#MS LifeLines

[yashley]

"Yeah, but we talked about it and I didn’t want it." "Why not?" "Because it scared me."

[thedensworld]

Illogical Project | C.Sc

Pairing: Ceo! Seungcheol x reader

Genre: fluff, humor, stranger to crush

Summary: It was just a project to get rid of a side chick, but Seungcheol fall. Deeply.

I was having so much fun writing this! Part 2 yall ask is here

Seungcheol didn’t have to do this. But he needed to do it. Logic flew right out the window the moment he’d typed your name into the company group website. Imagine his surprise when your profile popped up, revealing you were part of the marketing team—under his own label, no less.

The woman sneaking around with his cousin’s fiancé was one of his employees?

Seungcheol let out a dry laugh. Well, this just got interesting. It shouldn’t be too hard to get rid of you.

It has been two years since Jiyeon, his cousin, and Jeonghan got engaged. Their engagement had been more of a business deal than a love story. And although Jiyeon’s engagement to Jeonghan was supposed to be purely transactional, it had been a lifesaver for Seungcheol. Thanks to her, he no longer had to endure his grandfather’s endless nagging about getting married.

But then, yesterday happened.

“Jeonghan’s been cheating on me!” Jiyeon had wailed, storming into his office like a whirlwind. Seungcheol hadn’t thought much of it—Jiyeon tended to exaggerate. He’d been about to brush it off with some nonchalant comment until she hit him with: “I think I’m going to call off the engagement.”

Hold up. What?

That wasn’t part of the plan. Jiyeon couldn’t break off the engagement! Without it, Seungcheol’s peace and freedom would go down the drain. He’d be right back to enduring those endless blind dates set up by his grandfather. Dinners with girls whose names he’d forget before dessert even arrived. Absolutely not.

Which led him to this moment, finding you—Jeonghan’s secret girlfriend. His smirk widened. If cutting you out of the picture meant keeping Jiyeon on board, then so be it. He’d convince you to take your cheating ways elsewhere.

Who would’ve thought his biggest problem was one of his own subordinates?

If anyone could see him now—Seungcheol, the company CEO, scrolling through employee profiles like a suspicious boyfriend—it would be mortifying. But hey, desperate times called for desperate measures. And there was no way he was letting his hard-earned freedom slip away because of Jeonghan’s wandering eyes and your sneaky rendezvous.

*

"Mr. Choi has been acting strange lately," your manager said as she returned from his office, a puzzled look on her face.

"He’s refused every ad plan we’ve pitched to him. And now he’s specifically asked for you to handle it."

Your brows shot up in surprise as you pointed at yourself. “Me?”

“Yes, you. He wants you in his office in ten minutes—with the best idea you can bring to the table.”

“Wait, ten minutes?!” You shot up from your chair, scrambling to find the folder you always kept at your desk. Panic set in as you grabbed your iPad—your lifeline filled with every concept, draft, and half-baked idea you’d ever had. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

Ms. Shin shrugged nonchalantly, already turning her attention back to her own tasks. “It slipped my mind. Good luck!”

You let out a frustrated sigh. Typical Ms. Shin. She was a perpetual headache wrapped up in business casual attire. Just yesterday, she’d dumped her entire presentation prep on you, claiming she was “too busy” to handle it herself. Never mind the fact that you were the one who’d developed almost every campaign concept the department had used for the past two years.

But still, you remained a shadow. Despite your efforts, you were practically invisible in the department—overworked and unnoticed.

As you rushed to the elevator, the thought crossed your mind: Why did Mr. Choi want to see you now?

Was he starting to see through Ms. Shin’s facade and realize where the real work was coming from? Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and anxiety. This could either be a breakthrough… or a complete disaster.

Jeonghan used to tell you a lot about Seungcheol, his college friend. From what you’d heard, Seungcheol was the embodiment of professionalism. He wouldn’t judge you for staying in the shadows to support your boss all these years, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating. The truth was, you didn’t know him well enough to understand what went on in his mind.

To you, Mr. Choi was just your boss’s boss—the executive you occasionally spotted from a distance as he strode through the office with that air of authority and responsibility. He was the face of Heidos Food, a man who commanded respect and led by example. His dedication and work ethic were part of the reason you’d decided to join this label among the Heidos Group’s many subsidiaries.

Taking a deep breath, you managed a smile at his secretary. “Mr. Choi is expecting me,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

The secretary gave a curt nod and led you to the door. You couldn’t help but feel small as you stood before it, staring at the imposing wood panel. The secretary knocked gently and stepped aside, motioning for you to enter.

This was it—your first time stepping into the office of the man who practically ran the entire division.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest as you took a deep breath and stepped inside.

What could he possibly want from me?

"It was disappointing, Ms. Ji."

Your heart sank as Mr. Choi’s voice sliced through the silence after you wrapped up the impromptu presentation.

“I don’t see your idea being as innovative as I expected. The format feels repetitive—similar to every program the marketing department has produced over the past few years.”

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to argue. How could you not? Internally, you were screaming. Of course, everything looked the same—they were all your ideas! Yet, it wasn’t like you could point that out to him.

Instead, you forced yourself to respond with a calm, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Choi tapped his pen thoughtfully against the desk, his gaze never leaving your face. “But,” he continued slowly, “it does have potential. It just needs a bit more… observation and refinement. Do you think you can handle this project, Ms. Ji? It’s rather risky.”

His question caught you off guard. Risky? Since when did Mr. Choi—who typically preferred playing it safe—assign risky projects to subordinates? Still, you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.

“I’m confident I can handle it, sir. If you trust me, I’ll deliver.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “Good. In that case, pack some clothes. We’re going to Singapore for a seminar tomorrow.”

What?!

You blinked at him, stunned. Singapore? Tomorrow? You hadn’t even processed what just happened before he dismissed you, turning his attention back to his paperwork as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

*

Seungcheol had no idea where your confidence came from. He’d incidentally overheard your phone conversation with Jeonghan earlier, and it was all sweet and annoyingly romantic.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t exactly accidental. Maybe he intentionally eavesdropped—just a little—but who could blame him? He couldn’t believe how bold you were to have such an intimate call with Jeonghan right in front of him.

So, people are right when they say love is thrilling when you’re playing with fire, he mused, his annoyance growing.

"You should pay attention to her more," he heard you say, your voice dropping to a softer tone that made Seungcheol’s scowl deepen.

Then you added, with a laugh that sounded entirely too carefree, "You’re right, I’m the better companion."

He felt his jaw clench involuntarily. Companion, huh? The nerve of you—being all cozy with Jeonghan right under his nose. He was already irritated by this whole situation, but now he had to endure your lovey-dovey chatter too?

“Alright, I gotta go. Bye... Have a nice day!” you finished, your voice as sweet as honey.

The moment you hung up, Seungcheol snapped himself into a more composed posture, acting as if he hadn’t just been caught leaning against the wall, listening like a gossip. He made a show of dropping himself onto the couch in front of you.

To his further irritation, you looked up with an even brighter smile.

“What should I do today, sir?” you asked, voice cheerful and professional, as if you hadn’t just been caught cooing over the phone.

Seungcheol had to think. There was really nothing too strenuous on the agenda for you today, but a part of him—call it the vindictive part—wanted to see you squirm, especially after witnessing your little show of affection for Jeonghan.

“Take notes on everything,” he ordered, watching your expression closely. “Mingle with everyone. Join every discussion. Since I’ll be attending a separate meeting, make sure you don’t make a fool out of our company. Got it?”

You nodded and jotted everything down like the diligent employee you were. “Okay, noted, sir.”

Seungcheol let out a sigh, not quite satisfied with the reaction—or lack thereof. “Can I trust you with this?”

Your smile remained unwavering as you met his gaze. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

Something about your calm composure only made him want to push you further.

How could you be this unbothered?

On the last day of the seminar, Seungcheol could hardly believe it when his company was presented with an award of appreciation—all thanks to your hard work over the past few days. He had known you were good, but he hadn’t expected you to exceed everyone’s expectations this much.

But what truly grated on his nerves was the way people kept talking about you: “That woman with brains, bravery, and beauty,” they said, almost in awe.

Is this a business seminar or some kind of beauty pageant? he grumbled internally, irritated by how many times he’d heard those words. Every time someone praised your creativity and wit, it felt like another jab. Yet, even he couldn’t deny you deserved the recognition. The achievement might have been unexpected, but it wasn’t entirely surprising.

Now, he found himself sitting at a high-end restaurant for lunch, just hours before their flight back to South Korea. You sat stiffly across from him, clearly uncomfortable. After refusing his invitation five times and trying to hitch a ride to the airport with his secretary instead, here you were—reluctantly.

“You can choose whatever you’d like, Ms. Ji. You’ve earned it,” Seungcheol said, not looking up from his menu as he spoke.

You mumbled a polite acknowledgment, your gaze glued to the menu. Seungcheol raised his hand to call the waitress over and glanced at you, waiting for your order. His eyes widened in surprise when you rattled off your request in perfect, fluent Malay.

“Wait—you can speak the language?” he asked, caught off guard.

You nodded casually. “Yes, I studied and graduated here.”

“Hmm,” Seungcheol murmured thoughtfully. He tapped his fingers against the table, considering your response. “With that kind of portfolio, you could easily settle into a bigger company. Why stay at Heidos Food?”

To his surprise, you shook your head, rejecting the notion. “No, Heidos Food is the perfect fit for me.”

Seungcheol raised a brow. He couldn’t tell if you were just being polite or genuinely meant it. “And why is that?”

You paused, looking a little hesitant before speaking. “Five years ago, I had just graduated, and I attended the company’s anniversary event with someone I knew. I saw your speech there—it was incredible. It motivated me to become a part of Heidos Foods. I applied several times, went through multiple interviews, and finally got my position three years ago.”

Seungcheol didn’t like the way your story painted him as an integral figure in your career choice. He didn’t want to think he was that important. And yet, there was no denying that something about the way you spoke made him pause. He found himself strangely flattered—and maybe a little more intrigued than he wanted to admit.

He glanced away, clearing his throat. Stop it, Seungcheol. She’s not special.

But the thought wouldn’t leave him. He kept stealing glances at you, wondering how he had overlooked these little details about you. Maybe there really was something to what everyone kept saying: brains, bravery, and beauty—all rolled into one package.

No, he told himself sternly. Focus.

Slowly, Seungcheol found himself losing sight of his initial motive for getting to know you better—the desire to uncover the truth behind your connection with Jeonghan. As he spent more time with you, your charm and intelligence began to weave a spell around him, shifting his focus from suspicion to genuine curiosity.

The more he learned about you, the more he realized how difficult it was to see you as just a subordinate or a rival in Jeonghan’s affections.

He hadn’t planned on feeling this way, and it unsettled him. What started as a calculated move to monitor your interactions had transformed into something entirely different.

Seungcheol caught himself daydreaming about your conversations, replaying moments that made him smile. He was drawn to you in ways he hadn’t expected, and that realization left him both exhilarated and confused.

As his initial purpose faded into the background, a new question took root in his mind: What if getting close to you had become the most intriguing project of all?

*

“Can you send Ms. Ji to my office after this? There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but she just left the building a few minutes ago due to personal business. She didn’t provide any details.”

Seungcheol nodded in frustration as Ms. Shin, your manager, wrapped up her paperwork. It had been two weeks since the two of you returned from the business trip, and he still found himself at a crossroads. He was working diligently to create a void that would justify getting rid of you, especially concerning your relationship with Jeonghan.

Alright, if he could be honest; he didn’t want to lose a gem like you from the company. The idea of you being Jeonghan’s “side chick” was almost infuriating, especially given your intelligence and undeniable beauty.

Yeah, Seungcheol couldn’t deny that your beauty truly shone when you were focused on your work, and he found it charming every time he handed you a new challenge.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a call from Jiyeon, his cousin. He picked it up, immediately greeted by her sobs.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.

“Jeonghan…” Jiyeon cried, her voice trembling as she choked out his name.

“What did that bastard do now?”

There was no immediate response, just the sound of her muffled cries. Then, through the tears, Seungcheol finally heard her say, “He had a car accident after we fought. He’s in the hospital now.”

Within moments, Seungcheol found himself standing outside the operating room with Jiyeon by his side. To his surprise, he spotted you sitting quietly in a corner, clearly distressed. So here you were, the “personal business” Ms. Shin had mentioned.

“Let’s get you something to drink,” he said gently, placing a reassuring hand on Jiyeon’s shoulder and guiding her away from the waiting area. He handed her a can of soda as they sat down together.

“We fought on the phone,” Jiyeon explained, her voice still shaky. “I mentioned his side chick, and he denied it. He said he had no one besides me. I didn’t believe him, and then he said he would explain everything when he came to my office, but he got into a car accident.”

Seungcheol nodded, processing her words. “Y/N was there,” he said, gesturing toward you in the corner. “Y/N. She’s the one Jeonghan was supposedly seeing,” he added, his voice laced with confusion.

Jiyeon’s brow furrowed in frustration as she shook her head. “No, they are siblings. They have the same mother,” she sobbed, her voice breaking under the weight of her emotions.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What? They’re siblings?”

“Yes,” Jiyeon replied, her expression a mixture of sadness and relief. “That explains everything. I thought he was cheating on me, but it turns out he was just trying to protect her.”

The weight of this shocking revelation shifted the tension in the room, leaving both of them momentarily speechless. Seungcheol leaned back against the wall, trying to digest the news.

Jiyeon wiped her tears, glancing toward you again. “I need to talk to her,” she said, determination filling her voice. “She deserves an explanation.”

Seungcheol nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe this would clear the air and mend the rift between you.

*

"Has she done this a lot to you?" Seungcheol heard your voice coming from inside the room as he and Jiyeon were about to enter. Both of them paused instinctively, hovering just outside the door.

"She accused you of cheating. She put you in this situation!" Your tone was laced with a rage Seungcheol had never heard from you before. There was an intensity, a fierceness in your voice that was completely unfamiliar to him.

"I could’ve lost you…”

Jeonghan’s voice was soft, barely audible, as if trying to calm you down. “I’m fine, Y/N. I promise. It’s not her fault.”

Jiyeon, who had been poised to enter the room, suddenly froze, her eyes widening in realization. She glanced at Seungcheol, and he could see the confusion and guilt reflecting in her gaze. Before she could turn away, you stepped out of the room, your eyes red and swollen. The sight of Seungcheol and Jiyeon standing there, having clearly overheard the conversation, caught you off guard, but you quickly composed yourself.

You cleared your throat and walked past them with your head held high, your expression a perfect mask of indifference, as if you didn’t realize—or perhaps didn’t care—that they’d been listening in.

Seungcheol watched you go, his mind spinning. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the college days when he and Jeonghan had shared a dorm room. As the only Korean students on campus, they naturally gravitated toward each other. He recalled Jeonghan often mentioning his younger sister—a sibling from the same mother who was in middle school at the time. Seungcheol had never met her, but from Jeonghan’s stories, it was clear how much he treasured her.

"I get a headache every time she doesn’t pick up my call!" Jeonghan would grumble late at night, throwing his phone down in frustration. “She’s so stubborn, but she’s all I’ve got.”

And now, it all clicked into place. The sister Jeonghan had spoken of so fondly, the one he worried about constantly, was you. You, the woman who had captivated his attention with your intelligence and charm, were Jeonghan’s sister. Someone who had been right under his nose this entire time.

*

The hum of the office printer was the only sound in the room as you carefully gathered the documents you needed to submit. Steeling yourself, you walked to Seungcheol’s office and knocked gently before stepping inside.

Seungcheol glanced up from his computer when he heard the door open. The usual lighthearted banter that had developed between the two of you was noticeably absent as you approached his desk and placed the file in front of him.

“Here’s the proposal, sir. It needs your signature,” you said softly, keeping your eyes on the document and not on him.

Seungcheol picked up the pen, his gaze shifting between the file and your calm, composed demeanor. After scribbling his signature on the dotted line, he cleared his throat, an awkward tension hanging between you two.

“Is… Jeonghan doing better?” Seungcheol asked cautiously, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice finally holding a hint of warmth. “He’s recovering well. The doctors said he’ll be discharged tomorrow.”

Seungcheol nodded, a small wave of relief washing over him. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad he’s getting better. If you need more time off, just let me know. I know you’ve been the one taking care of him.”

You shook your head gently. “No, thank you. There’s already an assigned nurse for him. I’ll be back to work as usual.”

The air between you two was thick with unspoken words and awkwardness. Seungcheol felt the weight of everything he had said and done, of the suspicion that had once tainted every interaction he’d had with you. He knew it was his fault the dynamic between you had shifted so drastically, and now, he was fumbling, unsure of how to bridge the gap he had created.

“I—” Seungcheol hesitated, his usual poise and confidence faltering. “I know I messed up… and I don’t blame you if things don’t go back to the way they were. I just… I miss the way we used to work together, the way we used to talk.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. But even then, you didn’t respond with the same enthusiasm you used to. Instead, you offered him a small, understanding smile.

“Thank you for understanding, sir,” was all you said before you excused yourself and walked out of his office.

Seungcheol watched you go, the emptiness in his chest expanding. He had been wrong—terribly, embarrassingly wrong—and now he was paying the price for his foolish assumptions. He had shattered the easy camaraderie that once existed between you, and now, he was left with the cold, polite exchanges that felt more like a punishment than anything else.

You were here, right in front of him, but you felt more distant than ever.

*

You knew exactly what had been happening to you, but you tried to deny it until it finally affected you like it did today. Ms. Shin had already lectured you with words you never imagined she would use, all because of a rare moment of clumsiness that you didn’t even see coming. You had too much on your plate, and the project Mr. Choi had assigned to you was nearing its deadline. In the midst of it all, you accidentally forgot to send an anniversary message to one of your most loyal clients, and Ms. Shin had to do damage control.

“They were very offended, Y/N,” Ms. Shin snapped, her voice carrying throughout the office as she reprimanded you in front of everyone. You stood there, hands clasped in front of you, listening to her and internally cursing yourself for letting things slip, all because you couldn’t get Mr. Choi’s words out of your mind.

“I miss the way we used to work together.”

“I miss—”

“I’ll be reporting this to HR. I can’t handle this kind of negligence anymore.” Ms. Shin concluded sharply, her words reverberating through the office. A collective gasp came from your colleagues, who were too stunned to react.

Later that day, you found yourself sitting in the HR director’s office, replaying Ms. Shin’s words in your mind. You expected another round of the same scolding, but what came next blindsided you completely.

“We’ve received reports about you neglecting your responsibilities over the past three months, and unfortunately, we can’t tolerate this any longer. Please clear your desk before the workday ends,” the HR director said, his tone dismissive.

“What?” The shock was apparent on your face. No warning letter, no opportunity to explain—just an immediate termination.

“You’re firing me?” you whispered, still in disbelief.

“Effective immediately.” His tone was final, and there was no room for negotiation. You were jobless. Just like that.

You felt a scream building up inside you, a storm of emotions you didn’t know how to release. Anger, frustration, betrayal—every word they’d said felt unfair, and you were powerless to fight it. Who were you to contest it? Just another employee, replaceable, forgotten.

By the time you made it home, Jeonghan was the first to greet you, his face lighting up in surprise. “You’re home early?” he chirped, clearly not expecting you at this hour. Ever since he was discharged from the hospital, he had been staying at your place, recovering until he could get around without any help.

His smile quickly faded when he noticed the cardboard box in your hands. His expression crumpled with worry as you dropped the box onto the table with a heavy thud. “Are you… fired?” Jeonghan asked hesitantly, as if he couldn’t believe his own words.

You nodded, letting out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, they fired me. Fuck Heidos. I’m going to start my own advertising company!”

Jeonghan blinked, caught off guard by your outburst. “Alright, slow down. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but what happened?” he asked, concern lacing his tone.

You shrugged, collapsing onto the couch in exhaustion. The last thing you wanted was to relive today’s events by recounting them to your brother. You just wanted to forget.

“Does Seungcheol know about this?” Jeonghan pressed on, not noticing how drained you were. “He told me you were handling a project together. Was this his decision?”

“Do you need a marketing staff?” you deflected, throwing the question back at him, trying to steer the conversation away.

“No, I don’t. But if you’re interested, I can make some room for you.”

You shook your head immediately. The last thing you wanted was to work for your brother’s company out of pity or nepotism. It wasn’t like you hadn’t considered it before, but joining his business now would feel like a defeat.

“I told you, you could’ve joined my company from the start,” Jeonghan murmured softly, his tone far gentler than before. “The Heidos you were so proud of has finally turned its back on you, huh?”

You groaned and stood up abruptly, your heavy steps echoing through the small living room as you stormed off to your bedroom. You slammed the door behind you, cutting off whatever else Jeonghan had to say.

“Yeah, Heidos finally threw me out,” you muttered bitterly to yourself as you leaned against the door. The company you had dreamed of working for, the place you’d given your blood, sweat, and tears for over the years—had thrown you out without so much as a second thought.

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. This was the company you had stayed up nights for, the one you’d gone above and beyond for every single day. You’d fought your way in, made a name for yourself, only to be discarded like you were nothing.

And all you could think about was how everything had spiraled ever since that conversation with Seungcheol. How his simple words had shaken your confidence, distracted you, and caused this downward spiral.

But the worst part?

You still cared what he thought.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall as Jeonghan's words replayed in your mind, taunting you.

Heidos finally turned its back on you.

Was that it, though? Was it really the company you were angry with? Or was there something more?

Your gaze dropped to the floor as a bitter realization crept in. Were you really interested in Heidos all along? Or was it Mr. Choi?

You closed your eyes and let out a slow breath, your thoughts drifting back to the first time you saw him in person. It was during Heidos’s anniversary gala, a grand event that showcased the company's milestones.

But there he was—Choi Seungcheol, the CEO’s son, standing on the grand stage, delivering a speech with the kind of charisma that made everyone hang on to his every word. He talked about vision, about passion, about how Heidos wasn’t just a business—it was a dream they all built together.

You remembered the way his eyes scanned the room as if acknowledging everyone’s efforts personally, his voice carrying conviction and authority. He seemed approachable yet untouchable at the same time. There was a spark in him that drew you in, like a flame you couldn’t help but be mesmerized by, even if it meant risking getting burned.

When he mentioned the value of individual contributions, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself as one of those valued employees he spoke of. That night, you had felt an overwhelming sense of pride, a hope that you, too, could be part of something bigger. Part of his vision. It made you work harder, push through every obstacle, and make a name for yourself in the company.

But what if, beneath all those aspirations, it was his approval you were really after?

Had it always been about earning a place at Heidos, or had it been about being acknowledged by him? Did your heart race because of the accomplishments, or was it because of the fleeting interactions you had with him?

You tried to shake off the thoughts, but the memories kept flooding back.

There was the time he complimented your work during a company meeting, the way he’d asked for your opinion during a discussion, and, of course, the project where you saw a different side of him—where he was more than just the stern, high-and-mighty executive everyone knew him as.

"I miss the way we used to work together."

His words echoed in your mind, laced with regret and something you couldn’t quite place. Had you let those words affect you more than they should have? Had you crossed a line somewhere between professionalism and personal admiration?

You huffed out a breath and rubbed your face with your hands. It was hard to admit, but maybe you were chasing after more than just a career.

Maybe it was a person.

“Are you really that naive?” you muttered to yourself, almost laughing at how pathetic it sounded. “You got yourself fired because you couldn’t get over a few words from Choi Seungcheol. Great job, Y/N.”

What had you been thinking? That you meant something more to him? That the way he looked at you was anything other than superficial interest? Maybe you’d been reading into things too much, letting your emotions cloud your judgment.

After all, the way he’d treated you—suspicious, distrustful, wary—it all pointed to how little he thought of you. You were a pawn in his game of protecting Jiyeon. The only reason he ever looked your way was because he thought you were a threat.

And yet… you wanted to believe there had been something more. Something genuine. But now, everything felt tainted.

Because if Heidos was no longer an option, then you’d just have to prove to yourself that you could rise even without the company’s name backing you up.

But first, you’d have to figure out a way to keep your heart in check—especially when it came to him.

“Forget it, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, staring at your reflection in the bedroom mirror. “Forget about Choi Seungcheol. He was never part of your plan, anyway.”

*

It was his first day back in the office after a week-long business trip, and Seungcheol finally had a chance to sit down and get back into his routine. His secretary entered the room with his usual coffee, already prepared with a list of updates and meetings for the day. He rattled them off efficiently, detailing every appointment and task Seungcheol needed to be aware of.

“I want to know the update on the project Ms. Ji is handling,” Seungcheol said, glancing at the folder in front of him, half-expecting to see her familiar name.

There was a brief pause, and when his secretary responded, the answer was something Seungcheol never anticipated.

“She’s no longer part of our staff, sir.”

Seungcheol frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. “What do you mean?” he asked, the question carrying a sharp edge.

“She was terminated a week ago due to negligence in fulfilling her responsibilities,” the secretary explained carefully. “The report came from Ms. Shin, and HR approved it immediately.”

Seungcheol’s scowl deepened, the irritation evident in the tightening of his jaw. He leaned back in his chair, processing the information. “Ms. Ji was managing a critical project with me,” he said, his voice lowering. “Her status required my approval. How is it possible I wasn’t informed about this?”

His secretary’s shoulders tensed, and he hesitated before replying, “I’m terribly sorry, sir. You were occupied with meetings and engagements throughout the week, and I only received the details two days ago myself.”

“Busy or not, I should have been notified immediately.” Seungcheol’s voice was dangerously calm. He glanced at the stack of files on his desk, his mind already racing to piece together what could’ve gone wrong. “I want Ms. Shin and Mr. Kim from HR in my office—now.”

“Yes, sir,” the secretary replied quickly, bowing slightly before leaving the room to carry out Seungcheol’s orders.

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted to the half-empty coffee cup, his thoughts a blur of anger and disbelief. Fired? For negligence? That didn’t add up. He knew you weren't perfect, but you were dedicated and thorough. You had handled complex projects before, and while you had your flaws, negligence was never one of them.

Something wasn’t right.

The door opened again a few minutes later, and Ms. Shin walked in, followed closely by Mr. Kim. Both looked apprehensive, likely sensing the storm brewing from the tension in the air.

“Explain,” Seungcheol said without preamble, his eyes fixed on Ms. Shin. “Why was Ms. Ji terminated, and why was I not informed?”

Ms. Shin cleared her throat, meeting his gaze with a strained smile. “Sir, there were multiple instances where Ms. Ji failed to meet her deadlines and deliverables, which impacted the team’s performance. I reported this to HR, and after reviewing her recent performance records, they decided to let her go.”

“And whose idea was it to keep this from me?” Seungcheol’s voice was low and dangerous.

“We didn’t intend to keep it from you, sir,” Mr. Kim interjected cautiously.

“The decision was made quickly due to the urgency of the situation. Given that you were away and Ms. Shin was the acting supervisor for that period, we thought it best to handle it internally until we could brief you properly.”

Seungcheol’s gaze shifted between the two of them, his displeasure evident. “I don’t appreciate decisions being made without my knowledge, especially when it concerns a project directly under my supervision. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” they both answered in unison, looking visibly uncomfortable.

“Ms. Ji was fired without a formal warning or disciplinary review?” Seungcheol continued, his voice hardening. “Was she given no chance to explain herself or defend her performance?”

Ms. Shin shifted uneasily, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Sir, she had been making several mistakes, and her focus seemed to be elsewhere. It was affecting her work quality. We couldn’t afford to let it slide any longer.”

“Was this decision truly about her work, or something else?” Seungcheol pressed, his gaze narrowing. “Because from what I’ve seen, she was one of the most consistent performers on the team. I want a full report on the matter by the end of today.”

“Yes, sir,” Mr. Kim replied quickly, while Ms. Shin’s jaw tightened, her frustration barely masked.

“Dismissed,” Seungcheol said curtly, waving them out of his office.

*

You practically jumped out of your bed when you saw an incoming call from Mr. Choi flash across your phone screen. Heart racing, you scrambled to sit up straight before answering.

“I’m outside your place.”

What?

You blinked, staring at yourself in the mirror in disbelief. Just moments ago, you had been in a post-drama-marathon daze, slouched in bed after indulging in a series binge you could never afford the time for before. And now, the very man who occupied your thoughts far more than he should—the Choi Seungcheol—was calling to announce that he was outside your apartment?

“Uh—can you give me ten minutes? I’m not exactly looking presentable at the moment,” you stammered, glancing down at your wrinkled pajamas and messy hair. Your reflection screamed “I-just-woke-up” and “don’t-look-at-me”.

“I—what I mean is!” You quickly corrected yourself, flustered. “I just woke up, so I might look a little… disgusting.”

The last word fell out awkwardly, and you cringed inwardly. Of all the words you could’ve chosen…

“Take your time, Ms. Ji.” His voice was calm, almost amused. You heard the call click off, leaving you in stunned silence.

Oh God, what was he doing here?

You dashed into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and washing your face in record time. The face staring back at you looked different now—the long hair you used to style meticulously was gone, impulsively cut to shoulder length last week in a fit of frustration and exhaustion. You sighed and brushed it diligently, making it look as presentable as possible. Changing out of your pajamas into something more decent—a casual blouse and jeans—you took a deep breath before heading outside.

Stepping out of your building, you spotted his sleek car parked along the road, and there he was—slipping out of the driver’s seat, looking effortlessly handsome despite the casualness of his attire. His usual sharp suit was gone, replaced by a simple white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even without the formal suit jacket, his presence seemed to dominate the entire street. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, struggling to reconcile this man’s unexpected appearance outside your home with the same person you admired from afar at work.

Focus, Y/N.

“How are you?” Seungcheol asked, his gaze soft as it met yours.

You couldn’t bring yourself to answer verbally, so you just nodded stiffly, offering a tight smile. The truth was, you weren’t okay—not even close. And a part of you wanted him to understand that without you having to spell it out. But another part of you was wary, unsure how much he even knew or cared about what happened.

“I just found out about your termination this morning,” he began, and you blinked in surprise. You hadn’t expected this to be the topic of conversation. “I’m so sorry.”

You stood there, rooted in place as you stared at him. What was going on?

“I shouldn’t have let Ms. Shin handle things like that,” he continued, voice low, the frustration evident in his tone. “I knew she’s been trying to drag you down all this time. I knew you were the one carrying the department, handling all the toughest projects… That’s why I’m sorry.”

The Choi Seungcheol, the man who exuded confidence and charisma at every turn, now looked uncharacteristically small and uncertain standing before you. The apology caught you off guard. You had prepared yourself for cold professionalism, or maybe even indifference. But not this.

“I won’t force you to come back to the company,” he said gently. “That’s entirely your choice.”

He paused, looking as if he was weighing his next words carefully, then took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to lose the chance to tell you…”

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity in his gaze making it hard to breathe.

“I might like you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. “Romantically.”

What?!

The world seemed to freeze around you as you stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. Seungcheol… liked you? The very same Choi Seungcheol who spent years being distant and impossible to read? He liked you, romantically? This couldn’t be real.

“I—I don’t know when it happened,” he continued, his expression a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. “But somewhere along the way, I realized I was looking forward to seeing you every day. You were more than just a competent employee; you were someone I admired. And then… I started to miss you.”

The sincerity in his words left you speechless. You glanced down, unable to meet his gaze as you tried to figure out what to say. Was it possible that you hadn’t just admired him from afar but had harbored deeper feelings too?

“I understand if this is too much for you right now,” he said softly, stepping back as if to give you space. “I just needed you to know… I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when I should’ve been. And I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this because of me.”

His voice was gentle, and for a moment, the street around you seemed to blur, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in this unexpected moment.

What could you possibly say? Words failed you, so you did the only thing you could—you nodded, acknowledging his apology and his confession, still unsure if you were dreaming or awake.

“Thank you… for telling me,” you managed to say quietly.

Things could never go back to the way they used to be.

[yawnderu]

>bimbo!reader falls in love with a new cat.

“Y'already have Ms. Whiskers, baby. Can't have another one.” Simon insists gently, trying his best to keep you from trying to adopt the giant Maine Coon that you somehow found.

“Look at him, Si! He's begging to be adopted.” The cat looks more like a grown man than a feline— he secretly bets it has a very deep meow.

“He's gonna eat Whiskers.” He insists, earning a small smack on the arm at the suggestion. Sure, Ms. Whiskers is a tiny birman, but this cat would definitely not eat her. He's cuddling up to you, and Simon can swear that the bastard is somehow being smug about it.

“Albert Whiskers.” You look down at the cat, petting his long, blond fur as he clings to you like a lifeline, sweet meows and purrs leaving his body.

“... as in Albert Wesker?” He's seen the Resident Evil movies about 20 times with you, listening to your rants about them and seeing you fawn over how cool the characters are.

“Mhm.” You only look at Simon when you try to plant a kiss on the cat's head and he prevents it, making you kiss his palm instead.

“Let's bathe the thing first.” He says with a small sigh, already accepting the new family member. He can't say no to you, but he at least was able to resist for a hot minute... that's a new record.

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[p0orbaby]

Not Nineteen Forever

summary: co-parenting with two kids? light work

warnings: are exes a warning ?

a/n: i smell reconciliation in the air…

word count: 1.1k

-

“He’s forgotten his boots? What time is his lesson? No sorry don’t answer that, I’ve got meetings for the rest of the day, I can’t leave the office. Can he play in his school shoes? Can I just ask, have you tried getting in contact with Alexia? No, you just called me, got it. Well it looks like he will have to miss football then doesn’t it. Yes, it’s such a shame! Okay, thank you, bye”

You hang up and smash the phone back into its receiver, frustration boiling over. This is the third time this month something has come up with the kids while you are at work. Balancing a full-time job and single parenthood was taking its toll. You sigh, running a hand through your hair, and try to refocus on the mountain of tasks waiting for you.

It has been a year since you and Alexia divorced. The decision was mutual, borne out of necessity rather than any particular wrongdoing. Her career had always been demanding, but as she rose to greater heights, the time she could spend at home dwindled to almost nothing. The distance, both physical and emotional, had grown insurmountable. You had drifted apart, slowly and painfully.

The kids have taken the separation surprisingly well. They are resilient, adapting quickly to the new arrangement of split weeks and alternating weekends. But despite their brave faces, you can see the strain it puts on them. You miss the days when the four of you were a team, tackling life’s challenges together.

As you stare at your computer screen, trying to immerse yourself back into work, the phone rings again. It was the school. Again.

“You should have Alexia’s number on file but if you need me to confirm-“

“I’m sorry?”

“Luis’ boots. If it’s that much of a problem I’m sure my wife- ex wife, can drop them off”

“Apologies Ms Putellas, but I'm ringing about your daughter. This is the school nurse…”

-

You arrive at the school to find Alexia already there, uncharacteristically nervous as she waits. Despite everything, she always manages to be present when it truly matters. It’s one of the things you admire most about her, and also one of the most frustrating – her ability to show up at the critical moments, even if she couldn’t be there for the day-to-day.

Silently you’re both ushered into the head's office, where your daughter sits with a bandaged arm and teary eyes.

“How did this happen?” you ask suddenly, directing your question to the principal as you crouch down to inspect Liliana.

“She was climbing on the monkey bars and lost her grip,” the older woman explains. “It was an accident. She’ll be fine, but we thought it best to have you both here, given the circumstances”

“An accident?” Alexia echoes sharply, her voice edged with anger she normally only reserves for the pitch. “She’s only four! Why wasn’t she being supervised properly?”

The principal shifts uncomfortably. “We do our best to keep an eye on all the children, but sometimes with kids these things happen. We deeply apologise for any distress this has caused”

Alexia’s face tightens with frustration. “My daughter could have been seriously hurt!”

You place a calming hand on Alexia’s arm, feeling the tension radiating from her as she fizzes on the spot. “Ale,” you say softly. “We can talk about this later”

Alexia finally takes a deep breath, her eyes softening as she looks at Liliana, who is now clinging to her like a lifeline. “Are you okay, Cariño?” she asks, her voice gentler for your daughter's sake.

Liliana nods, though her eyes are still wet with leftover tears. “It hurts, Mami.”

The principal nods. “She’ll need some ice and rest, but otherwise, she should be okay. We just wanted to make sure you both were informed and could decide if she should go home for the rest of the day”

You glance at Alexia, your mind racing. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to make a decision like this together. “Do you think she should come home?” you ask.

Alexia looks down at Liliana who hugs at her leg, thinking as she strokes the top of her head. “I have the afternoon off. I can take her and keep an eye on her”

You’re surprised. “You have time off? I thought you had training”

“I managed to get the rest of the day cleared,” she says, her eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to be here”

For a moment, the tension between you eases, replaced by a shared concern for your child. You nod, before turning to the woman sitting behind her desk. “We’ll take Luis with us too”

The principal smiles, relieved. “Thank you both for coming in. We’ll make sure her things are ready to go”

-

“I finish at five, I’ll come straight here after” you say as the kids run past you into Alexia’s house. Liliana magically healed at the thought of being able to miss the rest of the school day.

Alexia watches them go, then turns back to you with a look that’s hard to read. “I know it’s been… different”

“Yeah, different is one way to put it,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, inoffensive. “But we’re making it work”

She nods, her gaze drifting to the door where the kids disappeared. “They seem happy. That’s what matters”

You follow her eyes, watching the kids through the window to where they’ve migrated to the garden. “They’re stronger than we give them credit for. It’s us adults who complicate things”

Alexia laughs softly. “Isn’t that the truth?”

There’s a moment of silence, filled with all the words neither of you have dared to say. Eventually, Alexia breaks it. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about everything”

You feel a twinge of something you can’t quite identify, hope maybe, but you push it aside. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says, her eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your cheeks flush. “I miss them. And I miss… us”

You swallow hard, trying to bat away the emotions rising hopelessly within you. “Alexia, we’ve talked about this. Your career, my job, it just didn’t work”

“I know,” she replies, frustration creeping into her tone. “But just because it didn’t work then doesn’t mean it can’t work now. People change. Situations change”

You sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t know, Alexia. It’s not that simple”

She steps closer, a dangerous move. You can smell the lingering scent of her soap, the gum she chews. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated either”

You look at her, feeling the familiar pull you’ve tried to ignore for the past year. “I need to get back,” you say finally, peeling yourself away from her.

[stiles24]

Right on Time. | e.m.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (f)reader.

Summary: Eddie's best friend comes to the rescue when a certain 'fan' of his band just won't quit.

-----

Rushing through the doors of The Hideout, you're greeted first by the familiar rush of smokey air, and then the gruff smile of Nick the bouncer. Squeezing his arm as you walked past, something near the stage caught your eye.

Gareth had spotted you the moment you walked in, and was now waving frantically. Subtlety had never been his strong point, and today was no different. As each step took you closer to him, his eyes darted between you, and the side of the stage.

"Where's the fire, G?"

Following his gaze, it took only seconds to zero in on the source of his panic.

Eddie was kneeling at the edge of the stage, tonight's setlist clutched tightly in his ringed fingers like a lifeline. Leaning dangerously close to him was the She-Devil, dressed in her usual skin-tight clothing. Her real name was Tiffany, and she'd graduated from Hawkins High a few years earlier. She had a thing for guys in bands, and apparently, Eddie was really doing it for her these days.

Tiffany had been to the last four Corroded Coffin shows, each time doing more and more to get Eddie's attention. To her, this seemed to mean wearing less clothing, and invading Eddie's personal space more. You'd been a little surprised when Eddie had brushed her off the first week, but it was clear that he wasn't interested, something she wasn't, or didn't care to understand.

The first time she'd shown up to one of their shows with a few friends, it had earned Jeff a punch to the chest while the boys were packing up. He'd joked that you had competition for the title of their number one fan. You'd not so politely reminded him that you were their first, number one, and sometimes only fan, and that if he ever disrespected you like that again, you might slip and tell Ms. Dunne the math teacher about the dream of his she'd starred in.

Looking back at Gareth, he gestured wildly.

"You have to do something!" He went as far as to grab you by the shoulders and shake. "You have to save him."

"First of all, you've been reading too many fantasy novels, Gar. You need to take a breath."

It made you laugh a little as you watched your friend visibly inhale, as if it was the first time in a while that he'd done so.

Looking back over your shoulder, you took a breath of your own, trying to come up with an idea. Though you weren't above violence, The Hideout wasn't the place for it. You didn't want Nick to have to get involved, and it'd be a pain in the ass for the boys to have to find a new place to play for five drunks each week.

If you were being honest, you didn't want to get involved either, but Eddie looked like a drowning man, and as his best friend, you were almost legally obligated to help him in this situation. He winced as Tiffany ran a blood red nail down his arm, and that was the final hit of courage you needed. You just hoped what you were about to do wasn't going to blow up in your face.

Steeling yourself with a few deep breaths, you gave Gareth's arm a final squeeze and turned to where Eddie was in She-Devil's clutches.

"Hey, handsome!" Eddie's head whipped towards you at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide.

Before you could second guess your actions, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes, and grabbed Eddie's collar, pulling him close enough to press your lips to his own.

The kiss was quick, over before it had really begun, but Eddie's hand came up to circle your wrist, his rings cool against your heated skin. When his eyes opened, you widened your own, pleading silently with him to play along.

A scoff came from behind you, and you called on everything you'd learned in tenth grade drama class as you turned to face the She-Devil herself.

"Oh, hi! I hope I'm not interrupting. It's just so hard to keep my hands off this guy when he's in the same room." Before she could say anything, you looked back over your shoulder to Eddie, who was trying his hardest not to laugh. "Sorry I'm late, baby. Heather just kept talking about her boyfriend instead of helping me close up, when all I wanted to do was get here to see mine."

At the insinuation that Eddie was your boyfriend, two things happened. Eddie's arm snaked around your shoulders from behind, and Tiffany huffed loudly, before turning to stomp away towards the bar. Once she was out of earshot, you turned to face him, raising an eyebrow.

"Mission accomplished?"

Instead of saying anything, Eddie slid himself off the edge of the stage, coming to rest directly in front of you.

"You-you kissed me."

"I know, Eds. I was there. I'm sorry. I just couldn't think of anything else, and you looked like you needed help, and-"

"You wanna do it again?"

It was pointless to try stopping the blush that spread across your cheeks, so you buried your face into Eddie's chest, feeling the rumble of his laughter. Folding you into his arms, a calloused hand found a home on the sliver of skin at the base of your spine, making it very hard for you to think.

"My hero," he whispered into the crown of your head.

"Sorry I was late,"

Pulling back a little, he shook his head.

"Nah, you were right on time."

[azsazz]

Strips and Sutures

Daddy!Cassian x Reader

Summary: Cassian helps stitch up his daughters doll.

Warnings: None, fluff!

Word Count: 1,208

_________________________________________

“Daddy! Daddy!” The screams for him are ones he hopes he never has to familiarize himself with. Choked cries for help through shaky breaths on lungs too little to sound so loud.

Cassian’s heart screeches to a halt in his chest. His fingers clench around the utensils he’s using to swipe jam onto a slice of bread for his daughter’s lunch. The blunt butterknife isn’t his first choice of a weapon but he could make it work, has made less work. He knows there’s no intruder in his home, you had taken Gideon and Castor to school today and were running some errands in town, leaving Cassian and your youngest daughter, Sif, to some time alone.

The metal clangs loudly against the countertop as he darts from his station, the snack splattering on the stone with a squelch by the time he’s through the doorway, on his way to find his daughter. He can hear her little feet pattering his way and he slows his pace so he doesn’t go barreling into her.

He’d only left her alone for hardly a minute, how could something have gone so wrong already?

“Sif?” He calls out, halting with warrior-like quickness as his daughter rounds the corner, stumbling right into his legs. She buries her face into his shin, wrapping her arms around his calf with surprising strength for a four-year-old.

She has fat tears rolling down her ruddy cheeks and it takes some effort to pluck her from his pants to cradle her in his arms, the doll she’s clasping to sweeping up with her. A quick scan proves nothing wrong; no cuts or bruises to be seen, and Cassian brushes away her unruly hair sticking to her cheeks.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you hurt?” He asks because he doesn’t know what else to do. She’s full on sobbing now, hugging the doll tightly to her chest like a lifeline. The sight makes his heart ache, he’ll do anything to see her happy.

He’s a split second away from calling out to Rhys or alerting you through the bond because of the absolute pain rushing through his veins. Cassian’s become accustomed to the accidents and cries of his children, but it never gets easier.

“No,” Sif sniffles, blinking the tears from her big, beautiful hazel eyes. She holds up her doll but it’s much too close to his face to be able to see what she’s pointing out. “But Ms. Genavieve is!”

Cassian leans away, uncrossing his eyes to see the slight tear in the little doll, right where her arm and body meet. He lets loose a breath, shoulders melting in relief because Sif is perfectly in one piece, even if her toy isn’t.

“My poor baby,” Cassian coos, brushing her hot cheeks, wet with tears, once more. He rocks her against his chest, soothing the upset babe in his arms, pressing kisses to her forehead. “Daddy can fix her, don’t you worry.”

Tears line her eyes as she looks from the doll to him, and Cassian wants to cry at the way her little lip juts out in a pout, wobbling as she questions him. “You can?”

“Of course, pretty girl,” he soothes, “Let’s find mommy’s sewing kit and then I’ll finish your lunch. You can eat while I sew up Ms. Genavieve.”

“Okay,” she nods, fingering the threads hanging loose from her doll.

Cassian carries her throughout the house, beelining for the closet he knows you keep all of the miscellaneous supplies within the home. Sewing kit, medical box, art supplies, and games line the shelves, overwhelming in itself. 

He lets loose a sigh, beginning his search.

“Come on mommy, come on mommy,” he mutters, scanning the shelves, shoving things out of the way. “Where is it? Ah-ha!”

Sif giggles at his excitement, pulling the kit from the shelf. Cassian kicks the door shut, cringing when he hears something clatter to the ground on the other side.

He’ll blame it on Gideon when he gets home.

They make their way back to the kitchen where Cassian sets Sif in her seat, pulling it up to the counter. He rounds the counter, grimacing at the half of the sandwich that landed face down on the counter. Sif giggles, still holding her doll tightly to her chest as Cassian shrugs, folding the bread in half and stuffing it in his mouth as he reaches for a fresh slice for his daughter.

“Can’t let that go to waste now, right Siffy?” he mumbles through the mouthful.

She wrinkles her nose in response, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, daddy.”

Yep. Definitely her mother’s daughter.

He makes quick work of making her sandwich, humming and making silly faces to keep her happy while he does so. Sliding the plate across the counter to her makes Sif giggle and his heart soar. He fills a cup with milk for her to sip on and clears his station before setting it all up for Ms. Genavieve’s procedure.

Cassian matches the strand to the color of the fabric, and threads the needle and sets the doll before him, all of the supplies he needs are ready by the kit should he need them.

He takes a deep breath, glancing up to his daughter who has her sandwich occupying both hands, a tiny bite taken from the middle of it. Sif chews while she watches intensely, waiting for him to make his first move and it makes him more nervous than it should. He doesn’t want to disappoint his little girl.

Cassian stares at the tear. It’s not big by any means, and Mother be damned if he’s going to wait for you to get home or ask one of the wraiths to help him. He’s sewed up injuries plenty of times, when he’d been on missions or in wars and needed to quickly close a wound so he wouldn’t bleed out before getting to a healer. He’d even patched up Az once, back when they were teens and the shadowsinger was much too nervous to go to the medical tent because of the pretty girl that he couldn’t seem to stay away from. 

The shadowsinger wouldn’t let him near with a needle since. 

“Right,” he mutters, lowering the needle, “Nice and easy now.”

The first stitch is the worst, but Sif doesn’t make any noises to tell him he’s doing it wrong so he keeps going, keeping focused on the task at hand. He makes the suture as straight as possible, taking his time to align them perfectly, not skipping over any areas and pulling the thread tight before tying it off with perfection. 

“Well, little Miss Sif, I think Ms. Genavieve is very happy to once again have her arm at full capacity,” Cassian boasts, holding up her doll like a trophy. Sif cheers from her seat, making grabby hands for the toy and he hands it over before realizing with a start that she’s probably a mess from her lunch.

Indeed, she smiles, hugging the doll tightly to her chest and rubbing her jam-smeared face against the cloth toy. He cringes, sighing as he packs away the sewing kit.

“I suppose we should get Ms. Genavieve in the bath now, right, Siffy?”

[brogatory]

ms roxanne meow, how did you know him ? i dont think youve explained that bit …

Anonymous asked: Oh you know Dirk. Pining for his lost puppet. Good riddance.

...

Something tells me to tell you.

...

...

We were hospitalized around the same time. We were... 16?

I saw him sitting alone, at a table. The others kept a wide berth.

Holding a puppet like a lifeline.

I was told he was dangerous to others and himself, but he was just quiet the entire time he was there

He never bothered anyone, even when he spoke to his "creepy" puppet

One day, I approached him

He sort of attached himself to me after that

Couldn't get rid of him. Not that I ever tried

"No, really. I'm sorry. You didn't have to show me. You hide it for a reason. I would have believed you even if-" "its fine dirk oh my gawd!!!"

He was really awkward. Endearing in a way

He clearly didn't spend much time talking to people. But he was my best friend.

We stayed in touch, stuck together like glue.

Even as we started realizing more and more what the nature of our lives were.

...

The puppet... it took me a while. Whenever i was around, it would "shut him up" or stop the puppet's effects.

But, one night...

I've never seen anything look at ... anything with so much venomous hatred

He didn't even leave it near the door

It was downstairs

Dirk got so much worse after that

More violent. But I stuck around. I didn't want him to hurt himself. More torn. Apologetic. Aggressive. Detached.

He moved to Texas to stop it from screaming so loudly his ears would bleed. From making him claw his own arms up.

But then we...

......

I helped him, with Dawn.

I heard what he was planning.

When Dawn turned 6, he was going to start their training. I brought little Rosie over. She and Dawn got along like a house on fire.

I remember telling him it was a terrible idea. I was drunk at the time.

I told him he needs to get rid of that puppet before it gets him and his child killed. But much harsher. I'm sure you can imagine.

Then.... he started hiding. The rest of my trip there. Then, blocked me on everything and disappeared off the face of the earth.

...

There you go. The tragic story of a woman and her best friend.

[romiantic]

DRIVE ME CRAZY !

how your faves act after an argument

→ GENRE + WARNINGS: fluff/crack + joking of death

→ A/N: literally had sooooooooo much fun writing this cause I genuinely can see these characters like each category 😭. especially the jjk mfs

dramatic ass mfs — they are literally screaming and crying, BEGGING for you to forgive them. they didn’t mean to yell at you bae, please take them back. no but for real, please take them back, even their friends are hoping every single day that y’all make up and won’t have to hear anymore crying. they’re constantly replaying y’all arguments in their head and wishing they didn’t say what they said or did what they did. they love you so much and hate seeing you get mad at them, even over the smallest thing. you’re their heart’s lifeline and will feel like they’re goners without you by their side. they’re the embodiment of shitting, crying, sliding down the wall in slow motion, throwing up, when y/n is mad at them. please shut them up and forgive them

GOJO, deku, kaminari, atsumu, OIKAWA, yuji, kise, jean, 1610!miles, luffy, SANJI, bachira, connie, sasha, nobara, bokuto, reo, kagami

alright mr/ms. idgaf ! — these “nonchalant” ass mfs act like they don’t give a damn that y’all fought, it’s whatever. no it’s not. these mfs are literally hurting in the chest, they just know how to cover it up well that’s all it is. well, at first they will play it off as if they genuinely don’t care and continue on with their day, playing a game of “who falls first” and believing they’ll win. but as the day goes on, they feel a growing pit of pain and regret. they feel like something is missing and start to spiral when they realize they miss you too much. they can’t keep living like this and call you quickly but cover the much earlier mood by acting nonchalant. they’re pretending that they ain’t care that much, don’t believe them babes !

BAKUGO, ymir, yelena, TOJI, megumi, nanami, choso, 42!miles, geto, zoro, AOMINE, murasakibara, midorima, kuroo, osamu, rin, SAE, barou, eren, levi, maki, dabi, hawks, porco, suna, chigiri, oliver

auntie music is playing — I genuinely don’t know which is worse, them or the dramatic mfs. they start out as dramatic, begging for forgiveness but seeing that you won’t, they continue their day with dreary and sadness. they think of how they shouldn’t have done what they did and concoct a plan to figure out how to win you back, through music. I mean, a way through a person’s heart is through music, prove me wrong? exactly. they’ve stalked your music profile and gathered what you listen to on a regular day, creating a playlist off it. they think of an idea that is brilliant, so brilliant that they’re standing outside your window at two a.m. with a boombox (yes they still make those) in their hand, and “be without you” by mary j blige is playing. they’re screaming screeching the lyrics at the top of their lungs until you text them to stop and come inside. the music stops and they walk inside with quickness and ridiculously stupid smile on their face <3

CONNIE, isagi (bachira’s idea), shidou, todo, GOJO, yuji, bokuto, hinata (haikyuu), nagi, HOBIE, tanaka

i apologize a trillion times — they are in the same category as dramatic but more subtle??? I mean they’re not snot-nosed crying on instagram or posting pictures of you two with some corny music playing in the background with the captions “guys tell y/n to take me back” “I miss my bae” “I’d rather d*e than let y/n leave me”. but depending on the person, they would find any way, shape, or form to apologize. I mean anyway, through a message from an airplane, sending you ten text messages, yes ten, of long paragraphs saying that they’re sorry and they love you so much. they’ll even apologize to you through email, with the subject saying “BABY I MISS YOU”. in conclusion, they’re just “dramatic ass mfs” in a different font

kirishima, aizawa, ARMIN, choso, REINER, mikasa, onyankonpon, kunigami, akashi (knb), kuroo, iwaizumi, akashi (haikyuu), kuroko, YUTA, inumaki, miguel, gwen, shoto, usopp, ace, aran, eren, OLIVER

⭑ literally felt like gojo, connie, and eren could fit all 4 categories ngl 💀

⭑ okay but the amount of fun I had making this-

𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐏 💗: Psalm 139:14

MULTI FANDONM MASTERLIST + MAIN MASTERLIST

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟥 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

[billybob598]

Everything is Going to Be Okay (Sydney Lohmann x Reader)

Well hello there! Here is the long awaited (not really) part 2 to How Many People. On a completely unrelated note, school is kicking my ass. But whatever. Also, I just want to note that I am NOT a medical professional. I have no idea if what happens in this fic is actually possible or medically correct. Either way, any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Enjoy!

Part 1 here

Word Count: 5K (can we all just pause and acknowledge this? like guys come on now)

1 Year Ago

“She’s stable, for now. We’re going to be monitoring her carefully for the next few days. Again, we’re confident she’ll recover as much as she can.” You can hear a voice coming from above you, but your mind seems hazy, almost like a fog clouding your thoughts. Something wet lands on your exposed wrist, it feels like water but who would pour water on your arm? 

“Okay, thank you, doctor,” a German accent breaks your line of thinking. Wait, you know that voice, Sydney? What was she doing here? What were you doing here? The last thing you remember you were sitting in the middle of the track, about to switch the car off and get out. Now that you think about it, it did sound as if something was getting closer to you. Oh God, had you been hit by another car? Well, that’s not good. A door closed shut, presumably the doctor, leaving just you and Sydney alone. She started to cry, like full-on sobbing. How badly you wanted to reach out and hold her hand, but you couldn’t. Your body was betraying you. Luckily, Sydney slipped her hand into yours and squeezed tightly. “You scared me for a sec, Y/N/N. Wake up, please. Then, everything will be okay, liebe.” Her voice was cracking as she begged you to open your eyes. You couldn’t. You couldn’t reach up and tuck the hair behind her ear, you couldn’t open your mouth and tell her everything was going to be okay. You were useless. Well, you could just try and squeeze her hand. What’s the harm in trying? So, you focused completely on getting your fingers to tighten around hers. Sydney’s head shoots up. The sadness she was previously feeling almost disappeared altogether. “Y/N? Can you hear me?” She gets a squeeze in response, “Oh my God, oh my God.” She clings onto your hand as if it were a lifeline, “I’m going to go get the doctor, okay?” Another squeeze.

9 Months Ago

You had fully woken up four or five hours ago. For a couple of weeks you were just squeezing your girlfriend's hand, today was the day you were finally able to open your eyes. When you woke, Sydney immediately pulled you into a hug, being mindful of your injuries. The nurses did a few checks on you such as checking if you remembered what happened, who you were, and who Sydney was. They were happy to confirm you didn’t suffer any memory loss despite your head trauma. They then left you alone to rest for a couple of hours. Sydney telling you everything that has occurred over the last month. It shook you, how much you had missed and how long you’d been unconscious for. Around six o’clock the doctor came in. He watched the numbers on the machines you were hooked up to, occasionally writing something down on his clipboard. When he was satisfied, he walked to the foot of your bed and carefully removed the bed sheets covering your legs.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I’m not sure if anyone has told you yet, but during your accident, you suffered damage to your spinal cord. I just want to make sure that everything is okay down here,” he explains. He takes out a pen from his pocket and gently pushes it into your foot, “Can you feel this?” You shake your head no. He hums quietly then, he moves it onto your shin, “This?” Nothing. You unknowingly tense, this wasn’t good. He continues to move it further and further up your legs until he gets to just above your hip. Poking it softly he raises his eyebrows to you in question. Finally, you can feel the tip of the pen dig into your skin, 

“Yeah, yeah, I can feel that.” He nods curtly.

“Could you try wiggling your toes for me?” Focusing your entire body on getting just one of your toes to move, you groan when you can’t. The doctor mumbles something to himself. He then asks Sydney if he could talk to her outside. Sydney gets up, squeezing your shoulder as she walks past you. You watch them carefully, trying to see if you can lip-read. Spoiler alert: you can’t. As they walk back into the room, Sydney has a sombre look on her face. When she sees you staring she tries to force a smile, but you already knew what was coming. 

“So, Y/N-”

“I’m paralyzed, right?” Your question catches both of them off guard. They share a look before Sydney turns to you with a sad look in her eyes. That’s all the confirmation you need. The tears start to flow thick and fast. In an instant Sydney is beside you, comforting you in whatever way she can. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear, trying her best to calm you and reassure you.

“I know it seems like the end of the world, meine liebe. But, you’ll come back better than ever. Everything will be okay,” she whispers sweetly as the sobs coming out of your mouth begin to slow.

7 Months Ago

“Seriously, Y/N?” Sydney’s voice sounds incredulous. She harshly spins your wheelchair around, taking you by surprise. When you meet her eyes you're taken aback to see such fury and frustration in them. 

“What? What I’d do?” You ask, not liking the way Sydney looks like she could tear you apart limb by limb.

She scoffs, “Oh please, you know what you did.” It’s when she says those words that you realize what she’s talking about. A frown forms on your face, preparing to defend yourself, but she cuts you off, “Like, seriously, Y/N? What the fuck? You don’t get to say or decide those things.” Her words set you off.

“Oh, I don’t get to make those decisions? Of course, I do! You know who doesn’t get to decide those things? Someone who has no fucking clue what it’s like!” Your voice rises word by word. 

Sydney, however, refuses to give up, “Maybe I don’t get to make the decisions, but I get a say in it. They affect me as well. Not everything in this world revolves around you!” At this point, tears are starting to form in her eyes, your fists are clenched, and the words being said are much harsher than originally intended.

“Whatever. I’m a grown fucking adult and I’ll do what I want.” Any hope either of you had for a civil, calm conversation had been thrown out of the window a while ago. The German’s hands fly to her hair, tugging at it. 

“Really? Cause right now you’re acting like a child. God, you’re so frustrating! I’ve been doing everything I possibly can for you these last three or four months. I understand that you’re frustrated and that you’re heartbroken, but that doesn’t mean you get to shut me out, okay? I’ve tried to show that I’m here if you need someone to talk to, but what do you do? You bottle it up and then it makes you make stupid decisions like telling your therapist to piss off when she asks about Formula 1 and saying that you don’t ever want to see her again!” She releases a deep breath after her mini-ramble. All of her worries and frustrations from the past few months let out. You stare at her in shock and regret. 

With a look of concession you speak quietly, “You’re right, Syd. I shouldn’t have done that, I’ll call her and apologize. I’m sorry, I am, babe.” Blinking, Sydney couldn’t believe it, you had apologized. 

“And?” She prompts.

“And I promise I’ll try to talk to you more about those things,” a smile appears across your girlfriend's face. 

“See? Wasn’t that hard was it?” You roll your eyes, a playful grin etching itself on your face, “Everything will be okay, right?”

“Yeah, everything will be okay.”

6 Months Ago

“Fuck!” Your swear startles Sydney out of an email she was writing.

“Everything okay, schatz?” She asks, peering out of the office. You had moved to Germany so she could help you with your recovery. Your trainer and physiotherapist had both moved as well. That way everyone you needed to help you was right there. Sydney hated to leave you alone, especially in your current state. So, whenever she had to leave for away games or international duty she would get her mom and dad to come over and watch you. No matter how many times you insisted you were fine alone, they stayed however long they needed to and helped you do everything. Dinner? They made it. Shower? Momma Lohmann is helping you. It embarrassed you to no end. To have your girlfriend's parents look after you as if you were a toddler. It was the topic of many arguments with her, she just never understood why you were so stubborn to the offer of help. To be honest, you didn’t know either. There was just something degrading about it. You were once a role model, a trailblazer in motorsport, a standard for those to come. Now, you couldn’t even make it up one flight of stairs by yourself. 

“I spilled my tea. Don’t worry I’ll clean it up,” you call back from the living room.

“No, don’t. It’s okay, you’ve got physio soon. I’ll clean it up when I get back,” your girlfriend walks into the room. You huff slightly and mumble a quiet “okay.”

 Arriving at your physio, Sydney waves you goodbye as one of the desk ladies wheels you through the doors and into the main lobby. Your physiotherapist, Emma, smiles at you and takes over pushing your wheelchair towards the back.

“So, how are you feeling today?” She asks happily.

“Same as two days ago,”

“Woah there grumpy pants. It was just a question,” she jokes. Sighing heavily, you give her a more honest answer,

“Em, come on. It’s been what three months? I’m still nowhere near being able to walk again,” Now it’s her turn to sigh,

“Don’t say that. You are making progress. You may not see it, but I can. And I think you’re closer to walking again than you think.” She ignores your scoff and parks you near a massage bed. After a few warm-up exercises, (What you were warming up you had no idea. You couldn’t feel shit.) you maneuver onto the treadmill. However, on this treadmill, there was a harness with two braces that wrapped around your legs. This forces them to move. Emma helps you put the harness on, she turns the treadmill on, starting at an extremely slow speed. Slowly, she increases the speed little by little. When she feels you’ve had enough she stops it and sits you back in your wheelchair. The two of you continue to plow through exercises, everything seems to be going decent until you try to walk by yourself. You had been left unsupervised for no more than two minutes, but your impatient self decided to try and go get your wheelchair that was situated only six feet away from you. You willed your right leg to move forward and take a step, leaning forward slightly, instead, you toppled over face first having to break your fall with your arms. Emma and others had rushed over when they heard you thump against the floor. She, with the assistance of others, helped you into the wheelchair, the chain of curse words that left your mouth conveying just how pissed you were. What was shaping up to be a rare positive session ended instead with you being inconsolably furious. You weren’t mad at anyone, no, you were mad with yourself. In your mind, you were pathetic. How could you not even take one stupid step? You continued to mentally bash yourself, not realizing that Sydney and Emma had sat you in the car. Now, they stood behind the vehicle, Emma filling your girlfriend in on everything. After bidding your friend and physiotherapist goodbye, Sydney got into the car and started the drive home. When she took a peek at you she could tell how in your head you were. Doing the only thing she could think of, she reached across the centre console and intertwined her hand with yours. Your head snapped in her direction, you were confused but you didn’t move your hand away. Stopping at a red light, Sydney turned her head towards you. She spoke quietly,

“I know you’re frustrated, liebe. I would be too. But you have to try and be patient with yourself. It’s a long road and I’m almost positive that one day you’ll reap the rewards.” You smiled at her words, a genuine smile, something Syndey hadn’t seen in a long time. You brought your interlocked hands towards your mouth and planted a kiss on her hand. “Everything will be okay, okay?”

 5 Months Ago

“Come on Y/N! You got this!” Emma’s words spur you on. In the past month, you had made significant progress and today was the day you were going to try taking a step. So here you were, on your fourth attempt and while you were beginning to lose confidence, Emma was determined not to let you give up. Taking a deep breath, you will your leg forward. To your and Emma’s amazement, you take a step. 

“Holy shit I did it!” You exclaim happily.

“You did it!” Emma screams, bringing you into a tight hug. Before Sydney comes to pick you up you make Emma promise not to tell your girlfriend about your progress, stating that you wanted to surprise her when you can walk more. 

Two weeks later, you texted Sydney asking her to come inside because Emma wanted to show her something. So, as the two of them talk about God knows what, you slowly but surely make your way over to her. Emma looks excitedly over your girlfriend's shoulder, continuing to talk to keep her distracted. When you finally get close enough, you reach out and lay your hand on her shoulder. Sydney turns around, her jaw drops when she sees you standing there, your wheelchair far behind you. 

“Di-Did you…?” She stutters, extending her hand to hold you. You nod with a stupid grin on your face. 

“I did,” you say tears appearing in your eyes. Sydney pulls you into a hug, crying into your neck. 

“I’m so, so proud of you, Y/N,” she mutters, still against your neck. 

“Thank you, love. And thank you for staying with me,” you say before pulling her into a soft kiss. After a few seconds, you pull away. 

“Everything is going to be okay, liebe,” she says into your ear.

3 Months Ago

“You nervous?” You can practically hear the grin on Alex’s face as he speaks up from behind you. His hand lands on your shoulder, bringing a sense of comfort to you. Alex had always been one of your best friends, a friendship that only got stronger when you became teammates. Both of you had done your best to keep in touch throughout your recovery, something that proved difficult. Mostly due to you not wanting anything to do with F1. Some might see it as a terrible coping system, but you saw it as a well-deserved break to mentally reset. Now, after months and months of rehab and hard work, you were finally back where you belonged, in an F1 garage. Williams’ was giving you a test day around Silverstone. On one hand, you were ecstatic to be back, on the other, you and Syndey were scared as hell. While the conditions were perfect, the sun predicted all day with no clouds, and there were no other cars on track, It’s hard to get past those types of things, especially when they hurt you and everyone close to you. One of the main things you were concerned about was Syndey. You weren’t sure if you could, God forbid anything similar happened to you, put her through that again. She was your rock and you had no idea if she could take something as emotionally and physically taxing as that ever again.

“Nah, mate. I’m not nervous at all,” you say sarcastically before moving away from him.

As you walk around the garage you take a good long look at your car. God, your car. Something you hadn’t been able to say in forever. Someone walks up from behind you and snakes their arms around your waist. You lean back into your girlfriend's arms as she leans forward slightly and talks into your ear,

“You’re gonna do great, I just know it.” Turning around so you’re facing her, the bright smile that Syndey and the world love so much tugs at your lips. 

“Yeah I know, I’m more worried about you,” you joke lightly. She feigns offence at your words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m always as cool as a cucumber when you’re racing.” A laugh escapes from you and you kiss the underside of her jaw sweetly. 

“Y/L/N! We’re ready, wanna get in?” An engineer shouts at you, breaking the two of you out of your trance. You nod, the soft look you had instantly replaced with one of pure determination. Pulling away from your girlfriend, you look at her,

“Everything will be okay, Syd.” She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t say anything. Instead, she presses one last kiss on your forehead and moves to put some headphones on, leaving you alone. Taking a deep breath, you begin to put your earplugs in, then you tuck your hair in as you put your balaclava on. Finally, you slip the custom-designed crash helmet over your head and connect the HANS device to your neck. Approaching your car, a few of the mechanics give you fist bumps and words of encouragement. There are a few cameras located inside and outside of the garage, one of them being the social media manager. You give a thumbs up and wink at her, something that you’re sure will end up all over TikTok and Instagram later, but whatever. You step over the halo, your eyes squint due to the big smile under your helmet. After taking a few breaths in and out, you slide down into the cockpit. Someone helps you with the seatbelts and headrest, they give you a quick thumbs up before retracting their hand from the cockpit. Your engineer gives you the go-ahead to start the engine, and when you switch it on the entire car rumbles to life. It’s a surreal feeling, the way your entire world vibrates with its power. The front jackman signals for you to pull out of the garage. When you press the throttle, everything goes silent. As you pull out of the pit lane and head onto the actual track, the rest of the world falls away, It’s just you and your car. Nothing else in the world matters right now. For the first time in months, you’re doing what you do best, driving at crazy speeds like a madman. When you come across the start/finish line to complete your first lap in an F1 car in over nine months the entire garage breaks out in applause. Sydney can feel the tears flowing down her cheeks, but unlike the last time you were in an F1 car, they were happy tears. The world and your lives were somewhat going back to normal. Finally.

2 Weeks Ago

“Here we are for the 2024 Hungarian Grand Prix! And Martin, the biggest story of the week, Y/N Y/L/N is making her long-awaited return to Formula 1 after her horrific accident last year in Spa,” Crofty’s cheery voice crackles through the TV speakers in your driver room. 

“That’s right, Crofty. She has had to endure one of the most challenging journeys we’ve ever seen. And I think everyone inside of the F1 community is rooting for her this weekend. So far, everything has been smooth sailing for her. She put in a mighty performance in qualifying, only three spots back from her teammate, Alex Albon, who qualified a magnificent P2. And that Williams has looked quite speedy around this track and I’m sure both drivers are hoping to make the podium, at least.” 

“How are you feeling?” Your girlfriend's sweet voice brings you back to reality. 

“Good, yeah great, good,” you say very unconvincingly. She just laughs at you, but before she can say anything in response, a series of loud splats hitting the window makes you both look at it. To both your dismay and worry, the heavens decide to open up there and then. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath. 

“Hey, hey. Don’t worry about that. You’ve been doing so well, a little rain isn’t going to change that,” Sydney takes a seat beside you and cradles your face in her hands. 

“I can’t do it, Syd. I can’t,” You feel yourself start to hyperventilate. Your mind races, thinking about all the bad outcomes, thinking about what happened last time.

“Look at me, liebe. You can do it and you will. I know you, nothing ever stops you and this definitely won’t. You’ve worked so frickin’ hard for this. I’ve watched it, I’ve watched how you never gave up. This is your time. Show them just how amazing you are, schatz. Show them.” Her pep talk has its desired effect, it eases your worries and helps you prepare for the race. 

Walking around the grid, you take it all in. A year of pain and hard work finally paid off. Multiple people come up to you before the race and wish you luck, something you appreciate but don’t care for. As you sit inside the car with your helmet on, everything seems quiet. All weekend everyone wanted to talk to you and they always asked the same questions. At first, you didn’t mind it, just happy to be back. But, after a bit, it got annoying having someone try to follow you every minute. Inside your car, however, it was just you, you couldn’t hear anyone else, everyone just left you alone. 

“Thirty seconds until the green light,” your engineer, Gaetan, spoke through your earpiece. You run through your final preparations before the formation lap was started. When the green light is given, you weave around the track attempting to warm up your tyres while Gaetan confirms the race strategy. Parking in your grid spot, you ready yourself with the clutch. 

“It’s five red lights and away we go for the Hungarian Grand Prix!”

At the end of lap 1, you’re up to P4 after starting fifth. Alex had dropped down to P3, putting you right behind him. A few more laps pass by and you begin to get frustrated behind your teammate,

“Guys, come on. I’m faster than him.” Sydney and Lily watch anxiously from the garage.

“We’ll give it one more lap, Y/N. If he doesn’t improve we will switch the cars,” Gaetan responds. When Alex doesn’t improve the next lap, he lets you by and sets you free. Now, you had clean air and lots of time to make up. Over the next twenty laps, you gradually close the gap between you and the top two, Carlos Sainz and Max Verstappen. When the three of you come in for your pit stops, you were just under two seconds back from them. Alex had pitted a few laps before, trying to pull off the undercut on you guys.

“And what’s this? Oh no, Martin, Sainz has had a slow stop! Oh goodness, the tyres weren’t ready! This might just play into Y/N Y/L/N and Williams’ hands.” After a smooth stop from your guys, you rejoin the track ahead of Sainz and into P2. 

“So we’re P2 and Alex is P3,” your engineer tells you.

“Really? Oh, wow. Good job guys,” your surprised tone makes a few people chuckle. The race progresses and try as you might, you just can’t get close enough to get by Verstappen. By the time the second pit stops comes around you are 1.2 seconds behind him, only getting near enough to attempt one or two overtakes. With less than twenty laps to go, a sense of urgency overcomes you. You start to push a little harder. Eventually, you get DRS on Max, you draw closer and closer on the main straight, but not quite close enough to make a dive bomb. After a few more laps of getting closer but still being too far, on lap sixty-one of seventy you stick close to his gearbox the entire lap. Following close through the corners and gaining the slipstream on the limited straights around the Hungaroring. When the two of you arrive on the main straight you open your rear wing and tuck in behind him for the slipstream. Getting closer and closer, you pull to the inside and draw alongside him. Heading into the first turn, you have the inside line, but leave enough room for him on the outside. He keeps his foot in and stays level with you then, heading into turn two, the sweeping left-hander, you keep your nose in front of him. And you hit the throttle quicker letting you pull in front of him. Verstappen has to concede the position and you take the lead of the Grand Prix. The Williams garage erupts, everyone is losing their shit. For the first time in forever, one of their cars is leading a race. Sydney has the biggest grin on her face, she has no chance of hiding how proud she is. For the last nine laps you defend like your life depends on it. Max throws everything at you, but each time you turn him away skillfully.

“As she rounds the final bend, it’s a fairytale story for Y/N Y/L/N and Williams. Almost a year since one of the worst accidents the F1 community has seen, she returns and in her first race back, 

Y/N Y/L/N WINS THE HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX!”

When you cross the line you put your head in your hands and cry. The darkest time of your life had ended and you had come through, better than ever. 

“Oh my God, mate! You did it! You’ve won a Grand Prix, congratulations!” Gaetan sounds elated over the radio and you can’t blame him. 

“Holy shit, guys. I’m crying, stop. Thank you everyone so, so much for all your hard work and for supporting me throughout everything. I couldn’t ask for a more amazing team, thank you.” Your stifled sobs break up your words, but the words still get out. Stopping in front of the first place sign, you take a moment inside of the cockpit to just calm down. Unbuckling and removing the headrest, you step out of the car and stand on top of it raising your arms in triumph. Everyone cheers for you as you wave at the crowd. You rush to your team and jump into they’re awaiting arms. After celebrating with your team for a few seconds, you look for your girlfriend. She waves to get your attention, you grin and make your way over to her. She pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. Pulling away, she tilts her forehead against your helmet-covered one. 

“Everything’s okay,” she mumbles to you. A stupid smile appears on your face as you reply,

“Yeah, everything is okay, love.”

Present Day

“Liebe? Are you sure you want to do this?” Your girlfriend appears in front of you, a concern clear upon her features. Sighing, your hand runs over the scar on the side of your head, a nervous habit you developed during your recovery. Sydney gently takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with hers. Her heart breaks when she looks into your eyes and finds them glossed over with tears. “You know you don’t have to do this, Tom will understand if you back out,” she tries to reassure you. You shake your head,

“No, no. I want to do this. It’s time.” She looks at you warily before releasing your hand from hers. Tom Clarkson, the host of the F1: Beyond the Grid podcast, had come to you a few weeks ago asking if you would like to come onto the podcast and share your story. You, of course, had said yes, not hesitating much about it, Sydney on the other hand was much more cautious about it. It took you months and months before you were able to express your feelings to her, now you were just supposed to share your insane story to the entire world? She was praying that everything would go smoothly and that you wouldn’t close off after. As you sat down and adjusted the mic on the desk to sit closer to you, Tom quickly ran through some of the topics he was going to question you about. While most of them were touch subjects, you felt comfortable enough to talk about them. Especially with Sydney sitting not too far away. 

“After one of the most terrifying incidents the F1 world has seen in recent memory, she’s completed one of the most outstanding comebacks we’ve ever seen,” Tom introduces you into the podcast and you guys fall into a relaxed conversation for a few minutes. “Now, Y/N, today marks exactly one year since your accident. How are you feeling about that?” You gulp. It was odd to think that it only happened a year ago.

“Um, yeah, definitely crazy. I feel I’ve come so far and had to overcome so many obstacles. I don’t think I would’ve been able to return if not for the many people around me who helped me during my recovery.” 

He nods, “Anyone specifically who made a big difference?”

“My girlfriend. She was and is my rock, looking back at it I realize how much of an asshole I was to her and how much she looked out for me when she didn’t have to,” you explain, a love-struck smile on your face. Tom chuckles at your expression before asking the next question,

“So, was there any mantra or saying that inspired you over the last year?” Your smile gets wider and you nod excitedly. “There was? What was it?” You look over at Sydney before answering.

“Everything is going to be okay.”

[milbroom]

“Lifeline.”

So I FINALLY got around to starting my remixed work for whiskey-lullaby’s “Clumsy”. It’s been gut wrenching to write so here’s a shamelessly angsty extract where everyone suffers because why not 😙

“And pray tell, Ms. Hubble, how the hell am I supposed to do anything with you if you're so intent on keeping everything to yourself?”

Mildred couldn't prevent the overwhelming hatred she felt for Constance poisoning her veins in that present moment. She hated her for all the times she had been there but never truly there. Mildred had wanted so badly for someone, anyone, to show some sign that they cared, so she delved head first towards the first person she stupidly believed did, and she was so fucking sick of only receiving coldness in return. Sick of everything being so hard for her, when it came so easily to everyone else. Miss Hardbroom would never change, and Mildred hated her for it, hated how much it hurt to be pushed away again and again.

So she snapped.

She strode over to Constance, standing so close that she could feel her erratic breathing on her forehead, and she snapped.

"Well it's not like you've ever given me anything to work with yourself! Not like you've ever tried to be approachable, because you're nothing but a cold, awful bitch, a twisted freak who's incapable of anything else and will never fucking change, and I HATE YOU FOR IT!" Mildred screamed, her voice cracking before she turned away from the older witch and glared out the window, her magic dangerously close to breaking point.

Constance balled her hands into fists in a desperate attempt to keep them to herself. She was ready to retort, ready to rip Mildred's insolence to shreds, until she saw her.

Really saw her, for what seemed like the first time.

The sight of her scarred skin, the fierce shaking racking her shoulders, her half-starved frame, the raw agony she had seen decorating her eyes. It all stopped her short. Never before had she felt such anguish, such inconsolable grief for someone in her care.

Mildred made no attempt to move as she tried to still her trembling chin. For a moment, Constance simply stood frozen, battling the hostile emotions swirling inside her, until her chest seized painfully, the anger draining from her as quickly as it had risen.

“Mildred…” Constance’s voice softened, almost breaking.

"Don't," Mildred choked, furiously blinking away the tears threatening to spill over. "Just let me go. Go back to Cackle's, and leave me to it. I'm a lost cause. I’m too much for you.”

"You are not..." Constance stopped, an unexpected ache seizing her chest, "not to me."

"Liar."

"Mildred..." She reached out tentatively, fingers brushing against her arm. The younger girl flinched, but before she could pull away, Constance firmly turned her around, and pulled her fiercely into her arms.

The girl froze for a brief second, expecting a blow to follow the intimacy, until her heart caught up with her head and for the first time in thirteen years, she did something she had never done before— she broke down.

Mildred let out an audible sob, the tears finally spilling over as she buried her face in her teacher's robes. The dread, the resentment, the loneliness—all of it came crashing down, and she sobbed into her shoulder, her small frame shaking with the force of her emotions while she clung to Constance as if she were a lifeline.

She was a lifeline.

[coffee-breath1]

Lifeline (Ghost x Reader) (Part 1)

After being let go from your previous job, you're in search of a job you can juggle with your degree. The universe hands you an offer that seems too good to be true, and with how desperate you are to keep the power on, you take it.

Your last job had ended unceremoniously, a conversation with your boss about late pay checks had resulted in you packing your bags and leaving. If you weren't so worried about keeping the utilities on in your apartment, you might have even been happy about it. Good riddance to that place and its many workplace safety violations.

Instead, you made your way to the bus stop and got on the bus, sitting down on one of the patterned seats designed to hide years of grime. As if to mock you, the sky outside turned dark and the clouds hung heavy, releasing fat droplets that landed onto the bus windows with a splat. It would be poetic, really, if it didn't feel so personal.

The bus peeled down busy streets until it came to a pause as you shuffled to the front and out, speaking a small gratitude to the driver who acknowledged the gesture with a nod of his head.

The small walk to you apartment building was easy enough and you managed to avoid most of the rain, making your way up the stairs and to your floor to see a note stuck haphazardly on your front door.

Utilities out in a week, you in two. Get the money or get gone.

You sighed, holding the flimsy note in between your fingers. Your landlord was as pleasant as ever, it appears.

Just as you pocketed the note, the door to the neighbouring apartment opened, and the familiar face of your elderly neighbour popped out. She eyed the note in your hand and gave you a sympathetic look.

"Hi, Ms Fraser" you spoke, sending her a tired smile as she came to stand out in front of her own door.

"How are you, dear?" she asked in that shaky voice all old people seem to have.

"Making ends meet" you responded, tapping your index and middle finger against your door frame as you leant on it.

She paused, giving you a knowing look with her kind eyes before speaking again. "What is it this time?".

She didn't have to say anything in specific, you knew what she was talking about. She knew you knew what she was talking about, too.

"Utilities, out in a week or I'm gone in two" you said, a sigh slipping out. Maybe you were more exhausted than you realised.

"Are you going to make it in time?"

You paused before answering, taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile as if it could help change the reality of the situation.

"You know I will, I always do".

"Look after yourself, dear" she offered, hesitant to leave but knowing there was nothing else you could do as you always shot down any offer of help with the same remark.

"Don't worry about me, Ms Fraser. You got yourself to look after".

You just nodded and turned to your own apartment, unlocking it with the key and pushing open the door to the dark room.

Off came your shoes and your coat, messily discarded by the entrance as you made your way to bed and collapsed into it, drawing the thick blankets up around you.

Maybe the stress of living your life like this was catching up to you. Sure, you'd been losing a bit more hair in your showers and the ache in your shoulders definitely wasn't there a few weeks ago. Was it finally starting to rear it's ugly head?

All you could think about as you laid in bed, eyes open, focussing on nothing in the consuming darkness of your bedroom, was your earlier words to your dear elderly neighbour.

"You know I will, I always do".

And it was true. Every other time you had managed to hang on, fighting tooth and nail to get that money, but had you finally pushed your luck?

"Not this time", was the last thing you can remember thinking before your mind went blank and you slipped into sleep.

[angeldreamsoffanfic]

Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart was buried on the 2nd Sunday of May back in 1977, back when Eddie had only been eleven. It had been hard, not that death was ever an… easy thing mind you.

She’d been buried in Hawkins, as stated in the will that’d she’d put together (no matter if it had been written on hospital napkins or not it was followed just the same). Eddie’s custody had been a bit more complicated, as Al Munson had put up a bit of a fight in regards to Elizabeth’s wishes. She was adamant that Eddie go to Wayne, while Al didn’t care about what happened to him… as long as it went against what Elizabeth had wanted.

But no matter, because Eddie knew that Elizabeth loved him as much (if not more somehow) than Wayne did. And Eddie loved Wayne, honestly and wholeheartedly he did. But there was something missing from his life, and that was his mama.

Which, Eddie knows distantly, is what makes the day today as difficult to swallow as it does.

Because not only is it the day of his mama’s death but it’s also Mother’s Day.

And he can’t exactly fault anyone in his life for not being able to understand how he feels today. He really can’t bring himself to, even as he sits right in front of his mama’s gravestone- knees to his chest like he’s a little kid again. The rest of his odd found family has their parents, and so they just… they don’t fully understand what Eddie’s going through.

Not really anyway.

He knows they mean well, really he does. But no matter, because it’s hard and he already has a lot on his mind as it stands.

Eddie pauses and draws in a shaking breath, eyes wet and glossy with yet to shed tears, as he keeps his chin on his knees even as he hears a car door slam shut. It’s followed by several other ones, and Eddie doesn’t look behind him as he hears slowly measured footsteps behind him. He doesn’t turn, but he does speak.

“You don’t have to be here, Harrington.”

“Not Harrington, son.” It’s Hopper’s voice that makes Eddie finally turn, and he’s greeted to the sight of the older man- holding a bouquet of pink tulips wrapped in cellophane. Hopper’s in one of his nice shirts, one of the ones that Eddie knows that Joyce forced him in.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie manages to croak out, and the corner of Hopper’s lip twitches slightly- before he gestures with his head back to the parking lot.

“If you think you’re alone today, kiddo, you really got another thing coming.”

Eddie turns his head slightly to look past Hopper, and he can’t help the choked gasp that manages to make its way out of his throat. The entire group is there, all the way from The Party down to even the Corroded Coffin boys. Everyone in their crisp Sunday best (or as close to it anyway) with bright bouquets of pink tulips held between their hands.

Eddie turns again to look at Hopper, and can’t get out any words as he watches as Hopper is joined by Steve Harrington. Eddie has never quite been able to figure out Steve (no matter how much he tries), but he never…

“Hey ma’am,” Steve isn’t even looking at Eddie though, instead focused quite intently on the area behind Eddie… and oh.

Oh.

“I’ve had the pleasure of being one of your son’s friends this past year,” Steve carefully speaks as he moves closer until he’s next to Eddie, before he sits down- not minding getting dirt and grass on his pants. “And we all missed this last year but we figured… well we couldn’t let him come down here and mourn you alone.”

“Stevie-” Eddie tries, and Steve says nothing as he reaches a blind hand out- before he entwines his fingers with Eddie’s. Eddie sniffles again, even as Steve presses the tulips as close to the grave as he can.

“Your son matters to so many people, Ms. Hart, I mean that genuinely and honestly.” Steve keeps going, as if Eddie had said nothing. Eddie tries to keep the tears at bay, holding onto Steve’s hand as if it’s a lifeline. “And I didn’t know how to really show that… but I figured this might help a bit.”

Eddie is confused for just a split second, before he hears Jim Hopper clear his throat- before he then speaks.

“Ma’am, I know that your son has made a safety net for my daughter in the times where I couldn’t. I know that she loves him, truly, and for that I’m a bit more than grateful towards you.” Hopper then clears his throat, before he carefully steps around them- and sets his bouquet of tulips right next to the ones that Steve had put down.

Hopper curls a hand around Steve’s shoulder and bends to whisper something into his ear, and Eddie focuses on blinking back his tears as the man turns and walks away.

It’s silent for a minute, before it continues again.

“Hi Ms. Hart, Eddie’s told me a load about you and he was my first friend here in Hawkins and I just want to let you know we… we haven’t forgot about you.” Gareth’s voice is next, and Eddie lets out another sniffle as he sets a bouquet down. He doesn’t leave though, and instead sits right next to Eddie- taking the hand that Steve isn’t holding.

“Hi ma’am, Eddie hasn’t told me much about you… but I think you’d like the man he turned out to be, and from one mom to another? I’m keeping an eye on him for you.” Joyce. Another bouquet.

“He’s like really cool and taught us so much about this game we play, Dungeons and Dragons and I’m not sure if you knew what that was but it’s like this role playing-” Dustin. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my brother-” Jeff. Another bouquet.

“He’s like my son-” Wayne. Another bouquet. And a firm hand on a shoulder that never leaves.

“You’re someone he talks about whenever I need him to and that means a lot-” Max. Another set of flowers. A kiss against the top of Eddie’s head.

“He’s a good kid and you had to have been like an amazing mom for him to turn out the way he did because let me tell you-” Robin. Another bouquet.

“My dad says I’m allowed to choose my family and I chose Eddie, and from what he’s told me… you were a good mama.” Eleven sniffles softly as she presses her flowers into the ever-growing pile at the base of the gravestone. Eddie reaches out a touches the back of her leg- and it’s enough for the girl to launch herself into Eddie’s arms.

They stay like that. No one questions it.

“From his stories you sound really interesting and I think my mom and-” Mike. Another bouquet.

“Hello ma’am-” Lucas. Another bouquet.

“He’s kind of a nerd but-” Erica. Another bouquet.

“He’s a really good friend, Ms. Hart. Like there’s not a lot of them out in the world, and Eddie’s a good one.” Freak. Another bouquet.

“You and Wayne raised him right and I hope that wherever you are-” Nancy. Another bouquet.

“From what he’s-” Jonathan. Another bouquet.

“Ms. Dudette he’s so-” Argyle. Another bouquet.

“He’s one of my brothers. And that’s all there is to it, and I’m so sad we couldn’t meet and I couldn’t tell you this in person-” Will. Another bouquet.

In the end, Elizabeth Marie Munson née Hart has nineteen bouquets of pink tulips surrounding her grave. In the end, she and her son are completely and wholly surrounded by people that may not have known her— but they love her just the same.

Eddie Munson smiles, and clears his throat as he begins to speak, pulling the attention of his family to him.

“So the reasons why mama liked pink tulips is-”

The sun slowly begins to set as the ragtag group settles in to listen to Eddie’s story, all scrunched in as close as they can.

And for once in his life?

Eddie Munson hates the 2nd Sunday of May just a little bit less.

-

sacrifice to the readmore gods. mother’s day is really hard for me sometimes, so enjoy this word vomit of a ficlet i produced in about an hour. <3

[libracorpvs]

LAST CHEMO DONE 🥳🎉🍾 8 cycles over 4 months and i kicked ass the whole way through!!!!

[yyako]

My blog doesn't have much reach so please reblog for sample size. I know what y'all are gonna pick but I'm interested to see second place

[iwashieonhiatus]

BLUE LOCK MEN AS BREAKUP SONGS

📌 itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, oliver aiku, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, itoshi rin, michael kaiser

︶ ︶ ︶    ୨୧ ︶ ︶ ︶ warnings- breakup songs that I think suits the Blue Lock boys. (pt1?)

♡ ITOSHI SAE- MR. PERFECTLY FINE/ TAYLOR SWIFT

Mr. "Perfect face" Mr. "Here to stay" Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away" Everything was right Mr. "I've been waiting for you all my life" Mr. "Every single day until the end, I will be by your side" .. Hello, Mr. "Perfectly fine" How's your heart after breaking mine? Mr. "Always at the right place at the right time," baby Hello Mr. "Casually cruel" Mr. "Everything revolves around you" I've been Ms. "Misery" since your goodbye And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine" Mr. "Never told you why" Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy" He goes about his day Forgets he ever even heard my name Well, I thought you might be different Than the rest, I guess you're all the same...

✦ ISAGI YOICHI- SOMEBODY ELSE/ THE 1975

So I heard you found somebody else And at first, I thought it was a lie I took all my things that make sounds The rest I can do without I don't want your body But I hate to think about you with somebody else Our love has gone cold You're intertwining your soul with somebody else I'm looking through you While you're looking through your phone And then leaving with somebody else No, I don't want your body But I'm picturing your body with somebody else....

★ OLIVER AIKU- NOT IN THE SAME WAY/ 5SOS

Drink all night, never sleep You say, "Go," I won't leave I love you, you love me But not in the same way Rip my heart out and leave On the floor, watch me bleed I love you, you love me But not in the same way We fuck, and we fight, then you call me a psycho I walk out the door, but you won't let me let go Turn right around, throwin' rocks at your window But I can't forget you, and I'll always let you...I love you, you love me But not in the same way...

❥ NAGI SEISHIRO- GILDED LILY/ CULTS

Now it's been long enough to talk about it I've started not to doubt it, just wrap my head around it I remember when you told me it's an everyday decision But with my double vision, how was I supposed to see the way? Haven't I given enough, given enough? Always the fool with the slowest heart But I know you'll take me with youWe'll live in spaces between walls.... Haven't I given enough, given enough?...

▞ BACHIRA MEGURU- MORAL OF THE STORY/ ASHE

So I never really knew you God, I really tried to Blindsided, addicted Felt we could really do this But really I was foolish Hindsight, it's obvious Talking with my lawyer She said, "Where'd you find this guy?" I said, "Young people fall in love With the wrong people sometimes" Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay You can think that you're in love When you're really just in pain Some mistakes get made That's alright, that's okay In the end, it's better for me That's the moral of the story, baby.....

❖ITOSHI RIN- THANKS FOR NOTHING/ THE NEARLY DEADS

Thanks for nothing, all the bad advice. You never gave me anything. Hope you're having fun across the country Making brand new memories. Sorry it's not far enough away. I'm sick, so i'm sorry i'm giving up. Now i'll never wonder if i'm good enough for you.I'm getting older every day, I'm getting over you. You will never share in my success, You will never play a part in my happiness again. I'm getting older everyday, I'm getting over you this way. Take a step back, try to see it both ways. Looking from the outside everything seems ok. But we're not ok. All these guilty feelings i have harbored over years of your neglect, They end tonight.... Take a step back, try to find a lifeline. Looking from the outside everyone is just fine. I'm doing fine.The only thing you taught me was to run away and how to waste my life How to waste my life....

✸ MICHAEL KAISER- HATE ME/ ELLIE GOULDING

Hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me It's a thin line between all this love and hate (okay) And if you switch sides, you're gon' have to claim your place (okay) So baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate (okay) Yeah, baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate... Tell me how you hate me, hate me, still tryna replace me Chase me, chase me, tell me how you hate me Erase me, 'rase me, wish you never dated me Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me...

[simply-ivanka]

Why the Left Is Throwing Biden a Lifeline

AOC and Bernie Sanders are betting the President will reward their loyalty in a second term.

Wall Street Journal Editorial July 11, 2024

President Biden is phoning friends across his party to rally support, so pay close attention to who is answering the call. His staunchest defenders are on the left, while moderates in swing districts are asking the President to withdraw from the race. There’s more than 2024 electoral calculation behind this highly revealing political turn.

No one outside the Biden family has been more fiercely pro-Biden since the President’s debate flop than Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. The Queens firebrand promised reporters that Mr. Biden won’t leave the race and pledged to campaign for him through Election Day. This show of faith came after she said she “spoke with the President extensively” over the weekend. A Commander in Chief pleading for support from an often critical House backbencher is something to behold.

Another stalwart for the President is Sen. Bernie Sanders, who says he believes Mr. Biden can still win—if he campaigns on the Bernie agenda. Even Rep. Ilhan Omar, who has been denouncing Mr. Biden’s Israel policy for months, is now in the Save Biden camp. This week she said “he’s been the best president of my lifetime, and we have his back.”

There’s an ideological method to this loyalty. Ms. Omar has a point about Mr. Biden’s first term. While the President campaigned as a moderate uniter, in office he has tried to be the second coming of FDR.

Despite losing the 2020 primary to Mr. Biden, Sen. Sanders gave his endorsement in return for Mr. Biden signing up to the Biden-Sanders Unity Task Force. The agenda included drug price controls, an expanded child tax credit, massive green energy commitments, and Build Back Better entitlement expansions. Only Sens. Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema stopped him from delivering on more or less the entire Bernie Sanders policy wish list.

If progressives save Mr. Biden now and he goes on to win re-election, the left will be well positioned to cash in again. Mr. Sanders is clear about what he expects in return for sticking with Mr. Biden. In his statement defending the President, he urged Mr. Biden to support a national “living wage,” a payroll tax hike, medical debt cancellation and much more. “Biden and Democrats can win this election if they address the needs of the working class,” he said.

The desperate President is turning to the left because he knows these Democrats don’t face electoral challenges. Progressives are running in safe seats or in Democratic states where Donald Trump has no chance to win. But in his desperation, Mr. Biden is also making a possible second term even more hostage to the left. Bernie and AOC have plenty of unfinished policy business they hope to get done if Democrats control the White House and Congress.

Things will work out for progressives even if Mr. Biden wins but doesn’t make it through the entire four years. Their dream scenario would be for President Biden to win, then retire and pass the Oval Office on to Vice President Kamala Harris, who ran as a whole-hearted progressive in the primaries in 2020.

Mr. Biden’s political vulnerability, and his turn to progressives for a lifeline, raises the policy stakes even higher for the November election. Bernie Sanders may believe social spending is free, but his political fee is steep.