#then she leaves again and if everything goes okay only gets the last month of the season with them

[oval3000]

Chapter 2

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse Reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

(This story might suck idk)

-------------------------------------------------------

Jacob slammed one of the medicine drawers close after getting the bottle of pills from a specific patient. "I don't know what miracle came down here, but we haven't had an accident in a month." He said to a fellow nurse standing next to him.

"Don't jinx it," she said grabbing the pill bottle from his hands.

"You know," he stared at your section, watching as you typed what you needed into the computer," ever since she started working here, König hasn't bashed anyone's heads."

"Well it's only been a month since she started working here, I wouldn't be relieved yet." She said, popping two pills into a Dixie cup.

"Yeah well I'm very optimistic about this." He got up and walked away. "Oh if the drawer gets stuck again, just bang on it a few times."

"It would be better if they just get new ones," she sighed, walking away towards her row of patients.

He rolled his eyes, "please they're too stingy to buy new bed sheets."

You have been working here for a month and so far everything was okay. You do what you need to do and things go smoothly.

As for König, he hasn't said or do anything towards you. You honestly felt like they were fooling you by telling you all those stories about his past nurses and guards.

You learned more about the staff names on all floors. König's two guards are named Eli and Gabriel. They both make sure that nothing happens to you aswell as any other staff.

You met Dr. Smith. You first impression of her was a little stiff. Mainly because she was direct and serious. She doesn't really make small talk to any of the nurses only the administrator. She also doesn't really fond of you. Well it's not like she hates you, is more of she critics anything you do. From the way you gather the medical supplies to the way you check patients vitals. During her visit with König, you stay outside the room so you don't know what goes on in there.

You saw when she exited the room alongside Eli and Gabriel, taking König back to his room. You didn't need to look up to know that Dr. Smith was walking towards, her heels made it obvious. "He will no longer take his usual calming medication, he'll take this one." She gave you the doctors order.

"benzodiazepines?" He was fine with his usual one.

She looked at you with her eyebrows forward "Yes. Is there a problem."

"Wouldn't the short term use cause him more problems compared to how he is now. I mean, he's been doing good lately and his oth-'

"Are you a doctor (Y/n)?" She tilted her head as she gives you a serious stern look.

"No."

"Right, I call shots for what is good for my patients. So if I tell you to order his new medicine then you order his new medicine! Is there a problem!?" Her high pitch tone caused the other nurses to look at you.

You look around mentally slapping yourself in the face. Of course she knows more than you, you are just a nurse. "No, Dr. Smith. I'll order them asap."

"Good. Make sure that his primary physician knows about it too and next time you question me, go back to school to get a lab coat. You are a nurse, you do what I say."

She left leaving the echo of her heels scraping the white tile floors. You cursed under your breath while picking up the phone. Calling in orders for prescription is a pain in the ass. Well the hospital it is, you're not familiar with a psychiatric hospital. The last thing you need is to be at hold for three hours trying to get it through.

"We need medical attention at room #526!" You heard Eli. You quickly ran to König's room and saw Gabriel on the floor, holding his mouth as blood was coming out. You turned your head to take a look at König. He was standing there with blood on his nuckles. He's tall, you never got a good look on how tall he was. This man is a mountain an actual mountain.

"What happened?" Jacob entered in seeing the mess.

"I need gauze pads and bandages.' You said holding onto Gabriel. König saw as you attended him. You're his nurse not Gabriel's. You should be attending König not him. The other guards came in to help Gabriel getting up while the others trying to hold König down. Jacob came in with the medical tray. He flicked a needle, trying to get any air bubbles out. You got up as they took Gabriel out, "what are you doing?"

"Everytime he does this, we have to put him down" He made his way towards König while two other guards were trying to hold him down. Compared to the guards themselves they looked like little children against König.

You went in front of Jacob, "You don't have to do that. It will make him think more irrationally. Please he is my patient."

He lowered the needle down giving you a sigh, "Fine. I'll go make a report. But you still can't be here unless two guards are present."

"Okay." The two guards let König's arms go.

Eli and Jacob left to talk to the administrator. You picked up the gauze pads and bandage from the trey.

You haven't made eye contact with König. You've always been too nervous about that, but you had to see him to examine him. You saw him, you saw his face. He had stuble. His features are strong and sharp, his jawline looks like it can cut anybody. He had scars on his face one through his mouth and the other one through his eye. His eyes are blue a nice clear blue, which stood out against his dark under circles. He was probably the most handsome patient you have ever seen. No, not patient, the most handsome men you have ever seen.

You walk towards him, slowly. You looked up to him, your face aligned to his torso . His white t-shirt was snuged and hugged all his curves on his abdomen. You can see the outline of his perfect abs and chest area. His biceps make it look the arm holes of his shirt are going to pop open. His hair was a perfect shade of brown, almost golden. Like before, it wasn't long or short, it was a good length, enough to make a little lazy ponytail.

You stuck out your hand as he placed his on top of yours. Your hand looks barley visible compared to his. You took a peace of gauze and dabbed it on his bloody nuckle. He didn't have any wounds from the punch he gave grabriel. If anything, the blood you are wiping away is Gabriel's.

König stared at you. He saw how concentrated you are with him, how gentle you are with him and how carring you are to him. The fact that you stood up for him from getting sedated, it was a like a call for him that you are his officially.

I mean he did it for you. No one knows the other half the story, they always accuse of the one that looks guilty. When Eli and Gabriel went to take him back to his room, König heard the comments they made about you. All the comments made by Gabriel.

Sure, Gabriel is nice to you, but he looks like a jerk and he is one. He's nice to you, but behind your back he thinks you are an object. Talking about how he wants to take you, not for a date, but for a nice dinner so that he can fuck you later in his car and most likely never talk to you again afterwards...unless he's desperate for sex again

König couldn't let that slide. Talking about you like a sex toy. Talking about you like you don't have emotions. Yes, König has killed men and women that don't really deserve it, but you. Someone that stood up for him. That attends when he needs or wants something. He wanted Jell-O during lunch, but no one was giving him one. Then you came inside the dining room and saw that he didn't have Jell-O like the rest so you gave him one. It's like you read his mind. You don't deserve to be treated this way. It reminds him of himself when he was a kid.

Being bullied for just being nice, for being who he is. He wants to protect you that's all he wanted to do. So he punch Gabriel after hearing his plan to seduce and fuck you then leaving you alone for yourself without a care in the world. He was easy, just one punch and he was down on floor holding his bloody mouth.

You cleaned him up and sat him down on his bed. He wanted to grab your waist and pull you closer to him. To kiss you as a thank you.

He was never lucky with the women, who would be with someone who's a looser. He remembers the time in high-school when girls will ask him out only to laugh at his face when he thought they were serious. Before he left to go to the military he met a girl. The girl just wanted some free drinks so she talked into him for some free stuff. He lost his virginity to her and felt as if he found the one. But to her he was her wallet, a way to get free things and rides for her and her friends. He bought her flowers, teddy bears, chocolates. Took her out to romantic dates that he tried so hard to assemble. Only to walk in on her having sex with another men, in his bedroom on his bed in his place that he pays for. He hoped that she was just drunk or scared..maybe, but no.

"Seriously König, you thought that I cared about you? I mean you are not even good at sex. I was just using you for the free stuff. I just wanted free drinks jeez! It's not my fault you couldn't take a hint."

He saw how they both laughed at his face. How they both just sat there naked, laughing at him as if he was the punchline to a joke.

"Believe me I never wanted this to happen! Especially after getting that dam abortion. But it doesn't matter cause you paid for it."

She wanted money to buy a new dress. She used it to have an abortion. He felt tears running down his face. They didn't feel bad, no, they laughed harder at him at how pathetic he was.

"Why would I even be with a looser."

He remembered how those kids would push him down the slide. How they would rip away his comic books. How they broke everyone one of his toys.

"Looser!"

"Looser!Looser!"

his fist turned white, he felt his fingernails, cutting deep into his palm. The girl he thought was the one was taunting him along his boy toy. He walked up to them. They expected him to bawl like a baby and beg for an apology. Instead, he choked her. His hands gripped tight around her neck. He felt some punches coming from her boy toy, telling König to stop, to let her go.

He saw as the life of her eyes went away. He heard as her neck cracked and dropped her back on the bed. He turned the guy, choking him to death aswell.

He hid the bodies, ran away, joined the military and found a new way to live.

You heard other male voices coming from the elevator and the administrator coming in. "What happened!?"

"He attacked Gabriel." You said to him, you saw what was behind him, other doctors.

"Put him in a straitjacket." He pointed to König

"What no!" You said getting in between him and König.

"Excuse me!?"

"Putting him in a straitjacket isn't going to solve anything."

He crossed his arms while looking down at you "Doing nothing will solve nothing, (Y/n)!"

You turned to König who had a stoic expression "I know, but I'm sure there are oth-"

"What are you again, (Y/n)?" he blurted out.

You knew where this is going. Twice in one day, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "A nurse."

He gave you a small smirk, the same one Dr. Smith gave you. "Exactly. A nurse. I'm your superior, you don't get to tell me what to do. Your job is to take his vitals, and give him medication not to throw orders around! Do I make myself clear!" He stepped closer to you. You wanted to back away, but you felt frozen. He was directly infront of your face. "Now, move aside so we can our jobs!"

You looked down on the floor. You never felt so light headed as you did now. The other voices coming from them were echoes. You felt nausea and sweating. Your heart felt like it was pounding from your chest, but it sounded like a blur. "S-sorry.. sir." You always feel week when people yell at you.

"Next time you do something like that, you're out of here, (Y/n). " He said as you all watched König being put in a straitjacket.

The administrator, Ben, saw König. He was taken back a bit. The look he gave him. As if he was killing him right on the spot. König no longer had the stoic expression, he gave him a death stare.

Who does he think he is to yell at you for being nice to him. To threatened her. They are all the same. Everyone here is all same. The same kids that shoved him around the boys bathroom when he was 10. The same as those girls that laughed at him that laughed at his face.

But instead of him being the victim, is you. You're so weak and innocent, how can someone treat you like that.

But it's okay because you'll have König by his side. He'll make sure to save you.

To care for you.

To love you.

To make you his.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #fanfic #yandere konig #könig #konig #konig x reader #könig x y/n #yandere könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #könig x you

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling animal rescue/welfare on my mom who loves her pets?

My mom has 2 cats and 1 dog. I want to start off by saying that she doesn't physically abuse her animals.

They're in a weird state of being really emotionally spoiled and completely physically neglected. The dog sleeps in bed with her and is always on the sofa, doesn't get told off when he pees and poops in the house, and the cats are always getting cuddles. The cats are getting kinda fat because they're fed a lot.

My mom is an alcoholic and she doesn't look after herself or her home at all. It's been years since she showered or bathed, she goes weeks without changing her clothes except for when she works, her house is genuinely falling completely apart. Cupboard doors are falling off at the hinges and propped up with buckets, doors don't close, carpets are coming up off the floor, wallpaper is peeling, the shower door fell off and shattered, the toilet lid is cracked in half, the floors are too dirty to step on without shoes, the entire house STINKS of animal urine and there are stains everywhere. A couple of years back she had an insect infestation in one of the bedrooms.

Now, my mom loves her pets and really emotionally relies on them. Ever since I moved out she's been alone and has regressed even worse because when she's at home she has nothing to do but drink and watch TV. The pets are her only company most days.

However, her bad hygiene and home care translates to them. It has been YEARS since the dog was walked, and months since he even got a cursory trip over the road to the small grass area outside her house. His fur is always matted, and he recently had fleas (god knows how when he doesn't leave the house but there you go). He has bald patches of fur missing. He pees and poops all over the floors and carpets because he just doesn't get let outside to do it enough - and he runs away or hides when you find it so he 100% knows he's not supposed to, he just doesn't have a choice because he's not able to go into the garden. His claws are always so long they're bothering him when he walks, and as gross as it is to describe there have been COUNTLESS times I've visited and he's had literal shit caked onto his fur around his tail because he's had diarrhea and when I've pointed it out that he needs to be washed my mom brushes it off with "It's only a little bit" and continues to let him onto the bed/couch.

The cats are mildly better off because they can clean themselves, but their litter trays are always OVERFLOWING - like, genuinely, mountains of cat poop piling up in the trays to the point where they're going on the floor because they don't have room in the tray - and one of them is sleeping in a bed that is Caked in vomit stains, clumps of hair, other miscellaneous marks, all of that.

I've called someone about it before when I still lived there, and a woman did stop by to check it out and told my mom that the cat litters were unacceptable, but my mom just lies to them. According to her the dog gets walked twice a day without fail, gets a ton of enrichment, everything, and you can't really prove her to be lying. The woman told her she'd drop by in a week to check on the litters, my mom kept them clean until she came back and gave the okay, and then just went right back to neglecting them and nothing was done about it.

I have no idea what to do anymore but I want to call again and really impress upon them that they're not being cared for. I sent photos and video evidence last time along with an explanation, but it doesn't seem like it got me anywhere at all. I just don't know what else to do. I've brought up the idea of taking at least the dog with me to my new place (it's very nearby so she'd still be able to visit him and I'd be able to walk him up to her house), but she VEHEMENTLY objected and told me she'd never be able to let him go.

I'm not sure what it would do tbh, even disregarding that she'd probably just get a new pet I would be genuinely worried she'd lose all interest in life if they were taken away.

TL;DR Mom's alcoholism means she doesn't look after her pets and they're not being cared for at all, but taking them away would severely impact her mental health.

WIBTA for calling animal services on her again?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #unsanitary cw

[dreamingundone]

When The Morning Comes

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OFC (could be read as reader-insert, no use of Y/N) Summary: Jake doesn’t do serious. He was really upfront and honest about that. So why is he he one getting really tired of saying goodbye every morning? Rating: PG-13 for swears. Words: 3K+ Author’s Note: Here I am again writing fic in the year 2023 because I haven’t stopped thinking about Jake Seresin since last summer. This is slightly Band of Brothers adjacent because I’m incapable of putting away that particular hyper-fixation but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand this. Disclaimer: I don’t own the character Jake or Top Gun: Maverick. Please don’t re-post or translate my work without my permission. There's probably some inaccuracies here though I did my best to Google a few things, but even so, please be nice.

He watches her as she works out of the corner of his eye. He tells himself that he's not seeking her out every time he wanders the corridors at the hangar, but it just happens.

She's impossible to ignore.

There's a sinking feeling in his gut as she very much doesn't make eye contact with him, and in fact, she brushes by him as she leaves the room without so much as a glance.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

.

Six months earlier

"Listen up!" Maverick calls over the din, and when he can't get anyone's attention except for Dagger Squad, Admiral Bates does the job with a sharp whistle.

The hangar goes quiet, and they sit quietly as they listen to the mission briefing. Three months of training, and then they'll be shipped out to God knows where for God knows how long.

While he's pretty used to this particular way of life by now, he sees some of the other squads he doesn't know sharing nervous looks.

There's a group standing closer to the door that he's never had the pleasure to interact with - the medical staff from Sick Bay. The doctors look bored, but there's a new medic who's caught his eye from the minute he walked into the room.

She's taking notes or something, and Jake smirks as she looks up, meeting his eyes briefly. She rolls her eyes and looks back to her notebook, which only makes him smile wider.

He introduces himself the first time he gets a chance, later at the Hard Deck.

"I'm Jake," he says, holding out a hand.

"Good for you." She says, not looking up from her phone.

"Waiting on someone?"

"Someone else, definitely."

There's something about the way she says it - there's no heat in her words really, even though he knows she's trying to put him off. Look -- everyone thinks Jake is an asshole, and he knows he can be sometimes, but he doesn't want to stick around where he's clearly not wanted, even if all he wants to do is sit here with her and learn everything there is to know about her.

"Enjoy your drink," he says, and leaves her there looking a little surprised, if the crease between her brows is any indication.

.

It's a few days later when he has an excuse to see her again, though not under the circumstances he would have wished.

He's being semi-held up between Javy and Rooster, and he's scowling. "I'm fine," he grumbles.

"Sure, tell that to the control panel you smashed your head off of." Javy says, and Jake would roll his eyes, it's just that he can't really see straight, so he thinks he'd just pass out.

Okay, so he had to emergency land. At least he didn't have to eject.

"Put him here." He hears her voice, kind but authoritative. "Lieutenant Seresin, I thought I told you the other night I wasn't interested."

Javy snorts, and Rooster bites back a grin.

"Desperate times calls for desperate measures." Jake says, groaning as he lies back on the exam table.

Then she's there, looming over him, and the irony isn't lost on him that this is the first time she's looking him directly in the eye. Well, her and her flashlight, anyway.

"Pupils a bit larger than I'd like." She mutters. He finds himself really unable to do anything other than watch her as his vision wavers. "Concussion, obviously." She says. "Is the light bothering you?"

"A little." He answers.

She hums in sympathy. "You need stitches. Give me a minute." She says, and then her warmth is gone, and the bright light overhead is all he can see, making him close his eyes.

He sighs. This really isn't the impression he wanted to make.

Dimly, he registers Javy and Rooster leaving the room, saying they needed to go tell the rest of the Daggers how he was doing. He's sure Phoenix and Bob are pacing somewhere. Mav, too.

"Stupid." He mutters.

"What?" She asks, sounding offended.

"Nothing. Not you." He says, eyes opening as she leans over him again, hissing when she wipes an antiseptic over his forehead. "A little warning would have been nice."

"Don't be a baby." She chides, face full of determination. "Stay still."

He lets her work for a few minutes before he tries again. "I meant that I felt stupid for this."

She meets his eyes quickly. "Sounded like you did what you had to do so you didn't kill yourself."

"You were listening?" He asks, surprised. He feels dumber that he didn't realize that. Of course the medics were on standby.

"It's my job." She says. She pauses for a minute, glancing at her wrist. Her wristwatch is turned the wrong way round, so the face of it is on the inside. It's very military, and it makes him smile. It's how he can spot another Navy guy a mile away.

Hers is different than his, though, the face worn and scratched.

"Is that thing even ticking?" He asks as she gets back to work.

Her tongue is between her teeth as she completes the next few stiches, the sight making him a little distracted.

"It was my great-grandfather's."

He feels like he's bothering her, so he doesn't ask any more questions, but she surprises him by continuing.

"He's the reason I wanted to get into medicine. He was an Army medic."

"And that was his service watch?"

"Made it through the drop to Normandy and back."

Jake's eyebrows rise. "A paratrooper."

She nods. "He died before I was old enough to figure out what I wanted to do, but this watch has kept on ticking. Feels like I've got him over my shoulder advising me on what to do."

"That's really nice." Jake says honestly, and again he catches a surprised look on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says, maybe seeing the way his features droop. "You can sit up," she says off-hand before continuing. "I wasn't really fair to you. I've just-- to be honest, I've heard some things. Made me think..."

Jake nods. He knows what everyone says. And to be fair, he's never given anyone other than his friends any reason to doubt the rumors about him. What's the point? He'd rather let everyone on North Island think what they want than spending time fighting his reputation. It's not worth it, especially when he leaves often for months at a time.

"Anyway. That wasn't fair. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, pasting on a smile he doesn't really feel. "No harm done. I don't really... I don't really do serious. So the rumors aren't far off." He doesn't know why he says it. It's the truth - he's scared of getting attached. He's no good at being someone's boyfriend and he knows it. But still -- it feels weird to say it out loud to her.

"Well. Okay then, Lieutenant. You're going to be grounded for awhile, unfortunately. Come back next week and we'll see how you're doing."

.

Over the next few weeks, they do more mission prep, which means the medical team and the Daggers are together more often than not. They'll all be together as a wing on the carrier, and it's important that everyone knows all the details of every minute of the mission.

They have enough downtime too, and that's where he really finds himself in deep trouble. All because of her.

Phoenix has taking a liking to her, and really, everyone else has too. It's hard not to like her.

He's watching her now, contemplative eyes as he tilts his beer bottle back to his lips, and his heart does a funny little flip at the sound of her laugh.

He's surprised when she makes her way over to him at the end of the night, elbowing him lightly.

"All alone, Hangman?"

He smiles wryly. "Only got room in my heart for one lucky lady, Doc."

The nickname was her great-grandfather's, and it's stuck to her too. The first time Mav called her that, she got a little misty-eyed, and Jake found it so endearing he could barely look at her.

She rolls her eyes. "You get back up in the air tomorrow."

He nods, having been cleared by the medical team earlier that day. He can't wait. He misses the adrenaline and the sound of the engines roaring underneath him.

"Thanks to you," he says, nudging her in return. She'd been like a drill sergeant the last few weeks, watching him like a hawk to make sure he stuck to paperwork and didn't overwork himself while he recovered from his concussion.

"Just doing my job." Her standard answer. He thinks it's interesting that someone so confident has a hard time accepting any praise.

"No, it's something else." He says, taking another pull from his bottle. "You were born to do this, I think. You've got a special touch."

She blinks rapidly, and for a horrifying moment, he thinks she might cry. She clears her throat. "How many of those have you had?" She gestures towards the bottle in his hand. "I said one beer, Seresin."

"Not even a full one." He assures her. "And I mean that, Doc."

The way she's looking at him sends his heart racing. Is she--? No, he's imagining it, that she looks like she's leaning in a little, her lips parted invitingly. That's impossible.

"Thank you, Jake." She says softly, and it's the first time she's ever called him by his first name. It takes everything inside of him to stop from leaning into her a little bit more, and in the end he doesn't fight it.

They sit there, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, in a comfortable silence for the rest of the night. And if her pinky brushes his just a little on the bartop, he doesn't draw attention to it. He just lets it happen, enjoying the warmth unfurling inside of him.

.

The briefing where they get their assignments for the mission is tense. This is a dangerous one. Top secret, and not even the medic team is allowed in the room with the Daggers while they get briefed.

There's some speculation that they won't even come along - that this mission is so secret, the fewer eyes on it, the better.

It makes something twist inside him, the thought that he might not see her until he comes home from deployment. He hasn't had that feeling in a really, really long time.

Afterwards, he's wandering the corridors aimlessly when he quite literally runs smack into her.

"Oh!" She says, surprised, and he grabs at her arms instinctively, holding her upright.

"Sorry, Doc."

"Are you okay?" She asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Fine. I--" He looks up, meeting her eyes. "Will you go to dinner with me?"

She swallows. "What?"

"Look, I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm starting to think you aren't either. But I also like you, and I'd like to take you to dinner. If you want." It all comes out in a rush.

"Okay." She says quietly.

"Okay?"

"Okay." She repeats.

.

They don't even make it through dinner.

He's so distracted by the sight of her in civilian clothes that he can barely form a coherent sentence all night.

It must show on his face, and he really feels like an asshole for it, but she also responds to it, so he doesn't stop himself from staring at her, not this time.

Somewhere in the middle of the dinner course, she puts down her fork. "Are you going to take me home now?"

He doesn't think he's ever scribbled his signature on a check so fast in his life.

After that it's all a blur of heated gazes, wandering hands, and finally, mouths meeting. It's all flushed skin and, for Jake, trembling hands. He tries not to examine that particular fact too much.

In the morning, she leaves before he wakes up. He feels a little weird about it, but it's also how it has to be. It's how he's always done things. And if that's good for her too, even better.

.

They go on like that for weeks. He tries not to think about how each morning it's harder and harder to watch her get dressed in the haze when she thinks he's still asleep.

He tries not to think about how she always looks back over her shoulder before she goes, something soft in her eyes.

He tries not to count down the days between now and his deployment date.

On a Friday morning, he's making no show of the fact that he's awake when she slides out from under the sheets and starts dressing.

"You could stay." He says, voice a little hoarse.

She pauses, but pulls her shirt over her head. "Don't do that." She says, voice quiet but firm.

"Just for breakfast."

"This is what you wanted, Jake. I'm just trying to make this easy for both of us."

His face twists. "And I can't change my mind?"

"Actually, no." She says, voice harsh. "Because you've said to me a hundred times that you weren't looking for anything serious. Staying longer, spending days together... that's serious. I'm just doing what you wanted."

Maybe I don't want that anymore. The thought rattles around in his brain, but he doesn't say it.

"It doesn't have to mean anything." He says without thinking, and the look she gives him is withering.

"You've been doing your best not to let any of this mean anything, Seresin."

"We're going by last names now?"

"For fuck's sake, Jake!" She hisses, tugging her pants on. "I should have trusted my instincts with you. I should have listened to my gut."

He sits up straighter now, hurt lacing his tone. "So you've just been miserable for the last few months, right? None of this has been pleasurable for you, and that's my fault."

"I didn't say that."

"You know what? Don't let me keep you. Must have been a moment of insanity." He says, voice hard. "You're right. Keep it simple, keep it meaningless. That's perfect."

She doesn't say anything else as she gathers the rest of her stuff and slams the door behind her.

He doesn't see her again until the final mission briefing before deployment.

They're being deployed to the same carrier. That wasn't supposed to happen. The whole reason he decided to take a chance, to finally act on these feelings that he's afraid to identify... it was spurred on by the idea that he may come back in a year to find her elsewhere.

Their eyes meet across the hangar. There's nothing friendly in them now.

He swallows hard. This is going to be a shit-show.

.

They're out in the middle of the goddamned ocean when he, yet again, has to race to Rooster's rescue. It's not nearly as terrifying as the last time it happened, but he's still furious at his friend for risking his life once again. Rooster skids into the carrier with his landing gear barely hanging on, and the rough landing has him doing his best impression of Jake himself all those months ago when he nearly smashed his face into the control panel.

He has to help Rooster get to the Sick Bay because he can't do it on his own, and no matter how much he wants to avoid seeing her, he needs to get help, and Doc is the best, there's no doubt about it.

They ignore each other, though he watches her. He can't help it. She handles Rooster like he's the most important person in the room, and it twists something inside Jake, though he knows that's what makes her invaluable.

She leaves before he can say anything to her.

"All set?" He asks Rooster gruffly, who arches an eyebrow.

"Didn't think you cared so much, Hangman." He gets up from the exam table, hands brushing over the thin line of stitches near his eyebrow.

Jake rolls his eyes.

"Oh!" Rooster says suddenly, eyes lighting up. "It's not me you're here for--"

"Shut up."

Bradshaw's not lying though, which makes Jake grit his teeth even harder.

"Secret's safe with me." He says with a wink, leaving Jake standing in Sick Bay by himself, questioning basically every life decision he's made to get to this point.

In the corridor outside Sick Bay, she's lingering. Pacing.

Jake stops. He's not sure how to get past her without speaking to her. And truthfully, he knows he owes her an apology. He owes her more than that, but he doesn't know how.

"He's going to be okay," She says. "Just so you know."

"I know. Had you fixing him up, after all."

"You sounded scared on the comms."

He shakes his head. "He's reckless."

"He's your friend. It's okay to worry." It's okay to feel things, she doesn't say, but he hears it like she shouted it.

He puts his hands on his hips. "I worry a lot, actually. I worry about a lot of things."

She's just watching him warily, and he goes on, actually unable to stop rambling.

"I worried from the second I met you that I was going to fall in love with you, and that's exactly what happened."

Her mouth falls open, and he plows on.

"I worried that if I let myself get too close, I'd never recover when inevitably you found someone better than me. I didn't think we were getting deployed together. I thought I'd never see you again, that I'd come home and you'd have found someone that deserves you. So I put a boundary there, and I never should have. Even when you respected it, I got angry with you. Because I did want more."

"Jake, what the fuck?" She breathes, and he laughs.

"I know. I'm an asshole, and I'm sorry. I just-- I couldn't stop myself. With every little thing I learned about you, I just fell a little harder. And that was never the deal. So even when you acted like... like you could've felt the same way, I didn't give you the chance." He smiles, but it's more like a wince. "Call it self preservation, I guess."

"You're so stupid, Lieutenant Seresin." Her voice is shaky. "As if I would have thought about anyone else for a year, even if we were separated."

His head snaps back up to meet her eyes. "Doc?"

"I've been falling for you this whole time too, you idiot. And the only reason I didn't want to stay that morning was because I'd worked so hard to stop myself wanting more than you were willing to give."

"I'm sorry."

"You keep saying that."

"I can keep saying it, if it helps."

She takes two quick strides in his direction while they're alone, and kisses him. Quick and hard, it sets his skin afire and his heart pounding.

"Back to work, Hangman." She says against his lips as she lowers herself down to her feet. "We'll talk about this later." Her thumb presses into the dimple on his cheek.

"If I have to, Doc." He says, and this time when he watches her walk away, he knows it's for the last time.

He's not going to let her out of his sight for a long time, if he can help it.

#hangman x oc #jake seresin x oc #top gun maverick fanfiction #HELP I'VE WRITTEN FIC AGAIN #you can thank my obsession with G.P. for this one

[yelenasdiary]

Yes sorry. So if it’s going to be adhd maybe in a meeting reader doesn’t catch up with the explanation of the mission and it fails?? So the commander (make it an OC so we don’t hate anyone) is disappointed and blames reader and punishment (yk) later her girlfriend(s) and the avengers (or the ones that know you can choose) defend her and comfort her? I don’t know I’m not very inspired rn so if you want to save this request for later it’s completely fine.❤️❤️❤️

-🐚

We're a Team, A Family!

Pairing: WandaNat x ADHD! Reader

Summary: After a mission goes wrong, you are blamed and punished for it, leaving your girlfriends to take care of you for a little misunderstanding. 

Angst | Fluff | Comfort | Light Language Warning | 1.5K | 

Translation: moya lyubov (my love), 

OG Ask: Yayyy tomorrow I will congratulate you! And for a request i loved your wanda x adhd!reader so if you could do another neurodivergent reader with Wanda/Nat/Wandanat (you choose) and really angsty but happy ending? ❤️❤️

AC: So sorry it took me a while to get around to this request, please remember that I do not have ADHD myself so I can never fully understand the struggles that come with having it. I write this based of research and if I have said anything wrong or misunderstood anything, please let me know. I hope you enjoy this x 

You racked your brain for what exactly your boss, Michael or, Mick for short, was basically yelling at you for. A mission that only now made sense to you, failed. A simple job, in an out kind of mission that during the mission run down just simply just went over your head. It was your fault, all you can remember is that your mind was running what felt like a million miles per second and was clouded with the excitement of going on a movie date with your girlfriends, Wanda and Natasha. 

"You're suspending from any missions for two weeks!" Mick snapped, you swore you could see the vein in the middle of his forehead, he was mad. "But sir!" you tried to plead, "I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I promise!" you added but the man shook his head, "once is one too many times! What happens is something more serious happened? What if somebody died?! What if you died?!" He looked at you, dead in the eyes. "I won't risk it. Two weeks of desk duty, that's final!" he added. 

You left his office with a sigh, trying to hold back your tears as you made your way back to your room. Mick had only been on the team as the new leader for a few months and you couldn't help but feel that he didn't understand that sometimes things can be a little tricky for you. He knew you had ADHD but still, he refused to make sure that you were okay and instead it's like that detail about you slipped his mind. 

Wanda walked into the room with a soft smile, she had just gotten back from a shopping trip with Maria to get groceries for the compound when she saw you under the covers sobbing quietly to yourself. 

"Honey, what's wrong?" Wanda asked in a soft tone, gently pulling the covers back to see that you'd been crying for longer than 5 minutes. "Oh, love" she added when you looked at her, tears soaking your face as you sat up. Wanda wasted no time in shuffling next to you and wrapping her arms around you, placing a soft kiss on your temple. "What's going on?" she asked in a gentle tone. 

"It's mick. He's put me on desk duty for the mission that south" you replied just as Natasha walked into the room, her happy expression quickly turning to concern the moment she saw you in tears wrapped in Wanda's arms. Instantly, she doesn't care whatever was on her mind as she joined Wanda and sat on the other side beside you. 

"What's with the tears darling?" she asked, gently taking one of your hands and stroking your knuckles with her thumb. 

"Mick is pissed with me because of the last mission, my mind was everywhere during the mission rundown, and I didn't catch everything that was said. Because of that and the mission failing, he's put me on desk duty for two weeks!" you explained, tears of anger quickly filled your eyes once more as Wanda gently stroked you back for comfort. 

This wasn't the first time Mick had brought tears to your eyes and Natasha had had enough of the new leader's harshness towards you. Nat sent a look to Wanda as to say she was going to have her own set of words with the man while Wanda would stay and look after you. 

"It'll be okay moya lyubov" Natasha placed a kiss on the top of your hand, "I'm going to go get some of your favourite snacks, is there anything you would like?" she asked. She knew if she told you what she was really going off to do that you would stop her and tell her you didn't need her to fight your battles for you. "Some ice cream? Please?" You looked at your girlfriend who just smiled softly and nodded before making her way out of the room. 

Nat made her way to the compounds living room where Tony, Steve, Bucky, Thor and Bruce sat around talking about things the red head didn't care about. "We've got to talk to Michael!" she announced, nothing but the need to protect you filled her mind. 

"What's he done now?" Bruce asked. 

Natasha explained the situation from what you had told her and instantly the men's moods switched. They weren't happy with the way Mick had treated you and agreed with Natasha that something had to change. Not another minute was wasted before the six avengers made their way down the hall to Micks office. 

Meanwhile, Wanda was made to get your tears to come to a stop as she kept you close to her, stroking your back and telling you sweet nothings while you waited for Natasha to return with your comfort food. "I just wish he would be a little more understanding" you sighed as Wanda gently wiped the tears from your cheeks. "I know sweetheart, he will, trust me" she replied with a soft smile. 

"Mick, we need to talk!" Natasha spoke with sternness as she and the others welcomed themselves into the leader's office. The man looked up from the documents in front of him and placed his pen down. "I don't want to hear it Natasha" he spoke. 

"I don't care. You will hear it. You need to back off on Y/n! They're doing their best, they're a great avenger, they help keep this team together! You upset them, you upset us, all of us! Now, I know you've only been here for a short amount of time, but this is a family. We don't treat one another like crap, we understand each other, and we help on another. So whatever you have against Y/n stops now!"

"Natasha, you need to understand that without punishment, nobody around here is going to learn. Y/n messed up big time and I refuse to have somebody on this team die because they are incapable of listening to some important information!" Michael rose from his seat, looking Natasha in the eyes. 

"And you need to understand that you're not like us" Tony stepped forward, "you don't understand what it is we do. Shield sent you to watch over us and I get that but none of us like you, none of us want you here. Truth be told, none of us listen to you, we make our own plans, we work as a team. One too many times have you upset Y/n and we are all over it" he adds. 

Michael's eyes scanned the room as he saw there was no winning, he hated his job, less drama the better the thought. "Fine, but if this happens again, I'm speaking to nick!" He slumped himself down in his seat in defeat. 

"Considering Nick saved Y/n and brought them to us; I don't think he's going to side you either" Natasha smirked before leaning slightly forward to make sure Michael was listening to her next words. "If you upset my girlfriend or anybody else on this team again, I promise you that you won't make it home to your pathetic little life. Do I make myself clear" 

With a sigh and defeated nod, Michael understood and made a mental promise to himself to get a transfer before it was too late. The others left his office proud of themselves, after months of wanting to get rid of him, they believe they finally did it. 

"Is Y/n okay?" Steve asked as they walked back to the living room. 

"After I get them some ice cream, I think they'll be okay" Natasha smiled softly.

----

Later that night you were in bed, cuddled up closely to your girlfriends while picking at the takeout that was ordered while the three of you watched trashy movies that made you forget how upset you were today. Wanda twirled with your hair while Natasha drew random shapes on your shoulder. 

Usually, you would be the first to fall asleep but to both you and Natasha's surprise, it was Wanda. Her soft snores made you and Nat smile softly to one another before Nat made sure the three of you were covered by the covers. "Thank you, Nat" you spoke ever so softly, not wanting to wake Wanda. 

"For what cutie?" Nat smiled softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

"You know what" you playfully raised a brow at her, "for talking to Mick" you added.

Natasha gently brushed her thumb over your cheek, "nobody has the right to make you feel the way you did today, nobody. Mistakes happen and I know you would never intentionally put any of us in danger. I think Mick will be gone before the end of the week and if not, if he ever upsets my love ever again, he knows what's to come. Get some rest, we'll do something fun tomorrow to really help forget about today" she smiled softly once more at you before gently pressing her lips against yours.

Taglist: @itsmv3 | @katiemay-025 | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | 

#wandanat #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #natahsa romanoff #natahsa romanoff x reader #avengers #marvel #fanfiction

[sunsetsimon]

i’ve been lurking through your page for the past few days and i’m screaming, crying, kicking my feet at simon. ANYWAYS— i’ve had a scary interaction yesterday evening when i parked my car and a guy opened my door when i was gathering my things from the passenger seat.

i screamed, which made him flinch and i was able to close the door and lock myself in. he banged my window and kept on trying to talk to me until he finally left.

i had a full blown panic attack and it took my 20 minutes to gather enough courage to get out and run home.

what’s scarier is that i am four months along w/ my bsf’s baby (USE PROTECTION KIDS, ONE SILLY MISTAKE AND YOU LOSE YOUR BSF AND FEEL LIKE A WHALE) and i don’t have anyone to call/reach so…… now… i can only think of reader experiencing this, but being able to call simon and him just comforting her afterwards and coming to save her <3 ugh i need a simon in my life hahahah

anyways—— sorry if this was weird and a strange word vomit too, feel free to ignore!! stay safe 🫶🏼

— momanon 🧞‍♀️

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. i'm so glad you're okay ugh that's terrifying!!! and i hope you have the happiest and healthiest pregnancy ever <333 mwah!

simon is fucking fuming, he can't think of the last time he was this riled up, ready to split this guy down the middle. your hands are shaking as you call him, struggling to hold your phone up to your ear, voice trembling as you speak. the line goes silent, all you hear is quick shuffling of what you can only assume is simon grabbing his keys to come to you.

“what does he look like? which direction is he walking to? what is he wearing?” firing off question after question, picturing all the ways he can send this man to his maker. of course you’re shaken, thoughts twisted from pure shock and adrenaline.

“don’t fucking move,” he orders you, and you can hear the loud acceleration of his car, driving way over the speed limit, running stop signs, tunnel visioned on getting to you.

he’s there faster than you can really process, his energy completely different. simon’s demeanor is dark, intimidating, enough to pull you out of your shock. his eyes are scanning the parking lot, searching for anyone who fits the description of the man.

“are you okay?” he asks, opening your door to pull you into his arms.

he holds you against his chest, taking deep breaths to coax you into calming down, his chest rising and falling in tempo with yours. his warm hand rests on your tummy, rubbing lightly as if he was soothing the baby.

“yeah that was just… scary,” you say, observing the cars around you once more. it's you and simon, and a woman about your age walking down the rows of cars. keys and purse in hand, she quickly passes you and gets in a blue car parked a few spaces down. though she didn't give you a second glance, simon watched her like a hawk, brown eyes scanning for the man lurking around.

"m'never letting you go anywhere alone again. especially while carryin' my kid with you," he huffs as the woman shuts her car door, quickly backing out and leaving. you're gathering your things, filling your bag with everything that had spilled in your fright, flinging things around while locking the door.

simon guides you out of your car by your hand, holding his other arm out to help stabilize you if you need it. grabbing the bag from you, he kisses your forehead and walks on your heels the entire way. from then on, he keeps his promise of not allowing you to go anywhere alone, always by your side to protect you.

#ghost x reader #.wbm #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #momanon🧞‍♀️

[sunshine-daisies-library]

ghost of you | steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve harrington comes to the realization that he needs you more than anything. if only he had come to that realization before he lost you forever. 

warnings: breakup, angst, drinking, depression, hopeful ending

wordcount: 2.05k

author's note: this fic is based off ghost of you by 5sos, and i hope you enjoy it! i started writing this like back in february and just decided to finish it up now, so there might be random gaps in there just lmk lol. if you'd like a part two, let me know!

Steve couldn’t sleep as well as he did before. Weeks of tossing and turning could no longer be blamed on a supposedly lumpy mattress. Dustin and Robin had told him time and time again that if he wanted a new mattress he could simply buy a new one. But the mattresses at the store were missing something. They didn’t come with the faint smell of your shampoo, or the wrinkles in the sheets from when you last slept over. 

Nearly two months had passed since you were here, yet everything remained the same in Steve’s bedroom. Your side of the bed was untouched. No matter how much Steve insisted he was getting over you, he still refused to sleep on your side of the bed. 

Steve rolled out of bed and dragged his feet down the stairs. The floors creaked with every heavy step until he made it down to the kitchen. Dust coated the countertop from lack of use aside from a plate of uneaten food here and there. Robin always made sure Steve had food - she’d stop by the local pizzeria at times and buy him a slice. But as soon as she’d leave, he’d push away the plate and go back to bed. 

Steve sat down on the barstool and sighed to himself. To his right sat a half empty cup of coffee. There was nothing special about the cup, it was just a blue cup with a faded “world’s okay-est dad” printed on it from the kids last holiday. But to Steve, it was your cup. Your lipstick was still stained on the rim, faint but still there. God, you didn’t live together officially back then, yet you had designated the left side of the bed and Steve’s yellow sweatshirt as yours, not that Steve minded, though. He loved you, adored you, even. 

If only he told you that when it mattered most. 

–

Steve wasn’t sure why he gave into Robin and Nancy’s idea. Perhaps it was because he was such a pushover for the kids, that nature transferred to them as well. Nonetheless, Steve was heavily regretting it. 

Now, all of Steve’s house was being deeply cleaned to a near perfect state. Nancy suggested throwing a party to get Steve “out of his funk,” as she put it. Anything to help improve his mood, but in reality Steve wanted to do anything but party. He couldn’t when you weren’t by his side, making sure he didn’t drink too much or that he had enough water and food in his stomach. Not when you weren’t pulling him to the middle of the room to dance like no one was watching, or whispering in his ear that you had enough socializing for one night. Those moments, he would look into your eyes and not break away when he called out to everyone that the party was over. Because you were everything to him and anything you said goes. That is until he broke things off with you. 

Why did he ever end things? 

Steve’s mind was racing as he absentmindedly swept the living room floor, dust accumulating at his feet. He didn’t hear Robin’s voice calling out to him until she was literally in front of him, shaking his shoulders. The boy snapped out of his thoughts, flinching at his friend’s rough shaking. 

“Jesus, Rob,” he shook his head. “What do you want?”

Robin rolled her eyes at his hostility and crossed her arms on her chest. “Nancy called,” she deadpanned. “She did the laundry and found a bunch of old crap. She wants to know if she can throw them out or donate them.”

Steve sighed, running his fingers through his uncommonly flat, greasy hair. He had forgotten to shower -once again- but he made a mental note to do so once he finished cleaning the house. “It’s probably my mom’s stuff. I’ll go down to check it out.” 

Handing the broom and dustpan to his friend, Steve casually walked downstairs to meet Nancy. And at that moment, he felt as though his entire world collapsed in front of him. In a way, his world really did. 

Nancy was crouched by the dryer, folding clothes and sorting them as she pleased. At her side was a lime green basket full of Steve’s old sweatshirts and jeans he once had haphazardly strewn across his bedroom floor. Sitting on top of the pile was a faded black Led Zeppelin shirt. The design was barely there anymore, and you could barely make out the words on it. But that didn’t matter to Steve. That was your shirt and not Nancy’s to touch. 

“Hey Steve,” she greeted without looking up from her work. “I set aside a pile of–” 

“What did you do?” Steve yelled, his voice raspy and broken from lack of use. He scrambled to the ground and reached for his band t-shirt. The worn material was thin and frail in his hands, almost to a point where he could pull a thread from the hem and the entire shirt would fall apart. 

Nancy shot up in alarm, not expecting his frantic reaction. “I-I did the laundry-”

“NO!” he cried out. He brought the article of clothing to his nose, desperately trying to smell you, find you, in the shirt but to no avail. All that he could smell was the stupid detergent from the convenience store. 

Tears streamed down his face and onto the cotton, quickly absorbing it and darkening the shirt color. “That was all I had of her,” he sobbed. “How could you, I-I” 

Robin ran down into the laundry room at the sound of Steve yelling. “What’s going on here?” she called, racing to meet her friends. “Nancy what happened?” 

The poor girl only shrugged her shoulders. “I was just finishing up the laundry and Steve flipped out. Something about a memento?” 

Robin stared down at the broken man before her. She could barely recognize him anymore. He was a wreck without you. “y/n’s shirt,” was all Robin could say. 

Closing his eyes, Steve could barely make out the image of you in the rain. You had yet another quarrel with your family and ended up at his doorstep. The fuzzy memory replayed in his head, how you were out of breath from running across town to him, looking for him. How he held you the entire night while you wore that shirt since your original clothes were wet and muddy. You clung to him as if he were your lifeline, and he held you with the same regard. They always said you two were too young to know what love felt or meant. No one understood or felt your hurt the way he did. That’s what made you perfect for each other.

And that’s what made you each other’s poison. 

– 

The debacle was resolved once Steve had fallen asleep in his room, locking himself away for the rest of the afternoon until cleaning had completed. Robin had consoled Nancy after she kicked herself for her mistake, but there was nothing that could be done afterwards. Something Steve had forgotten was that they had lost a friend as well. If he wasn’t your person, Nancy was, the girl glued to the hip wherever you went. And Robin was a little sister to you, the kids, too. You were an essential part of your little group. And now you’re just gone. 

Soon enough, the party started and the Harrington Manor was filled to the brim with drunk high school students or popular has-beens. No one quite knew how they managed to get in, but no one stopped them or cared for that matter. It was a long shot, but Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were grasping at straws to get their Steve back. If a party to reminisce old times brings back his cheerful spark, then they were willing to buy all the booze Hawkins could supply. 

Steve stood by himself in the corner of the main room of the house, nursing his third can of beer of the hour. He was silent, despite the many people coming up in their drunken stupor to greet the supposed host of the party. All he could manage was a fake smile and nod to bore them off. 

All of a sudden, he caught a glimpse of a familiar color of hair. He whipped his head around to follow the shadow, only for it to disappear into the crowd. Steve hurried to push through waves of people dancing to music Steve could only describe as pure trash, to find what he was looking for. After all, could it be? After two months, could a party bring you back to him? 

“y/n!” Steve shouted out, his voice drowned out in the blaring music. “y/n!” 

The shadow did not stop, but neither did Steve. Steve followed it to the backyard, shouting and stumbling as the alcohol in his system began to take over. 

“Steve!” a voice shouted behind him. Steve finally stopped to turn around and see Max staring back at him in disbelief. “What the hell are you yelling about?”

Steve’s hands trembled as he grabbed Max’s shoulders. “y/n,” he whispered. “I saw her, I swore I saw her here. She was right there, I-” 

“Steve,” Max sighed. “She’s not here. She never was.” The teen pointed out at the garden and pool, seeing no one in sight. Truth be told, absolutely no one was there. Not in the party, nor the backyard. Steve’s grief had taken him by storm. Max feared the worst for him.

–

The party finally ended in the early hours of the morning. Steve woke up on the sticky floor of his manor to the sound of his doorbell ringing. The night was a blur to him. He could barely recall when the party started, much as when it ended. There were flashes of blaring lights and music in Steve’s intoxicated mind. His friends had tried to stop him from drinking himself stupid. At one point, Eddie had to catch him off the kitchen counter when he thought he could crowd surf. To put it shortly, his friends had gotten extremely upset with him and left not long after. Not that Steve cared, though. The alcohol in his system and neverending dread prevented him from caring. 

“I can’t keep doing this anymore, Steve,” Robin had yelled over the loud music. Their friends nodded solemnly behind her. “We can’t keep letting you sulk and drink yourself to death. But we can’t help you when you can’t help yourself.”

“Like I care,” Steve slurred, stumbling over himself. Trashy beer dribbled down his chin, onto his expensive sweater. “I didn’t ask you guys to help me. I didn’t ask you to wash her shirt, or clean her side of the bed. I didn’t ask you to help me forget her.” 

“We aren’t telling you to forget her,” Dustin sighed for the millionth time that night. “We just want you to go back to normal.”

Steve plopped down against the wall, his head creating a thud noise against it. “How can I?” he began to cry. “I see her everywhere. It’s like her ghost is still here, dancing through the house.” His friends stared down at him feeling absolutely helpless. The young teens watched pitifully. Steve was their rock throughout it all. He was the strongest person they knew, but now he was broken in a million pieces and there was nothing they could do. 

And now, Steve clumsily stood up and kicked around empty beer cans as he approached the door. 

“Alright,” he grumbled, thinking it was one of his friends. He knew he had to apologize for the things he said that night, but he was hoping he’d get a chance to get over his hangover first. 

The doorbell rang one more time, causing Steve to wince at the pinging noise. “I heard you the first time, for fuck’s sake,” he yelled out. Unlocking the door, the door swung open to reveal not Nancy, or Dustin, or even Robin for that matter. 

“Stevie,” you whispered, teary eyed. You were wearing his yellow sweatshirt and hadn’t changed a bit. From your hair to your stature. You were still his girl.

“y/n,” Steve gasped out.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic recs #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery #joe keery x reader #5sos #ghost of you

[usiel21]

The Trauma of Enid Sinclair.

After her fight with the Hyde, Enid can't forget that night, seeing Wednesday covered in blood, the knife wound that was going to kill Wednesday haunts her dreams. Every night. Her dreams filled with an image of Wednesday dead, slumped over, knife sticking out of her gut.

It fills Enid with a ruthless determination.

Every morning at home she wakes up and does 100 push ups. No exceptions and then goes for a run.

The six full moons over the two month period should be ones of joy, but she spends each one, alone, away from the pack, hunting. Honing her instincts. Each one culminating in a kill so bloody and so savage that even her mother can't bring herself to criticize it, the deers and a singular bear have been mauled beyond the point of reason. She leaves the carcasses on the back porch with the other kills.

Her brothers begin to fear the savagery that their little sister is now capable of.

The return to Nevermore is a quiet one, her heart sings in elation at seeing Wednesday again. Seeing that she is alive but still recovering.

But Wednesday is far from stupid, she notices the changes in Enid immediately but doesn't comment on it, she finds herself silently counting every push-up and every sit-up. The colour of her roommate is still there albeit jaded.

Enid takes an almost obsessive interest in the investigation revolving around her stalker. Enid studies outcast bestiary encyclopaedias. Making notes and annotations to them. Specifically notes on where the arteries run, where vital organs are located and how far she would have to cut in order to reach them.

Enid wakes up in the night, pads over to Wednesdays bed and carefully presses her fingers to her pulse and hovering her hand by her mouth, feeling the slow outtake of air. She would heave a sigh of relief before going back to sleep.

Thing tells Wednesday everything, the notes, the checking to see if she's still alive. But still she make no comment on it.

The first boy that tries to ask Wednesday out doesn't even get a chance to speak to her, Enid is already there.

"She's not interested, back off" the last two words come out as a growl as her fangs descend and her claws elongate. Once the boy runs away terrified she sheepishly turns to look at Wednesday who only gives her a curt nod in return, it makes Enid preen all the same.

People soon learn that Wednesday is off limits. Well almost all of them that is.

Xavier fucking Thorpe.

It happens on the third botany lesson of the year, with the new teacher, Miss Reeves. Enid watches with intensity and a boiling, bubbling anger as Xavier attempts to flirt with Wednesday, who shows no interest in return.

Yoko notices it first, the extended claws, the yellow eyes but has no time to stop it as Xavier makes a play to hold Wednesdays hand. The other girl flinches away, disgust evident on her face. And Enid sees red, every emotion, every bit of fear, every piece of anger coming to the forefront.

Xavier has no time to react as Enid bolts over her table and tackles Xavier to the floor. The boy screams 'What the fuck?!" as he hits the floor.

the half-transformed wolf snarls and growls above him.

"DO NOT TOUCH HER!" She screams down at him. "Miss Sinclair!" Miss Reeves roars but gulps and takes a step back as the wolf's eyes round on her, a genuine murderous intent gleam there. But Enid backs off but doesn't back down instead she turns until Wednesday is behind her, keeping the her precious raven safe, all eyes are trained on her, all of them now threats to Wednesday.

And all that runs through her head is a singular, terrifying thought.

Protect Mate

Until she feel's Wednesday's hand tentatively come up to brush her fingers.

"Enid, I'm okay, it is okay." Wednesday's soft whisper comes from behind. She whines and whimpers as Wednesday's touch is like a spark upon her skin, so gentle and so soft. Yet Enid doesn't back down, it just gives her an even more greater reason to protect and defend.

Wednesday's whisper is barely audible but regardless everyone hears it.

"My sweet and savage wolf" Wednesday whispers, taking her hand. "Stop...please." the last word is almost pleading. And it shakes Enid out of her kill rage, the claws retract and her face returns to that once sweet girl that everyone would describe as being like sunshine. She ducks her head away, ashamed and mortified. But their eyes meet conveying everything she can't say.

Wednesday's sharp eyes turn to Miss Reeves.

"Inform the rest of the teachers that Enid and I are returning to our room. I will handle this in what way I deem fit." She pauses "If the new principal does not approve then inform him that anyone that messes with Enid will incur the wrath of the Addams clan."

Wednesday pauses to look down at Xavier.

"Touch me again and I won't stop her next time."

Xavier incredulously looks at the girls joined hands and at Enid who is now clinging to Wednesday's arm like a koala bear. But wisely says nothing.

"Come, mi sol" Wednesday gently says, leading Enid from the room.

Miss Reeves rounded on Xavier "You foolish, idiotic boy!" Xavier nearly choked on the words that died in his throat in protest "You know better than to touch a werewolf's mate!"

The walk back to the dorm is a quick and silent one. Until Wednesday locks the door behind them as Enid retreats further into the room.

"You must hate me so much right now, Wends" Enid mutters tearfully.

Wednesday steps forward.

"Why would you think such a ridiculous notion Enid?" Wednesday questions.

"Because of what just happened, Because I'm a shitty friend... because i'm a failure." Enid says, all but breaking down. The tears come thick and fast, every bit of despair, every fear finally letting itself explode.

"If i could have wolfed out you wouldn't have been stabbed!" Enid wails. Wednesday can't say nothing other than watch Enid rip herself to pieces with guilt that isn't just.

"If I had beaten the Hyde faster, if I had been better!" Enid laments "If I had known Thornhill had taken you if I wasn't too busy sucking face with Ajax! I could have stopped it!"

Wednesday moved towards Enid until she was right in front of her, their eyes met.

"If you died I would have died with you." Enid confesses softly.

And Wednesday had never been told something so terrifying. Enid turned away and continued to sob. Wednesday moved until she was right in Enid's personal space.

"But i didn't die, I'm right here Enid. Look at me." Wednesday said. Shimmering Blue eyes met hers and Wednesday held out her hands. Enid's shook as she placed them into the ravens.

"Do you think i care for you so little that if you died against the Hyde i wouldn't have met him in battle knowing that i would come to you even in death?"

Enid's lip quivered at Wednesday's words. Wednesday stepped closer.

"Do you think i could ever hate you? Even when we first met I found I simply couldn't as much as i wanted to."

Enid whimpered.

"Do you think I love you so little..." Enid's eyes widen at the proclamation. "...that even death would have been able to keep me from you?"

"Wends..." Enid can't help but utter, hearing the most loving and romantic thing anyone has ever said to her.

"Your not the only one that lost a part of themselves that night Enid, I lost a part of myself to you and I never want it back"

"That is literally the most loving thing anyone has ever said to me..." Enid whined, bringing their clasped hands to her chest.

"This is not the way I wished to tell you..." Wednesday said, casting her eyes to the floor.

"It was perfect Wends." Enid said stepping closer as Wednesday looks at her again "I..." Enid begins, her words hitching in her throat. "...I..." Wednesday steps closer, they're both so close now that they can feel each other's breath.

"Yes Enid?" Wednesday prompts softly. Enid composes herself enough for the briefest of moments. "...I... I love you!"

And Wednesday is the one that takes the final leap of faith by pushing forwards, their hands clasped tightly together between them at chest level, capturing Enid's lips blissfully with her own, the spiderweb window directly behind them.

Enid cries during their first kiss. The wolf, exhausted half drags Wednesday to her bed, before collapsing upon it with Wednesday in tow, their bodies entwined. Her final thoughts as she drifts off a comfort as she tucks her face into the seers neck.

Mate safe.

Mate in nest.

Mate warm.

Mate happy.

Mate alive.

#wenclair #they're so gay #these are just meant to be small drabbles that somehow end up being 1500 words long Lmao

[suddencolds]

Atypical Occurrence [1/?]

Happy birthday to my dear friend, @caughtintherain!! I wanted to give you some Vincent suffering to chew on for the occasion, so please take this fic (or, first part of a fic) as a gift <3

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I’ve written for these two! chronologically, this fic takes place a month or so after the last installment leaves off :)

Summary: Vincent shows up late to a meeting. It just goes downhill from there. (ft. fake dating, the flu, a house visit)

—

Vincent is late.

Yves tries not to stare at the empty seat across from him. The meeting—their first meeting of the day—started five minutes ago. If there’s anything Yves knows, it’s that Vincent always comes in early. 

In stumbles Cara, handling a morning coffee with probably more espresso shots than anyone should have at 8am. Then Laurent, briefcase in one hand, paging through a folder of files in his other. Then Angelie, Isaac, Garrett, Ray, Sienna. Then they get started, and Yves turns his attention towards the graphs projected onscreen at the front of the room, and tries very hard not to think about Vincent.

It’s five minutes later that the door swings open, near-silent.

Sienna—who’s presenting—stops, for a moment, to look back at Vincent from where he’s standing in the doorway, which means that of course, everyone looks.

Cara turns around in her seat, raising an eyebrow. Angelie frowns at him. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Vincent says, quietly. “It won’t happen again.”

Isaac shrugs. Angelie looks a little concerned, but she turns back to her work, anyways. Sienna resumes her presentation. All in all, it’s nothing—or it should be nothing. Probably traffic, on the way here; a particularly unlucky commute. An unlikely occurrence, but—to anyone else—not anything worth dwelling over.

It might be a sufficient explanation, if Yves didn’t know better.

Vincent takes care to close the door quietly behind him, then heads over to the only open seat, across from Yves. He unzips his briefcase, quietly, unobtrusively, and takes out his laptop. Yves tries to focus on what Sienna is saying—she’s giving a review of a client’s current investment strategies; he’d reviewed her work on this just a couple days ago.

Vincent asks good questions throughout—he always has a good sense of what areas still lack clarity, Yves has found. Today is no exception. He takes part in the meeting with such calculated precision that Yves almost misses it.

Almost misses: the slight stiffness to his shoulders, as if it’s taking more than the usual amount of effort to keep himself upright. The way in which he clears his throat before speaking, like it might actually hurt. The way he rests his head on one hand, halfway into the meeting—as if even now, barely forty minutes into the workday, he’s already exhausted.

It’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, subtle enough that Yves wonders if he’s just reading too much into it—if, perhaps, Vincent is fine, after all.

—

He doesn’t see Vincent again until lunch.

Or, more accurately, he doesn’t see Vincent again until he’s headed down for lunch with Cara and Laurent. Vincent is already on his way out of the cafeteria, a takeout container in hand.

“You’re not going to eat here?” Yves asks.

Vincent doesn’t look at him. “I have some work to get done at my desk,” he says. He clears his throat again, like it’s irritating him.

“Okay,” Yves says. Vincent turns to leave, and Yves thinks of a hundred ways in which he could possibly prolong this conversation, and then decides against it. Vincent is already so busy.

“You look tired,” he settles on, instead.

He expects Vincent to dismiss this, to reassure him that it isn’t true. But Vincent looks up at him at last, blinking, as if he’s surprised that Yves noticed at all. His eyes are a little dark-rimmed underneath his glasses.

He doesn’t deny it, which is as much of a confirmation as Yves needs.

“The sooner I can get this work done, the sooner I can go home,” he says. Yves supposes he can’t argue with that.

“I guess I’ll see you around, then,” Yves says, even though he wants to say more, even though he feels like there’s more that he should be saying. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent nods, at this, and resumes walking.

—

Yves is probably overthinking it. There isn’t anything concrete, really, to justify his concern.

Vincent’s lateness to the meeting could just as easily be the consequence of an alarm he’d forgotten to set, his exhaustion just as easily a side effect—of recent late nights in the office, of arbitrary changes to the projects he’s on, of last-minute demands from clients.

The next time he sees Vincent is at the end of the work day. Yves always takes the elevators on the north end of the building—they’re ones that lead directly out into the parking garage. When he gets out to the hallway, Vincent is already standing there, waiting for the elevator.

Yves watches Vincent stiffen, slightly. Watches him raise one hand up to his face to shudder into it with a harsh, “HHihH’iKKTSh-hUH!”

A thin tremor runs through the line of his shoulders, as if he’s too cold, even though the office air conditioning is no colder than usual. His hand, cupped to his face, remains there for a moment more before he lowers it.

He sniffles, then, rummaging through his pocket for—something. When he doesn’t find it, he just frowns a little, sniffling again. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

“Yves,” Vincent says, his shoulders stiffening a little. He clears his throat, turning around so that he can address Yves properly.

It’s only a few seconds later that he’s turning sharply away, tenting both hands over his nose and mouth for—

“Hh-! hHiH—HIHh’DZSSschh-uhh! snf-!”

“Bless you again.” 

Vincent sighs. “Don’t bother.” He really looks exhausted, Yves realizes. During their brief interaction at lunch, he’d already sensed as much, but the harsh white glare of the bright corporate lighting only makes it more evident.

Vincent looks a little paler than usual, if only slightly, and there’s a slight flush that spreads itself over his cheekbones. He looks—well, nearly as put together as always, distilled only by the slight crookedness of his tie, as if it’s been on too tight; the near-invisible sheen of sweat over his forehead. The slight redness to the bridge of his nose, the slight shiver to his hand as he reaches up to adjust his collar.

Yves frowns, taking this all in. “You look kind of…”

“Terrible?” Vincent finishes for him.

Yves winces. “...Well, terrible is a strong word. I was going to say, you look like you could use some sleep.”

“I’m… feeling a little off,” Vincent says, staring straight ahead, as if it’s not an admission at all. But Yves suspects, from the way he avoids eye contact, that perhaps it was something he was intending on keeping private. “You should keep your distance.”

The elevator dings. The sliding doors part, and he steps inside. 

“First floor?” Yves asks, hesitating next to the panel of buttons.

“Yes,” Vincent says. Then, quietly: “Thanks.”

“You know, now that busy season is over, the world is not going to end if you take a sick day,” Yves tells him. “Even if you do like, twice the amount of work as everyone else on the team, if you needed to call out, I’m sure something could be arranged.”

Vincent smiles at him, a little wryly. “I must look pretty bad if you’re saying this to me.”

“Yes, I was lying,” Yves says. “Clearly, you look terrible.”

It isn’t true at all—even here, even like this, Vincent doesn’t look terrible, not even in the least. But Vincent still smiles, at this—a tired smile.

The elevator doors slide open.

“Text me if you need anything,” Yves says, impulsively. “Seriously. Tissues, soup, medicine—whatever. It’s not far of a drive.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Vincent says. “I will see you tomorrow.” And then he steps out of the elevator, and Yves is left with an inexplicable sinking feeling in his stomach. As far as he knows, it has no place there. Obviously, Vincent can take care of himself. Obviously, Vincent can handle a cold. Yves has nothing to be concerned about.

—

The next day is rainy—a constant, torrential downpour, which makes his commute to work take almost twice as long as it usually does. It wouldn’t be spring here, Yves supposes, without dreary weather like this.

Back in uni, when he rowed crew, they’d practice out for hours out in the rain. Now that he spends the majority of his day inside, he supposes he can’t complain. The shelter of the office building is a reprieve.

Vincent doesn’t show up.

“I think he’s out sick,” Cara says, when Yves asks. “You know, it’s funny. I don’t think I’ve actually seen him take a sick day before.”

“For how hard he works, he definitely deserves one,” Garrett says.

“He seemed fine yesterday, when I saw him,” Cara says, with a shrug. “Probably came on quickly.” Yves nods.

But that isn’t quite right, is it? Vincent hadn’t seemed fine, had he? Yves thinks back to the things he’d noticed—Vincent, uncharacteristically exhausted during the meeting, though it was clear he’d been just as engaged as usual. Vincent, shivering in the elevator, telling Yves to keep his distance. How poorly had he been feeling already, yesterday? How poorly does he have to be feeling today to have called off of work for it?

He finds some time just before lunch to text.

Y: how are you holding up? Y: yesterday’s offer stands if you need me to bring you anything!

He doesn’t get a response from Vincent, which is a little concerning. He checks his phone halfway through lunch, and then twice more, in between his afternoon meetings, just in case he’s missed a notification.

“Are you expecting a text from someone?” Cara says, looking a little curious.

“Just a friend,” Yves says, which is and isn’t true.

To make a point—to Cara, and possibly to himself—he shuts his phone off. He very pointedly does not look at it again for the remainder of the hour.

It’s not until mid-afternoon that he finally gets a response.

V: Sorry to get back to you so late.

Yves sits upright, fumbling with his phone to get it unlocked. The text bubble pops up again, somewhat intermittently, to show that Vincent is typing.

V: If it’s not too much trouble, there’s a blue folder on my desk labeled 2-A.

Yves blinks at this, a little disbelieving.

Y: you’re asking me to bring you work files? Y: arent you supposed to be resting 🤨 Y: paid sick leave, remember? as in, leave your work at work??

V: I meant to pack them yesterday.

Y: that’s like a genie grants you 3 wishes and you ask for an extra day of assignments Y: terrible waste of a wish if you ask me

V: As a genie, you’re quite judgmental

Y: ok ok Y: as your loyal lamp dweller i’ll be over around 8pm with folder 2-A  Y: you need anything else? 

V: Nothing else V: You can just leave them outside my door 

A beat. Then Vincent sends:

V: Sorry to trouble you

Yves thinks of twenty responses he wants to send to that text. Then, thinking better of himself, he shuts his phone off and gets back to work.

—

It’s a little past seven when he finally checks out of the office.

Outside, the rain hasn’t even begun to let up—it falls, straight and heavy, in large, globular droplets. The streets gleam with water. Yves leaves his umbrella in the trunk, tunes out everything but the static of the rainfall, and drives.

Yves has only ever been to Vincent’s apartment once—to pick him up for the New Years’ party Margot hosted—and even then, Vincent had met him at the door. But he recognizes the unit, nonetheless.

For a moment, he considers leaving the folder of files outside of Vincent’s door and taking his leave.

But it’s windy, and he’s afraid the papers might fly away, torn up by the biting wind, and get lost face down in a puddle somewhere, which would defeat the purpose of him coming here in the first place, and would probably also breach some employee confidentiality policy. So instead, he knocks.

It’s silent for a moment. Rain beats down on the slanted rooftops, a constant thrum. 

Yves is about to reach out to knock again, when the door swings open.

There stands Vincent, in a pale blue hoodie and loose-fitting pajama pants, with neat rectangular cuffs.

He looks tired. It’s the first thing Yves registers—the unusual fatigue to his expression, which he can’t quite seem to blink away; the flush high on his cheekbones. The way he holds himself, his shoulders stiff, carefully, defensively; as if despite his exhaustion, there’s a part of him which wishes to appear presentable still.

It’s only a moment later that he’s taking a halting step back, ducking into a hoodie sleeve. Yves catches the shiver of his expression, his eyebrows pulling together, before it crumples, and his head jerks forward with a harsh—

“hHihh’GKkTT—! Hh-!! iHH-’DZZSCHh-uuUh!”

The second sneeze sounds louder and harsher than usual, even muffled into the fabric of his sleeve. It betrays his congestion all at once. 

“Bless you,” Yves says.

Vincent emerges, sniffling a little. When he speaks, he sounds a little hoarser than he did yesterday. “I thought I said you - snf-! - could leave them on the front step.”

“You did,” Yves says, glancing down at the folder in his hands. “But it’s windy, and it’s raining. I figured you’d prefer to have your files intact. How are you feeling?”

Vincent blinks at him. He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, Yves realizes, one hand gripped tightly around the frame, his knuckles white from the pressure, as if it would take him too much effort to stay upright otherwise. 

“Alright,” he answers. “Thanks for making the trip here. I… it must’ve taken longer, in the rain.” He squeezes his eyes shut, as if his head hurts, as if the light coming from outside is exacerbating his headache. “If you ever need me to pick something up for you, I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Yves says. Despite himself, he reaches up to press his hand against Vincent’s forehead.

The heat under his fingertips is alarming, to say the least. Yves blinks, lowering his hand, and tries to keep the worry out of his voice. “Have you taken your temperature?”

Vincent shakes his head. “I don’t think I have a thermometer.”

“Have you eaten, then?”

Vincent averts his glance, looking sheepish. “I… was planning to stop for groceries, yesterday,” he says. Planning to.

Yves thinks back to the elevator ride yesterday. Vincent had probably already been feeling very unwell, then. And yet, he’d talked with Yves as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I’m feeling a little off, he’d said, as if anything about his current affliction could possibly be characterized as “little.” I will see you tomorrow—as if he had really, genuinely been intending on showing up at work. 

“So I take it that there’s nothing in the fridge, either,” Yves says.

“If it’s any consolation, you’ll be pleased to know that I slept,” Vincent says, in lieu of answering.

Then he shivers—the sort of concerning, full-body shiver that is a little concerning, coming from someone who is usually unaffected by the cold—and Yves is immediately reminded that the door they’re speaking through is open.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“You probably shouldn’t,” Vincent says, before his expression scrunches up, and he’s ducking away with a— “hh—! hHih-II—TSSCHHh-UH! snf-!”, smothered hurriedly into the palm of his hand. He sniffles, emerging with a slight wince. “This came on pretty quickly. It might be the flu.”

“It’s fine,” Yves says. “I got my flu shot in the winter. And anyways, I’ll be careful.”

Vincent is quiet, for a moment. Then, frowning, he says, “I’d feel terrible if you caught this.”

That’s the least of Yves’s worries—he doubts he’s going to catch this. Even if he does, it will just mean a few days off of work. Not the end of the world, by any means. Nothing to warrant the expression on Vincent’s face—Vincent looks upset, as if he’ll really can’t think of anything worse than Yves catching this. Like even the thought of it is worth being upset over.

Yves shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, seriously.” He pushes past Vincent to step inside and shuts the door behind him. “Here, I’ll set these down on your desk. Where is it?”

“Down the hallway, to the left,” Vincent says.

Yves takes the folder, leaves his shoes at the door, and heads inside. 

Vincent’s bedroom is small and organized—it’s the kind of bedroom that’s tastefully minimal, in the sort of unified manner that implies that everything in it has been carefully arranged. There’s a small white desk in the corner, a stack of files arranged neatly next to Vincent’s laptop, its lid halfway to shut. There’s a bookshelf, leaned up against the wall far; the bottom shelf looks to be filled with textbooks; the top shelf lined with books, both in Korean and in English. The walls are painted slate gray, the carpets lining the floorboards picked out to match, and there are pale blue curtains hanging from the windows, pulled tightly shut.

There are signs here, too, of his illness, but they are subtle. A tissue box, nestled between his pillow and the headboard, half empty. A waste bin at the foot of the bed, conveniently in reach. A small bottle of aspirin on the bedside counter; an empty packet of cough drops sitting at the edge of his nightstand.

Yves sets the folder at the end of Vincent’s desk, next to the rest of his files, and turns to face him.

“You’re not going to work on these until you’re feeling better, right?” he asks.

“Only if I can’t sleep,” Vincent says, which Yves supposes is a satisfactory answer. Then he twists away, his eyebrows furrowing, lifting a loosely clenched fist to his face to cough, and cough. 

The cough is harsh and grating—his entire frame shudders with the force of it, his breaths shallow and raspy. He really sounds awful. This must have come on quickly, Yves thinks.

If it’s upsetting, seeing Vincent like this, it’s even worse to be standing here, in his room, doing nothing. So—if only to make himself useful, if only to convince himself that there’s something he can do—Yves ducks out into the kitchen.

The pantry is meticulously organized—glasses lined up in neat rows; stacks of bowls sorted by size. He fills a glass with water, shuts the cabinets, and takes it back to the bedroom. 

By the time he gets back, Vincent is sitting at the edge of his bed. His glasses are folded neatly, left at the very edge of the countertop.

“Here,” Yves says, crossing the room, holding out the glass for him to take. 

“Thanks,” Vincent says, taking it gingerly from him. He takes a small, tentative sip, and then another—his hands are a little shaky, Yves notices. “You - snf-! - should really go.”

“I’m not entirely convinced you’ll be fine on your own,” Yves says.

“Of course I will be,” Vincent says, with all of his usual certainty. He lays down, pulling the covers over his body. “I have been fine on my own for years.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, Yves supposes. But he doesn’t feel reassured in the least.

“Thank you again for bringing me the files,” Vincent says, at last, shutting his eyes.

“You could’ve asked me to get you groceries,” Yves says. “There’s a supermarket not far from here, right? And you’re out of cough drops.” He takes a few steps over, towards the desk in the corner of the room. “These—” He examines the bottle of ibuprofen on the table. “—are expired.”

“Just because you’ve extended this kindness to me,” Vincent tells him, “doesn’t mean I should take advantage of it.”

Yves blinks, a little taken aback. “It’s only groceries. I wouldn’t have minded, really.”

“See,” Vincent says, with a note of—something in his voice. It sounds a bit like resignation. “That’s just the kind of person you are.”

Yves doesn’t know what to say, to that. 

Before he can think up a fitting response, Vincent’s breathing evens out. Yves lets himself listen to the shallow, steady cadence of it. Lets himself acknowledge the heavy, painful feeling in his chest for just a moment. Then he shuts the lights off and heads back out into the hallway.

#snz fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i wanted to end somewhere more conclusive but i was falling asleep at my keyboard trying to end this so #please take this for now 🙏 #my fic #it is very late rn so i am scheduling this for the middle of my work day tomorrow... now i need to run to sleep T.T #i will finish off the latter half of the house visit in the not too distant future! #yvverse #ps caughtintherain if you are reading this ily and i am so grateful to you for letting me consult you abt these two 😭😭 and i hope it's #okay for me to post this as a gift jafkhjfslk ANYWAYS pls read this at your leisure and happy birthday again!!!

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

I’m not gonna lie… if there was a part to leave as my last one for a month… I’d choose this one. I hope y'all like it as much as I do! ❤️

Part 1 | . . . | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42

El watches the proceedings with wide eyes, and grips onto Steve’s hand the moment he’s close enough. “It’s time,” she says. She might be asking; she’s not quite sure.

Steve’s face falls. “Almost,” he agrees, pulling her into a hug. She goes gladly, tucking her face into his neck. “I think we’ve got one more day,” he murmurs, not letting go. “Are you up for some training today?”

She pulls back to look him in the eye. It’s the easiest way for her to make sure he’s telling the truth. “I will be stronger?”

“That’s the goal,” Steve nods. “I don’t know if it’ll work.”

El thinks about it, then nods. “I want to try.”

“M’kay. Have you eaten recently? Alli made some pretty great mac and cheese we can heat up, if you want it.”

El had mac and cheese before. It was cold, because she had to wait for Mike to bring it to her in the basement. The noodles were rubbery and the cheese didn’t taste good. She scrunches her nose, but Steve doesn’t look like he’s lying, so she relaxes her face and nods. “That would be good,” she tells him.

He smiles and ruffles the little bit of hair she has. “‘Course, El. I’m gonna heat this up, and while you eat, we can talk, okay?”

“Okay,” she answers, and watches as he puts some of the pasta into a bowl and sticks it into the microwave.

As it’s heating up, Steve turns to Eddie and Wayne. “Eddie, think you can bring him up to speed? We’ll be in the dining room if you have any questions.”

Eddie nods and waves his uncle out of the kitchen in the direction of the living room, already speaking faster than Eleven had thought possible.

When they’re both sitting at the table, her with a steaming bowl in front of her and a fork in hand, Steve starts talking. “First things first,” he says softly. “Eleven. That’s not your name; it was a number assigned to you.”

She perks up. “You know my name?”

Steve nods. “Jane.”

“Jane,” she tries out, then nods decisively. She likes it.

“So eleven. The number. That means there were at least ten others. We know Vecna, Henry Creel, is One. That leaves nine more.”

El shakes her head. She knows this. “They all died.”

Steve gives her a sad sort of smile. “Not all of them. You meet your sister, Kali. She’s number eight. She can make you believe you’re seeing something that isn’t there. She’s very powerful, and she taught you how she got that powerful.” He puts his fingertips together with his palms apart. It looks like a spider on a mirror, and El gets sidetracked for a moment by the image.

“What do you know about fairy tales?” Steve asks, and El blinks and chews the bite she’d just put in her mouth.

“They’re fake,” she eventually says. “Stories about things that never happened, that can’t ever happen.”

Steve smiles at her. “Yes, but there’s still lessons to be learned from them. Can I tell you my favorite version of a fairy tale called Sleeping Beauty?”

El perks up again. “I know that one! A witch curses the princess so she falls asleep forever until her true love finds her and kisses her.”

Steve nods. “That’s the most popular version,” he agrees, lips tilted up. “But that’s not my favorite.”

She tilts her head. “What is your favorite?”

He grins at her. “Once upon a time there was a princess. She was cursed, you got that right, but it wasn’t by a witch. It was by a fairy who hadn’t been invited to her first birthday, which is a very big deal when you’re a princess. So the fairy curses her to fall asleep—her and the rest of the kingdom—when she pricks her finger on a spinning wheel when she turns eighteen. Everything goes exactly as the fairy had said, and eighteen years after she casts the spell, the princess—Aurora—falls asleep, only to be woken by true love’s kiss. The fairy came to check on Aurora and found her sleeping, just as she’d planned. But something unexpected happened: the fairy felt compassion for her. She took to sitting by her bedside every day, waiting for the princess’s true love to appear. Finally one day she goes to leave and presses a kiss to Aurora’s forehead. Can you guess when happened?”

El frowns. “She woke up?”

“Exactly,” Steve nods. “She woke up because the fairy loved her. True love can come from anywhere. It doesn’t have to be romantic.” He takes one of El’s hands in his own and looks into her eyes. “Kali taught you to use your anger to get stronger. I want you to try to use love. It’s the one thing Henry Creel doesn’t have.”

El thinks about it. “I don’t have to kiss anyone.”

Steve chuckles. “No, you don’t have to kiss anyone. But you know me, right? You know Mike and Will and Dustin and Lucas. And you know Robin, Eddie, Nancy, and Jonathan, now, right?”

“Right,” El nods.

“And do you love any of us? Do you want us to stay safe?”

El thinks carefully about the question, then nods. “Like the fairy.”

Steve’s eyes crinkle as he grins at El. “Just like the fairy.”

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #wayne munson #el hopper #el and Steve #they are my absolute favorite I swear #fix it fic #time travel fic #time travel fix it #time travel fix it fic #starambles

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝟏

➯ Y/N ACCIDENTALLY SUMMONS A DEMON AND HE WON’T LEAVE HER ALONE. ✰ demon!harry no warnings. 𝑤𝑐 7k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Y/N has never been so mortified in her entire life. She thinks this might be it for her—that life should just end here—because there is no way in hell she is ever going to step foot outside ever again.

How can she after what has happened?

Worst of all (and there are many factors), the disastrous tragedy occurred at her workplace meaning she has no other choice but to find a new job and the thought only causes more hysteria, a fresh wave of tears soaking her skin as she sits hunched in the middle of her bed—hands over her face like they will hide her from the world.

And she had been so excited to wake up this morning; whispers about the new boss floating around the office all week had Y/N utterly intrigued about what she would be like (she’s struggled not to create an idyllic picture of what life at work could become; she often tends to get too deep inside her head and create false realities, and she knows she needs to find another coping mechanism but Y/N can’t help that her imagination is larger than her self-control!). So, when her alarm had gone off, she was up immediately, not even stopping to savour the warmth of her sheets, and getting ready.

And maybe now, looking back after the day she’s had, she may have recognised the signs of misfortune ahead of her, but in the moment nothing could have distracted her.

First it's her period starting, which is okay because she caught it without making a mess and she’d top up on painkillers before she left home. The second thing is entirely her fault because she always gets especially clumsy and jittery when she is excited or nervous, so of course she is going to trip and twist her ankle—but that is also not so bad because she is already taking painkillers for her period so there is no extra harm done. Y/N feels entirely unaffected by both of these things, still buzzing to get out of the door, until she goes to make breakfast and realises she has run out of her favourite cereal, which she’ll admit does put a bit of a frown on her face. (But a frown is nothing during that time of the month so she reacts considerably much better than she usually would!) So she’d had to have toast instead which was fine but undoubtedly interrupts the routine she has looked forward to since the night prior, and as it turns out it only spirals further.

The drive to work is standard, and Y/N has already forgotten about her minor inconveniences, refusing to wince as she gets out of the car—too stubborn to acknowledge that the painkillers have not effectively worked at numbing the pain in her ankle. She’d proudly forgone coffee, knowing she was probably a bit too wired already—and she absolutely could not entertain the possibility of accidentally spilling it on anyone, let alone her new boss—so as she enters the office as casually as possible on her throbbing ankle, she is relieved to see her favourite co-worker, Imogen, waiting for her by the elevator holding two cups of what Y/N hopes isn’t what she’d thought to avoid. Imogen sports a grin as soon as she spots her, enthusing Y/N to hurry up with a nod of her head.

“I got you a tea. Thought you might be a bit too on-edge for loads of caffeine,” She says, as soon as Y/N is near.

Smiling, Y/N hums, cradling the mug in her hands, “Thank you, Gen.” She sips, feeling the hot liquid trail down her throat, her brain given a moment to breathe.

Y/N thinks that was the last her brain (or lungs) has breathed in the last 5 hours. She’s a blubbering mess and her hormones have really kicked in now, along with the swelling of her ankle which makes moving so hard, and she’s feeling so sorry for herself she doesn’t know what to do. Everything is on replay in her head, and it gets worse every time, new consequences shouting at Y/N from the depths of her mind.

What if Imogen doesn’t want to be seen with you anymore because you’ve ruined her reputation by association? What if someone filmed the whole thing and it goes viral on Twitter? Then you won’t be employed ever again. What if your family refuses to talk to you, what if your boss sues you, what if you get kicked out of your apartment, what if—

“What’s happened to you then?”

Y/N shrieks, head whipping up so fast she’s lucky she doesn’t add a pulled neck muscle to her list of injuries. Across from her bed, sitting comfortably in her armchair that she likes to read in, is a man. She thinks she’s hallucinating for a moment because there is little explanation as to how or why there would be a man in her bedroom. And she’s still crying, but now she’s terrified, so words don’t exactly come easily.

“Who—What—How did you get in here?” She tries to shuffle back against her headboard, too shocked to be careful with her ankle and her arms buckle as the pain shoots up her foot, causing her eyes to well up again and she feels so useless at this moment. “Please get out of my house.” The words come out wet, fresh tears rolling down her face, the severity of the situation sinking in. She, hopelessly slowly, moves as far away from him as possible, keeping her legs deadly still until her back reaches the pillows and she pulls one onto her lap—maybe she can throw it at him.

The man leans forward, expression completely blank. He looks bored, if anything, as if she has inconvenienced him. “You’re the one that brought me here, sad thing. Why are you in such a tizzy, hm?” He looks her over, taking in the mess of hair on her head, her red, tearful eyes, wet cheeks and swollen mouth, and simply leans back in the chair again.

Y/N can’t even begin to process what he’s saying and knows she needs to get out, that this man can only be here for bad, and that she’ll have to pretend there is nothing wrong with her ankle. So she makes the effort—at least she’ll know she tried to help herself—as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, pillow in hand, ignoring the screaming pain. She’ll have to hop.

The wall welcomes her hand as she pitifully makes her way to the door, taking a glance behind her, checking to see the man sitting in her chair. But he’s gone and she gasps as she looks forward and he’s stood in the doorway, looking down at her. Y/N goes to throw the pillow at him (knowing it's embarrassingly futile and if she were watching herself in a movie would rightly feel she deserved to be killed; the humour of the situation fails to comfort her) but it doesn’t even leave her hands before he plucks it away and drops it on the floor.

“Why don’t you stop panicking and tell me why you summoned me?” He steps forward forcing Y/N to retreat clumsily, tripping backwards and landing against the side of her bed, face crumpling in pain as her ankle gets folded underneath her bum. He stares down, face hinting at an amused smirk as if her distress is entertaining. Maybe she really is hallucinating. This can’t be real, people can’t be summoned.

“I’m almost inclined to believe you actually don’t know what’s going on. I’ve truly never seen anyone so scared of a demon they’ve willingly invited in,” the man’s voice is slow and deep, nearly enough so to make sense but Y/N has a headache now along with everything else and she really just wants to go to sleep.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Y/N whimpers, pulling herself onto her bed. Her head is spinning but she feels mellow suddenly, eyelids drooping, inhaling a delicate scent of vanilla and lime. In the chaos, she realises she’s stopped crying, and even the attempt to recall the day’s events are blocked as if something is stopping her from thinking.

“I guess we’ll try again once you’ve slept,” she hears the man sigh and sit down, presumably in the chair she first saw him in. But her eyes are closed now and she feels herself drifting away into a blissful slumber.

When Y/N wakes up she thinks she’s just had the weirdest dream in the history of dreams. The sun is streaming through her open curtains, a gentle breeze from the window, and she can’t remember how long she’s been asleep but she must’ve gone through the whole night. She’s so disorientated that she nearly forgets that the work incident wasn’t contained in her sleep fantasy, but before she can start the loop inside her head again, her organs chirp up and Y/N hobbles to the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet, she’s able to assess the damage to her ankle; the skin is bruising, a purple and green hue creeping over the swelling. Y/N is pretty sure it’s Friday, but she’s also pretty sure that she’s assumed to be sick after rushing out of the office building and into her car quicker than she has ever moved in her life. Maybe she’ll message Imogen and ask her to cover for her.

The only thing Y/N wants is to crawl back into bed and hug her pillow and maybe cry some more, so she finishes up in the bathroom, finds some painkillers in the cabinet and limps back to the comfort of her sheets. She climbs under and sits against her pillows, taking the pills with the two-day-old glass of water on her bedside table.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” The man from her dream appears in the doorway, sipping from her favourite mug.

Y/N jolts, spilling water all over her covers, and memories she assumed were a part of her dream materialise in front of her, along with a familiar vanilla and lime scent. And she’s too tired and fed up to move, a tiny part of her feeling as though he would’ve tried something by now if he was going to at all.

But she’s frowning at him. “That’s my favourite mug! I’d rather you didn’t use that.” Her voice is congested and croaky, but her annoyed tone isn’t missed—priorities clearly well in check.

The man tilts his head slightly as if caught off guard. “But I’m not finished.” He gestures with his hand that’s holding the mug. He seems mellow and suddenly so does Y/N and it would be so easy for her to lie down and close her eyes.

“How did you get into my house? Did you chloroform me last night?” She asks, head suddenly fuzzy. “Are you doing it right now?” Words coming out in mumbles.

“You summoned me. No. And no.” He doesn’t move from the doorway, only adjusting to lean against the frame.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t summon you, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why do I feel so foggy?” She clumsily puts the glass down, banging it about a couple of times before letting go.

“I’m trying to keep you calm so I can do my job properly, last night was a little intense, hm?”

“What do you mean? How did you get here?” Y/N is starting to get frustrated with the number of times she’s asked him that question. “Can you stop talking in riddles?”

“Sure, I’ll humour you,” he sighs. “Are you going to freak out if I sit down?” He nods to the chair he’d appeared in last night. She shakes her head faintly, eyes following him as he takes a seat. “I’m a demon. I spend my life catering to people. When somebody wants something done, very often a lazy human, they can summon a demon to do it for them. But not without some sort of price. So, you’ve clearly gone through something, oh so traumatic,” he pouts mockingly, “and you summoned me to make things better. Is that right, sad, little thing?”

Y/N is inclined to laugh right in his face, but the word demon is hanging over her head like a big, red DANGER sign and she second-guesses herself. So she shakes her head again. “No,” she sniffles, utterly overwhelmed. “Stop messing with my head.”

He stretches out in the chair, like a big cat who has just woken from a nap. “Are you gonna get all teary again if I do? I really can’t be bothered to wait for you to sleep it off a second time.”

She’s shaking her head vigorously this time, and it’s almost like she can see the sweet smell of vanilla and lime dancing away until all the tendrils have been sucked out the window. And the panic rises immediately, her chest constricting as she tries to breathe in and it gets stuck. The man rolls his eyes, drinking the rest of the cup’s contents before placing it on the floor.

“I’ve put your favourite mug down,” he pulls a mocking, tight-lipped smile, as if that would quell the anxiety of having him in her bedroom. “Now tell me why were you crying yesterday. Quickly.”

“I don’t want your help,” she says quietly, closing her eyes to block as much of him out as possible—trying to breathe. “You can go, I don’t need your help.”

“Ah, well, that’s not how it works, is it? I told you how it works. There’s a price. I can’t leave until I fulfil my job and you pay me.” He starts picking at his nails which Y/N notices are painted a pretty, blush colour. She looks at her own, a nude that she only recently put on, already chipping.

“I don’t care, I want you to go, please,” tears are brimming her eyes and she finds herself looking away so he doesn’t ridicule her for crying again. “I unsummon you, or whatever.”

“You said you weren’t going to cry,” she looks up, causing a drop to spill over and she wipes it away quickly. “If you don’t tell me what you were weeping over, I will force you to. And I don’t think you’ll enjoy that very much.”

Y/N doesn’t want to know how he would do that, so she gives in. “I just had a bad day,” she starts. She thinks once she says it all out loud it’ll get better… maybe. The man looks at her, expectantly. “It was the first day we were all meeting our new boss and I was so excited to get to work, but my period had started which meant my emotions were haywire, and I twisted my ankle, and my favourite cereal was all gone, and—”

“—Your favourite cereal was all gone? Really? That’s important to why you were crying?” He scoffs, “Humans are so odd.”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” Y/N frowns at him, placing her arms around herself in a hug. He gives a dismissive look. “So I was restless, and my ankle hurt, and I hadn’t even got to work yet. And then I arrived and I met Gen, and she’d brought me a tea,” she breathes in, “and then we get in the elevator, and I’m trying to stay calm—I thought I was doing a pretty good job too, but then we get to our floor and we walk to our desks and—” She inhales shakily, bottom lip wobbling.

“Come on, you’re getting somewhere.” He somewhat encourages, mouth curled upwards derisively but eyes gentle.

“Well, I realise I’ve left my phone in my car and I’m rushing because the boss was arriving soon and I decided to run the stairs, as the lift takes too long and I hate standing still when I’m nervous.” Her words are nearly indecipherable. “So I start to go down the stairs and I’m thinking really loudly so I can’t hear anyone else coming up, plus my ankle is screaming. And—and I run straight into the boss and she falls down the stairs—” Y/N breaks off in a snivel, “I could’ve killed her! She could’ve broken her neck or something, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran to my car and I left! Who does that? I’m so embarrassed, and upset, and I feel so guilty that I just left her there because I freaked out and—”

“That’s it?” The man stands up, clear disbelief written all over his face.

“What do you mean, that’s it?” Some of Y/N’s upset is displaced by the imminent shock she feels as he stands up, and she watches as his eyes fill with a blackness as dark as ink, swirling in smoky tendrils, until the whites and pupils are completely cloaked. “You’re just a spoiled brat, aren’t you?” He tuts. “Sitting there, crying your eyes out because you tripped a woman up.

“You know people summon me to kill? To enact revenge on the most evil of injustices. And I’m here because you pushed a woman down the stairs.” He scoffs, eyes still void of colour as he walks to the window, opening it as much as possible, and leaning his palms against the frame.

“Are you going to kill me?” Y/N asks, unsurprised that a man who claims to be a demon is a murderer but aware once again that he is in her bedroom.

“For fuck’s sake, you don’t listen, do you? No, I’m not going to kill you,” he looks over his shoulder, glancing at her dishevelled state. “I very easily could though,” he steps to the foot of her bed. “You’re a delicate, little thing. And you’ve hurt yourself so you can’t run away. I could end it all so quickly you wouldn’t even feel it, or I could drag it out forever. I could suspend you in a permanent state of dying.” His words die out, ending in a whisper, hand reaching for her leg over the covers and Y/N jerks it back—watching a grin appear.

Y/N doesn’t know how to look at him, scared that if she stares into his eyes for too long her heart will slowly stop beating or that she’ll wither like a plant. Either way, it’s like she can’t blink. It’s as if she can feel her pupils dilating, brain struggling to catch up with what she’s seeing in front of her. The man only grins wider, trailing his finger across the patterns on her sheets.

“I suppose I better help you out then, hm? And then you can pledge your soul to me and all of this will be over.”

Y/N flinches, “Pledge my what?”

“Well, what else would you expect from a demon?” He’s still smiling but his eyes are clearing and through the ink, his green irises are revealed once again.

“I don’t know… Money? Why would anyone pledge their soul to a—” She catches herself and looks at him, cautiously. He’s staring at her, mouth upturned.

“A what? Careful, now.” He walks around to the side of her bed, peering down at her whilst fiddling with the glass on her bedside table. She’s never felt so naked in her entire life as she does right now.

“You know,” she blinks meekly, “you said you kill people—”

“—Bad people.” He interjects.

“Okay, well that still makes you a murderer… so pledging my soul to you, or whatever, just sounds like a really bad idea. I don’t get how this helps me at all—you can’t kill my boss.”

Sighing, he says, “I’m really losing my patience with you now. Get up,” authority in his voice as he grabs her upper arm and tugs, causing her legs to tangle with the sheets as she is torn from her position. Y/N yelps and instinctively shoots her other arm out for support, inadvertently punching him in the stomach. He lets out a disgruntled noise and pulls the hand off of his body immediately, dragging her with more force so she can stand upright.

“Ow!” Y/N cries, “I can’t stand on it.” Her face is crumpled, looking towards the floor and she feels his grip loosen as he recognises she’s hurt.

He sighs again and gets down on one knee, pulling her socked foot onto his thigh—albeit very gently. She wobbles and grips his shoulders.

The man rolls his eyes, “Should call you Bambi, can’t balance for the life of you.” He goads.

“W-what are you doing?”

He doesn’t reply, nudging her sock to reveal the swollen skin of her ankle and brushing his fingertips over it. Y/N feels an electric warmth spread up her leg and releases a breath as the pain slowly ebbs away.

“It’s not mended, but you won’t feel it anymore,” he says, standing up. Her eyes trail up to meet his, mouth agape as she puts her weight on her foot and registers the lack of strain.

“How did you do that?” She whispers.

He grins and wiggles his fingers, “Magic,” before he takes a hold of her elbow and they vanish.

They surface, and the building in which Y/N works looms over her ominously—the inevitable walk of shame taunting her and she can feel her brain start to whir; fight or flight program ready to boot up. Y/N spins, hoping to make a quick exit and return to her wallowing in self-pity, but there’s a hand on her elbow so she doesn’t get far at all.

“How did we get here?” She tries to shrug him off, “Let go.”

The man drops her elbow, “No please, Bambi?” He feigns hurt and tuts disapprovingly.

Y/N grumbles and rolls her eyes, “If you’re going to call me that, then I think it’s only fair that I get to call you something.”

“Call me Harry,” he says.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N grits, fighting the urge to stomp like a child.

“You didn’t specify.” Harry flashes a smug grin. She thinks the name is rather ordinary for a demon, but it’s pretty—like him, she supposes. He’s tall, and has tattoos, and paints his nails, and has soft-looking hair. Y/N catches herself and immediately feels silly.

Harry is watching her and suddenly the idea of going to work doesn’t feel so bad. “What are we doing here?” She sighs.

“We’re here to get rid of your problem. G’na glamour the building, make everyone forget, yeah? Take my arm.” He holds his forearm out and Y/N takes it unconvincingly.

“What do you mean, glamour? Is this dangerous? What if someone sees us?” She babbles, watching as Harry turns his full attention to the building. Y/N is too frazzled to notice the words he utters under his breath or that his eyes are cloaked in darkness once again, only vaguely picking up on the scent she’s quickly come to associate with the demon standing next to her. She can’t believe she’s actually referring to him as a demon; she wants to believe it’s all one, big, mean joke but he literally fucking teleported them here. Gosh—Y/N’s headache is debilitating at this point.

“As long as you keep holding on, no one will see us,” Harry assures, muttering a few more words before alerting Y/N, “I’m all done.”

“Done? But nothing happened.”

“Promise you, something happened,” he says. “Now everyone thinks you went home sick yesterday and are coming in late today. And the boss fell down the stairs of her own accord so she’ll be in bed for a couple of days, no lasting damage.”

“What about when they go home? Will they—”

Harry shakes his head vehemently, “What kind of help would that be, hm? Make them forget but only for a little bit, don’t be silly. No one will remember.”

She nods to herself, shaking her hands in front of her, “Okay,” breathing in slowly, deeply, trying to psyche herself up, “okay. What now?”

He nods at the building, “You’ve got work, no?”

Y/N splutters, “But I don’t have my stuff with me! I don’t even have my car, Harry, how will I get home? And I’m still in the clothes I wore yesterday, I’m a mess.” She looks down at herself, distressed, rubbing at her face which is still puffy from all the crying. Harry sighs, thinking that this human must be doing something wrong to be struggling in life this much.

“What time do you finish?”

“Five o’clock.”

He glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s twelve. “I guess I’ll meet you here, then. Try not to push anyone else down the stairs,” he mocks, a sickeningly sweet smile on his face.

Y/N scowls and starts to hesitantly walk into the office. She chances a look behind her just to see if he’s waving her off like a proud mother—but he has gone—and the only proof he was ever there hangs in the air, before the smell disappears too.

To say Y/N is overwhelmed would be an understatement. Walking into work being an easy task was exactly what she wanted and yet she can’t help but feel guilty, like she’s got this huge illegal secret. But what could she do about it anyway? It’s not like she’s going to phone the boss and say, Oh, by the way, I actually met you yesterday but I nearly killed you by pushing you down the stairs, so I went home crying, and I accidentally summoned a demon and he made you forget so there’s no harm done!

She would be fired on the spot. Or sent to an asylum.

But she can’t focus, and she thinks maybe she should be admitted to an asylum because now that she has time to think… What the fuck? Demons? Glamours? This was stuff from the TV, not real life. And yet Y/N had inadvertently brought it right to her doorstep, just by crying! It’s so silly but the anxiety is rising and Y/N’s palms are starting to sweat, and she hasn’t done a single thing since sitting at her desk (over half an hour ago) and, quite frankly, it’s pissing her off.

Imogen had brought her a tea which Y/N appreciates but only makes her more uneasy with the memory of yesterday. She can feel her eyes on her from across the office, concern clearly plastered over her usually bright face. Y/N meets her gaze and tries to give a reassuring smile that probably comes across as more of a grimace because Imogen is wheeling her way over on her office chair immediately.

“You okay, Y/N?” She asks, hesitantly.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine!” Y/N says a little too enthusiastically. “I’m just a little out of it today, sorry,” she fiddles with her fingers. Imogen looks her over a couple of times.

“I think you’re still sick, maybe you should go home,” Imogen smiles softly, eyes filled with worry.

“Oh no, really, I’m fine, Gen!” Maybe if she says it enough, it’ll become the truth. But as she stares back at Imogen she’s only really focused on the fact that her eyes aren’t clouding with dark shadows.

“You’ve made your lip bleed,” she points out, and Y/N notices the tang of blood on her tongue. She’s eating away at herself, literally—she licks it away quickly, embarrassed at her inability to keep composed.

Imogen stands, “Come on, let’s go to the bathroom—take a break, yeah?”

Y/N can only nod, even though she has just arrived at work, wiping her palms on her thighs before following Imogen to the toilets. She holds the heavy door open for Y/N as they go inside and Y/N immediately stumbles, holding in a gasp as she sees Harry leaning against the counters with his arms folded across his chest.

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Imogen asks, gently placing a hand on her back for support. Y/N barely registers the question, eyes locked with Harry as he smirks at her, clearly enjoying the bewilderment and turmoil he’s putting her through.

“Uh, a little bit, I think I need to sit down,” Y/N breathes, eyes flicking back and forth between Harry and Imogen, checking that Imogen definitely couldn’t see him.

“Come on,” she leads her to a stall, pushing the door open and closing the toilet seat cover for Y/N to sit on.

“Thank you, Gen, I—I think I just need a minute and then I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not sure, babe, you look rough.” She touches her forehead, “You’re burning up, Y/N, will you be safe to drive home?”

Y/N is still staring at Harry, “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she hates that he will have to take her home but she doesn’t want to explain to Imogen where her car is, “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll go and get you some nice, cold water,” she rubs Y/N’s knee comfortingly before leaving the bathroom. And Y/N is standing up instantly, albeit very wobbly.

“Harry!” She’s cross. “Why are you here?” He unfolds his arms and walks towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders and forcing her to sit back down. “Stop it! I didn’t even know demons existed twenty-four hours ago and now you’re fucking everywhere.”

“I know, Bambi. I’ll take you home,” he’s gentle, and it angers Y/N more but she’s exhausted—and when did she get so lightheaded? But she’s still aware enough to be agitated when she realises he called her Bambi despite Imogen saying her name in front of him.

“I don’t want you to,” she complains.

“I know.” He repeats.

Imogen comes back in suddenly and Y/N doesn’t think anything of it, assuming Harry is still invisible but she makes a confused noise, “Who are you?”

Harry only steps up to her and looks directly into her eyes, taking the bottle of water from her hand. “You don’t remember this. You escorted Y/N to her car because she wasn’t feeling well, and now you’re freshening up in the bathroom.”

And before Y/N can even try to shout at Harry for invading her friend’s head, he’s taking her wrist and they’re dissipating.

They reappear in her bedroom and Y/N stumbles her way into the bathroom, falling on her knees and resting her forehead on the toilet seat—she doesn’t think she’ll actually be sick but she needs to feel grounded. Trying to focus on her breathing and the cool feel of the plastic on her skin, Y/N closes her eyes and supposes she could fall asleep but then Harry (fucking Harry) steps around her and turns the shower on.

“Come on, Y/N, you’ll feel better,” he tries, his voice still disgustingly soft.

Y/N closes her eyes tighter, “I don’t need you here, Harry, go away.”

“Don’t be ungrateful,” he spits, immediately void of tenderness. “I didn’t have to bring you home, I could’ve left you stranded at work.”

“I’m only in this mess because of you! You’re the reason I didn’t have my car,” Y/N bites back.

Harry can’t be bothered to get into it now, “Get in the shower. I won’t tell you again.” He orders, before leaving the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Y/N rolls her eyes but she stands up. Not because he told her to, but because she was going to shower anyway—she tells herself. There’s little energy left in her body and the thought of a bath is much nicer but she’d probably just fall asleep in it. So she takes off her nearly two-day-old clothing and lets out a little whine of relief before stepping under the hot stream and pulling across the shower curtain.

When she leaves the shower after fifteen—blissfully tranquil—minutes, she’s surprised to see one of her oversized sleep shirts and a towel on top of the toilet seat cover. Y/N grumbles under her breath at the nice gesture and scoffs at the lack of underwear he brought in with the shirt. “Pervert,” she mutters.

“I heard that,” Harry says from her bedroom, and she thinks she’d rather like to punch him. Quickly, she dries off and throws the shirt on before sitting on the toilet. It pools over her thighs. “You would’ve accused me of the same thing if I had gone through your drawers,” his voice is ice cold.

“I need underwear, I’m on my period, you dick,” Y/N says, patience worn thin. She hears him bang her drawers shut before the bathroom door is swung open and he throws the underwear in her general direction, eyes averted, “Oh please, I’m decent,” her voice is acidic and Harry’s anger is simmering as he looks at her, expression eerily unaffected.

“I preferred you when you were crying,” he hisses, before slamming the door closed.

Y/N is about ready to scream bloody murder and push Harry out of her window as she finishes up in the bathroom, grumbling away to herself. She’s grateful her tears have been replaced with rage, much less forlorn, she thinks. And she knows exactly what she’s going to say to him, and he’ll leave whether he likes it or not.

“Okay Harry, it’s been fun—” Y/N starts as she enters her bedroom, but she stops when she sees Harry lying on her bed, one arm behind his head with the other draped over his stomach. “Get up,” she grits, spotting the pillow Harry had first taken from her, lying by the door, before picking it up.

“What are you going to do with that?” He smirks, closing his eyes, looking ever so comfortable on her bed. Y/N climbs up next to him and brings the pillow down with as much force as she can muster. Harry barely releases a breath but his eyes shoot open. She hits him again, “Get out—” and again, “—of my—” and again, “—house! Get out!”

“You do that one more time…” Harry seethes, never moving a muscle. Y/N is rattled by just how rattled she feels by this man; sure that this anger is unmatched by anything she’s ever experienced, and her arms move before her brain does, whacking him again.

She barely sees him move but suddenly she’s on her back with her arms pinned above her head, nearly off the end of the bed. Harry is hovering over her, eyes pitch black, and Y/N’s own widen briefly in shock. She almost feels excitement bubble up in eliciting this reaction out of him, in winning their argument. Or so she thinks.

Y/N tries to kick at him, knee hitting his abdomen but he’s quick to sit on her thighs and she’s squirming desperately, an angry whine escaping her lips.

“Stop.” His voice is deep, authoritative. “Stop before I make you,” and Y/N’s breath catches as she stares, unblinking, up into his eyes. He leans down and grazes his lips over the shell of her ear. “This isn’t a game. Angering a demon on purpose is a very silly thing to do, Y/N.” She swallows, aware of the weight of his body on her legs and his mouth so close to her skin. “Assuming I won’t kill you just because I said I wouldn’t,” he whispers, the air hot against her neck. A noise gets caught in her throat.

She shakes her head, “Please don’t, I’m sorry.”

“Mmm, I thought so. You g’na stop being so petulant?”

Y/N nods, “Yes,” she exhales.

“Good. You gonna promise me your soul?”

Her head is so fuzzy she nearly agrees again but then her eyes shoot open, “No!” And she’s shaking her head violently. But he’s quick to grab her jaw. He forces her head to stop moving and he’s glaring at her so intensely that she thinks he might set her on fire.

“Calm down,” he removes his weight from her legs and sits to the side of her, bringing her arms down to rest on either side of her head. “You know, you didn’t even thank me for helping you. S’not very nice. And if you won’t pledge your soul to me then I suppose I’ll just have to take the glamour away.”

“Harry, No!” She gasps, all the anger she’d had completely dissipating and she wants so badly to be furious, but she can only panic. “Please don’t do that.”

“You’ll have to promise me something then.” She nods, “Never antagonise a demon like that ever again.”

Y/N sighs, relieved, “Like I’ll run into another one any time soon. I had managed to avoid them for over two decades.”

“We’re around more than you realise. I’m serious, Y/N. Promise me, or I’ll make everyone remember. It really doesn’t affect me.”

“I promise,” she huffs.

He slowly releases his grip from her wrists, seemingly satisfied. “Come on—into bed,” Harry pries her sheets back.

“But it’s like two p.m.”

“Yeah, and you’ve had a tough few days believing in demons and whatnot, so it’s time for bed.”

She finds herself doing what he says, sitting up and climbing under her sheets, “I can’t believe I’m actually listening to you.”

“I can.” He watches to make sure she lies down properly before making his way towards the door. “I’ll know if you break your promise,” he says, pausing in the doorway, broad back facing her. He’s gone before Y/N can ask how, but a deep-rooted sense of dread settles in her stomach as if she has made a deal with the devil. And she supposes that she very well might have done.

Y/N’s refusal to pledge her soul really doesn't affect Harry in the slightest; demons could survive on whatever they chose to. Harry has always chosen to reap souls after their pledgers have passed away, usually from natural causes. Or he’ll take them from whichever prick he deems evil enough to snuff out of existence. But if he decides tomorrow that he wants to suck every last drop of blood from his victims to sustain himself instead, then his body would cope just fine. Not that Harry would ever enjoy that. He could choose not to eat or drink at all if he really wanted to, but he’d tried that once when he’d had to take care of his mother as a child, and it was the most miserable week ever. He’d been far too wired to think about stopping for himself, but once she started feeling better he realised how much he’d missed food. Harry found, after years of experimenting, that culling souls is the most effective way of squashing the demon guilt he unnaturally feels, whilst also maintaining his demonic capacity.

He decides to walk, needing the fresh air. He admittedly feels a little silly for his behaviour, pinning Y/N down like that and causing her heart to nearly beat out of her chest. He just wasn’t expecting an outburst like that from her; she’d been so distraught when they’d first met—a weepy thing. And the next thing he knows, she's whacking him about with a pillow—not menacing in the slightest but he’ll admit it did take him by surprise. But she needed to be scared of him, scared of his species; it's easy to trust them in their human vessels but they are in no way similar other than visually. That’s how he justifies behaving the way he did. And maybe that’s why he feels the need to get outside, to let the cold breeze shock him. To really register what the fuck is going on.

Harry hasn’t given himself the time to question how he was summoned by someone who doesn’t know how to do it, and he’s tried hard to believe that she was lying but how could she be? How could she be when he’d appeared in that chair and she was sobbing with her head in her hands; no candles, no books, no incantations, nothing? It feels like the start of something Harry has no interest in being involved with, which is why looking back, he’s very relieved that the reason for her crying was so ridiculously simple, despite his reaction suggesting otherwise. He had felt inconvenienced and undervalued when she’d told him her problem; another job he was extremely overqualified to deal with, but now he thinks maybe it's a blessing that it wasn’t something worse. If she’d wanted someone dead then he might’ve been more concerned about her inadvertent summoning, but perhaps this is a one-off and he’ll never hear from her again.

He really hopes that will be the case.

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #demon harry #demon!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles blurb #writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles demon #demon #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #blurb #blurbs #imagine #demonrry #vanilla lime

[suekeyyyy]

If your requests are open. Could you do a homelander smut with a female reader where she already has a baby and he see her breastfeeding the baby and i would like it rough and hard only if you're okay with writing if not i will take anything. Thank you

I got you bro.

Long days.

Homelander x fem!reader

Summary: Vanessa has been Ashley's assistant for about Six months and has become pregnant and has her baby Skyler a baby boy.

Warnings: bad words, groping, babies, Smut, Breastfeeding, nipple play, Oral, breeding, Gass lighting.

----.-------.-------.--------.-------.--------.-------.-------.----------.----

- Vanessa sat in her office, typing an email for black noirs. Accepting the new sponsorship as the face of some serial brand when she hears the door of her office open, she looks up and sees Homelander in smiles. " Homelander, it's nice to see you again." She smiles back at him, tilting her head to the side a little.

" Ms. Holland, it's nice to see you, to how is the baby aaa Sky was it?" He asked in a sarcastic way she gave him a dry chuckle." Skyler, and yes, he is well." Homelander insisted on meeting the boy when he was first born, but he only met him when he was 4 months old.

Homelander looked down at Vanessa boobs they were bigger, and her hips were wider to he bit his lip. " Do you need help with everything, Homelander?" Are you trying to get rid of me?" He smirks. " Not at all." She says, finally fullly looking him in his face, her glasses Reflected her screen and the email she was sending.

" Well, Ashley sends her best wishes to baby Skyler. The little guy is so adorable, right, Ms. Holland?" He was jealous of the baby she could hear it in his voice. " Oh yes, he is."

Homelander stares at her. " Is there any way I could see you in private? Maybe we could discuss it over lunch, or maybe dinner? Or if it’s more comfortable for you, we could meet in room 204 in the next hour? I just find that the privacy of a hotel room really makes for a much more relaxed, honest environment." She chuckled at his sweet yet childish request. " I only have two hours of work left. Why can't you just visit my house like normal?~"

" Oh, but don’t you see? That's precisely the point. I want us to have a private discussion, an intimate encounter, something that'll leave a lasting impression. Just imagine us... alone at a table, enjoying the company of each other over a delicious meal. a romantic night, just you and me." Goes behind her chair and rubbed her shoulders.

" I have to pick up Skyler from daycare, so I have to say no. Even if I want to do it, just come over after my shift, it would be easier. " He sighed Aggravated by her.

" No, no. You don’t understand, dear. What we do together will have to be a secret. I can not just pop over to your little house for a casual visit. I need total privacy. That's why I need a hotel room with soundproof walls where no one will bother us. It's the perfect place to have deep and rough-"

He rubbed her shoulders harder, but she cut him. She smirked that him " I have soundproof walls.~"

"And a nice big mattress, too?" He asked a smirk on his face, and she nodded." Well, then, may I come over after you pick up Skyler?" "mhm." She smiled he was so cute.

" Excellent. And don't worry, my lips are sealed. Our little secret is going to stay exactly that. A secret. I swear. I'll see you soon, sweetheart. And call me John." She waves him out.

About two hours later, Vanessa clocks out and divers to Skyler's daycare. She walks into the building and signs, and that's usually does writing her son's name, then her name, and how she was related to him.

She walks to the newborn, an infant room when she sees a Sister Cassie. She was classified as a nun, the only one at the daycare.

" Oh, Ms. Holland Skyler is in play pin with the other babys." Sister Cassie loved Vanessa she was a powerful woman in her eyes. Taking care, baby, by herself with no man to help her. "Thank you, Sister." She walks over to the huge play pin and sees Skyler and smiles,"My baby boy. " She says and reaches out to grab Skyler, Skyler smiles, and when he sees that, it's his mommy.

She walks out with Skyler spitting up on her power suit. She sits her Skyler down, making sure he is safe in his blue monster ink car seat.

The fit.

[ A/n: With socks with no kevonn on it. ]

- Vanessa pulls up to her home and goes to the back seat, grabs the car seat, and walks it to her house door. Opening it and locking it behind herself, she walked straight to Skyler's room just as she sat his car seat down he started crying and yelling.

She picked up the boy only for him to yell louder she started to unbutton her shirt, slow sitting down, showing her black bra she pushed down her left side of her bra.

Revealing her tit to the boys, Homelander sat in the room next door face to the wall watching, and he was turned on.He had a bin there for about an hour sitting and walking around her room sniffing her stuff her bras just be closer to her.

Skyler was already lached to her boob his right baby holding her hand while to others holding her boob she really loved her baby Skyler.

"Shh.. It’s okay, Skyler. Mama’s here." Vanessa gently rubbed her son’s head as he latched to her breast, drinking in her milk. "Shhhh... It's okay. Everything's is fine. Mama's is right here." A contented smile spread across Vanessa’s face as her son fed. She sat there for a moment, rocking back and forth, gazing down at her newborn and savoring this precious moment.

Homelander drolled. Only slightly wiped his face, not carrying that much about the drol ' Hmm, the little bastard doesn't seem to notice me at all. He only has eyes for those boobs. Just as he should. I can't wait to put my own lips on those things. I'll suck those things dry, and when she'll begs me for more, It's going to be so... Satisfying I'm going to have so much fun with that woman.'

about two minutes later. Skyler was a sleep in his crib. Vanessa fixed her shirt and walked into her room only to see Homelander.

"Ah, there she is. What a beautiful mother you are, Ms. Holland. It's so sweet watching you take care of a child. An seeing you're with an all-you-can-eat buffet. I mean wow."

She only chuckled it wasn't the first time he had done this she it was normal of her. " Well, thank you for the compliment." She pats his cheek.

Homelander smiled. "I have a request, Ms. Holland. I'd like to taste your milk. May I drink it fresh and warm? Straight from the source?"

Vanessa had Surprise looked on her face he had watch her nurse before But he never took it this far. She bit her lip.

' what the fuck am I doing?'

" Sure, why not? I mean, there's a first time of everything." She slowly walked to her queen size bed Revealing her black bra once more."Mmm, looks delicious." Homelander was enjoying every moment he walked up to the woman Bending down to her Torso unbuttoing her heat belt and pulling her pants down.

- She had white underwear on Homelander Roughly pushed her back into the bed she yelped as he pulled down her underwear. He got in-between her legs and kissed her biting her lip.

She raped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer he unbuttoned her bra. " Shit." He said, looking her her boobs the bare light brown skin of Vanessa's boobs and the Hazel of her nipple as it strained against the air making them hard. He took the the buds into his mouth making her moan out.

An hold his face closer, she slowly pulled down his plants showing of his horse cock he bit her nipple she jolted and before she could protest Homelander had her on her Stomach and he whispered " Did I say to take off my pants?" She was surprised by his reaction." Answer me slut." He sounded cold in his voice.

' Slut who is he talking to?'

" No you didn't." "So why did you do it?" She gasped as her Felt his dick going to her body " Oh John!"

Shhhh

He whispered to her as he pounded into her. Relentlessly, one of his gloved hands grabbed her as wall the other held her boob as milk as slow came out. She grabbed for the head borders of her bed, trying to stabilize herself as she moaned and cried out for Homelander.

"Oh, that's good and you're good milk-maker, aren't you, Vanessa?" He said into her ear. "You've been pumping it out just for me, haven't you? Because you know I want as much of it as you can give me. I want it all, Vanessa. I can't get enough of it. You belong to me, now Vanessa. " He whispered to her.

She moaned out louder she moaned longer as she felt him hit her G-spot."Oh, John, yes, right there right there!"

" Right here!?" " Yes!" She yelled out as he hit it harder. Homelander griped the back of the hair, pulling her head back, and he kissed. She melted in his hands like slime.

Wall in the next room, baby Skyler sound a slept peacefully with his blanket kicked off.

" I'm gonna - " go ahead, dear, come for me." Vanessa and Homelander both came at the same time, and her hole body went limp.

Homelander's satisfied smile grew wider. He slowly pulled out of Vanessa's body. He flipped the woman on her back and gave her breast, and gave a final squeeze before releasing it. He leaned back, his body relaxed.

Vanessa sleepaly climbs up to Homelander's chest, holding him close to her. He looked at the sleeping Vanessa, then in the next room sleeping baby Skyler. Both of them were his to pamper now. " I love you, John." Vanessa whispered, and he only kissed her forhead. " Yeah, of course you do."

#x black fem reader #x black reader #x reader #homelander #homelander imagine #homelander x reader #the boys #the boys imagine #homelander smut #fem reader

[verstppism]

Boy's Talk (About You) - Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - take me anywhere but home

word count: 1957

masterpost.

synopsis everyone has their secrets, a group chat formed by charles leclerc, pierre gasly, alex albon, lando norris and george russell knows all of them. the 'kill the grid' chat has only one purpose: gossiping about other drivers' lives, romantic and social

or, a casual chat leads to charles confessing a crush on max, who's has been his rival since childhood

If Charles was still half asleep, the iMessage notifications coming from Max definitely woke him up. All the nervousness and anxiety from last night made sense: Max was leaving Brazil and his girlfriend to spend New Years in Monaco. But what were his intentions behind such a sudden decision? If Max really broke up with her, then he wouldn’t be texting the older one on a cold December morning. Or would he? Max Verstappen was a confusing person. One night, he says he’s not happy with his girlfriend, the other he goes on a private padel match with his ex-rival. Things seem to go well between them.

It’s when he posts a photo with his girlfriend after the race that tears everything apart. Still in his racing suit. Messy hair. Still sweating. Everything that belonged to Charles and to him only. In fact, Max was his. Who does she think she is? Charles only thought about how he could talk so casually about Kelly right before calling him “Charlie” and pushing him as far away from Lance as possible in the sprint podium. It was driving him insane — More than he already is. After eternal minutes discussing his own love life and its frustrations, Charles notices he left Max on read, he had accidentally opened the app and his conversation with the other one.

“charlie: good morningg “

“charlie: i am! are u okay? “

Charles was really at a loss at words, so he decided to pretend that he didn’t know where Max was nor that he was a few meters from the blonde’s house.

“maxiee: yeah “

“maxiee: just had a little change of plans and came back to monaco “

“charlie: oh really? “

“charlie: did anything happen or? “

“maxiee: can we talk about this in person? “

“maxiee: we can go to that café you mentioned in the padel match “

He… Remember. Their meeting (date?) was months ago, and he remembers it. Something he slightly mentioned once in a lifetime, and he recalls it in perfect detail. Charles wonders if Max remembers everything that pondered his mind. He asks himself if he recalls their discussions back in their karting days, or when they slowly started to use pet names for the first time. In the end, did Max realize that they were made for each other, even though they were predestined to fight for a whole life?

“charlie: of course! what time? “

“maxiee: im just getting ready, i’ll be there in a couple minutes “

“maxiee: nothing is too far here “

Charles giggles at the last message, like he always did when he exchanged messages with his beloved. After all, it was more of a date orchestrated by Max — he is good at setting up dates so subtly. Or maybe Charles just accepts every invite from the other. — and again, alone together. A more casual reunion this time: without any sport or anyone that could get in their way. It seemed like a dream, Charles hoped it wasn’t.

He didn’t even mind telling his friends of such an important event, just got up from his bed and quickly got ready. Casual clothing and sunglasses to go unnoticed. It wasn’t easy to go on a date in broad daylight in a city as small as Monte Carlo.

—————

It really didn't take long for them to meet. That little cafeteria was one of the secret gems of Monaco, hidden between beautiful historic buildings. As Charles arrived, he already could see Max, stirring coffee and sugar on the delicate little cup. He was looking down, his face with little to no emotion, more like hesitant of… something. 

The doorbell ring filled the quiet place when the older entered the place getting the other's attention, which gave a soft and kinda sad smile to him. A smile that wasn't common as the post race ones or those shared in press conferences. ‘This is not the moment to overthink your relationship with him.’ Charles thought. 

“I’m not late this time. '' Leclerc broke the awkward silence between them as he sat down. “Yeah… I mean, you live around here, no?” Max sounded somewhat different. Nervous? Sad? Reading his feelings through his face wasn’t Charles’ best ability. “So remember when I told you I would spend New Years in Brazil?” 

“Of course! I was also about to ask you about it. Why did you come back home?” He said as he sat down. Home. Not the best wording at the moment, given that he’s actually Dutch and we are somewhere around near South France. It’s what they say: ‘home is where the heart is’. “Like… Did anything happen?”

“Yeah, uh…”  Apprehensive. A worried tone filled his voice. “Me and Kelly had a little fight right after Christmas and I thought it would be better for us to part ways. She wasn’t very willing to but… Can I be honest? I was growing tired of being stuck with her.”

Stuck with her. Stuck. Max was tired. Max doesn't like her. At All. Charles felt like his chest was collapsing in the best way possible. How was he supposed to act normally and feel pity for them when butterflies filled his stomach?

“And you know, I only kept the relationship up because of her daughter…” Verstappen smiled while looking at the cup. The older’s intrusive thoughts were telling to adopt a child with that man. He was such a good dad after all! “And PR too. I think our love wasn't reciprocal… I was there for the kid and she was for the status of being a Formula One driver's girlfriend.” 

“Oh Max… That's too bad. I’m so sorry for you” A pitiful look surged on Charles’ face, trying to show empathy and not that he was going insane over all of this. “I’m sure you and her will be able to meet again.” A shy smile appeared on the younger’s face when ocean and emerald eyes met. A comfortable silence surrounded them, only the ambient sound and smell of fresh coffee filled the empty café.

“Now that we are on the topic, it may sound rude but I need to get this off my chest. I doubt you two would still be together if you didn't win in 2021.” Still apprehensive, Charles felt safe to talk shit about Max’s ex-girlfriend. When he saw the other’s eyes glitter at the comment, he was sure: the blonde has been waiting forever to do this. “You doubt? I'm 100% sure! After we left RedBull’s party she started talking about marriage, mate. Can you believe that!?” 

Minutes that felt like hours passed by. Charles and Max talked about many secrets they've kept for each other for the mere thought of “this is not something you usually tell your best friend, especially when he’s dating a person you don’t really like”. In fact, they would never get to these specific topics – mostly about relationships. Maybe both were scared of oversharing and confessing their true love, ruining it all for once. The older didn't know if delusional thoughts took over, but he felt things were getting intimate, at some point, their feet touched and so their legs proceeded to slightly intertwine. 

They didn’t even bother to order food or anything. — and so the waiters did not ask them to. Perhaps it was an obvious date to whoever passed by. When leaving, Max only paid for this coffee cup that was now cold, half drunken and long forgotten on the table. Both got so deep in conversation they forgot the world keeps spinning, and the day goes by, like they always do. Like it always happens. If you didn’t know, you would guess that they were long-distance boyfriends meeting for the first time.

It was almost dusk when they left the café. The orange-ish colors in the sky implied the sun was setting, and so Max and Charles decided to walk home. Staying side by side on a very narrow sidewalk made their shoulders brush at all times.  

As they got closer to Leclerc’s house, he noticed that Max started to tense up. Was he scared of something? Scared of leaving Charles? That reaction started to worry him but as soon as they got to the older’s doorstep he spoke up, point blank:

“I… Charlie, the true meaning behind this all-of-a-sudden meeting is that… You are the love of my life. I’m sorry for not noticing it earlier.” Max stuttered, a subtle way to let the other know it was hidden and buried deep inside with fear for years and years. Maybe even his whole life. It drove Charles insane. It’s like he was feeling every single emotion at the same time. He swore he was dying or something. The older man fought every desire to kiss him right here in the middle of an empty sideroad right in front of his house, but he knew it would appear in every headline in worldwide newspapers. “Charles ‘il predestinato’ Leclerc is found kissing Life-long rival Max Verstappen”. That is not the best way to be in the news, probably something that would end their careers or worse: their friendship. With no words left to say, Charles just hugged him tight as if he would disappear at any time. “Je t'aime moi aussi, mon amour” He said as one or two teardrops slid across his cheek.

Feeling something wet hit his shoulder, Max broke the hug but still kept their bodies suspiciously close. He held the other’s face with both big hands as their eyes met once again, but now with much more compassion. After all they’ve gone through, all their ups and downs brought them to this moment. What they’ve been waiting for. 

“Wait wait wait.” Charles popped the little bubble they builded to protect themselves from the rest of the world. “Can we get inside first? I mean, it’s very romantic to kiss in the middle of the crosswalk I know but we’re kinda famous so yeah…” Max chuckled at the comment. “Of course we can, schatje”

He unlocked the door and let Verstappen enter as if nothing almost happened a few seconds ago. “Uh… So are-” He’s interrupted by the softest of lips crashing into his own, almost cornering him into a wall like a (ironically) raging bull. For the very first seconds they are both surprised by the feeling but locked in very quickly. This kiss felt like heaven, the way both mouths swayed together felt like they were pieces to a puzzle, just waiting for it to be finally found and placed together. It was definitely not what Charles thought it would be like but it was good nonetheless. 

They only broke the kiss when there was no oxygen left in their bodies still, they stayed close, panting and hanging on by a thread of spit. Leclerc hid his face on his lover’s shoulder and started giggling, ending up with a lowkey confused Max.

“Why are you laughing?” He said, with a broad smile on his face. Charles’ laugh was contagious.

“This is so stupid. Why did we take so long to do this?” 

It all came down to them snuggling together in Charles’ bed. The moonlight that invaded the room through a slightly opened window shines in their features, giving both an godly look. After a whole day spent with Max, Leclerc seemed to forget about his friends, who might’ve gone insane by his disappearance. So he was right: when checking his phone he’s welcomed with 86 missed calls, – all coming from 4 different people – and at least 300 messages coming from his group chat, Kill the Grid. Charles opens it, doesn’t read any of the past messages and starts typing.

“charlie: guys, youll never know what just happened '' Send it.

taglist: @mrsbrxkkxr , @nyxstice , @thedecalcomania-blog ,@sebastianize <3

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #f1 au #f1 smau #smau #socmed au #lestappen #lestappen au #lestappen fanfic #lestappen smau #3316 #mv33 #cl16 #max verstappen #charles leclerc #boys talk #verstppism

[octoberclidan]

You're Not a Burden

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Reader (she/her) has been distant from both Sam and Dean recently. Dean goes to her apartment to find that reader has been struggling with her mental health. He brings her back to the bunker and makes her let him and Sam take care of her.

Note: this was written by myself for myself; there are probably mistakes. My first language is English but I'm not American, so it may sound weird in places if you happen to be American reading it. If you do happen to come across this and spend time reading it, I hope you enjoy it somewhat!

Masterlist

Story:

Dean made his way from the bunker's kitchen to the library, hoping to find Sam and see if there were any possible cases. They'd only just finished up a case the day before, but they were on a winning streak and Dean wanted to get as many wins in as he could while their luck lasted.

"So get this". Music to Dean's ears. Sam was staring intently at his laptop screen, and Dean walked over to look at the screen over Sam's shoulder.

"A couple were found dead in this abandoned house, I had a look back at the history and turns out there's a pattern. A couple has died in that house every six years going back to 1953". Sam explained while he was scrolling through a news article. "Think maybe [Y/N] would want to tag along for this? I know she's been busy the last few cases, but this sounds like a ghost to me and she's good with those".

Dean nodded in agreement. "Yeah, yeah I'll call her. Haven't seen her in awhile anyway, it would be good to catch up and see what she's been so busy with".

"You miss her don't you?" Sam smirked at him.

"What? Sure, of course I miss her when she's not around. Like Cas, or Jody, or... or Garth"

"You miss [Y/N] like you miss Garth?"

"Shut up". Sam still had a knowing smirk on his face and Dean glared at him. He enjoyed spending time with her when she joined them on hunts. They had first met on a ghost case several years back, Dean had instantly started to hit on her, and they developed a very flirty friendship but had never done anything. She often helped them on hunts, especially ghost hunts, but she also just hung out with them a lot too. She had watched movies with Dean, documentaries with Sam, sparred with both of them and researched with them. At least, she used to. They had been seeing less and less of her recently, she always seemed to be busy whenever Dean tried to call or text her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called her, but it rang out. He tried again, and to his surprise she answered.

"Hi Dean". She sounded quieter, less energetic than usual.

"Hey Sweetheart, Sam and I think we have a possible ghost case, do you want in?"

"Oh I'm actually busy with something, but if you guys run into trouble just let me know".

"Are you okay [Y/N]? You don't really sound like yourself".

"Yeah I'm fine".

"Maybe after we're back you could come over to the bunker for a movie night? We haven't had one in months".

"Yeah, I have to go now, good luck and say hi to Sam". [Y/N] hung up on Dean before waiting for a response from him. Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean's confused expression.

"She just said she was busy again".

"Huh, think everything's okay?" Asked Sam, his expression turning to one of concern.

"You think maybe she's seeing someone?"

"What like dating? Would that bother you?"

Dean scoffed, trying to hide the answer that was probably written on his face. The truth was that it would definitely bother him. Although he and [Y/N] had never gone past flirting, he knew he had stronger feelings for her.

***

The hunt was successful, and the boys were back in the bunker within two days of leaving. Dean had texted [Y/N] while on the case asking for advice on an aspect of the case that he didn't really need advice on, but she hadn't answered him. Sam noticed him checking his phone at any chance he got, and Dean was noticeably distracted on the drive home.

"Dude why don't you just go see her?" Sam said as they walked down the bunker's staircase.

"What?"

"[Y/N], you know her address, it's only a 40 minute drive away. If you're that worried about her just go see her, I don't need you that distracted on a hunt, you almost let the ghost throw you through a window because you were checking your phone. In an abanded house, with the EMF reader going off, lights flickering, cold air, the whole works, you had your salt gun down by your side and were checking your phone!"

"Whatever Sammy". Dean rolled his eyes and made for the showers.

Dean walked from the shower back to his bedroom. Before even taking off his towel and getting dressed he checked his phone. Nothing from [Y/N]. He texted her again, asking if she was up for that movie night at the bunker. After getting dressed he checked his phone, no answer. He sat on his bed staring at his phone for a few minutes before calling her, but it rang out. Not being able to take the silence anymore, he grabbed his keys, stormed past Sam and got straight into the Impala, setting off for [Y/N]'s apartment. He needed to know that she was alive at least.

***

[Y/N] heard her phone buzzing for the fourth or fifth time that day, but ignored it again. She was tucked into her bed, and had been since the previous day. She had barely left her apartment at all in the last month, only really venturing out once or twice when she had finally run out of food. She felt tired, drained, and unmotivated. She hadn't hunted, hadn't met up with any of her friends, and just spent most days in bed either half paying attention to her TV or aimlessly scrolling through her phone. Any time someone tried to contact her over the last couple of months she had told them she was 'busy', not wanting to go through the effort of showering, dressing properly, and putting on a show. Over the last few days she had stopped responding altogether. The last person she had spoken to was two days ago when Dean asked her if she wanted to go on a ghost hunt, a conversation that lasted less than a minute.

She didn't know or care what the time was or how long she had been in bed that day, and was about to doze off again when the doorbell rang. The unexpected noise made her freeze. She waited a couple of minutes, trying to listen for further noise when there was a loud knock on the front door. Grabbing the gun on her bedside table, she slowly made her way out to the door. She stood up on her toes to look through the peephole and felt relief when she saw Dean Winchester standing on the other side. He looked agitated, and about two minutes away from kicking the door in. Before he had a chance, [Y/N] unlocked it and opened it just enough for her to show half of her face.

Dean paled when he saw her. She had severe bags under her eyes, she had obviously lost weight, her hair was all tangled and her clothes were creased, she had definitely slept in them.

"Dean?" Her voice was only slightly above a whisper.

"Sweetheart" Dean sighed, face full of concern. "Can you let me in please?"

[Y/N] just nodded and opened the door farther, stepping back to let Dean come in. He closed the door behind him and put his hands on her shoulders, slightly crouching down to get to her level and look her in the eyes. "Talk to me". He pleaded with her.

"I'm just tired Dean". She was avoiding eye contact, looking down and focusing her attention on nervously intertwining her fingers together.

"[Y/N] this is not just tiredness. When was the last time you ate? Brushed your hair? Left your apartment?"

"I don't know".

"Okay, you're coming back to the bunker now."

"No wait, Dean-"

"You're coming, no excuses, you're not busy, you just need a bit of help to get back on track".

"I don't want to be a burden. I'm just feeling a bit sad, I'll get over it, you can just leave me here".

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. You're not a burden. Think of all those times you've helped me get through things, or Sam? It's okay to need to lean on us sometimes [Y/N], but you have to be honest with us, okay? No saying you're busy when you're actually feeling down from now on. You can be vulnerable around me, I already know you're a badass hunter, you've nothing to prove to me. Let me help you get your strength back". Dean grabbed her hand and opened the door, pulling her out of the apartment and down to the impala. He opened the passenger door for her before going around to the driver's side.

***

The drive back to the bunker was quiet. Dean would glance over to [Y/N] occasionally and each time would be shocked at how run down she looked. She was still beautiful to him, but he would much prefer a healthier look. When they got back he led the way down the stairs of the bunker, Sam looking up at them from the map table.

"Hey [Y/N], long time no see! How are... hey are you okay?" Sam stood up once he got a better look at [Y/N], just as surprised as Dean was at her appearance.

[Y/N] just nodded at him and tried to hide slightly behind Dean, not wanting anyone else to see her like this.

"Come on, you're gonna have a bubble bath and then you're going to watch a movie with me and Sam." Sam smiled sadly at her as they passed him, Dean holding her hand and leading her to the bathroom. She sat down on the closed toilet seat while Dean began drawing a bath, making as many bubbles as he could. No one had ever looked after her like this, her heart swelled at Dean's attitude towards her this evening. He hadn't made her feel embarrassed about how he'd found her or how she was acting, he really just wanted to help her.

"Right, that should be nice and hot. You get out of those clothes and get yourself comfortable in there okay? Don't lock the door, I'll be back in a bit with some clean clothes for you. You can use the soap there on the side of the bath. I'll get Sam to set up one of the bedrooms for you. You're going to stay here with us until we all agree that you're really alright." [Y/N] nodded in understanding, too tired to refuse, and Dean left, closing the door behind him.

The bath water was a perfect temperature, and once she lay down there were enough bubbles to completely cover her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a few seconds, just letting herself enjoy something for once, before picking up the bar of soap and getting to work. True to his word, Dean was back with a pile of neatly folded clothes. He left them on the counter and kneeled down next to her, something black in his hand. Holding it up to her, she could see it was a hairbrush.

"Let's tackle this tangle of hair will we?" He smiled softly at her. "Sam said we could use some of his special conditioner that he keeps hidden under the sink". He winked and leaned over to grab it. "Can you lean forward for me a bit?"

"You don't have to detangle my hair Dean, I can do it myself".

"I know you can, but I would like you to let me do this for you".

[Y/N] gave in and turned her back to Dean, giving him better access to the mess on her head. He scooped up some water with his hands and poured it onto her head, dampening her hair. He then squeezed some of Sam's conditioner out into his hand and began gently threading it through [Y/N]'s hair. He used his fingers to untangle the worst of it, working from the ends and making his way up to her scalp. Once he got to the top of her head he began massaging her scalp, and [Y/N] couldn't help but close her eyes and lean back into his hands. He smiled at this, comforted by the fact that he was able to make her relax and feel good.

After a few minutes Dean added some more conditioner to her hair and picked up the hairbrush. He began to gently brush through her hair, now focusing on only the few small tangles that were left. They didn't speak, but the silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable for both of them. [Y/N] felt both vulnerable and safe there with Dean, just letting him take care of her.

Once Dean had rinsed her hair he noticed that the bubbles were starting to die down, and the water was getting cooler. Not wanting to expose [Y/N] or make her cold, he decided to stand up and let her get dressed. "There's a clean towel here for you, and I've left some clothes on the counter. They're gonna be too big for you so make sure roll up the pants so you don't trip. You just take your time and when you're finished make your way to the Dean Cave okay? I'll get Sam to go get some food from that diner you like and I'll be setting up for the movie". With that, he closed the door behind him.

[Y/N] dried herself off and picked up the clothes that Dean had left her; an old t-shirt, one of his warmer looking flannels, a pair of his boxers, and pyjama bottoms. They were all loose on her, but definitely comfortable. She smiled when she noticed that the flannel smelled like Dean, the first time she had managed a smile in weeks. It felt like she was being hugged by him.

When she got to the Dean Cave, it was all set up ready for a movie. Dean looked up from his position on the couch and smiled at her when she walked in. He had loaned her a flannel before on cases, but seeing her entirely dressed in his clothes gave him a sense of warmth and comfort. "Hey Sweetheart, feeling a bit better?"

"Definitely cleaner and fresher, thank you Dean".

"No need to thank me". He patted the space beside him, motioning for her to take it. [Y/N] sat down a bit stiffly, not leaning back on the couch. "What is it Sweetheart?"

"It's just my hair is wet, if I lean against the couch it will dry kinda weirdly flattened on the back of my head".

Dean moved his thighs apart from each other. "Come on, sit down on the floor, I'll braid it for you".

[Y/N] raised an eyebrow, starting to feel a bit amused at this gesture. "You know how to braid hair?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Charlie taught me, said it would be good to know if I ever finally managed to get a girlfriend or something". [Y/N] couldn't help put giggle at imagining Charlie trying to teach Dean how to braid hair, but she took his offer and sat down on the floor between his legs. Just like when he washed her hair, Dean was very gentle. He combed her hair back with his fingers and began to get to work.

"So do... do you ever like, want that?"

"Want what Sweetheart?"

"You know, a girlfriend".

Dean paused for a moment to think before continuing the braid. "I don't know how a girlfriend would work in this life. I don't want to bring anyone into the world of hunting, you know?"

"Yeah I get that. So what about someone already in that world?"

"I gue-"

"Hey guys, I got our food, movie ready to go?" Sam interrupted Dean as he came in with a bag from the diner, setting it down on the table Dean had set out in front of the couch. "Comfortable there [Y/N]?" Sam looked down at her.

"Hey Sam, did you know Dean could braid hair? He's actually pretty good at it". Dean had finished the braid and was now resting his hands on her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing them.

Sam chuckled "I didn't know that, no. You feeling any better?"

"Yeah a little, let's see what food you got though". She stood up to open up the bag. Once they all had their food out in front of them, and [Y/N] had sat back between the two brothers, the movie night began.

***

[Y/N] had been staying in the bunker for five days when Dean knocked on her open door. She was sitting up on her bed reading through one of the library's many books on ghosts. She was feeling a lot better than she had been. She no longer felt like showering or getting out of bed were chores. She was eating proper meals with the boys every day, going out for walks with Sam, and even helped Dean clean Baby. She was starting to feel very content, and the Winchesters were starting to feel like a family to her.

"Hey, what you reading?"

[Y/N] closed the old book and held it up so Dean could see the cover. "I found this book on cases of ghosts from the 18th century, it's pretty interesting". She smiled at him.

"Well, speaking of ghosts, Sam thinks he's found one not too far from here. Please say no if you're not feeling up to it, we can call Garth to check it out, but if you're feeling well enough, fancy joining myself and Sam?"

[Y/N] nodded at him. "I think it's time to get back out there, though might leave the heavy lifting to you and Sam?"

"Of course, just come out and meet us in the library when you're ready"

"Dean?" [Y/N] called to him while he was turning to leave the room, he turned back around and caught her gaze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead". Dean walked over and sat on the end of her bed.

"I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get me. I was in a dark place and you saved me". Dean squeezed her leg comfortingly. "And I just wanted to ask, when do you want me to go back home?"

"Actually I was going to talk to you about that after the hunt. Sam and I talked it over and this room is yours. You can stay for as long as you like. If you want to split your time between your apartment and here that would be cool, or if you just wanna stay here, the bunker can be your home".

"Really? You wouldn't mind me being here?"

"Really". Dean leaned over and kissed [Y/N] on her forehead. When he leaned back he saw that her eyes were closed. There were no dark circles under them anymore, and she didn't look so gaunt either. She looked beautiful. Before he could change his mind, Dean titled his head slightly and pressed his lips to hers. [Y/N]'s eyes shot open in surprise, and she found Dean's were closed. She kissed him back and slid a hand up behind his neck. Dean deepened the kiss and grabbed her hip with one hand, his other still on her leg. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, letting him in. He pushed forward causing her to fall back onto the bed, and he crawled over on top of her without breaking the kiss. Their hands roamed each other's arms and sides before eventually they broke for air. Dean smiled down and at her and she smiled up at him.

"I would definitely like a girlfriend who was already in the hunting life".

The end

#dean x y/n #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #supernatural #dean winchester comfort #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #sam winchester #comfort #dean fluff

[max13l]

So, a Maxiel AU brainrot thing inspired by these specific versions of them from this and this, where Daniel is a rock singer who used to be very successful, but now he's 34 and his career has been dwindling. He's spiraling and can't write anything good anymore making his label desperate and having his long-time manager quit on him. His label decides to give him one more chance if he manages to put out an album by a specific deadline, and they also hire Max as Daniel's new manager who is tasked with getting him put together promising him a large amount of money in return. Oh, and Max needs the money badly because he is a struggling single dad.

Max is told Daniel has been struggling with drug use and that he sleeps around a lot and barely ever takes his job seriously anymore, so when Max meets him for the first time the last thing he expects is to instantly be crushing on him. I mean, Daniel is hot. His curls are messy and he looks like he hasn't shaved in months, but he's hot.

Daniel would realize Max is into him from the beginning because he's super bad at not being totally obvious about it. And, of course, he would be a bitch about it and try to use it to his advantage, being a massive tease and trying to get Max in trouble. Max tries his hardest to remain professional but his dick often betrays him, which Daniel loves to point out every single time. It never actually goes anywhere, but Max does take more cold showers than ever before.

For a while, Daniel would pretend he's only fucking with Max to get what he wants, but in reality, he's actually hardcore falling for him without even realizing it. And, suddenly he... starts having inspiration to write songs again?

They would get closer with time and banter a lot, with Max finding out Daniel likes country music and joking around that he should've just been a country singer, maybe he'd be less of a mess then.

Daniel also gets to meet Max's daughter, with Max being a single dad sometimes he doesn't have a choice but to ask to bring her along with him when he runs out of people to leave her with, much to his dismay as he would much rather do anything else, his daughter tending to not like new people much (and Daniel having maybe mentioned he doesn't like kids before). When she meets Daniel though, she ends up warming up to him much quicker than Max expects because she thinks he's funny. Daniel subconsciously fools around more and says ridiculous (kid-appropriate, mostly) stuff just to make her laugh. And getting to see Max being a dad is what makes Daniel realize he might really, really like him.

One time, something urgent comes up for Max and no one is available to look after his daughter, so he ends up having to leave her alone with Daniel. Daniel is pretty much scared shitless because he doesn't want to fuck up, but he has no clue what he's doing. Max reassures him it will be okay (as always Max makes Daniel braver) and this experience ends up being what ultimately shows Daniel just how much he actually wants to be with Max, and in a sense become a dad even though he's terrified. It also makes him want to get his shit together to show Max he could be a good dad too.

The first time Daniel looks after Max's daughter goes well enough somehow, so when something comes up again Daniel offers to help again. While they play, she falls and gets a little scratch on one of her knees and even though it's not actually a big deal and she gets over it quickly, Daniel totally freaks out. He calls Max the moment he sees a little blood, shaking and thinking he fucked everything up. Max thinks something serious happened so he rushes back only to find his daughter, with a barely noticeable knee scrape and a look of confusion on her face ("I just fell, why is he crying?"), trying to comfort a shaken up Daniel. Max puts her to bed and tells her everything is alright, before going to take care of Daniel. He ends up crying in Max's arms, telling him about his fears that he can't do anything right anymore and he only makes anything he touches worse, thinking he messed up real bad once again. Max soothes him by telling him how wonderful he is and that being scared isn't a bad thing, and that even trying to make the effort to change is already a show of Daniel's actual character. Max also tries to cheer him up by joking, "I asked you to take care of her but maybe I was wrong and she should be the one taking care of you." To which Daniel promises he will do better next time and Max reassures that he already did more than well enough.

When the next time actually comes around, Max finds Daniel asleep with his daughter in his arms and a bunch of papers filled with enough lyrics to fill an album next to them. His heart swells and he kisses both their foreheads before putting them all to bed. He also whispers to Daniel that he did so good and that he loves him.

#i'm not a writer by any means but i keep having brainrots so why not post them ig hope this is enjoyable #tw drug abuse #its only mentioned once but just in case #maxiel #my writing

[plussizewritersworld]

Y/N gently stroked the cow’s snout, completely lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t even realize someone was trying to speak to her, that was until she felt a rough grip on her shoulder.

“Jesus, can you ever pay attention?” It was Gally. Working in the barn was her only escape from reality of living in the glade, but somehow Gally always managed to ruin that for her.

“I’m sorry…is everything alright?” She asked him. He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“No, those damn chickens that you are responsible for got out again and are in our way of building the new camp.” Y/N just smiled and shook her head. She left the cow’s stall and made her way outside where she saw the chickens grazing on the ground. She quietly walked over and with no issues she was able to pick up the first chicken, then the second, and so on till they were returned back to their coop.

“They aren’t afraid of us so they are easy to round back up.” She told him closing the coop door.

“It doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t happen.” He barked at her. Ever since she arrived at the glade two months ago, Gally has had something against her, she wasn’t sure what she did and she is convinced it was nothing.

“Accidents happen Gally…it was taken care of.” It was as if she insulted him, she threw his hands in their air.

“Accidents can’t happen Y/N, accidents are what gets us killed out here!” His tone was harsh, he was shouting in her face. She tried to back away from him, but she was trapped by the chicken coop.

“I-I’m sorry…I-“

“Back off Gally.” It was Winston, she closed her eyes and sighed in relief when Gally moved away from her.

“Tell her to get it together or she goes out in the maze because she’s useless here she might as well be useless out there.” His words stung, she felt the tears form in her eyes. She looked down and felt the hot tears drip down her cheeks.

“Get the hell out of here Gally.” Winston told him.

“I’m serious Winston.” Gally warned.

“Excuse me.” Y/N said she pushed past the two boys, she ran to her bunk and laid down in her hammock.

Y/N sat beside Chuck and the new boy Thomas during dinner, avoiding any glares from Gally.

“I heard Stella will be giving birth soon.” Chuck said.

“Any day now.” Y/N spoke.

“I can’t wait, I’ve never seen a baby cow before-“

“That’s if she can keep it alive long enough.” She heard Gally mumble, abusing his building buddies to laugh. Y/N looked over at him, a smile of amusement on his face. She couldn’t take it anymore, she couldn’t keep letting him treat her this way and think it was okay. She stood up, she walked around, and he laughed, thinking she would just leave and let him win. Not this time. She took a full cup of water from the table discreetly and made her way towards him, from behind him she poured the cup over his head, the cold water falling onto him. He quickly shot up, she moved away and glared up at him.

“What the hell!” He shouted.

“I am done with you treating me like this.” She told him calmly.

“Then stop screwing up everything you do.”

“Last time I checked the chickens keep escaping from the coop that you and your goons built.” A few people in the room laughed, which Gally didn’t like.

“You want to act tough now?” He stepped closer to her and got in her face. “Don’t get scared now, it’s just getting good.”

“Enough, the two of you. Come with me now.” It was the voice of Gally.

Y/N walked behind Alby with her head down. She doesn’t like to cause issues, she also doesn’t like to bother Alby. He led them into the main cabin where they held meetings.

“Why are you two are constantly going at each other?“ Alby asked.

“Alby I am sorry for what I did-“

“Why are you apologizing to him? I am the one who has water all over them.” Gally said.

“I am not sorry for what I did to you…I am sorry for causing a scene. I am not apologizing for that.”

“You two need to learn to get along. We are building and sustaining a community, a community that needs to get along.” Alby said to them.

“Tell that to him.”

“I don’t need to get along with anyone to keep surviving. She is always doing something that messes with either my guys and I or someone else.”

“That’s not true.” She argued.

“Tell that to the crops we had to trash last week because your damn cow got loose.”

“Because of the loose hinge you put on her stall. Winston is the one who fixed it properly.”

“Now I can’t do my job right?” He was getting heated again and Alby stepped between the two.

“I’m just saying stop coming for me when you make mistakes too.”

“The only mistake I’ll make is not getting rid of you when I have the chance.”

“Enough Gally…go cool off.” Alby ordered him. Y/N remained silent, how was she supposed to react to that?

Days went by and Y/N kept to herself and work. She made sure nothing happened with the chickens, the livestock, and herself. She decided to work late today because she was avoiding Gally by any means and sometimes that meant late dinners. She sat with Stella who was laying down, she was close to giving birth and Y/N didn’t want to leave her side.

“Why aren’t they closing!?” She heard shouting, she got up and peeked out of the barn, she noticed the maze doors weren’t closed, normally at the time they were. Panic was flooding the Glade.

“I swear this is Greenie's fault.” She heard the voice of Gally, always finding someone to blame. “We need to get those doors closed.” Y/N was about to leave the barn till she heard the most terrifying screech.

Grievers.

She knew staying in the barn wasn’t a safe option for her or the livestock. She quietly walked into the chaos, avoiding being seen. She had to find a safe place to hide. Around her were cries for help, screaming from fear. She found herself at the meeting hall, she thought this could be a safe place till she heard snarling from behind her.

Her body froze. She slowly turned around. A Griever had his stinger up ready to impale her. It creeped closer and as it did, she would step back. It let out the worst growl that made her cover her ears, this was the end. She waited for the pain to start, for the stinger to stab her, but it never happened. She opened her eyes and saw Gally standing above the now dead creature, a large wooden steak in its head.

“Gally.” She spoke. He moved away from the Griever and towards her. Despite what the two have been going through, she didn’t care. She ran towards him and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.” She felt tears fall from her eyes. She wasn’t expecting him to return the hug, but he did. Within seconds she felt safe in his embrace.

“Let’s find the others.” He pulled away from her, clearing his throat, she nodded her head and followed him.

The night was long but eventually the sun rose and the Grievers retreated back into the maze. Y/N listened as a meeting was being commenced, many were dead, including their leader Alby. Gally was on a rampage, he was impossible to reason with. She listened as he wanted to send Thomas into the maze, convinced he was the reason for this happening. Newt couldn’t get a word in to try to calm anyone down.

“You know what…do what you guys want. That’s what will happen anyways.” Gally spoke.

“We can’t stay here anymore Gally. The doors won’t close anymore, it’s our chance to find a way out.” Thomas said.

“We know a way.” Minho added. “With numbers we can make it out there.”

“What numbers, we lost too many last night.” Gally argued.

“We shouldn’t fight about this.” Y/N spoke up.

“I agree, we need to vote.” Newt added.

“Go ahead and vote.” Gally left the meeting, Y/N quickly followed behind.

“What happened with the two of them last night?” Chuck asked.

“Gally…now isn’t the time to run off.” She grabbed his hand to stop him from walking any further.

“Go back Y/N. Last night didn’t make us friends.”

“I know…and that is fine but I mean it. We need to figure out what our next step is.” He snatched his hand away roughly.

“There is no “our” or “we”. Go back to them and just leave.”

“Not without you.” She choked, she never would admit it to herself but she always had feelings for Gally. Despite the way he treated her, but now, she could lose him and she couldn’t bare that.

“You don’t need me out there.”

“I do, I needed you last night and you were there. Any time something needed to be fixed in the barn you were right there or when the animals got loose. You are always there.”

“What are you going on about?“

“Are you that oblivious Gally?”

“No, I’m just sparing you from getting hurt.” He told her. “Go with them.” She shook her head no. If being with him meant staying in the Glade, then she would.

“You don’t want to stay here. You want to leave and I’m not going to be the reason you regret your decision.” He stepped closer to her.

“Then come with us. It’s not safe here anymore.” She argued. “We can see what is out there, beyond the Glade.”

“Y/N go with them.” He pushed. She gently took his hand in hers, searching for any reason why he would stay, was he scared? Too prideful? “When I said I would get rid of you…I didn’t mean it.” She smiled, knowing this was going to be a goodbye. She nodded her head, tears blurring her vision, he released her hand and wiped her tears. She leaned into his touch, not wanting to forget what it felt like.

“Just don’t…don’t disappear because when we find help I’ll make sure se come back-“

“I know, I know I couldn’t escape you that easily.” He joked, his laugh was stale and painful. “You should go.” She looked up at him, everything in her wanted to lean up and kiss him, but she knew that would make it harder to leave. He let her go and back away.

“I…I’ll be back okay.” He nodded his head, knowing that was going to a promise not kept.

Leaving the maze wasn’t easy, she never imagined she would be stepping foot into the death trap, but there she was, running for her life trying to keep up. It wasn’t till they reached an old building that they knew they were safe.

At least that is what they thought. Y/N held tightly onto Chuck’s, the building they entered was a lab, with the word WCKD all over it.

“What does WCKD mean?” Chuck asked.

“I don’t know but I have a feeling we will find out soon.” Thomas answered.

“No you won’t.” Everyone turned, Gally was standing there with a gun pointed at Thomas. Y/N gripped Chuck.

“Gally, how did you find us?” Newt asked. “And the gun?”

“Tell them the truth Thomas, I know who you really are and they have to know. Tell them how you work for WCKD.” Gally cocked the gun.

“He was stung.” Chuck whispered.

“I don’t know who WCKD is Gally.” Thomas reasoned. “I am just like you, I don’t have any memory before the Glade.”

“Gally put the gun down.” Y/N spoke.

“This is to protect all of you.” Within seconds disaster struck, Minho threw a spear at Gally, impaling him, the gun shot off and Y/N felt the grip in her loosen, Chuck fell to the ground. It was a blur to Y/N, Thomas was on the ground holding Chuck in his arms, blood covered the poor boy. She looked towards Gally, the gun laying beside him, his eyes barely open. She ran to him, kneeLing down. His body was covered with dark veins, the spear gorged into his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He cried. Blood dripped from his mouth. She gently stroked his cheek, wiping his tears like he did for her back at the Glade.

“It wasn’t you. It was the sting.” She assured him, he began to cough, she knew this wasn’t good for him.

“Is he okay?” He asked, she knew who he was referring to, she turned back to Thomas, he had placed Chuck on the ground, crying over the boy's limp body.

“Shh, it’s alright.” She gripped his hand. Blood everywhere. She was about to say something but the sound of the lab door swung open, she looked and a swarm of men in military armor barged the room, snatching the group up. She looked back at Gally, his eyes were closed. She tried to stay with him. She felt a set of arms wrap around her waist and pull her away from. She cried and lashed around trying to break free but it was useless. She took one more glance at the Gally before he was out of her sight.

There will be part two soon!

#the maze runner #tmr fandom #tmr x reader #gally maze runner #tmr gally #gally x reader

[zhounauts]

the countess doesn't give a shit ; l.heeseung x f!reader // y.jungwon x f!reader

a/n the long awaited part two that i promised like months ago…it’s finally here !! going to disappear again after this , but i gotta work on my other stories. ..

warnings: cursing, not proof read

part one

HEESEUNG SCOFFS, AND THEN HE BURSTS OUT LAUGHING “you don’t care? i find that out to believe y/n. were you not the one who was most openly and actively against sora? were you not the one constantly refusing all her invitations before? why the change of heart now?” unfortunately for heeseung you had stopped listening ten words ago, and you were now snacking on fruit gummies your overworked chef had made you.

“pardon me, your highness could you repeat that?” you ask, the gummy dissolving in your mouth. you hear rina stumble into faye in the background. heeseung narrows his eyes as you chew on another gummy.

“what exactly are you plotting now, y/n?” he seethes.

“what i’m going to eat for dinner?” you respond with full seriousness. heeseung gives you an incredulous look.

“MY LADY!”

“i know you’re plotting something. you’re going to this party to humiliate sora am i right? and right now you’re going to act all innocent and uninterested so i will start to—”

“wow you’re a really big overthinker, anyone ever told you that?” you ask, “you’re really mistake your highness. i’m not plotting anything and don’t care about you and sora. you guys can go make out and get married for all i care,”

“i can’t deal with you any longer,” heeseung mutters, “if i hear one word about you acting up at the tea party i will not be afraid to punish you,”

“m’kay,” you answer, turning around, “rina, faye lets finished getting ready,”

“right away m’lady!” faye exclaims, as heeseung makes his way out of your room. you can’t help the anger that boils through you before you take one last glance.

“countess! i’m so glad that you are here,” sora says, bowing. you give her a polite smile and nod.

“thank you for your invite saintess,”

“of course!” she exclaims happily, “i hope the tea and snacks are all to your liking, i planned everything carefully when i caught notice your attendance. i was scared what i originally planned would not be to your delicate taste. please enjoy the party,”

“yes of course,” you answer, smiling and eye twitching. you didn’t have any energy to deal with her passive, fake niceness.

as soon as she turns around your face goes blank with boredom. you quite literally STILL did not know all the nefarious, devious acts the original countess had committed, but by the way everyone avoided you it was pretty obvious that what you did was. . .well nefarious and devious?

“god, i wish i could just impale myself and go back home already. . .” you mutter underneath your breath.

“i’ll impale you right now then, don’t worry,” an ominous voice hisses.

“what the f-”

“you thought you got rid of me?!”

“who are you?,” you ask, before you pause and sigh, “oh, crazy writer bitch,”

“what did you just call me!? i’ll eliminate you! eliminate!” she screeches.

“yeah okay do that,” you answer, rolling your eyes.

“while you had fun dilly dallying around ruining MY story” she starts, “hey where the fuck are you going?!”

“to get food,” you answer, walking away from the author and towards the table of pastries.

“get back here!” the author huffs angrily, hurriedly following after you.

“will you leave already? i’ll call the guards,”

“you think you can boss me around!? this is my story”

“GUARDS!” you scream, “oh no! i’m uhm. . .being harassed! nooooooooo boohoo,” you watch as the knights from the door run towards you, quickly grabbing the author.

“YOU BITCH! YOU CAN’T TAKE ME AWAY AGAIN! UNHAND ME YOU UNIMPORTANT SIDE NPC CHARACTERS!” you can only watch in amusement as the author screams. your amusement is VERY much cut short however when she for some reason has a burst of ungodly strength and tackles you.

“HOLY—”

“ruin the story i dare you! just you wait, there will be consequences!” she hisses, a flash of craziness in her eyes “the story has to be completed or else—”

“get her off the countess!” a guard calls, and with that the author’s easily hauled off you, as you stare at her in confusion.

“wait! wait! finish your—” but it’s too late, as the guards drag her away from the party and guards surround you, asking you questions. you don’t listen to anything they say, as you furrow your brows, trying to decipher the author’s message.

after the rabid authors attack, you had excused yourself from the party and headed to the courtyard to collect your thoughts. you thought the author was just crazy and obsessive about the story being completed the way she wrote it, but with her outburst you could tell there was something deeper.

“but what. . .?” you mutter. you sigh, burying your face into your arms. even though in this life you were rich and had privileges you used to wish for, it didn’t take away from the fact that you missed your family, your friends, and heck even your math teacher. it was lonely in this world, especially with the vendetta everyone had against you because of sora and heeseung. heeseung. the name ignites a rage that you had been supressing and you can’t help but rip up a patch of grass and yeet it.

“that stupid prince! who the hell does he think he is? bursting into my room accusing me of so much shit even though its been months since i’ve done anything! i hope he falls off his fucking stupid ass horse and onto his—” your tirade’s cut off by a laugh and you whip your head around at an ungodly speed. “who’s there?”

“no, no, keep going! this is really funny to listen to,” the voice answers, “I don’t think i’ve ever heard anyone who hated his royal highness, handsome and kind prince heeseung,”

“kind?” you scoff, “he can’t seem to leave me alone,”

“you are countess y/n, no?”

“that’s me, who are you?”

“let’s not worry about that,” the person answers.

“what are you, a wanted criminal?”

“. . .”

“you are!?” you ask excited.

“what??? no! of course not i was just joking!” the voice hastily answers before muttering, “why would you even be excited about that. . .” theres comfortable silence between the two of you as you rebury yourself in your arms. “the prince treats you badly?”

“yes!” you start, “no, well i don’t— yeah. i guess so. i get it, i did stuff back then to sora his little babe or whatever but the past five months, i’ve been leaving him alone! i know that still won’t make up for everything, but he can’t even just. . .treat me atleast slightly politely? it’s frustrating, i have no one to talk to except for my maids and chef mingyu, and i just want to go home,”

“where is home?” the voice asks.

“. . .i don’t know,” you answer truthfully. home was your room back in your own house, with your dad bothering you to practice piano, your mom hovering around your room while you study, and your brother randomly appearing every two hours to remind you of his existence. home was with your friends in school, giggling obnoxiously, changing routes to chase guys, and meeting up at set times in the bathrooms. home certainly wasn’t countess yue’s parents, and it definitely was not this castle.

“well people build their own homes all the time,” the voice says, “if they can you can to,”. you laugh.

“are you some wise old man?”

“uh- excuse me!? i’m 19!” you laugh again.

“no, really, who are you?” the voice hesitates.

“. . . yang jungwon,”

“thanks jungwon,” you hum, “when can i see you again?”

“i’d get my ass beat, i’m not supposed to be here” he answers, “i’m a mage at the research tower,”

“i didn’t ask that,” you reply teasingly.

“well. . .i guess i could shoot you a message orb. . .” he grumbles. you giggle, truly happy for the first time in awhile.

“i’ll be waiting,"

taglist: @k-films , @soobincantswim

#k-films #heeseung x reader #✰✰✰ zhounauts #jungwon x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung #enhypen royalty au #prince!heeseung #prince!au #enhypen imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung imagines #enha x reader #enhypen #enha fluff #jungwon #sunghoon #engene #enha #enha fanfic #heeseung fic #enhypen fic #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #enha x y/n #enha x you #heeseung oneshots #jungwon x you