argument. His best friend, the boy who fights for him and is always at his side— it’s overwhelming. All Steve wants to know is—

“Ma, please, what happened to my Bucky?”

“Steven, don’t—“

“I need to know—“

“He’s still in a drop, hun.”

Steve swings out of the bed, “How? It’s been hours,” he hears his Ma stutter out something, but feels a resolve settle, “I’ve gotta be with him, Ma.”

“No.”

“But—“

“I said no. His pack is sending me updates, but was very clear that they want you to stay away from Bucky for now. He needs time to recover and understand what’s happened, as do you. And, as your principal recommended, both of you are switching lunch periods and transferring classes, to help reduce the stress of being around each other, is that clear?”

Not even sure he’s heard right past stay away from Bucky, Steve drops back into bed in shock. No more Bucky? He can’t even comprehend what his day would look like without his best friend next to him, and just like that, he’s destroyed one of most important relationships in his life.

Hot, wet tears fall through the night as he wraps around his sheets, wishing he was holding onto a smaller, dark haired boy with crystal blue eyes.

—

There are only two months left until summer, and they feel like two years without Bucky.

Steve cries himself to sleep for the first week.

In the second week, he tries talking to the adults in charge, all of whom give him pity and suggest he’ll get over it and move on.

By the third week, Steve is angry. He snarls at classmates, teachers, anyone who looks at him the wrong way. He gets sent home with a note about his behavior, and his Ma just gives him more useless pity.

During the fourth week, he’s walking the hall to his last period of the day, when he hears a plea for help and the slamming of a door echo from the boy’s bathroom. He runs inside, ready to take down a bully, and sees two eighth graders pinning someone to the bathroom stall. He steps in just as they punch the boy across the jaw,

“Hey assholes, why don’tcha pick on someone your own size?”

The boys whirl around and sneer, dropping the smaller kid in a heap on the ground.

“Look what we have here, a pint sized savior,” the larger of the two smiles wickedly, as he sizes up Steve, and the other one delivers a kick to their initial target for good measure, “Wonder where you got the balls, tiny?”

Steve throws his fists up, and the boys smile even wider, amused. The larger bully lunges for him, suddenly, and Steve absorbs his tackle, trying to roll them around on the floor to get on top. He delivers a well aimed elbow to the guy’s throat, which has him sputtering, and drives his knee down between the kid’s legs, earning him a satisfying howl.

“Yo, kid, it’s okay, c'mon it was just a joke—“

The other boy’s words barely register as Steve lands one, two, three hard right hooks to the bully’s face, before pushing off his chest and standing to his feet. The second kid scoots past Steve, hauling his friend up and escaping out the entrance.

“St— Stevie?”

All of the rage expels from Steve’s body as he turns to find Bucky smiling up at him from the floor where the bullies had dropped him just moments earlier.

He approaches slowly, and notices just how bruised Bucky is, just how tired he looks. Steve catalogs the blood on his face, dark circles under his eyes, possibly dislocated shoulder, and gaunt expression with care, touching as little as possible.

“We should— we should go to the nurse, Buck. It doesn’t look good.”

Bucky nods and attempts to get to his feet, but lets out a weak groan and sinks back down to the floor.

“C’mon, jerk,” Steve teases, trying his best to hide concern and devastation, pulling Bucky back to his feet on his good side, “do I hafta carry ya the whole way?”

There’s a weak laugh that could also be a sob from Bucky, and Steve tries to take more of his weight as they limp towards the nurse’s office.

He feels hopeful after hearing a barely whispered, “Punk,” in return.

---

The nurse lets the two boys cling to each other on the small cot, and proceeds to call both of their packs, asking for both kids to go home early for the day.

Steve glares at the nurse the whole time, knowing that he only has a few precious moments with his best friend before they’re separated again.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, Stevie?” the younger boy looks up adoringly, “you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buck, how— are you okay?” He does his best to hold back tears that are welling up in his eyes, and enjoys the solid feeling of Bucky, safe and warm in his arms.

Small fingers run over his cheeks, wiping away a few stray tears that had slipped free, and Bucky’s smile just grows, “So much better now, that’s for sure.” He wiggles a bit, and Steve laughs lightly, gripping his friend’s waist tighter.

He leans down, brushing his nose against the shell of Bucky’s ear, and whispers, “Nothing has been the same without you, Bucky.”

A shiver goes through Bucky’s body, Steve feels it by proximity, and Bucky remains silent, until Steve hears one hitched breath, then another. He pulls away slightly, looking into Bucky’s face as the smaller boy dissolves into tears. Bucky pulls himself closer, burying his face in Steve’s neck as great, giant sobs tear him apart. All Steve can do is shush him gently, kiss him on the head, and rock them back and forth, waiting for his Bucky to calm down as the minutes pass in silence.

“I can’t say I’m surprised,”

Steve looks up, turning his body to guard Bucky’s vulnerable one, and sees Bucky’s Beta father and Omega mother standing in the doorway, expressions both shocked and resolved.

“Steve, can you tell us what happened?”

It takes a few minutes for Steve to explain how he saved Bucky, and when he finishes, he watches the Beta and Omega exchange a knowing look, before they take a seat near the nurse’s cot. Neither move to take Bucky away, which is perfectly fine with Steve, who just holds his friend closer. A quick glance gown confirms Bucky has stopped crying and fallen asleep, sniffling lightly.

“We need to talk to you, Steve,” he hears Bucky’s dad call for him, and reluctantly looks up at both of them, noticing the guidance counselor also waiting in the doorway. He nods to allow them to continue,

“I’m afraid we haven’t handled this situation well, son,” Bucky’s dad continues, “and it seems to have hurt both of you boys. I’m sorry, and want you to know we only wanted the best for Jamie.”

“I get it, sir,” Steve shifts slightly, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “Does this mean I can see Bucky again?”

The Beta leans forward on his seat, making sure to focus on the younger boys, “Yes, Steve, we want you and Jamie to keep being friends, at least until you go to high school next year.”

He can’t even help the relieved sigh and small smile that take over his face, letting his eyes fall shut as he relaxes back onto the bed. Good. He doesn’t even spare a thought for their friendship after middle school, completely convinced that in this moment, him and Bucky will be together, forever.

---

Steve and Bucky fall back into their old routine, classes and lunchtime back to normal, and the news of Steve’s fight spreads like wildfire throughout the school. Both boys find themselves surrounded by new friends, many of whom knew Bucky but hadn’t hung out with Steve before, and he enjoys watching his best friend thrive in newfound popularity.

As summer approaches, Bucky starts talking more about going out for football in eighth grade. Steve always knew he loved sports, and had often encouraged Buck to keep playing baseball when the younger boy would get frustrated, so he naturally pushes his friends to try out. What he isn’t prepared for is how little he sees of Bucky over the summer. He barely notices at first, still seeing Bucky a few days a week, but then he starts to get rain checks on his invitations.

“Sorry, Stevie, rain check— I’m doing drills with the guys all day,”

“Aw man, rain check? I’m at conditioning every day this week and literally can’t get free,”

“Maybe rain check for this weekend? The guys are running plays all day, and I just gotta be there,”

“— you understand, right Stevie?”

And Steve does understand. He decides to give Bucky a little more space, only asking to hang out once a week, if that, and focuses on preparing for high school. He spends more time with his Ma, and she helps him pick out a brand new backpack from Walmart. When he protests, saying his old backpack is just fine, she shakes her head and insists on buying a product that will last. He fills it with notebooks and new pencils and pens and even a pack of colored pencils with a shiny dual sharpener.

It’s a few weeks before school starts that his Ma receives a letter from the school system. He’s decorating the cover of his notebook, laying across their living room floor, when his Ma comes and sits next to him on the floor.

“Steven, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay, Ma, one sec,” he takes a few moments to gather his pencil shavings, packing up his colored pencils, putting them in the correct order, and closing his notebook, stacking everything neatly on top.

“What’s wrong, Ma?”

“Remember when you went into middle school, and the government had to move you to William Alexander because the school closest to us was overcrowded?” Steve nods, he does remember, “Well, they don’t have the same issue with the high school here. So you’re going to be going Bushwick High, which is just a couple blocks away from us.”

“Oh, I thought I was gonna be going to school in Park Slope again, near Bucky?”

“I know, Steven,” his Ma gives a small pat to his head, before standing up and heading for the kitchen, “why don’t we have a snack and talk about it more? They sent a list of classes, and you get to choose electives and everything.”

Steve tries calling Bucky that night, eager to tell him about his news, but just gets the answering machine. He tries two more times that week, and comes up blank.

Within a few weeks, Steve is walking into Brooklyn High, confident and proud, and barely spares a thought about missing his best friend at his side.

#stucky #steve pov #steve x bucky #d/s fic #childhood friends #soft stucky #fluff #minor angst #steve beats the shit out of some bullies #mcu #fanfic #MiGLT #omegaverse

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crazycrackersworld · 3 years ago

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Today at 1:30 p.m. my Aunt Theresa passed away. She had been in the hospital with pneumonia and covid for about 2 weeks they never could get her oxygen where it was supposed to be , and couldn't get her to keep food down they couldn't fix her.

Just a couple weeks ago we were all together in her house throwing her a birthday party for her 70th birthday my Uncle Mike came down from Colorado and had surprised her the place was full of family and friends and laughter joy and happiness and none of us knew what was right around the corner. None of us had any idea what events were going to be getting to unfold within a week or so and I don't think we would have believed it if someone told us.

She got sick thought it was pneumonia she was dealing with it and I'm one night my Uncle Jerrry couldn't get her up out of the bathtub she didn't have the strength to do it on her own and he couldn't help her so he called the ambulance and they took her to the hospital and that's where she stayed.

And in that amount of time Uncle Jerry spent two stays in the hospital of about a day or two each before getting sent home on cousin Tim went to stay with his dad to help him out but clearly he was sick right away he's been in the hospital since this past Monday hopefully he gets better.

My mom did not pick a real winner to be my biological father since I've never met him since he pretty much ran and disappeared as soon as he found out she was pregnant. So for the first few years of my life my mom's family stepped up and between my five uncles and my grandfather it was like I had six dads and between my mom and my grandma and my two aunts it's like I had four moms. Everybody helped, I learned different things from everybody and I consider myself very lucky to have had all those people in my life.

A lot of times people in the family made jokes all my Aunt Theresa not being The brightest bulb on the tree or the sharpest knife in the drawer it was always done out of love. In reality was she the smartest person no, she wasn't the dumbest either she did have a tendency to forget things or get things wrong and we just chalk that up to being Theresa.

But despite any of that or any shortcomings she was one of the kindest most caring most generous people I've ever met in my entire life. She truly had a beautiful soul and had a way of lighting up a room when she walked into it almost always in a good mood even when she wasn't in a good mood. I remember her smile and her laugh I remember how even as an adult when she would come back to Wisconsin to visit after moving here to Arizona and she would see me it was like just taking a look at me just brightened her day.

I had made the decision to not move back to Wisconsin permanently and and to stay here for the foreseeable future couple weeks before her birthday party and I only told a few people cuz I wanted to keep it a secret because I wanted to tell everybody else at her birthday party I wanted to tell her at her birthday party it was kind of my present. And I remember the look on her face when I told her she didn't look like a 70 year old lady she looked like like a little girl who had just gotten the doll she wanted for Christmas or the piece of candy she had begged for all day and she gave me the biggest hug and she was so happy that I was staying. And now I'm here and she's gone and it does not seem fair or right I am hurting more than I have in a very long time.

My cousin Jeanette lives in Maryland and Tim even though he's here obviously as I mentioned he's in the hospital. And so my Uncle Jerry who isn't in the greatest health in the first place is all alone in that house because he just lost the love of his life and I honestly don't know how long he'll last without her. I always thought my Uncle Jerry and Aunt Theresa would be one of those couples that once one pass the other one would just kind of give up and die of a broken heart soon after. Because they loved each other that much. I'm sure their marriage wasn't perfect, they had their problems and their issues with both of the kids but they stayed together through all of it neither one of them ever gave up on the other one neither one of them ever quit. They had the kind of marriage that I always hoped one day I would have.

Obviously my love life has not turned out that way, but seeing them together still always gave me hope and I guess it still does.

I can't list all of the things that I am going to miss about her so I guess the only proper way to say it as I'm going to miss everything about her, just everything. I'm going to miss everything about her.

There was a time in my life where I had moved out of Mayville didn't tell anybody where it went and I distanced myself for my mom and my dad and as I was slowly beginning to patch that relationship there were a few times that I did reach out to my Aunt Theresa for help for a ride somewhere you know maybe even a few bucks for some groceries and she never judged me she never lectured me she gave me the ride or she borrowed me the money she was always there for me.

I'm not saying other members of the family weren't I'm just saying the entries that was a little different she almost felt like a second mom sometimes let's face it I probably needed more than one mom i'm kind of a bastard.

So today at 1:30 p.m. I I lost one of the most beautiful people that I have ever known and I am here in what is still a foreign land and I feel so alone and I'm trying to be strong for my mom and she just lost her sister and I'm trying to be strong for my Uncle Jerry because he just lost his wife and he's worried about his son and I am trying to be strong for him because he just lost his mom and he's in the hospital sick with what most likely killed her.

So I try to be as strong and resilient in front of everybody else as possible when inside I am just falling apart cuz it's something I can't make better I can't fix this and I want to I want to fix it so bad.

So I will probably cry myself to sleep after drinking half of my jar of moonshine and I'll wake up tomorrow and I will try to hold him to tears so I can be there for my mom and everybody else because right now they need them more from me and I'll just have to keep my grief inside as much as I can and realize that other than family nobody really cares if I'm broken or not.

But for everything that she ever did for me, heck for me Lisa and Katana at the beginning, the least I can do is be strong for her sisters and her brothers and her children and her husband. The least I can do to honor her memory is to be there for everyone else like she was always there for me.

I don't know about everybody else in the world but she seemed to always see the Best in Me even when I was screwing things up left and right she always Saw the Best in Me. Two summers ago and her and my Uncle Jerry were up in Wisconsin they they picked me up from jail to take me to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription and then to basically break the law and take me to Sue's apartment so that I can give Sue some contact information and some other stuff cuz we really haven't been able to talk cuz I didn't have any money on my books. And even when I walked out of the jail and she's standing there I mean there was no judgment there was nothing she was just happy to see me and happy I was safe. I mean one of the most lowest points in my life where I'd screwed up just about as much as you can she just hugged me and told me she loved me.

And that was my entries I know her kids might have some criticisms and they might not think she was always the best mom and maybe Jerry might think she wasn't always the best wife and maybe my mom and my Aunt Margaret and my uncle's might not think she was always the best sister but I can tell you she was just about the best a screwed up kid like me could ever have and I thank God that she was in my life and I wish she was still here.

For me myself I can definitely say that my life has been better having had her in it and it's going to be a little emptier now that she's gone and I hurt so much I do I hurt so damn much I miss her already.

Oh God I hope I get some sleep tonight, some good sleep unbroken nightmare free but I don't see that happening.

Because of all the covid stuff I mean Uncle Jerry was able to get my Aunt Margaret and my mom in to say goodbye to her but that took a lot of arguing apparently. I was at work and nobody wanted to tell me what was going on because I wanted to make sure that I was safe and it was paying attention to where I was driving and I understand all of that I do but I didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

So I guess that's what I'm going to do right now I'm going to say goodbye. Auntie Theresa this is your nephew Sean, I am so sad to see you go and I am going to miss you so much. But I know you were really sick and I know you were really scared and I know you were in a lot of pain it is cliche as it is I am glad that you're not in pain anymore I really am. But the selfish part of me wishes you were still here because I don't want to say goodbye I don't want to lose you I don't want you to be gone forever because forever it's too long.

I'll do my best to keep an eye on Tim and Jerry and even Jeanette I'll do that for you because I love you so much I just love you so much. And it hurts so bad that you're gone. And I just hope that I can keep making the positive changes in my life that I know you were so proud of I'm so proud to watch me fix myself and I just want to know that you're looking down and you're still proud of me. That'll mean a lot.

So until we meet again someday goodbye my sweet sweet aunt I hope it's peaceful where you are, and that Grandma and Grandpa were waiting for you and that you weren't scared.

And in addition to goodbye, I love you Aunt Theresa I'm going to miss you....

Love Sean

May you rest in peace

#rest in heaven #rest in peace #i miss you already

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valkyrieofsmut · 4 years ago

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At Your Service, Alpha 3

Alpha!Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler) x omega!Reader

Descriptions: Kurt is apartment sitting for his friend and the last thing he expected to find was his one true omega, but there she was. Except she can’t seem to tell they belong together. (Y/n) has dreamed about the day she would meet her one true alpha her whole life. A new, blue, alpha comes to see her every day, and she hates him! Until she starts thinking about him all the time. Her allergies make it so she can’t smell anything, but she knows that her alpha will let her know when he finds her. Won’t he?

A/n- Not much to say, enjoy.

Masterlist

Story!

He was back.

(Y/n) straightened her apron and took a menu to the blue man, setting it on the table and noticing the huge bouquet of roses sitting on the edge of the table.

(Y/n) gave them an apologetic look of distaste; it’s not that she didn’t like them, they just clouded her sinuses so much she couldn’t breath. “Please take your time deciding,” she told him, but he stopped her from leaving.

“I’ve decided.”

She took his order telling him, “I’ll go put that in, sir,” and was turning away to go put it in, when his hand grabbed hers.

(Y/n) blinked in shock and looked back to him. He had a soft smile on his lips, and a shine in his softly glowing, golden eyes.

“My name is Kurt,” he told her, the desire to hear her saying his name burning in his stomach.

(Y/n) smiled and nodded, turning to escape.

She brought out his coffee and pastry, managing to set them on the table without disturbing the bouquet. “Are you expecting a date?” She asked.

Kurt’s head jerked up from where he was staring at (Y/n)’s name tag, licking his lips as he imagined the syllables slipping silkily over his bottom lip.

“Hm?” He asked, startled that maybe the comment was directed at his seeming to stare at her chest.

“The flowers,” she gestured. “Are you- are you waiting for someone?”

Kurt smiled, picking them up. “Actually-” he cut off as he turned and saw her pulling away, looking worried. His smile drooped and his hand, and the flowers, hit the edge of the table.

(Y/n) waved frantically in front of her face, praying that the pollen wouldn’t make it to her. She could practically see it, though, feeling her sinus squeezing and getting irritated before she turned away to sneeze.

“Don’t worry,” she told him with practice as her voice turned more stuffy. “I’m not sick, I just have allergies.” She set the cream pot and sugar bowl down on the table and held her tray at her side as he took her in again, looking down trodden.

“Allergies?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “To pollen.”

“It would be better for you to work inside, then?” He asked.

(Y/n) shook her head. “Dust, too, and the flour and powdered sugar don’t help either, though I’m not really allergic to them.”

He blinked at her, seeming to consider something.

After a minute, she gave a slight bow and walked away, needing to let her sinuses drain.

Later, as she was taking the check from Kurt’s table, he put his hand on hers.

“Mein Liebling- your allergies, do they make it so that you cannot smell anything?” He asked.

(Y/n) paused at the strange words and him grabbing her, but reminded herself that she should be polite and mostly acquiescing to customers, especially alpha ones.

“Pretty much. Yes,” she answered.

He nodded and asked, “are there any allergy pills you can take?”

She was irked, but answered calmly. “Yes.”

“Don’t you take them?”

“They’re very expensive,” she answered, biting back her full response.

“Do you not make enough?” He asked.

She held back the growl in her throat.

“I could get them for you,” he offered.

Who did he think he was? Some high and mighty alpha, mad that she couldn’t smell his stink?

(Y/n) yanked her hand back. “Have a wonderful day,” she told him, her voice flat as she held back her irritation. She stormed away, her fists clenched.

Kurt raised a brow as he watched his omega walk away.

She had a bit of fire in her. But, then, he had wanted an omega that was not going to whine and kowtow to him.

His lips lifted in a smile and he stuck a bill under his coffee cup before he left.

(Y/n) went out to the now vacated table of Mr. High-and-mighty-alpha and started cleaning it. When she picked up his cup, a hundred dollar bill was revealed.

A growl left her throat, startling the other customers in the area, and she turned, seeing them looking at her, taking a breath and forcing herself to be calm as she all but stormed to the kitchen and register, angrily pounding on the keys.

“Woah, what are you doing?” Alex asked as she came up to her, seeing her abuse her equipment.

“I’m starting a tab for Mr. Amazing Alpha,” (Y/n) nearly growled back.

“Oh, he’s amazing, now?” She teased.

“Look what he left on the table,” (Y/n) demanded as she held the bill up for her to examine.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my- he’s probably frantic, he probably thought he left something smaller.”

(Y/n) hesitated.

That made sense; hadn’t she ever accidentally pulled out a twenty thinking it was a five before?

She slowly nodded her head, exiting the process. “I’ll hold it here for him then, for when he realizes.”

Kurt sat on the couch, his nose stuck in a book, trying to read one of Scott’s, but not feeling very into it.

He sighed and listened for noise in the hall again. He was hoping that (Y/n) had used the tip he’d left to get her prescription. Hopefully, in the morning when he went to the cafe, she’d be able to smell him, and know they were destined for each other.

The sun rose and Kurt climbed from the bed, feeling a little stiff until he did his morning flexibility routine, bending more than anyone, even circus performers, had the right to be able to do.

He couldn’t help the smile forming on his lips as he got dressed and headed out to the cafe.

(Y/n) was walking a customer’s order to him when Kurt sat down. She turned and went back inside, gathering a menu to bring to him, even though he’d ordered the same thing every day he’d visited.

He smiled to her and she smiled back pleasantly. He seemed put off by her lack of action, but let it go after a few seconds.

Kurt kept watching her, as normal, and when it was almost time for her to get off, she was in the cafe, putting in a customer’s check, when he entered.

He pulled out his wallet, but she put up her hand.

“I’ll take it from this,” she told him.

“From what?” He asked.

“You left this yesterday,” she told him. “We figured you must be missing it.”

He gave her a cocked eyebrow to show her he didn’t understand.

She held up the money in her hand. “You accidentally tipped me a hundred yesterday.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” he told her.

(Y/n)'s hand slowly started drifting down. “What do you mean?”

“I left it for you, so you could get your allergy medicine.”

(Y/n) felt her hackles raising. “I didn’t give you a hundred dollars of good service,” she told him, trying to stay calm and holding the bill at him.

He looked at it and back to her. “How much for today’s bill?”

“Take it,” she told him, refusing to move forward with the transaction until he took his hundred back.

“No,” he answered. “Go get your allergy medicine with it.”

(Y/n) grit her teeth. “Take it back,” she demanded.

He folded his arms as he stared at her. “I don’t want it,” she told him.

“Neither do I.” She nearly threw the bill at him. “I don’t need your charity!” She tried to exclaim quietly, but she could feel the cooks and Alex watching them.

The bill landed on the counter, but he didn’t pick it up. “Why did you stop taking your allergy pills?”

“None of your business,” she snapped.

There were a few more silent moments where the two of them stared at each other.

“How much for today’s-”

(Y/n) licked her lips as she figured her next move, then snatched the bill from the counter and began pounding on the register.

“Nothing-”

“I don’t want you to use that-” he cut her off, but she snipped right back.

“I’m starting a tab, you come here often enough.”

Kurt growled. “Don’t,” he demanded.

She closed the register. “Too late.”

He turned and left quickly.

She was breathing heavily, and turned to glare at the cooks, only Alex still looking at her.

Kurt huffed as he shut the apartment door behind him.

He could feel his pants squeezing him.

The fire in her eyes, the way she licked her lips, the angry scent coming from her- it enticed him to no end. He’d nearly jumped over the counter and pushed her to the wall to kiss all of the defiant words from her lips.

He needed to make (Y/n) realize she was his- fast, before any of his alpha instincts took over his good sense.

He heard her walk down the hall and go into her apartment. He hesitated at the door, trying to stop himself, but he opened the door and stepped out, looking around. No one was in sight.

Kurt unzipped his jeans and reached down, under his testes to where the scent gland routinely made the most concentrated smell, and gathered some smell.

He looked around again before wiping his fingers on the doorway of (Y/n)’s door. He quickly left wide trails of his scent down both sides of her door before going back to Scott’s apartment.

Tag List!

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#alpha!kurt wagner #kurt wagner x you #nightcrawler x reader #Marvel AU #angst #abo dynamics #A/B/O verse #a/b/o #omegaverse #romance #multi part story #X-men #x-men au #omega reader #Kurt wagner x y/n #Alpha!Nightcrawler #valkyrieofsmut #not a normal omega!reader

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