#i'm so prepared and yet the panic is so real | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nnight-dances · 9 months ago

Text

BABYDOLL

PAIRING: choi seungcheol x afab!reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive (nothing explicit)

TROPES: gym trainer!cheol, office worker!reader, you have INFJ syndrome until you start thirsting for cheol, mutual pining and perversion, wonwoo and lisa besties to lover side plot

LISTEN TO: babydoll by dominic fike

NOTE: unfortunately yes this is based on a brainrot ive been harboring for a real man but since cheol > all other men so here is my way of coping with it! i hope u like it and lmk what u think <3

You liked to think of yourself as a sane person. If anything, you had always had a reputation of having a good head on your shoulders, as the eldest daughter and the ideal student in class. You lived a life of discipline even out of college, waking up early to clean your apartment before you headed out to work and coming back late to a fridge full of meal-prepped tupperwares.

You're sane. So why is it that you can't bring yourself to behave like it around him?

For some context, you had decided your daily 15-minute walk to your apartment from the subway wasn't cutting it anymore. More than anything, you feel like you needed something more intense for the sake of your stiff body. You'd come home feeling creaky as floorboards and without a concrete plan to keep you in shape, you would end up doing some lousy stretching before hitting the sack.

But today that was going to change. You had enrolled as a member in the nearby gym, a solid place from the looks of it. It was your first time in a gym this fancy, equipped with the best of any machine you could imagine but also an ambient changing room where you looked forward to showering in.

You had come in fully prepared, clad in a workout set that was your favorite shade of green. When you'd pulled it out of your closet after all this time, you felt like the inanimate fabric might actually be thanking you for remembering its existence. You had an adequately sized water bottle that you had set to the side when you'd started your cardio for the day, waiting for the personal trainer the lady at the reception had told you would come meet you in 15.

At exactly the 15 minute mark on your treadmill, you'd felt a presence next to you and to your surprise, it was a man wearing the black shirt everyone working in the gym wore with a little crest on the chest. But this man was particularly… built. You didn't like to be indecent about another person when he had yet to introduce himself but the man before you was right out of your dreams– his shoulders wide, that his shirt did little to hide, and his buff arms that he politely crossed waiting for you to notice him.

You pop the earbud in your left ear out, rushing to turn the treadmill off as you turn to greet him. "Oh, I'm sorry– I didn't see you there– Wait, how did this thing stop–"

"Let me get that for you," the man – the dangerously attractive man – leaned over to press a red button that you should've spotted sooner than you did. The treadmill comes to a stop gradually and you try to think of the different ways you could vanish into thin air.

But then the trainer smiles at your panic-sriken experession revealing his dimples and you think you might faint before you'd had a chance to exercise. "Hi, I'm Seungcheol," he holds out his hand to you when you manage to step off the machine in one piece. "But you can call me Cheol." He points to the name-tag on his shirt– another detail you had missed when you were far too busy being a pervert over the general amazing-ness of his build. The name-tag says cheol in lowercase with a few hand-drawn cherries next to it.

"I'm Y/N," you say quietly, shaking his hand. "Sorry about that, by the way. I promise I'm not usually such a klutz. It's just my first time here so I'm kinda nervous."

Cheol simply blinks at you, "Nothing wrong with being a klutz. That's why I'm here. And as for being nervous…" He looks around at the rows of people on treadmills and various other cardio machines and shrugs. "You'll get a hang of it. Just follow me."

You don't have time to stand around gaping at Cheol's words so you do as he says, especially because you would rather die than have him think you're clumsy. But despite your effort to look put-together, you find your control slipping on the first machine he brings you to. It looks like it should be simple enough, a seat with handles for back-rows. Yet, when you sit on it, you can't seem to find the right position to start and when you do, it all feels wrong.

Then, Cheol comes up behind, a hand on your lower back pushing your spine up straight. His voice is gentle in your ear and you meet his eye in the mirror in front of you. "Hold still for me. Throw your shoulders back and focus on pulling with your back."

You do as he says and he gives you a nod of approval. "Remember to breathe," he says, his fingers now on your shoulders, pulling them back to keep them in the right posture. When you're done with the first set, you feel like you've forgotten how to breathe.

"You must be an office-worker," Cheol comments as he lets you take a minute to breathe.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," you frown.

"It's not the best thing for a person's spine. Makes for a stiff spine and whatnot."

You grimace when his words seem to describe you. "You're right. I can't sit with my spine straight for the life of me. Those back-rows almost sucked the life out of me."

"Then I hope you're ready for two more sets," Cheol chuckles, politely grabbing your precious water bottle out of your hands. "Two more sets," you repeat after him, praying that he actually meant no more sets and said the wrong thing. But he stares at you in the mirror, arms crossed, waiting for you to take your position.

By the time, you're done for the day, you think you might have seen God, with the way Cheol pushes you through the workout, throwing sets of shoulder presses and plank holds at you. He must hate you, you think, wiping the sweat off your neck with a hand towel as you watch him write something down on a notepad you only just noticed. You've been really out of it today, huh?

Still, Cheol's disdain for you aside, you couldn't help but marvel at him. His body was so lithe, lifting weights off the floor for you without a huff and demonstrating the exercises you had to do while narrating the movements like it was nothing. What's more, he had this amazing air of authority about him, not letting you give up on an exercise just because you felt like you couldn't do it. If the last set got physically impossible for you, he'd give you a hand but he didn't let you do anything half-earnestly. In short, he's really fucking cool.

You come to your senses when Cheol says, "All right, that's all for today. Thanks for the hard work." You nod, "Thanks, Cheol." You don't have it in you to say anything about the workout, mainly because you're embarrased at how weak you are so you simply smile an awkward smile and leave the room.

God knows you were the worst version of yourself in there, the complete opposite of the composed woman you were on the outside. It was mortifying, honestly, to be that helpless and in front of a man you were attracted – that might have been your greatest nightmare realized into reality.

Which is why you find yourself at the gym a day later, taking a deep breath before greeting the lady. "Hey, I'm here for my PT session," you start and then clearing your throat, you add, "With trainer Cheol?"

The lady looks surprised when she sees you for a split second but then she grins. "Of course, miss L/N. You're just on time." She types rapidly for another second before nodding at you, "Okay, you can start your 15 minutes of cardio and the trainer will meet you there."

You thank her before heading in, finding it a little strange that she looked surprised to see you but shrugging it off when you're welcomed by the lavender-scented changing room. You note to yourself to start buying more scented candles for your house as you place your bag and hoodie in a locker, taking just your bottle out.

You're a minute from finishing your cardio for the day when you hear your name being called. You turn to find Cheol staring at you with an indecipherable glint in his eyes. His arms are crossed, almost like a signature pose on a game character, muscles glistening under the bright gym lights. You stop the treadmill successfully this time as you wave at him, "Hey!"

"...You're back?"

You frown when you hear the question in his voice, "Yeah? Is that not what I'm supposed to do?"

"I mean…"

"I didn't come in yesterday because I woke up feeling like someone beat me up," you add with a pointed look, "But I think you'll forgive me if your customer retention is that low."

Cheol blinks with a smile gradually consuming his expression. "It's not that– I just didn't expect you to come back because you looked mad when you left last time. And well, office-workers are usually inconsistent so I definitely didn't think I'd see you twice in the same week…"

You cross your arms to match his pose, "I wasn't mad, I was a breath away from dropping dead."

"Right, that makes sense," Cheol agrees proudly and you shake your head, "And you must have a grudge against office-workers."

"I don't. All my friends are office-workers. I've just watched the job suck out all the life out of them so I'm not a fan."

"I think you may have defined the word grudge just now," you point out with a poorly disguised laugh.

Cheol pauses before looking you up and down with a cocked brow. "Someone's in a feisty mood today. I like that, it means you're ready for leg day."

You were not ready for leg day. You used to think that your legs would be strong enough since you'd done your share of squatting and running in your lifetime but faced with Cheol's insane workout set-up, you should've seen this coming. It starts off fine– a normal cycle of squats and lunges. But then he adds weights to the equation, increasing it after each set. Then, he takes you to the machines and makes sure you do each rep right. You have a hard time even walking over to the bench where he wants you to hip thrusts.

For a moment, Cheol's eyes betray softness. "You good? We can stop here if you want."

But for all your groaning and heaving, you weren't quite ready to give up yet, the adrenaline doing wonders to your head. "I can stop when I'm dead. Just tell me what to do next."

Cheol perks up at your challenge, "Okay, soldier, calm your horses. We'll do some hip thrusts now but let's start slow."

"You don't have to take it easy on me," you add, taking the barbell from his hands. He smiles, "Don't worry about that, I'm just getting started." You swallow the viscerality of the reaction that rises at his words and force yourself to get into the right position. Cheol must know what he's doing, towering over you with that nefarious smirk, monitoring your movements strictly while instructing you how exactly to maintain your form.

With your eyes fixed on him, you can't help but feel your mind wander, far beyond your control. You can't blame yourself– this angle is sinful. He looks so delectable with his arms crossed across his chest as usual and legs steadily placed close to yours on the ground in case he had to help you out. You wonder what he's like under the trackpants he sports, about his thighs and what they'd feel like under your palm. You wonder what he'd sound like–

You slip mid-rep with your grip on the barbell going loose and you yelp out as the weight bounces dangerously. Cheol's arm flash before you sight, swiftly grabbing the barbell before it hit your shin, throwing it aside with a loud clank. A few people working out near you give you concerned glances but all you can do is heave out a breathe at the sight of Cheol crouched so close to you.

He hauls you with one brawny arm behind your back, holding you close to his face so he could inspect you. "Are you okay?" he asks you gravely, eyes scanning your torso and then going down your legs.

You must be truly sick because even in this situation, you're thrilled. Absolutely thrilled. Because you're so close to Cheol you can feel his breath against your hot neck and you finally have an excuse to paw against his chest, and feel the sinewy warmth under his shirt.

"I'm fine," you muster, mouth unbelievably dry and Cheol takes the wideness of your gaze to be fear. He rests your body back against the bench and you mourn the loss of his touch silently. But then he presses the back of his hand against your cheek and then pats your head.

"You're fine," he repeats your words but with more conviction, a reassurance. "You scared the shit out of me." You breathe out a chuckle, "Sorry. You'd get into trouble if I got injured under your watch right?"

Cheol stares at you. "That's what you're worried about? Not that you almost lost a leg and a half just now?"

You look away with a flushed face. "No, I was never worried about that. I knew you'd catch it before anything happened."

"You should be more worried, then," he responds with a shake of his head, "I'm not perfect. I won't make it every single time."

"Sorry," you sigh, "I'll be more careful." You're quick to give in, especially because you could not stand the reason behind this mess.

You leave after that with Cheol firmly refusing to go on, with something about not taking more chances. You sense something akin to disappointment in his words and feel a pit in your stomach as you head home. You'd started to bond with him finally, with your determination to show up, but this felt like it put you back to square one. Cheol, as reliable as he was, seemed reluctant to open up to you and where he'd finally started to warm up to you, your slip-up today probably reminded you that you were a customer who he needed to train.

Your sleep is fitful that night because you can't stop thinking about your accident. Can't stop thinking what might have happened if you didn't mess up. And then you picture Cheol and his watchful gaze over you the whole time you're there. God, you feel crazy.

–

"What's crazy is that I got a whole box of them for 20 bucks on sale!" Lisa exclaims. You nod at her anecdote about scoring extremely cheap protein powder that slightly concerned you about the quality of the product your co-worker was consuming. Lisa had caught you that afternoon in the lunch room, awkwardly stretching out your legs. When she grilled you about it, you'd revealed your recent gym membership and the consequent soreness.

"I've heard drinking lemon coffee before workouts is really helpful," she adds with an excited grin. Lisa, as it turns out, was a huge gym rat. "And oh, don't ever go to the gym if you haven't slept at least a good 8 hours."

"What?"

"Yeah, lack of sleep combined with exertion is a nightmare for your body."

You tap your nail on the table nervously, worried that would mean you couldn't go to the gym today. Just then, Wonwoo enters the break room with a knowing chuckle. "What bullshit is Lisa feeding you this time, Y/N?"

"Hey!" Lisa protests, "I'm just sharing my years of advice with her since she just started the gym." Your glares at Lisa go unnoticed as she goes ahead and reveals your newest hobby to the man.

You groan, "You make it sound like such a big deal. It's not, I'm just finding ways to keep myself occupied."

"You must be getting old," Wonwoo says as he slides into a chair next to you. "But if I know anything about the gym, it's that it'll keep you young. Especially with the guys that you'll see there."

You stare at Wonwoo, "What the fuck is wrong with you guys? I can't have one normal conversation around here." The man simply elbows you with a chesire grin, "Oh, come on, Y/N. You're always so proper and put-together, it makes me think you're not even living your life."

You go silent, ears redenning at his words. "Wonwoo, that's a little rude," Lisa accuses him, "Y/N's the coolest member of our team, how could disrespect–"

"I'm not, I just mean that you've achieved most of your goals now," he shrugs, "But you probably have a side that you always keep in check. Maybe you should let go a little?"

–

For all your attempts at ignoring Wonwoo's unsolicited advice, you end up thinking about it the whole day. And the next, when you make your way back to the gym. You're a little reluctant to, given you were still embarrassed about your incident last time. But stupid Wonwoo and his way with words.

You found yourself overthinking your outfit for the day, ending up wearing a baby blue sports bra with a strappy back and black sweatpants. You had to admit that it was quite flattering on your figure, with your back tattoo on display, one that said babydoll in a cursive font, a reference to one of your favorite songs and just generally, a cheeky nudge to whoever was reading in the direction of your preferences.

Today, you spot Cheol across the cardio room but with another client, a tall blonde woman who was jogging leisurely at a speed that would have you gasping for breath. She looked like she was in great shape, a flat stomach revealed by her cropped bra and an ass for days that her shorts accentuated. Cheol looked so different than when he was with you, eyes smiling as he continuously hyped the girl up, a proud beam on his face. You don't think you'd even seen all his teeth on display before.

You force yourself to take a treadmill where you can't see him, turning the music on your earbuds all the way up to get your head straight. But every song you listen to reminds you of him. You ignore it anyway, increasing the speed on your treadmill when you catch a glimpse of him escorting the lady out. He really looked like he was enjoying himself, laughing loudly at something she says in a soft voice. She was in a league of her own. Heck, so was Cheol.

The reminder is unpleasant and you have a hard time putting on a smile when Cheol comes to stand at your side with an expectant grin. But in comparison to before, this grin seems dull and his eyes look like they're calculating something, not delighted. You had a feeling this was going to be another difficult session for you.

"That's a nice outfit," he comments when you turn around to him, covered in sweat from your jealousy-driven run. You don't respond to his compliment, feeling like it was empty and honestly, losing your will to please him after what you'd witnessed. You get off the treadmill with a sigh and roll your shoulders back, "What am I doing today?"

Cheol hesitates for a split second at your curtness but moves on quickly, guiding you to the dumbbells. "Arms and back for the lady today," he announces grandly, handing you two dumbbells labelled 10 lbs. You raise your brows at him, wondering if his decision had anything to do with your exceptionally bare back. Reigning in your curiosity, you do as he says.

The first few sets of various basic exercises go by well, so much so that you catch Cheol mumbling a good job in your ear when you pass him the dumbbells. The compliment goes straight to your head – and well, elsewhere – but you control your thoughts, not when you were finally feeling like yourself and not like a perverted idiot lusting over your hot hym trainer.

But then you're at the back-row machine and you lose your drive, glancing uneasily at Cheol. He simply gestures for you to get started. "You know the drill" are his brief words of explanation.

The first set goes by okay with you struggling to finish the last rep but by the time you're in the middle of the second set, you feel a numbing strain in your back, making it a Herculean task to even tug at the handles. You spot Cheol walking over behind you and the pads of his fingers press into your back, somehow landing exactly where the fabric of your bra left you exposed.

Your eyes jump to his in the mirror, the contact sending a wave of heat to all kinds of places and feeling incredibly inappropriate for some reason. Cheol's eyes remain unyielding when you meet them though, his grip extending to your shoulder to pull them back. "Come on," his words splay out like breath on your neck, "Keep going."

You manage the last few reps with his help, groaning in pain when he finally lets you go. He pulls away as soon as you're done, sqaushing any hopes that you had of him sharing the vibe that you had felt. He even takes a large step away to give you air before the next round. You pout as you closely observe him in the mirror, wondering why he was so cold to you. He had seemed warmer a few days ago when you'd shown up to contradict his expectation, maybe even warmer than he had been with that lady earlier. So how come he's back to being distant now?

"Something on your mind?" Cheol asks, coming to your side, "You've been glaring at me for the past minute."

"Nothing."

"Really? You've been weird this whole time you know," he presses. "It's my duty to make sure you're satisfied as my client. So if I'm doing anything wrong…"

You sigh at his words. Satisfied, huh? If Cheol had even the slightest hint to your thoughts every time you were close to him– God, he'd probably drop you as a client altogether. "I'm fine," you say quietly, looking down at your hands instead of at him. You were doing so well at keeping it together and you didn't want to lose your progress to some whim. "Just tired from work."

"Have you been sleeping okay?"

"As okay as I can."

"Have you considered asking for a day off?"

You scoff, "I'm not on my death bed. A few hours of lost sleep won't kill me."

"It will in the long run," Cheol retorts, lips set in a thin line, "And that's the second time you've talked about dying before giving up with me."

You're starting to wish he would stop with his questions. "I'm not suicidal, Cheol," you start, "And I'm not losing sleep because of work anyway."

"Oh, really? What is then? A guy?"

You scowl at his words, "I'd rather not talk about this anymore. It's not funny."

"Didn't say it was," he mumbles but returns to his stance behind you. You feel his palm on your back again, "Let's go for the last set, then."

You pull hard, getting in a few good reps before your back muscles start to give up again. Cheol's in action, forcing your muscles to stay engaged as you continue pulling him. "Breathe for me, doll, you're doing so well. Just five more reps." Forget the fact that you'd done your required 20 reps of the back rows, when you hear Cheol's praise you feel your energy spike up, somehow pulling off 5 more reps.

He lets go with a chuckle, "I knew you had it in you." You slump over, dropping your head in your hands, reeling. Did you hear him right? Doll? Your stomach turns with butterflies, the thought of him using your tattoo exactly in the way you'd intended – fuck, you think you could give the man the best head of his life right now if he let you.

But instead you pretend to be wiped out as you stand up without making any eye contact with him, crouching over your water bottle and taking a few sips. You realized that Cheol was being himself with you, now that you think about it, his sarcastic jabs and his cynical questioning. He was worried about you but didn't want to burden you with it. But to think that you'd managed to get him to praise you despite his aloofness, it made you want to do unthinkable things.

"All right, let's do some shoulder presses next," Cheol says, deciding you'd had enough of a break. You silently nod, following him to the bench. Surprisingly enough, you make it through the rest of the workout without a hitch, even earning yourself an approving hoot from Cheol along the way.

"You're on fire today, aren't you?" he beams and you want to imprint the sight in your mind. "Come on, I'll have do some good stretching today so you won't wake up feeling like someone beat you up again."

You chuckle at the reference to your earlier comment and gladly follow him to the mats where he guides you through some stretches. Then he perches himself in front of you, holding out his hands. "Give me your hands."

You look at him questioningly and he simply waits. Slowly, you put your hands in his, noticing the way his wrap around yours completely. He's big compared to you, easily pulling you toward him while keeping his feet planted above your knees so you could stretch your spine out. You let out a moan at the feeling in your spine, "That feels good."

His hand wrap around your wrist next, resting them on his shoulders– and you swear to God, he's got to be doing this to you on purpose. All you can think about is his skin under your palms, the hard shoulders that you didn't imagine you'd be touching. He continues to mess with you; his hands are on your shins, massaging their way up your legs– your calves, your knees, your thighs.

You pull away with abruptly and his hands dance back down your legs. Cheol's looking up at you with hooded eyes, as if he can read every thought that's running through your head. "Good?" he asks and the vague nature of the question does nothing to help your situation.

You clear your throat, "Yes. Am I done for the day?"

Cheol makes you suffer through some more stretches, ones where he finds an excuse to get his hands on you– an arm stretch with him pulling you from one side or a back stretch where he crossed your arms down firmly. Your head was all but spinning when you're finally done.

"Okay, you're done. Thanks for the session," he exclaims and as you turn to leave, he stops you with a hand on your elbow. "Oh and– Listen, I don't know what's on your mind but don't worry so much. You're doing great, at least in the gym. Sleep well tonight, doll."

–

The only explanation for Cheol's behavior was that he hated you. Because why else would he enjoy torturing you like this? You had never thought you showing up mad to a session would lead to him doing all that– calling you doll of all things. You had all sorts of thoughts in your head right now and none of them you could voice out loud without embarrassing yourself.

That night, you do sleep well, a little too well even. You have sweet dreams after all, dreaming of Cheol in your bed, climbing up your relaxed figure while his hands trailed up your legs, not stopping at your thighs. They make it all the way and the sound that leaves you is undignified but Cheol meets your mouth like he predicted your reaction. His touch burns you and his tongue leaves you feeling like you were starving. You sweat in his arms, his words sending you over the edge in no time.

You wake up the next morning to a mess in your panties, the sight leaving you truly dumbfounded. If you had thought you had come close to regaining your sanity in the last few days, you might just have lost any such hope. You rush to shower, making it cold on purpose so you could cleanse any dirty thoughts away with the remains of last night.

But Cheol's hold on you is strong, even when he isn't forcing you to go through the last few reps of an exercise. You enter the office in a daze that day, going about your daily tasks without a real thought behind your eyes.

It's only when you overhear a conversation in the break room that you come to your senses.

"I'm thinking of changing my hair," Kazuha tells Katie with a thoughtful hum, "But I don't know what to do." You gaze at the younger girls in front of you. Kazuha had long hair the shade of mocha and Katie sported a short blonde bob that bounced when she peeked over her friend's shoulder to look at her phone.

"Oh, you know what you would suit? Blonde streaks!"

"Really?" Kazuha sounds dubious, "I don't know. I'm more of a dark hair girl."

"I know, that's why I said streaks, stupid," Katie pulls out her phone and scrolls through something that looks like an album of hair pictures. "Something like this– Just your bangs, or the ends of your hair."

Intrigued by the conversation, you approach the pair. "Hey, guys," you let yourself known and the two nod quickly when they see you.

"Oh, hi, Y/N!"

"Sorry to interrupt, but I… I had a question."

Katie looks excited, leaning forward with a sneaky grin. "Sure! What is it? Are you seeing someone?"

"What? No, that's not it," you protest, uneasily playing with your mug. "Um, actually, I was… this is a completely hypothetical question, okay?" The two nod eagerly. "If I was to know a guy who was a gym rat of sorts… What kinds of things would you say might interest him?"

"Interest him?" Kazuha says, "Aren't gym rats only into other gym rats?"

"Yeah, I think so, too," Katie echoes, "When you live for the gym, you'd only want a partner who understands the lifestyle. But I did have this friend…"

She trails off and you prod, "A friend?"

"Well, she had a crush on this guy at her gym so she tried to get his number and he–" she cuts herself off with a light laugh, "He said she was too plain. God, he was an asshole. My friend had the latest hairstyle and everything. She cried over him for a week. I told her not to spend so much money on the membership if she was just going there for a guy…"

You nod, "Right… That sounds awful." Eventually, Kazuha and Katie go back to discussing something on their phones and you excuse yourself.

–

You don't go to the gym for the rest of that week, mainly because you're afraid to see Cheol, still not over the wet dream you'd had of him. Thankfully, there hadn't been any more but just the one occurence had you feeling like you'd committed a crime so you stayed away to keep your conscience clean.

A week later, you finally force yourself out of your guilty spiral and head to the gym. At the reception, you pause before heading in for cardio. "Hey, Seol," you call out and she looks up from the computer. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"No, please, ask away."

"Is… Does Cheol have a lot of clients?"

Seol looks amused at your question and takes her time riling you up before saying, "Yes, ma'am. He's one of the top trainers in our gym. Sometimes, we have clients asking to switch over to be trained by him because they see him training other people."

"Ah, I see," you say, keeping your tone as flat as possible, "And can I ask how I ended up with him?"

"Oh, well, it was just good timing," Seol says with a polite smile, "He had a client leave after she got promoted at work so you joining worked perfectly."

You nod at her response, thanking her as you head in. So it was just luck.

You don't know what you had expected– Of course, Cheol was popular. You weren't the only one with eyes around here and looks aside, he was genuinely great at his job. You didn't take that for granted but it didn't help the pit in your stomach, when you realized you were just a replacement client on his roster.

Great. You've been in the gym for less than 10 minutes and the crazies have already started.

To make things even worse, you see Cheol next to another woman yet again. This time she's short, a petite figure with long wavy hair and you almost laugh out loud at the situation. Someone must be playing a sick joke on you because how else was every single one of his clients so much prettier than you?

You have to restrain your thoughts before they dig you any deeper in a hole of self-depreciation so you pick out a treadmill away from them.

"Evening, doll," Cheol pipes up next to you, voice cheery as he pats your arm. You contain yourself as you stop your jog and get off. "Do you have to call me that?" you throw, giving him your best icy stare.

He simply grins, "What? Doll? But it's a cute name."

"I already have a name," you cut in, "And someone might get the wrong idea if they heard you."

Cheol regards you with a glint in his eye. What you would do to hear his thoughts. "There's nothing to get wrong," he finally says, "So don't worry."

If anything, his words are a harsh slap of reality. It brings you back to earth effectively so maybe you ought to thank him for it. You make it through that workout without an indecent though– well, okay, there might have been a few but nothing that was enough to put you in a life-threatening position. In fact, you make it through a whole week's worth of sessions with those words.

It's Friday when it all goes down the drain– your hard work at regaining normality with Cheol and your sanity. You're done for the day and in the middle of packing up, when you see Cheol being approached by a woman. Looking up, you realize it's the tall blonde from a few weeks ago. She speaks quickly and quietly but you hear the words drinks on me tonight.

Your stomach churns and you look away without thinking, hoping to run away before you had to hear any more. But Cheol's voice is clear when he responds, "Sorry, I can't. I'm busy tonight."

You hate the way you're relieved at his rejection, the lack of any remorse in his tone and the way he quickly turns back to you. The blonde woman looks dejected and blinks at his back a few times before leaving.

"Wow," you comment when she's gone, "That was cold."

"You think so?" he asks as if it wasn't clear as day. "I was just making myself clear."

"So you have a no-client dating policy?"

"Nah, not really," Cheol shrugs as he rolls up the mat you had used a few minutes ago. "Plus, she's not even my client anymore."

"Oh," you breathe and then feel a sudden burst of courage run through your veins. "So if I was to ask you out…"

Cheol tilts his head, lips lilting, "What about you asking me out?"

Asshole, of course he's making you spell it out for him. You bite back a smile, "Nothing. Just a thought." With that, you leave him hanging, exiting the gym as if you hadn't proposed to take him out on a date without any real conclusion.

It was complicated, you explain to yourself later. For one, you didn't even think he was into you like that. Sure, he could be touchy and flirty around you when he wanted you, and yeah, maybe he didn't call you anything other than doll, but in real terms, those actions had no meaning behind them. They were just that.

And you didn't enjoy putting yourself out like that– asking someone else out. It had always been the other way around, the guys asking you out after days of you charming them. And where you'd always been anything but yourself with Cheol, you weren't ready to let go of your reputation just yet.

–

Maintaining your reputation takes on a questionable turn that weekend when you pass a hair salon on your way home from shopping for some much-needed home supplies. You stop because the sign outside catches your eye. In flashy bubble letters, it reads GYU'S SALON: come by if you want to rediscover your wild side. You find yourself smiling, hand on the door before you have a second to debate it.

Someone at the counter welcomes you and asks you to wait for a moment while they grab a stylist. You take a seat on the couch and look inside the salon. It's not too packed but there's a few customers, most of them women. You see that most of them are young and the observation comforts you. In particular, you notice a girl taking selfies with her new styled hair– a short layered look with blue ends. It looked cool but too bright for you to pull off.

A kind-looking lady with hair the color of plum approaches you. "Hello, are you here for a hair styling session?"

You stand up, "Ah, yeah, I am. Sorry, I don't have an appointment."

"That's fine, I'm free now," she says with a smile, "You must've seen the sign." You don't how she knows but you simply smile back at her. She nods, "Okay, come with me."

The lady's named April, you find out, and she's the funniest person you've met in a while. She's also an expert in hair, it seems, because she can tell the last time you cut your hair was neary two years ago and even points out that you wash your hair every other day. Eventually, you tell her you want to do something different with your hair but nothing too crazy.

"Define crazy."

"Well, this is my first time dying my hair. But I don't want anything too light and please don't cut my hair too short."

"Gosh, you sure have a lot of demands." Then after a moment of running her hands through your hair, playing with its strands, she comes to a decision. "All right, missy, I have something in mind for you."

Two hours later, you have red hair but not too red. It was the exact shade of wine under the salon lights but when you stepped out of the salon, it was more a dark brown. You'd thanked and tipped April generously for her work because she had come through on her word. In the mirror back at home, you admired your hair. April had trimmed off the ends but made sure your hair retained its length. You didn't regret your decision when you had a whole night to overthink it, thrilled whenever you caught sight of your head in a reflective surface. April might have been God's sweet gift to you.

–

That week you're showered in compliments at work with a coworker stopping at your desk every time they realized it was you sitting there typing away in red hair. You'd been somewhat worried that the change wasn't drastic enough for many to notice but you're proven wrong. Kazuha is the first one you run into that day, meeting her in the elevator and it takes her a glance to notice the new hair.

"Y/N? Your hair is so pretty!" she's spinning you around so she can get a better look, "Oh my God, where'd you get it done? It's amazing." You thank her and vaguely describe the salon you'd found by chance.

Later that evening, you walk unusually slow to the gym, taking your time to dwell on the response you might get from Cheol. You're close to the entrance when you see a familiar figure a few feet away. Before you can confirm your suspicion, you also spot an unmissable head of blonde hair.

It's her again. You feel your heart lurch in your chest as you unwittingly stop in your tracks. She's talking to Cheol, her back to you. If it wasn't for the expression on Cheol's face being a clear one of panic, you might have walked your way without a worry (other than the ones that would've spurred out of jealousy). You aproach them cautiously, wanting to get a better understanding of the situation before interfering.

"...is just mean. You led me on! You told me I was–"

"I'm sorry, Haein, if you feel that way but that's just part of my job," Cheol's voice is strained with suppressed emotions and you speed up, "I need you to stop cornering me–"

"Cheol!" you call out loudly, causing both of them to turn towards you. The blonde, Haein apparently, looks annoyed to find you there and you quietly walk over to Cheol's side. He's quiet when you poke him with your elbow. "What're you doing out here? You're gonna be late to my session!"

"Excuse me, miss, but I was in the middle of–"

"I'm sorry but I pay this guy an unbelievable amount of money to train me," you say in your most obsequious voice, "and I work really hard for the money I make. So unless you're about to pay me more than I pay him just to talk to him, why don't we call it a day here?"

When Haein storms off with a few unintelligible curses your way, you let out a laugh of disbelief. Cheol releases a chuckle from beside you, sighing in relief. "That was–" he starts, "Thanks, Y/N. You saved my ass."

"No worries," you reply, "but I wasn't entirely kidding about what I said. You start showing up late to our sessions and I'll start cutting the paycheck."

"You realize that's not how it works, right? You have to pay the same amount of–"

"I don't care how it works, Cheol," you interrupt him.

"For what it's worth," you hear him say as the two you finally enter the gym through its glass doors. "You were pretty cool back there. I felt so safe and protected with you throwing so many big words at her."

You turn to him with a frown, "Big words? I just talked really fast so she couldn't afford to call my bluff."

Cheol laughs at your confession, "It worked. She looked spooked when she finally ran off."

"So she's been bothering you even after you rejected her?"

"Yeah, looks like she thought we had a thing," he mumbles, "but all I did was my job and there's no nicer way to put it."

You grimace, waving at Seol who perks up at the sight of you arriving with Cheol. "That's tough. You should do something about it. I won't always be around to save the day, you know?"

"You're right," Cheol teases, "I need to become independent."

You pause in front of the changing room, "Okay, I'll go put my things away–"

Cheol breaks you off when he takes a step too close to you, voice dropping to a whisper. "Your hair's cute, doll. I'm a lucky man to have a pretty girl like you worry about me."

And then, he's gone with a flash of his smirk. As if he hadn't just left your veins blazing with the rush his words had caused. You drop to your knees inside the changing room, legs weaker than a day of working them out under Cheol's supervision. There's just no way he isn't messing with you on purpose, right?

But then you recall his words from earlier– all I did was my job and there's no nicer way to put it – and you're not so sure anymore. On the one hand, it was objectively not part of his job to call you doll or to have his hands wander your body or to constantly pester you with questions when you seemed out of it or to call you pretty. But at the same time, you couldn't say it was just him being nice to you, making sure you didn't feel unseen.

Your worries find an answer later that day when you're leaving the changing room after another training session. Cheol intercepts you with a look that you've never seen before– uncertainty.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Yeah, sure, what's up?" you let him pull you aside to a more secluded area behind the reception.

"I know you're too humble to take it seriously but I really do owe you one for earlier," Cheol rubs the back of his neck, a boyish grin on his face, "If you hadn't sepped in, I might have had to agree to go out with her."

"Cheol," you sigh, "I just did that because you looked uncomfortable. You don't have to thank–"

"Thanking you isn't enough," he stresses, "I want to repay you."

You cross your arms, the phrasing of his request piquing your curiosity. "And how exactly do you want to repay me?"

"Let me take you out for dinner."

You hate the way your eyes betray surprise at his words, his pleased smile only doing wonders to the adrenaline rush that slapped you. "What?"

"I know a good place near here but it'll be packed today," Cheol pulls out his phone out of his pants, "But if I make a reservation, we'll be able to get in this week."

"I…"

"Is that a yes?" his eyes are focused on yours, waiting for an answer.

"Sure, but is it okay for us to…?" you find yourself unable to complete your question. "Why wouldn't it be?" Cheol tilts his head, "We're both adults and it's consensual."

"I guess you're right," you admit. Cheol places his phone in front of you, "Your number, doll."

–

If you had thought you were insane a few weeks ago, now you were convinced that you were. Ever since you'd exchanged numbers with Cheol, all you could do was stare at his contact. You'd gone simple, just saving him as Cheol, not before you considered adding a cherry emoji next to his name. It was too much, you decided, settling for the plain name instead.

"Whose murder is she planning this time?"

Wonwoo's question brings you out of your daze and you glare at him. "Yours if you don't shut the fuck up."

"Woah," Wonwoo holds up his hands in surrender, glancing at Lisa, "You sure she isn't up to something?"

"She's got a date tonight," Lisa reveals without a hint of hestitation in her voice. You kick the girl under the table, "Lisa! You're just gonna sell me out like that?"

"Sorry, Y/N, but I have a 100% honesty policy with Woo," she sighs, looking at Wonwoo dreamily. Right, you had almost forgotten. After months of pining for each other, the two had finally confessed to each other, becoming the office's newest couple. It was very sweet and also very inconvenient when you wanted to confide in your best friend.

"Remind me to get a new and single best friend," you murmur to yourself. Wonwoo drags a chair across from you, "So who's the lucky guy?"

"There is no guy. Just a funeral. For you."

"You're so funny today, Y/N," Wonwoo has the audacity to laugh, "Is it someone from your gym? No wonder you've been looking leaner these days. A little extra motivation to hit the gym can go a long way."

"I don't know why I bother hiding things anymore," you cave, "and for the record, it's not because of any guy that I'm getting fitter."

You find yourself doubting your own words that night when you're sitting across from the man, keeling over in laughter at something he said about the menu in this place. It's a unique restaurant with moody lighting and square tables for two scattered across the wooden floors. Most of the tables were already filled with couples, peering over a menu together and sharing a glass of wine.

It's unnervingly romantic, you realize as you sit, tucking the tail of your dress under you. Cheol's eyes never leave you, weighing your reactions to the place. "It's so quiet here," you whisper, still surveying your surroundings, feeling hot under his undivided attention. You hadn't been prepared to be this close. Sure, you had been closer to him in the gym but this was your first time with him in a place outside of the gym, where you couldn't pretend your feelings for him were part of an alter ego you'd made up.

Cheol is real right now, his knees brushing against your bares ones under the table. He looks different tonight, clad in a nice navy shirt whose buttons were unsuprisingly strained against his chest. It was unfair how attractive he looked in a plain outfit.

"You like wine?"

You look at him with a start and nod quickly, "Yeah, I do."

"And what about me?" Cheol sneaks the question in, teeth baring as he grins at your panicked expression. "I'm just kidding. Sorry, I can't help it. You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"And you're just as much of an asshole when you're not in the gym."

He shrug, defined collarbone peeking out at you at the movement. "I'm always myself," he tells you.

The night progresses slowly with Cheol taking his time getting to know you, raining you in question after question about your life– when did you start working? Did you have siblings? Why did you move to the city so young? How many exes did you have? What was your favorite kind of coffee?

"You have a dog?" you exclaim when he shows you a photo of a white Maltese with a doting smile on his face. You hit his arm across the table, "Why wasn't that the first thing you told me?"

Cheol laughs with his head thrown back, "Really? That's what gets you? My dog? I'd take you to meet her but she's living with my brother because I got too busy."

"She's so cute, Cheol! I didn't think you of all people would have a dog."

"What do you mean, me of all people?"

You pause before thinking over your words. "You seem… distant. I thought you would like living alone so nobody bothers you."

Cheol sighs at your words, "What have I done for you to have such an impression of me?"

"I don't know, something about the way you're always cynical? Or your general condescending tone? Or that one time when you told me you hated your friends for being office-workers?"

"Okay, so you clearly like exaggerating things," he protests, "I love my friends, I just wish they lived more. And I'm not cynical, just…"

"Realistic?" you finish his sentence, "Trust me, that's what I tell people, too. But it's all a lie."

"You have a lot to say for someone who actually lives all by herself," Cheol accuses you with a sip of his wine, eyes narrowing, "And I feel like you're way colder than I am. It took me a week to get you to start calling me by my name and not just wait for me to look at you when you needed something."

You groan, "Can you not bring that up? I'm still embarrassed about that."

"Cute," he chirps, "But seriously, you're kinda scary when you're in your head. I get the chills when I imagine what you must be like at work."

"You imagine what I'm like at work?" you tease him, leaning back in your chair.

"You're the one who's telling me you're not like this at work," he points out, "Whatever that means."

"It means I'm cool as a cucumber," you finally say, "I'm a little scary but only to people who deserve it. But I'm mostly just cool. Or at least I was."

Cheol waits for you to go on and you scrape at your empty plate with a fork, missing the pasta you had just devoured just so you could distract yourself. "I was cool before I… met you, I guess."

"Really?" Cheol does nothing to hide the glad grin that breaks out on his face, "What did I do?"

"Pushed me to my limit," you roll your eyes, "You forced me out of my comfort zone."

"So in other words, I bring out your wild side?"

You flush at his choice of words, "Well, I don't know if I'd say that but… maybe."

–

Your date with Cheol is a dream; he pays for the meal, walks you out with a hand on your waist. He even kisses you goodnight, a kiss that's on your mind for the longest time. His lips are beyond your dreams, plump and demanding on yours. It's too bad neither of you make another move because the night ends at a kiss.

You can't wait to see him again, but as it turns out the following week means hell for you at work. You're absolutely swamped in your new assignments, with it being the middle of the month. There's increased visits from superiors and your boss insists you attend every meeting, a gesture that promised you that a promotion was in sight.

It's that hope that keeps you going. You pull a few all-nighters to draft various proposals now that you're your boss' direct right-hand, working earnestly to improve the stellar performance that you were finally getting recognition for. It's on Friday evening that your boss finally notices the bags under your eyes, scolding you for pushing yourself hard. She rushes you out of the office, ordering you to take the day off or she'd force you to.

You reluctantly do as she says, feeling hollow when you step outside in the fresh air. Your eyes feel heavy and you can't say you feel like doing much. Then, you remember Cheol's touch on your skin and with rejuvenated enthusiasm, you take your phone out.

You consider texting him but then settle on calling him since he'd be too busy to check his messages. But as it turns out, he's too busy to pick up too. After some thinking, you decide you'd pay him a visit in the gym anyway, ignoring the lightheaded feeling that threatened to consume you.

Seol greets you at the counter, "Y/N! We missed you this week! Are you okay?"

You sigh, "Yeah, sorry. Work stuff. Is Cheol in?" She nods, much to your relief. "Yeah, he's just finishing up with a client. He should be free for a session in 10."

You thank her as you head in. You knew it wasn't the best idea to work out in this state, but all you could suddenly think about was how Cheol might've taken your absence for the week to be your response to the date. And you hated the thought of that, so you rush to the changing room.

You're 5 minutes into walking on the treadmill when Cheol's familiar presence makes itself known. "Y/N?"

"Cheol, hey," you say, slowing down, "Sorry I wasn't in this whole week, I've been really busy with work."

"That's fine, I figured it'd be something like that." You're surprised he takes it so well, even offering you a small smile. Then, he notices the way you look, eyebags and all. "Hey, doll, are you okay? You look tired."

"Oh, I'm fine, just a little out of it."

"Okay, why don't you take a rest?" He stops the machine before you have a say, his arm firmly pulling you off. His hand then comes to rest against your cheek and you smile against his touch. "You're warm, doll. I don't think you should be working out today."

"But–"

"I don't want to hear it," he's pulling you out of the cardio room without hearing you out. "Come with me. Is there a friend you can call to pick you up?"

"Um, sure, but I can just go home on my own–"

"Just do as I say if you want to live to see another day– And I swear to god, if you make another joke about death, I'll hurt you myself."

"Ooh," you coo at him as he enters the elevator with you, hitting the 5th floor. "Threatening me now? Is that how you treat a pretty girl?"

Cheol's breath is shaky when he lets out a sigh, averting his gaze. "What about when the pretty girl ghosts me for a whole week?"

"I told you, Cheol, I was busy–"

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing. I was just scared I did something wrong for a second." He doesn't let you say anything when the elevator opens, continuing, "Anyway, you can rest in my office while your friend comes to get you."

"You have an office?"

Cheol laughs at your shocked question, "Yeah, that's what I get for bringing in the most clients here. Anyway, go in and take a seat. I'll get you something to drink." You walk into his office, bewildered by the room. He had a nicer desk than you did and little polaroids decorated the board next to his window. It was a cozier place than you would expected to find in a gym. You sit in a chair, giggling at a photo of Kkuma on the wall, wearing a bow the same shade of pink as her tongue.

"So adorable," you say under your breath.

"I know I am," Cheol startles you, coming up next you with a bottle of water.

You elbow him away, starting to feel unusually hot out of the blue. "Sorry, I know it's kinda hot," he apologizes, "I asked them to turn the air up but it takes a while for it to actually work."

You don't say anything, focused on getting your vision to stop losing focus and the man takes a seat across from, concern painting his face when he catches your dazed look. "Hey, look at me. Take a deep breath for me. What's wrong?"

"Hot," you mumble, pressing a hand against your sweaty forehead. It felt like the short five minute walk was catching up to you all at once, your heart starting to hammer wildly in your chest. You press against it in pain.

"Doll," Cheol's voice mellows out, his hand taking yours in his. "Drink some water for me." You do as he says, but the water is lukewarm, doing nothing to help. You swallow hard against the dryness in your throat.

"Okay, that's not going to work," he lets out. And then, his hands are your waist, grabbing the fabric of your shirt, "Y/N, I'm going to take your top off, 'kay?"

Even in your queasy state, you manage to jump at his touch on your bare stomach. "Cheol, I…"

"Trust me, doll," he leans down to meet your eyes. "It'll help." With an obedient hum, you let Cheol take control, him peeling the layer of fabric off your skin. You feel much better almost instantly, the warm air hitting your bare skin. You sigh out as you rest your head in your hands.

"Thanks," you breathe, "I feel like shit."

"That's okay." You look up at him when you catch the hitch in his voice. Through the fuzziness in your vision, you see Cheol avoiding your gaze. You reach for his bicep in your confusion, "Cheol."

He turns to you, eyes wavering as they trail down your neck. You feel heat shoot to your neck at his gaze and he coughs awkwardly. "Sorry," his voice is hoarse, "I'm not looking."

"You can," you state boldly, turning to him. You were wearing an old bra, a plain black thing that had kept you company for decades now, the lace in the back unravelling with wear. But the way Cheol looked at you right now, you could've been wearing the fanciest lingerie in season.

"Y/N," he warns you.

You're feeling better by the moment, vision clearing as your body tempertaure returns to normal. But instead of overheating, you find yourself losing focus for a different reason. You shift closer to Cheol, "If you're embarrassed, do something about it."

Your words stun him, his eyes wide as he stares back to make sure you were the one saying them. But all he finds is unbridled lust in your gaze, hand clawing at his knee, begging him to do something, anything that could help your state.

In a flash, Cheol's shirt is off and you drink in the sight before you hungrily. The sight you'd only ever imagined and dreamed about is finally yours to enjoy and you're going to make every moment worth it. When Cheol hears the desperate mewl you let out, he's pulling you close, hands encompassing your waist. You're on his lap before you know, knees hitting the valley of his pelvis.

"Fuck, you're hotter than I imagined," you groan out, hands roaming his bare back. He bites back an undignified sound at your comment, "Doll, you're making this really hard for me."

You feel his body burning up under yours and you're not sure which one of you is out of breath, but you're panting into his mouth the next thing you know. "This is crazy," he mumbles into you and you can't help but chuckle. "I know," you shoot, thumbs on his cheeks, tracing the skin around his lips. "But I think I went crazy the day I set my eyes on you."

Your shameless admission has Cheol groaning into your skin, his lips attaching to your neck. You feel him bury his face in your hair, inhaling deeply before he finds your face again. "You don't know the kinds of thoughts I've had about you," he laughs, eyes hooded, "I can't even think about you without losing it."

You're about to reveal a part of your suffering when your phone starts ringing. When you see Wonwoo's name on the screen, you jump up with a curse. "Shit, it's Wonwoo."

"Who?"

"He's here to pick you up."

"Why?"

You glare at Cheol, "Because you asked me to ask a friend."

"Right," he says slowly, running a hand through his hair. Even now, all you can think is about the way his stomach contracts with the sharpness of his breath. God, you want him so bad.

"I'm gonna ask him to come up here but we should probably get dressed–"

"I don't want to."

You stare at Cheol with a dumbfounded expression. "Cheol, we have to." After much convincing, you manage to get Cheol's shirt back on, just in time for the knock that comes on his door.

"Wonwoo?" you open the door and smile at your friend. Wonwoo looks worried, not returning your greeting. "Y/N, what the fuck is wrong with you? You didn't get the day off so you could come here and–"

Wonwoo's reprimand is cut short when he catches sight of the other man in the room, mouth hanging open. "Oh, this is–" you turn to introduce Cheol but he's already at your side, holding his hand out for Wonwoo. "Seungcheol," his voice has dropped a magical two octaves, eyes cold.

"I'm Wonwoo, Y/N's friend," Wonwoo says back, shaking his hand uneasily. "Anyway, let's get you out of here–" Wonwoo's hand is on yours to guide you out when Cheol's breaking between you, sticking his arm out in front of you with a frown.

"Cheol, what're you–"

"Sorry, you don't have to bother. I'll take her home."

You gape at his declaration, attempting to shake some sense into him with a harsh Cheol under your breath. But he remains unyielding, staring at Wonwoo to back off. Your friend looks puzzled and you sigh, "Wonwoo, I'll come with–"

But Wonwoo's taking a step back, a playful glint in his eye, "Oh, wait, I just remembered I have a thing to pick up for the boss before I go home. Sorry, Y/N, you'll be fine, right?" He doesn't even bother waiting to hear you confirm your safety before he's rushing down the stairs, not even bothering with the elevator.

When he's gone, you stare at Cheol's back. "What the fuck was that?"

He turns to you, "We're not done here."

"Really? That's your excuse? I can't believe you made me call Wonwoo all the way out here–"

"That was before you got me all worked up, doll," he snaps, "And to top it all off, you expected me to watch you get escorted out of here by another man? I'm a nice guy but I can't just let him get his hands all over you."

You can't help the laugh that leaves you, "Cheol, are you jealous right now? Wonwoo's a friend and he's–" Before you can tell him that Wonwoo's already dating Lisa, Cheol's lips are on you, shutting you up for good. He pulls away when you're too weak to say anything back. "I'll drive you home, doll, so stop worrying. I'll apologize to your friend if I have to, but let me take care of you tonight."

Cheol's true to his word, watching your every move as he walks you to his car. You wonder for a second if he came from money, to be able to afford such a nice car on a gym trainer's salary and then, lose your train of thought when he leans forward to strap your seatbelt in. Catching the flush on your cheeks, he chuckles softly, "You're too nervous, doll. I'm not going to kill you and bury your body so why don't you relax for me?"

He turns on the music, soft jazz hitting your ears and easing your nerves. You quietly ask, "Are we going to your place?"

"Since I don't know where you live," he says, "My place it is."

Cheol's a good driver, not to your surprise, with you falling asleep in the passenger seat on the drive to his home. He stirs you awake 20 minutes later, smiling, "We're here."

Your suspicions about Cheol's wealth are confirmed when you set foot in his place, convinced he was sitting on a crazy inheritance to afford the huge apartment where he lived. "My parents divorced when I was young," he explains when he understands your inquisitory looks, "And my mom felt bad about leaving my life so this is her way of saying sorry. Showering me with luxury. It's burdening but I love her too much to say no at this point."

"Plus," he adds, coming to cup your hand in his, "I get to impress girls with it."

You laugh at his comment, pushing him away, "I'm sure you've have lots of girls over."

"You're the only one that matters," he insists, "At least the only sick one I've brought home just so I can nurse back to health."

He sits you down on his couch, pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I'll make you something to eat, okay? Food's the best medicine."

–

In the following weeks, you come to fall even harder for Cheol because outside the gym, he's a man full of love. He meets you after work every day, leading you to his car so you don't have to take the subway, not paying any mind to your protests. He even holds your hand the whole drive back to either of your places, more often his than yours, because he likes to cook you dinner in his kitchen before he makes love to you in his bed.

It's dizzying, being this in love with a man you've lusted after for so long. The sex is mind-blowing, somehow even better than your dreams. You explore his body every second that you can, lips finding their place on his when you're not busy talking. You kiss his back tattoo and tell how much you love it, tracing the lines of the olive tree until you could draw it in your sleep. He shivers under your touch, his tongue on your own tattoo every time you leave your back exposed around him.

"I tried so hard to keep my hands off you the first time you showed up in that backless bra," he admits one evening, circling your tattoo. "Seeing your tattoo made me feel crazy. I could barely think straight that whole day. All I wanted was to feel every inch of your body."

You bury your head in the pillows beneath you, "I knew it! You did that shit on purpose!"

"Of course I did," his large hands roll you off your stomach and onto your back so you're making eye contact with him. "You think I call every pretty client of mine doll? You think I feel all of them up and down?"

"I hoped you didn't," you sigh into his mouth when it inevitably descends on yours.

"You must think I'm a slut if you doubted it for a second," he laughs. You shrug, "You were too hot to not be one."

It's too late to take your words back when Cheol sits up with a pout, "Wow… That's what I get for being into you? You know what–"

"I'm kidding! Cheol, stop, don't go! I was kidding! Hey, come back!"

–

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pboogerswbb · 3 months ago

Text

SO IT GOES - chapter 8

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: angst, panic attack/ptsd, descriptions of an abusive relationship Wordcount: 5.1K A/C: HEY MY BABIESSSS instead of talking about the game let's just read this chapter okay? okay. (would love to say this will cheer you up but prepare for some angst lol). anyway thank you for being patient with me AGAIN! i'll be real i've been feeling a little unmotivated bc of the anons i get rushing me and it's really getting to my head but i'm pretty sure most of them have disappeared and left are you all amazing lovely patient people so yay :)) ty for supporting me and this series ily mwah

Before London

“Good game, Paige,” Phee whispers into my ear as she hugs me tight. I’m standing next to Dorka, just done taking what felt like 500 pictures with her. I let out a self-deprecating laugh, raising my brows at the woman. Phee smiles with empathy, rubbing my shoulder, still sweaty and sticky from the game.

“No one’s first game is good,” she comforts me. We’re standing in the middle of the court, people buzzing around us as the crowd makes its way out. From the corner of my eye I see Izara’s jet black hair set in perfect waves, joined by Trey standing next to her, hand on her lower back. A flash of jealousy shoots through my body watching the two of them, laughing as they walk through the crowd filming content. I didn’t want anyone touching her but me. Ever. I knew we were just supposed to be friends but it felt impossible. Whenever my eyes landed on her my soul burned, every part of me craving her in a way that I knew was more than just friendship, or even more than lust.

“We went brick for brick huh?”

My blue eyes move from Izzie to Arike, her hand squeezing my shoulder. The woman was right, neither of our shots had gone in. Neither of us had found a pace or confidence to support one another. It was almost embarrassing. No, it was definitely embarrassing. Especially when I saw my dad’s face in the crowd, hissing to himself when I missed both my free throws. The only thing that could make me feel better now was getting to take Izara, no interruptions, no thoughts, just me and her.

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Zari’s eyes lift and land on mine. With a softened gaze, I let out a sigh of relief, swimming in her green eyes lined with black as time seems to slow down around me. The other people might as well not exist. It’s only her.

“Yeah,” I chuckle quietly to Arike, pushing through her and the rest of the crowd, urgent steps just wanting to feel the dark haired girl. She’s alone now, holding a notepad, standing in the middle of the court surrounded by crowds of people, sounds of chatter echoing around the arena.

“Paige-” Izzie mumbles as I reach her, but with a simple look I silence her, hand wrapping into hers as I pull her behind me off the court, away from everyone. The corridors are quiet, dim, yet I navigate them with ease. The sounds of the crowd turn muffled, the noise of our heavy breathing and hurried steps overtaking them. My heart pounds in my chest, weakened body ready for surrender.

I pull us into a darkened unlocked room, some sort of storage I guess but I’m too busy to look around and make sure. As the door closes I push her against it in the dark, my sweaty body still in the brand new, strange jersey, pressing into Izara. I’m barely conscious of kissing her, my body working before my head can. But I feel starved, tongue meeting hers as our lips collide.

“Wait, wait,” Iz mumbles breathlessly, but I don’t hear it. The pounding in my chest too loud in my head. My hands travel from her waist to her hips, squeezing the skin as I slot my thigh between her legs.

“Paige…” the girl mumbles with a whimper, a raspy moan spilling from my lips against hers.

“Please baby,” I murmur, feeling like I could cry from how overwhelming the ache in my body is growing. Stirring within me are all the feelings combining into one - disappointment, failure, sorrow, longing, want. I wanted to bury them all into the girl in front of me.

I’m kissing her neck now, my fingertips slipping underneath her top. Her bare brown, silky skin feels smooth and delicate.

“Paige, stop.”

“Huh?” I ask, nose nuzzling her skin, inhaling.

“Stop, please.”

Confused, I pull back, my hands resting on her waist as Izzie’s green eyes avoid my gaze, looking around the dim room.

“Are you okay ma?” I ask, attempting to calm down my breathing.

Izzie’s brows are furrowed and she licks her lips, a soft sigh escaping her mouth.

“We have to talk.”

“Bro, I just played the worst game of my career, let’s talk after,” I chuckle sarcastically. “Need you baby.”

I lean down to kiss her neck again but Izzie’s manicured hand is on my chest, holding me back. Her eyes are rounder than usual as she stares up at me.

“Paige, we really need to talk. Now.”

She’s serious. I can tell she is. Without thinking the first thought I have slips my mouth.

“Is it Jasper?” I ask, pulling my hands off her body.

There’s a moment of silence. I can barely see her face sink in the dark, eyes slowly growing used to the lack of light. Izara rolls her eyes and turns to step out of the room but my hand is on the handle before she can reach it.

“Ma,” I murmur, pressing my front into her back.

“You can’t call me that anymore Paige,” she sighs, back facing me.

My heart sinks, my mind trying to wrap around what she’s saying. The implications of what the words might mean. I pray to God I’m wrong.

“Whatchu mean Iz?” I ask, voice beginning to shake with anxiety. The girl turns around, chewing on her bottom lip - something I had never seen her do.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

There it is. What I was dreading. I’m glad it’s dark, that the girl doesn’t see my eyes begin to well up. Why would I cry? We had never been anything. We’d never even fucked. So why did I feel like my heart was about to break?

“Whatchu mean this?” I ask, it takes every bit of my concentration to maintain a steady voice.

The dark haired girl sighs, eyes roaming me for a moment. “I could get fired,” she whispers. “If we got caught.”

“Who gives a shit?” I ask, scoffing. She could always get a new job. I thought I’d be worth more. But then again why would I be? She was the one who said it was just sex. Except it hadn’t even had the chance to be that.

“You must be joking,” Izara jeers, finally pushing me off her. “You are so selfish.”

She’s reaching for the door handle but I hold it shut. I can’t have her leave like this.

“Bro no I didn’t mean it like that,” I sigh. I always had a habit of speaking before I thought it through when my feelings took over. “I just… I’m having a hard time getting what you’re tryna say.”

“What I’m saying,” she starts. “Is that we can’t keep fooling around anymore.”

She takes a deep sigh. “Actually, I don’t know if it’s so smart for us to be friends anymore Paige.”

The panic sets in, my heart beginning to pound at a rapid rate.

“Wh-what? The fuck you mean we can’t be friends?”

“I mean from now on we should keep our relationship strictly professional.”

Her voice is so cold, calculated, that it’s almost like it doesn’t even matter to her. That it doesn’t phase her one bit.

“Is that what you want?” I ask sternly, mirroring the coldness of her voice.

“I-” the girl starts. “I can’t lose this job. I can’t go back to London.”

“Aight.”

I walk out.

And just like that I lose my best friend. My only friend in all of Texas. Sure I had Arike, I had Lou and I had the team. But she was my only friend, the only one I felt like I could truly talk to, who truly got me. And I lost her. Just like that.

Need paige to look at me like that fr

yoooooo paige ntm

BOAFFFF who that next to Paige???

Paige got a starin problem

PAIGE IN LOVE WITH THAT GIRL ARE YOU KIDDING

My eyes skim through comment after comment under the video filmed before Paige’s first game in the Wings. We hadn’t been as slick as we thought. In hindsight it was obvious, the way Paige’s blue eyes roamed my body with that sly smirk, the way my cheeks flush red when my eyes met hers. God, I can’t believe I had been behaving like that, right before my peers. The people I worked with. In a public video. I felt so embarrassed. It just wasn’t me. That had been a couple weeks ago now though.

“Zari, stop reading the comments sweetheart,” Trey chuckles, resting a hand on my shoulder. I sigh, putting the phone down and groaning.

“We should just delete it.”

“Nah,” the man says. “Would be weird to delete it now.”

I sigh, looking up at him. His hand comes to my chin, holding my gaze. “Linda’s not gonna read em.”

“You sure?” I ask carefully. Trey nods, brushing a strand of hair off my face. It annoys me, but I don’t know how to reject his touch.

“You ready to head home?” He asks.

“I can take an uber Trey,” I murmur, pulling away from him finally, unease stirring in my stomach.

“C’mon, I don’t mind driving you.”

“You sure? it’s out the way for you.”

“Let’s go home Zari.”

We walk to the car, Trey’s voice echoing in the hallway but I barely hear him, the faint sound of Paige’s voice laughing on the court making its way into my ears and taking me out of whatever the man next to me is trying to say. The weight on my chest makes it hard to breathe. I fan myself, trying to help the airflow.

Other than the occasional talk regarding media work, or the rare interview on TikTok I hadn’t spoken to Paige for 13 days. Not more than a hello, or a “good game” after a night of watching her on the court. When we met in the apartment stairway there barely was an awkward smile as we passed each other. I missed her badly.

I had realised I hated Dallas, I hated the fake niceness of the Americans, I hated the heat that had grown unbearable in the past couple weeks. But I loved my job. I loved working with the sport I loved. I was good at it. I think everything would be better if I found a position with another team, but it would be risky to ask around. I was in a rut, my only friend was Trey.

The entire drive home is silent on my part as I stare out the window at the other cars. Driving home used to be my favourite part of the day. I felt giddy as Paige opened the door for me, as we took turns picking songs to play. I felt my heart drop everytime we said bye. I found myself sitting in my living room staring at the living room, thinking about her afterwards. Her blue eyes, the way she looked at me as if I was the only person on the planet. How her gentle grazes felt on my brown skin.

So I repeat that routine, urgently saying bye to Trey and hurrying into my apartment. Closing the door and plopping myself down on the couch, staring at the wooden shelf decorating the otherwise blank wall in silence. The shelf Paige put up for me.

As I’m five minutes into my staring ritual a strange faint thumping noise reaches my ears, distant but clear in a steady rhythm. It’s coming from above. It’s coming from the blonde’s apartment. No doubt.

Just as I stand up to walk around and listen to the sound further, high pitched whimpers and gasps reach my ears. It doesn’t take more for the nauseating mental image of what’s happening in the apartment above to pop into my head. These walls were thick too, no noise, stomping, or music came through. Ever. It felt like torture. The stirring thoughts of what Paige was doing to some girl, lying on top of her, pinning her down. The way she was on top of me. The way I nearly got to have her.

“Fucking shit,” I mumble to myself, shaking my head as I rummage my bag for my headphones, turning the first song I find on a volume that might make me go deaf. Good. Anything to cover up the noise.

I hated Dallas. I had somehow convinced myself for a brief, fleeting moment that it wasn’t so bad. I was wrong. I hated it here. I had begun to dread every game. I was in a rut. I had no idea how to get out. My first two weeks in the league had been disastrous. Thank the Lord for Arike, for she had taken me under her wing, motivating me to stay consistent, challenging me in practice to do my best. But in front of the crowd, in front of all the players I grew up watching and admiring, I bricked up.

Chris was an angel. Telling me I’d get over it as long as I didn’t give up. I wasn’t a quitter and I found comfort in the fact that other freshmen had a hard start to the season as well. Except Olivia Miles who had been hustling like crazy in the Storms. She earned it, but still the competitive side of me was drowning in jealousy. That was supposed to be me. I needed to be the rookie of the year. But this rut was taking all the joy out of me. I know what Geno would be saying. That I’m throwing myself a pity party and I needed to get over it. And once again I’d hate to admit that he’s right.

It took every ounce of strength I had to stay away from Izzie. To not gaze at her when she appeared in the corner of my eye, to not yearn for her presence when I lay in the dark at night, to not inhale as deeply as humanly possible every time she passed me. It felt like torture to pretend nothing happened between us.

To my demise it wasn’t just her body I longed for. It was her giggles, her stern stares when I played too much, it was her existence that I missed the most. Her weight on the opposite end of the couch, her quiet humming as she sat in the passenger seat of my car. It was killing me to stay away from her. Killing me. The only momentary relief I found was hooking up with other girls, but the moment it was over I always wanted them gone as quickly as I could.

“I’m sitting next to you okay?” Lou murmurs as us Wings pile into the airplane, moving in a slow line towards our seats.

“Good, I’mma need to take a nap,” I mumble, my voice hoarse and tired. We’re flying out to Chicago for a late night game, forcing us to catch a 5AM flight. Inhumane working conditions, I swear.

Somewhere behind me Izara is whispering to someone, her voice immediately recognisable to me even as a faint sound. My stomach turns as I grind my teeth together to distract from the desire to flip my head and look at her just for a moment. I slide myself into my seat next to the window, but as Lou is about to follow after, Chris stops her.

“Sorry, I know it’s early but Trey said they got an idea for some media stuff for you Paige. You don’t mind right?” Chris asks, holding Lou back and looking around. Before I can stop him or resist, he’s waving someone over. “Zari! You can do it now!”

The dark haired girl’s eyes widen as she looks around, trying to find someone to replace her. There’s no one. I want to die and from the look on the girl’s face, so does she.

“Just come sit next to Paige, c’mon, don’t be shy,” Chris chuckles, clearly unaware of how close we used to be. Good, at least we fooled someone. He might’ve been the only one we fooled.

Izzie looks as classy and elegant as ever, holding a beige trench coat in her hands, wearing boots and a champagne coloured satin skirt, hair and makeup done to perfection even at 5AM, standing out in a sea of messy hair and hoodies. I can tell she’s uneasy as she passes Chris and Lou, whispering a sorry to the brunette girl. I immediately stand up out of an old habit, pointing to my seat.

“You want the window one?” I ask gently, quietly, so no one hears my voice shaking.

Her green eyes twinkle as she looks everywhere but me, smiling awkwardly. “No, thank you though. I’m fine here.”

We sit down together, the heat radiating off her shoulder nearly rubbing against me making my eyes flutter shut just for a second. This better be quick or I might explode.

“Uh ok,” I mumble, watching as she sets her purse down and pulls out that notepad full of lists, mind maps and schedules that she always carries around. “Soo… how you been?”

“Just fine,” she whispers absentmindedly, looking for the right page. “I mean, good. I’ve been good. And you?”

The way she talks to me causes an ache in my heart, the coldness of her tone as if we were nothing more than co-workers. I guess that’s all we were now.

“I’m fine,” I reply with equal distance in my voice. “So whassup?”

“Well me and Trey,” of course her and Trey. All she did nowadays was walk around with him, giggling and whispering, letting Trey guide her by the small of her back. “We thought the fans might like it if you filmed a sort of game day vlog today. Would that be okay?”

I sigh, the tiredness not helping the pregame anxiety already making my chest tight. “Uhh, today?”

“I know, it’s going to be such a long day,” Zari mumbles, her eyes meeting mine, suddenly filled with empathy. “I’m sorry.” I think she might mean more than just today. I think she means us.

For a moment we stare at each other, and I think I see a hint of longing in her eye, but it soon disappears when Trey plops himself on the aisle seat on the other side of Izzie.

“How are we doing here ladies?” He asks, looking at the dark haired girl, bringing his hand to squeeze Izzie’s knee. Pulling my hand into a fist, I quickly look away, body trembling with jealousy. I hated Trey. I hated how he touched the girl I was meant to be with.

“We’re good Trey,” Izara smiles softly, but moves her leg further away from the man.

“You sure Zari?”

His tone softens, hand following the girl's knee despite the clear sign she doesn’t want to be touched by him. I grind my teeth together trying not to intervene. I know if anyone it’s Izzie who can handle herself.

“Trey,” the girl sighs. “We’re just fine. I’ll show Paige what to do and come sit with you, okay?”

She’s annoyed. I can tell because I knew her, really knew her. Trey doesn’t.

“Okay, I’mma go to my seat,” Trey smiles, waving bye to me. I barely lift my hand in response.

“Dude’s persistent,” I mumble, watching as he walks away. Iz scoffs, returning to her notepad.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” she murmurs. I scoff too, leaning back on the seat and spreading my legs further to feel Izara’s calf against mine. She doesn’t move, matter of fact I think she presses back just the tiniest bit.

“I mean that guy wants you bad,” I whisper.

Izara’s green eyes flicker to mine for a moment, before she rolls them. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I thought Linda didn’t like y’all dating coworkers.”

“She doesn’t.”

“Then why you letting Trey feel you up and shit?”

“Paige,” Zari warns me with a quiet scoff. Her eyes are stern. I know she means it. But I can’t help the jealousy stirring in me.

“If you into him you shoulda just said.”

“Paige!” She scoffs, eyes widening in shock at my attitude. I’m taking it too far, but I felt overwhelmed with everything going on in my life. And it’s not like I was ruining our friendship, it was already ruined.

So I don’t answer or back down. I stare straight into her green eyes, not looking away. Izzie’s entire face hardens as she rolls her eyes and is about to stand up, I assume to switch seats just as the seatbelt light turns on.

“You gotta sit do-”

“I know!” She huffs. I had never seen her composure crack this much out in public. It gave me a sick kind of satisfaction, to know I was getting under her skin.

We sit in silence, the girl tapping her foot nervously as the plane begins to move towards the runway. Iz chews on her lower lip, fingers scratching her arms, eyes shut. She’s anxious.

“You okay?” I ask, softening my voice a little.

The girl sighs, eyes fluttering open. “I hate the takeoff.”

I nod, watching Izara closely. Not sure what to say as we begin to accelerate for the ascend, I offer my hand to her. Without hesitation, the dark haired girl grabs it. I feel like I might burst into tears, realising just how bad I had missed her soft hand in mine, her gentle fingers grazing against my skin. As the plane takes off Izzie’s fingers tighten around my fingers, long nails digging into my skin. I don’t mind. Matter of fact I hope she draws blood, I hope she leaves scars and marks me forever. So she can be a part of me and my existence until I die.

She doesn’t let go until the seatbelt light turns off.

“Fucking shit!” I groan to myself, slamming the bench in the dressing room. Another shit game. Not for everyone, we won. But for me. And I couldn’t blame the coaching, I couldn’t blame the team, I couldn’t blame anyone but me. I felt livid. Furious. I couldn’t believe this was how my story had turned out. This couldn’t be God’s plan for me. It wasn’t right.

What made it even worse was the online discourse. The comments and the noise had become too much. I couldn’t open Twitter or TikTok without seeing comments of how I fell off, of how Uconn ruined me, how I had officially flopped. That I’d always be the girl who peaked in college.

“Fuck,” I hiss to myself as I feel Arike’s hand come to my shoulder and squeeze comfortingly as she passes me - a wordless comforting gesture that had become routine for us. She knew I wasn’t in the mood to talk after games like that.

“I’mma get some air,” I mumble, fully aware that I was behaving like a toddler who couldn’t get her way. I couldn’t help it. It was like I was out of my body, watching as I pull the jersey off in frustration and throw it behind me on the floor, walking out of the dressing room with a slam of the door.

“Ow!” Izzie’s screams as she bumps into my chest. Hard.

“Shit!” I yelp, grabbing her shoulders.

The dark haired girl chuckles softly, clearly unaware of my bad mood. “Hey, I was just looking for you. I was going to suggest that you-”

“Iz, no offense but not right now,” I groan as I walk past her, trying to keep the anger bubbling right beneath the surface in check. It wasn’t working, I could feel myself wanting to explode, skin itching and feeling hot.

“Oh,” she hums, following after me. “I’m sorry… Is there something I can do?”

“Fuck, Zari! Just leave me alone!”

My voice echoes back to me in the empty hallways. The scream is harsh, mean. I never call her Zari. I would never yell at her like this. I can’t believe myself. It immediately takes me out of my anger, and in that moment I turn over to see her.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Iz-”

The room is spinning, my pulse rushing into my head. I hear the thumping of my heartbeat in my ears. Cheeks growing hot. I might be sick. I can feel my hands trembling - no, not my hands. My whole body. Without letting the blonde finish her apology, I walk off. I don’t hear anything but the pounding in my head.

Every raised voice I heard nowadays had me struggling. Ever since my engagement I couldn’t handle being screamed at. Something about the yelling fits Jasper got into had left a permanent mark on me. I could feel my palms sweating as I walk away from Paige aimlessly, unsure where I was going. Unaware of the blonde following after me until her clammy hands grab my shoulders.

“Izzie, I’m sorry, I dunno why I yelled ma,” she says remorsefully but it barely registers. In the midst of some sort of panic attack I try to fan myself, my clothes suddenly seeming too tight and overstimulating against my skin. I can feel the seams digging in, the tags rubbing into me irritatingly.

“Izzie you okay mama?”

My breathing grows shallower, head increasingly spinning more and more. Suddenly I feel hands wrapping around my body and pulling me into a tight hug, warm breath tickling in my ear.

“Breathe. Breathe with me Izzie,” her comforting, hoarse voice whispers. I feel her body expanding against mine as she takes slow, deep breaths. Focusing on the feeling I follow her pattern of breathing, now and then breaking into fast gulps of air only calmed down by Paige, reminding me to focus on her breathing as she rubs my back gently. Eventually the feeling of being unable to breath passes, replaced by utter exhaustion and lingering sadness. My body melts into Paige’s, molds against hers perfectly as we sit there and embrace. As the blonde begins to pull away I realise I don’t want her to let go of me. So I wrap my arms around her waist and tighten my hold of her. She gets the hint and embraces me for another five minutes or so. Until distant steps echo around the corridor.

“Someone’s coming,” I whisper, realising I’d been crying when I hear my own voice, shaky and soft.

Paige pulls back just enough to look around before pulling me into a random room. The fluorescent lights of the bathroom are bright compared to the dim corridor. I blink my tears away as Paige sits me down on the edge of the sink, never letting her hands fall of me. They rub comfortingly as she chases my gaze, a sad look in her eye.

“Are you okay?”

I nod. I’m not, but better than earlier. Better now that she was here with me.

Paige sighs, shaking her head to herself. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to I was just-”

“No, I understand,” I nod. It had been hard to watch the first couple weeks of Paige’s time with the Wings. I knew how bad she needed a win for herself, how badly she deserved it. I could tell it was wearing her down. “Was a bad game.”

“Yeah but I never woulda yelled if I knew you freaked out like that.”

“I know,” I nod, sniffling a little. Paige grabs some toilet paper and hands it to me. I offer her a weak smile as I pat the tears off my cheeks. “I just…”

A deep sigh. I had never talked about this with anyone.

“My last relationship was really… just shit, yeah?” I explain. Paige furrows her brows, and I can tell she’s really listening. Really understanding how important this was for her to hear.

“And, he yelled a lot. Threw things, hit things, he never touched me but he’d break dishes and explode over the smallest things and somehow always make me out to be the bad guy. The one who needed to apologise- well anyway, ever since then I just… I can’t handle yelling. At all.”

Paige’s blue eyes blink at me as she nods, understanding. There’s a veil of sadness over her face.

“I know I overreacted. I’m sorry Paige,” I mumble meeting her gaze but immediately the blonde shakes her head.

“No, fuck, I’m sorry Iz,” she sighs licking her lips. “I’m never raising my voice around you again. I pr-”

“No, it’s just something I need to learn to live with,” I resist but Paige shakes her head again, more sternly now.

“I promise. Never, okay?”

We look at each other for a moment. I wish I could tell her how badly I missed her. But like reading my mind Paige’s mouth opens.

“I miss you so bad.”

My heart nearly stops. I missed her more than anything. Just her presence, her closeness, her stupid jokes, the car drives. Everything.

“Me too,” I admit. “But nothing’s changed Paige.”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, fingertips coming to play with the ends of my hair as she remains standing between my legs. I usually didn’t like anyone touching my hair after I’d done it. But something in this moment had me not caring.

“Maybe,” I start but then shake my head. Horrible idea. But Paige is eager for any solutions to our little problem. Well not so little, it had consumed me.

“No, tell me. Please Iz, c’mon,” she speaks in that soft tone that always drove me wild.

“I don’t know if it’ll work Paige.”

“Please mama, I’ll do anything. Just don’t wanna lose you. Need you in my life too bad right now.”

The two words are enough for me to fold.

“We could be friends. But that’s all it can ever be. Nothing more. Just friends,” like I said, a horrible, impossible idea. Even now my body was burning for her, her hands on my lower back leaving sparks on my skin.

Paige thinks for a while and then nods. “Then we’re friends.”

“Paige, are you sure we can be just friends?”

The blonde nods, meeting my eyes again. “I told you, I’ll be anything you need me to be.”

Fuck.

“I’mma be your friend. Till you want more. I’mma wait.”

“Paige-”

“Just say the word Iz and I’ll be more.”

She’s serious, her face hard as she looks at me.

“But for now friends, yeah?” Paige asks, thumb brushing a strand of hair that I’m not sure was even there off my cheek. Friends, what a terrible idea.

“Yeah. Friends.”

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i-am-a-bad-influence-writes · 4 months ago

Text

P*rn ☆ Chapter 7, All of you

Masterlist Word count: 2.4k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Can you tell I'm procrastinating my school work? I should've been working on a presentation but this fic is consuming my every thought.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. (Yes, for real this time)

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

I do really want to get to know you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you. All of you.

The sickeningly sweet tone of your voice keeps ringing in Sylus’ ears as if it were tinnitus. It's been no more than a few hours since everything went down and he tried to go to sleep, but here he lays. Sleepless, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, his reflection staring back at him. A few weeks ago those mirrors had been a great idea, now he regrets them more than anything.

They make him angry, to look down at himself and see someone so weak, so desperate for a person to like him that he loses all sense of confidence when one bad thing happens. He tries to remind himself that people are flawed, that you couldn't possibly hate him for having a panic attack, but her voice rings in the back of his head.

"Who could possibly want you? Look at you! Crying over nothing!"

Deep down he knows she was wrong, yet those words, all of her venomous words, are engraved in his memories.

And then there's you who looked at him so kindly and determined when you helped him. Would you still be awake at this hour? He checks his phone on the nightstand for the time. 22:38. It's not that late. Perhaps he should send you a text.

He unlocks his phone starts typing "you up," but quickly deletes it when he sounds it out in his head. Seems too forward for a moment like this. Maybe a heartfelt apology for sending you away so suddenly? Or a time and place to meet for that date you want so bad? To be fair, he wants it too. With a sigh, he settles for a short message.

Sylus: "I'm sorry."

He throws his phone to the side but it dings before it can even hit the mattress beside him.

You: "Don't be. I get it."

How could you get it? He just had a childish meltdown over a memory of a person he left years ago. It's not behavior for a grown man.

Sylus: "Still."

You: "Can't sleep?"

Sylus: "No."

You: "I'll put the kettle on."

Sylus frowns to himself. Why you'd still want to take care of him is a mystery he can't solve. Not without talking to you at least. He peels himself off the covers and gets dressed in his sweatpants and a nice sweater to go see you next door when his phone pings again.

You: "I'm considering this our first date btw."

A smile pulls on his lips. He barely knows you but this just feels right. This feels like you... like home...

He shuffles into his slippers and head out into the hallway. Your door is slightly opened and he figures you did that so he can let himself in. When he steps into your apartment it is so different from a few days ago. All the furniture is in the same place, but the room is bathed in the light of a few decorative lamps that emit warm yellow light and some candles burning on your coffee table. The whole place feels like a warm hug.

You stand in the kitchen, pouring tea for the both of you and it just feels right to Sylus. Like some kind of domestic bliss. Something that he's never had before. You turn to walk the mugs to the coffee table and spot him standing at the end of the small little hallway leading into your living room. You smile.

'Hey.'

'Hey,' he responds, trying to hide his smile. You walk to the coffee table and he follows. The both of you take a seat on the couch on separate ends.

'Do you like honey in your tea?'

'Do I look like a person who likes honey in their tea?' You shrug and he feels himself smile again. 'Sure.' You walk back to the kitchen and come back with two teaspoons and a honey jar.

'How much?'

'Just a little bit.' You nod and he watches as you, very seriously, put some honey in his tea with one teaspoon and one massive glob with the other teaspoon in your own. 'Isn't that a bit excessive?'

'I don't tell you what to like,' you tease as you put the lid back on the jar. With your mug in your hand, you sit cross-legged on the couch, half turned towards him. 'Do you want to talk about what happened?'

'Not right now.'

'That's okay. You don't have to tell me.'

'I want to. Just not right now.' You nod. 'Honestly, I just want to listen to you talk.' That catches you a big off guard.

'You want to-'

'Yes. Your voice soothes me for some reason,' he admits. Shit, that might even be the first time he acknowledges it, let alone admit it, to himself.

'Sure. What do you want to hear me talk about?'

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘

He was hanging on your every word, humming in agreement every once in a while to assure you he was still listening. It's probably been hours and you're pretty much talked out. Sleep is all that's on your mind right now and it seems Sylus feels the same way. His eyes are barely staying open, his cup of tea long abandoned on the coffee table still half full. You had an inkling he wasn't a tea person but he did try.

'Sylus?' He hums in response, a low, rumbling hum. 'I think we should go to bed.' Another hum. You're not sure he's awake anymore, so you gently push his shoulder. He looks over at you, almost annoyed you disturbed him. 'Do you want to stay? Cuddle maybe?'

'Cuddle? Only if you're sure about it.'

'I am.'

And suddenly the giant man is in your bed. You had suspected him to want to be the big spoon or something, but somehow he ended up with his head on your chest, curled against you like a big cat. His arms around your waist, pulling you as close as humanly possible. His legs entangled with yours. One of your hands is on his shoulder, the other in his hair gently scratching his scalp. If you wouldn't know any better, you'd say he almost sounds like he's purring.

It's the best weighted blanket you could ever ask for.

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Soft light passes through your carelessly closed curtains, illuminating the scene on your bed as you blink your eyes open. Halfway through the night you must've pushed the covers off because Sylus is basically a human sized space heater. You must have twisted and turned quite a bit together because Sylus is on the other side of the bed that he started in, but still half on top of you. Normally that wouldn't bother you because it actually feels quite nice, but the tea you had last night now wants out.

As carefully as you can, you slide out from underneath the peacefully sleeping Sylus in hopes he won't wake up. You'll probably scoot back in when you're done in the bathroom. It's not like you have anything better to do today.

In the bathroom you decide to do a quick hygiene check. After all, this is not a man you want to scare off with bad morning breath or BO. You decide to take a quick shower and brush your teeth. Then you dress back into your pajama shirt. You figure you'll grab some panties in the bedroom before getting back into bed. Then, one last check the mirror. Sure, your hair is a mess and you've got flushed cheeks because you have the hottest man you've ever seen in your bed, but you look alright.

By the time you get back, Sylus is awake and lying on his back. One arm strewn over his face and the other... No...

Sylus is jerking off in your bed.

He must have not heard the shower turn off and as much as you should be offended, angry, annoyed at the very least... It's kind of hot. His ragged breathing, his strong arm flexing with every stroke. Nothing you haven't seen from him before but seeing it in the flesh is something special.

Quiet as you can, you walk over to the bed. When you climb onto the mattress Sylus feels the dip and pulls his arm off his face, looking at you with wide eyes. But the look in your eyes says enough. He grins and continues, watching you closely as you move over to straddle his thighs over the covers.

'Were you thinking about me,' you ask, your voice still low and gravely from sleep.

'Yes,' he breathes out, sounding not nearly as tough as he does in his videos but about ten times hotter. 'About your mouth, your tits, your hips, everything between your thighs.'

He seems to have found his confidence again and, honestly, it's a relief he's finally relaxed and at ease. Especially considering he's not at home. You shuffle a bit closer to where his hand is stroking his dick under the covers, your pussy getting wetter by the second. 'Do you want to kiss me?'

'Please,' he groans and reaches out for you. He grabs the back of your neck, pulls you forward, and kisses you with so much despair that you fear he might die without your lips on his. You're so close that you feel his fist bump against your stomach with every stroke.

You can tell he's getting close. His grip on your neck gets tighter and his kisses keep getting interrupted by his own moaning, groaning, and whining. Suddenly his hand stills and his head shoots back, his lips leaving yours and giving you great excess to his neck. Wet kisses litter over the underside of his jaw with the rare love bite here and there until his breathing steadies.

He looks back at you then, with so much kindness and admiration. His hand slides into your hair, gently running his nails over your scalp and pulling you close once more to press a sweet kiss on your lips. Then, things change very rapidly.

'Time for breakfast,' he says as he looks you in the eye with a mischievous grin. He flips you onto the bed with ease and makes himself at home between your thighs. 'No panties,' he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. His arms wrap around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulder and your core closer to his face. Then he looks up at you expectantly, waiting for your consent.

Some voice inside your head is screaming in your ear to speak up and say yes, give him your enthusiastic consent. Another voice in your head is whispering in your other ear that it would be so much fun to hear him beg. Make him wait until he's completely pussy drunk without even touching it. The thought makes your head spin and you keep your mouth shut, your bottom lip securely between your teeth and a twinkle in your eyes.

'Come on sweetie, use your words,' he says, his voice wafering ever so slightly. He presses a kiss to your thigh, so close yet so far from where you want him. You keep quiet. 'You want me to beg for it?' There's a glint in his eye, something almost boyish, mischievous, teasing.

And then he bites your thigh. A gasp slips from your mouth, releasing your bottom lip from your teeth but you remain quiet. One of his arms lets go of your thigh. He moves it so that his hand is on your stomach, traveling up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers gracing your tits but not quite going far enough to hold them or play with them.

Sylus moves his head to your other thigh and begins his assault there. Biting, kissing, sucking your skin. A string of moans leaves your lips at the pleasure builds up between your legs. 'Pretty please,' he breathes out, barely holding it together. His eyes are back on yours, boring a hole in your soul before biting your thigh again.

'Yes,' you moan, 'please Sylus.' He dives in right away, licking a stripe up your slit then latching his lips on like he's kissing yours. The hand under your shirt moves to grab your tit, gently massaging it. You can tell he's done this before. The way he switches between licking and sucking on your clit makes you dizzy. You get close to a high faster than ever before.

Without really noticing it, your hand is in his hair, your hips grinding against his face, chasing a high that is coming towards you like a freight train, and all you can see is his eyes. His eyes watching you so attentively, noticing every buck of your hips, every moan, every whimper, every time your back arches. And he plays into it, following your lead.

Then you notice it. He's bucking into your mattress while watching you come apart on his lips. This turns him on as much as it does for you. Shit, how did he get this good?

Suddenly, the freight train crashes. Your hands pull at his hair, your back arches, your voice a blubbering mess of praise and appreciation. You feel your whole body shake and you see Sylus smirking at you while pressing kisses to your lower abdomen. He didn't even have to use his fingers, and you came undone for him like that.

Insane.

Sylus pushes himself up on the mattress and climbs over your body, leaning on his forearms so he is close enough to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It's fucking hot and he seems so relaxed.

'Nap, then breakfast?' You look down at his naked form, admiring him one last time before disappearing under the covers again, and you notice that he came again. This time on top of your sheets. You feel strangely proud.

'Sure, but you're doing my laundry after.' He looks down at himself and the mess on the covers. With a sly look he comes down to you again, pressing another sweet kiss on your lips.

'I'll get you new ones.'

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imloyaltoscoups · 1 year ago

Text

it's fiction | jeon wonwoo

Wonwoo leans on the door frame, his arms crossed, looking at you focused on your laptop. Your fingers keep typing nonstop, the clatter of keys the only sound in the room.

"You've been engrossed with your laptop for days," he says, breaking the silence.

You stop typing and close your laptop immediately, turning your head to look at him. "It's just some research stuff," you reply, trying to sound casual. But the truth is, he has no idea you're writing a fanfic about him—not just any fic, but a R18+ one.

You stand up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a hug. "Soo how's the progress on the album with Hans?" you ask, hoping to divert his attention.

He rests his chin on top of your head, his arms encircling you in return. "It's going well," he says softly. "Just preparing for the MV maybe this coming week or so... But I'm more curious about what you've been working on."

You feel your cheeks heat up, your heart racing as you hold him tighter, "I'm just searching for a new game that's all," you reply, trying to sound convincing.

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Your chrome isn't even open."

You look up at him, caught off guard. He points to his glasses. "My vision is clear," he says, smiling.

You let out a nervous laugh, your mind racing to come up with another excuse. But the way he’s looking at you, with that teasing glint in his eyes, makes it hard to think straight. So instead, you tighten your grip around his waist, hiding your face in his chest.

"Okay four eyes, you caught me," you mumble into his shirt. "But it's really nothing."

He chuckles, his hand coming up to gently stroke your hair. "Alright, I'll let it slide for now. But next time, maybe you can show me what you've been working on?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you can only hope he never finds out the real reason behind your late-night typing sessions.

He then gently removes your arms from around his waist and he directly head straight to your workstation. Panic sets in as you rush to stop him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind.

"Yaaaa, wait!" you plead, trying to hold him back. "You said you will let it slideee."

He laughs, a deep, genuine sound, and continues to move forward, dragging you along with him. "What are you hiding, hmm?" he teases, enjoying your struggle.

"Seriously, it's nothing!" you insist, your grip tightens.

He pauses, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder, still smiling. "You know, you're making me even more curious."

You groan, knowing he won’t give up easily. "It's just… embarrassing, okay?"

He turns around fully, facing you, his expression softening a bit. "I won't judge, you know that," he says gently.

You hesitate, then sigh, loosening your hold on him. "Fine. Again don't judge me and don't even laugh." as you point your finger on him.

He grins, reaching out to lift your chin. "I promise."

With a reluctant nod, you step aside, watching nervously as he approaches the table.

Wonwoo sits on your chair and opens the laptop, starting to read. You panic and cover his eyes as he begins to speak, "Really, babe?"

"Stop, stop," you nervously plead.

He removes your hands from his glasses and looks up at you. "I thought you didn't like being rough, but here? You even describe my dick well, props to that," he says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You cover your face with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment spreading across your cheeks. He grabs your waist and settles you on his lap, and you nudge your face into his neck, mumbling, "It's just fiction."

He chuckles, "But the details… wait, am I a mafia boss here?"

You blush even more deeply. "And how do you know this kind of position? We haven't even tried this one yet," he continues.

"Stop reading." You plead, but he ignores you and keeps reading.

"Have you been watching porn while I'm away?" he asks.

"It's just for reference, Won," you reply weakly. "You know I have more experience than you, right?" he counters.

"Well, then it wouldn't be fiction, it would be like your diary or something," you retort, looking at him. "And my readers like this kind of stuff."

He laughs and scrolls down, continuing to read. "And you even make me a cold, possessive jerk? Really, babe?"

You bury your face in his shoulder, mortified yet unable to suppress a giggle at his reaction.

"Well, this is already a fanfic since you made me a mafia boss," Wonwoo remarks, pausing in his reading. "You make Mingyu my rival... wait, will he... uh, fuck around with the female lead too?"

He's now fully invested, and you try to cover the screen, but he removes your hand, his expression turning serious. "Behave," he instructs firmly.

"Why is the female named as Y/N?" he asks, his tone softer now as he realizes you're writing a reader-insert fanfic.

You hesitate to answer, but he catches on, teasing you, "So you're imagining yourself being fucked by a mafia boss, huh?"

"It's not like that," you deny it quickly,

He chuckles, shaking his head. "You know, you're missing some details in this sex part," he points out, gesturing to the screen.

"What's wrong with that?" you ask, feeling defensive.

"Since you haven't tried this position, you need to experience it firsthand to be able to describe it accurately," he explains matter-of-factly.

He then stops reading, setting your laptop aside. You think it's over, so you stand up. He does too, but to your surprise, he grabs your hand and drags you to a nearby couch in the room.

As Wonwoo positions you on the couch, he bends you at the waist, your upper body resting on the cushions while the arm of the couch supports your hips. Before you can fully comprehend what's happening, he swiftly removes your shorts along with your underwear, making you gasp in surprise and arousal.

He leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You know, I read something in your story about fingering and sucking first," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Before... before fucking her hard."

You shiver at his words, feeling a rush of heat pooling between your legs. "Y-yes," you manage to reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without further preamble, he descends upon you, his lips trailing hot kisses along the curve of your neck. But his touch is not gentle; it's rough, demanding, leaving marks of his passion in its wake. He bites down on your skin, his teeth grazing against your flesh, leaving you gasping for more.

As his lips find their way to your shoulder, With a wicked grin, he murmurs against your skin, "Let's see if I got your story right." he grips your thighs tightly, parting them with a force that sends a jolt of pleasure through you. His touch is possessive, his fingers digging into your skin as he explores every inch of your body with a hunger that leaves you trembling.

Your breath catches in your throat as his words send a shiver of anticipation down your spine. You nod, unable to form coherent words, your heart pounding in your chest.

And then, without warning, he lowers his head between your thighs, his mouth claiming you with a primal urgency. He doesn't hold back: his tongue is rough and insistent, lapping at your core with a fierce intensity that threatens to drive you over the edge.

But it's not just his tongue that drives you wild; it's his teeth, sinking into your flesh with a delicious sting that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. He bites and sucks with abandon, his mouth a whirlwind of sensation that leaves you teetering on the brink of ecstasy.

You then gasp as Wonwoo inserts his fingers roughly, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. His roughness only intensifies as he continues to suck and lick you, driving you to the edge with each relentless stroke.

When you finally reach your climax, the pleasure is so intense that you can't help but squirt, your juices spilling over his face in a hot, sticky mess. He doesn't flinch; instead, he stands up, slapping your ass roughly as you continue to leak your essence, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure coursing through you.

With a primal growl, he positions himself between your legs, straddling you as he forcefully slaps his cock into you like an animal. In this position, there's no room for romance—no eye contact, no kissing, no caressing. It's pure, raw, animalistic fucking, and you revel in it.

As he takes you from behind, you can feel his gaze burning into you, consuming you with lust as he uses you for his pleasure. You lowkey love it—the feeling of being dominated, of being nothing more than an object for his satisfaction. It awakens something primal within you, igniting your submissive side like never before.

As Wonwoo continues to pound into you with primal intensity, his breath ragged and his movements rough, he begins to utter possessive lines, echoing the ones you wrote in your fanfic.

"You like it when I degrade you, don't you?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You love being used like this, don't you, you filthy little slut?"

His words send a shiver of excitement down your spine. You find yourself nodding eagerly, unable to form coherent words as pleasure clouds your mind.

He continues, his voice dripping with possessiveness. "You're mine, Y/N," he declares, his grip tightening on your hips as he drives himself deeper into you. "No one else can have you like this. You belong to me, body and soul. Say it."

You moan in response, unable to resist his command. "I'm yours," you gasp, the words coming out in a breathless whisper.

"That's right," he murmurs, he then delivers a sharp slap to your ass. "And don't you forget it. You're mine to use, to pleasure, to fuck however I want."

Wonwoo's thrusts grow deeper and rougher, each movement driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. Your bodies collide with a primal rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

He hisses in pleasure, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "You're so tight," he gasps, the words slipping out between clenched teeth. "Even after all this time, you still feel so fucking good."

With a final, powerful thrust, he releases his hot, sticky essence deep inside you, filling you completely with his fluid. The sensation sends you over the edge, your climax crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Wonwoo pulls his cock out, releasing the last of his cum onto your back. You breathe heavily, reveling in the fact that this is the first time he's been so rough with you during sex. He then gently picks you up and settles you both onto the couch.

As he plays with your hair, he smirks and asks, "So, who’s the better fuck—the mafia version of me or the real thing?"

You squint your eyes at his absurd question, trying to suppress a laugh. "It's just fiction, Babe, Mere fiction," you reply, shaking your head.

He chuckles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I know, I know," he says, his voice gentle. "I was just curious... At least you got to experience the sex position you wrote about," he added as he resumes on toying with your hair. "And if you need to try more for the sake of realism in your stories, I'd be open to it. No need for extra research when you have me."

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning against him. "Whatever." But he's not done yet, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Are there other stories you've written that I haven't read? Are they rated 18? And do you write about other members too?" he fires off questions.

Before he can ask more, you hush his mouth with a kiss, which he eagerly reciprocates, pulling you closer. You sense there might be another round, but this time, he'll be gentle like he used to be.

....... ≿━━━━━༺MASTERLIST༻━━━━━≾ .......

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whump-imagines · 1 year ago

Text

Lightning and Panic

I swear I will write for other characters too... I'm just currently deep in Buck and Eddie brain rot.

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1300 ish

You pinched your arm, flinching at the sensation. There was no way this was real. This was your worst nightmare. You just needed to try harder and you were sure you would wake up.

Pinching the same spot once more, you realized that you were likely going to have a bruise soon.

Yet again, you were sitting in this awful waiting room. It felt like you had just been here waiting for news was after Eddie was shot.

Now, it was Buck.

It had been two days of waiting. Two days of worrying. Two days of desperately trying to convince yourself that he was going to be okay.

You knew they had a dangerous job. You thought you'd been prepared for that. You expected burns or maybe smoke inhalation. Not a sniper and a freak lightning strike.

Truthfully, you'd only prepared for minor injuries. Not near death experiences.

Suddenly, Eddie was kneeling in front of you. Why did he look so concerned? Something went wrong. Buck was gone.

He was talking. Why couldn't you hear him? Why are your ears ringing?

Eddie squeezed your hands almost too tight. He was trying to ground you. He took a slow exaggerated deep breath then finally, his words broke through your haze. “Breathe.”

It was then you finally realized you were barely wheezing air in and out and much too quickly. Your heart was racing. You gasped. “I-I–” more gasping. “C-c-can’t.”

Eddie moved your hands to his chest. “Yes, you can. Just follow me.” His fingers dug into the pulse point at your wrist as he took another slow beep breath and counted the pattern for you.

Tears rolled down your face as you desperately tried to calm down. You yanked your hands away from Eddie to pull at the collar of your shirt. It suddenly felt like it was strangling you.

Eddie turned toward Bobby and said something to him about a doctor. Had he whispered? Maybe. Your ears were also ringing more intensely again.

Now, you were grabbing at your chest. “H–hurts,” you panted out the word.

“I know, sweetheart,” Eddie soothed. “Just try to breathe.” He pulled your hands back down to your lap and once again pressed his fingers into your pulse point. You could see the worry in his eyes despite trying to stay calm for you.

You desperately tried to draw in more air but failed. Before long, black spots started to appear in front of your eyes. Then there was a doctor. He had to be there about Buck. You tried to back away, you couldn't handle any more bad news. “No.”

Eddie moved to the chair beside you and pulled you against his side. “It's okay, sweetheart. He's here to help you.” He pulled up your sleeve then nodded to the doctor.

There was something cold on your shoulder then a pinch and a burning sensation. You couldn't move away from it as Eddie had you held firmly in place.

Almost immediately, you felt calmer. You relaxed fully into Eddie and finally drew in a deep breath. A nurse you hadn't noticed placed an oxygen mask over your face.

You felt Eddie’s sigh of relief. “You're okay.” You weren't sure if he was talking to you or himself. “The doctor is going to run a few tests just to make sure that was a panic attack and nothing else, okay?”

You tried to snuggle further into him not wanting to leave his side. “‘m tired.”

“I know. Just relax. It's okay if you fall asleep,” Eddie soothed. He stood and lifted you into his arms bridal style. You dozed off with your head against his shoulder before he made it to the exam room.

When you opened your eyes, you were alone in a hospital room. As the grogginess started to lift, confusion set in. Why were you here? Why were you alone? There were no monitors or IV lines and aside for being tired, you felt okay.

Then the memory hit. Buck. You jerked upright. “Oh, no.” You would have stood to go find out how he was but you were suddenly dizzy. So instead, you pressed the nurse call button on the bed rail.

The dizziness mostly cleared and you were considering going to look for Eddie and check on Buck when the door swung open and a doctor entered. You vaguely remembered him from the waiting room earlier. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

“How is Buck?” you asked, ignoring his question.

Before he could answer, Eddie came in and was by your side a moment later. “How are you?”

You huffed. “How’s Buck?”

Eddie smiled. “He's breathing on his own. He's getting better.”

Tears slid down your face as the relief washed over you. You finally felt like you could breathe again.

“Now, back to you,” Eddie redirected. “Are you feeling better?”

Shrugging one shoulder, you thought about it. “Honestly, I'm still tired. I was dizzy but that's passed. How long was I out?”

“Almost five hours,” said Eddie.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Holy crap. Wait, I thought I heard something about tests.”

“You did.” Eddie looked to the doctor to let him explain.

“We ran an EKG and blood tests because you were having some chest pain during your anxiety attack,” he explained. “Everything came back normal.”

“So then am I captive here or can I go see Buck?” you asked.

“You're free to leave,” the doctor said. Then he left the two of you alone.

“I'm sorry,” he started. “I should have been paying attention. I should have noticed you hadn't really slept or eaten. Or at least that you hadn't taken your meds.”

You just shook your head. “It's not your fault. We were both focused on Buck.”

“I still should have noticed.”

“You noticed when I was having an attack and got me help. That's all that matters.”

He just nodded, not seeming convinced.

“Can we go sit with Buck?” you asked.

“Maddie and their parents are in with him right now,” Eddie started. “How about we just go look through the window so you can see he's okay and then we go home so you can get some more rest?”

“I don't want to leave him. What if something happens?” You felt yourself spiraling. “What if something happens and– and we're not here?”

Eddie took your face between his hands and forced you to look at him. “Breathe.” He demonstrated a deep, calming breath for you. “He is stable. They don't expect anything to change overnight. And even if it did, we're not that far away. Okay?”

You took a few deep breaths. “Mmkay.”

“Besides, you know Buck would want you to rest and take care of yourself rather than sit around here.”

“Ugh. Fine,” you conceded. “Can we not tell him about my panic attack earlier?”

Eddie shook his head. “We can wait until he gets home. Unless he asks directly because I won't lie to him.”

You agreed and the two of you made your way towards the ICU. It really did help you to see him doing better. Leaning your head on Eddie’s shoulder, you were content to just stand I'm that hallway until Buck woke up but Eddie wouldn't go for that.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“No,” you told him truthfully. “But we can anyway.”

A week later, Buck was finally coming home. You were practically vibrating with excitement.

Walking into the house, you tried to lead Buck towards the bedroom but he stopped you and attempted to head toward the couch. “You need to be resting,” you scolded him.

“Are you going to rest?” he asked.

“Me?” You asked, confused. “I'm fine. I didn't die a few days ago.”

Buck frowned. “The doctors ran tests to make sure you weren't having a heart attack because you nearly passed out from a panic attack.”

You scowled at Eddie. “When did you tell him?”

Eddie just shrugged. “He asked while you were loading up the car. I told you I wasn't going to lie to him.”

You sighed. “Regardless, I'm fine.”

Eddie shoved you and Buck towards the bedroom. “I think we could all use some rest. Let's all go take a nap and then we can watch a movie and eat take out in bed.”

“Sounds amazing. Except, when do we need to pick up Christopher?” you asked.

“Carla is keeping him overnight so we can get Buck settled in,” Eddie explained.

Buck nodded. “I vote pizza.”

“Deal,” you and Eddie agreed in unison.

#eddie diaz x reader #buddie x reader #evan buckley x reader #9 1 1 x reader #911 fanfic #911 reader insert

511 notes · View notes

almostwisegalaxy · 3 months ago

Text

Under a grey sky

Bonus part

Older men oc x fem!reader

Reader has a shy character in this story and is in his twenties

Music to listen to for the atmosphere: DtMF_bad Bunny

Debí tirar más fotos de cuando de tuve. Debi darte más besos y abrazos. Las veces que pude...

Translation : I should have taken more photos of when I had it. I should have given you more kisses and hugs. The times I could. (⁠ᗒ⁠ᗩ⁠ᗕ⁠)

Sensitive souls please refrain. Sensitive subject. Death, cancer. I'm not making fun of anything. I'm just writing a story. As they say on Wattpad : I am responsible for what I write, you are responsible for what you read

..................................................................................

It was an evening like any other. The sky was overcast, threatening to rain. Y/n, apprentice baker, was finishing her day. She had spent hours crafting chocolate éclairs and apple tarts, her mind lost in the dream of owning her own bakery. But that night, her thoughts wandered. Too absorbed in calculating her savings, she hadn’t noticed the man crossing at a poorly lit street corner.

The screech of brakes. A thud.

Horrified, Y/n hurriedly got out of her small car. The man on the ground was still breathing, but a thin cut marked his forehead. She immediately called for help, her voice trembling with panic.

Armand opened his eyes in the hospital, disoriented. A dull ache pulsed through his head, and bandages covered his face. Yet what caught his attention was the young woman sitting by his bedside. Y/n was curled up in a chair, nervously twisting a tissue in her hands.

“You’re awake… I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her pleading eyes fixed on him.

Armand, a 39-year-old interior architect, looked at her curiously. Despite the pain, a faint smile appeared on his lips.

“Don’t worry… It’s nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious? I ran you over…”

“And yet, you’re here watching over me,” he replied lightly, trying to reassure her.

Y/n flushed deeply, but he continued, his gaze gentle:

“Go home. I’m fine, I promise.”

She hesitated but eventually obeyed. Yet the image of his comforting smile remained etched in her mind.

A few weeks later, as Y/n was decorating pastries in the bakery where she worked, the doorbell chimed. She glanced up briefly to greet the customer, but her gaze quickly returned to the tart she was preparing.

“Hello,” said a familiar voice.

She abruptly looked up. Standing before her was Armand, well-dressed, his bright smile hiding the slight scar on his forehead. She didn’t recognize him immediately.

“Do you have croissants?” he asked with a disarming ease.

“Yes, of course. Just a moment,” she replied, turning toward the display.

As she placed the croissants in a paper bag, he observed her with a hidden tenderness. She seemed more at ease here, in a world that felt made for her.

“You have a real talent,” he said suddenly.

Y/n blinked, surprised by the remark.

“Thank you… But how can you tell?”

“It’s obvious,” he said warmly. “I can see it in your movements.”

She blushed again, uncomfortable with such a sincere compliment.

Armand became a regular customer. Every morning, he stopped by for a coffee or pastry, finding excuses to exchange a few words with Y/n. He was interested in her work, her dreams.

“So, you want to open your own bakery?” he asked one day, taking a bite of a financier she had made.

She nodded timidly.

“Yes… But it’s still a long way off. I need to save, learn, and find the right place.”

“You’ll make it,” he said with conviction.

His encouragements touched her, but she never dared to ask him personal questions. She was too shy to dig deeper. Meanwhile, Armand found himself increasingly fascinated by her. Her passion, her reserve, and even her clumsiness made him smile.

One evening, as he worked on an architectural project in his office, Armand found his thoughts drifting. He realized he looked forward to seeing her every morning. But he couldn’t ignore the age gap between them.

“She’s in her twenties,” he murmured to himself. “She has so much to live, so much to discover.”

Yet he couldn’t deny the emotions growing within him. Every smile, every exchanged word gave him a thrill he hadn’t felt in years.

One day, as he waited in line at the bakery, he placed a book on the counter. It was a French pastry manual, thick and adorned with vibrant photos.

“For you,” he said with a smile.

Y/n stared at him, puzzled.

“Why…?”

“Because I believe in your dreams,” he said simply.

She clutched the book to her chest, moved by his gesture.

“Thank you… It’s… it’s a lot.”

For the first time, she looked up at him and held his gaze a little longer. An invisible butterfly stirred in Armand’s stomach.

Their relationship evolved slowly, like dough rising under a damp cloth. Y/n found herself waiting for his visits, listening for the bell to chime. Armand, for his part, took his time, respecting her pace, admiring every facet of her personality.

One day, as they shared a brioche fresh from the oven, he softly murmured:

“Y/n… You’re like this brioche.”

She looked at him, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soft. And… you bring a warmth that isn’t always noticed at first, but it lingers long after.”

She blushed, lowering her eyes, but this time, she didn’t look away completely.

It was the beginning of a fragile yet sincere love, built on glances, gestures, and shared dreams. A love that, like a good pastry, required patience and care.

---

Weeks Passed, but Armand’s Ambition Remained Intact

Weeks went by, but Armand’s ambition remained unshaken. He was a determined man, always immersed in his work, pushing his limits day after day. His architectural projects consumed more of his life than he cared to admit, and every minute of inaction felt like wasted time. Yet deep inside, something grew stronger every time he crossed paths with Y/n: love.

But he was caught in a spiral. He saw their age difference as an undeniable obstacle he couldn’t ignore. He didn’t want Y/n to get lost in a relationship that, in his mind, had no future. She was young, full of dreams, and he… he was already in a different phase of life. He had made choices, sacrificed moments of leisure to achieve his goals.

One evening, after an especially long day, Armand went to the bakery as usual, hoping for a light conversation, a little comfort in Y/n’s small gestures. But something wasn’t right. The stress of his job, his grueling hours, the constant pressure, and lack of sleep weighed heavily on him. He entered the bakery, heading toward the counter, his tired gaze fixed on her.

“Hello,” she said softly, a shy smile on her lips as always. She didn’t know he’d had an especially difficult day.

“I need a coffee, strong,” he murmured, his tone sharper than he intended.

She looked at him for a moment, surprised by the coldness in his voice. But she didn’t respond, simply preparing his order with calm concentration. When she handed him the cup, their hands brushed briefly, and he felt a dull tension rise within him. She was so gentle, so calm. She seemed worlds away from his own turmoil.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to talk about his job, his frustrations. But instead of responding, his words came out more abruptly than he intended.

“Why do you always worry about everyone? Don’t you have anything better to do? It’s not your job to take everything on yourself.”

She flinched, her eyes widening at his harsh tone. He immediately realized his mistake, but he couldn’t seem to regain control of the situation. He had acted impulsively, without thinking. The fatigue and stress had overridden his usual gentleness.

Y/n remained silent, her gaze lowering. She didn’t know what to say, but the hurt was clear on her face. Normally so understanding, so kind, she now felt deeply wounded.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured after a long pause. “I… I just wanted to offer you a little… comfort.”

He looked at her, ashamed of his words. He shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, but his nerves were frayed. Watching her retreat in silence made his heart ache.

The next morning, Armand arrived at the bakery earlier than usual, his mind tormented by the events of the previous evening. He had spent the night reflecting on his behavior, knowing he owed her an apology. But seeing her behind the counter, arranging the morning pastries, he realized he couldn’t bear to hurt her any further.

He waited for her to look up at him. When she finally did, he approached cautiously, a bit hesitant.

“Y/n… I’m sorry about yesterday. I was… I was overwhelmed, and I shouldn’t have acted that way.”

She didn’t respond immediately, and he saw doubt flicker in her eyes. He knew his words had deeply hurt her, and the thought gnawed at him.

“It wasn’t about you,” he added, his tone calmer, almost gentle. “It’s just… it’s hard for me to balance everything I need to do.”

She looked at him for a moment, then lowered her gaze, as if his apology wasn’t enough to erase the sting of his behavior. But instead of retreating into her usual silence, she offered a small gesture of understanding.

“I understand,” she said softly, but with a gentleness that instantly eased his heart. “It’s just… sometimes, we forget to rest. And that hurts you too, doesn’t it?”

Armand stood in silence for a moment, surprised by her insight. He hadn’t thought about it that way. He had been so absorbed in his work that he hadn’t realized how much the tension was hurting him from the inside.

“Yes,” he said after a pause, his voice rougher than he intended. “Sometimes, I’m so focused on what I want to accomplish that I forget to stop, to breathe.”

She nodded slightly, a timid smile brushing her lips. She understood what it meant to be swept up in dreams and ambitions, forgetting to care for oneself.

That evening, Armand went home replaying their conversation in his mind. He knew he was still far from understanding everything that was happening between him and Y/n. But one thing was clear: he loved her, and he didn’t want her to suffer because of his own shortcomings.

He also knew he had to change. Not for her. But for himself. And perhaps, in that process, they could learn to understand and love each other in a healthier, gentler way. Because Y/n deserved to be cherished, with no room for anger or exhaustion.

And for the first time in a long while, he wondered if finding balance between his dreams and his feelings was the true key to his happiness.

---

Armand’s project had consumed every fiber of his being. For months, he had poured his heart and soul into it, investing his time, ideas, and ambitions. He had imagined, designed, and created with the hope that his work would finally be recognized. He knew the moment was approaching—the moment his project would be unveiled to the public, the moment his name would finally be associated with success. And that moment came.

But it wasn’t what he had envisioned.

The day the project was praised, with critics unanimously lauding its quality, Armand felt a strange coldness seep into him. It wasn’t pride. Nor elation. It was emptiness. A void. His superior, someone who hadn’t contributed a single idea, had taken all the glory. His name shone in the headlines, while Armand’s was nowhere to be found.

He was devastated. And yet, he felt nothing. No anger. No frustration. Only an endless fatigue, a deep exhaustion.

He wanted to scream, to overturn everything around him, but his muscles were paralyzed. He couldn’t even move. He couldn’t scream. His mind was blank, as if everything he had lived, everything he had accomplished, had been swallowed by an ocean of silence. His hands trembled slightly, but he couldn’t even lift them. It all seemed so futile, so insignificant.

And yet, he couldn’t shake the sense of loss. Of betrayal. Of frustration. He hated himself for not being able to feel the injustice more intensely, for not being able to scream, to fight. Why couldn’t he react the way he wanted? Why did he feel like an empty man, a broken man without the strength to get back up?

That evening, he returned home, devoid of any enthusiasm. He collapsed on his couch, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes. The air in the room felt heavy, almost oppressive. It was as if he were breathing in a space too small, drowning in a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn’t even organize.

It was far too late when he finally stepped outside. He didn’t even know why he left or what he was hoping for. Maybe it was the anxiety driving him out, or perhaps the need to be alone with his thoughts in the silence of the night.

The park was deserted, lit only by a few solitary streetlights. He sat on a bench under one of them and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool night breeze brush against his face. The sounds of the city felt distant, muffled by the stillness of the place. He felt so far from everything, so disconnected from reality.

That’s when he saw her. Y/n. She was walking alone in the park, probably after her workday. When she noticed him, she stopped for a moment, seemingly surprised to see him there at such a late hour. He slowly lifted his head to look at her, expressionless. He didn’t have the strength to smile. Nor the strength to pretend.

Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze uncertain but gentle. She seemed hesitant, unsure if she should disturb him. But she didn’t need words to know she should sit beside him. She said nothing, offering only her quiet presence.

The silence that settled between them wasn’t heavy but rather… soothing. She didn’t need to ask questions. Somehow, she knew he needed this moment of calm.

And that’s when Armand felt the first tears well up. He tried to hold them back, to stop them from falling, but it was no use. They began to stream down his face, slowly, gently, like a river cascading down a mountain, carrying away all the pain, all the frustration he had suppressed for so long.

The tears wouldn’t stop, one after another, breaking the silence of the night. He let himself go, giving in to the flood of emotions he had ignored for far too long. His body trembled as he leaned toward Y/n, unable to control the shaking.

Without a word, she wrapped her arms around him. He let himself lean into her, his face buried in her shoulder, the tears flowing endlessly. There was no shame in the gesture. No pride. Just the need to feel safe, to let go.

Y/n, silent, held him gently. She didn’t say anything, but she was there for him. That was all that mattered. She could feel the pain in his movements, in his cries, and she knew he wasn’t asking for anything other than understanding, support without judgment.

In her arms, Armand allowed himself to completely let go, his heart heavy but unburdened from the weight that had suffocated him for so long. He had finally stopped holding back his emotions, stopped repressing his pain. Y/n offered him the freedom to cry without judgment, without pressure.

Eventually, the tears subsided, though the emptiness lingered. Yet something had shifted. That emptiness, though still present, felt less insurmountable. He knew he wouldn’t face it alone. Y/n had accepted him without demanding answers, without imposing expectations. She had simply offered her heart, and for the first time in a long while, he felt like he belonged.

---

The silence stretched between them, but this time, it was soothing. Y/n didn’t move; she stayed there, her arms around him, like an anchor in a calm sea. She understood that sometimes, words weren’t necessary. She felt the tension in his muscles gradually ease, and she knew that, little by little, he was regaining control over his emotions.

Armand eventually pulled away slightly, his breathing still uneven. His eyes were red, but they no longer held that empty expression. In Y/n’s embrace, he had found something precious—a peace he hadn’t sought but that had found him. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at her.

“Thank you…” he murmured, his voice broken but full of gratitude.

Y/n smiled softly, her eyes gentle and reassuring. She didn’t need a response, but her gaze spoke volumes. She wasn’t judging him. She wasn’t trying to fix him. She was simply there, by his side, and that was enough.

“I’m here, Armand,” she said simply, her voice soft but filled with tenderness. Nothing more needed to be said.

A faint smile crossed Armand’s lips, but it wasn’t forced. It was genuine—a gratitude he never thought he could feel so purely.

He stood up slowly, taking a deep breath. The night was calm around them, but something within him had shifted. A weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying had lifted, and he felt lighter, even if only for the moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” he offered, his tone now calmer.

She shook her head gently, a small hint of mischief in her eyes.

“No, I’m fine. But thank you. It’s… nice to be here, with you.”

He nodded, accepting her answer, though he felt a new warmth stir within him. It wasn’t just gratitude. He felt a connection, something deep silently weaving between them, without the need for words to express it. He knew that what he had just shared with her, this moment of vulnerability, could never be forgotten.

They remained there for a little while longer, enjoying the tranquility of the night. At some point, though, the silence became lighter, almost playful.

Armand turned to Y/n, his eyes now holding a spark of admiration he had felt for her since their first meeting. He looked at her, and this time, he didn’t see her as timid, fragile, or different from him. No. He saw her simply as Y/n—the person who, with a simple gesture of understanding, had brought him a kind of calm, a kind of peace he hadn’t known for a long time.

“You know, you’re really incredible,” he said softly, his voice both sincere and filled with tenderness.

Y/n blushed slightly, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. She was used to hiding her emotions, retreating into shyness. But that night, something about him encouraged her to be more open.

“Thank you,” she replied with a small smile. “But… I think we help each other.”

He smiled at her response. He didn’t need more words. He understood. They understood each other.

The days that followed felt different. Armand woke up in the morning with a slightly lighter burden on his shoulders. He continued to work, but he found himself appreciating the small things around him—things he had neglected for far too long. He spent more time reflecting on his life choices, his priorities, and what he truly wanted to achieve. But more than that, he started considering how he let his ambitions consume him.

And Y/n. He thought of her often. He hadn’t immediately seen her as someone who could help him through his moments of weakness, but he was beginning to realize that she might be the one who had shown him the path to a balance he had never sought before but was now striving to find.

For her part, Y/n seemed calmer too. She hadn’t tried to force her way into his world or immediately uncover the reasons behind his pain. She had simply listened, offering her support without expectations. She had always been a determined, dream-filled woman, but she understood that life had its own rhythm and that sometimes, stepping back was all it took to see things differently.

It wasn’t a fiery, explosive relationship, nor an all-consuming love story. It was gentler, calmer, like a quiet river. A love that grew in small gestures, in shared silences, in quiet laughter, and late-night conversations. They were learning about each other slowly but surely.

Armand knew he still had battles to fight. He also knew his responsibilities would pull him back into the whirlwind of work. But what he knew even more was that Y/n, with her quiet light and her gentle strength, would always be there, by his side. And perhaps, this budding relationship—fragile and uncertain as it might be—would become the key to a balance he had long sought without realizing it.

---

The little bakery, bathed in soft, warm light, was soothingly quiet. The last customers had long since left, and only Y/n remained behind the counter, meticulously tidying up the utensils, her precise movements reflecting her love for her craft. Armand stood in front of her, his hands buried in his pockets, looking unusually nervous.

He had rehearsed this confession in his head dozens of times. He had written a letter, carefully folded in the inside pocket of his jacket, just in case he forgot everything he wanted to say. But now, standing there in front of her, his thoughts seemed to unravel with each heartbeat.

Y/n finally looked up at him, intrigued by his uncharacteristic silence.

“Armand? Is something wrong?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

He pulled out the letter, hesitating.

“I… I have something to tell you,” he said, his voice rough, almost inaudible.

He placed the letter on the counter, but as he was about to hand it to her, his hand accidentally knocked over a cup of coffee left nearby. The brown liquid spread across the paper in an instant, soaking the carefully written words until the ink became a blur of illegible smudges.

Y/n, initially surprised, watched the scene before bursting into laughter.

“Oh no… You really planned everything, didn’t you?” she said, her playful smile lighting up her face.

Armand, initially panicked, began to laugh nervously too.

“Yes… Well, not exactly this,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed.

Y/n’s laughter faded gently, but the smile remained. She looked at him, curious, waiting for him to continue.

He took a deep breath. So much for the letter. There was no escape now.

“Y/n… I’ll be honest—I’m terrible at expressing how I feel, especially about something this important. But I’m going to try.”

She stood still, her hands folded on the counter, her eyes fixed on him.

“For a while now, I… I’ve been struggling with how I feel about you. Not because I doubt what it is, but because I doubt… myself.”

She furrowed her brows slightly but said nothing, giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“You’re young, Y/n, full of dreams, talent, and life. You have your whole future ahead of you. And me… I’m…”

He paused, searching for the right word, but none came.

“I’m already in a world where I’m fighting just to stay standing. Where I work too much, where I’m always tired. And sometimes, I wonder if I’m just… an obstacle for you.”

Y/n opened her mouth, ready to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her gently.

“Wait, let me finish, please.”

She nodded, though her gaze softened.

“For the longest time, I told myself you’d be better off with someone else. Someone who could give you everything you deserve. Someone who could make you happy in ways I can’t. But every time I tried to let go of that idea… I couldn’t. Because the truth is, I want to be that person for you. Even if I’m imperfect. Even if I’m not the obvious choice.”

He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers, his dark eyes filled with a vulnerability he had never shown anyone before.

“I love you, Y/n. Not in some grand, dramatic way, but in a simple, honest way. I love you because you’re you—with your shy smiles, your passion for what you do, your way of always seeing the best in others… And I know I’m clumsy, that maybe I don’t deserve this, but I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Y/n, her cheeks slightly flushed, seemed to be searching for the right words, her fingers playing with the edge of her apron. Then, slowly, she smiled.

“You know, Armand,” she murmured, “you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“What I love about you isn’t some perfection you think you have to reach. What I love is you. Your clumsiness, your seriousness, the way you look at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I’ve never wanted someone perfect. I just want you.”

This time, it was his turn to be speechless. She leaned slightly over the counter, reducing the distance between them.

“I love you too, Armand,” she added, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “Even if you’re incredibly clumsy sometimes.”

He burst out laughing, relieved, and this time, the laughter was pure, sincere, full of a joy he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So… you’ll have me, despite everything?” he asked, a hesitant smile on his lips.

She nodded, her smile widening.

“Yes. But only if you promise never to write letters next to a cup of coffee again.”

They laughed together once more, and in that shared moment of joy, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them. It wasn’t a perfect confession, nor a scene straight out of a romantic movie. It was clumsy, sincere, full of laughter and shyness. But it was them. Just them.

---

The months had flown by, and their relationship had blossomed in a quiet, unexpected way. Armand and Y/n had found their rhythm, balancing Armand’s busy workdays with the long hours Y/n spent in her bakery perfecting her recipes. Their love was sincere, built on small daily gestures and shared silences that spoke volumes.

They had celebrated Y/n’s victory in the pastry competition together. That day, she had climbed the stage, trembling but radiant, to receive her trophy. Armand had watched her with unwavering pride, as if she had just reached for the stars. They spent the evening laughing and celebrating in a way that felt simple and true to them.

But a few weeks after that moment of glory, their happiness was brutally interrupted.

Y/n had begun feeling pain in her lower abdomen and a fatigue she could no longer ignore. At first, she thought it was due to stress or overwork and delayed seeking medical advice. But one day, Armand insisted she see a doctor.

The diagnosis hit like a thunderbolt: terminal cancer, already too advanced to treat.

When Y/n walked out of the consultation room, her legs trembled. Armand, who had been waiting in the hallway, stood up immediately upon seeing her expression.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Then, with trembling hands, she reached out and grabbed his.

“I… I only have a few months left,” she finally murmured, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Armand felt his heart shatter, as though the ground had been pulled out from under him. But he didn’t let the panic take over. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if that simple gesture could shield her from everything.

The shock of the diagnosis changed them. Y/n, initially terrified, found the strength to smile again thanks to Armand. He, though devastated inside, became her pillar of support. Together, they made a decision: they would not let this illness steal the time they had left.

They began crossing dreams off Y/n’s list. A weekend in a small cabin by the lake, where they fished together and stargazed. A day spent at a bustling market, tasting dishes they’d never dared to try before. And, of course, hours spent in the bakery’s kitchen, experimenting with new recipes Y/n had dreamed up.

One evening, as they kneaded brioche dough together, Y/n suddenly stopped, her hands covered in flour.

“You know, Armand…” she began hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“I think… even if I’d known all of this beforehand… I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He looked at her, surprised.

“Nothing?”

She nodded, a sad but sincere smile on her lips.

“Because meeting you, loving you… it was worth it.”

Armand felt his throat tighten. He stepped closer and gently wiped a smear of flour from her forehead.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmured.

A few months after the diagnosis, Y/n was weaker, but she refused to let it defeat her. It was the day of the event they had planned to share her final pastry creations with her loved ones and loyal customers.

The little bakery was filled with laughter and joy. Armand watched her from a distance, marveling at the way she lit up the room despite her visible exhaustion. At one point, she caught his gaze and walked over to him.

“You know, I saved the best for you,” she said, handing him a small box adorned with a ribbon.

He opened it to find a delicate dessert, carefully crafted.

“I named it ‘Renaissance,’ because… even when something ends, there’s always a part of life that remains.”

He looked at her, moved, and whispered:

“Y/n, you are my renaissance.”

That night, under a starry sky, they sat on the bench in the park where it had all begun. Y/n, nestled against him, felt a tear roll down her cheek.

“Armand… you’ve given me so much more than I could have imagined,” she murmured.

He shook his head.

“You’re the one who’s taught me everything. To love, to live…”

She looked up at him, her tired eyes filled with love.

“Then promise me something,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“When I’m gone, live for both of us. Live so fully that people will say Y/n taught you how to smile.”

Armand felt the tears well up but nodded, unable to speak. He etched that moment into his heart, as an eternal promise.

Y/n couldn’t change her fate, but she had turned their love into a light that would never fade.

---

The months had passed, and Y/n’s condition had worsened. Yet, she tried to maintain her smile, like a shield against the pain—for Armand, and for herself.

That morning, Armand arrived at Y/n’s place with a box filled with croissants he had carefully chosen from a bakery she particularly loved. But when he knocked on the door and she didn’t answer, a wave of worry washed over him.

“Y/n? It’s me, Armand.”

The silence was oppressive. After a few moments of waiting, he pulled out the spare key she had entrusted to him. When he opened the door, the familiar scent of lavender and flour greeted him, but the atmosphere felt strangely still. He hurried upstairs, his heart pounding.

“Y/n?”

In the bedroom, Y/n was still lying in bed. She slowly opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, but something in her gaze had changed. She seemed… distant. Armand approached her, and that’s when he noticed the strands of hair scattered across the pillow. Her once vibrant hair was almost all gone.

She reached a hand to her head, then lowered her eyes to the strands. A faint “Ah…” escaped her lips, barely audible, as if she no longer had the strength to react.

Armand felt a dull pain crush his heart. That indifference, that emptiness in her voice—it was worse than any tears she could have shed.

“Y/n…” he whispered, kneeling beside her.

But she didn’t respond. Slowly, mechanically, she got up to get ready.

He stayed there, motionless, his eyes fixed on the empty pillow, his trembling fingers clutching the wrinkled sheet. She was moving forward, but he felt her slipping away, like a wisp of wind he couldn’t hold onto.

A few months later, despite Y/n’s obvious weakness, Armand organized a small evening just for the two of them. He wanted to give her a moment of lightness, a little escape.

They laughed. They talked about memories, unfinished dreams, and even joked about how Armand could never bake a cake without burning it.

Y/n, tired but glowing, rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know… I think I’ve never been happier than I’ve been with you,” she murmured.

Armand gently stroked what was left of her hair and kissed her forehead.

“You are my life, Y/n.”

She looked up at him, a peaceful smile on her lips.

“Then keep living, even after me.”

That was their last conversation.

That night, Y/n fell asleep in his arms. Armand, however, couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He preferred to watch her, to engrave every detail into his memory: the softness of her features, the rhythm of her breath in the silence, the fragile warmth of her hand in his.

In the early morning, sunlight timidly peeked through the curtains. Armand opened his eyes and immediately felt something was wrong. Y/n was still—too still.

“Y/n?” he called softly, his voice filled with a hope he knew was futile.

He touched her cheek—it was cold.

“No… no,” he murmured, tears welling in his eyes.

He held her in his arms, gently rocking her, as if saying a final goodbye. Her face was peaceful, as though she had simply fallen asleep after a beautiful evening. But for Armand, the world collapsed in that moment.

The days that followed were dark, but Armand found strength in the memories they had shared. Y/n had taught him how to love, how to live fully, and he knew she wouldn’t have wanted him to drown in despair.

He kept the notebook where she had written her recipes and thoughts, and he worked to keep the promise he had made to her: to live for the both of them.

A year later, Armand opened a small bakery, which he named Y/n’s Light. Each creation carried a piece of her, a tribute to her talent and her brilliance.

And every morning, when he saw the smiles of customers enjoying what she had inspired, he felt her presence beside him. Y/n may not have had all the time she deserved, but her love—her light—was eternal.

---

Days passed, yet Armand continued to visit the cemetery regularly. Under the weeping willow, Y/n rested in the peaceful spot he had chosen carefully for her. He often spoke to the grave as if she were still there, sharing his achievements, doubts, and even the mundane stories of his day.

He decorated the gravestone with care. At Christmas, he brought small garlands and winter flowers. At Easter, he left colorful eggs and sweets he had prepared while thinking of her. The engraved photo on the stone smiled back at him, soft and almost alive.

But one day, something changed.

As part of his new project—renovating an orphanage—Armand immersed himself in his work. He wanted to create a warm, welcoming space where children could feel all the love they deserved.

One afternoon, while discussing the plans with a nun, he passed by the nursery. His gaze was drawn to a group of infants sleeping peacefully, their soft breaths filling the room with a calming rhythm.

That’s when he noticed a little girl, apart from the others. She cooed softly, observing the world with curious but timid eyes. Her cries were gentle, almost hesitant, as if unsure whether she should ask for attention.

Armand froze, his heart clenching. She reminded him of Y/n. Not physically, but in the fragile sweetness she radiated.

In the days that followed, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The idea of adopting her became an undeniable calling, almost as if Y/n had sent him a sign.

A few weeks later, after completing all the necessary procedures, he finally welcomed the little girl into his home. He named her Y/n, in honor of the woman who had changed his life.

Four months passed. Little Y/n clung to Armand as if afraid he might disappear. Her smile, her clumsy laughter, her first attempts to stand on her tiny legs—everything about her rekindled a light he thought he had lost.

One morning, Armand made a decision. He wanted to introduce little Y/n to her “mother.”

He prepared a simple picnic, packing bottles for the baby and snacks for himself.

When he arrived at the grave, he paused for a moment, his eyes on Y/n’s engraved photo.

“Hello, Y/n,” he murmured.

Little Y/n, nestled against him, babbled softly, her big curious eyes following the willow leaves dancing in the wind. Armand knelt before the grave, spread out the blanket he had brought, and gently placed the baby on it.

“I brought someone to meet you today,” he said, a fragile smile on his lips.

He sat facing the gravestone and placed little Y/n on his lap.

“This is Y/n. She has your name. I couldn’t think of a more perfect name for her…”

He ran a tender hand through the baby’s short, soft hair as she played with a fallen willow leaf.

“She’s incredible, you know. Every day, she reminds me that life can still be beautiful, even after everything.”

He spoke for hours, sharing stories, thoughts, and promises he wanted to keep.

“I’m doing my best to be a good father. It’s not always easy… sometimes I wonder if I’m enough. But she trusts me, Y/n, just like you trusted me.”

The little girl let out a joyful cry as she spotted a butterfly fluttering nearby. Armand laughed—a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in a long time.

“You see? Even a butterfly fascinates her. She has your way of finding beauty everywhere.”

He leaned forward slightly, bringing little Y/n closer to the gravestone as if to introduce her properly to her mother.

“ Say hi to Mama” he whispered tenderly.

The baby didn’t understand what was happening, but when she saw the photo on the grave, she cheerfully held out a flower she had picked earlier and babbled joyfully. The gesture brought a smile to Armand’s face.

“See, Y/n? This little one already loves you.”

As the sun began to set, Armand rose slowly, holding little Y/n close to him.

"In another life, I hope it's you and me... I beg God that it's still you and me. I hope we will be happy together, Maybe we can love each other and... grow old together?" The little y/n in his arms suddenly lets out a chirp, as if to make her presence felt. Armand laughs despite his tears that threaten to flow. "Yes, and that the three of us can form a beautiful and happy family" he said, playing with his daughter's little hand. "Until then, I'll take care of her for both of us. Promise, my love."

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking at the gravestone one last time. “Thank you for everything you’ve given me.”

He placed one final flower on the grave before walking away.

On the way home, little Y/n fell asleep in his arms. Armand, however, walked with a lighter step. That day, under the weeping willow, he felt something shift. It wasn’t a goodbye, but a new chapter—a bridge between the love he had lost and the love he had found.

And he knew he would return to that willow, again and again, to share the joys and sorrows of the life he was building for the two of them.

..................................................................................

Next part

Tags list : @elizalabs3 @slvt4her

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jupiter-letters · 1 year ago

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Dating Barry Allen would include:

Fem!Reader or GN!Reader TW: Mild Mental Health topics(Anxiety) No panic attacks depicted.

A/N: I've never really been a flash girl but tomorrowverse barry had me in my feelings. I did have a dream he wanted to date me really bad but I was like nah man I'm a superman girlie till I die. I tried my best with this one I hope it's alright!

Barry Allen, Mr.Loverboy himself. The man that you are. He's trying his best at all times. Despite being the fastest man alive he can't be everywhere at once. It'd be nice to be on a date with you and also stop criminals.

World's best gopher, you need something? He's on it! You forgot to get milk? Check the fridge. Your heater broke? Here's a new one! Sometimes he'll just drop off flowers or candies while you're at work. He'll leave them on your desk or in your locker with a little love note.

He loves to hype you up as much as possible, but he'll get really shy when you compliment him back.

Barry will bring home new recipes from all over the world to cook with you. It's one of his favorite things to do together, standing next to each other while preparing a meal. It's so simple yet so domestic. It's the little things that really get him emotional.

Sometimes he'll prank you, he'll tap you on the shoulder and bolt out of the room before you turn to look. He'll even move things around while you're cooking or working at your desk. You'll confront him and he'll just smile like this 😁

He'll use his speed to give you kisses, if he sees you while he's out on patrol. You'll be minding your own business and feel lips on yours. He might even leave a little flower in your hand.

Moving in together! He daydreams about that so often, you have to snap him out of it. He dreams of putting a table from IKEA together for you. For a big moment like this he doesn't put everything together super fast, he wants this to last. Seeing your home slowly come together brings him such joy and the best part is when it's all done. You both get to cuddle on YOUR couch, watching YOUR TV.

Dating him you guys become the same person, nothing is really "mine" or "yours" it's "ours" or "we". You guys are on the same page alot so when you're on missions on or not he'll say it. "Batman WE think we should go ahead and stop the meeting at the warehouse. "WE don't think it's a good idea." "OUR plan is much more productive." The rest of league is sick of you guys😭

There are some days his anxiety gets the best of him and he's glad you're there to calm the storm. He worries and gets into his head alot, Barry will want to call you and share these thoughts. It's helpful to him to get a trusted second opinion from the most important person in his life.

During the winter he'll put your hand in his coat pocket while walking down the street. Once you find your way into a nice warm cafe, he'll take your hands and caress them to warm them up some more. He'll just protect you from the elements in general, on a hot summer day he'll give you his baseball cap or just fan you off real fast. In the fall he likes to see you in your scarf under the red and orange leaves of central city park.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

#~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #dcau x reader #reader insert #barry allen #the flash #dc comics headcanons #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #dc animated imagine #dcamu x reader #barry allen x reader

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scumashling · 4 months ago

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Caretaker and Whumpee's First Meal Together

Past non con drugging, former Whumpee Caretaker

Caretaker has gone to painstaking lengths to make sure every aspect of the dinner is perfect, from the meat to the crispy potatoes to the dinner cocktail. It is, after all, Whumpee's first real dinner since they got away from Whumper, and after everything they'd been put through, and how skittish Whumpee still is, Caretaker wants more then anything for it to be a good one. The dinner is going well. Whumpee talks with their hands a lot, bright eyed and friendly, if a little nervous, a tight smile across their face. All seems well, except as Caretaker digs in they notice Whumpee isn't. They seem distracted, less interested in eating the meal and more into cutting it up into bite sized pieces and shuffling them around the plate. Whumpee is also spending an unusual amount of time observing the glass that holds their drink, holding the beverage up to the light, only taking scant, small sips, as if trying to taste for something.

"Is there something wrong with the food?" Caretaker asks, crestfallen at the idea that the first meal they prepared had failed to impress. Whumpee's eyes dart up, the forced grin they'd been wearing all night stretching further.

"Oh no! You did such a good job, Caretaker! I'm very grateful." They reassure caretaker. Their voice does not sound genuine, words coming out in rapid fire as if they'd rehearsed them in their head. God damnit.

"If you don't like it, I can make-" Caretaker sighed. Whumpee's left hand slams downs on the table before Caretaker can finish, the right still clutching the glass in their hand tight. The way they slightly tremble shakes the table and sloshes their drink, voice quickening to a high pitch. Caretaker detects a strained note of panic, despite Whumpee's efforts to mask it.

"No, no no no, please don't bother yourself with that, you must've worked so hard and I'm so thankful for everything you've done-its just-I just-" Whumpee's eyes zip back to the glass in their right hand, studying the liquid inside.

It has been a long time since Caretaker had been with Whumper. Sometimes, the memories seem so far away that Caretaker wondered if the whole ordeal had happened to someone else, or if Caretaker had simply made the whole thing up. It didn't help that Caretaker had spent most of that horrible time drugged out of their mind, courtesy of Whumper, unable to move, barely conscious yet all to aware of what was happening at the same time as Whumper hurt them.

It suddenly dawns on Caretaker that Whumpee fascination with the glass might not be out of politeness in the face of an inedible meal. They were looking for signs, strange taste, a strange fizz, if the liquid was cloudy, searching for bits of pills or oil floating on the surface. Caretaker remembers doing the same.

Caretaker knows what they have to do. They stand up, striding to the other side of the table.

"Can I see your drink?"

Caretaker doesn't wait for Whumpee's permission before taking the glass from their hand, downing about half of the glass of the dark red liquid, and promptly plucking a bite sized piece of meat off their plate and eating it up. When Caretaker sat back down, they could see Whumpee's eyes had gone wide, their shoulders bunched in anticipation as if they expected Caretaker to explode. They both waited in silence for a minute, until Caretaker offered them a small smile.

"You should try some. It's really good. And you're so skinny."

When Caretaker failed to explode or collapse on the floor and Whumpee was sure it was safe, they exhaled, their shoulders relaxing, and they tentatively took piece of meat from the plate and began to chew. Their eyes immediately lit up in delight and they had another, and another, and another, washing each bite down with the drink until the whole meal was gone.

#whump #recovery whump #caretaker #whump snippet #whump prompt #past whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump blog #might repurpose this for my redo of healer rewrite #caretaking #noncon drugging #past noncon drugging

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 4 months ago

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The Decaying Lands: chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

note: inspired by the current Walking Dead re-watch I'm on. This was supposed to be a modern fic, but I decided to challenge myself in the new year so I made it a slowburn canon fic. I hope you all will love it as much as I loved writing this! I have decided to split this fic in two chapters.

full fic warnings: 18+, angst/fluff/suggestive. A zombie fic comes with zombie things, but nothing massively out of character from TLK. Mention of: blood, several character deaths, child/family death mentioned, animal death (mainly in hunting context, not detailed), loss of home by fire.

pairing: Sihtric x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

summary: You met the love of your life after you had to flee from your village. But falling in love during a sickness outbreak came with its own struggles..

word count: 11k

Masterlist

Reblogs & comments are immensely appreciated.

In the beginning the sickness was just that; a sickness. A terrible illness that was spread in ways yet unknown. Perhaps it was spread by air, or by touch, or by animals, or maybe even by food. All that was known was that it spread vast and widely, starting with a mere cold which would progress into a horrible infection that made it hard to breathe. Those infected would die slowly and agonizing, suffocating to death while often surrounded by their loved ones, who were tortured equally by having to witness the ill slipping away from them slowly, with no way of stopping it or saving them.

The bodies of those deceased polluted the rivers they were thrown in and, where buried, unfertilized the earth they laid in. Fresh water and successful harvests became scarce as the seasons passed, which was first blamed on witchcraft, but soon the reality had to be faced. Families were dismantled as people died. And soon no one could be trusted anymore, when villages were raided by those still alive, in search of weapons and food, and also hoping to somehow find a cure. Each man fought for their own survival, at least, many did for some time. But soon people began to understand that there were ways to stay clear of the sickness, so people learned to adjust and life had been quite peaceful for a moment, apart from the occasional raids. And in truth, nothing could have prepared anyone for the real horror which eventually followed.

The horror when those who were deceased suddenly began to dig their way out of their graves and crawl out of the rivers they were thrown in, only to return to the homes they used to live in with their families…

You would never forget the sound of people screaming, and how the warmth of the fire had felt as it destroyed your village, only a few weeks ago. The revenants, those who had returned from the dead and were hungry for warm flesh, had overrun your small village which had been kept safe and peaceful for longer than you ever could've hoped for. But when a herd arrived early in the morning, and everyone had been foolish to let their guard down, for it had been so long since merely a single revenant had come along, they breached through the rather feeble wooden fence that had secured the village in a matter of seconds.

One of the villagers had lit a torch in a state of panic, thinking and hoping that by setting the revenants on fire, the village and its people could be saved. But it didn't work, instead it only made everything worse. Burning revenants stumbled into houses and barns, setting those on fire and everyone in it who was not yet rudely awoken by the havoc outside. You managed to flee your home before it caught fire, as it spread from roof to roof faster than the men could fetch water. You ran and left everything behind you still possessed after the first outbreak of the sickness, leaving everything you had held onto after the unspeakable things you had done. And you were one of several who managed to flee the village, unharmed physically, but gravely injured mentally.

Your mind had been scarred months ago already, when your parents and younger brother were amongst those who had risen from their graves just outside the village, and you had to fight off your living dead loved ones in order to stay alive yourself. You weren't sure if you would ever be able to recover from that. But you had to continue fighting to keep breathing back then, and that is what you had to do when your village burned down as well that one morning.

And it's what you had to do when you lost the group you had escaped your burning village with. Because after seeking safety in the forest, all you found was yourself alone.

You were hungry and tired, beyond exhausted and feeling as if you were one of those revenants yourself. For days you had strolled through the seemingly endless forest, occasionally fighting off a revenant while seeking shelter and food. Shelter was fairly easy, you discovered, as you had slept in several abandoned small sheds that were scattered throughout the woods, previously used to hold livestock safely gathered during travels of traders. But food was hard to come by. Most of the edible plants were already plucked or had simply died, and you had never been taught to properly kill an animal or how to make a fire in the wild.

You managed to fight off the revenants with a large tree branch that had been broken off, sharp enough to stab through their rotting flesh and the crumbling base of their skulls. When you first encountered the revenants, your dearly departed family members, you had no idea how they were to be killed. So you had simply stabbed them repeatedly with your seax until they stopped moving. As if facing undead relatives wasn't horrifying enough, it was trial and error at the time too figuring out what stopped them. Not much later you and several fellow villagers learned that decapitating them stopped them from walking, but it was only when their brains were impaled they would truly return to the dead for once and for all.

It was never easy to kill for you, yet you had done what you had to in order to survive and make it this far. But you were tired and hungry and weak, so when you found yourself suddenly surrounded by a group of revenants, you knew that trying to fight them off would be a futile attempt. They came at you slowly, but they came from every direction and you felt too dizzy and disoriented to make a move. You fell to your knees when they closed in on you, the stench of their rotting flesh and oozing wounds penetrated your nose and it made you gag, but you had nothing left in your stomach to throw up. You closed your eyes and prayed. You prayed like your parents had taught you, and you prayed for a quick and merciful death. You were a Saxon and supposedly a Christian, but you weren't sure what or who you prayed to anymore. You prayed to whoever would listen, but which God could be so cruel to allow these horrors to happen?

You braced yourself when the rotten stench got closer and the snarling became louder, but their sickening noises were suddenly drowned out by the sound of hooves approaching rapidly. You felt the earth beneath your hands vibrate to the galloping hooves, and when you looked up you saw a beautiful gray and white speckled horse close in as it neighed loudly, carrying a man on its back. The man drew an axe from his leather belt and swung the weapon as the horse crisscrossed in the circle of revenants. You watched how the man slayed the undead swiftly one by one, leaving behind a blood splattered mess as he chopped off the hands and jaws of those who went for his arms and legs. And he didn't stop until he made sure they were all sent back to their graves. And only then the man dismounted his beautiful horse, now painted red just like the man's dark armour, and he cautiously inspected you from a safe distance.

You looked at him and took in his appearance in return. His face was stern and slightly scarred, his facial hair dark and well kept, while his dark hair was braided and shaved on the sides so his neck tattoo was visible. He wore leather armour and carried multiple weapons, and overall he seemed to be in good health.

'Are you bit or scratched?' the man suddenly asked.

'What?' you stared at him, confused and still not sure if any of this was real or a hallucination caused by your lack of energy.

'Are you bit?' he asked again, 'or scratched? Do you have any wounds?'

'I'm,' you paused and looked down at your arms and legs, 'I am not wounded. Why are you asking me such foolish questions?'

'Not foolish, lady,' the man muttered and stepped closer, 'I need to know if you have been infected.'

'Infected? Wait, is that how it spreads?' you asked, shocked, 'through wounds?'

'It spreads through open wounds and blood contact. If you have open wounds that touch the after-walker's blood you get infected,' he explained, 'and if they scratch you, their blood mixes with yours too. And when they bite you, well,' he chuckled, 'that explains itself.'

'After-walkers?' you frowned, 'you mean those revenants?'

The man furrowed his brow as he looked at you.

'Revenants?'

'Yes, those who return from the dead.'

'We call those after-walkers.'

'We?'

'The people I'm with.'

You looked around the forest, seeing nothing but trees and only one man in front of you, the one who had saved you.

'I'm alone out here,' he said, 'my people are somewhere safe. My name is Sihtric, who are you?'

He stepped closer again once he deemed you not fatally injured, but you crawled backwards away from him with what little energy you had left.

'I saw they grabbed your arms and legs!' you half yelled, 'how do I know you are not infected?'

'Chainmail,' Sihtric said, with a smug smile on his face, 'I wear chainmail under my armour. My arms and torso are protected, as are my legs by the mail chausses. It's impossible for the after-walkers to scratch or bite through it. Now, tell me, are you alone out here?'

You hesitated to answer, suddenly feeling threatened when you realised an armed man was towering over you and you had nowhere to go. And clearly Sihtric saw the panic arise in your eyes when you tried to look for a possible escape route.

'I mean no harm,' he said, holding his hands up as a gesture of peace, 'you have my word. It's just been a very long time since I've come across someone still alive.'

You gave Sihtric the benefit of the doubt, knowing that even if he did mean any harm, you had no way out anyway, so it was best to just answer his questions. You then ran him through your story as fast as you could, about how your village had gone up in flames and about the group you lost. You told him you had survived for days on your own and that you were ready to give up, but that he had appeared just in time to save your life.

'What about you?' you asked.

Sihtric looked at you while he was clearly debating something with himself, but he then finally spoke.

'There's a fort nearby,' Sihtric said, his hand resting on his axe after he had attached it back to his leather belt, 'the place is secure and safe. I have a group of people back there. We have been staying there since almost the start of all this. We've lost good people and had our troubles too, don't think we had it easy. But we have been fairly safe. Most of us are warriors, but we have a few women too and a couple of villagers who mostly keep watch and have been taught how to fight and defend against the after-walkers. Every other day myself and others go out hunting for food, we usually don't go alone, but since it had been a while we encountered those,' he cocked his head towards the bodies, 'I've been feeling secure to hunt on my own, but I won't do that again anymore now for a while.'

You looked at Sihtric with only one question on your mind, knowing you had no other options anymore.

'Does your fort have space for one more?' you asked carefully, 'I've… got nowhere to go. I don't even know where I am,' you said and fought your tears, 'I've lost everyone and everything.'

Sihtric took another good look at you, taking in your weakened state and calculating if you were a potential threat, all while he contemplated on what to do with you.

'Listen, it's been a while since we took people in,' he then said, 'you are clearly weak and you won't survive another day out here,' he sighed and walked over to his horse, 'I can't promise anything, but if we leave now we'll reach Bebbanburg before sunset.'

Bebbanburg.

You woke up in bed, with a nauseating headache taunting you while your eyes needed a moment to adjust to the dimly lit room you found yourself in. You looked around without moving, and saw the room had a high ceiling with dark wooden beams, and the walls were made of dark wood too. Multiple torches were mounted on the walls, all lit with fire, and a big chandelier with burning candles hung from the ceiling in the middle. It was warm and, despite how big the room seemed, rather cosy.

'You're safe,' a calm voice sounded, but still startled you, 'hey, no need to be frightened.'

The voice came closer along with slow and heavy footsteps, followed by the appearance of a handsome man with a kind smile on his scarred face.

'My name is Sigtryggr,' he said, 'you are in Bebbanburg. Sihtric brought you in, but you fainted as soon as you set foot inside these walls. You hit your head pretty hard there.'

'That explains the headache,' you groaned as you sat up in bed.

'I'm afraid so,' Sigtryggr chuckled and took a seat next to your bed, 'you shouldn't move too quickly yet. How are you feeling?'

'I'm not sure.'

'Do you remember anything from before you fainted? The arguing?'

'Arguing?'

Sigtryggr looked as if he had run his mouth, then took a deep breath before he spoke again.

'Sihtric and Uhtred,' he began, 'they argued. Uhtred is kind of the leader here. Bebbanburg belongs to him, he used to be a Lord. Myself and the others are just lucky to live and survive here. Uhtred wasn't sure if you should be given a place here, since he was afraid you might have been infected.'

'I was not wounded.'

'We know now,' Sigtryggr said, 'we had the women rinse you of the blood, because you had a lot splattered onto you. They cleaned you up while you were here, in bed, and they looked for wounds too. We had to make sure you were no threat, but because of your weak state we didn't have much time to discuss our options. We had to take you in or leave you outside the walls. Sihtric fought for your place here and convinced Uhtred to let you in, but shortly after that you lost consciousness and we had to put you in one of our empty chambers. Not to imprison you, but to make sure Sihtric is right about you.'

'I understand,' you said softly, 'I'm sorry if I caused any trouble. I will not overstay my welcome-'

'No,' he hushed you politely and took your hand, 'you are more than welcome to stay, don't misunderstand Uhtred's authority for hatred of sorts. He just looks out for us. It has been a long time since we met someone new who wasn't infected, so we were all a little hesitant, but everything is okay now.'

'And Sihtric?' you asked, wondering why he wasn't by your side after he had vouched for you, 'is he okay?'

'He will be. He retreated to his chamber shortly after he had carried you to this bed, he said he needed some rest.'

Sigtryggr got up from the wooden stool and went over to a table where he poured you some water.

'Dinner is being prepared,' he said, 'if you feel well enough, feel free to explore the place. There are some clean clothes on the table here for you that should fit. I'll find you when the food is ready and then I'll introduce you to everyone.'

You roamed through the fortress while the smell of soup and roasted meat lingered in the hallways. You made your way out onto the stronghold's wall, near one of the watchtowers, overlooking the entire fort and its surroundings. You heard the sea behind you while you stared at the darkened lands ahead of you.

The fort was surrounded with big wooden beams, all cut sharp to impale the undead if they came too close. Each watchtower and wall had sentries on duty, who were armed and alert, which gave you a safe and secure feeling, and dared you to explore a little more. You passed a few people on your way down from the wall, all who gave you a welcoming smile and nod, and you just hoped this place wasn't too good to be true.

Before you went down the last stairs you spotted Sihtric, leaning on the wooden railing as he overlooked the quiet courtyard. A thick fur cloak was draped over his shoulders, while his hair was unbraided and messy. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, and you made your way over.

'I never got to thank you,' you said softly as you leaned on the railing next to him, 'for everything. For saving me and bringing me here. I was told you convinced Uhtred to let me stay, but I can't remember any of that myself.'

Sihtric only hummed shortly in response, his eyes still fixated on the dark courtyard, while his jaw was clenched and his hand wrapped tightly around a jug of ale.

'So… thank you,' you said again, trying to fill the awkward silence, 'you really saved my life without even knowing me.'

You waited for a response, but Sihtric gave you nothing. And just when you wanted to ask if something was wrong, Sigtryggr came up behind you.

'There you are,' Sigtryggr smiled at you, 'dinner is ready. Come on, everyone is excited to meet you.'

You somewhat reluctantly left your saviour to follow the kind man. And when you looked back over your shoulder as you descended the stairs, Sihtric had already vanished into the darkness.

The group welcomed you during a delicious and well needed dinner. You sat at a large oak table as you ate, and you soaked up all the stories you were told in a short time.

Uhtred was half Saxon and half Dane, and he had lost his wife many years ago, along with his son. Uhtred told you that he had fought for years to conquer Bebbanburg alongside Finan, Sihtric and Osferth. They had won the final battle just before the sickness broke out.

'First we thought it was just a sickness like we had seen years ago,' Uhtred said, 'when corpses polluted the rivers and it seemed to spread by air. But we soon noticed this was different and we then believed these beings to be Draugr, dead Vikings who came back to life for revenge. But we also understood quickly that we were wrong about that, and so we tried to act accordingly and keep ourselves safe. Unfortunately not everyone made it while we secured the fort on the outside to keep the after-walkers from entering.'

'We have lost some good people,' Sigtryggr added.

Sigtryggr was a Dane and seemed to take a liking to you. He told you how he was married to Uhtred's daughter, Stiorra, but had lost her to the sickness. And since she had a Viking funeral, her body was burned, so she could never return from her grave. Sigtryggr saw it as a bittersweet blessing.

'And at least she never had to see the horrors we face now,' he said with a faint smile, 'I have mourned her. But then we have all mourned.'

You all murmured in agreement, and then a lady named Aelswith broke the peaceful silence by saying you should all pray, to which many rolled their eyes and sighed, apart from her husband, Alfred. You knew Alfred had been King once, but what is a King when there is no land to rule? The hierarchy had died out when the dead came back to live, and now Alfred and Aelswith were just regular people who had to survive like everyone else. Although, it was clear to see that Aelswith still felt superior to everyone else, while Alfred remained quiet as he struggled with clear health issues.

You then got to know Finan and Osferth, an Irishman and a monk, one a loud mouth and the other rather shy, but both friendly and welcoming. Finan had fought alongside Uhtred all these years and had lost his wife before the sickness even broke out, like Uhtred.

'Osferth is Alfred's bastard child,' Finan whispered while Aelswith rambled something about God again.

You stared at the dark haired warrior with your big eyes, trying to fight the grin that tugged at your lips, but he had seen your amusement already and he gave you a cheeky wink. You knew that must have been a source of entertainment at times.

Beside you and Aelswith, the group consisted of two other women; Hild and Eadith. They were the two who had cleaned you up and made the food, nursing you back to health quicker than you could've hoped for, and you took an instant liking to them. Hild was a survivor in many ways and had been close to Uhtred and his men for a long time. Eadith had also survived several hardships before being taken in by the group, and she told you that most of the men did the hunting while the women nursed them back to health when needed, and that they also took care of chores that needed to be done.

Lastly you were introduced to Father Beocca and Father Pyrlig, two priests, one of them heavily religious and widowed a while ago, and the latter was a hardened warrior. Both of them welcomed you kindly and were happy to be in the presence of a Saxon and, seemingly, Christian lady. You noticed you were all different, but the one thing you all had in common was that you had lost loved ones in one way or another and have gone through terrible things in order to stay alive.

'What about Sihtric?' you asked as you noticed he was missing at the table, 'what's his story?'

'Sihtric is one of my most loyal men,' Uhtred said, 'that's all you need to know for now. The rest will follow in time, I'm sure.'

You weren't sure what that meant, but you also weren't going to pry. And you then finally opened up a little bit about yourself, telling the group where you came from and what you had done in order to survive. You also told them you had been married before, but that your husband had died in battle years ago, something you hadn't been very saddened about as you weren't happily married back then, so you had never even deemed your marriage as something important in your life. But luckily it wasn't all doom and gloom, and the night still had room for laughter too.

And then, after some more chatter and enjoying some more ale, you went to bed feeling rather satisfied for the first time in a while. But after hours of tossing and turning you found yourself still awake, and you decided to leave your chamber for some fresh air. You wrapped a fur around your shoulders, while wearing the clean nightgown you were given earlier, and you welcomed the cool night's air as you wandered across the walls again.

After you cooled off outside you decided to head back in again, and when you strolled past the kitchen you caught a glimpse of Sihtric as the door was ajar. You took a few steps back to peek through the door, and you saw Sihtric was on his own, eating quietly while staring into the burning hearth. An uneasy feeling crept up on you, and your heart felt heavy.

Because it seemed as if Sihtric did not want to be near you, despite saving you and bringing you back to Bebbanburg by his own choice, and even carrying you to your chamber after you had fainted.

You adjusted to your new home quicker than expected, and you helped alongside the women as the days passed by preparing food, washing and fixing up clothes, and tending to those who had fallen ill with a harmless cold or had a minor injury. Whenever you had a few moments to spare, Hild taught you how to use weapons and how to defend yourself, against the undead and the living, while Eadith taught you about plants and flowers, which ones were safe to eat and which ones you had to stay far away from. You quickly gained knowledge and skill during your first days in Bebbanburg, and you hoped that if you would ever end up lost in the woods again, your chances of survival would be much greater.

You also found that everyone was kind, the group you shared dinner with daily in particular, but the other people who resided in Bebbanburg were friendly too even if they kept more to themselves.

But Sihtric continued to keep his distance, for reasons unbeknownst to you, which you tried to shake it off. And that wouldn't be so hard if you didn't catch him gazing at you ever so often. You wanted to talk to him, just to be near him because something about him attracted you, but you felt it was best to give him his space. If he was interested in getting to know you, he surely would take it upon himself to start a conversation. And after a few more days he began to eat dinner with the group again, often sitting across from you at the large table and staring at you as discreetly as possible.

You got along with everyone and took a liking to Sigtryggr, who tended to be flirty with you but had a way of keeping it comfortable and not overly obvious. The only person who was overly obvious was Aelswith. You could tell her kindness wasn't real, and it would be a matter of time before she'd show her true colours, you were certain of that.

'How many of you escaped the village?' Uhtred asked after a few evenings.

'I'm not sure,' you said, 'a small group. Maybe ten?'

'It's been less than a week, do you think they are still alive?'

Uhtred's question caused the chatter to die down at the table, and everyone looked at you. You said you weren't sure. You did think they were still out in the woods, but as everyone had gotten a little too comfortable by not encountering the living dead for a while, you feared they might have gotten killed already. But you also felt there was a chance they were surviving in the one of the sheds you had come across yourself.

'But I am not sure,' you added, 'maybe they died, maybe they were found. They could be anywhere.'

'But they could be close too,' Uhtred said.

'They could be. Why?'

'I've been thinking,' Uhtred spoke up, addressing the whole table, 'we haven't met survivors in a while, and if those people are still out there we could perhaps find them and take them in. The more people we have, the better we can defend ourselves and this fort.'

As much as you loved seeing some familiar faces of your former home, you couldn't help but worry that a search would be a waste of time and energy.

'I'm not sure if it's worth looking for them,' you said hesitantly, 'it could lead to nothing and it's dangerous out there.'

'My men know how to defend themselves,' Uhtred said.

'You want us to go look for strangers?' Finan asked, clearly unsure about the plan.

'This is a bad idea,' Sihtric finally spoke up, 'this is a search that could get us killed. And for what?'

'What do you mean, for what?' Uhtred asked, 'it's so we can become a stronger group.'

'We don't know those people,' Sihtric argued, 'and she doesn't even know if they are still alive,' he pointed at you, 'you can't ask this from us.'

'You are the one who brought in a complete stranger, Sihtric,' Uhtred scoffed, 'and now you are against it?'

'I am against your decisions that make me go back out there and look for people who are probably dead already.'

You felt a pang at Sihtric's words, but you knew he was right.

'They could be alive too,' Uhtred shrugged.

'I'm sorry,' Finan added, 'but Sihtric is right. We don't know if it's worth it.'

'If it was any of us,' Uhtred stood up and spoke to everyone, 'we'd be thankful that people went out looking for us. This is no debate. Finan, Sihtric, Sigtryggr, you three will start the search tomorrow.'

'I will go with them,' you jumped up.

'I don't think so,' Sihtric snarled.

'You should stay here,' Sigtryggr said calmly, 'you should stay safe.'

'I insist!' you said, 'one way or another, I will go out there. So you can take me with you, or I'll go on my own. I can't let you guys look for my people while I stay here and wait. Hild has been teaching me how to fight and defend. I won't be a liability.'

The three men looked at Uhtred, who threw his hands up, signalling he wasn't going to argue against you joining them.

'Then I will join too,' Osferth said.

The monk attempted to get up, but Finan was quick to pull him down in his seat again.

'You won't,' the Irishman said, to which Osferth silenced.

'Then that's how it is,' Uhtred said, rather proudly, 'you four will look if you can find any survivors. In any case of danger, you turn back. I'm not asking you to risk your lives, okay?'

Sihtric scoffed and stormed off, muttering something inaudible, and you felt your heart sink once again because of him.

You left on horseback at dawn to start the search the next day, alongside the three men. You all wore leather armour, and the men were protected with chainmail underneath, but it was too heavy for you to wear so you'd have to be a little more careful. You did carry a sword and a seax, while Sigtryggr and Finan each carried a sword and a shield, and Sihtric was the owner of an axe, a sword, and a seax.

Sihtric remained distant and rode ahead. But Finan and Sigtryggr enjoyed getting to know you better while you scouted the lands, and you began to think fondly of them as if they were brothers. You searched for hours, occasionally taking a break to rest and eat, but sadly enough you returned to the fort with no news before evening fell.

You hadn't found real traces and only encountered a handful of undead, which Sihtric was fast to slay with his axe before you and the other men could catch up. Uhtred gave you the order to continue the search the next day, and you would.

The next morning it went the same as the day before, you stuck with Finan and Sigtryggr, while Sihtric rode ahead and remained quiet. The day seemed to turn into another useless and even uneventful search, as once again no traces were found that showed a sign of life. You circled back to the spot where the search had started off, deep in the woods, and you all dismounted the horses to sit and rest back against a couple of trees.

'I hate to say it,' Finan said after a while, 'but I don't think they are alive anymore.'

'I know,' you said softly, 'none of us who lived back in the village were really prepared to survive out here. I barely made it myself, so it's not a shock that the others probably struggled as much as I did. I was just lucky,' you looked up at Sihtric, who sat across from you under a tree, 'I was found in time. I can only hope the others have been as lucky as I was.'

'I'm afraid not,' Sigtryggr said compassionately as he sat next to you, 'there's really not many living people around here. We've been here for a while, we know the lands and roads, and we haven't come across anyone for a long time. Until Sihtric found you.'

'I go into these woods every other day,' Sihtric said, 'and I never met anyone who was not an after-walker, except for when I found you. And before I found you I was out here hunting for a while already that day, and I didn't come across anyone else or find any traces of them back then either. I'm sorry, but I told you all this was a waste of time.'

Sihtric got up and mounted his horse, and the rest of you followed without another word. Deep inside everyone knew the chances of finding any survivors who fled your village were slim, but no one other than Sihtric had said it out loud before the search even started. And now, after you all agreed the search would be over, you could finally accept it and move on. You had tried and gone back looking for them, and that was all you could do.

But despite the fact you accepted their probable fate, you still felt a little defeated. And you noticed Finan and Sigtryggr felt the same, as you were all riding the horses while being absent minded.

And the lack of alertness became a problem when you were surprised by after-walkers out of nowhere. And not just a handful this time, no, it was a whole herd. You quickly lost Finan and Sigtryggr as they got off their horses and fought off those who came too close, while your horse panicked and pranced, causing you to fall off and for the horse to run off as fast as possible. You didn't know that the same had happened to Sihtric, who found you while you fought off the undead with your seax, until he grabbed your arm and pulled you with him.

'There's too many!' Sihtric said as he killed off several after-walkers to move away further from the herd, 'and my horse ran off,' he said out of breath after he killed the last undead that came too close, 'where is your horse? We have to get out of here.'

'I fell off,' you stammered, 'I lost my horse too. I also lost Finan and Sigtryggr. I saw they dismounted and fought on foot, but I lost them when I fought back myself. And then you grabbed me.'

Sihtric stared at you in disbelief, and he then groaned before he pulled you with him again, further away from the undead crowd.

'We have to get away from the after-walkers,' he urged, 'can you run?'

'I think so, yes,' you said.

'Good, because we'll have to make a run for it,' Sihtric said, 'we'll have to find one of the empty sheds. That's our only way to make it out alive here. We're too deep in the forest to walk back, and there's too many to fight off right now.'

You looked at Sihtric, and you wanted to speak but no words came out, and he then grabbed your arms.

'Do you understand me?' Sihtric asked and shook you lightly.

'Y-yes,' you breathed, suddenly overwhelmed with fear.

Sihtric gave you a curt nod and took your hand, and somehow you managed to run with him, past the herd and without gaining too much of their attention. And those who did go after you were beheaded by Sihtric and his axe. Every time you tried to help fight one off, Sihtric grabbed your arm and shoved you behind him. He knew you were not wearing any chainmail, and he wasn't going to risk you getting bitten or scratched.

You ran until your lungs burned and you almost threw up, but you found one of the empty sheds in time and you fell down to your knees as soon as Sihtric had locked the door behind him. The shed had two broken windows, which allowed some daylight in but also could cause trouble if the after-walkers heard you. So all you could do was pray that they wouldn't find you, and you'd have to keep quiet.

You both caught your breath once you realised you made it safely inside, you sitting back against the wall while Sihtric leaned back against the door. And it took a moment before either of you could speak again.

'Are you hurt?' Sihtric asked, as if he snapped back to reality, 'let me see you.'

He came over and almost frantically searched your body for wounds, which surprised and confused you.

'I'm fine,' you said, 'just a little sore from the fall. But the after-walkers didn't get close enough to get me. And you? Are you hurt?'

'No,' Sihtric said curtly, then walked back to the door.

You buried your face in your hands for a moment, and you bit back your tears. You weren't in pain, but you were startled. You realised it had been a close call, and things could've ended very differently if Sihtric hadn't found you amidst the herd.

'Thank you for saving me… again,' you whispered.

'Let's not make a habit out of that, shall we?' Sihtric said softly as he peeked out through a gap in the wooden door.

'Why do you hate me?' your words came out before you even realised this was the worst moment to discuss that matter.

Sihtric looked back at you over his shoulder for a second, but he didn't respond, and he then returned his gaze to the gap in the door.

'There's too many after-walkers out there,' Sihtric said after a moment, 'we'll have to stay put until the herd passes. We could be here for a while,' he sighed and took off his cloak, which he threw on the floor next to you and sat down on it, 'so you better get comfortable, lady.'

You shuffled closer to Sihtric to share the warmth of his cloak underneath you, and you sat in silence for a long moment.

'We're going to die here, aren't we?' you whispered.

'Well,' Sihtric said with a soft sigh, 'I wasn't planning on. And if you are planning on dying here, then I will ask you kindly to leave me out of your plan.'

You both chuckled softly and then sat in silence again while you listened to the passing herd outside, as they moaned and snarled their way slowly past the shed and further through the woods.

'I don't hate you,' Sihtric said softly after a while, 'I'm sorry if I gave you the impression that I did.'

'It's like you were avoiding and ignoring me the first few days,' you said, 'you didn't even eat dinner with us that first evening.'

'I wasn't hungry.'

'I saw you eat on your own later that night.'

Sihtric shrugged lightly at that.

'You and Sigtryggr?' he suddenly asked.

'What?'

'Do you like him? I've seen you two get close.'

'And I've been well aware that you've been watching me. Yes, I do like him, but not in the way you think. He's been kind to me after I arrived at Bebbanburg and really tries to get to know me. Something you didn't do,' you mumbled.

'And yet I still know all about you,' Sihtric said.

'Oh, really?'

'Men talk too,' he smiled faintly as he looked at the floor, 'Finan told me all about you.'

'And yet no one told me anything about you,' you scoffed, 'why?'

'Because they know I don't share my story with just anyone,' he paused and then shifted to sit more comfortably, 'but if we're going to die here, I might as well tell you my story.'

'You don't have to-'

'I do,' Sihtric cut you off, 'I do have to tell you, so you'll understand why I kept my distance from you. When all of this started, this sickness or whatever it is, I managed to keep my family safe for a while. But my wife got sick eventually, and my children did too. I don't know why I was spared, but I was. My wife and children passed away. And… as with every infected person, they returned from the grave one day. My wife wasn't a Dane, so her body wasn't cremated, nor were my children. They all came back and I,' he stopped talking.

'You had to kill them,' you whispered, feeling terrible for him.

Sihtric nodded and rubbed his hands over his face before he continued.

'I had to kill them. I stabbed them, but as we all learned one way or another, that clearly didn't work. So I… I had to behead them… all of them. They were all I had,' he said softly, 'I was abandoned by my father when I was young and my mother died giving birth to me. I fled Dunholm and served Uhtred, until all of this started to happen. But I had no family when I grew up. And the family I made was taken away from me in the most brutal way.'

'Sihtric, I'm so sorry,' you said and took his hand.

'I have mourned them,' Sihtric said and gave your hand a light squeeze in return, 'and I have healed from that, as far as one can. And I know you more or less understand what I've been through. I heard about your parents and your little brother. And I'm sorry too that you lost them, and I'm sorry for what happened to your village. When I found you, I felt some kind of hope for the first time in a while. Because you proved there are still survivors out there, and not just the after-walkers. But finding you also scared me.'

'Scared you? Why?'

'I got scared because you also made my heart skip a few beats, something that hasn't happened to me in years, if I'm honest. And I am afraid to let people in. I'm afraid to let you in, because I am afraid to again lose all that I care for, or to be abandoned by those I care for. But the truth is that I do want to get to know you.'

'I want to get to know you too,' was all you could respond with, overwhelmed with emotions.

'You will,' Sihtric smiled, 'when we get out of here at least.'

'We will get out of here,' you encouraged both Sihtric and yourself, 'we can stay here safely all night if we have to.'

And so the night began to fall outside, and the temperature dropped along with it. The shed cooled off and it didn't take long before you were both tired and cold. Sihtric picked his cloak up from the floor and draped it over your shoulders. He then pulled you in his arms and held you tightly as you fell asleep, while he stayed up to make sure no after-walker would try to get into the shed.

You and Sihtric returned safely to the fort the next day, late in the morning. The herd had passed and you had not been discovered, but neither of you let your guard down when you walked back by foot. You didn't see Finan or Sigtryggr on your way back, which meant they probably made it back safely before you did. You did find the half eaten and torn apart body of your horse, which caused you to shed a tear, and Sihtric remained hopeful that his horse had made it out alive.

'She knows the way,' he said as you continued the long walk, 'I know that if she wasn't attacked, she could be back home.'

'I hope she is,' you sniffled.

Sihtric took your hand to console you, and you walked hand in hand until you made your way out of the woods and saw the gates of Bebbanburg again. You were both relieved to have made it out alive. And you fell to your knees for a quick prayer to give thanks once you stepped through the massive doors and heard them fall shut behind you.

You were then pleased to see Finan and Sigtryggr, who came over as soon as they saw you and Sihtric. Sigtryggr embraced you for a moment and told you he was glad you both made it back, and as he told you how he and Finan had made it back home, Sihtric quietly left to see if he could find his horse.

'We dismounted and just fought,' Sigtryggr said, 'we managed to fight our way out of the herd and luckily our horses could take us back. We looked for you and Sihtric before we left, but we couldn't search thoroughly as it was too dangerous.'

'I understand,' you said, seeing he was visibly upset he had left you and Sihtric behind in a way, 'you did what you had to do, you and Finan both did. I'm glad you both made it back too. Oh, have you seen Sihtric's horse? He was…' you stopped talking when you suddenly noticed Sihtric had vanished again.

'We found his horse when we fled the woods, we guided her along with us. She is safe too,' Sigtryggr said, 'now, you should get some rest.'

You retreated to your chamber and Eadith came over to hand you a bucket of warm water, so you could rinse yourself and warm up before you would lay down for a moment in your bed. And you woke up hours later, just in time before dinner, where you met Sihtric again after he had run off earlier without a word.

'Where'd you go?' you asked as you sat next to him at the table.

'Went looking for my horse,' Sihtric answered as he gulped down his food.

'I heard she's safe.'

'She is,' he smiled, 'a blessing from the gods, truly.'

You both finished your food and shared a jug of ale before you departed the gathering together and made way to your chambers. Sihtric walked you to your door, where he told you to rest well. He then kissed your cheek, albeit a little awkwardly it still made you blush and your heart flutter, and he then left for his own room, which was further down the long corridor.

The next morning you went to help Eadith wash clothes, and after the chores you went looking for Sihtric. But Sihtric was nowhere to be found, and neither was his horse. When you returned to Eadith, Hild had joined her to make some soup, and you asked if they knew where Sihtric had gone.

'He's out hunting with Finan,' Hild said.

'Out?' you asked, 'he's out there? When… when did he leave?'

'Before dawn,' Eadith said and looked up at you, 'are you okay?'

'Yes,' you lied and wanted to turn on your heels, but the ladies stopped you.

'What is going on?' Hild ask after she sat you down.

You nervously plucked at your brown dress, but you just couldn't hold it in anymore and you burst into tears as you told them about Sihtric's behaviour ever since you got there. And you told them how you thought you had made progress the day before, in the shed, and that he had kissed your cheek before you went to sleep. So the fact that he had left without a word made you feel all that progress had been lost again. You were confused and hurt, but also worried for his safety and that caused all your tears to fall down at once.

Hild and Eadith reassured you that Sihtric would return safely before nightfall, but they also told you that they couldn't explain his behaviour either.

'He's a man,' Hild sighed, 'and sometimes they don't think things through.'

'I'm sure he didn't mean to upset you by leaving like that,' Eadith agreed, 'he probably didn't realise it would make you worried.'

'But if you like him,' Hild said, 'you should tell him.'

And with that word of advice you eventually went out into the courtyard, where you met Osferth and helped him take care of the remaining horses while you learned he was a nice guy too. You told him Hild could teach him how to fight, since he lacked experience apparently, but he told you that Uhtred already had started the process of teaching him.

'I mean meeting with Uhtred once I've finished feeding the horses,' Osferth smiled, 'he will teach me how to use a sword.'

'And I'm sure you will do great,' you encouraged him.

You then told him to go already, and that you would water the horses for him. He thanked you kindly and went to find Uhtred. And when you went to fetch water from a well you walked into Aelswith, who was on her way to Alfred to bring him some broth, as he was feeling unwell. But when she saw you, she immediately came over.

'I am happy you returned safely, girl,' she smiled, 'it must have been a frightening night, to be trapped with a Dane in a shed,' she shivered.

'What?' you asked, confused and offended.

'You never know what those heathens are up to,' she sneered, 'I am happy he didn't touch you. I mean, he didn't, did he?'

'I'm sorry, I don't understand why you think he would-'

'Oh, poor thing,' she pulled you in for a hug, nearly spilling the broth over your dress, 'you must have been so scared. I prayed to God for your safekeeping, and He listened. He listened and brought you back safely!'

You were too stunned to speak and before you were able to collect your thoughts, she had already left and you found yourself alone and confused in the courtyard. You then remembered you were going to water the horses, and just when you finished that task you heard the heavy gates open. You almost dropped the last bucket of water as you made haste to the gates, just in time to see Finan and Sihtric dismount their horses and give one of Uhtred's servants the deer they had caught. Hild came up beside you, and she gave you a nudge when she saw you and Sihtric had locked eyes, both seemingly nailed to the ground.

'Go,' she whispered, 'me and Eadith will take care of the food tonight. You should talk to him.'

It took you a few long seconds to move again, but then you ran over and leaped into his arms, and he gladly caught you so he could hold you tightly.

'Why did you leave without a word?' you asked.

Sihtric looked guilty, knowing he shouldn't have left like that, and he took your hands.

'Come,' he said softly, and he took you to his chamber.

You both sat down on his bed, and you helped him untie the laces of his leather armour.

'Why did you leave like that? Without telling me?' you asked again.

Sihtric looked at you and shrugged lightly, 'Old habit I'm afraid. I'm sorry.'

'I've been worried about you all day, Sihtric.'

'I didn't think you'd worry, I'm sorry I made you worried. I didn't think you'd notice I'd left, I'm sorry.'

You were hurt by his response, and it clearly showed on your face while you stopped working his laces.

'No,' you said, almost embarrassed, 'I'm sorry that I thought there could be something between us.'

You got up from his bed, but Sihtric took your hand and pulled you back to him before you could storm off.

'There is,' he said, 'there… there is something. I'm just,' he hesitated, 'you know what I've lost. And I have healed from that, enough time has passed. But… you,' he sighed softly and took both your hands, 'I can't lose you too, and I'm terrified to lose you eventually.'

'So you'll continue to push me away?' you sniffled.

'No. I don't want that either,' Sihtric said and wiped your tears, 'I'm just not sure how to handle this. I want you close, but it makes me vulnerable too. I am not as focused anymore, I've noticed. I've made small mistakes while hunting, because my mind's wandering off to you. Even Finan noticed it and he wanted to kick my arse,' he chuckled softly, 'he said I'd be a fool if I'd let you slip out of my hands. And he's right, I know he is right. I don't want to push you away. I won't leave like that anymore, I promise. And I want to be around you more, I really do.'

'Well,' you smiled faintly at him and took his hands, 'how about we keep each other company tonight, after dinner?'

'I would like that,' Sihtric said and kissed the back of your hands, 'but first I need to bathe, because I smell like a dead deer.'

'You do,' you laughed.

You then helped him out of his armour and chainmail. And after you had untangled his braids, you left him to bathe in private while you cleaned up his leather armour.

You met Sihtric for dinner and sat side by side while you enjoyed the company of everyone else. You quietly told Hild about your encounter with Aelswith earlier that day, and she told you to not listen to the lady's rambles. And while you listened to Uhtred's amusing stories about teaching Osferth how to defend himself against the after-walkers, Sihtric searched for your hand under the table and held it. He then leaned in and slowly tucked your hair behind your ear as he brought his lips closer.

'Shall we go somewhere quieter?' he whispered in your ear.

You nodded and followed his lead, thanking everyone for the good food and the company before you disappeared out of the great hall.

'Yours or mine?' Sihtric asked.

'Yours,' you smiled as you walked hand in hand, 'my chamber is still quite empty, yours is cosy.'

'Then mine it is,' Sihtric smiled.

He took you to his room and lit several candles, as well as the hearth to light and warm up the place. He then took your hand again and led you to the furs in front of the fire, and you both sat down closely next to each other.

You gazed up at Sihtric, and your heart filled with warmth and a comforting happiness when he smiled at you. You brought your hand up and gently traced the scars on his face, those he had earned in battles over time, and you admired his rugged yet gentle appearance as the flames danced close beside you. Without any words spoken, Sihtric lightly caressed your cheek with the back of his hand before he took your chin, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss onto your lips. It left you breathless for a moment, but before Sihtric could fully pull away, you moved your hands up to his broad shoulders and gave him a light kiss in return.

Sihtric then pulled you onto his lap with ease, and he placed his hands on your sides while you wrapped your arms around his neck, and you then finally both went in for a longer and firmer kiss. You felt his hands move up to your neck, and he deepened the kiss slowly as he held you close. You mindlessly began to pull at his tunic, and he took it off before he pulled back towards him to continue kissing you. Your hands roamed over his bare torso, feeling the scars underneath your fingertips as you kissed him. Sihtric then took off your dress, leaving you in only your underclothes which covered your private parts. He leaned back in to kiss you again, but stopped when he suddenly noticed the bruises on your shoulder and arm, and he gave you a concerned and questioning look.

'It's from when I fell off the horse yesterday,' you whispered as you raked your fingers through his hair, 'it hurts a little, but it's nothing to be concerned about.'

'Why didn't you tell me you were hurting?' his voice was calm and soothing.

'I didn't think you cared,' you said softly.

'I'm sorry,' Sihtric whispered and kissed your lips, 'I'm sorry you thought I wouldn't care about your injuries,' he kissed your cheek, 'I'm sorry you thought I didn't want to be around you,' he kissed your jaw and down to your neck, 'I'm sorry you thought I hated you,' he carefully kissed your bruised shoulder, 'I'm sorry you thought that I left without a word this morning because I didn't care about you,' he looked at you as he palmed your cheek, 'when the truth is that I care too much about you, and that I want to be by your side all the time.'

'Sihtric,' you whispered and bit down on your lip as you looked at him, then cupped his cheek, 'it's okay.'

'No,' he whispered, 'no, it's not. All I did was push you away,' he breathed and carefully laid you down on the soft furs, 'when all I wanted was to love and protect you.'

'You did protect me, Sihtric,' you said as you pulled him on top of you by the leather cord he wore around his neck, on which a bronze pendant dangled, 'and now I want you to love me.'

The next morning you woke up before dawn in Sihtric's arms, in his bed and snug under the warm furs. You were still half asleep when you felt his lips on your neck and his arms squeeze you lightly as he held you from behind.

'I must leave soon,' he whispered in your ear.

'For what reason?' you mumbled.

'Hunting.'

'Again?'

'That deer we caught yesterday was barely enough to feed everyone,' he whispered, 'you know that too. Finan and Uhtred will be joining me today, as we have to scout the lands further than before. We're running out of animals to hunt here, we need to venture further if we want to stay alive.'

'I understand. Promise me you'll be careful?'

'Always.'

You turned around to face him, and you kissed him longingly for a moment until you were rudely interrupted by a hard knocking on the door.

'Sihtric!' Finan's thick accent sounded, 'hurry up already! We are ready and so are the horses!'

'Give me a moment!' Sihtric yelled back.

'Aye, you arseling,' Finan mumbled loud enough for you both to hear before he walked off.

You looked at Sihtric and giggled as he shook his head lightly with a smile on his face, and he then pulled the furcovers back over the two of you so he could make love to you one more time before he had to make a run for it.

You stepped out into the courtyard together after you helped Sihtric with his armour. Everyone who was present to wish the men a safe hunting figured out soon enough why Sihtric was late that morning, something unusual for him, when they saw you both walk out while Sihtric's hair was wild and unbraided.

'Your hair,' you had said in a haste when you got dressed quickly.

'There is no time,' Sihtric hurried while he had put on his boots.

You adjusted Sihtric's warm cloak so it sat more neatly on his shoulders, while Uhtred and Finan already mounted their horses and Eadith came over to hand them bread wrapped in clean cloth. She also gave her baking to Sihtric, who thanked her kindly and turned to his horse to tuck the bread in one of the leather bags attached to the saddle.

'Me and Hild,' Eadith whispered as she passed you, 'want to hear everything.'

You looked at her with flushed cheeks, and she gave you a wink as she grinned before she skipped off, back inside the great hall. You looked back over your shoulder and found Hild, who laughed and turned to follow Eadith into the kitchen.

'Darling,' Sihtric said, drawing your attention back to him again as he pulled you in by your waist, 'I have to go.'

'Come back to me,' you said, your fingers curled around the neck of his armour.

'If you wait for me,' he whispered and held your face in his hands.

Sihtric leaned in and kissed you briefly multiple times, until Finan cleared his throat in a taunting manner and Uhtred wolf whistled. Sihtric broke the kiss with a sigh, but you both could only laugh at the behaviour of the other men.

'I'm sorry about them,' Sihtric chuckled.

'It's okay,' you said, 'just promise you'll come back safely?'

'I will. You are now my reason to come back safely,' Sihtric whispered and kissed your forehead before he mounted his horse.

He then held his hand out to you, which you took, and he leaned in to kiss your hand before you watched the heavy gates of Bebbanburg open. And then the men left on their horses, to explore new territory in an attempt to find food and maybe even more. And you made your way inside to the kitchen, following Eadith and Hild.

'Is the broth for my husband ready?' Aelswith asked as she stood in the door of the kitchen.

You, Eadith and Hild looked up, with smiles and cheeky grins still visible on your faces after you had told them about your night and morning with Sihtric. And you could tell by the look on Aelswith's face that she had heard every word too before she interrupted, as she liked to eavesdrop around corners you had found out.

Eadith quietly handed Aelswith a bowl with broth, and Aelswith looked at you for a few long seconds.

'You will be punished for what you did,' Aelswith said with clear disgust on her face, 'you have sinned, and God will punish you for that.'

'Have I not been punished enough already?' you asked, to which she made a face and left the kitchen.

'Don't listen to her,' Eadith said after a moment.

'I know,' you sighed, 'but she should worry about her husband, instead of sticking her nose in my business.'

'You're right,' Hild said as she cleaned the wooden counter, 'Alfred needs more than just broth every day. He needs more nourishing foods, but she won't allow him to eat any meat.'

'Apparently eating meat is a sin too,' Eadith added, 'so she just lets him suffer.'

'What a cruel woman,' you said, to which the others clearly agreed.

'But back to your adventures,' Eadith laughed, then lowered her voice, 'was he really that good?'

'He was,' you laughed, 'you have no idea-'

You were cut off when sudden screaming erupted from the courtyard, and you all dropped what you were doing to run outside. You met Sigtryggr on your way out, who asked what had happened, but you had no answer for him. And while you ran out, several people came running in, terrified as they screamed something about after-walkers. Sigtryggr managed to grab one maid's arm as she ran, and he asked her what was going on.

'They're in the walls!' the maid cried, 'the after-walkers are in the walls!'

She pulled her arm out of Sigtryggr's grip, who then looked at you with great concern.

'Weapons,' Hild said, 'we need to get our weapons!'

You all ran towards the great hall, where all the weapons were stored when not being carried, and you found Osferth and Pyrlig already there.

'We must fight,' Pyrlig said, and he ran back out again.

You gathered a sword and a seax, while Sigtryggr picked up his sword and a spear, and Eadith and Hild both grabbed a longsword each.

'Can you aim?' you asked Osferth, who grabbed a bow.

'Yes, lady,' he said, 'Sigtryggr's wife taught me before she died.'

'Then why are you never out hunting?'

'Alfred won't allow Uhtred to let me out of these walls,' he said softly.

You were stunned, but with no more time to talk, you both ran to join the others.

'Father Beocca!' you yelled as you passed him, 'grab a sword- wait, where are you going?!'

'I- I shall pray!' Beocca replied and hurried inside as you ran out.

You quickly forgot what Beocca said as you saw the horrors that were unfolding in Bebbanburg's courtyard. Several after-walkers had somehow made it inside the walls, while the gates were still shut tightly, and they had killed numerous people in their wake already. Bodies were scattered throughout the place while those still alive were screaming and hiding.

Each man and woman who were skilled enough fought off the undead to save the fort and its residents from further damage, while everyone also tried to understand where the after-walkers had come from. You beheaded a few yourself and stabbed their skulls, then went along with Sigtryggr and Hild to make sure that the people who had fallen victim to the undead wouldn't become undead themselves, by beheading them and piercing their brains with your seax.

It all happened so fast, but it was also over just as quickly as it had started. Only about a dozen of after-walkers had managed to get in, and they were quickly killed off by everyone who took a stand. When the silence seemed to return to the courtyard, one young maid approached and spoke up as she was in tears.

'It… it was me,' she sobbed, her hand covering a large bleeding wound on her arm, 'I secretly went to fetch flowers in the forest, which I have done so many times before, but I forgot to close the wooden panel I always sneak out of. And now,' she fell to her knees, 'I… I've been bitten.'

Everyone stared in horror at the young maid. You all knew it was a matter of time before she would bleed out and in turn become undead herself. You all felt a certain resentment, for she had endangered everyone and even got people killed, but you all also felt your heart break at her tragic ending. And no one had the heart to stand up and end her misery, except for father Pyrlig.

'I will do it,' he said softly, 'the rest of you go inside, see if none of the after-walkers made it inside the halls. Everyone injured must be brought outside, so Eadith and Hild can tend to them and see if their wounds are fatal.'

'Osferth and I,' Sigtryggr said, 'we will look for the wooden panel and nail it shut. No one,' he raised his voice, 'and I mean no one will leave this place unless it's through those gates!' he pointed his sword to the main gate, 'and nothing will come in here either unless it's through those gates!'

'The former King!' Beocca suddenly cried out as he emerged from one of the halls, 'the former King and his Lady have been killed.'

'I found them like this,' Beocca said sadly as you both stared at the half torn apart bodies of Alfred and Aelswith, 'I came to their chamber to see if they were safe, and to pray with them, but they were already bitten and scratched. They bled out in minutes. I know what needs to be done, but I do not have the heart to… to end it.'

You said nothing as you looked at the corpses, and you stabbed them in the head without hesitation. You then turned to Beocca, who looked pale as a ghost, while you wiped the blood off your seax.

'Did it work, Father?' you asked coldly.

'I'm sorry?'

'Your prayers,' you said, 'did they work?'

And you left before Beocca could even respond, already knowing the answer to your own question. Outside Sigtryggr approached you, and he told you the gap in the wall had been found and fixed. Eadith and Hild had searched the entire fort and only encountered two more after-walkers, who were killed and dragged out to the courtyard. Osferth and Pyrlig were busy stacking all the scattered corpses on a cart, which would be pulled by horse to the centre of the courtyard, where the dead would be burned.

And as you watched the flames devour the bodies, you couldn't help but bite back your tears, as all you wanted was to be with Sihtric and to feel safe again. But you had no idea if he was safe himself, or if he would ever return safely again...

Chapter 2 drops tomorrow.

Taglist: @mrsarnasdelicious @neonhairspray @sihtricsafin @errruvande @penumbrie @lexeirikrleif @diiickbrainn @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @bubblyabs @dixie-elocin @alexagirlie @stupiddarkkside @urmomsgirlfriend1 @gemini-mama @foxyanon @man-i-be-that-pretty-motherfuckr @thenameswinter99 @m-a-s-h-k-a @superblyzanynight @hernakedmuse @ewanmitchellfanatic @lady-targaryens-world @cosmosnkaz @stronger-than-steel

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #tlk au #sihtric au #tlk fic

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natailiatulls07 · 2 years ago

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Drive to survive

Charles Leclerc & leclerc!driver!reader

Summary - Netflix's drive to survive interviews Y/n and Charles Leclerc about something that caused immense issues

Warning - Cheating, car crash, panic attack, fire, crying, swearing and self doubt

Reader drives for Ferrari

Purple is flashbacks

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"Hello, I'm Y/n Leclerc. I'm 24 years old and I race for Ferrari alongside my twin brother, Charles Leclerc" I sat in the seat just in front of the camera, my anxiety throw the roof. My last season had ended on a bad note, with some personal troubles effecting my focus on track.

The producer settled herself down just to the side of the camera with a hand full of questions and topics that we would talk through for Netflix. "How are you feeling right now?"

Taking a deep breath in and out before answering. "yeah..I think I'm good. but yet I guess I'll have to be" A nervous chuckle left my lips which earned me a look of sympathy from the producer.

Looking down at her paper, she prepared herself to ask the first question. "So how do you feel after your ending last year?" Her voice calm and collected, as if she wanted me to feel that energy, this was what I was grateful for.

It took me a second of debating, debating my answer. "Um yeah, I mean it was a hard time obviously...I had some personal problems regarding my relationship and unfortunately that had its effect on my performance" A pause to think over my answer. "Of course I should not have um let that effect my performance, which I am greatly disappointed at myself for"

Walking into my appartment, I noticed the absence of Theo in the open plan kitchen lounge. I searched further into the appartment. Thats where I saw Theo in my bed with another girl.

Tears were welling up in my eyes, I had been dating him since I was just twenty but yet he decided to throw that away for some girl. "What the fuck?!" Shock, betrayal and heartbreak. Thats all I felt.

That night I kicked him and his sidechick out of my appartment, wanting to see nothing of them ever again. Luckily my three brothers were coming round that evening. So when they saw me, cheeks burned with tears, they knew something happened.

It was the last grand prix of the season, Abu Dhabi, I was sat in p4 just awaiting for the five red lights to flash away. My head was clogged with that day, the day I got heartbroken. "Radio check, radio check" My race engineers voice came through my headset.

"Loud and clear..." Voice low and weary as I replied.

"Y/n...you can do it, just forget and clear your mind" He knew of my heartache, heck everyone knew, wanting nothing more for me to end the season on a high note.

That race was my worst race to date. I didn't finish it. It was the Abu Dhabi race where I crashed, the Abu Dhabi race where I just sat by my burning car tangled up in a panic attack. I couldn't control my breathing or my mind.

Not my finest hour, in my opinion it was my very worse.

Looking down at my lap, I could see my leg persistantly bumping up and down. It was hard to talk about that time. "What was your first instinct to your crash?" The producer asked her next question.

Once again my mind was casted back to that night. "Well um I remember that after I got out of my car, I couldn't stop crying and I couldn't control my breathing. I was having a panic attack and I just couldn't calm myself down"

It was loud. I could hear the safety team trying to calm down the fire. I could hear fans watching on from the sidelines. I could hear my race engineer trying to calm me down through my headset. I felt like I was moving away from the real world every second.

My mind couldn't focus on one thing. I felt the warmth of the fire on my body. I felt the hands of a safety team member trying to bring me back down to earth.

When Charles heard the red flag through his radio, his mind went straight to Y/n. Where was Y/n? Is Y/n okay? Growing up Charles grew more and more protective of his twin.

So when he saw her car and herself not in attendance of the Ferrari, he became even the more distressed. But when he saw the crash on the large television screen, he set off run towards it much to the team dismay.

Charles ran until he reached the burn car. He saw her sat there curled up in her arms.

"Bébé bébé peux-tu m'entendre? Je suis là, souffle souffle écoute mon coeur" He pulled her into himself, moving her head to rest just above his heart. Wanting her to hear his heartbeat and copy it.

Charles knew of her panic attacks, he watched them grow worse and worse as they grew up. But he always knew how to help her, calm her down and breath.

Charles Leclerc, Ferrari

"How did you feel when you saw your teammate and sister crash and then have a panic attack?" The producer asked the 25 year old Ferrari driver.

His eyes downcasted, that night was his nightmare. "I remember feeling um this sense of terror fill me when I saw her crash. Aside from being my teammate at Ferrari, Y/n is my twinsister. She's has always had her panic attacks but that night..." Charles felt his eye water up even at the thought.

"That night was the worst panic attack she has ever had, I don't think I'll recover from that night" Standing up from his chair, Charles walked away from the camera. Tears flooding down his cheeks.

Y/n Leclerc, Ferrari

"It was only when Charles came that I started to come back down to earth. It's always when he comes that I come back." It was always Charles who helped me through my panic attacks.

Charles. He has been my rock ever since forever. He had been my rock when times got rough and tough. Before each race checking on me and everyday checking on me. He knew how hard I was taking my breakup and just wanted to help me through that.

Once again, I took in another deep breath, trying to distance myself from that night. "So 2023, how are you feeling about returning to Ferrari with Charles by your side?" The producer continued.

A small smile made its way to my face. "Yeah um I'm excited of course. I love racing, I love getting behind that wheel and fighting for a place on the podium, fighting for first place" Nodding my head, with approval of my comment.

"Well thank you so much for talking with us today, I know it's hard to talk about something like that" The camera were cut off, we both stood up from our seats.

Walking out of the studio, I felt a sense of relief and solace fall on my shoulders. This replacing the deep sorrow and disappointment.

I heard my appartment door open and close. Walking into the kitchen lounge, Charles had a proud smile on his face. "Whats got you smile like that?" I laughed at my confusion, Charles joining in with my amused laughter.

"Lucy, your manager, just called me and she told me about your interview with Netflix today...I'm so proud of you baby sis" His tears cloud his waterline whilst tears of my own clouded my own.

Finally, I had gotten over my anxiety and my regret. I could breath again.

#formula one #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #x sister reader #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader #lorenzo leclerc #pascale leclerc #f1 #formula one x y/n #lando norris #max verstappen #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #george russell #yuki tsunoda #fernando alonso #carlos sainz

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riewritten · 9 months ago

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so i went to a remote area this weekend for a field work and i cant help but imagine erwin during the ride... like in an interview he said that if given the chance, he would like to live in a remote cabin, right?

LIVING IN THE CABINS OF TROST

ERWIN SMITH X GENDER NEUTRAL READER

TAGS: post-canon, erwin lives agenda, fluff, age-gap (lol rie tell us what we don't know!), love confessions, basically jus wholesome stuff

WORDS: 2k

Trost District’s advanced practice had saved their economy from titan invasion years ago, but sadly not every district in Paradis would like to apply it in consideration to the nobilities. In principle, you’d like to have it implemented in the rest of the island whose pride has long belonged in its rich agricultural resources. To know the bounties of Trost to the fullest, you’ll have to live with them for a month!

Lo and behold, you’ll come across the Erwin Smith as one of the residents. You see, he doesn’t talk much to people, let alone from outsiders, but the villagers love him because of his kindness and intelligence; they’re confident that if there’s someone who could help you the most, it’ll be no other than this man. And, strangely so, Erwin welcomed you with open arms the moment he knew of your research.

He doesn’t want the residents to treat you as an inconvenience so as soon as he learns your university isn’t funding student researchers—which makes you lack the resources to rent a dorm in Trost—he gladly opens the spare room he had built inside his cabin at your disposal.

However, amidst the neat and swift arrangement, you can’t help but be bothered because not only is he so kind for reasons you’re yet to unveil, but you are to live with him! A very handsome middle-aged man who is unreasonably single, especially in a period where people as young as sixteen are already bearing children!

Maybe the sheer change the Paradis had become since the walls collapsed has something to do with it?

However, it isn’t long until you’ve learned that he is none but the very commander who had contributed the most for the freedom of Paradis. He suddenly blurts out over breakfast that he was the 13th Commander back in his prime. The 13th commander of the Scout Regiment. You took history classes really well so you know what the 13th commander has done; it’s just that you never remembered his name because as far as you are concerned, the former commander opted not to publish his name in books and told the historians to ensure every contribution of his comrades would be noted instead. Your teachers spoke of him so highly–indeed, an amalgamation of what a real leader must be.

The way you started shaking over the coffee and bread Erwin had prepared made him panic, “Oh no, was the coffee too strong for your liking? I'm so sorry.”

And when you eventually cry and utter praises and gratitude for serving the country well, he starts laughing—boisterously so. That was sure a laugh he had never done during his prime.

He then pats your head, “Well, our efforts have never gone to waste because of smart students like you, no?”

To integrate more with the Trost community, Erwin fetches you to other neighbors using his old car every morning (he bought it for a discounted price at an auction—scratch that, the merchant almost gave it to him because he was a huge fan. Had Erwin been a boastful bastard, he wouldn’t even bother paying for it). He says the ride to another farm takes around half an hour, so you two take your time talking about a lot of things. He turns gloomy whenever the topic of being a commander is talked upon, so you’re always sure to stay with the menial—his favorite areas on his lawn, the things he’d like to do in the future to make his little paradise even better to live in, and more.

Oh, how badly you yearn for a life like his.

And when late afternoon comes, Erwin would pick you up from the neighborhood so you can accompany him to the wet market approximately an hour away. Erwin usually takes this chance to talk to the merchants because he supplies them his harvest at a low price for extra income (what a strategic and simple man he is!) then you two would restock condiments and other needs in the house that his small farm couldn’t provide. The life Erwin has is surely tiring for you who’s basically raised in a highly urbanized area, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy it especially with his company.

One of the best things he has ever shown you is the tiny river surrounded by giant trees where he takes a bath. The scenery makes you feel like some sort of deity in an urban legend; sun would peak behind the leaves and onto the water, then the water would bounce back its light towards your glimmering eyes—full of adoration at god’s creation. The river is quite cold and sometimes the breeze these trees exude freezes your skin, yet it feels so fresh, so pleasing to look at, and you wouldn’t mind if you’re not accustomed to taking a bath in an open area. No reason to be scared, too, as the singing birds and cicadas keep you company. Not far from here, you could also hear Erwin’s daily wood chopping. Of course, he’s just there, ready to rescue you if you slip on the rocks or some intruder tries to come at you.

One of the best tasks he had entrusted you with (which you asserted to be tasked because you couldn’t fathom not paying him rent) is plucking ripe fruits from his farm. In your hometown, every need comes with money, but here, one could survive with just the gifts of land ripened by their hard work.

“It makes your research more valuable, doesn’t it?” Erwin affirms. “Imagine every citizen in Paradis being able to live a life not based on money once the government appreciates agrarian reforms more, given how rich our country is with natural resources.”

The distance you had with him as he intricately teaches you how to cut fruit from its stem, his appreciation for your principles (which students from the urban area often laugh about), and the way his hands brush against yours while he’s correcting your posture because the way of cutting needs to be precise so the stem could still be capable of bearing another fruit—it all fills your heart with sheer warmth. When night comes and you’re alone in your room, you finally deduce what you feel for him—it’s not just mentorship that you want, or his kindness, or even his farm.

You want him as he is. You want to give back all the help he has given you by loving him with all your heart.

As the research is about to end, you realize that you soon will be bidding him farewell to go back to your hometown, to live a boring university life, to take a bath in the constricted bathroom of your dormitory, and to worry about filling money up your sleeves so you could eat instead of just plucking out leaves and straight up cooking it. It fills your heart with sorrow; you hope you can just stay with him.

On one of your final days in Erwin’s house, you wake up with rain so strong tip taps of water can be heard from the roof towards the wooden floor. Erwin knocks and asks if he could fix it as you eat breakfast but as soon as you open the door for him, you start crying.

“I'm sorry, it happens a lot during rainy days. I should've warned you.” Perhaps he’s thinking that an urban girl like you would deem living in this wooden cabin overwhelming, but it’s rather far from it. “I’m thinking of replacing the roof with cement instead of mere iron strips, but I can only do that when summer comes. you might not be here anymore by that time, though.”

“Can I just live here for good? I don’t want to go,” you wail, the attachment and adoration you have for this new friend flowing through your tears. “I want to live here for good!”

“Because you want to witness the renovation of my roof…?”

“No!”

Erwin is surprised at your sudden rise in tone, but eventually he smiles—he smiles despite not understanding it all, “I’ll consider, but only after you let me fix the hole in your room.”

It took you five minutes of wailing (and Erwin’s gentle taps on your shoulder) before you stepped away from the door and let him in, with which he whispered a small praise, “Good girl. Now come on, eat your breakfast and drink your coffee. We’ll talk after I'm done here.”

His voice sounded so warm, deep, and gentle in that particular remark.

You manage to do what he asked of you, albeit with little hiccups. To be honest, had Erwin lacked the academic knowledge to help you finish your research, your stay in his home would’ve lasted longer. but he’s such a smart man—even on par with your actual research professor—that it even makes you wonder if his parents were formerly part of the academy, too.

When Erwin learns of that fact, he laughs in guilt, “I'm sorry! I admit I got too caught up with your research. You should’ve shooed me away when I got too invasive! Is that why you were crying?”

“No! It’s because I want to stay with you longer!” you cry, albeit impulsively, because you are drenched in cold water as soon as you see Erwin’s surprised face.

Nonetheless, he’s able to compose himself, “Seems like you loved living in Trost, hm? It’s okay, you could visit us here even after your research is—”

“I meant you! I want to stay with you specifically!”

Oh god, did bathing in the river give you a bravado as strong as Erwin’s? You’re not usually this blunt.

“Why, if it’s fine to ask?” Erwin starts, his face more serious this time around, albeit there’s a tinge of expression you couldn’t quite decipher.

You wouldn’t be able to take this back. You wouldn’t be able to take this back. You wouldn’t be able to take this ba— “Because I like you!”

You wouldn’t be able to take that back!

“Oh god,” you covered your face in embarrassment. “I-I’ll be back! I’m sorry!” then you stand up from your seat and hurry towards the door.

You run to the secluded river to wash your face from embarrassment (or perhaps drown in it for good), but after a throaty scream of shame, you notice a presence behind you.

“E-Erwin!” you screech in surprise. “I told you I’ll be back soon!”

“Repeat what you just said.”

“The what?”

“What you said before running off. Repeat it.”

“Are you angry?” you weakly mutter.

“What? No! I mean—” the unusual stuttering made Erwin chuckle in defeat. “Please, I just want to hear it again.”

His soft eyes on the ground, one you couldn’t quite decipher earlier, is much more understandable now. It gave you more courage to admit more, “I said I like you.”

“As a host or…?”

The question almost ruins the mood, and yet you think that’s the most adorable Erwin has been since you’ve known him. All this time you thought of him as someone who knew everything astutely.

“What do you mean ‘as a host?’ I know we have a bit of a generational gap but I’m certain what I said was clear enough!”

He walks closer until you’re centimeters apart, eventually he smiles in realization. Then he cups your cheeks and says, “Finish your research and come back here. you’ll hear my answer by then.”

“Huh?” you scorn, “Why don’t you answer now while I’m still—”

A kiss on your forehead cuts you off. It lasts for ten seconds or so—you know because you started counting it out of fluster. While on it, he rubs his thumb on your cheeks in circular motions. The sensations render you in a haze. As soon as he withdraws, you bury your head on his chest, taking his scent in even though you don’t understand what’s happening.

“What I could offer to you is nothing in comparison to the life ahead of you in Stohess. Do what you must there—submit your research, advocate for your principles until your voice reaches more people, and if by then you still can’t stop thinking of me, by all means, stay by my side for good.”

“How can I be sure that you’re not married the moment I come back?!”

He chuckles, then places your hand on his chest. His forehead bumps on yours, a knowing smile plastered on his lips, and his eyes reeking of adoration. “Because my heart has been yours the moment you set your foot here.”

p lease i encourage everyone to continue this fic for me because as much as i love the prompt i donT HAVE THE TIME TO TURN IT INTO AN ACTUAL THING 😭😭�� PLEASEDKDKSED

also here's a majestic fan art of idrawr16yt that helped me visualize what a retired-commander-living-in-the-countryside erwin smith would look like

🔖 @xiaotopia @cadenza-damour @rinamars @grimistheangerinmystares @suntizme @onasvigo @inkofteyvat @aeanya @watyousayin @collinnmckinley @frenchdyer | SUBSCRIBE/UNSUBSCRIBE TO MY STORIES

#I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE IT #JDIFEDJKEJDISXJKS #I CANT STOP THINKING OF IT LAST SATURDAY HHEEELLPP IM BEYOND SAVING #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith x you #erwin smith x y/n #erwin smith canon #erwin smith fanfic #erwin smith fanfiction #aot x reader #aot x you #aot x y/n #aot reader insert #aot fanfiction #aot erwin x reader #aot erwin x you #aot erwin x y/n

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