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vivwritesfics · 3 months

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(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Nine - Cough Cough I'm Sick

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

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(idk who sorts out the media stuff so i just said marketing manager)

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Here's the thing, it was exactly what it looked like. Max let out a laugh as he looked at the papaya drivers panicked. "Relax," he said quickly and walked out of the driver's room. "I'll meet you both outside."

Y/N and Lando looked at each other as Max shut the door. "Fuck," she whispered as she pulled her clothes back onto her body. She swapped Landos shirt for her own.

Wordlessly, Y/N left his drivers room. She pushed past Max and sped walked out of the track. She was so fucking stupid - this was why they had those rules in the first place!

And now that Max knew, what was going to happen?

She didn't sleep that night, anxiety overtaking her. For the first time of the grand prix weekend, Y/N checked her phone. She went onto her private account, went to the for you page (for the memes) and was immediately flooded with pictures of her in Landos hoodie. Fuck, that was right. She was wearing Landos hoodie.

She didn't know if Lando went to the club with Max, but she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around her pillow and tried to get some sleep.

***

They'd been home for two days and they hadn't slept together. It was unusual, but Lando couldn't blame her, especially after what had happened in Spain.

He missed her. Which, this time just a few months ago, would have felt impossible. But he really did miss her, everything about her.

She didn't entirely avoid him, but it felt like she didn't want him anymore. They hadn't properly spoken since the grand prix, almost like they weren't even friends anymore.

Lando kept himself busy. He gamed and streamed a lot, rarely giving himself time to think about the little hole in his heart.

It was an overreaction, Y/N knew. But she was terrified of the consequences that they'd inevitably get. So far, nothing had happened. But that didn't mean it wasn't coming.

The next week was the Canadian grand prix. For every grand prix since they began living together, Y/N and Lando had travelled together. One of them would usually drive to the grand prix, taking it in turns.

This time, though, Y/N travelled alone. She made her own way to the grand prix, over thinking and then sleeping on the flight.

Lando hadn't realised she'd left. He knocked on her bedroom and pushed it open. "Y/N?" He called, but she wasn't there, already on her way to Canada.

Obviously, Y/N arrived before him. She’d slept on the flight, sure, but she still made her way to her bedroom for a nap. Exhaustion gripped her as she got under the blankets and closed her eyes, still in her travelling clothes.

When Y/N woke up, there was insistent knocking on her hotel room door. “Fine, alright!” She shouted, her voice croaky. Her throat killed as she pulled open the door and came face to face with the McLaren marketing manager. “Hey,” Y/N said, rubbing at her eyes.

“You’re meant to be doing media things with Lando,” the marketing manager said quickly.

“Fuck,” she whispered under her breath and checked the time on her phone. Had she really been asleep for that long? “Okay, I’ll get dressed.”

She shut the door and got changed. What she would have loved to do was take a shower, but with the way the marketing manager was talking, she definitely didn’t have time.

As soon as she was dressed, Y/N followed the marketing manager down to the lobby of the hotel. Outside there was a car waiting for her. She climbed into the back seat and pressed her head against the cool window as they drove towards the track.

Somehow, she fell asleep in the car once again. She woke up to somebody shaking her shoulder, and was quick to follow them into the McLaren hospitality unit. Her had swam as she walked, but she ignored it; she had a job to do.

It was the first time she had seen Lando since she left their apartment. “Hey,” she said through a croaky voice as she sat in the seat beside him.

“Are you okay?” Asked Lando, his arm resting on the sofa behind her.

Y/N quickly moved it. She nodded her head and looked at the camera in front of them as a member of staff past her and Lando question cards.

***

She was sick. That was clear to anyone as she threw up into her bathroom. But to her, it was just stress. She’d had a taste of her first win and she wanted more. Th thought of trying to keep being consistent was making her so stressed that she was coming across sick.

She threw up before qualifying. How she made it all the way to Q3, she didn’t know, but she struggled to qualify in the top five. As soon as qualifying was done, Y/N rushed back to the hotel room while the team at McLaren took care of the media for her. She managed to avoid fans as she was driven back to the hotel.

As soon as she was in her room as she asleep on her bed, still wearing the McLaren shirts and shorts that she had left the circuit in. She didn’t even climb under the covers before falling asleep, her head just about on the pillow.

Again, she woke up to somebody knocking at her door. Again, she reluctantly stood up and pulled open the door.

Only this time, it was Lando on the other side of the door. “Shit,” he whispered as he looked at her. “You look…”

“Like shit,” Y/N answered for him.

“Are you okay?” Lando asked again and Y/N nodded, leaning her forehead against the wood of the door frame. But Lando clearly didn’t believe her. He stared at her, raising his eyebrows, waiting for her to take it back, to tell him that she was feeling as terrible as she looked.

Still, she couldn’t admit it. Lando tried to walk past her, to get into her room, but she stood in his way. “What do you want, Lando?”

“I want you to admit that you’re sick and let me take care of you.”

“I don’t want you to take care of me,” she said, somewhat stubbornly.

So, Lando grabbed a hold of her shoulders and forced his way into her room. He sat the door behind him and sat her on the bed. “Talk to me,” he said, kicking off his shoes and laying back against her pillows.

“About what?” She spat back, crossing her arms as she looked out of the window.

“About why you’re not talking to me.”

She visibly deflated. Fuck, she had missed him, but their last time had scared her enough to keep her away. No, he was just asking to get into her head before the race.

“Max hasn’t told anybody, you know,” he said, leaning forward and placing his large hand on her shoulder. “He’s not going to.”

Y/N twitched her head towards him, but she didn’t say anything.

“We could go back to the way we were, you know,” Lando continued. “I… I miss you and I want to go to how we were.”

She let out a sob and wiped beneath her eyes. She missed it too. Missed him. “I-“ but she couldn’t say more than that.

Wordlessly she crawled towards him. she laid down beside him, placing her head on his chest. “Lando, we can’t tonight,” she said.

“I know,” he responded with a nod. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not sick!” She insisted.

“You’re sick.”

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Steve doesn’t notice the answering machine for several weeks.

His time is split between the hospital and donating food and clothes; and when he’s not doing that, he’s helping put up missing posters for people’s loved ones.

It’s only when both Max and Eddie are discharged that he has a moment to even catch his breath—when, half-dozing on his feet, waiting for a microwave ready meal to heat up, he notices the blinking red light in the hallway.

He feels like he’s still in a dream when he presses ‘play’, hears his mother’s voice. There’s people talking in the background, the echoing, constant chatter of a hotel lobby. She’s laughing at something someone must have said before the answering machine kicked in.

She sounds… happy.

“Steve? Steve?” The rustle of the receiver getting briefly pressed to her blouse, a muffled, “Just a minute, hon, he might still pick up.” Then, clearer: “No, you must be out. All right, Steve, it was just to let you know that we’ll be home a little sooner than we—yes, I’m telling him, what do you think I’m doing?”

Steve’s thoroughly grateful that he’s listening to a message, and no response is required—can only stand there, jaw slack, at just how light his mother’s voice is.

“A couple of work things fell through,” she continues with a breeziness that probably means several major ‘things’ went disastrously wrong, work related or otherwise. But it doesn’t sound like she cares all that much; if anything, she sounds excited.

“So I thought we could—well, I don’t know how late we’ll be, but if you’re not too hungry, we could just order some pizza, lazy dinner? Plain cheese for you, right?” The distant ring of a bell on a counter. “Steve, darling, I know we haven’t been—” She cuts herself off with a sigh that’s gone too quickly for Steve to parse.

He hasn’t ordered a plain cheese pizza since he was 12 years old. But she’s trying, he thinks. She’s trying.

“Oh, we’re just checking out. What? No, I thought you had that bag. Oh, well, just—sorry, Steve, see you tonight. Love y—”

The message ends.

In a daze, Steve replays it once, twice—it’s on the third re-listen that he hears the mechanical voice intone what date the message was left.

See you tonight.

He inhales sharply just as the microwave beeps, and then he’s out the door, leaving the food to congeal.

He knows the route they would have taken. Plays it backwards in his head as he drives. Can see them in his mind’s eye taking the exit that leads into Hawkins—his mom berating his dad for not using his turn signal.

He finds the road. Stops. Gets out and presses his hand to the tarmac. He can feel it under his palm, like a scar.

The gates spread, at the end.

There’s no proof, nothing he can point to and say there, that’s what happened to them. Not a trace.

But he knows.

He knows.

“Okay, what’s up?” Eddie asks him three days later.

It’s almost funny, how little things have changed. Steve keeps waiting for a knock at the door, a just kidding! There’s no harried phone calls from their work, so they must have taken extended leave or—he doesn’t know.

He’s never going to know.

“Nothing,” Steve shrugs. “Just thinking if the kids want popcorn now or later.”

Eddie’s suspicion melts away with a snort; it’s too easy. “Stupid question—the answer is always now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Second cupboard on your left, Munson, knock yourself out.”

“What am I, the maid?” But Eddie’s already reaching for the popcorn, opening the microwave door with a clunk, and then there’s an abrupt silence.

Steve realises why a second too late. “Shit, I—sorry, lemme just—”

He picks up the plastic tray full of mouldy pasta and throws it in the trash—feels a prickle of shame as he does so.

It’s stupid that this is the thing that makes his breathing catch. So fucking—senseless.

“Steve,” Eddie says haltingly, like he somehow knows this isn’t just about being absent-minded.

“Don’t,” Steve says.

He knows that’s practically a signed confession already. But Eddie nods and even cleans the damn microwave without a word of complaint. Because the popcorn still needs to be done, and the kids are waiting, and they’re pretending, Steve thinks.

They’re all just pretending.

He loses himself in washing up, makes the water run hot and doesn’t wear gloves, lets his skin scald. They’d all ordered pizza, and Steve had hidden every slice he’d taken, torn them all up and stuffed them into a napkin.

He stops when he comes to a large plate with a floral trim.

Would she have picked this one? he wonders. The pizza would’ve looked pretty, served up on that.

And then, as quickly as that thought came, another takes its place. How dare she? How dare she think that a fucking lazy dinner would fix everything? Did she think he’d just forgive her, forgive them both, just like that?

But she never got the chance. He’ll never get the chance to—

A sharp, stabbing pain. Steve turns off the faucet automatically, sees that the plate has smashed in the sink. A shard of china in his palm.

Eddie’s voice echoes in the hallway. “Um, I called Wheeler? Uh, Nancy. She—she took them all home.”

“Cool,” Steve says, voice tight.

He knows that Eddie has entered the kitchen when he hears a shocked hiss. “Dude, what the fuck? You’re bleeding, wait there, just—”

It’s not a deep cut, Steve thinks numbly. He doesn’t know why Eddie is worried. But he lets him fuss, lets him gently pry the remnants of the plate away, lets him wrap a bandage tightly.

“Hey,” Eddie says. His voice is soft. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, ‘kay?”

Steve can’t look at him. Clenches his jaw.

“We will, you hear me, Harrington? I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t fix—” he gets out before his throat closes up, and when he glances back, Eddie’s eyes are wide and fearful.

“What?” he says sharply, and he looks almost nauseous, like he suspects he’s about to be told that the monsters are back, that they have never even left. “What the fuck do you mean? You’ve got to tell me, man, just—”

Steve makes an anguished noise that feels like it comes from somewhere in his chest, and Eddie freezes. He considers Steve for a long moment.

“Okay,” he says, a wary placation. “Can you… um. Can you show me instead?”

Steve blinks. He flexes his hand, uncaring of the cut, and jerks his head to the hallway.

Eddie stares. Frowns. Then leaves.

He figures it out, of course he does. Steve just stands there, hears the click of the answering machine. He closes his eyes.

This is all that’s left; these are his scraps. A sigh he’ll never understand. An aborted, “I love you.” It had never come easily to her, but it had left her freely then.

Why?

A hand on his shoulder. Steve opens his eyes.

Eddie looks stricken. “Steve,” he whispers, then stops like he doesn’t have the words.

Steve can’t blame him. Neither does he.

“I didn’t—I didn’t know,” Eddie says. “Steve, I didn’t—”

“They were coming home,” Steve says stupidly, feels a bit like he’s twelve years old. “They were—Eddie. They were gonna come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, and it leaves him all in one breath. “Oh, Steve. C’mere.”

Steve falls against him, muffles something that’s half a cry, half a scream against his shoulder—and mourns the loss of a conversation he will never have.

#steve and his parents #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington’s parents #steve and his mom #steve harrington’s mom #steddie

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nyx-is-missing · 4 months

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hello! Can you write a Clarisse La Rue x reader where they met before Clarisse got sent to camp halfblood when they were little and were best friends then Clarisse left for camp with no explanation then years later reader goes to camp and sees Clarisse for the first time in years and it’s kinda awkward but cute

thanks :)

This is kinda long sooorrry, to help, the part where she gets to camp (kinda) will be in green

Girls on film 📷

Clarrise la rue x fem!reader

Warnings and explanations: bad words (take the kids out of the living room she swears) gender is specified cause it was written as wlw, but it doenst actually makes a diference, fluff, like two sentences, there is a kiss in the picture but they dont actually kiss sorry.

Unspecified parent gender for both sides so yall can pick wichever

Trying not to kill myself.

That was what i was doing 15 hours ago, just as any normal teenagers living (or as i prefer saying fighting for the soul to stay on the body) during finals week.

In my room there was nothing but piles and piles of normal work, piles for extra credit, piles of old quizzes to try to get me prepared for the new ones and a dumb incomplete project for photography class that was due tomorrow.

Okay ill admit, i had a month to make that, and all i needed to do was shoot pictures, but that was the problem, i prefer taking pictures of people, their emotions, whatever they might be, just never ceases to amaze me.

And my dumb project made take pictures of....landscapes.

Not too bad, if i had any actual real talent for that type of photography, but i dont, every picture gets ruined somehow, its the lightning, the lack of it, my camera falls, gets full of dirt and i get so mad that i just give up.

That whole speach was necessary for me to explain what i was doing 14 hours ago, and that would explain what i was doing 5 minutes ago.

14 hours ago i decided to shoot the photos, i could try many times before it got dark, and if o was lucky enough i wouldnt go insane before the golden hour, and could actually get some nice pictures.

I grabbed my totte bag taking with me only the necessary, camera stuff, the camera, some snacks and my notebook to upload the pictures before i went mad.

13 hours ago i was running to save my life.

And do you know that moment went you go through so much your mind decides to erase it?

That happened, now, what i do remember, i was sitting in a bench by a calm road not too far from the town, i had got some actually good pictures, some of me, some of the trees, some of a butterfly, maybe three cars had passed by since i was there, driving slowly, always saying hi and doing a thumbs up, normal, friendly people from the town.

And then i heard a noise that shook the trees.

I remember seeing something, but never what, i remember running to home as fast as i could, feeling my heartbeats in my neck, i remember the noise, but the people in the streets looked at me like there was nothing behind me and i went crazy

I remember getting home, having a desperate talk with my parent while they got my suiticase ready, and i dont remember a single word.

I remember a funny looking guy my age that got to my house, with goat legs and a more desperate look, and i remember one last hug before i left.

And thats all, aside from a hell of a lot of running nobody cares.

Aparently i passed out from shock or exaustion because i woke up in a unknown place, at night, in a hospital bed, with no actual doctors other than 15 year olds teenagers.

And a horseman standing in the corner, with quite a intelectual look actually.

And let me tell you guys that after the talk we had, if somebody told me i would marry queen Elizabeth within 4 days, i would just belived it.

Because nothing ever in my life would ACTUALLY beat up the level of crazyness of finding out i DO have another parent, they are just, A FUCKING GOD. GREEK. GODS. AH.

Then, after telling me my whole life was in fact, a big fat lie, the horseman... left.

Telling me i should sleep in the infirmary this night for precaution and that he was going to get me to a cabin tomorrow.

Like that was the most normal thing to ever happen to a human, he said goodnight and left.

While i sat there just trying to...basically form a sentence that wasnt "for fucks sake what the fuck was that"

I would have loved to say that i did slept that night, dreaming about glory and greek myths but that did not happened, at all.

I walked around the infirmary for hours, opening every cabinet and trying to make my mind to something, i searched for my stuff, and thankfully found my camera, with some pictures i hadnt noticed i had taken, one specific had a blurred thing in the forest.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared i got dressed, and decided that, in order to prove to myself (and probably to the mental hospital afterwards) i was not insane, i needed proof that i was actually living, actually there, being a demigodess, thats what they called.

Very few people were up already, and i did received some weird looks, it was clear nobody knew me, that was fine, i didnt knew anybody either.

I walked around taking some pictures, sometimes getting lost, but everything amazed me, the forest, the cabins, the stables, i found the entrance to a beach too, and then i got to the training area, aparently, i stayed far away, god forbid i woke up from this nightmare with a spear in my head, oh no, that would be bad.

Openning my camera i zoomed in the people, my speciality, it was sweet, seeing them trully smile, and not pretend for the picture, it was a genuine feeling the camera would keep forever, i zoomed around other peoples faces, but my camera focused on a face i could never forget, and she looked back at me, and realized i was there, but not that i was me, because she came towards me with a angry look.

Ill admit, the look scared me as hell, so much i tried to pretend i was never taking pictures of her, i slightly changed the angle and kept my face hidden behind the camera.

Do i need to say that did not fucking worked? No? Thank you.

"Who the fuck do you think you are taking random pictures of pe-"

She yanked my camera off of me mid sentence and stopped completely, looking like she had seen a ghost for some seconds.

"(Y/n)?"

"Clari?"

"How- what are you doing here!?"

She asked, with a worried look, still kind of confused, she did this look since we were little girls, and for a moment i had a big deja vu.

Two little girls running around, playing all day, telling each other secrets and stories, running to hug each other eveytime they were close, i still saw that girl in her eyes, but by her previous look, she did not.

"What am i doing here? What are YOU doing here? One day you dissapear without a trace, and your family said you went to a new school even though it was the summer, and now i find you sparring with a spear? You are that too? A demigoddes, i mean?"

I spoke fast, nervous, as if my time in the world with her would end just as it did once.

Instead of responding me right away, clarisse did something that maybe would scare every single soul she knew in the past years.

She hugged me. Hard.

Breathing me in, and not letting me go exactly as you would expect of someone who hasnt seen me in years.

"I couldnt tell you anything... it wouldnt be safe...im sorry, i missed my friend... i missed you."

I just looked at her for some seconds, and then hugged her again, this time i was the one making it extra tight, i was the one going insane by the reconforting smell of her shampoo, praying that she couldnt feel my heartbeats against her chest, and how strong they were.

"Just.. dont leave me again okay? And ill forgive you, i promisse"

#fanfic #lesbian #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #pjo #clarisse la rue

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wosoamazing · 14 days

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14:00

Warnings: Death, CPR, car accident, blood, head injury, stud’s causing blood, match abandoned, panic attack?, ankle injury, vomit(barely, bile), badly translated Spanish - google translated (has english though too).

A/N: Part 2? If yes Angsty or Fluffy?? Or both??

One minute you were walking down the street with your best friend, the next minute you were on call with 112, about to start CPR on your best friend. Every minute that went by she slipped further and further away. The women who hit her. The women who didn’t even know her was breaking down. Her continuous screams of “I’m sorry” pierced your ears over and over. This women, a women who didn’t even know her was allowed to break down but you couldn't. You had to fight back the tears that brimmed your eyes. You had to stay strong. Watch how her chest caved inward with every compression. Watch as the colour faded away from her body slowly, as blood spilled out of her. Watch as her pupils dilated further. Watch as her chest caved in slightly less with every compression and feel how your arms burnt more with every compression, your breath becoming more ragged with every minute, becoming increasingly aware of your heart that pounded in your chest. A wave of relief should’ve washed over you as you heard the sirens but it didn’t, instead you steadily became increasingly aware of the severity of the situation you we’re in.

“Señorita, ¿puede dar un paso atrás? Nos haremos cargo.(Miss, can you step back, we will take over.)” You didn't even look at him, not even a glance, your mind was laser focused, nothing else could get in. You had to keep going. You couldn't stop. She couldn't die. A hand was placed on your shoulder and it pulled you back, the paramedics immediately resumed CPR, you knelt there, trembling, tears threatening to leave your eyes, but you didn’t let them win.

“¿Puedo comprobarte? (Can I check you out?)” A voice said as they placed a hand on your back, you flinched “No, no, estoy bien, estoy bien (No, no I’m fine, I’m fine)” you reassured yourself. Because you were fine, you weren’t the one dying on the pavement.

----

“Ella ha estado codificando durante una hora, llámalo (She’s been coding for an hour, call it)” “Hora de la muerte 14:00 (Time of death 14:00)” you turned around, walked away, not noticing some of your teammates standing there, they all expected you to break but you didn’t. 14:00 signalled your best friend’s time of death, it also signalled the death of your ability to feel any emotion, you walked straight out of the hospital and back home, like a robot, monotone, you continued to just go through the daily motions of life for weeks, somehow not feeling any emotion. Until Alexia decided to try and get through to you one day.

“Y/N! aquí ahora(here now),” up until this point she was letting you go, when you didn't respond when you ignored her, but she wasn’t letting you go this time.

“Why are you training?” she bluntly said “What do you mean?” you snapped knowing very well what she meant, ever since that day your ankle had been hurting, but you had managed to hide it, until today, you had a slight limp, but you hoped no one noticed.

“Your ankle is hurt.” “No, it's not, I’m fine.” “Y/N,” “I’m fucking fine Alexia, what don’t you understand about that, estoy bien, is that better, do you understand now, can't you just leave me alone, that's all anyone has been doing for weeks.” Alexia was hurt, you had insinuated she was dump, but she wasn't going to continue pushing. she knew you didn't like talking about your emotions, they all did, but your last words repeated over in her head, was leaving you alone doing more harm than good, did you feel like you couldn't show emotion. She didn't know but she had just seen some sort of emotion from you, in your words and eyes, you had been aggressive and defensive, but your last words made her feel you were one trigger, one thing away from letting it all out.

____

It was only a week later when you were forced to show real and raw emotions again, there was a corner, and instead of Hannah Hampton’s glove hitting the ball she punched Lucy straight in the temple, causing the older women to fall to the ground with a thud, laying there lifeless, before she took studs to the shoulder as one of the Chelsea players stumbled backwards. She laid there lifeless blood pouring out of her, she couldn’t die, not this way, not the same way, your vision glazed over as the image of Lucy turned into your best friend, the sudden present of emotions choked you, the cries of the women met your ears again, the sirens, the paramedics, suddenly you couldn’t breath you had to get out of there, you ran, quickly, and found yourself hiding under a bench in the corner of the locker room, your were curled up as physically small as you could get, tears flooded out your eyes as you rocked, your hands squeezing the life from your legs, in an attempt to try and stay grounded.

Alexia had followed you, but she couldn't bring herself to moved further into the room, she just stood in the doorway not knowing what to do.

Ingrid came up behind her, informed her captain the game was abandoned, before the Norwegian women moved towards you and Alexia left, only to be greeted with all of her teammates standing in the hall, she was unsure of what to do, ever thankful that Emma offered they share the Chelsea showers, as quickly as possible your teammates came in collected all their things and quickly left, leaving just you and Ingrid in the room, the women had been trying to coax you out of your head and at least slightly back with her words, trying not to startle you, but it wasn’t working, she had no option but to place a very soft hand on your arm, which caused you to jump in sheer panic, you only ever so slightly opened a gap between your leg and arm to see who it was, but it was enough for Ingrid to see how much of a state you were in, your eyes wide open, pupils dilated in fear, tears streaming down your face.

Once you realised it was Ingrid, someone safe, someone soft, you immediately launched yourself at her, before yet again curling into the smallest ball you could in her lap, clutching at her jersey, which was quickly soaked from your tears, she held onto you tight, placing her chin on top of your head, rocking you softly as you continued to sob, as your body shook, as you were falling apart in her arms, and she was just glad someone was there when you did fall apart, her biggest fear the whole time had been what if someone wasn't there when you broke, when your heart cracked open, when the temporary tape that kept your heart together broke, but here she was, the tape had broken, causing your heart to shatter, and Ingrid was there to hold you. At some stage Mapi had come in, and sat next to Ingrid, she placed a cautious hand on your back and left it there, not moving it.

---

Your mouth started to fill with saliva, and your body rolled forward before you were met with a sour fluid in your mouth, Ingrid quickly moved a sick bag up to your mouth, and you spat out the bile before taking a small sip of water and resuming your tight ball, your eyes were still streaming, although your body had stopped shaking as much as it was. The two women resumed, their positions of just sitting there, in silence, with you, both knowing you would talk about it with time, both knowing you didn't want to be pushed, and you didn't want someone telling you it was okay, or that it would be okay because no one in life actually knew whether it would be okay or not. So they sat there with you, giving you the physical comfort and reassurance you needed, having no intention of moving until you wanted to.

---

“Go,” you said so quietly the two women barely registered it, you didn't know how long it had been, but you felt okay now, you felt ready to go and talk about it.

“Sure, you’re going to stay with us though okay,” you didn't say anything, just nodded, you were thankful you didn't have to go home to your cold apartment which was once filled with warmth from your best friend, the apartment that was once filled with laughter, once filled with joy. Ingrid lifted you up with her, and as you stood your ankle was throbbing, but it had been for the past week, what was different, however it was different when you took your first step towards the exit, a simple step caused so much pain, from one simple step your knee buckled under you as a shooting pain rose up your leg. Ingrid quickly wrapped a hand around your waist, steadying you.

“I-Ing, um, c-could we, p-pos-posibly g-go t-to the, the physios f-first?” you softly stuttered, she looked at you slightly bewilder that you had opened up so quickly about your ankle that everyone knew was hurt, the one that was clearly hurt the day Alexia called you out for it and you insisted you were fine, even though it was evident you weren't, both of them were concerned that it had somehow gotten worse in the past hour both just standing there not knowing what to do, “my-my an-ankle,” she nodded, and Mapi quickly moved ahead of you both to see if the Chelsea physios were still there and whether they could look at you or not.

“Our physios aren’t here, but the Chelsea physios are going to take care of you,” they looked over you, before getting an x-ray. “It's broken, but we are worried about ligament damage since it looks to be a stress fracture, she is going to need to get scans at the hospital,” your body stiffened at his words, as your eyes widen and you started trembling “no-no-no hospital,” you pleaded, “Can’t you just put her in a boot and give her crutches, other than possible surgery what else would they do different if it was ligaments too.” Ingrid tried to reason with them, “We can but there is a possibility that if we don’t do the scan on her ankle today she could have to have a bigger surgery and longer recovery, or will be in pain every time she plays forever” “Qué más va a hacer una semana o dos? ya ha pasado un mes” (What more is a week or two going to do. It has already been a month)

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca women #ingrid engen x reader

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aliensupastar · 1 year

Text

not wrong, but not right

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Carmy Berzatto/GN!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: You do your best to keep your head down at your job. When that doesn't work, Carmy's there for you anyways.

Part II Part III

Warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, depiction of an eating disorder, vent fic, fainting, hospitals, slightly one-sided romantic feelings?

A/N: PLEASE mind the warnings! as mentioned, this is a vent fic with a reader that has an eating disorder. mostly made for my own comfort/self-indulgence, but i thought i’d post it anyways. title inspired by "ode to the mets" by the strokes, gif by heardchef <3

All things considered, your job could be worse. Honestly, you feel like you lucked out a bit, your hiring process being expedited due to Marcus being the one to recommend you to his boss, given that they needed new workers for their newly opened restaurant — you knew it was a good idea to stay in touch with that guy after high school.

Working front-of-house with Richie could get overwhelming, to say the least. Dealing with him your first few weeks took a lot of adjustment, and a lot of holding back from calling him every foul name in the book. But it all smoothened out eventually. Your coworkers were nice, the pay was decent, the train ride was short. And your boss… well, it didn’t hurt that your boss was nice to look at.

You’re a little embarrassed by it. You spend a little too much time looking at him when you’re supposed to be focused on your prep, and you always stop by the back office to say goodnight before you clock out, but you think you’ve kept it subtle enough to go unnoticed. You’ve gotten a little too good at that, going unnoticed.

“Need me to do anything else before I head out?” You lean against the doorway of the tiny office as you say it, backpack already on and your jacket draped over your arms. Carmy’s sitting in his desk chair, bent over some paperwork and looking a little surprised at your question.

“Uh, no, we’re good here. But if you wanna stick around for a bit, Syd and I are makin’ something out of the food we were gonna have to throw out tonight, you could take some of it home with you. Save time on dinner.” He offers with a small smile. You hate the temptation that immediately springs up in you, because you want so badly to take him up on it. The smell of food in the kitchen is always mouthwatering, and when Carmy’s making dishes instead of being on expo, it somehow smells even better.

You’ve never even tried Carmy’s cooking. You work for one of the most excellent chefs in the country, and you can’t even answer with an honest opinion when people ask you if the food at the restaurant is good.

Despite all that, you shake your head, using the excuse of wanting to catch your train before it gets dark out, and he takes that easily.

“Heard.” He nods, looking like he might want to say more. “Well, thank you, for showin’ up today. You were great.”

“Thank you, chef.” You reply, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the praise. “Goodnight, Carm.”

Before you can change your mind, you turn and walk away, clocking out quickly, but you still hear him say “Night!” from behind you.

When you make it onto a train car, safely on your way back to your apartment, you finally let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Maybe some other day, you think to yourself. It’ll be worth it to try the food some other day.

It had been one incident. That’s what you swore to yourself: one incident, one slip up, and it would never happen again. Besides, you think — or rather, hoped — Carmy’s forgotten about it. It was months ago, and things moved quickly in the restaurant, no time to dwell on things, especially not for the guy who has to run it.

You’d gone out to the back alley of The Bear for a short break. You’d seen the others do it a million times, mostly for smoke breaks, but you didn’t need a cigarette. You needed to sit down, give yourself a chance to catch your breath as your vision started to swim and your ears felt like they had been filled with cotton. And, well, usually you didn’t need breaks like that, usually you didn’t allow yourself to take them like the others did, but there was a lull between the lunch and dinner rush and Richie didn’t need your help in the front, so you quietly slipped out the back door while hastily putting your coat on. Just this once, you let yourself slump against the wall, sliding down until you were sat on the pavement. You don’t even remember your consciousness fading, just your heartbeat thrumming in your ears while your eyes slipped shut.

Carmy found you like that. He had barely noticed your extended absence, too busy catching up on more paperwork in his office before the dinner crowd poured in, and he decided he needed a smoke. It had almost startled him when he finally did notice you sitting there, your presence so quiet it took him a few seconds, before he also noticed you were asleep. He couldn’t blame you for that. He could use a fuckin’ nap these days.

Still, he walked over and leaned down, nudging your shoulder with his hand to rouse you, muttering a quiet “hey.” But you didn’t wake, not even after a couple more pokes. And then he started to worry.

When you came to, it was because of Carmy’s hands on both your cheeks, gently patting your face, his blue eyes wide with panic. You flinched a bit, startling at the realisation of what you'd done, swearing under your breath, and that was enough for Carmy to step back.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded quickly on instinct.

“I’m- fine. Yeah, I’m okay.” You stumbled over your assurance, knowing he didn’t quite believe you from the way he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“What are you doing out here? You’re freezin’.” You bite your lip, embarrassed at being caught a bit red-handed, unconscious with your body temperature dropping. You’re usually better than that. Better at hiding behind smiles, concealer over your dark under-eyes, and excuses of being more of a big breakfast person to get out of eating family meals with the rest of your coworkers every afternoon.

“Just tired. I’m fine.” You reply, hoping that’d be enough of an excuse, because everyone here is a little exhausted all the time. You pull yourself to your feet once he stands up from crouching in front of you, trying to convince him to just brush it off. “I'm good to keep going.”

You almost think that he buys that, before he stares at you a little bit longer, and you try not to shrink under his gaze.

“People who are fine usually don’t take five minutes to wake up.” He says. You don’t have a comeback.

“Yes, chef,” is the only thing you can say as you turn and walk back into the kitchen quickly, avoiding eye contact with him and making it through the rest of the day without needing another break, and without giving him a chance to talk to you again before you clock out that day. You don’t even stop by the office to say goodnight.

It was months ago, one time, and it wasn’t supposed to happen again. Not at work, not in the middle of a rush. That was just your luck, you guess, that you would get caught up working front-of-house, running between taking orders with Richie and handing out plates whenever you heard somebody yelling “Hands!” in the back, all while you hadn’t had anything more than water and a coffee in the morning in… fuck, you lost count of the days again.

You pause to take deep breaths and sips of water when you can, but you guess it wasn’t often enough, because one second you’re picking up plates from the expo station and the next you’re collapsing, taking the dishes with you.

When you wake up in a hospital bed afterwards, Carmy’s there. Slumped over in a plastic chair that can’t be comfortable, clad in a familiar checkered wool jacket. He’s asleep, but he’s here, and you don’t have the heart to wake him. You have no idea how long you’ve been out, but your heart fills with equal parts guilt and gratitude at the fact that he’s likely been sat by your side for hours.

You turn your attention away from Carmy for a second, taking in the rest of your surroundings. The cotton hospital gown, the uncomfortably firm mattress beneath you, the beeping of an EKG to your left, and to your right-

Your breath catches when you see it. An IV bag, steadily dripping fluid into you through the needle in your arm, innocuous but sinister.

“Shit.” You breathe out. Now you’re panicking. Now you’re cursing yourself for not being able to hold it together long enough to get through a busy hour, and reaching for the bag to get a better look at the text that you hope and pray details it’s nutritional information, but you quickly snatch your hand back when the privacy curtain is peeled away by a nurse checking up on you.

The sound of the curtain rings scraping against metal wakes Carmy, and the nurse smiles apologetically before turning to you and explaining what you already guessed: you're in ketosis, you fainted due to low blood sugar levels and a high-stress environment, you should take it easy and eat when you get home. You’ll be discharged as soon as your IV bag is finished. Fuck. You nod and smile along with everything she says, lying through your teeth about merely skipping breakfast that morning and thanking her for her time until you can get her to leave you alone again.

Well, alone with your boss, who’s silent through the whole conversation.

You wait for a minute after the nurse leaves, before turning to your right and carefully lifting yourself onto your knees to tug the IV bag off its hook and flip it over, desperately scanning the printed text. You can’t even bring yourself to care that Carmy’s there anymore, even when you can feel his eyes on you, witnessing your silent panic. You can’t help it.

You swear under your breath once you find what you’re looking for. When you do the math in your head, it’s- fuck- it’s hundreds of calories that they’re pumping into you. You hang the bag up and sit back, defeated, unable to do anything but fiddle with the thin blanket draped over your legs and curse yourself for not being more careful.

“You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?” Carmy asks gently after a few minutes, breaking the silence. You don’t know why that question makes your eyes fill with tears, even as you shake your head vehemently.

“Nothing’s going on, Carm. I’m okay.” You tell him, trying to keep your voice neutral. He pauses for a moment, making you think that maybe, just maybe, he’ll drop it.

“I know what ketosis means, chef.” You hate him a little bit for catching on. You were so sure you were flying under the radar, you could’ve kept your habits unnoticed if you had just not fainted again.

“Well, like I said, I skipped breakfast. I didn’t have time this morning.”

“Then why didn’t you eat family with us instead?” He insists.

“Because-“

“Why aren’t you eating, chef?”

You know he’s just concerned, as your boss, he can’t have you passing out at work so much. But you also can’t help the irritation that rises in you at his persistence.

“Fuck you, Carmen,” is all you can come back with, and he scoffs. “I felt weird intruding on family when I never eat with you guys normally. There. I’m sorry me not eating this one time got in the way of my job, it won’t happen again.” You try to explain, but you already know he’ll see through that.

“One time, along with the other time you fainted out back, and all the times you’ve refused to even taste a new dish we’re tryin’ out.” Your head snaps up, and you finally take a real look at him, taken aback by the fact that he would even be bothered to remember all that. He meets your irritation with nothing but softness in his eyes. “Talk to me.” He pleads.

You can’t take it. You tear up again, wanting, needing to fight against the temptation to tell him everything because, God, you don’t know how much more you can take.

“I can’t.” There’s no hiding your emotion anymore, your voice thick with tears. “Carmy- I- I can’t take it.”

“Take what?” He asks, his voice still gentle.

“Any of it!” You’re full on sobbing now, desperately trying to wipe away your tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” He almost coos, standing to move closer to your bed and wrapping his arms around you, bringing your head to rest on his firm chest, and you let him. You don’t object when his hand moves to pet the back of your head while you gasp for breath through your sobs, and he doesn’t object when your hands land on his back, clinging to the white t-shirt under his coat and relishing in the warmth radiating from him.

He doesn’t push you to say more. He holds you while you calm down, your breath evening out eventually, enough to speak straight.

“I can’t tell you, Carmy.” You finally say, practically whimpering. “I can’t get the help you’ll want me to get, because- I can’t stop. I don’t know how, I- I don’t know another way anymore.”

He doesn’t reply, at first, taking in a deep breath while he lets your words hang in the air.

“Okay.” He says quietly. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.” You’re relieved at his acquiescence. You don’t think you can take fighting with your boss on top of everything else you have going on.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

“Can I ask you to promise me something?” He continues, making you pause, before nodding hesitantly. “Let me look out for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, just- don’t keep going at it alone. You’ll just end up back here again. Or, y’know, half-breathing and unconscious in the back alley of my restaurant. Trust me, I know.”

You contemplate his words for a bit. You know he’s right, and you know you don’t want to end up in the hospital again. And maybe you owe him this one thing, for being here, for not pushing you like you expected him to, for not firing you after you interrupted his whole day with your bullshit.

“Okay,” You say. “I promise.” He breathes what you think is a sigh of relief, before leaning down and pressing his lips to the top of your head. You stay like that for a little while longer, silent except for the beeping EKG machine and your occasional sniffle.

“You’re freezing, you know that?” He says suddenly, and it makes you giggle; you haven’t held anyone close in a while, not long enough for them to notice you’re always cold to the touch. You know he’s smiling too, feeling his lips against your hair.

“Lookin’ out for me might mean letting me borrow this jacket every once in a while.”

“I’m okay with that.”

#carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear #the bear fx #carmy berzatto angst #hurt/comfort #angst #my writing #the shrimp that fried that rice

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shaisuki · 8 days

Note

helllooooo!!!! can i request yan! reo with a chubby, female reader is pregnant but they went to the doctors alone (somehow) and the doctor said pregnant! reader might die during child-birth but they hide it from reo 🫶🏽

ASSURANCE OF A SECRET

FT. YANDERE! HUSBAND! MIKAGE REO

content warnings: implied noncon, forced marriage, talks of escape, inaccurate descriptions of medical related content, pregnancy, suicide, ideas of losing a child, sensitive content. read the warnings before continuing. dead dove do not eat.

notes. thank you for waiting.

synopsis: a secret visit to a doctor gave you the sweetest of dreams.

it took you weeks of careful planning to get away temporarily. considering he was like a leech to you after finding out you were carrying his baby. ultimately fussy with a heavy case of turning into one of those shitty in-laws who doesn't know personal space. he's one a hell of a baby daddy. experts and professional alikes already at your disposal within the first minute of the revelation.

you were more uncomfortable with the attention he was giving to you whatever time he got at the day rather than the actual pregnancy. doctors told him after examining you that the whole duration of your pregnancy is going well but you're not convinced with them. knowing they were trying to sweeten up reo by that. you need a doctor that will tell you all the complications and risk you are going to face with this pregnancy and so you formulated your plan which had gone successfully.

being alone was difficult, regarding the number of bodyguards that closely follows you and the hidden ones. you even cannot trust a simple citizen who was just trying to get their coffee done. convincing reo to allow you to roam the streets was out of the question so you begged him to let you go but with the bodyguards which he agreed easily.

getting to a hospital was the real difficulty. you can also be passed as secret agent from the way you acted and planned out all of this. starting to get yourself wounded from a accidental cut. blood dripping in your car seat and your bodyguard who was instructed to tend to all of your emergencies, yes, it includes having the smallest of paper cut and even it was a small wound. you tricked him into going to hospital and leaving you alone with a doctor to examine your wounds and that's when you strike.

all alone with the doctor with multiple charts relating to pregnancy littered in a private room. your obstetrician laid out what to expect from your pregnancy and the complications and risks which you gladly wanted to know and they were honest like you wanted.

“considering your stature and this pregnancy. it's not going to be easy.” the obstetrician began to talk to you of what may happen at the duration of your pregnancy. “it poses risks such as miscarriage, heavy bleeding, infertility and worst, death. you might die if you were to deliver this baby.” your brows raised at the possibility of your death and somehow you weren't scared of it. happy? nope. more like it's the satisfaction you were about to feel when it comes true.

you would be free and you hoped this baby will do too. it can never have a father like reo and it would be a slap to him in the face. his selfishness reflecting to you and it would be his biggest karma losing you and this child.

you listened in full attention to the obstetrician. their rules on how to avoid such scenarios (which you hoped for) and how to take care of your body and hundred instructions every doctor would tell you.

you left shortly after thanking the doctor and you were on your ride home. thinking of the outcome this birth will do to you and you were assured by it.

with your days numbered and you merrily played along with your husband's whims. asking how's your day was and the other stuff. omitting the pregnancy stuff that you had took with a second doctor's opinion. this will be his punishment. losing you and this child he wanted with you. forced him to witness the horror and it's a shame you would be long gone before you can witness it. bleeding and cold in that table. life sucked out of you like what he did to you when he forced you to be his and have to carry this child.

he holds your hand where you caress your baby bump, meeting his gaze full of hope and excitement. you smiled at him. you just couldn't wait to replace the look in his eyes with madness.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock x reader #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk reo #mikage reo x reader #yandere mikage reo x reader #yandere blue lock #yandere blue lock x reader #blue lock x chubby reader #mikage reo

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anashins · 3 months

Note

Perhaps a Jaehyun fic where you’re either on your thesis or work and are pulling all nighters to meet your deadlines and avoid telling him cos you know he gets mad (even though idol Jaehyun does it too) so when he finds out (it could be bc you either passed out from exhaustion and maybe we get a hospital scene or since you hadn’t slept it slipped out of you? English is not my first language and I’m currently sleep deprived bc of my thesis work so sorry for any grammatical error 😭) he forces u to go to sleep but it’s really cute cos he’s also tired and you get some rest together

Pairing: Jaehyun x You

Genre: fluff, romance

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: While being in the hospital, you find out Jaehyun can braid hair. Every day, you learn something new about this man.

A/N: I tried to combine all of them! I hope you like it - and good luck on your thesis, you can do it 🤍🤍🤍

“I have to write my thesis!”, was your first thought upon waking up.

But the ceiling you were staring at didn’t look like your ceiling at home, you couldn’t recognize the color of the walls, and the sparse furniture didn’t belong in your room either.

What looked familiar to you though, as your gaze wandered further, was a figure next to you, sitting by the bedside. The dark hair, the worried expression, the warm hand holding your limp one… that was your boyfriend, giving you comfort in a cold room that seemed like it was located in a hospital.

“You’re awake!” Jaehyun exclaimed.

Realization of your last night at home seeped in. You hadn’t eaten or drunk something in… you couldn’t remember. You wanted it to be two days since your last meal and rest, but your admission into the hospital, arm physically attached to an infusion, indicated otherwise.

“What happened?” you asked groggily.

Jaehyun took a cup with a straw from the nightstand and led it to your mouth. “How do you feel?”

“Tired somehow,” you sighed, opening your mouth. The water tasted unexpectedly delicious, just what you had needed. “And anxious.”

“I found you last night, passed out on the floor,” your boyfriend explained and put the cup back on the nightstand, then seated himself next to you onto the mattress. “You seemed like you hadn’t eaten anything in days let alone slept for more than two hours a night, so I brought you here directly. I was so worried.”

He had dark circles under his eyes, seemingly not having slept this entire time either, ever since he had brought you here. “Jaehyun…”

You reached out to him and touched the side of his face. He smiled meekly. “I’m just so relieved you’re better now. I was so afraid when I saw you there, unmoving in your room. I didn’t know what to do, I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry.” Your hand dropped and covered the back of his that he had rested on your thigh. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just lost track of time, forgot to eat and there is still so much to do. I actually don’t have time to rest, I have to hand in my thesis in a week.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Jaehyun chided. “It’s only morning and the doctor will check up on you this evening before he can discharge you. Until then, you’re going to rest.”

“But-” you were about to retort, but he cut you off immediately.

“No buts. You’re not going to work on your thesis now or even think about it. And when you return home this evening, I will move in with you for this week.”

You blinked in confusion. “What?”

“I will cook for you, make sure you’re always healthy and hydrated and get enough sleep. This is not going to happen again, I’ll make sure of that. Let me take care of you when you can’t.”

You had already opened your mouth, but Jaehyun sounded so determined that you didn’t want to disagree with him. Apart from this, it sounded nice to have someone taking care of you when you weren’t able to.

“Okay.”

Living with him for an entire week until you finished your thesis didn’t sound so bad either. Very tempting even, truth to be told.

Your boyfriend then placed a bag next to you. “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s not your university materials.” Instead, he pulled out wired headphones, your favorite fantasy book, eye patches and a hairbrush. “We are going to do some selfcare while you’re here.”

You let Jaehyun put the eye patches on your face, the coolness directly having an effect on your tired skin. Then, he offered, “Here, let me brush your hair. I know you always take good care of it.”

You shifted to the side and pulled your hair back over your shoulder. Jaehyun let the brush slide over your strands, but some had already gotten light knots overnight. He took care of them by holding your hair close to the roots and detangling the ends carefully, so that they fell softly over your neck again.

Meanwhile, you took the book into your hands and began reading out to your boyfriend. You always talked about this book and had probably read it eight times already, but you never got enough of it, and Jaehyun had always been patient to listen to your opinions and rants, even if he had heard time a thousand times already.

“Should I braid your hair?” he then asked after he had finished brushing. “So while you’re lying down, it’s not gonna tangle again, otherwise I will spend the entire day combing your hair.”

You tilted your head. “You know how to braid?”

“Yeah, thanks to my little cousins.” You then felt his fingers sectioning your hair into three parts. “It’s not gonna be a fancy french braid, but I’ll give it my best. I even brought a hair tie.” Every day, you learned something new about this man. “Now, continue reading. I want to know whether Feyre will pass the second trial.”

He knew the answer to it. He knew the ending of the book and the entire series already, because you talked about it so often, but he also knew how much you loved doing so, which was why he always acted so clueless and let you speak your opinion.

You loved this man so much.

So you continued reading out to Jaehyun while he gently braided your hair. You felt the tips of the strands brushing over your neck and shoulders, laying on your back and swirling around. It took your boyfriend three attempts for the perfect beginning and he sometimes stopped halfway through to open the braid again, because he wasn’t satisfied. One time, he had even reached the end already, but then let out a sigh, seemingly dissatisfied with his work, and started all over again.

He was so focused, breathing regularly with much concentration, so that you weren’t sure whether he was actually still listening to you. But you didn’t care and instead enjoyed this chaste moment between you two.

“Finished,” Jaehyun then declared and put on the pink scrunchie to fix the braid’s end.

You tenderly touched the tips below the scrunchie. “There is no mirror, but I feel pretty.”

“That’s because you are.”

Jaehyun kissed your cheek and then removed the eye patches from your face.

“Come here.” You closed the book, placed it on the nightstand and took the wired headphones before shifting to the far end of the small hospital bed. “Lie down.”

“I’m so tall and the bed is so small, you won’t have enough space. It’s fine.”

“Don’t worry, it will work. Come here.”

You let your boyfriend lie down next to you and rested your head on his chest. One earphone, you put on yourself and gave the other to Jaehyun who then linked it to his phone and started playing music.

You then lied there together, not talking, just listening to his favorite songs and enjoying each other’s company.

Not much later, you heard Jaehyun snoring lightly, and smiled. He had taken care of you the entire night, he deserved this rest, and so you let him.

Yes, it was nice having someone taking care of you when you couldn’t take care of yourself. You would make sure to always do the same for him when you were able to.

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x you #nct x reader #nct 127 x you #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios

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lxclerc · 9 months

Text

𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary... charles' lonely call breaks your heart further requested... yes! warning... angst pairing... charles leclerc x reader

note... a little drabble requested back in november 2022. i'm so sorry for it being super super super late but if whoever requested it is still here then i hope you enjoy it! feedbacks are very much appreciated and encourages me to write more! extra note... also i'm taking a semester gap year so i will be trying to post more and get through requests so let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

you’re exhausted, having just got home from a forty eight hour shift. being a surgical resident is absolute hell and you’re not quite sure how you’re managing but somehow you’d manage to drag yourself back home, frowning as you reach for the light switch only to find the wall empty.

right. you’re in your own apartment, a place you hadn’t really lived at for months. mostly you’d come here when you needed something but more times than not, you go home to his apartment. it had been your home rather than this sad, lonely place void of his laughter.

you sigh, letting your bag drop to your thrifted couch. you suddenly wished you’d stayed in the hospital on call room instead of here. being back in this place reminds you of all the things you no longer have, of the person you no longer call yours.

god the self pity is getting tiring and you’re far too tired for another midnight crying session and so after washing the grime off your skin, you’d settled on your sofa with a bag of chips, flipping on the TV to some trashy american series to drown out your loneliness.

however, as fate would unfortunately have it, you hadn’t even reached the second episode before your phone started ringing, his smiling face displayed on the screen. you’d frozen on your spot. you remember the exact date you’d taken that photo of him and you still had the ringtone you specifically chose for him.

you’re haunted, your body full of memories and his fingerprints imprinted in your soul. even now, three weeks, two days and twelve hours since he’d called it off, he still haunts. you wanted to let out a bitter laugh as the ringing stopped. who’s counting right?

you refused to be his lonely call. you might be absolutely miserable and pathetic but you respect yourself enough for that. you won’t be his lonely call just because his friends and his girls are gone. you’d been his six am good morning but you will never be his midnight number whenever he starts wondering if he’d made the wrong choice.

your phone lights up again but you let it ring. if he had more things to say to you then he can say it after the beep.

he calls more times after that, keeping you awake as you stare at your ringing phone. a few times, you catch yourself reaching for it, reminding yourself that he’d been the one to make this choice. he’d been the one to make excuses about both your schedules being too much. and it was so unfair how he tormented you for it. this entire thing was unfair. you were willing to give everything to charles. you loved him far too much and you’d been under the impression that he felt the same but if he was willing to give you up so easily, did he really love you as much as he claimed he did?

he’d made his bed and now he needed to get used to sleeping on it.

it was around two am when he finally stopped calling and you’re sure you’ll have a headache come tomorrow morning from staying up too late. you decide to call it a night and end your self inflicted torture, putting your phone on silent as you turned off the TV and chucked your empty bag of chips in the trash. you were just about to turn off the light when the knock came and you knew without checking exactly who it was.

you sigh, frozen in your tracks as the knocks became more and more insistent.

“y/n,” his voice is rough, scratchy as though he’d spent the entire night screaming at the top of his lungs and you felt a tear slip down your cheeks. he sounded so broken. maybe as broken as you felt. “s'il te plaît, mon amour.” please, my love.

you stay rooted to your place. this is unfair. this is so fucking unfair. he’d been the one to give up. charles gave you up. how dare he come crawling to you now?

“Je suis désolé. Je suis désolé. Je pensais que je pourrais apprendre à moins t'aimer. Tu me manques,” he rambles. “i miss you so fucking much i didn’t even think it was possible, baby.” I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I thought I could learn to love you less. I miss you.

a sob rocks your body as you fall to the floor, clutching yourself as though you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“please, baby,” he begs and you can hear the way he’s crying too. “J'ai besoin de toi.” i need you.

and then you open the door. because you loved him too much. because you could never give up on him.

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @writing-about-current-obsessions @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerr @t-nd-rfoot @navixfr

#formula 1 #f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot

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xenon-demon · 11 months

Text

only one (1) coherent thought in my skull right now and it’s domestic steddie with Steve washing Eddie’s hair after he’s discharged from hospital post-Vecna.

I’m imagining Eddie’s being discharged to Steve’s house, because Steve is but a simple man with a saviour complex (and also a crush on Eddie) so he’s letting Wayne and Eddie stay with him. Partly so they have somewhere to be while the government sorts out some new housing for them, but mostly because Eddie needs support for these first few weeks out of hospital and Wayne is away at work a lot. Having Steve around as well means Eddie won’t end up in a situation where he needs a hand but is stuck home alone for hours.

Eddie’s recovered enough for discharge but still requires a lot of physical therapy, and one of the things he still can’t do is raise his arms above his head. He can’t wash his hair pretty much at all, and while the nurses washed it for him in hospital, they didn’t do it frequently enough for Eddie’s standards. His hair has been driving him insane, as the limp, greasy feeling against his face, neck and scalp makes him want to claw his skin off. When he’s told how long it’s expected to take before his arms have full range of motion again, he makes a joke-that’s-not-really-a-joke about going back to his buzzcut days just to avoid dealing with the feeling.

Steve is horrified at the suggestion, and immediately offers to wash Eddie’s hair for him. He also divulges that part of the reason he styled his hair the way he did in high school was because he played a lot of sports, and couldn’t stand the feeling of sweaty hair against his neck and face. Sure, he genuinely did want his hair to look good, but styling it up so it was out of his face was an added bonus.

Eddie’s hair is driving him so crazy that he says yes, especially once he realises Steve might actually get where he’s coming from.

Cue an emotionally tense shower, where both Steve and Eddie are stripped down to their boxers because they don’t want to this fully clothed but they sure as fuck don’t want to do it naked, either. (Spoiler alert, they’d both actually love to have a naked shower together, they’re just both too nervous to bring that up at this stage!)

But then Eddie slips while in the shower, still unsteady on his feet and learning to adjust to his bad leg, so Steve makes an executive decision to switch over to the bath. After a bit of manoeuvring they find a comfortable position to do this; Eddie sitting in front of Steve in the bath, Steve’s legs stretched out either side of him. Between the physical intimacy of having your hair washed by someone else, and the way they don’t have to look at each other’s faces as they do this, they end up talking. They get a lot more personal than they were able to in hospital or during Spring Break, and it’s such a nice experience that they’ll each happily put up with the sensory hell of waterlogged boxers.

Eventually - after Eddie and Wayne have moved into their new place, but Eddie and Steve are over at each other’s houses often enough that they might as well still be living together - Eddie can move his arms enough to wash his hair on his own. He’s gotten more used to his bad leg and can stand long enough to even shower if he wants to. They go about three weeks with Eddie washing his own hair, both of them desperately missing this little routine they’d built but not wanting to admit it. One day, however, Eddie feels so lonely and so tired from physical therapy that day that he asks Steve to wash his hair for him. Steve accepts in a heartbeat, almost before Eddie’s even had time to say the words.

It feels different that time. The energy between them is charged, everything feeling more intimate somehow. It’s so palpable a difference that after Steve runs the conditioner through Eddie’s hair to let it sit for a few minutes, Eddie turns around in the bath to face Steve. He takes a breath, trying to steel his nerves, and asks: can I kiss you?

Steve doesn’t answer him; he thinks the way he leans in and slots his lips in between Eddie’s is answer enough.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #domestic steddie #charlie writes things #they are AuDHD4AuDHD in this!!!! they’ve both got sensory issues!!!!!#inspired by my own sensory struggles with unwashed hair #also in this universe eddie absolutely is disabled post-vecna and steve has hearing/vision issues due to head trauma #those things just don’t really come up #might make this into a proper fic if I have time/motivation

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roosterforme · 10 months

Text

The Curveball Part 2 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Bob got Molly's phone number, but he hesitated, and now it could cost him. When he finally manages to go on a date with her, he should have done a better job of preparing his heart. Because he's completely hooked on Molly, but he's not the only one.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, eventually 18+

Length: 5500 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

When Bradley needed a few days off from tee ball to go to Lemoore, Bob was thankful that Molly's sister was able to step up as Team Mom and help him prepare for the game on Saturday morning.

It had been two days since he saw Molly. Two days since she kissed him goodnight in her car before he got into his truck and drove home with an erection. Two days since he managed to somehow not completely embarrass himself in front of his dream girl.

But now her phone number was burning a hole in his pocket. Bob wasn't smooth. He wasn't sure what he should do next. Maybe waiting to see if she showed up to another practice was his best bet? Or was he supposed to call her today? Was she at work at the hospital right now? Maybe he should text her first instead?

Flirting. Romance. Asking a girl out. He never did these things right. And Molly wasn't just someone random girl that he could try those things out on and not worry if he messed up. No, she was Molly. Bob would be lucky if he even got one chance with her.

"I'm here to help," his Team Mom told him as he set up home plate.

"You're a lifesaver," Bob replied, handing over his clipboard. "Can you read down the list and check everything off for me?"

"Sure," she replied, following him as he set up cones. When she got to the bottom of the list, she asked him, "Did you remember to text the parent who volunteered to bring the snack?"

Bob groaned as he set down the last base marker. "No. Bradley usually does that the night before, and I promised him I would remember to take care of it this week."

"That's okay," she told him quickly. "I have bags of goldfish crackers in my trunk as an emergency backup plan."

Bob felt so relieved as he said, "You're the best Team Mom in the history of Team Moms."

She giggled, and he smiled at her. She sounded like Molly when she laughed. But then she said, "So, I talked to Molly a little bit this morning."

"Really?" Bob asked, picking up the tote bag of balls and looking at her like he was hanging on her every word now.

"Mmhmm. She's kind of wondering why you haven't asked her out yet. She gave you her number. And it's been two days."

He was so flustered, he dropped the bag, sending balls rolling in every direction. He scrambled to pick them up, and she knelt to help him. "Does she really want to go on a date with me? Like just me and her?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Bob. Probably more than one."

More than one. More than one date. Bob had only ever been on a handful of first dates and even fewer second dates. He wasn't the type who kept women coming back for more. He was too quiet and reserved. Too meticulous and not loose enough. He was probably honestly boring. But Molly wanted to go out with him, probably more than once.

"Bob," she said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Her feelings are a little hurt that you didn't text her yesterday. If you like her, you need to make a move."

Bob had hurt Molly's feelings. He'd had his phone in his hands so many times last night, just looking at her contact name and number. But he never did anything about it. And now the game was about to start, and Bob's phone was buried in the bottom of his gear bag. He was tempted to dig it out now and text her, beg her to let him take her somewhere on a date.

Then the game started, and he went into coaching mode. But Molly was never far from his mind. When the game ended in a victory for the Tiny Eagles, Bob told her sister, "I'm going to text Molly right now. Does she have a favorite kind of food? And a favorite type of flower?"

She pressed her lips together, nodding and looking pleased. "Sushi. And those really ugly multicolored carnations."

"Thanks," Bob said, forcing himself to take his phone out right now. As he walked back to his truck with all of his gear, he typed out and deleted several messages. Nothing sounded right. He might need to call Nat for help. God, even fourteen year olds knew how to flirt over texts. What was wrong with him?

Bob tossed everything into the bed of his truck and took a deep breath. Then he quickly typed up a message and hit send before he could rethink it.

Hi, Molly. It's Bob Floyd. If you have an evening free this week and are interested, I would love to have dinner with you.

Then he stood there and nervously reread the message, already silently pleading for a fast response from Molly. Because maybe everyone else was actually wrong, and she was laughing right now at the idea of going out with him. At the thought of going out to dinner with a man who had to spend a full minute trying to come up with a response every time she spoke, because he got so flustered.

He tossed his phone into the cup holder and drove home. And not that he was counting, but it took Molly six hours and three minutes to respond to him. And when she did, his hands started sweating.

Molly: Coach Cute Glasses! Sorry for the late response, I'm working a double today. On my lunch break now. Dinner? This week? Are you sure you want to? You don't need to feel pressured to go out with me just because my sister is a bully.

Bob dropped his phone onto his kitchen counter. Molly thought he only texted her because her sister told him to. No, this was bad. But she wasn't completely wrong. He just didn't know he should have contacted her already.

Before he messed this up, he called Nat. She already knew about his crush on Molly. She kept calling him Cassanova at work. But Bob knew that Nat would help him without picking on him too much.

"Nat, I didn't know I was supposed to text Molly right away!"

"You didn't text her yet?" Natasha asked so loudly through the phone that Bob had to remove it from his ear.

"I sent her a message this morning. I asked her out to dinner."

Nat practically screamed. "Bob! You should have texted her like ten minutes after she left you at your truck on Thursday night."

"Nat, I don't know how to do this!" Panic rose inside him.

"Okay. It's okay. What did she say to you?"

Bob went into every single detail he could think of and sent Nat a screenshot of his text with Molly. And then Nat did scream at him.

"Text her back this instant! She's so unsure, Robert Charles Floyd! You need to reassure her that you've had a boner in her honor for weeks and would like nothing more than to wine and dine her!" Nat huffed as Bob juggled his phone and started to draft a text to Molly. "Between you and Rooster, my hands are full. And yet I'm the one who's not getting any pussy? Unbelievable."

Bob took a deep breath, verified his response with Nat and then ended the call. Then he hit send.

I've been thinking about you a lot. Pretty much nonstop. I want to go out with you if you're interested.

And then Bob stared at his phone for sixteen full minutes until Molly wrote back.

Molly: Thursday night? I could meet you at tee ball?

And just like that, Bob had a date. And now he needed to get a reservation at the best sushi restaurant in San Diego.

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

Molly: Well what do you think of when you think of me?

Bob was on cloud nine. He and Molly had been texting constantly for days. Sometimes it was just a quick greeting. Sometimes it was flirty. And last night she sent him a selfie of her at work during her overnight shift. She was smiling in her maroon scrubs with her name embroidered on the top. She looked sweet and happy, and Bob had shamelessly masturbated to the photo.

When I think of you, I think of how bad your driving is.

Molly seemed to like it when he teased her. She told him over and over again how funny he was. Bob had never been this charming before.

Molly: You fly in a fighter jet, Lieutenant Floyd. Get over yourself! No wait, I'll bet you drive like a grandma. A grandma with a big, huge.... pickup truck.

Bob was laying in bed now, so excited for dinner tomorrow night.

You'll find out tomorrow when I drive us to dinner.

Molly: I can't wait.

After work on Thursday, Bob showered in the locker room, but instead of the baseball pants, he changed into jeans and a soft undershirt. He had a dress shirt hanging in his truck that he would put on for dinner. He just hoped he didn't get too sweaty at practice.

He took more time to fix his hair than he ever had before. It felt important that he looked good tonight. He had a vase full of the ugly flowers that Molly liked. Apparently you could only buy them at the gas station, and Bob laughed when they came to four dollars for a bouquet of a dozen. He bought three dozen flowers for Molly last night and put them all in an oversized vase. He carried them in to work this morning and left them in his locker all day so they wouldn't wilt. When he was ready to leave for tee ball, he grabbed the vase out of his locker along with his keys and wallet.

When Nat saw him in the hallway, she squealed. And then her eyes went wide. "Bob, no. Those flowers are hideous. You need to stop and get her something better!"

He laughed at the appalled look on her face. "She likes these ones. I verified it with her sister. Even sent a photo to confirm."

Nat studied him for a minute. "She likes ugly flowers and top tier sushi? And she's hot. And she thinks you're charming. She's quirky, Bob. Molly sounds like a treat. Like somehow... this makes sense to me." She patted him on the chest and then added, "Have fun! Don't forget some condoms!"

Bob gripped the vase in both hands before it could drop to the floor. Was he really supposed to do that? Stop and buy condoms? For a first date? Surely Nat was out of her mind. Bob laughed and headed outside to his truck. He buckled the vase in with the passenger side seatbelt.

"Condoms," he murmured, blushing. He was just hoping for some more kisses. He was going to let Molly take the lead on everything physical, and maybe after a few weeks and a few more dates, they'd start to need condoms. If he was lucky. If she wanted to keep seeing him.

When Bob got to the ballfield, he still felt calm, collected. But when his eyes caught on that blue car, his heart skipped around in his chest. Because there was Molly, and his brain was quickly flooded with all of the flirty text messages they had been sending back and forth since the weekend.

She had on a rather short dress, and Bob was filled with desire. It was almost like he forgot how beautiful she was since he'd been absorbed by talking with her over text. He had learned a lot about her as they chatted late into the evenings. Molly bowls in a league. Her favorite color is neither green nor blue but greenish-blue. She volunteers at blood drives. She likes spending time with her nephew. And she sleeps naked.

Bob had blushed for an hour when she casually told him that. And now he was blushing again and getting flustered. Because Molly was here. And she was beautiful to look at as well as lovely in every other way. Everything about her was a turn on to Bob.

But he still wasn't so sure he could continue to impress and entertain her. He wasn't cool. He wasn't sexy. Bob embraced his nerd tendencies. He was often reserved. Methodical. Meticulous. Molly was spontaneous and silly. She was perfect. A spitfire. The opposite of him.

Molly walked down to the ballfield directly toward Bob, and then she did the unthinkable. She planted her left hand firmly on his chest like it belonged there. And then she kissed him on the cheek before brushing his lips with hers. Right in front of everyone.

"Hey, Coach Cute Glasses," she said with a laugh that had Bob fiddling with his whistle. "I'm excited for our plans tonight."

"Hi, Molly." Bob mumbled as all the moms looked on. He could feel himself blushing as she patted his chest and went to sit on the bleachers.

He wasn't sure how he managed to keep it together, but he finished practice without getting too sweaty. Molly was lingering by the bleachers and talking to her sister as Bob talked with some of the other parents and said goodbye to the kids.

When he started heading for the bleachers, Molly shoved her sister and nephew toward the parking lot and said, "Bye!"

"Hey, I thought you told me you loved spending time with your family," Bob said with a laugh.

"I do!" Molly insisted. "But would I choose them over a hot guy who promised me sushi? Nope."

You took Bob by the hand and he muttered, "I still find it hard to believe you're talking about me."

Molly rolled her eyes and said, "You know you're hot. Now you promised me a walk around the park before dinner."

Bob couldn't help but smile as she tried to pull him toward one of the walking paths. But he gently pulled her closer to him. "Let me put my gear in my truck first."

She walked with him to the parking lot, and when he tossed his tee ball equipment into the bed of the truck, he heard Molly gasp. She was looking in the passenger side window as she said, "Oh my goodness, Lieutenant Floyd. Did you buy me gas station flowers?" She turned to look at him with adoration in her eyes. "I love gas station flowers."

"I asked your sister what I should get," he told her as he blushed.

Bob's limbs felt warm as Molly clapped her hands together and then bounced into Bob's arms. "I can't believe you took the time to ask my sister what I like," she whispered, lips brushing his ear.

Bob's hands came to rest on her lower back as he held her close. "I want to know everything you like."

She hummed softly and kissed the side of his neck. "I like you."

Now Bob felt too warm. He needed to cool down. He swallowed hard and said, "How about that walk through the park?"

Molly was like a force of nature, always keeping Bob's full attention on her. She told him stories about work and her sister, and she constantly asked him questions about himself. He wasn't interesting, so he tried to turn the conversation back to her as quickly as possible each time.

"So," she said eventually, chewing on her lip. "Bradley told me you don't have a girlfriend, but... how many women are you seeing?"

"Seeing?" Bob asked, looking at her pretty face and their linked hands.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I mean, I'm just curious if you're going on a lot of dates, but you don't have to tell me. Pretend I didn't even ask!"

Bob stopped in the middle of the path, and Molly came to a halt too. "Just you," Bob said slowly. He hadn't even considered that his original thought of Molly's collection of a hundred boyfriends could still be correct. Just because she didn't have a boyfriend, that didn't mean she wasn't seeing a bunch of other guys. And now Bob felt like an idiot.

"Just me?" she asked, surprised. "Oh. That sounds nice."

He forced the words out. "What about you?"

"Well," she said, ducking her head in embarrassment. Bob could feel disappointment thrumming through his veins. He'd already gotten his hopes up when he'd been texting her late into the evening every night. But he had never once thought that maybe he wasn't the only guy Molly was chatting with.

Then she cleared her throat. "Well, my ex, Casey, and I were kind of seeing each other again, but I cancelled on him after I gave you my number last week. I had high hopes, but when I didn't hear from you, I figured that you didn't want to go out with me."

"I'm sorry, Molly," Bob mumbled. He had hesitated, and it was going to cost him. He was so bad at all of this stuff, it was unbelievable.

She smiled up at him. "I thought maybe I came on too strong for you."

"I liked it," he said softly. And then he decided to be bold and try to make her forget about Casey. He leaned down and kissed her. But his plan backfired. Because instead, she made him forget he'd ever looked at any other girls. When he finally pulled his lips away from hers, his glasses were crooked again. Molly adjusted them before he could, and then she pushed her fingers through his hair.

She whimpered softly, which made Bob's entire body throb, and then she was in his arms and kissing him all over his entire face before settling back on his lips again. "I just love your glasses," she whispered against his neck as her hand trailed down the front of him to the button of his jeans.

"Molly," he groaned, which was a bad idea, because her hand dropped a few more inches, and he had to grab her wrist as she ran her hand along his erection. "Molly, let's go get sushi."

She nodded at him. "Yeah, okay."

He was aching for her, and now that he got a little taste of her touch, he wanted more. She sounded out of breath, and Bob was beginning to wonder if this is what chemistry felt like. This nonstop attraction. His inability to look away. His concern about being better for her than her ex. Better than anyone else.

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

Molly held her vase overflowing with rainbow flowers while Bob drove toward the naval base. He had put on his dress shirt, and now the radio was playing softly as he followed every traffic law.

"I just knew you'd drive like a grandma," Molly said. "Your hands are at ten and two on the steering wheel. You don't go even a smidge over the speed limit. And you have absolutely no trash or anything in here." She glanced around the cab of his spotlessly clean truck.

Bob cleared his throat. "You know who taught me how to drive?"

"Who?" she asked, laughter in her voice.

Bob turned to face her at a stoplight. "My grandma," he told her with a smile.

Molly erupted into laughter that filled his heart. "It shows, Uncle Bob! I love it!"

Okay so this was clearly the best date Bob had ever been on, and he wasn't even at dinner yet. He had no idea how a good night kiss would go since Molly had already kissed him. Quite a few times. And she had touched him, too. She made everything so exciting, he kept looking forward to more.

"Have you been here before?" he asked, parking in front of what Payback and Fanboy had promised him was the best sushi restaurant around.

"Of course," Molly said, crawling across the seat toward Bob once he climbed out of his truck. "It's the best." He could see down the front of her dress as she made her way across the seat on her hands and knees. Bob was going to ask what she was doing, but he was just staring at her. He reached out to help her climb down, and her body skimmed along his.

"Did you come here on a date?" he asked as they walked into the restaurant, presumably just to punish himself.

After Bob gave his last name to the hostess, Molly shook her head. "I brought my sister here for her birthday. And again after her divorce was final. Never on a date."

Bob liked that. Molly was looking up at him like he was transparent, but he didn't mind that either.

When they were led to a table, he pulled out one of the chairs for her. When his fingers skimmed along her back, she looked up at him and followed him with her eyes until he was sitting across from her. Nobody had ever looked at him this way. It was so surprising, Bob felt completely off balance.

When he stretched his long legs out, he bumped hers. "Sorry," he mumbled, but Molly hooked her ankles around his legs and pulled them closer.

"That's okay," she said. Bob listened to her order a beer, a salad and some sushi. He couldn't focus on the menu at all. Not with the way Molly was rubbing his calf with her foot. He said something to the waiter, so he must have ordered something for himself.

Molly reached across the table and ran her fingers along his. "So, where are you from, Coach Bob? Your accent is cute."

He smiled down at his chopsticks. "I grew up on a ranch in Wyoming. My family moved to California when I was fifteen."

She bit her lip and stared at him before she said, "You're a country boy."

"Yeah," he replied with a laugh.

"I'll bet you ran around in cowboy boots and collected bugs as a kid. You probably had your own wildlife preserve on the ranch."

"I did, actually," he confirmed with a grin. "I've always been a bit of a nerd. Interested in the ranch animals and the way things worked."

Molly seemed to understand him, and all of his interests and nuances didn't bother her at all. "Good lord almighty, a nerdy cowboy. I could definitely get used to that," she muttered.

Bob wasn't sure what to say. Maybe Molly was feeling like he was? Maybe the more she learned about him, the more she liked? I didn't seem at all plausible, but there was just something about the way she looked at him.

"Do you have a cowboy hat?" she asked innocently with her hands folded in front of her.

"Not anymore," he said, and she was giggling now.

"I'll get you one," she whispered. "Or maybe I could wear it."

Bob could picture it. Molly, sitting on his lap, wearing a cowboy hat that was a little too big for her head before laughing and dropping it onto his head.

"You'd look cute in it," Bob confirmed, and her eyes lit up. "You'd look cute in anything."

"You know what I think I'd look great in, Lieutenant Floyd?"

Bob shook his head, mesmerized by the way Molly's lips looked when she spoke. "Tell me?"

Her eyes dipped down to his collar as she said, "That shirt you're wearing. It'll look pretty great on me tomorrow morning."

Bob's cock registered the meaning before his brain did. She was rubbing her foot along his calf and looking at him expectantly as she pressed her beer bottle to her lips. Was she suggesting a sleepover? Bob made a grunting noise, but he was saved from having to try to speak when their food was dropped off.

As Molly picked up her chopsticks and went to take her first bite of sushi, Bob managed to say, "I'd like to see that."

She froze and looked at him. Her eyes were so expressive and unguarded. She wore her emotions on her face, and even Bob could tell that she wanted him. It didn't make sense, but it was true. It was obvious.

He sat a little taller and smirked as he started eating. Because if a woman like Molly was interested in him, even if he wasn't the only one, it was something to get excited about.

"How's your sushi?" he asked, one eyebrow raised above his glasses.

"So good," Molly replied softly, her food still held in midair in front of her.

Bob smiled. "You haven't eaten any yet."

"I know," she assured him. "But when I do, it's going to be perfect."

Bob ate quickly after that, not really tasting his food. Molly seemed to be enjoying herself though, little moans and gasps of pleasure filled his ears as she ate. And she shared her food with him. He liked that.

"Here, Bob. Try this one," she said, holding up her chopsticks instead of setting the sushi on his plate this time. Then she fed it to him and watched his mouth work as he chewed. "You're really sexy," she gasped before setting her chopsticks down. Bob watched her run her hand along the back of her neck as he ached for her. "I'm sure you get that a lot."

Bob almost never got that, but he didn't want to tell her. He didn't want her to think of him in any other way.

"Molly," he whispered, pushing aside his plate as she ran her foot up along his jeans again.

"Wanna take me home?" she asked softly, and Bob was nodding and reaching for his wallet. He dropped three fifty dollar bills onto the table, confident that would cover everything plus a tip, and then he was on his feet.

Molly abandoned some uneaten sushi and the last few sips of her beer in favor of his arms. She kissed him on the cheek right there next to the table and whispered, "I just want to take you and my gas station flowers back to my place for the night."

Bob let her hook her index finger through his belt loop, and he followed her wordlessly toward the exit. He opened the truck door for Molly while she ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him softly.

"Do you want me to take you to get your car?" he asked as her lips met his jaw. "Or... do you want me to-"

Molly dragged her fingernails along his scalp, and Bob's cock throbbed against her belly where she was pressed tight to him. She must have been able to feel him, but he wasn't embarrassed about it at all. She whined softly and kept kissing him as she spoke. "Take me home, Bobby."

Bobby. Shit. He was unbelievably turned on. Letting Molly take the lead physically was maybe a bad idea, because several of his shirt buttons were undone, and her lips were on his Adam's apple. She was so warm and sweet. Never hesitating to show him affection or tell him she liked something about him.

And he liked everything about her. What was he waiting for? Once again, Molly made the next move, pulling her lips away from him and patting him gently on the cheek as she climbed into his truck and got buckled in with her flowers. Bob felt cold where her body used to be pressed against him as he closed her door and walked around the bed of his truck.

But when he started the engine and turned toward Molly to ask for directions, she kissed him again and rubbed her hand up along his thigh. "Turn right out of the parking lot," she whispered. After a few miles of following her directions, Molly whined, "I even find it sexy the way you drive like an elderly person. What is happening to me, Lieutenant Floyd?" Her head was tipped back against the headrest, and her palm was resting so high on his jeans, she was about to nudge his erection.

"Molly," he gasped, unable to say much else. He had never been this turned on before, and now he was afraid she was going to want to have sex with him. He'd never done that on a first date. Or a second date. Or a third date. His last girlfriend made him wait until they went out eight times, which was fine, but then she lost interest in him after a few more dates.

But Molly made him feel the same way flying in a Super Hornet did: she was exciting and fun, but the element of danger lurking beneath the surface made it even better.

"Park there," she told him, pointing to her assigned spot in her apartment complex. And then her seatbelt was off, the vase was sitting on the floor, and she was straddling his lap. There was no way he could hide how hard he was, so he didn't even try.

"Molly."

She devoured his lips, kissing him nice and slow while she took both of his hands in hers. Carefully, she guided his hands to her bare thighs, easing them up underneath her dress a few inches. Then she carefully worked on the rest of his shirt buttons while she kissed him. Molly's skin beneath Bob's rough hands was the softest thing he had ever felt. And the more he explored, the louder she got.

Then she wrenched her lips away from his, and Bob sat there staring at her as she looked at his mouth. There was a little crease of concern on her face as her brow scrunched up, and her eyes met his as she said, "Wait."

Bob started to pull his hands away from her legs, embarrassed now by how forward he'd been. "Sorry," he murmured, but Molly took his hands in hers once again and placed them back on her legs.

She kissed his lips gently one time before she said, "I really, really like you, Bob...maybe we should slow down?"

"Okay," he agreed, realizing he was running purely on adrenaline at the moment. "Slow. Okay. Yes." That was the speed he knew best anyway. But Molly's lips were back on his neck and she was scooting a little more snug up against his body.

"Slow," she murmured against his skin. And then slowly, she untucked his undershirt so her hands were on his abs, and Bob's head tipped back. Slowly, she kissed and nipped at his neck. Slowly, she rolled her hips against his. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as she slowly unbuttoned his jeans and licked his ear.

"I thought you said slow," he whispered, panting as he gently squeezed her thighs in his big hands. "Molly."

"Keep saying my name," she gasped, shaking as he dug his fingertips into her soft flesh. "Bobby, please."

"Molly," he grunted, sucking in a breath and kissing her mouth. He swallowed down her soft whines and whimpers as he pushed her back against his steering wheel. She leaned back like she was on display for him, still rolling her hips gently against his.

Bob had never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. And as she ran her hands down over her own body, she stopped at the hem of her dress. "Keep saying my name," she demanded.

"Molly," Bob whispered, watching her ease her dress up higher. "Molly," he groaned, both syllables coming out a little rough. She wasn't wearing underwear. Her bare pussy was resting on the fly of his jeans, because she wasn't wearing any underwear. "Molly!"

His hands were on her waist and his lips were skimming across the soft swell of her breasts. Bob was rutting gently against her now, but he couldn't stop as she cried out one word. "More!"

"Molly," he panted, imagining how good he would feel wrapped in her warmth. "You said slow, honey."

"I don't want to go slow!" she moaned. "But I don't want you to think I always do this!"

Bob looked her in the eye. He didn't care if she did this all the time. He just wanted her feelings to be as strong as his, so maybe she'd want to just be with him now. Because he was already completely addicted to being around her. And if they had sex, he knew he wouldn't recover from it with his heart intact if she turned around and grew tired of him.

"Molly," he whispered, running his knuckles softly along her cheek so she'd look at him. "I don't care if we go slow or fast or somewhere in the middle. But I really like you, too. And nothing's gonna change that."

She nodded as he cupped her cheek. "You're too sweet," she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him. She knocked his glasses crooked and let her forehead come to rest on his. "Let's go inside."

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

I am so obsessed with Mob. Don't forget, Bob fucks. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 3

@theamuz

@thedroneranger

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fluff #robert floyd fic #bob floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #the curveball #batting practice #roosterforme

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siriusleee · 5 months

Text

For @glitterypirateduck Call of Duty Christmas Special. Author's Note: For the holiday season, I wanted to write some things for some of my mutuals I've met the past year I've had my blog. This is for @lethargicluv - have fun with finals. Christmas Movie: White Christmas Premise: Simon is your neighbor; neither of you want to spend Christmas alone.

It’s bitterly cold outside, but the plates in your hand keep you warm as your boots crunch across the snow covering your yard. Thankfully it’s a quick trip next door; you knock the crusted snow off of your boots on the steps before juggling the plates around so you can knock on Simon’s door.

You see his curtain twitch and know that he’s looking out to see who’s knocking. Half a minute later, you hear the locks being undone and the door swings open.

“I brought you dinner,” you say before he can say anything, shoving the plates towards him. “I saw your truck pulled in late, and I had extra. I figured you hadn’t eaten.”

His eyebrows knit together above the black hospital mask he’s always wearing, but he still reaches out to take the plates from you.

“Thanks.”

“No problem!”

The two of you stand awkwardly in the cold until finally, you give a half turn, shooting a smile over your shoulder at the man glowering in his doorway.

“Have a good night!”

The next day the plates are washed and stacked on top of each other outside your front door.

It starts a game between the two of you: every time you bake something there’s just too much extra for yourself, and every time Simon spots something wrong at your place he’s there to fix it, grumbling about your shit landlord.

“You’re going to break your neck one of the days,” he grumbles at you, bouncing on your front steps, the wood bowing beneath his weight. You frown at him from your spot at the front door; you’re still bleary-eyed from the sleep he interrupted with his knocking on the door.

“I’ll call the landlord and have him fix it,” you tell him, biting off a yawn.

“Don’t worry about it.”

You can tell from the way he stands that in less than an hour, he’ll be there with a hammer to straighten everything back up.

It goes on for weeks until you’re knocking on his door again, but this time empty-handed. Simon opens the door, fully dressed like he somehow expected your request.

“Do you think you help me get a Christmas tree?”

You almost expect him to say no, but agrees without question, and an hour later finds the two of you wandering between pre-cut Christmas trees. The snow falls lightly, tangling in the fur around your hood.

The aisles are thin, picked almost clean of everything but the Charlie Brown trees. You pause to look at one, fingertips tracing the green needles before moving on to the next.

“Bit late for a tree isn’t it?” Simon asks from behind his mask, hands tucked into the pocket of his hoodie.

“Yeah probably. It just felt a little depressing around my house.”

You’re evaluating the trees with an air of expertise, but not knowing what you’re looking for. While you do, you find yourself talking to Simon, just to fill the silence.

“I usually go home each year, but my parents are going on a vacation this year. I wasn’t going to decorate for just myself, but then everything seemed so boring and drab. What do you think of this one?

This one is skinny and little but still filled out more than most of the trees on the lot.

“I don’t think it’ll hold any ornaments,” Simon says, amusement coloring his voice, “but it isn’t the worst-looking one.”

“That’s fine because I don’t have any ornaments.”

You step back, admiring the tree before giving yourself a small nod.

“Yeah, I think this one. Do you think we have to ask the guy-”

You don’t have the sentence out of your mouth before Simon gently nudges you out of the way and shoulders the tree. You trail him back to the front of the lot, watching how green needles shower onto his back. He pauses just long enough to let you press a bill into the lot owner's hand before setting off to his truck.

He doesn’t let you help tie the tree down in the back of the truck, telling you to go buckle in instead. You watch him wrestle with the limbs in the rearview mirror, hurriedly pretending to be playing on your phone when he climbs in.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Christmas music plays on the radio as Simon takes the two of you through a drive-through, passing your burger and fries without hurry. The two of you eat in the parking lot, and you try not to stare at his face as the two of you eat.

“Are you - are you doing anything for Christmas this year?” You ask timidly, picking at your fries. In all the weeks the two of you had spent rotating around each other, you’d never seen anyone else at his house, never heard him mention anyone else.

“Watch TV and sleep,” Simon replies, wiping his hands on a napkin before tucking his trash into the bag. “Don’t do much other than that usually.”

“Oh.” Is your simple reply, and then you speak again before thinking. “Do you want to come do Christmas at my house? Just me and you?”

You see the way he moves slower with the trash and the way he hurriedly pulls his mask back over his face. You think you’ve overstepped a boundary, but Simon finally answers as he puts the truck into reverse.

“Ok.”

It starts a nervous excitement in you. You can’t remember the last time someone’s come by to visit, much less the last time you’ve had someone over for a holiday. You find yourself nearly on your hands and knees scrubbing at the baseboards to try to get the place gleaming. The Christmas tree Simon carried into your house is sparsely decorated, but what you lack in ornaments, you make up for in enthusiasm.

You hadn’t known what to cook - would a guy like Simon like traditional Christmas food? You’d spent forty-five minutes at the grocery store standing in front of the Christmas hams before your hands migrated over to the steaks. What man doesn’t eat steak? You’d chosen two: a bigger one for Simon, and promptly spent too much money on all the sides.

It all culminated in your house being cleaner than you’d ever had it, the steaks cooking in the oven, and your fingernails nervously bitten down as you tried not to watch out the window obsessively to see when he would finally exit his house.

Five minutes before he agreed to be at your house for dinner, you spotted Simon exit his front door, not bothering to lock it after it swung shut behind him. You leave the television on to try and fill the silence - Bing Crosby talking about Christmas in White Christmas - and open the door just a minute too early to be completely casual.

Simon stands on the bottom step, too tense to be casual himself. His black mask is gone for the evening, and it’s an act of extreme willpower not to stare at his face. You have to force yourself to keep your eyes on his own.

“Hi,” you feel lame, so you keep going, “you’re right on time.”

“Traffic was pretty light tonight.”

You laugh; the corner of Simon’s mouth twitches up, and your stomach flips. You step aside, a wordless invitation, and Simon takes it.

He looks gargantuan in your living room as he takes in the last-minute Christmas decorations, and the classic Christmas movie on the TV. His nostrils flare.

“Smells good.”

You feel a satisfied blush start at your chest, so you scurry around him to try to hide it.

“Thanks; it’s the chef special tonight.”

You check the potatoes; the entire time you can feel Simon’s eyes boring into your back. It makes you nervous in a way you haven’t been in a long time, your fingers hesitate on the pan before turning around to face him again.

Simon’s leaning against the kitchen island - much too casual for the irregular heartbeat that you’ve had since you first opened the door for him. Nervously, you rub your hands on your dark jeans and try to think of something to say that doesn’t make the conversation fall flat.

“I didn’t get you a present; I couldn’t figure out what to get a guy like you.”

“I don’t need anything; it’s nice enough you invited me over.”

You lean across the counter, emboldened by the look on his face. You trace the edge of the countertop and let yourself study the wrinkles and scars that litter Simon’s face.

“How else was I supposed to pay you back for all the things you’ve done around here.”

Simon shrugs, a mischievous look in his eye that you want to follow, but not tonight. He pulls out one of the bar chairs with his feet, settling down on it like he’s always been there.

“You’ve got some loose shingles on the roof - I think I’d fix those for a New Year's dinner.”

Your grin is so wide it nearly breaks your face apart.

“I can do that.”

#my fics #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #codholiday2023

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violetszone · 1 year

Text

Let's Meet Our Daughter

Charles x fem!reader

Summary: You were afraid of giving birth and weren't ready, and but your daughter had decided to come two weeks early.

WARNINGS: Quick finish,not edited writing,normal delivery

A/n: actually i have no idea what i wrote,By the way, I used some sentences that women really say during childbirth.

One of the things you've been thinking about for years was how you'd give birth if you got pregnant because you were terrified about it.You were even more afraid now that you were weeks away from giving birth to your daughter.

You never wanted to talk to Charles about it because he was really trying to deal with your fears but there was nothing he could do about it.It's only two weeks before you give birth to your daughter, and Charles returns to the races.

You were sitting on the bed reading, Charles brought you both a glass of water and left yours next to you, he settled down on his side of the bed.Your daughter was active tonight, you were actually happy about it because it wasn't hurting She kicked a few times as usual, Charles had a little talk with his daughter, placed a kiss on your stomach,you turned off the lights and went to sleep.

Of course, sleeping wasn't easy because your daughter's kicks really started to hurt.You even moaned because it really hurt then you felt a wetness You turned on the light next to you and Charles woke up trying to understand what happened.

"No no no not now I'm not ready yet please" Charles took your hand in fear "Baby are you okay what's wrong tell me" you started crying unintentionally just then you felt a contraction "Charles, I'm giving birth" He got out of bed and came over to you, helped you get up, you already knew your water was break but now you were really scared.

You got in the car as fast as you could. you were crying with fear Charles was holding your hand, probably because he thought it hurt, he took you in his arms when you came to the hospital and they took you for the first check-up with a stretcher in the emergency room.

At the first check, they said that they will not do anything for now, as there is still 4 cm of clearance and the contractions are back to normal.They took you to the room and connected to a few machines for control, now you are a little calmer.

Charles didn't leave your side and started keeping minutes for contractions. When your contractions increased, you started to get stressed again Charles was holding yourhand "Charles I can't I-I'm so scared" Charles wiped the tears from your eyes and kissed your cheek, "My love, I know you can do it, don't be afraid, I'm right here, there's a little more time, okay breathe, I won't let go of your hand"

You nodded, when the contraction passed, you breathed and sat back, you had been in the hospital for almost 4 hours when the doctor came to check, there was not enough opening, but they said they could give an epidural if your pain is too much, you didn't want it because you thought you could stand it.

By the 10th hour the contractions were really unbearable, you looked at Charles in horror when the doctor finally said it'stime to push. "No! i changed my mind,I don't want it Charles tell her I don't want it please I don't"

Somehow they convinced you to push, after a few hours you were really tired and hurt you spoke tiredly "Can I go home for awhile? I promise I’ll come back.” You frowned when everyone in the room laughed at what you said.

Your doctor told you to push again “I don’t care if you have to take her out of my ear, just get her out!” you shouted and groaned Charles wiped your forehead with his napkin you were really about to cry

"YN you have to push again we see the baby's head, Charles help her" Charles turned to you "Baby once again I know it hurts so bad but push for the last time" you groaned "No you don't know"

You turned and shouted when the nurse warned you "Will you shut up, I'm busy yelling at my boyfriend" You pushed with all your might and finally let yourself go when the baby's cries were heard.

You were crying with happiness when they held your daughter in your arms they took your daughter to clean your doctor checked to see if you were okay and asked how you were you nodded her, "You know YN people do this more than once" You looked at your doctor nervously and turned to Charles.“Maybe we can adopt the next one.”

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chronicbeans · 1 year

Text

Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 8)

Yippee! More time off! At a price, though.

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery, Idol Worship, Mentions of Stalking, Spoken Descriptions of Injury/Gore, Mentions of Threats

🎥 The night is a bit difficult for you. Not only is your mind swirling with worries about this stalker of yours, you keep hearing the oddest of noises. It is a bit like plastic tapping on the hardwood floors, before a very soft "thump", followed by a plastic scraping noise, then more tapping. It is like a cycle that keeps going. As much as you want to check it out, you are too scared to do so. Not only that, but if you want any hopes of getting sleep, you need to stay in bed. You are exhausted, but getting up will only wake you up more and completely ruin your chances of rest. The odd noises can wait. Maybe they are Henry playing with Wally? Wally's shoes are plastic and Henry's floor is hardwood. The only carpet there is a blue circle one that covers about half of the exposed wood.

🎥 You, somehow, manage to get a little sleep. Unfortunately, you are woken up to the sound of your downstairs phone ringing. So, you get up to go grab it. You are surprised when Angela makes it to the phone before you, picking it up. You almost forgot that she would be home when you were around. It isn't often you get to spend time with her at home, except for holidays.

🎥"Yes, what is it? You want (Y/N)? Who is this? How do I know you aren't their stalker?" She says, her tone harsh and sharp. She has always had a bit of a... rude tone when talking on the phone. If you had to make a guess, it is due to her long work hours. This situation, however, seems extra hostile on her end. Though, considering what you hear from her side of the conversation, it is a bit understandable.

🎥"Oh, you're their boss? Why are you calling during their break, then?" It grows silent. You feel awkward standing there, waiting for her to finally give up the phone. You watch as her cold eyes grow wide and concerned. "What? Oh... oh dear... Um... I'll hand the phone over to them right now."

🎥 You are finally handed the phone. Putting it against your ear, you ask "Hello? What is it, Boss?" There is a sound of rustling papers, before your boss says "Well... Good news and bad news. Mostly bad news. However, the good news is that you have a few extra days, if not weeks, of vacation! Bad news is that it is because of severe injuries to the... Uhh... "Overnight Team". Is that what they called themselves...?" They trail off, before there is some more rustling of papers.

🎥"Wait... what happened last night?" You ask, remembering how Eddie's puppeteer was walking with a slight limp. Your boss sighs, looking through some more papers, before saying "I can only really tell you what happened to Wally's voice actor and Eddie's puppeteer. The voice actor, I can only tell you because they worked alongside you and I put it into your contract that you both will know of the other's condition during emergencies. I thought it would help you both coordinate your rehearsals. The puppeteer consented to letting others know of what happened before being wheeled out in a wheelchair."

🎥 You grow silent, not knowing what to say. Your boss, seemingly waiting for a cue to continue, decided to take your silence as one. "The voice actor got hit in the head with a falling, two gallon can of paint. We believe it hit his head at an angle, with the rim causing a dent in it. He was found bleeding, but still conscious, somehow. He was given first aid from one of the two camera operators who found him, before the two rushed him to the hospital in their car. He is currently in stable condition, but passed out on his way there, and hasn't woken up."

🎥 You stammer in shock, trying to find something to say. Eventually, you settle upon the words "Do you know what caused the accident?" "No. As I said, the cameras seem to be turning off whenever we are not filming. Well, technically, if I remember correctly, I said that they turned off around the time we stopped recording... we have just learned through this incident that they turn off whenever we are not recording. None of these incidents were caught on camera. The camera operators seem to believe that whoever is behind the messages did all of this."

🎥 He then moves onto Eddie's puppeteer, explaining "They were able to tell us some of what happened, but not who did it. They were found to be limping, which caused Poppy's puppeteer to ask what happened. When they lifted their pant leg, it was revealed that someone had put staples in their leg, before puting five pieces of construction paper over it and taping them on with a tick layer of scotch tape. They were given first aid, before being wheeled out to the present director's car. When asked what happened on the way there, they claimed that they were jumped, promptly stapled and papered, before being forced to call you and deliver some packages with the threat of having staples put into his throat if he didn't. He refused to tell who did it, but mentions that they saw him. So, we know that whoever stalking you is a guy... At least, I think. They were so shaken up they could barely speak, so it might've been a mistake when they said "he" when referring to who hurt them."

🎥 You feel sick... as well as a bit guilty. You had seen them yesterday, but didn't mention anything about their limping. You faintly hear Henry calling for you, so you try to tell your boss goodbye, but they ask a question. "I need to know what was in the package they brought to you. Can you quickly tell me what it is before you go?" Without thinking, you say "It was just Wally. You know, the puppet? He had some red on his shoes and was pretty scuffed up. Now, I gotta go. My nephew is calling." Then, you hang up before they can finish their sentence.

🎥 Turning around, you sigh in disdain. This day is already exhausting and all that has happened was a phone call. Henry scurries up to you, a large grin on his cheeks as he chirps "I was going to tell you this last night, but you were trying to sleep. Wally said he likes you!" You giggle, a tired, exasperated noise that you didn't mean to let out. Right now, you don't really want to hear about Wally... wait a second...

🎥"That's sweet, Henry. Where is Wally, though? I thought you had him, since you two were having a sleepover." He looks around the room, before saying "Well, I went to bed cuddling him. He said he would let me cuddle him to sleep after I told him I had nightmares if I didn't cuddle a plushie. He told me puppets were soft and plush, like plushies. When I woke up, though, he was gone, so I grabbed my Barnaby plushie, instead. I thought you might've taken him because you work with him."

🎥 You open your mouth to speak, only to close it again as you realize what he said. You think of your words carefully, before asking "Did Angela tell you that I am Wally's puppeteer?" He shakes his head, a big, goofy grin on his face as he joyfully says "Nope! Wally did! He said he loves you very much! Something about him not being able to move on set without your help! By the way, can you tell me what a "set" is? Wally wouldn't tell me, saying that we would've been up all night if I kept asking questions."

🎥 You look around the room, before asking "Do you have any idea where Wally might be-?" "(Y/N)! Did you put the freaky puppet in my room?! You know how much these things terrify me!" You look upstairs, seeing Angela gripping the railing with one hand and dangling Wally by his leg with the other. "No, Angela! I was just asking Henry where he was!" "Well, tell Henry not to do it again! He must've looked in my diary, too, because this THING was sitting on top of it, the pages opened for anyone to see!" With that, she drops Wally from the second floor, a loud "thud" resounding once he hits the floor.

🎥 You pick him up, dusting him off, before looking back down at Henry. "Be honest with me, did you put Wally in your mama's room? Did you look in her diary?" Henry shakes his head, tears pricking his eyes as he says "No! I told Wally not to go in there! He promised he wouldn't! Wally, why didn't you listen? Now mama's upset with me!" He storms up to his room, slamming the door shut.

🎥 You look down at the little puppet in your hands, confusion and concern eating at you. If, by the smallest of chances, what Henry said is true... then your stalker could be... A puppet? The words he said sounded similar to the types of things the notes said. Then there's the Wally voice you heard in the studio... The red paint on his shoes could've been...

🎥 You're face grows pale, before you look down at Wally's shoes and mutter "Oh God... Oh, God no..."

🎥 You look up to Angela's room, walking upstairs. You might be acting too rash. Coming to the conclusion that puppets are coming alive is a silly thing to do. Angela could've told Henry about your job. Hell, he could've also told him about the letters you have been getting. Maybe he just put the two together, thinking that it was all some silly little game or joke. Kids are like that. They are blissfully ignorant to how important some things are, right? Kids are smarter than most think, but they still have their little hiccups here and there. Angela must have told him...

🎥 You hope, at least... the other option is a bit sickening to think of.

#welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home arg

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wosoamazing · 2 months

Text

Injuries, Confrontations and Apologies

Summary: Your Ma gets hurt but pretends she is fine and ends up in hospital.

Warnings: Concussions, Vomiting, Hospitals, Angst I guess

A/N: This was meant to be a soft comfort fic but somehow it turned into this – I mean I’m not mad. Hopefully you like it.

Last Saturday a bee stung you, it made you feel icky and you had to go to the hospital. The doctors at the hospital gave your Mum’s these weird pen things. The doctors taught your Mum’s how to use them, as well as Steph and Sam for just encase. You were upset about your trip to the hospital, as it meant you had to miss the game but you get to go to the game this week.

You slept almost the whole bus ride, much to everyone’s delight, today was an important game, so with you sleeping it meant everyone could focus on the game. When you did wake up there was only 10 more minutes of the trip left, you decided to go walk down and sit next to Steph, once she realised you were trying to climb into the seat next to her she helped you up, you didn’t make any noise though, you just sat there as you took in the world around you.

In the locker room you sat in your Ma’s cubby as you ate your snacks, everyone kept looking over to you and whispering to your Mum’s that you looked extra cute today.

You were sitting on Leah’s lap, well more so her good leg as you watched the game from the bench, there was around 20 minutes of game time left when your Mum doubled over before she started losing her stomach contents on the pitch.

“Weah,” you said

“mmm” she hummed to let you know she was listening “Ma sick” you informed her pointing “What do you mean?” she asked clearly not looking at the pitch.

“I think if you stopped having a nap and looked at the pitch you would see what she means” Beth joked.

“Oh shit,” Leah said as she looked at the pitch before looking over to Beth and Viv, who just made funny faces you didn’t understand.

“We see Ma? See if okay?” You asked as the medics took her off the pitch.

“Sure munchkin,” Leah put you down, stood up and was reaching to pick you up, before she was interrupted by Beth “Leah, you can’t carry her yet, it's too risky,” “I’ll be fine beth,”

“No Leah, Beth is right, it isn’t safe, or good for you, we will come with you” Viv said in a sterner tone. Leah huffed as Beth picked you up, before the three women took you to see your Ma.

When you arrived in the medical room your Ma was laying on one of the beds with her eyes closed.

“What happened?” Leah asked without warning, slightly startling your Ma.

“I started feeling a little dizzy and then next thing I knew I was throwing up” she replied.

“So, what you actually mean is that when you got hit in the head and feel backwards onto the pitch hitting your head again, you actually did feel it and really should’ve gone off then, but you wanted to keep playing so you risked your own health” Viv said as though your Ma was in trouble.

You stayed with your Ma until the game finished, you kept yourself entertained with a glove that Beth blew up.

____

When you got home your Mum told you to go play in your playroom for a bit, which you did, she then came in to talk to you. “Ma isn’t feeling too well, but you can see her if you want,” “O-tay, I go now?” “Yeah, you can, but you have to make sure to keep the lights off and be very quiet, and try not to move much, okay?” “O-tay,” you toddled down the hall and into your Mum’s room to see your Ma, while your Mum put some washing on.

“Ma,” you whispered as you walked up her side of the bed, her eyes slowly opened and she did some slow blinks, before she spoke.

“No Y/N, go away,” she said harshly, you quickly spun around as tears started rolling down your cheeks and ran out of the room, crashing into your Mum’s legs as your eyes were full of water and you couldn’t see.

“What’s wrong?” “M-Ma, said go way,” “Oh baby, I’m sorry,” your Mum said as she wiped some of your tears away, but as soon as she could wipe the old ones away new ones replaced them “How bout I put you on the couch and you can watch some frozen while I speak to your Ma.” You perked up at the idea of frozen and quickly nodded your head, your Mum put you down on the sofa and turned frozen on before she quickly filled one of your sippy cups with water and gave it to you. “I’ll be back okay,” you just nodded your head not really listening to her anymore because frozen was playing.

“Why did you tell Y/N to go away, you really upset her,” your Mum questioned your Ma.

“I feel like shit Cait, and I don’t want Y/N to, I don’t know” she huffed.

“I know you feel like shit, but it’s partly your fault, and it doesn’t give you the right to push everyone away who is just trying to help you and it especially doesn’t give you the right to get mad at your daughter and tell her to go away when all she was trying to do was help, I’m going to take y/n to the park, I’ll will be back in a bit, if you need anything please call me, I will come back and help, anything at all, I promise, but Beth and Viv have offered to take her to the park so I’m going to walk her around there,” before your Ma could say anything your Mum had walked out of their bedroom door.

____

“Katie, Babe, I just came back to check everything is alright, Y/N is still at the park with Beth and Viv” Caitlin said as she walked through the door, there was no response, “Katie, Babe,” the house was oddly silent, so she walked further through the house. “Shit, Katie,” Caitlin exclaimed as she rounded the corner to find Katie passed out in the middle of the floor, “Katie, babe, wake up” she shook Katie to wake her up.

“What, oh God,” Katie said as she woke up, she quickly got up off the floor and ran to the toilet before hunching over it, emptying the remains of her stomach’s contents.

“Why didn’t you call? You shouldn’t have gotten up and walked around,” Caitlin wondered what the point in asking that question was. Of course she didn’t call, she doesn’t ask for help and constantly pushes help away when she is offered it.

“Because you were mad,” Katie replied through gags. Shit she thought to herself. Was this her fault?

Katie stopped throwing up but soon passed out again, Caitlin quickly grabbed her phone and called Leah, in which Kim answered.

“Kim, Leah, I need your help. I’ve fucked up but that can be explained later, Katie needs to go to the hospital because I found her passed out and when I woke her up, she ran to the toilet and threw up heaps before she passed out again, but she isn’t going to listen to me, please help.” Caitlin stopped talking while her captains must’ve been talking, “Okay thank-you, I’ll go unlock the door, we’re just in our bathroom. Beth and Viv have Y/N.”

____

Thankfully the girls had been directed to a private waiting room, meaning they didn’t have to worry about fans.

As Beth and Viv walked into the room Leah and Kim looked at them in confusion, “We called Steph, she called Sam, Y/N is staying at Sam and Kristie’s, we told her it’s just a last-minute sleepover type thing. Steph is on her way here now.” Kim and Leah nodded with slight relief, hoping Steph would be able to talk to Caitlin, and maybe calm her down. She had been pacing the length of the room, wiping away her tears as they fell since they arrived.

Steph arrived and looked at the four women before her gaze moved over to Caitlin, she cautiously approached her and gently put a hand on her shoulder as she softly said, “Hey Cait, can you sit down for me,” Caitlin looked up at her and just about broke, almost collapsing in the chair behind her.

“I’m so stupid, this is all my fault” she blurted out.

“This isn’t your fault, this is her fault, she is the one that played with a concussion and made it worse, she is the one that didn’t ask for help when you told her too,” Steph said as she put her arm around her shoulder and rubbed her hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her.

“Yeah, but I left her alone, I left her alone after I got mad at her, I left the person who doesn’t take help let alone ask for it alone, with instructions to call the person who just got mad at her for help, what was I thinking she would’ve never called for help anyway let alone after I just got mad at her. I, I can’t believe I was so dumb to think that, I literally left her to fend for herself, what if she had hit her head on something on the way down, she could’ve died, I could’ve killed her, oh god, I can’t believe I just did that, I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have left her alone,” She blurted out, she leant into Steph’s side before continuing, “I was, I was,” she stammered before taking a few deep breaths as she suddenly felt sick “I’m going to be sick” Steph quickly reacted and thankfully as they were in a hospital there was just about sick bags on all the walls, in little dispensers. Steph rubbed her back as she lost some of her stomach contents, before Beth handed her a bottle of water which she took a small sip from. “Can you please lie down for me?” Steph asked, concerned for her friend, Caitlin did as she said and rested her head in Steph’s lap, falling asleep.

_____

Viv was in Katie’s room as she woke up, sitting on a chair at the side of the bed, she started to speak before Katie could. “I’m really disappointed in you, you really need to learn to let people help you, it’s not weak, Caitlin is literally out there in an absolute state, she literally made herself sick because she feels like such a crap person for getting mad at you and leaving you, when in reality she did nothing wrong, she left you with strict instructions to call for help. You do realise if she hadn’t come back when she did we could be in a very different situation. You might not even be here. In all honesty McCabe it’s hard when we try and help you and all you do is push us away, so I can’t even imagine what it is like for Caitlin, I get it you’re mad at the world in these situations, I’ve been there we all have, but you can’t push people away, especially the people in your life who love you the most, Caitlin absolutely adores you and for the most part you two have a great relationship but currently she is out there in shambles because she offers and offers when you need help and you don’t take, I don’t understand it.”

Katie couldn’t reply to that, Viv was right, there was nothing to do or say, other than to apologise to Caitlin who wasn’t there.

After quite a lot of awkward silence Katie spoke “Where’s Y/N?” “She is having a fun sleepover at Kristie’s and Sam’s, that’s all she knows.”

_____

Caitlin walked in hesitantly, her hair was a mess, her cheeks were tearstained, she had big bags under her eyes. Katie started crying, knowing it was her fault her girlfriend was looking this bad. Caitlin walked over to where the chair was sitting next to Katie’s bed, she sat down in it as she took Katie’s hands in hers before taking a deep breath.

“Katie, I’m sorry I left you alone, I didn’t know it was this bad, if I did I wouldn’t have ever left you alone, no matter how angry I was. But this is why you need to communicate with people, with me Babe. It’s dangerous when you don’t tell us how you are feeling. You could’ve died.” she sighed before continuing “I just don't understand why you won't accept help, needing help isn't a weakness it’s normal. I love you, I want to help you, try and help you feel slightly better. I’m not going to judge you or complain or tell you that you’re overreacting. I just want you to let people help you, at least let me help you, please” she kissed Katie’s hands and let them go. Katie sat up shifting forward in the bed, before she looked longingly up at Caitlin, who realised this was Katie asking for her help, even though she wasn’t using her words, it was a start. Caitlin climbed onto the bed and situated herself behind Katie, placing her legs either side of her before pulling her in towards her, Katie rested her head back to rest in the crock of Caitlin’s neck.

“I’m sorry Cait, I love you,” was all that Katie whispered in her ears before her eyes fluttered shut.

Caitlin awoke to the sound of gagging, she quickly grabbed the sick bowl and placed it in front of Katie before helping her to sit up slightly, Caitlin rubbed her back, as she dry heaved.

“Cait, help” Katie managed to say through gags, she sounded as though she was in tears, Caitlin pressed the call button, “I know babe, it’s not nice, but I’m here, I’ve got you, you’ve got this, you’re going to be okay,” Katie stopped and collapsed back into Caitlin, as they nurse walked in, she spoke to Katie, however her words were more directed too Caitlin “I’ll give you some anti-nausea medication,” she said, before she started sifting through draws, once she found it she put it into Katie’s IV and said, “hopefully that helps but if it doesn’t let us know and we will try and figure something else out.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin said as she smiled at the nurse who was walking out of the room. The pair very quickly fell asleep again, their day had been hectic to say the least, leaving the both of them exhausted.

It was the third time that night that Katie had woken up dry heaving, the second time it happened she was sent for another MRI to check she didn’t have a brain bleed or a clot, it came back clear, so they gave her antihistamines to see if they did anything, but they apparently didn’t. “Cait, please” Katie cried out.

“I know babe, I wish it would stop too, I wish I could make it stop, but I’m here and I’ll stay here, I love you, it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re doing great babe,” Caitlin said trying to reassure her girlfriend as she continued to dry heave. Caitlin eventually pressed the Nurse’s call button again as Katie hadn’t stopped, after consulting with a few doctors and specialists they decided to give Katie more anti-nausea medicine even though she had had the maximum amount, thankfully they did the trick and Katie stopped, allowing the pair to sleep through the rest of the night.

_____

You sat on the floor of the living room in your house playing with your toys, as Steph sat on the couch, watching over you, when you heard a familiar car engine pull into the driveway, a few moments later you heard Keys in the door unlocking it as Steph said “That’s your Mum and Ma,”.

As the door opened you tensed up, not knowing what your Ma might say to you, you saw your Ma standing next to your Mum and you ran upstairs into your room.

Your Mum and Steph helped your Ma into her room and got her all sorted before Steph left, telling them to call her if they needed anything. Your Mum told your Ma she was just going to check on you quickly and then she would be back.

Your Mum opened your door and saw your sobbing body splayed out on your bed, she picked you up. You tried to fight her hold but she just tightened her grip causing you to give in.

“Ma doesn’t want me,” you sadly say.

“Oh Monkey, that’s not true, your Ma was feeling very icky and that made her mad,” she said wiping the hair out of your face.

“Like it always does?” you question, your Ma had never been so mad when she was icky that she made you go away.

“Yeah but extra mad. But we have talked and she is going to try and not get so made when she is icky. Do you want to see her? I think she would like to see you,” you nodded hesitantly and you were carried into their room. The light was very dim in there, but your Ma could still see your red tear stained cheeks and your puffy eyes, and she felt very angry with herself.

“I’m super sorry Munchkin, I shouldn't have yelled at you to go away, you were only trying to see if I was okay,” she said as your Mum put you down on the bed, you didn't reply to her, but instead crawled over to her and curled into her side, falling asleep almost immediately. Your Ma was confused by you falling asleep so quickly, and furrowed her brows at your Mum who answered her.

“Sam messaged me this morning, said she didn’t sleep very well last night, go to sleep I might too, but let me know if you need anything please.”

“I love you, Cait, thank you, for everything,” Your Ma said, before your Mum leant over to place a quick kiss on her lips. They both quickly joined you in sleep.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #Katie McCabe x Child!Reader #Caitlin Foord x Child!Reader

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m3talmunson · 1 year

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Any reasonable person would think, with the sheer length of Eddie's hair, that he would have the slightest idea of how to care for it.

If you thought that, you'd be wrong. He was flying by the seat of his pants, with a bonus of simple luck. It was astonishing that his hair didn't get matted throughout day to day life, let alone the end of the world.

Yes, Eddie obviously went to a hospital after it all. Nobody could have survived that level substantial of injuries without it. But no matter the NDA's, or the "freedom from prosecution," as Dr. Owens puts it, it didn't come with a clean-wiped slate in the public eye.

So Eddie chose to lay low. He got the treatments that were deemed necessary by the doctors, and then he got the hell out of there.

At least, from all of this, Eddie learned only to run when he needed to.

Part of him was scared he and Wayne wouldn't be able to swing the bill. That part of him was satiated when Owens's team swung the bill and replaced the... mangled Munson trailer. These government reparations didn't anywhere near touch the damage that was done, but Wayne and Eddie would take what they could get. Like they always had. Of course, the universe saw fit that Eddie take a little more.

Eddie was told -putting it politely- to stay the fuck out of that trailer park. Just because his name was cleared legally doesn't mean he should be anywhere he would normally go about his business. Not for the next couple weeks, at least.

And Steve Harrington, ever so giving, offered up his home as sanctuary.

And of course, Eddie was immediately trying to find a way out of it. When that didn't work, he started asking how soon he needed to leave. He didn't want to feel like a burden, especially not to Steve.

"Stay as long as you need, Eds. Forever, for a little while, on and off, literally anything as long as I don't have to carry you out of hell again. That's the one condition."

Sure, living with Steve had it's perks. He had some semblance of privacy, walls with ANY soundproofing, and company. What more could a boy ask for, you would think.

Not living down the hall from his crush while looking like a walking nightmare, Eddie thought, was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask for. He did not get that.

Despite living in the same house as him, he avoided Steve like the plague. Steve had made it clear his 'what's mine is yours' attitude was open to Eddie, but Eddie preferred his room. His boxes from the old trailer were there, his guitar, his sanity (or what remains). The moment he limped his way out of that door, he was in the realm of Steve. And he did not feel up to the task of being presentable in front of his literal crush.

Still, Steve came into his room every so often. Eddie went to the hospital, but he wasn't magically better. Steve changed his bandages, helped him when he needed it, brought him homemade soup? Because, somehow, Eddie is in an alternate dimension where Steve Harrington is making him his grandma's chicken noodle soup recipe for him. And it is PHENOMENAL.

Eddie could have never expected any of the past month's events. He was still grappling with the fact that life would just... return to normal somehow after the end of the world.

He had enough on his plate. However, the universe thought fit to throw some more on.

During one of his Steve-check-ups™, Steve just absentmindedly mentioned something Eddie was dreading.

"How have you been dealing with all that hair? I mean it's been in a new bun every day this week but you can barely lift your arms?"

"Well, actually Steve," Eddie started, "I haven't. This is the same bun you put in on Wednesday." He tilted his head down, he didn't really want to look Steve in the eye when he said that.

"Well shit Eddie, what can I do to help?"

And wasn't it oh so nice when Steve looked up at him with those big eyes, knocking on the door of his soul. How could Eddie turn his gaze from that?

"What can be done? I can't wash it until these fuckers-" He pointed at the sides of his abdomen, to the bandages that Steve had just finished replacing, "have healed enough for me to lift my arms, which should be almost any time now. Then, we can take these bandages off, I can get out of your hair, and I can clean my own."

It was pretty obvious that neither of the men liked that agreement, but Eddie saw it as the only option. Wait a week, lift his arms, get the hell out of dodge. Easy enough.

"I could wash your hair. You know I know how to." Steve replied, a genuine offer, not a throwaway or handout that was just a kind gesture.

"No, Stevie, you don't need to worry about m-"

"Checkmate, I already do. You lock yourself in here except for food, I don't even feel like you're enjoying yourself! What's the point in breaking out of hell, fighting tooth and nail, just to sit in your room? C'mon Eddie, let me do one thing to make your life easier." Steve was interrogating him, but for his own good? And only two weeks ago he thought Steve was just some highschool douche that he just had a little crush on once upon a long time ago. Here he is, caring for him like they've known eachother for years.

"You do enough for me." Eddie hid the blush building on his face by looking to the ground across from Steve. Steve just moved his head there.

"I want to do more. I'm offering to do more."

"You're not going to let me say no, are you?"

"It's your hair, your body! But no, not really."

"Let's go," Eddie said, swinging his legs carefully over the edge of his bed.

And that's how Eddie ended up in a T-shirt and boxers, head laying back in the kitchen sink. He hadn't really gotten to the standing-for-long-periods-of-time point of recovery, so Steve pulled up a stool and a towel for Eddie's shoulders, and got ready to work above his head.

"I'll tell you when to put your head back, don't want to freeze you with the water."

Steve turned the faucet to the hottest setting, then throttled back a little. He carefully took Eddie's hair out and brushed through the ends. It had been in a bun for ages, so at least it didn't get knotted.

"I don't really know much about how curly hair works, but-"

"Oh me either," Eddie interrupted. "Barely even knew I had it. Don't worry about me big boy, no special treatment needed."

"Oh you're getting special treatment, whether you like it or not," Steve said. "Tilt your head back."

And so Eddie did. And he would be flat out lying if he said that he didn't love how gentle Steve's hands felt running across his scalp. He would be lying if he said he didn't like being pampered, just a little. He would be a liar if he told you that this wasn't somehow sensual, or that he wished it had more meaning.

Something about the way Steve was massaging his scalp made him think there could be.

"I'm gonna block your forehead from the water, just warning you." Steve used a cup to get the water to the base of Eddie's scalp, he was thorough with the details and everything.

It made Eddie feel loved. That's new.

Eddie nearly blacked out until it was done. He just soaked it all in, feeling cared for. He had felt cared for before, but never loved, not by someone who wasn't obligated to.

"Why do you do all of this for me?" Eddie truly wanted to know.

"Why shouldn't I?" He replied, as if it was nothing.

"Nobody does." Eddie wanted to say more, but now wasn't the time to throw a pity party and cry in front of Steve Harrington.

"All the more reason to."

"Harrington," Eddie tried to sit up as he talked, "you don't-"

Steve pushed him back down by the chest, conditioner and water soaking into his shirt.

"Don't strain yourself, seriously. Let me rinse this out, then you're free to go back to whatever you were doing." He left one hand on Eddie's chest, not keeping him down, but just resting there. Like he forgot about it, but it felt intentional.

Eddie dragged his hand up to Steve's on his chest.

"Thank you. Really," was all he could muster up without those tears rushing back.

"Of course, Eddie. Wouldn't rather be anywhere else." He continued to work around the ends of Eddie's hair, slowly turning the water off and doing some final slow scrunching motions with the towel not around Eddie's shoulders. "You're all done. Let me help you up."

Taking Eddie's hand in one of his and lifting from Eddie's back, he got Eddie sitting up right. The hand on his back let go, but not the hand in Eddie's.

"Well? Anything you usually do that I can help with?" Steve asked.

"You've done enough," Steve got ready to cut him off, but Eddie beat him to the punch, "I can't do any more without bending over, which is off the table. Seriously, Stevie, you've done more than enough. You've been insane amounts giving and patient with me. You've given me enough."

"I wish I could give more."

"I know."

"I could give more." Steve offered, ready to give all he had in the world.

"Steve," Eddie said, some type of begging look in his eyes, "I don't want to read too much into this but you've offered me more than I could reasonably take. You've given me sanctuary, food, care, what more is there?"

"Love."

Steve laid it all out on the table. All he had left to give was hope that Eddie would take it.

"Can I kiss you?" Eddie asked.

"Please."

And when Eddie took it, it was magical. Just for a moment, all the pain, and bad memories, and nightmares, they just stopped. Suddenly, for a second of time, their was no ring of pain around Steve's neck, no searing, or scorching, or stabbing in Eddie's sides.

Maybe Eddie won't live in Steve's house forever, but he might live in this moment forever.

~~~~~

Thank you to @warlordess for giving the prompt in the comments of my last post! SO sorry it took so unbelievably long, but my show finally closed! Everyone, feel free to leave any prompts in my asks from now on! All of my previous posts as well as this one will be on AO3 soon, then I'm going to make a pinned post with my account! Thank you all so much for the patience you graced me with, hopefully it won't happen again!

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie stranger things #steddie blurb #steddie drabble #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #stranger things #st4 spoilers #st4 fanfic

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