#i'm so prepared and yet the panic is so real

[jaztice]

Extra Ordinary launching on March 10!

Hi everyone! Just wanted to push my upcoming Kickstarter again in case folks missed it! It’s called Extra Ordinary, a GM-full, rules-light game about being an extraordinary kid on the run from constant danger in the ordinary world. Planned Kickstarter launch date is March 10, 2025, so follow the Kickstarter page if you’re interested to stay in the loop! There's also a free Quickstart available on my itch if you want to play or read it beforehand.

Reblog to help promote the game if you so desire!

[nonotnolan]

Trial Period

"Harry, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Blake's voice rang out through the apartment, though I couldn't quite tell why my roommate was currently mad at me. Still, if I didn't talk him down from whatever ledge he was on, he was just going to get more and more pissy. I sighed, and minimized the spreadsheet I was working on.

"Blake, you know I'm working from home today. Whatever you're mad about, you can come in here and talk to me about it. I'm sorry I left some dirty dishes in the sink, or whatever." He must have been mad, whatever I had done-- usually he waited until after he showered to talk to me.

He stomped into the living room so that he could stare down at me. "Oh no. You are in way more trouble than that. I just had the most interesting conversation at the gym today. Some beanpole fairy came up started flirting with me, and when I told him I didn't swing that way, guess what he did?" He paused, clearly waiting for me to confess to something, but I still had no idea why he was upset. "He pulled out his phone, and showed me a whole-ass conversation on Grindr with someone using my photos!"

I couldn't help but laugh, which certainly did not help him calm down. "Okay, and? Look, I'm sorry you got catfished, but I don't know why you're mad at me about it. You're trying to start a modeling career, right? It's one of the unfortunate risks of the job. I'm sorry that one of your Instagram followers has no sense of chill, but I don't see why that makes it my fault."

He shoved his phone into my face. "You see this photo? I downloaded it for a scheduled post, but it's from a gig that hasn't released yet. I'm not allowed to share any of those photos on social media until the magazine spread drops. You're the only other person who could have gotten onto my phone and grabbed it."

Well, that was a complication that I wasn't expecting. I stared at him, trying and failing to think of a loophole that sounded plausible. There was only one thing left to do. "Seth, I know you're in here," I said, loudly projecting my voice. "I know you wanted to try out a few different guys before you committed, but that's not gonna work anymore. The trial period is officially over. You broke it, you bought it. If you don't take Blake, he's going to ruin everything."

Blake scowled at me. "Who the fuck is Seth? Harry, what in the fuck is going on?"

"You're so cute when you're confused," I said, pinching his cheek. He was already pissed at me, I may as well go all out. Besides, I needed to give Seth enough time to prepare. "I'm not actually Harry. I haven't been for the last two weeks, not that you noticed. I'm actually a ghost who decided that this apartment would be a great place to find some new bodies to inhabit. And let's be honest, this whole complex is jam packed with hot, young studs like yourself." I couldn't help but flash an excited grin, and I think I might have let my real eyes flash for a few seconds. Well, whatever. I no longer needed to worry about keeping secrets from Blake.

I had clearly spooked him-- he started creeping backwards toward the door. "Harry, you're scaring me. That's not funny. Don't joke about that sort of thing, Harry. Just… fuck, delete that profile and promise me you won't do it again."

"Like I said, I'm not Harry," I said, grabbing my laptop bag and putting it in arm's length. I pulled out the mason jar that had Harry's soul in it, and placed it on the couch. "This is Harry. Or, what's left of him, anyway." Harry's soul fluttered around in a panic, banging into the glass walls as it tried to escape. Or maybe it was trying to warn Blake about what was about to happen next? It didn't really matter.

Blake had turned to run, but he didn't make it more than a few steps into the kitchen before he fell to the ground, as if something had slammed into his back. Seth hated possessing people using brute force, but his error hadn't left us with many other options. "Sorry for the close call, Phil," he said, adjusting his posture. Where Blake was constantly puffing his chest and arching his back, Seth had more of a forward slouch to his shoulders. It was a posture I was very familiar with-- regardless of the bodies we wore, we had been together long enough to recognize each other's presence.

"At least Blake has a good body," Seth said as he pulled himself up off the ground. "I was probably going to end up choosing this one anyway, to be honest." He started feeling up his chest, giving his nipples a few test pinches and letting out a soft moan. "Oh yeah, he's just as sensitive as I remembered. Do you have any spare jars in your bag? Obviously I didn't have time to put him to sleep before I possessed him, and he's just screaming non-stop in my head right now."

"Sounds like that's what you get for being careless," I said. "You know that helping you expel the soul is my favorite part. I'm not letting you rub one out in the bathroom, we're doing this the right way."

Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. "Come on, babe. You're at work for another five hours. I already said I was sorry, please don't force me to put up with the flesh owner for that long."

I closed my laptop and started unbuttoning my shirt. "Who said anything about waiting for me to get off work? No one tracks my activity as long as I get my work done on time." I leaned back and started groping Seth's hefty bulge. "Besides, we both know that Harry is trapped in a shit job. I bet we can get him something that pays way better."

He leaned over to give me a deep kiss. "You know, one of these days you'll get tired of turning your new hosts into porn stars," he said, as I grabbed one of the empty soul jars.

"Maybe so," I admitted. "But that day is not today. This body is wasted on white collar work. Anyway, you know the drill. Time for lube-- I want you to ride my cock while I sit here." He placed the jar underneath his hardening cock, ready to catch his load.

The first time we fucked in new bodies was always my favorite. Seth came first, coating the inside of the jar with a layer of jizz in addition to Blake's soul. I wasn't too far behind, since Harry's body was new to gay sex and still quite sensitive. I rolled off to the side and basked in the afterglow while Seth sealed the jar and placed it next to Harry's soul.

"Part of me still wants to be mad at you for almost ruining everything with that 'trial period' idea of yours," I said, as he laid down next to me to cuddle. "Next time we need to pick new hosts, we're picking one and done again. None of this trying out multiple bodies rubbish, it's too much risk."

Seth just smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. "Fine, no more shopping around, I promise. But you know you can't stay mad at me." As we laid there, holding each other tight, I had to admit that he was right.

[nnight-dances]

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!"

–

[imloyaltoscoups]

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.

....... ≿━━━༺WONWOO༻━━━≾ .......

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and she's not only ours - Lewis Hamilton

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

Navigating the journey from being a couple to becoming a family is often likened to entering a whole new world—one filled with unpredictable challenges and profound joys. The radiant 7-month-old girl had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of your lives, captivating not only you and Lewis but everyone who crossed her path. Yet, adjusting to new routines, shifting priorities, managing emotional and physical changes, and, most crucially, cultivating a deep bond with your child were aspects of parenthood that no book, class, or well-meaning advice had adequately prepared you for.

And so, the real test of parenthood often lay in learning to prioritize.

“Oh my God, she’s growing up so quickly!” Susie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she entered the living area of your apartment, making a beeline for the giggling toddler seated in her bumbo seat on the kitchen island.

“Please, don’t remind me. Time is flying by too fast already,” you replied, your smile widening as you watched your baby recognize Susie and reach out to be scooped up.

“I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced… I just... I had to know why,” Susie said, her expression curious and concerned.

You had expected people to comment and be surprised, but you hadn’t anticipated the attention coming so soon, even before you and Lewis had a chance to share your news.

“So, I take it everyone at Mercedes already knows?”

“More like everyone on the paddock, probably,” Susie confirmed.

“Do you remember her first few days? When she struggled to gain weight and every day felt like a battle?”

The first inkling that something was amiss came mere hours after you had returned home with your newborn daughter. Her incessant cries and insatiable hunger, even after an hour of breastfeeding, had raised red flags.

You had been warned that the initial days would be challenging—that you were now solely responsible for nourishing a tiny human. So, you soldiered on, suppressing your growing panic and tears, dreading the 40-minute feeding intervals where you’d bite your tongue and cheeks to keep from crying.

You tried every trick in the book—increasing your water intake, warm and cold compresses, dietary changes, pumping between feeds, consulting lactation specialists, and even consuming magic lactation cookies. Yet, your milk supply remained stubbornly low.

The sense of failure weighed heavily on you; your primary role was to nurture your baby, something you had done successfully during pregnancy. Instead of relishing the joys of new motherhood, you felt like a failure, a lesser mother to your daughter and a villain to your husband's fairytale of having kids.

Lewis was acutely aware of your distress and tried to be supportive. Despite knowing, as doctors and specialists had advised, that you needed to supplement with formula for both your daughter’s and your own well-being, he refrained from pressuring you. Every night he would feel as though you were punching him in the face when you went out of his sight to cry, or how his chest would tighten when he carried your screaming daughter in his arms, knowing she needed more, from him and from you. Still, he didn’t have in him to lecture you, yet again, on how that little girl needed more, not when you were giving your life and sanity away for her.

It wasn’t until the day before her second week checkup that you broke down. You knew the scale wasn’t going to give her much more grams than she had the past week, way less than she deserved and the added burden that he would be going for his first race of the season in a couple days had you reaching your breaking point.

Seeing Lewis on the sofa, looking worried and worn-out, you collapsed in front of him, letting your tears flow freely. He held you, comforting you with gentle whispers, and you both agreed that transitioning to formula was for the best. Despite the months of hearing about the benefits of breastfeeding, you had come to understand that sometimes the most challenging part of parenthood was knowing when to stand your ground and make the best choice for your family.

“We don’t want his job to feel like a burden every weekend,” you said.

“So, the Hamiltons will be a staple in the paddocks?” Susie asked, her approving smile revealing her pride.

“Life doesn’t always go as planned, does it?” You shrugged

“The media is going to love that smile,” Susie cooed, her attention directed at the toothy grin of your daughter.

“Yeah… She won’t be only ours, but Lewis needs her as much as she needs him. I guess it’s a small price to pay,” you replied, smiling at your yawning daughter in Susie’s lap, her little hands rubbing her eyes—a clear sign that her naptime was due.

“Please, let me. She still loves Disney songs, right?” Susie absentmindedly asked, already heading towards your daughter’s room, laying the toddler on her cheast and ready to lull her to sleep with a familiar melody. As you watched, you couldn’t help but marvel at how your daughter had already captured so many hearts at such a young age.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you'd like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[whump-imagines]

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.

[delaber]

A Date (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: you have a date and Bucky’s not exactly happy about it.

Words: 3.8K

Trope: friends to lovers 💞 with a jealous Bucky trying his best to be brave, and failing horribly.

Notes: another fluff piece to mend Bucky’s heart ❤️ honestly, I have a problem with all these fluffy fics I’ve been writing recently. I just cannot stop myself lol.

"You have a date?" he manages to splutter just before the panic takes over and makes his heart skip a few beats.

Fuck!

A fucking date?!

His fingers are slipping on the wet handle of the pan he's in the midst of cleaning, and in that moment, all he can think about is how happy he is that he's currently bent over the kitchen sink so you can't make out the shocked expression on his face.

You're nodding beside him, playing with the dishtowel you're holding but Bucky can hardly make out what you're saying when you return his question with a quiet "yeah".

His ears are ringing bells and he just wants to get the fuck out of there.

Silently, he's begging for you to stop talking. He doesn't want to know more. Doesn't want to hear what you've agreed to and who you're... - fuck, what if it's someone he knows?

What if it's Sam?!

Shit!

The panic in Bucky's chest runs amok! If he walks in on his two best friends fucking, he's gonna kill himself!

With dread, he realises that he has to know how careful he needs to be around the compound...

"With - uh - with whom?" he clears his throat and curls his toes in prepared mortification, his narrowed gaze firmly fixed on a wet piece of broccoli that's lying lonely and sad at the bottom of the sink.

Please don't say Sam, please don't say Sam...

"You know the cute guy from the coffee shop?" you answer proudly, and it makes Bucky's heart spring violently back to life. That guy??? "- he finally asked me."

Well, it's not Sam - yet somehow, it's worse.

Deep breath, he tells himself and plasters on a neutral expression as he looks up from the pan and directly into your eyes.

At least you look excited, he concludes as he takes in your dreamy little smile that's usually reserved for when vibranium fingers briefly brush over your warm skin but that he now has to share with... him. The moron in the green apron. Mr I'm-too-busy-flirting-with-your-girl-to-get-your-order-right.

Fuck, he's burning up!

"That's great, sweetheart," he hears himself croak from far away, trying his best to sound like he's happy for you and not as if his heart is in the process of being ripped out of his chest. "I'm real happy for you."

"Thanks, Buck," you playfully bump your hip against his while looking down at your hands as you once again twist the towel between your fingers.

You seem almost... nervous. This date must really be a big deal to you.

He gulps and pushes away another incoming wave of nausea. It's not as if he hasn't long ago accepted that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. You're friends. That's it.

"Are you excited?" He asks without really knowing why. He doesn't want to hear your answer. To hear you verbally confirm the look you already have on your face.

Slowly you look up at him and he has to chomp down on his inner cheek to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"You know what?" you ask quietly with a tilt of your head and Bucky's heart starts racing even harder. "- I actually am."

Even you sound surprised - not that Bucky can really blame you.

"Mmh," he merely hums and pretends there's a particularly stubborn area on the dirty pan that needs his attention.

"Is that weird?" You ask.

He can feel how the sincere question in your voice laces itself around his abdomen, squeezing him tight.

Is it wrong of him to want to snap the stupid piece of teflon-coated metal in his hand in half? You're his best friend and he should just be happy you're happy.

Fuck it, he is happy! He loves you more than anything and you deserve to feel this way - he just wishes it was because of him and not someone else.

"No, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to untie the invisible knot behind his navel as he starts scrubbing again. "Why would it be weird?"

Thankfully, you don't answer.

...

Cold droplets of water are running over your forehead and down the length of your nose, desperately trying to reduce the tension that's been resting right between your eyebrows since your conversation with Bucky last night.

Splashing your face with water is a stupid attempt to make yourself feel better - you know that - it hasn't worked the other times you've tried it and this must be the tenth attempt since you woke up this morning. The only thing that'll truly help is if Bucky would tell you what's going on.

He's been acting weird since last night, and even though you aren't sure what reaction you'd been hoping for, this definitely isn't it. You know he isn't exactly the biggest fan of the man who's taking you out for dinner later, but getting so annoyed he can barely uphold a conversation? Well, that wasn't really a scenario you'd even considered at all...

You suppose you could just tell him the truth - maybe that would make him more accepting of your choice of date - but it's not as if you can really tell him that the only reason you're going on that date to begin with is to force yourself to get over, well, him.

You've known Bucky two years now and apart from small moments here and there, nothing's happened. It's been two excruciating years full of pining and painful almosts and ifs but he clearly doesn't look at you that way and you don't want to keep putting yourself through the heartbreak. You deserve to spend your friday nights with someone who actually sees you for what you are: beautiful, smart, desirable, a woman.

And as you stand looking at yourself in the mirror, you realise that you need this date to get Bucky out of your head. Fuck if he doesn't approve of the cute guy from the coffee shop. It's none of his business who you're going out with and if he wants to be annoyed about it, then so be it.

Yet you still cannot stand the thought of him sitting by himself all night. He hasn't seemed like himself all day and you know how he can spiral over the smallest of things.

Thus, you check for Sam in the kitchen, the gym, and in the spa area in the basement of the compound, but eventually find him in the common room on the third floor, completely hypnotised as he stares at the television screen in front of him, the playstation controller grabbed tightly in his hands.

You do a quick scan around the room to confirm that it's just the two of you before you approach him. "Wilson, have you seen Bucky today?"

"Bucky? Uh - no," Sam mumbles without moving his gaze away from the animated character who's running through an abandoned city. "I assume you've already tried the dark cave he calls his room?"

"I know where he is," you sigh and flop down on the sofa next to him, stretching your legs and putting your feet in his lap. "I was just hoping that maybe you'd talked to him."

He doesn't answer apart from a few incoherent noises you're sure are for the game and not for you, so you poke at the controller with your toes to get his attention. "Sam..."

"Hey! I'm trying to save humanity from a zombie apocalypse here. Keep your stinking feet away from me," he playfully flicks the underside of your foot without sparing you a glance. "I already told you I haven't seen your siamese twin all day."

"Yeah, but do you think you could... go check on him maybe?"

"I'm busy. You go check on him."

"Sam..."

At the sound of your soft-spoken words, Sam sends you a brief side-eye before he finally tosses the controller down on the sofa table with a loud sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you shake your head innocently. Is it really your fault that Bucky is too childish to accept the man you're going out with? No.

Sam runs his eyes over you and squints hard. "You guys are usually so dependent, you're practically joined at the hip. And now you want me to go talk to him even though you didn't do anything?"

"Look, he's being weird," you sigh, "- can you just check on him? Please? Maybe have a guy's night in with beer and that stupid zombie-game you're always playing or whatever?" you gesture to the television screen where the character from before stands panting, saying random stuff every few seconds. "I don't want him to be alone."

"First of all, The Last of Us is not stupid!" Sam raises his index finger at you, feigning an insulted huff. "Secondly; a guy's night in..? While you're doing exactly what if I may ask?" he arches an eyebrow, urging you to keep talking.

"I - uh - I have plans," you say quickly and try and look determined although you can feel your entire face heating up. "...a date of sorts."

The dead-panned look on Sam's face is quickly wiped off, instead replaced with an annoyingly broad smirk. "You have a what now?" he chuckles teasingly.

"You heard me," you roll your eyes.

"Oh I heard you loud and clear," he hoots, "you are going on a date!" he says, emphasising the last word with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't be a dick about it."

"My, oh my. We're finally gonna see what kind of man that can sweep the rug from underneath you."

"Okay, I'm leaving," you make a move to stand up, but Sam interrupts you by putting his palm to your shin.

"Come on, I'm just teasing," he laughs, "tell me about your date. Who's it with? - Not Bucky, I assume."

"Why would I go on a date with Buck?" you shrug nonchalantly although you can once again feel the heat radiating through your every feature. "It's the cute blonde from the coffee house down the street."

"Oooh, the guy who looks like a young Brad Pitt but with humour?"

"That's the one," you press down on your lips and avoid looking directly at Sam. God, this is embarrassing.

"He's a cutie!" Sam teases with a chuckle.

"I know," you play with a loose thread on your shirt, avoiding his eye.

"Then why aren't you more excited about it?" He asks but immediately emits a groan, "Jesus... do not tell me it's because of Bucky?!"

"I'm worried about him," you whine and bury your face in the sofa cushions.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're going on your first date in forever and you're worried about that sourpuss?"

"Sam, you didn't see the look on his face when I told him about it! He hates the guy - I think it really upset him."

"Of course it upset him," Sam scoffs, "It's like taking candy away from someone who really wants to fuck said candy!"

Your eyes snap over to Sam in an instance. Completely taken off guard, your voice dies in your throat. Did he just...? No, surely, you must've misheard.

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed," Sam groans, "I swear to god, he's two days away from crawling behind you just so he can lick the ground you're walking on!"

The earth has stopped spinning. "W-what?"

"The puppy eyes? The 'pick me' behaviour?" he rolls his eyes at your shocked face.

Your heart starts pounding so fast you can barely keep up. "Are we talking about... Bucky? As in our Bucky?"

"Uh, huh," Sam nods as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "That guy's practically begging you to take him by the hand and lead him to your bed. He's so in love with you, it's disgusting to look at."

"He's what?!" You exclaim loudly, completely out of breath. This is definitely news to you! "No, no, no! Bucky's not in love with me, we're friends," you pant with the blood rushing past your ears.

Sam shoots you an unimpressed side-eye, "yeah keep telling yourself that"

"What do you mean?" you pant, trying to puzzle together Sam's suspicion with your disbelief.

"I swear to god, the two of you don't even have a single brain cell put together..." he rolls his eyes, "I've seen that boy almost snap his neck because you were laughing and he wanted to know what you were laughing at. Trust me when I say that he's not annoyed that you're going on that date - he's jealous."

Well... fuck!

...

You don't think you've ever been this nervous as you pace the hallway outside Bucky's bedroom. You've been here ten minutes now, desperately trying to force yourself to actually make contact with him, but you're holding yourself back. There's so much on the line and what if Sam's incorrect? Then, you will truly have mucked up and everything between you and Bucky will be ruined.

Shit!

You stop pacing. You can hear his favourite album from the forties playing on the other side of the wall but apart from that, there hasn't been a single sound from in there.

You pray he's in a better mood than when you walked in on him angrily hunched over his bowl of cereal this morning, but the fact that he put on the only type of music that can calm him down, doesn't really scream 'put-together'.

It makes you even more nervous though you know you have to talk to him at some point. It's not as if you can avoid him forever - so before you can truly think about the upside of postponing the inevitable conversation, you raise your knuckles and carefully knock on his door.

Everything inside you tenses up. You vision becomes blurry, and you seem to automatically focus all your attention on the sounds coming from inside his room. There's a short shuffle, a sigh and then an irritated "what?!" muttered from somewhere behind the walls.

This is bound to go wrong.

You consider running away and pretend you've never even been near his room, but it's too late to back out now. You have to talk to him at some point, you remind yourself.

With your nerves running wild and the blood pumping through your every vein, artery, and fibre, you open the door a little and poke your head inside his room with a small "hi," your throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He's sitting on the bed with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hand buried inside a book that's lying closed in his lap. He looks angry at everything and everyone - as if he's minutes away from strangling someone - but when he finds your eyes from across the room, the tense muscles in his cheeks seem to unclench a little.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, licking his lips. "I thought you were Sam..."

You smile, so relieved to see him softening that you automatically step inside his room without waiting for him to ask you to. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You're not," he shakes his head with a small gulp, "I thought you'd left already. Don't you have that big date?" he asks in a weird voice and sends you a stiff smile.

"Not until seven," you shrug and sit down next to him on his bed, immediately noticing how he's started avoiding your gaze.

"Right," he nods and occupies himself by putting his book on his bedside table. "So - uh - still looking forward to it?"

How do you tell your best friend that no, you're not looking forward to it because he's the one you really want to go out with?

"I don't know," you shrug, suddenly so anxious your temples have started pounding, "not really."

He finally looks up at you again, his slate blue eyes jittery as they meticulously search your face. "What happened?" He asks with tightly knitted eyebrows, "you were so excited for it yesterday."

You hesitate. "...Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly," he sits up a little straighter, a serious look on his face, "- he didn't upset you, did he?" He says on impulse, his voice suddenly dark and dripping with venom at the mere thought as he reaches out for you and puts his fingers on your arm.

"No Buck," you shake your head and take a deep breath to get your pulse under control. "He didn't upset me."

"Then what?" He squeezes your arm softly, his eyes concerned as he tries to read you, "you can tell me anything."

"I know... It's just that..." you hesitate and consider ending your sentence with I'm in love with you, but the words die in your throat.

"What sweetheart?" he shuffles a little closer to you.

"Bucky," you heave a big breath of air to prepare your bold question that can potentially change everything between you dependant on his answer. "Do you not want me to go on that date?"

"What?" his eyes immediate travel over your face and you can almost hear his pulse running haywire as his fingers let go of your arm. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just..." your breathing picks up as you scan his every anxious feature. It makes you anxious too. "- you started acting weird the minute I told you about it. You've been avoiding me all day."

His fingers find your arm again, his grip a little tighter than before as he desperately looks at you. "No, no, no, sweetheart! That's not what happened," he licks his lips and plasters on the fake smile he's been practising in the mirror all day. "- I mean... I'm not the biggest fan of the guy but who you're dating is really none of my concern. I'm sure he's great, and as long as he treats you well, I'll make sure he stays on my good side," he says softy and sends you a smile that seems a little too genuine for your liking.

You hesitate again as you check his face for cracks, but his smile stays intact and happy. "...So you're really okay with it?" you ask in a small voice, mortified.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, of course I'm okay with it!" he slides his fingers down your arm, capturing your hand inside his fist. "I really just want you to be happy. That's what's important. And you deserve to be taken care of for once instead of being stuck here with me and Sam." He reassuringly squeezes your fingers tight, but it just feels as if he's in the process of letting you go.

Slowly, you can feel your heart breaking.

You knew it... You knew Sam was wrong. Bucky isn't in love with you. Never has been. Never will be. Things are exactly the way they've always been and you're left pining after a man who doesn't want you back.

God, you feel like a idiot for getting your hopes up like that.

"Good," you nod resolutely, fighting hard to not let the heartbreak slip through your well-feigned mask. "I'm happy to hear you feel that way."

"Of course I do," he smiles solemnly.

"I should probably go get ready then..."

"Yeah," Bucky nods and lets go of you. "It's almost six."

With a sigh you hope he doesn't hear, you stand up from his bed and brush down the front of your jeans, not really sure you even want to leave his room.

He's looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Have fun," he says while his hands grab the sheets underneath him, fisting the fabric. "- can't wait to hear all about it."

"Thanks, Buck," you feign a smile to match his, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, sweetheart..."

You turn around with a wave of your hand, but the smile on your face falters the minute you've turned on your heel.

You can hear his heavy breathing over the music playing in the corner, and when you reach out for the door handle, a delicate sound finally breaks the reticence between you.

"Don't go..."

At first, you're not sure if you're imagining it, but then you hear him shuffling behind you, and when you turn around and face him, he's on his feet. "Don't go on that date," he whimpers in defeat, "I'm begging you. Please... don't go."

"Bucky..."

"I'm in love with you," he says guiltily with a gulp.

Your heart stops.

"- and I can't pretend I'm okay with you going on dates when I'm not."

You're completely speechless. You want to comment on everything. Run to him and proclaim that you're his. That you've always been his. But you're nailed to the spot and all that manages to escape your lips is a tight whimper.

"- I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now..." he closes his eyes and looks as if he's in pain. "And I know I'm risking everything by telling you this," he gulps, "but I've been keeping it in for so fucking long, trying to protect our friendship. I just can't keep pretending I don't want... more. It's stupid, I know."

"Bucky, it's not stupid," you finally manage to croak and it's as if the force that've been gluing you to the spot finally lets go. "It's not," you whisper as you take a few long strides over to him, stopping right before your chests touch. "It's not stupid," you repeat and reach a hand upwards, caressing his bearded chin.

His eyes are glistening, and his breathing is coming in ragged as he searches your face. "Sweetheart," he gulps in confusion, "I don't... - what does this mean?"

"It means -" your hand reaches up so it can rake through his hair, coming to a halt on the back of his neck where you can feel the goosebumps travel through his entire body. "- that I'm in love with you too. Have been for quite some time. Since I met you, actually."

Now it's his turn to be glued to the spot.

His mouth falls a little open and you can tell by the look on his face that he's in the process of questioning everything, so you underline your confession by putting your forehead to his. "I want to be yours," you whisper and observe him closely.

At first, he tenses even harder, but then a small smile starts tugging on his lips as he finally relaxes in your arms and pulls you closer. "I want you to be mine, too," he declares sweetly as his heart blossoms in his chest. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

"It's you," he whispers against your skin, "- It's always been you."

"Kiss me," you beam and almost cannot stop smiling silly when you reach up for his mouth, finally claiming the softest, most pillowy lips you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.

[natailiatulls07]

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.

-

[riewritten]

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

[scumashling]

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.

[jupiter-letters]

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.

[cheeseceli]

Scared?

Pairing: Lee Know × Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, drabble, friends to ??

Request: would you be down to write some Lee Know fluff about reader being scared of cats but slowly overcoming her fears with Linos help?

Warnings: not proofread, Lee know is a softie

A/n: as someone who is scared of cats, I need this to happen to me irl lmao. I hope you like it!

Minho knew there was something wrong when he called you to pet this stray cat and you didn't even move. You just stood in the middle of the sidewalk while staring at the cat. There was a different glint in your eyes, something Minho couldn't quite identify yet.

"Y/n?"

You looked at him, still not moving an inch "you can pet it."

"You're not coming?" you just shook your head and fixed your gaze at the cat once more, which was laying down in the shadow. He looked so unbothered but you looked so tense "... Why?"

"I'm..." you lowered your voice, a bit embarrassed, a bit scared he'd tease you "afraid of cats."

For a whole minute no one said anything. You were still staring at the cat like it could attack you at any second and Minho was looking at you confused. It's true you never got to see his cats. He doesn't even know how the topic was never brought up before. He was obsessed with his cats and you'd always listen to him and watch the videos he filmed of them excitedly. You'd always send him reels and tiktoks about cats. He just assumed you'd love the animal in real life too, but apparently that was not the case.

You averted your eyes from the cat when you saw your friend stretch his hand towards you, motioning for you to hold it.

"I'm not coming any closer to this cat, Min."

"Trust me."

You could hear in his voice that he had no intention of teasing or scaring you. You couldn't help but drift closer to him and, hesitantly, hold his hand. It wasn't often that you'd have this sort of physical contact into your friendship, but it felt so right for a moment. You wished you could see his reaction to the touch, but he was looking forward, leading you both to the cat and leaning down to pet it. You don't know if it was on purpose, but you were glad he put himself in between the cat and you, as if he was your protection.

With his free hand, he started to caress the stray animal. It still looked unperturbed, like it paid no mind to what was happening. Minho looked at you with a little smile:

"See? It's okay."

Your breathing was still unsteady and your shoulders were still stiff. However, you were slowly getting comfortable with the idea of the cat not causing you any harm. Once Minho saw that your eyes weren't as scared as they once were, he called you: "do you want to caress it?"

And just like that the panic returned to your features.

You were going to distance yourself from both of them out of reflex, but you stopped when you felt Minho's hand on yours, kindly remembering you that everything was okay.

"I don't think this is a good idea" you replied with nothing but a whisper.

"You can put your hand over mine if you'd like."

You were hesitant to do it, even so you gave in when you saw his eyes. When it came to him, you knew his eyes could tell way more than his words. He was trying to convey the safety he was willing to give to you. You breathed deeply before coming closer to him. It's alright.

Minho tried, unsuccessfully, to contain his smile as he brought your hand over his and then placed it in the cat's fur.

It felt weird. You were the one who was facing your fear yet he was the one feeling all the conflicting emotions. He was proud of you. He was nervous because of the proximity. He was questioning his behaviour. It was in fact weird.

"I'm gonna remove my hand now, okay?"

Your breath hitched for a second. You really didn't want to be alone with the cat. As if he could read your mind, he gently whispered: "I'm still here. I'm not leaving."

With that last reassurance you nodded your head, already preparing yourself for the worst outcome possible. What would hurt the most, its claws or its fangs?

Surprisingly, nothing happened. The cat's pelage was soft. It didn't even move, just purred, like you had its approval. You allowed yourself to smile a bit, moving your hand up and down softly as to not startle the animal. Minho chuckled by your side, content with the results.

You were almost getting truly comfortable when the cat got bored of staying still for so long and decided to get up with no previous warning. The movement scared you, who retreated immediately with a gulp.

You were sure you were going to fall into the pavement and probably die of embarrassment until you felt Minho's hand in your back, holding you safely. That was until he lost his balance and fell, taking you both down.

He looked at you with worried eyes. He didn't think the cat would've moved so soon. He shouldn't have backed down. Now you were probably with some scratches, even more scared of the pet and... Laughing.

You were laughing. Like, a lot. Your cheeks were wet from the tears that were spilling and you were holding your tummy like it hurt from laughing so much. Needless to say that Minho was confused. "Are you... Okay?"

"Yeah" you replied, accompanied by a hiccup "yeah, I'm good. The cat didn't even bother to stay."

He followed your gaze to the other side of the street, where the cat was heading to now. He chuckled slightly, still worried about you. But you seemed okay, now drying your face with your sleeves.

"So, still scared of cats?"

"A bit. They don't seem like they will immediately kill me now, at least."

Minho openly laughed this time. He managed to get up and stretched his hand for you to grab it.

"C'mon. Now you can meet Dori, Soonie and Doongie."

Reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[void-wolfie]

Seventy-Two

summary: a little arguing and some bad memories push you into a panic attack, good thing Tara's there to help you through it.

pairing: Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader

words: 1.3k

tw: some angst, some fluff... mentions of abuse, (very brief) mentions of drugs/alcohol, descriptions of panic/anxiety attacks

a/n: apparently I'm back on my angst train lol. I'm not a professional so apologies if this isn't completely accurate. Briefly based this on my own experiences and some light research.

*if anything here may be a trigger for you, please don't read

You set your motorcycle helmet in your locker, grabbing out the few textbooks you'd need for the day and slamming the locker door shut.

"Where've you been?"

You jumped a little, not having expected the shorter girl to be on the other side of the locker door.

"Hi, Tara. Good morning to you too. Oh, I'm fine thanks for asking," You snarked, disregarding the girl and heading towards your first class.

She sighed, you two played this little game too often. Out in public, it was sideways glances and off-the-cuff remarks. She only ever got to see the real you when you were alone.

Right now, there were eyes everywhere; students and teachers alike all crowding the halls, trying to get to classes. She wouldn't get anything out of you here.

She grabbed you by the arm and yanked you into an empty classroom, making sure to shut the door behind you.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're tenacious." You smirked, looking around the empty classroom in boredom. Turning back around, you noticed the less-than-enthused look on her face.

"Anyone ever tell you, you're annoying."

"Actually you, every time we talk,"

You didn't take the jab to heart; she was just worried and stressed.

"Where've you been?" she asked again, her calm demeanor slipping away.

"Awe, do you actually care for me, princess?"

She huffed, rubbing her eyes with her fingers, something she often did when annoyed. Her patience was running thin, and classes hadn't even started yet.

"I've been trying to text you. Wes told me your dad had to bail you out for drug charges, then you go M.I.A. for two weeks and come back looking like you had the shit beat out of you."

"Yeah, well what else did Wes tell ya?"

You didn't exactly like Wes. He wasn't terrible but his nose was always stuck in someone else's business, which irritated the living hell out of you.

That, plus the fact you couldn't help but be jealous over their relationship. You know you shouldn't be, after all, they're just friends. But nothing ticked you off quite like Wes following Tara around like a lost puppy dog for everyone to see, while your relationship with the girl only existed behind closed doors.

"He told me your dad looked mad, like seriously pissed off." She took a few steps closer, getting into your personal space, not that you minded. You flinched slightly as her hands cupped your face, her thumb lightly tracing your black eye. "Did he do this to you, your dad?"

Despite the voice in your head screaming to finally admit it, to tell the whole world about the shit he puts you through, you just couldn't do it. You shook your head no, quickly wiping at the tears that threatened to fall.

You pulled yourself away from her, stepping further into the classroom to try and get some space.

"Then who did?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Have you looked in a mirror, you look like shit. Of course, it matters."

"Just leave it alone, Tara."

She wouldn't understand, you barely even did yourself. You just couldn't turn him in.

The man may be an abusive asshole and borderline alcoholic, but he's still your dad. For every terrible memory, there was a good one.

Sure, he'd beaten you to a pulp, hit you countless times before, and who even knows how much therapy you'd need one day. But he'd also bought you your first motorcycle, taught you how to do oil changes and engine repairs, he helped you prepare for softball tournaments and school projects.

It was all just so conflicting.

"y/n?"

You were so lost in your thoughts you barely noticed the tightness in your chest or the way your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms, almost drawing blood. You were lost in your memories trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

You were completely overwhelmed. Your entire world was crumbling down around you. It felt like you were drowning with no end in sight.

You yanked your backpack off, then your jacket, gripping the desk in front of you as you tried to figure out how to breathe again.

"y/n?"

She'd never seen you like this before. You were always so strong, so guarded. And yet here you were, looking the most vulnerable she'd ever seen you.

"I- I can’t-" you stumbled over your words, not sure how to form anything coherent with the dizziness in your head and tightness in your chest.

You sat down on the floor, leaning your back against the teacher’s desk as the world spun in front of you.

Tara recognized that look, she'd seen it in Sam countless times before. You were having a panic attack.

"Shit."

She dropped her bag, getting down on the ground next to you, careful not to crowd you in case it only made it worse.

"Hey, you’re good at math, right?"

You looked at her a bit puzzled but nodded nonetheless. What the fuck does math have to do with anything right now?

"Ok, what's six plus four?"

"T-Ten." You wheezed out an answer, still focusing on trying to get your breathing under control.

"Good, now what's nine times three?"

She could tell you were still overwhelmed, not really focused on her at the moment. Your eyes seemed dazed as they darted around the room.

"Hey," She grabbed your hand gently, interlacing your fingers, "focus on me, ok?"

That seemed to work, grabbing your attention, "What's nine times three?"

"...Twenty-seven,"

She was doing her best to stay calm, even if the sight of you hurting was killing her inside. But she'd done this before, she knew what she was doing... well, mostly.

The research she'd done over the years rang out in her head. Stay calm, get them to slow their breathing. Make your own breathing relaxed, keep it slow and even-paced, and theirs will follow suit... Get them to focus on something else for the time being... If things get worse, call for help...

"Good, and what about seven times eight?"

"...Fifty-six,"

"Five times eleven?"

"Fifty-five,"

Now she had your attention. You didn't notice but your breathing had started slowing down and your fists weren't clenched as tight. You were starting to relax a bit.

"Ok, what about forty-five divided by three?"

"Fifteen."

"And sixty divided by five?"

"Twelve,"

"Good," you were finally calm again, mostly anyways, "want me to keep going?"

You were exhausted, you felt a little better, not great, but better. Your head didn't feel like it was going to explode anymore, and your heart wasn't beating out of your chest.

You shook your head no, not wanting to do any more math. You patted the spot next to you, which Tara happily filled, glad to see you weren't hyperventilating anymore.

You closed your eyes and rested your head on her shoulder.

"So, am I officially smarter than a fifth grader?"

She rolled her eyes, not that you could see that, too busy cuddling into her side, "not a chance,"

"Your just jealous I'm better at my times tables than you are,"

She didn't have to look down at you to know you were smirking. But she did anyway, finding it adorable with the way your eyes were still closed and you were leaning into her.

It was almost comical, she thought, looking down at you. The big scary drug dealer with a fuck-around-and-find-out attitude and a deadly glare cuddling into the popular girl who has the personality (and height) of a teddy bear. If anyone else at school saw this, they probably would've thought they were hallucinating.

She scoffed, "that's so not true."

"What's nine times eight?"

There was a moment of silence, in which you couldn't help but smile a little brighter.

"I hate you."

"Seventy-two."

[namelessprayers]

"if you were truly sorry, then you wouldn't have to convince me of it, would you?" confronted till with his fists balled at his sides the first instance that the world allowed it to occur.

he had been lingering on ivan's noncommittal excuse of an apology for the last week and it had effectively simmered in a couple more layers of indignation for the worse. in till's mind, ivan owed him at least a proper explanation and perhaps a few favors along with it.

"say something, idiot, don't just look past me when i'm right in front of you." continued till, having noticed the bordering blankness that seemed to dawn on ivan's face as he receded into deep thought.

"i'm sorry." eventually responded ivan. then after a terse pause that must've shown blatant distaste on till's face, he decided to tack on an extra mutter with a slight bow of his head. "i mean it."

being prepared to fight over forgive, till settled in between for forgetting and promptly storming off seething in 'whatever' hissed through his teeth. next time, till swore to either give up on ivan for good or punch him square in the jaw.

both would be cathartic enough to partially satiate till's conflicting feelings about ivan for maybe a month.

======

till met ivan by complete coincidence and still indeterminably fateful chance. it was absolutely nothing to do with the fact that till hadn't had any real friends since the second grade or that he was notably but tolerably lonely wandering by himself after school finished.

it was an odd day, mostly due to till's succession of questionably unsound decisions to not go home immediately and to instead loiter behind private property. he didn't trespass, or he didn't used to, because it risked his mother finding out a few key things about a) his lack of friends and b) his general restlessness in life.

he had scoped out the area before sitting down on the ledge of a lowered billboard which had an advertisement half ripped off its cover. dangling his legs so his feet swung over the grass, till did the only thing he really could do and filled his page with whatever came to mind. it was the best kind of wandering; the least lonely kind.

when till was done, the sun had significantly eased downwards, glare still in full force but from a much different angle than during midday.

distinctly, he could recall near instantly packing up and booking it home as soon as he heard the sound of other people close by; but through some inexplicable intuition, till ended up trailing the outskirts of the wire fence until the group of others came into view.

the boys in question were idiots, no doubt. he could hear it in their tones, jeering and taunting, always so devoid of any real purpose or valuable emotion. till wasn't going to insert himself needlessly into their antics, probably among the likes of trespassing and other things his mother wouldn't approve of.

like proof of the point that till should've turned back, he figured out what the boys were doing in particular, which was beating someone up. probably not the first time they'd done it, nor would it be the last, and yet, till had been compelled to venture closer as if the angle of viewing might change something about the situation.

till waited for at least ten minutes before they got bored and left, revealing that it was his never attending desk mate who got the brunt of the group's past time activities.

with an odd conviction, till scaled the wire fence, tossing his bag over and following within a short span of thirty seconds. after landing on his feet, he stared at ivan from a distance who was just sitting there hunched against the wall in a pitiful bid at disappearing.

on noticing him, till swore that ivan's eyes flashed red, but it was gone too quick for him to know.

it dawned on till that this was entirely unprecedented and completely unnecessary for him to do. in something of a panic that someone might catch him trespassing on this one rare occasion, till efficiently backtracked all the way over the fence, pausing for a brief moment of hesitation before his phone buzzed its discontent at the late hour it was and he urged himself to carry on.

till made it home at the same time he usually did, evading any of his mother's suspicion, but now stuck with the image of ivan expectantly waiting for a person who'd never come.

======

"school's not so bad. it's boring, but it's not bad." said till, sensing that his intent wasn't getting through to ivan who still didn't show up to school and only furrowed his brows at the words. "you've only attended for a single day, how do you even know it's so bad?"

they sat on the curb of a dead end street that no one ever drove down as usual. neither of them had brought up their first official meeting as not much had changed since then besides their increased communication and penchant for holding proper conversations that weren't just glaring; also the fact that till could now spot ivan walking across the street or resting on the playground like a moth to a flame.

"i just do know." replied ivan, assured and unbothered as typical. it was the kind of attitude that ticked till off depending on the person. ivan was lucky that till was starting to form a soft spot for him. "plus, you're not really selling it to me. boring is still bad, in a way."

"maybe it won't be boring. i sit next to you, you know? that can't be boring, can it?" mumbled back till, trying not to sound desperate for ivan to stay around him more often, because that definitely wasn't what this was.

"you're already sitting next to me." tiredly returned ivan, examining the spot where till kicked his feet along the gravel road as though it was some incredible revelation that they were currently here.

"and is it boring?" asked till, attempting to be flippant but ultimately bleeding through with an earnest sincerity that grated on his own ears as he cycled back through their chatting.

"no." ivan said stiffly. when he turned to look at till, it seemed like the sun glinted red in his eyes. "my whole life is boring, except for you."

[rootspiral]

I've been coming up with headcanons for mama and papa Kaplan all day, I really do love them?? I thought about adding some of them to my deep dives but it'd get too cluttered, so I'm just going to dump some stuff here real quick.

I'm not sure yet how much of Billy is William, I know there are some similarities between the two BUT my personal headcanon (or rather, the most entertaining option) is that William never gave any hint of being gay, so when Billy came out it was kind of out of the blue and the Kaplans full on PANICKED. Here's their precious beloved boy opening up and trusting them with something so important and they're not prEPARED!!

And Jeff would be trying to remember what's the nearest place that sells rainbow flags, and just how many flags can you put in your house until it's too many?? And Rebecca would be making a mental list of all the books and articles she needs to read so she can be up to speed and help Billy any way she can. And both would panic even more trying to remember if they EVER accidentally said anything homophobic in front of Billy - they didn't because they're good fucking people, but you never know!! Here's a big chance to do some good parenting and they're SCRAMBLING for it. They do a very heartfelt 'we're so proud of you' speech but Billy can read their minds and it's a bit overwhelming.

A few days later Billy asks Rebecca if he can borrow her eyeliner because he's been wanting to experiment, and Jeff puts his foot DOWN and goes, no SON OF MINE is going to use secondhand eyeliner, go get your shoes we're going to Sephora. (Except he can't drive so Rebecca has to take them.)

And when they finally meet Eddie they invite him over for dinner and Jeff has prepared a three course meal and he's literally saying, I'm so sorry I didn't have time to make anything too elaborate, I hope you like foie gras???

Yes I know these are so silly, I guess I'm projecting a bit, I kind of wish I had that sort of parents. Creating my own Hex sitcom, you know? But speaking more seriously, the Kaplans would have had their internal struggles and some readjusting to do, it is hard for a parent to realize your kid is going to have a different future than what you were envisioning, also that they're most likely going to be discriminated for their gender and/or orientation. Rebecca and Jeff would have struggled and felt anxiety and they wouldn't have shown any of it to Billy. And Billy would have known anyway, such an interesting dynamic.

[gloomysoup]

keeping the christmas magic

@steddiebingo christmas prompt: santa

rating: Teen+ | word count: 920 | tags: omegaverse, good uncle wayne munson | ao3

another edition to the home is where you are universe :)

“Daddy, is Santa real?”

Eddie’s head shot up from the budget book he’d had open in front of him on the coffee table. That was the last question he expected to come out of his four-year-old’s mouth.

“What d’you mean, love bug?” he asked slowly.

Violet shrugged her little shoulders. “Is Santa real, or is he pretend? Because Patrick at school says he’s pretend, and it's just daddies putting presents under the tree. And he said Emily was a baby because she told him Santa was real.”

Eddie took a breath as he nodded along to what his daughter was saying. “Okay… and what do you think, Vi?”

Again, Violet shrugged. “That's why I asked.”

“Mhmm.”

Fuck.

What was he supposed to say? Violet was only four, for fuck’s sake. Eddie thought for sure they had at least two more years before this came up, and he thought it would be Addie questioning everything first. He didn't expect it from Violet; not yet at least.

Just then, Steve came in with little James on his hip. Eddie’s savior, really. He always did stand by the opinion that two minds were better than one, especially when it came to their kids. Even more so when it was Steve’s mind.

“Stevie, baby!” he greeted. “Come help me and Vi for a minute?”

Steve frowned, but he sat down beside Eddie on the couch. He moved James to his lap. “What's up?”

“Is Santa real?” Violet asked again, her face the picture of innocence.

Steve's eyes widened as he looked at Eddie with undertones of panic.

“Patrick at school says Santa isn't real,” Eddie added. “Now Violet wants to know if Patrick is right.”

“Oh. Patrick. I see.” Steve cleared his throat. “Um… well, Vi, uh….”

Violet sat so patiently, staring at Steve and Eddie while waiting for their answer. Meanwhile, her parents were having a very intense silent conversation with their eyes. No one had prepared them for this.

“Why don't we call and ask Poppy?” Eddie suggested. “He knows lots of stuff. I bet he’ll have a good answer for you.”

“Good idea,” Steve agreed quickly, reaching for the phone on the table and taking the receiver off the cradle. He dialed the number quickly, having memorized it ages ago. It rang for a moment before Wayne’s voice came through.

“Yello?”

“Wayne! It's Steve. Um… I'm here with Eddie and Violet, and Violet has a pretty important question. We thought Poppy would have a good answer for her.”

“Okay… What's the question?”

Violet scrambled over Eddie to stick her face next to the speaker. “Poppy, is Santa real?” she asked, voice raised to make sure Wayne heard her.

“Oh. That is… quite the question.” Wayne cleared his throat a little, followed by a short cough. “You and Ed havin’ trouble answerin’ that one, Steve?”

“Maybe….”

Wayne chuckled. “Just tell her Santa runs on the magic o’ believin’. If no one believes in 'im, his sleigh can't get here from the North Pole. Worked with Ed ‘til he was old enough to figure out all that was a load o’ horse shit.”

Steve sighed in relief. “Thanks, Wayne. You're a lifesaver.”

Wayne laughed. “No problem, son. Good luck, and give the pups some love for me. I’ll see y'all for Christmas in a few days. Love y’all.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there. Love you too. ‘Bye.” Steve hung up the phone and pulled Violet into his side. He pressed a kiss to the top of her curly hair. “Poppy says that Santa runs on the magic of believing,” he said softly. “As long as we believe in him, his sleigh can get here from the North Pole. But if everyone stops believing in him, he can't make it all this way.”

Violet sat silently for a moment, taking it in. Then she nodded resolutely and got off the couch. “Okay,” she said before taking off for the room she shared with her sister.

Eddie blinked after her. “That was easy….”

“Yeah….” Steve huffed a laugh and looked at James, who was happily sucking on his paci. “What on earth are we gonna do with your sister?”

“Thank God for Wayne Munson, huh?”

“Ain't that the truth.”

Eddie looked at Steve. “You know it's only a matter of time before the girls outgrow Santa, don't you?”

Steve sighed. “Yeah. I'm not looking forward to it, though.”

“Me either.”

Steve reached over and grabbed Eddie’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I guess we’ll just have to take it in stride, just like we always do.”

Eddie nodded. Then he cracked a small grin. “Maybe… we just need more pups to keep the magic going.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing Steve to burst out laughing.

“You are insatiable, Eddie Munson.”

He merely shrugged, still smiling. “You know you love me.”

“Of course I do,” Steve replied with an eye roll. “Doesn't mean you always make it easy on me.”

Eddie shot back against the couch dramatically, hands over his heart. “Oh! How you wound me, my love!”

Just then, the girls came running into the living room. They took their opportunity, launching onto the couch. They landed on top of Eddie, forcing a soft oomph out of him before the pups dissolved into giggles that made his heart so happy. Eddie hugged his girls as Steve laughed, never tiring of the sound of their laughter in his ears.

He loved his little life, despite the curveballs his pups liked to throw at them.