Just got shouted at in front of an entire gym because the front desk person is a rude fucking assjole. FUCK

Im not sure how to request cause this is like my first time doing it but would u write anything w iwazumis timeskip? like how hes an athletic trainer.. YK DO UR MAGIC idek how to request also x reader if thats ok. THANK U

Hey ofc!! You can be as vulgar and straightforward as you want, this is a safe space😘 (idk if you wanted nsfw or not so if not I’m sorry! I just made it suggestive because I was unsure :P)

The ass crack of dawn peeks through your window, enough to have your body twisting and turning until you’re inevitably forced awake.

Of course you drag yourself to the bathroom and check yourself out a bit, admiring how your new waist training is going and your puffy lips of the morning before brushing your teeth to start the day. Some argue you’re a morning person, but you aren’t. And you feel no kind of guilt admitting that.

You only get up because you have to—to remain consistent, especially with allowing yourself to grow not only physically, but emotionally, finally feeling free from the weights of stress by exercising and feeling good about your figure.

Also, the routine is great for you. It makes you feel productive in the morning, so now when you reflect before, there was this emptiness that came with sitting at home with the same three things you have to do on repeat.

And then of course, the motivation of going to the gym for a man you’ve been seeing around recently. He recognizes you now, probably casually assuming the relationship is nothing more than a mutual gym buddy.

And it’s likewise; you wouldn’t call it a crush. The both of you are grown, just two adults with the same hobby even though you are relatively newer to the activity.

So you pack up your bag and tip your head back for a swig of the protein smoothie you prepared and head out the door.

The gym doesn’t smell anything like how you imagined it would when you first cluelessly walked in. It actually smells clean (mainly from the overwhelming scent of chlorine in the pool water), and it wasn’t super busy around this time. If there were people, they definitely weren’t teenagers coming for their afternoon rounds. The receptionist waves back at you as you pass.

Today was legs. You recognize how far you’ve come, because initially, no day was your favorite, each as long and tortuous as the last. But this has got to be what it means to become accustomed to the pain. Does that make all gym-goers masochists?

If so, Iwaizumi has got to be the worst, because the only other person insane enough— that even remotely looks like he does anything other than train— to be here before you, is him.

“Morning,” you chime. His headphones are off, so the switch that usually tells you when people don’t wish to be spoken to doesn’t go off.

To your delight, he responds with just as much pleasure without turning around, currently sitting on the Lax machine and tugging the resistant handles. “Good morning,” he grunts.

He eventually does, even as he attempts to convince himself to stay focused on his set, but even the discipline he’s built over the years couldn’t prevent him from catching a glimpse of you. You were sitting your stuff down nearby, relocating to the floor to stretch.

He’s been watching you. Not in a creepy way, he justifies, but it becomes a habit when you’re working how he does.

Your progress is a miracle. He could count on one hand the amount of people that come in fresh and immediately get to working, just to return consistently, and cycle through this process until they reach their desired figure and continue after that. You, however, stepped in with a determination on your face he’d never seen before.

You hadn’t requested a trainer, and by what he sees, didn’t need one either. He remembers when you came in talking about how badly you wanted to rid of your little tummy, as well as slim down your plush thighs, pleading someone to teach you how. Of course he knew how; he keeps his work strictly professional with the women who came in asking for the same thing.

He’d always found the little pudge attractive, but it’s your body. It’s just somehow, he wasn’t on the verge of telling them how good it looks or the pure desire he has to press on the fat while his head is between their thighs like he was you. Someone must have heard his prayers though, because instead of slimming your legs down, you became comfortable with the idea of them getting stronger, ultimately making them slightly thicker.

The man was close to finishing the set but that one glimpse of you had him do five extra for good measure since he lost count. How could he focus?

As you split your legs and tilt to one side, you watch the man not too far. The black compression shirt he wears hugs his carved body perfectly, only cementing this fact as his back and arm muscles flex with every controlled pull of the bar. Everything about him was sharp from his shape to the hair on his head.

It was no doubt he was attractive, and since having graduated, attention wasn’t just found anywhere. Maybe some small talk will help?

“What are you doing today?” He hears you call. He almost flinches with what he thinks you’re asking until you add, “Workouts I mean.”

Iwaizumi chuckles at your mishap, more for himself, but it flushes your cheeks nonetheless. It’s a genuine, gentle sound. “Arms. Tomorrow is core,” he says coolly.

“I hate arms. I should probably do them more often, but lifting is only fun if you’re already strong.”

“I see where you’re coming from,” he pulls off the machine, rotating himself on the seat to face you. You’re in a lunge now, oversized t-shirt covering half of the skin tight shorts desperately trying to contain the glutes you’ve grown. He makes sure to force his emerald green eyes to yours. “You won’t get stronger if you don’t give it a try.”

You scoff, “You sound like my old therapist.”

The humor you two shared was nothing more than the surface level awkward kind so this unexpected comment from you had him laughing. Actually laughing. “And you sound like an old friend of mine.”

Smiling at this, you get one more good stretch in and come to your feet. You stand proudly with your hands on your hips, staring at him.

He blinks around happily, “What?”

“You said to give it a try right? Show me the way."

—•—

“I can’t do this,” you say, already struggling just with the form part of the exercise. You switched positions with him since it was closest machine. “How do I pull it if I can’t move my back?”

“Well, that’s the workout part,” he walks around the seat while inspecting you, waiting for you to figure it out with his advice. “Sit up completely straight and slightly lean back. Stay in that position the entire time, but try to pull the bar down to you instead of pulling yourself up to it.”

You try to replicate what you saw him doing. By this point, you had gotten majority of the positioning right, even keeping your back straight, but the damned bar wouldn’t move an inch. “Are you sure the setting on this thing is right?”

“Oh shit-” He pauses at this, then renders that you’re completely right. You’re trying to pull his weight.

As he shuffles over to the side of the machine to adjust it, you watch him with a smug expression and your arms crossed. I’m not just that weak, I knew it, it reads.

Moments later he comes back around, “That’s my bad, try it now.”

And you’re finally able to do it, but your form falters when you successfully pull the bar to your chest. He knows you know, you’re a smart girl, so he gives you a few more tries to correct it. “I feel like I’m about to fall,” you say finally.

“Here, that means you’re leaning too far.” He comes and presses a hand to your back, pushing you forward. “Don’t think about it too much. I’ll hold you right here for a few until you can support yourself.”

He was already hovering beside you, lurking and seeping into all your senses, making the air warmer than it usually is in the gym. With his palm on your back too, you’re starting to think this little affection of yours is getting out of hand. You don’t even look to see how much it has helped.

Somehow, you do eventually get through the sets, but you hadn’t realized that during that time he would actually train you. It was progressive overload, and he brought the weight up to what he thought you could handle each time. You were on the last few.

“C’mon, you got it.”

“I don’t,” you grunt while somewhat laughing, still pulling it to your chest. His voice is more declarative now. You deem it as his professional tone. You also wonder which voice he tends to use in—

“You do. It’s one more—make it your best.”

“Ready for the next?” His lips stretch into a smile, already predicting your answer.

And you do just that, slumping on the seat in victory.

“Good girl,” he praises, clapping, and he changes the weight on the machine to just five before twisting around and holding a hand out. He helps you up when you take it, but you’re really trying to figure out if what he said was professional if it made you clench your thighs.

You bend and get your smoothie, popping the top and drinking, “There’s a next? What’s next?”

“Pull ups of course.”

Truthfully, doing pull ups right after lax for someone who doesn’t really train arms is a death wish. It’s just this once though and your arms will already be sore so he might as well make the most of it while the adrenaline is there.

“Oh dear God,” you sigh.

“I’ll do them with you,” he reassures.

—•—

And he stands on his word, because after walking over to the bar, he clips the belt attached to weight around his hips. The bar was relatively high, even he can admit, so he isn’t surprised when you ask how the hell you’re supposed to get up there.

And you weren’t even necessarily short, it’s just the bar was made for 6’0 and over men, and athletes, so people like you were left out, hence the stacked boxes meant for help beside it.

Iwaizumi makes sure the belt is secure around himself before walking over to you, taking a stance directly behind.

He commands, “Arms up, sweetheart.” And it must be the proximity, because you do just that without a fight. The pet name contributed too.

But when he lifts you, he first drags his hands from your shoulder blades, to your ribs, and into the small of the your back. So smooth you’re questioning if he did it on purpose.

He couldn’t help it. Not when he’s hovering behind you, almost a foot taller. With one small nudge of his hips forward, he’d rest comfortably right between your ass, smelling the coconut shampoo of your hair. Though instead of being a pervert, he’d stick to the nicknames and the gentle touches until you get the damn hint.

Sometime later he’s effortlessly hauling himself up, counting one by one with you. He says you’ll only do 3 sets of ten. Either way it was burning by the ninth.

—•—

Finally you’re done. The only reason your arms aren’t completely limp is the adrenaline of just being around the attractive man next to you. He literally regulates your blood flow.

And you regulate his.

“Okay, now you have to do my workouts.”

He unclips the belt, turning to face you, amused. “I have to do your workouts?”

Your arms come to a cross offensively. “What does that mean? Yes. I did your arm day, now you have to do my leg day.”

He throws his hands in the air defensively, the curl of his lips threatening to break his character, “I’m just saying it won’t be the sa—”

“This way!”

—•—

This was a horrible idea.

He’s situated on the angled leg press machine at a diagonal, now gripping onto the handle bars. The amount of circular plates you usually have on it are already there. You’re standing beside him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to add weight? I usually go more than this,” he challenges.

“Fuck you— no.”

His laughter intensifies at your irritation. Then he brings his legs down slow and controlled, somehow still managing to appear like he could do it with his fucking finger if he tried. You’re not surprised, he’s extremely fit; though you had already catered to this by going whatever your highest weight was.

He guffaws again at your blank expression. “Fine. How much more do you need?”

He appears to think for a moment. Instead of calculating the math like he should be, he’s actually doing nothing of the sort. “Get up there.”

He bends his legs as if confirming he’s dead serious by allowing you to actually step foot on the back of the plate. You stand there still, having not even realized what he’s asking you to do. “What?”

“Get your sweet ass up there and that should be about what my usual weight is.” He shoots a nonchalant glance to the machine. “You won’t fall, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

After a few moments, with an incredulous look painted on your face, you slowly step to the lowered machine, and push yourself up and on to the back, past the weighted plates, to sit not-very-comfortably in the middle. “Uhm…”

“Perfect.”

This time, it didn’t look as easy, but he very much did an entire press to extend his legs out. You watch in wonder over the plate as he carried your weight and plus some just in his legs.

It was his arm day, and you didn’t get to fully watch him do the pull ups since the focus was keeping yourself on the bar. But you got a glimpse when he finished, biceps flexing and pulling extra weight then too. He was strong. You wonder if he puts it to use with his partner?

With his partner. What if he does have a partner? You shake your head, no, he wouldn’t have asked you to do what you’re doing if he did.

His grunts were a nice addition too.

Counting for him aloud, and not completely sure if you didn’t skip a number even though you’re only going to ten, you helped him through the set. It had been a while since there was someone to cheer him on. He was always doing the cheering.

“Okay okay,” you wait for him to finish the set, then get off. It feels so good to have your feet on the ground, sure that you won’t be yelled at by the gym staff to remove yourself from the equipment. “You’ve proved yourself, muscleman.”

“Great, I’ll take you out Saturday then?” He asks, pressing up the remaining weight easy and locking up the machine so he can leave it.

A flush runs across your cheeks, driving you to pick up your drink and sip to hide it. “You don’t know me. What if I have a husband and kids at home?”

You were projecting, you know that. It was fresh on your mind since you slightly wanted to ask him the same question. He stalks over to you.

“I don’t see a ring on your finger,” he observes, nodding to your right hand, making you look as if you didn’t know it was bare. He only stops walking until you’re face to face, way too close to just be a professional interaction. It only worsens when his thumb and index finger pinches your chin, his eyes sending flames through yours. “And let’s both be honest— if there was someone waiting for you at home, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

Let alone at the gym at all, he wanted to add. Whatever pussy was letting you come here to workout instead of telling you how good it feels to have your thick thighs ricocheting off his skin or how good your stretch marks look after being swollen with a child for nine months, doesn’t deserve you anyway.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he swipes your lips with his finger and retreats. The heat doesn’t dissipate.

“Saturday at 7?” You speak softly. So softly and breathless you aren’t even sure if he heard it as he walks away.

“My number’s in your bag, beautiful,” he winks, and then he’s turning the corner, back to where you met earlier in the morning.

smash

If you wanted like actual nsfw, (whoever sent the ask) just send in another into my inbox or just dm me asking!! LMAO

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Ghostin' (Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader): Chapter 4

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Summary: You accidentally overhear something you're not supposed to. Will it lead to you and Steve finally getting together?

Warnings: language, S4 is canon, pregnancy, body insecurities, body insecurities

WC: 3.6k

Taglist: @kaybee87 @sidthedollface2 @chelebelletx @livsters @atombombbibunny @tattooedkiss13 @manda-panda-monium @charming-winchester @corroded-hellfire @trashmouth-richie @sweet-villain @slightlyvicked @hxllfired @yogizzz @tlclick73 @thefreakofhawkins86 @sheisjoeschateau @harrypotteranna23-blog @harringr0ve @josie955 @luna-munson83 @blhemmings

Divider credits to @firefly-graphics

It’s been nearly a month since Vecna’s attack on Steve. Dustin has made tape after tape of Black Dog, which Steve listens to every night while he sleeps. He keeps the cassettes and the player on him at all times during the day, just in case Vecna’s powers strengthen enough to reach him while he’s awake. So far, the music seems to keep the monster at bay. 

“How are you not sick of that song yet?” you ask him over a plate of greasy fries from Benny’s. Your doctor said you should be eating a healthy diet, and you are, for the most part. But something about those deep fried potatoes was too enticing that day, and you didn’t have the energy to fight the craving. 

Steve just shrugs. “To be fair, most of the listening happens while I’m asleep.” He plucks a fry from the chipped dish and munches casually, like you’re discussing last night’s football game instead of a telekinetic murderer. “Besides, I told you—it reminds me of the time in the car when you were happy. First time I saw you smile like that since, y’know.” He doesn’t need to elaborate, and you nod in response. 

Steve insists on coming with you to your 20-week appointment, even though your mom is able to attend this one. The two of them sit off to the side as the technician performs the routine ultrasound. No one mistakes Steve for your partner this time, and you find yourself bummed out at this. Maybe it’s because you’ve lost your partner—your child’s father—but a part of you knows the truth. 

You have feelings for Steve Harrington. You want to wake up to his bleary-eyed smile every morning. You want to hold his hand, feeling his palm press against yours in a silent promise to keep each other safe. You want to run your fingers through his hair as you pull him in for a passionate kiss. You want him to touch you in places you haven’t been touched since…

Fuck. 

The doctor reports that everything looks good, that your baby seems to be healthy and growing normally. The three of you breathe sighs of relief practically in unison as you thank him, and you wipe off the remaining gel residue on your lower abdomen before readjusting your shorts. None of your bottoms with buttons fit anymore, so you’ve resorted to only wearing your workout clothes. Your mom has offered to take you shopping, but you’re well aware that money’s tight, especially with Little Bean’s upcoming arrival. So gym shorts it is. 

“You’re doing such a good job,” Steve murmurs in your ear as your mom chats with the receptionist. For better or for worse, everyone knows each other in this small town. 

“Huh?” you reply dumbly, trying to ignore the shiver etching along your spine at the vibration of his voice. 

Steve laughs kindly. “You’re doing a great job growing Little Bean,” he explains. “Keeping him or her safe and strong until they’re ready to make their grand entrance.”

“Oh,” you mumble. The compliment catches you off-guard, and it feels like your whole body is blushing. “Thank you. And, um, thank you for helping me with—with all this.” There’s too much that he’s done for you to list it all out, so you hope that will suffice. 

Your mom finishes up her conversation and you all make your way to her sedan. With your mom at the wheel, you take the passenger seat. It’s getting a bit difficult to maneuver your body into the low car, but Steve politely holds your waist and helps you. There’s nothing inherently sexy about it, but it still revs up your hormones. If your mom wasn’t here, you’d have a hard time fighting back the urge to kiss him. 

“Y’good?” Steve confirms before sliding into the backseat. You feel his meaty palm clasp your shoulder in reassurance, and you smile and relax against the headrest. 

The car ride to Steve’s house is filled with pleasantries and easy conversation; no Vecna-induced episodes this time, thank God. You wave good-bye to Steve from the window, wanting to pull him in for a hug and never let him go. A sigh escapes your lips as he walks away, jeans clinging to him perfectly. 

You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, because your mom notices your dopey grin and the far-away look in your eyes. “Y/N, really?” She anxiously pinches the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. “Are you serious right now?”

“Wh-What?” you stammer, trying to sound coy, but you should know better than to put on a facade in front of her. She already knows the truth.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” she asks, tone more accusing than you’d like. “Y/N, you are pregnant with Eddie’s baby and making heart eyes at Steve. What are people going to think?” She shakes her head in disappointment. “Isn’t it hard enough dealing with the earthquake and preparing to be a mom? Do we need to add another boy into the mix?”

You want to tell her that Steve is more than just another boy, that he’s been your lifeline throughout this pregnancy (save for the months you’d hid from him), that he’s in constant mortal danger and that your thoughts flicker to him and his safety (and that cute mole on his neck, but you digress). But all of it stays bundled inside, shoved deep down and locked away.

“I know,” you mumble, biting your lip and averting your gaze. “It’s probably just the hormones. I’m not gonna act on it.”

It’s a promise you intend to keep. Hawkins is, after all, a very small town, chock full of people with a small-town mindset. Being the teen mother with a dead baby daddy is already bad; you don’t need the additional reputation of the town slut. 

But your efforts appear futile. You can’t help how you smile when he does. Or the way your stomach flips when his hand brushes against yours. Or the way you two seem to melt into each other when he envelops you in a warm hug. You want to hold him forever, feel his strong arms wrap around your body and never let each other go. You want to kiss him, slow and soft, letting the hunger gradually overtake you until you just can’t hold back any longer. 

A week after your appointment, Steve pulls up to your house just as you’re coming back from work. “Hey,” he calls out. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He seems concerned, and you hurry to him as fast as your growing body allows. 

“Everything okay? Is it—is it him?” Your voice drops to a whisper, and you breathe a sigh of relief when he shakes his head. “Then what is it?”

“I, um, I noticed you haven’t been wearing the kinda clothes you normally wear,” he stammers. “D’you have, like, pregnant people clothes?” His eyes dart away as he tries to hide his embarrassment. 

You giggle. “You mean maternity clothes?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“No,” you answer honestly. “The stretchy pants seem to be doing the trick for now.” There are two reasons to avoid shopping. The first is purely financial: clothes cost money, money that could be spent on a crib or a changing table or the millions of diapers everyone swears the baby will need. The second is that you’ll actually have to look at yourself, take in your body’s changes—the stretch marks, the weight gain, all of it. You really don’t want to do that. 

Steve wrinkles his nose adorably. “Okay, let’s go,” he says finally, and though his voice is gentle, you can tell he won’t take no for an answer. 

“Go where?”

“The mall. I’m getting you some pregnant people clothes.” He smiles as he takes your hand and starts leading you to his car. 

You keep your feet—your swollen, aching feet—rooted to the ground. “Steve, I don’t want to,” you tell him petulantly. “It’s too expensive.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he laughs, fishing into his pocket for his worn leather wallet. “Swiped my dad’s MasterCard before I left the house. As long as we don’t spend, like, $1,000, he won’t even notice.”

Based on all the awful things Steve had told you about his father—both of his parents, actually—you have no problem carelessly spending their money. But that only solves one problem. 

“And I don’t wanna try stuff on.” You mutter too low under your breath, and Steve cocks his head to hear you better. 

“What?” he asks, hands on his hips. 

“I said, I don’t wanna try stuff on,” you repeat through gritted teeth, tears pricking at your eyes.

Steve furrows his brows in confusion. “Why not?” Initially, you assume he’s being sarcastic, but he’s genuinely puzzled.

“Seriously?” You bark out an incredulous laugh. “Are you joking?” When his expression remains unchanged, you plow on. “Look at me. I’m…”

“Beautiful?” Steve blurts out. “I-I mean, you looked great before you got pregnant, and you look great now, and you’ll look great after you have the baby.” He clears his throat and brings a hand through his hair. “Eddie would love seeing you like this. He’d think you’re beautiful, too.” 

You’re left speechless at his candid admission, mouth suddenly drier than the Sahara. The mention of Eddie’s name leaves you both sad and disappointed. It’s a reminder that Eddie himself isn’t here, but it also implies that Steve wants you to remember who the baby’s real father is, and it’s not him. That you’re Eddie’s girl, and he doesn’t want you getting too attached to him. “Um, thanks,” you manage. Desperate to avoid further confessions–like you telling him that he’s so devastatingly handsome that it hurts you–you charge towards his car. “Let’s just go shopping, yeah?”

Steve only nods, slightly deflated that you pushed off his compliment. Did you not like that he called you beautiful? Was it too forward? Of course it was; you’re still in love with Eddie. You’re having his baby, for God’s sake. What you need right now is a friend, not a secret admirer.

After scooping up some maternity clothes–all on Mr. Harrington’s dime–Steve offers to drive you back home, but you politely decline the ride.

“Y’sure?” he asks uneasily. 

“Yeah, I wanna window shop for a bit, maybe check out some more baby stuff.” The lie rolls off your tongue before you can stop it. “I’ll just call my mom when I’m done.”

Steve rubs the nape of his neck. “I can stick around, if you want. I don’t mind, really.” Don’t mind is putting it mildly; he wants nothing more than to take your hand and pick out onesies and burp cloths alongside you. Or maybe getting more clothes for you. He’d had to hold back when you’d walked out of the fitting room in a flowing sage green maternity dress. You were ethereal, like some sort of goddess, even when you’d made a face and grumbled something about looking like an avocado. He’d nearly replied, “Sexiest avocado I’ve ever seen,” but that would imply a) that he’s attracted to you, and b) he thinks avocados are sexy.

Instead, he’d offered a brisk, “looks good.” You’d rolled your eyes but bought the dress anyway.

You wait an appropriate amount of time that would allow Steve to get to his car and drive away before you exit the mall. You have one stop to make before you go home; thankfully, it’s only a short bus ride away, because by the time you arrive, you have to pee like a racehorse. Pregnancy bladder and large slushies do not mix well. Noted. 

The bell chimes when you bolt through the door. “Hey, Robs,” you greet your friend as you dash towards the restroom. “Just gonna borrow the bathroom for a quick sec and then I need some advice.” Robin doesn’t have time to remind you that it’s employees only before you slam the door shut and breathe a sigh of relief. You need to tell her about your feelings for Steve and get her advice. She’ll know what to do; she always does.

You can hear the bell again as you’re washing up, but you don’t think much of it until you hear Robin say, “What’re you doing here, dingus? You don’t work today.”

Steve.

“I know, I know,” he grumbles. “But I gotta talk to you about Y/N.”

Fuck. He’s going to tell her about how clingy you are, that he feels smothered or like you’re using him to replace Eddie.

“I would’ve been here sooner, but I got caught up at the gas station. Tammy Thompson, like, cornered me and started bragging about some stupid record deal,” he starts. “But, dude, I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Tammy Thompson?” 

“No! Y/N; I can’t stop thinking about Y/N!” Steve’s exasperation is evident. “And I know I shouldn’t, because she’s having a goddamn baby, and she’s grieving Eddie, and she’s way out of my league, but I can’t take it anymore. I can’t just stand around and pretend that I don’t think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, pretend that I’m not…in love with her.” He sighs. “Shit. I’m in love with her,” he muses, as though he’s just realized it himself.

“Steve, I–” You can hear Robin’s panicked tone, and you shut off the water as quickly as you can.

“And, look, I know you’re gonna tell me that I just need to get over her, go out with someone else or whatever,” he presses on, and you hear his palm slap against the counter. “But it’s not that simple with her. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“N-No, it’s not that,” Robin rushes. “It’s–”

This has to be a joke. There is no way in hell that Steve Harrington is in love with you, especially given your current circumstances. You’re broken, bruised, hurting, scared, and pregnant. You’re just waiting for the punchline, the gotcha moment, but it doesn’t come.

“I gotta tell her. I gotta do it,” he decides, ignoring his friend’s interjection. “Even though she won’t feel the same way. I just need to tell her, and she can decide whether or not she wants to talk to me again. But I can’t keep this to myself.” He’s rambling now. “Unless that puts too much pressure on her. Oh, God, what if she feels like she has to tell me she likes me back, even if she doesn’t, just to spare my feelings? Because she’s so nice like that; that’s one of the things I love about her. But I also love that she’s honest, so maybe she would just let me down gently–”

“Steve.” This interruption isn’t from Robin. Steve’s head snaps in the direction of the bathroom as he hears your voice. 

“Y/N,” he breathes, face turning bright red, “h-how much of that did you hear?”

“All of it,” you tell him softly. You practically have to coach yourself to put one foot in front of the other until you’re standing before him. “I heard every word.” And with that, you press onto your toes and cup his blushing cheek with your hand. You lean in as much as your bump will allow and kiss him. Kiss him like you’ve been wanting to, parting his lips with your own. You feel his right hand slip around your waist as he manages to pull you closer; his left hand rests on your upper arm. It’s tender but passionate, hungry but gentle. You don’t break away from each other until you hear a soft muttering from behind the counter.

“Finally.”

You giggle at Robin’s utterance, suddenly shy at the fact that you’ve initiated this in the middle of Family Video. 

“I, uh, don’t normally kiss someone for the first time with an audience,” you explain. Your first kiss with Eddie happened in his van after school, tongues tangling as he pressed his lips to yours. 

Steve just shrugs and laughs it off. “Yeah, well, I don’t normally profess my love for someone before I even take them on a date.”

“To be fair, nothing about any of this,” you gesture wildly, “has been normal. Abnormal kinda seems par for the course with us, actually.” The mere idea of an us makes you happy. You’d never pictured an us other than you and Eddie, but you can see Steve being your teammate, your partner, your love. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, but you’re tired of fighting it. “Besides, we can still go on a date.”

“Tomorrow night, then?” Steve asks, grinning wider than you’ve ever seen from him. “Dinner and a movie?”

“That sounds perfect.” And it does. Your time with Steve is usually spent at doctor’s appointments or agonizing over Vecna’s wrath. All you want is a nice night out with him. 

“Cool,” he nods, adding, “wear that green dress you bought today, okay?”

The next evening, Steve picks you up at 6:30. You’re wearing the dress, just as he requested. He still sleeps over most nights, but he’s not actually living with you, nor does he have his own key, so he knocks on the apartment door. 

“Wow, Y/N, you look incredible,” he breathes, eyes glued to you. He’s so enthralled by your beauty that he nearly forgets about the bouquet of red roses in his hand. “These…these are for you.” He holds them out shakily. “S-sorry, I didn’t even ask what your favorite flower is. I just kinda assumed these would be okay, but if you don’t like them—”

You once again derail his train of thought by kissing him, smiling into it and hooking your finger through one of his belt loops. “Steve. I love them,” you say reassuringly. “And you look so handsome.” He’s wearing a black shirt tucked into gray slacks. A silver watch adorns his wrist. 

“If you keep interrupting like that, I’m gonna ramble more often,” Steve grins as you grab a vase for the flowers, quickly returning and lacing your fingers with his. 

“I don’t think you need an excuse to do that,” you tease, pressing another kiss to his cheek and walking to his car. It feels so nice, so freeing, to be able to do that whenever the urge strikes you. 

Your eyes widen when he pulls up in front of Enzo’s. “How did you know that Little Bean wanted chicken parmesan today?”

“Lucky guess,” Steve laughs. “Also, who doesn’t love chicken parm?” He follows you into the restaurant, holding the door open for you with one hand and placing the other on the small of your back. 

The smell of fresh bread and garlic permeates the air, and you suddenly feel starving. The hostess brings you to a candlelit table. Steve pulls your chair out for you, and you smile gratefully. 

“Such a gentleman,” you giggle, tilting your head upwards as he kisses you gently. “And they say that chivalry is dead.”

“No, but apparently, loyalty is.” A new voice startles both of you, and you freeze in place. You turn to see Gareth standing at a nearby table, carrying a bin of dirty dishes. “Y/N, what the hell are you doing with King Steve?” His eyes are drawn to the swell of your belly. “Are you—is that—”

“Eddie’s,” you murmur, unable to look at him. Steve’s palms are practically glued to the back of your chair. 

“You’re having Eddie’s baby, and you’re swapping spit with Steve Harrington,” the boy sneers. “Moving on a bit fast, huh?”

You shake your head. “It’s not like that. We didn’t plan for this—any of this—to happen. It just…did.”

“Tell me,” Gareth goes on, disgusted look plastered to his face, “you gonna tell this kid who their dad was? Or are you and Harrington gonna play one big happy family and act like Eddie never existed?”

It feels like your throat constricts. You hadn’t even thought of that. When were you going to explain to your baby what happened to Eddie? And if Steve stuck around—and you wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t after this—would Little Bean call him ‘dad’? You don’t even realize that you’re crying until you see Gareth’s face fall. 

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry,” he starts, the impact of his words sinking in. “I shouldn’t have said that—”

“Let’s just go,” you tell Steve, voice barely above a whisper. “‘M not hungry anymore.”

Steve nods. “I’ll take you home.” He’s speaking to you, but he’s shooting Gareth a glare; the busboy is lucky that looks can’t kill. “Maybe we can pick up some snacks on the ride back.”

You leave the restaurant wordlessly, too ashamed to hold Steve’s hand this time. He hands you his keys and instructs you to wait in the car. 

“I’ll be there in just a sec,” he promises. 

When you’re out of earshot, Steve approaches Gareth, who is now trembling. Probably thinks I’m gonna beat the shit outta him, Steve thinks, and I should. But he doesn’t; instead, he leans in to hiss into Gareth’s ear. 

“Unlike you, I don’t get off on humiliating people,” he growls. “My shift at Family Video ends at five tomorrow, if you wanna talk about this like a real man.”

And with that, he’s out the door. 

--

Chapter 2: California Dreaming, The Week Addition

Hi all, I’m back! This week is centered around finding the best exercise routine, getting a golden glow, and finding my zen. Monday hit like most Mondays do, with exhaustion. My jet lag had finally hit me and so did my anxiety. It’s hard in moments where the sun is shining and I am on vacation to understand why I could feel anything but pure bliss, but I do and it’s okay. I spent the morning deciding what to do with the day ahead. By noon, I finally made it out of the house and to the beach. Here I laid, read, and tried to calm my nerves with the sound of the ocean hitting the shoreline. The sun was a little warmer than the days prior so trying to get my golden glow was a little more sweaty. Soon I made my way home to prepare for OrangeTheory. While being in California I thought I would take advantage of some free or reduced workout classes because why not! Once I made it to class, I felt a little out of place.

The community atmosphere of this gym was different then what I had experienced before. It wasn’t like a yoga studio or the all womens gym in my town. Your name was posted on a board with the calories you burned , your current heart rate, and splat points (which are basically points you earn once you are in the orange zone for a specific amount of time and this leads to after calorie burn). Though I definetly got a workout and the instructor was nice, this atmosphere of pushing to a number and competing against others instead of myself made me feel inadequate. Though for some it may be liberating to beat others, for me, it felt inferior when I hadn’t exceeded whatever expectations I thought had been set. I’m glad I had this experience as a reminder that moving my body is for only me. I also was greatful becuase it showed me how much stronger I have gotten and I’m greatful to be able to move my body how I want again.

After a day in the sunshine and a long workout, my eyes began to close around 8pm, but luckily I made it until around 9:30pm before I finally hit the hay. The next morning, I felt a lot better. I was excited to start the day and was looking forward to a Pilates class I signed up for. In the early morning hours I worked on grad school applications which made me excited for the future ahead. Then, back to the moment, I made it to my workout class and was intimidated by the neon pink room and EDM music. I hate being a beginner, but I wanted to try something new and something fun. During class, I was most definetly challenged. Though I wasn’t super sweaty, I was shaking when needing to hold a plank or pulse my leg. This class reminded me how important it is to go slow, be mindful, and even if a workout is difficult be in the moment. I struggled with some of the movements and the instructor seemed to annoyed when I had difficulty with her suggestions which only made me feel more inferior. This reminded me the importance of having someone you feel safe with and how when being critiqued it is important that the voice isn’t demanding. Overall, though I was sore and feeling a little deflated, I’m still proud of moving my body and trying. After this, I went to the beach and tanned with the sun a lot kinder and the wind cooling me down.

The rest of the week moved fairly quickly with sunshine during the daytime and a wind down in the evening. Living so close to the beach, we got to go to the beach not just in the day time but in the evening too. With the cool sand in our toes, we were able to see the few stars the nighttime granted us. The evenings were spent watching Community and enjoying each others company. On Friday, I was finally able to see Marks work. The campus was absolutely stunning and was able to grant him both views of the stunning Malibu ocean and hills. During the morning time, before he could “supervise me”, I got to go chill in the Malibu market for a few hours. Here, I went to a yoga class in hopes to find some grounding and maybe a celebrity siting. This class was helpful for me. Throughout the class I was proud of how I had “perfected” some of my moves. This was a reminder that yoga is play, yoga is a journey. I had the thought during my class that I’m in my 20s now and I want to one day be practicing into my 50s, that’s 30s. Yoga like life is a journey, your practice changes as your life changes. What I love about yoga is it’s more than just a workout but a reflection of your current mental space. I hope to continue allowing my practice to have me explore more questions about myself and beliefs.

Friday evening the traffic was atrocious driving home on the PCH but at least the view was beautiful. For dinner, we were able to eat some delicious In-n-Out and I was very happy to have this before I left. Overall, this week has been successful and a good restart before I start working. I’m looking forward to what the weekend will bring!

Step Out of Your Box and See What Happens

Baldy is a good photographer but…definitely not this good.

Last week I went to Winston Salem, NC with my photographer and friend, Sara-Anne Caudle. Winston Salem about an hour drive from where I live and I’ll admit that I tried to back out and just do the pictures in town. It seemed a long way to go to take pictures, but Sara-Anne insisted that we needed to get out of town and go some place different. I finally agreed and we loaded up her van with about 10 outfits and off we went. It was so much fun and a little exhausting, but we definitely got some amazing pictures and I’m so glad I went!

Sara-Anne and I got to Winston at around 6:30 pm. The light was perfect and there were so many great places to shoot that we had a hard time deciding where to go first. Somehow we managed! When the light started to fade, we found an amazing restaurant and had a fabulous dinner. If any of you saw my blog post with the recipe for grilled peach salad, I got the idea from dinner that night and recreated my own version.

This short little road trip I took with Sara-Anne made me think about why it’s so good to do things differently and step out of your box. Our subconscious mind can easily run the show if we let it. Our subconscious mind wants us to do what’s easy and familiar…and most of all safe. Thinking with your conscious mind is the same as living with purpose and intent.

While routine can be good and we can create good habits with a routine, it can also start to be a little mundane and instead of being intentional, we are just going through the motions because it’s what we do…it’s our routine. Mixing things up a bit can make life interesting, and cause you to see things in a different way. You may also meet new people as a result of doing things differently.

An example of this could be working from a coffee shop instead of from home, or going for a walk outside instead of going to the gym, or before going to the gym. It could also be as simple as getting a new journal or sitting somewhere different when meditating.

For me, getting out of town to take pictures got me excited about new possibilities for being creative with my blog. I also discovered a new part of Winston Salem that I had never been to and ate fabulous food at a new restaurant.

I’m planning to do this more often in different areas of my life so that I keep those creative juices flowing. Creativity follows curiosity and there is so much in this life to discover! What can you do differently to make life more interesting?

The dress I’m wearing in these pictures is by Ulla Johnson. As you probably know I’m just a little obsessed with her designs and this dress is no exception. One of the things I’m loving about it is that it will go seamlessly into fall with the addition of a denim or leather jacket and booties. For now, I’ve paired it with blue sandals and a bucket bag from Tory Burch that I’ve had for several years and was a special birthday gift from a friend!

Each Thursday starting today, I’m including a short video with a message from me! I’m excited about this because it’s stretching me to get more comfortable with video. I hope you enjoy these videos…please let me know and if you feel inspired to leave a comment I would love that! I’m still learning but I’m sure I’ll get better as time goes on. Who knows…there could be a podcast in my future!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this post and as always…thank you for reading!

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

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

“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

I’m Not Afraid - Chapter 2

Word Count: 4,585

Characters: Female Reader Argent Character, Original Male Argent Character, Derek Hale, Allison Argent, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, Chris Argent, Jackson Whittemore

Story Description: (Y/N) Argent arrived at Beacon Hills to put to rest her father’s sister, Kate Argent. For the first time, her family has decided to settle down and sustain a life in this interesting small town. After 17 years, (Y/N) has the opportunity to establish interpersonal relationships but will she be ready to face the complications that come with relating to her cousin’s, Allison, friends; especially, the infamous Derek Hale. She will face the adventure of being associated with the Derek and McCall pack as well as being faced with the discovery of certain aspects of her life she never imagined.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Teen Wolf, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and MTV Network. The only thing I own is Argent Reader insert, her immediate family, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ storyline.

Chapter: 2/?

A/N:  SOFT DEREK, SOFT DEREK!!!!! If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 2

5:00 am my phone read. 

It was usual for my brain to be awake at this hour. Since before I can remember it was part of the schedule I followed, everywhere I went. It was a small thing, but the sense of normalcy was a comforting friend. It made sense to follow a routine I could have anywhere. I was out of bed and into workout clothes, ready for a quick jog around the woods. 

I started off with a slow and comfortable trot before speeding up once I reached the tree-filled terrain. The smell of wet soil, the sound of birds chirping and leaves rustling, the crunching of leaves under my feet was oddly comforting. There was a strange pull that came from the heart of Beacon Hills. I had lived in many places in my short lifetime but this place was different, the atmosphere was different, the people were different. One of those people was Derek Hale, the mysterious, broody, sarcastic man that had bumped his way in. 

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Why are you stopping?" He asked, a small chuckle escaping his mouth. 

"How did you get here? Where the hell did you come from?"

"You're not the only person who jogs in this town and this happens to be the trail I take. You know, you should work out on a trail that is closer to your house. Makes it easier to actually go back."

I looked around. Once again, I had trailed off and didn't know where I was. "Lucky for you, I have a great memory. We can finish off running and I'll instruct you back to your house."

"You know you sound like a stalker." We started to jog once again.

"How so?" 

"Well, you've only been there like two or three times and you already know the way back. Creepy!"

"Oh, come on, it means that I have a very sharp memory. Unlike you who can't seem to remember what house you live in."

"Touché."

The con and occasionally laughing at something. It felt good talking to him, almost natural. There was a supernatural attraction that I felt when I was near him, an unusual need for his closeness. Our relationship came easy, as the cliché would have it, it felt like I had known him all my life. 

We ran for about an hour and a half before we turned back. "I think it's time we went back. You have school in an hour."

"Whoa, take the stalking down a notch."

"Oh, come on, I went to that school before you, I think I know the schedule."

"Alright, grandpa. Let's head back. It's time for your breakfast smoothie and then some bingo."

"Very funny." He ruffled my hair whilst fake laughing.

"I try." We ran and ran until I came into view of the curb that led to the house. "Well, this is my exit. Would it be too much to ask for you to take me to school?"

"Not a problem. Meet you back here at 7:45?"

"That would be perfect." He kissed my cheek and left to run to where I believe was his house. My face turned red, and I ducked inside.

"Mom? Dad?" I entered the kitchen and noticed a note over a covered plate. "Left for work early. Eat your food and go to school." I read out loud.

I took my time getting ready for school. My bag was already packed, as was my lunch. A long shower and a slow breakfast were in store as I awaited Derek's black Camaro to roll into my driveway. 

"Thanks so much for the lift. I packed you some breakfast." 

"No problem and thank you." He smiled. "You know, maybe after school, I can finally give you a tour around town. So you can familiarize yourself."

"That would be wonderful." I checked my schedule. "Actually, you can pick me up an hour before school ends. I have study hall at that hour, and no one would care if I left."

"I think I can make that arrangement." He looked at me showing a perfect set of white teeth and a smile that would make anyone melt. "But wouldn't your parents know that you left school? I mean, you won't be there when they go pick you up."

"I'll just tell them Allison gave me a ride or walked home," I said thinking of more excuses I could tell my parents. Distracted by my thoughts, my hand started reaching out to the powered-off radio and I didn't notice that so did Derek's. A sharp current went up my arm as our hands make contact. We both quickly pulled away and I could feel the blood rushing to my face turning it a deep shade of red.

"Sorry, I shouldn't impose. It's your car." I spoke up, quick to start picking at the skin around my fingernails to busy my hands. Derek perceived the nervous nature of my actions and stopped my fussing by putting one of his hands over mine. 

"Don't worry it's fine. Just put the radio on whatever station you like." He smiled reassuringly and I reached to the radio and just turned it on, leaving it in the last station it had been on.

"Ugh, I absolutely dread going to school. Most of it I'm gonna forget either way."

"I'd tell you to ditch but that would be shame on me, so I won't. But think about it, this day you'll only get 7 hours of school and then you can hang out with me. Best present ever."

"Yeah, don't think so highly of yourself. Maybe I'll just wander around town until I find my way home."

"Very funny." He stopped at the drop-off zone. "This is your stop."

"Thanks again for the ride, awfully kind actions from such a sour wolf" I laughed at his scowl. "I'll see you in the afternoon."

"Looking forward to it." I exited the car and he waited till I was on the sidewalk to speed off.

"Was that Derek Hale that just dropped you off?" I turned around and was met face-to-face with Scott.

"Yeah. What's the problem?" Not that it will matter.

"You shouldn't trust him, he's bad news."

"Honestly, Scott, I understand your good intentions, but I'll sort out the wrong kind on my own terms." He looked taken aback at my response, probably thinking I would not talk back.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but he is not a person that anyone should be with." With that, he left with worry evident on his face.

I understood that he was looking out for my "well-being”, but he didn't know me and I'm pretty sure he didn't know Derek either. Maybe that's what Derek meant when I met him. Everyone thinks he is a bad person, but he hasn't done anything wrong in my eyes.

I walked over to my locker and started exchanging my books. Closely next to me I could hear Scott talking to Allison about me and Derek, and my name should be out of his mouth. Once I finished with my locker, I slammed the door and they both stopped talking, noting my close presence. I walked past them feeling their worried stares burning my back. This was going to be a hell of a year. The only thing that could get me through it was the acquaintance relationship I have with Isaac. I did text him a bit last night but mostly helping him with homework. Lord knows he needs all the help he can get.  

We all stood around in gym class as Stiles and Erica climbed the rock wall. Everyone else had gone including Scott who mastered a great fall. Stiles appeared to have fun, but Erica would let out sounds of discomfort and shortness of breath as she climbed. At a point, she stopped. 

"Erica, are you dizzy?" Coach said. "Is it vertigo?" 

"Vertigo is the dysfunction of the vesicular system of the inner ear" Lydia stated in a mocking tone. "She's just freaking out." 

"Erica!" Coach screamed.

"coach, maybe it’s not safe. you know she's epileptic." Allison stated. How does no one care? 

"Wh-why does no one tell me this?!" Coach Finstock questioned annoyed. "Erica, just fall back, there's a mat that will catch you." 

She slowly let go of the wall and made her descent. No one seemed to care that the poor girl was shaken to the core; they all laughed.

When class was over everyone headed to their respective locker rooms to change. Something inside me kept pulling me back to the gym, so I walked back as I put on my shirt. As I opened the doors, I saw Erica fall from the wall and luckily into Scott's arms. He slowly put her on the floor as the class ran in behind us. 

"Put her on her side," I stated. 

"How did you know?" Allison whispered to Scott.

"I just felt it." He whispered back. 

After Erica had calmed, the coach called an ambulance to take her to be checked at the hospital and the day went by normally. I was currently in my "last" period. Tapping my nails in a rhythmic pattern waiting for the stupid bell to ring. Only 5 more minutes and I would be out of here. This was the first time I had done something like this. I always stick by the rules and make sure to follow all of them. My heart was racing, and my palms were sweating. In 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Cue the bell. I grabbed all my things and stuffed them in my bag. I used to my advantage the fact that everyone was piled in the hallway and headed outside. Waiting for me was Derek in his black Camaro. Suddenly my heart steadied its pace and I felt relaxed.

"Hey there, rebel." He smirked at me as I entered the car and buckled my seatbelt.

"Don't make small talk. Just go." I said whilst trying to hide by burrowing in the seat. If I could I would have jumped into the trunk to avoid any hidden stares from authority figures.

"Don't tell me you've never done this before." I shook my head no and felt my face growing warmer by the second. "Aw, you're so innocent. For a big mouth that is." I slapped his arm as hard as I could.

"Don't be rude." I crossed my arms, slouched down, and pouted. He looked over at me and laughed. That made me slouch farther down.

"Oh, come on. Don't get mad." He ruffled my hair and laughed once again when I swatted his hand away. "Yeesh, feisty."

"So, where's our first pit stop?" I asked whilst looking out the window not wanting to look at his face.

"A small diner I know. Wouldn't want you to starve." He smirked. "Might make you angrier."

"I am not angry, just annoyed."

"Got some feelings hurt?" He said laughing.

"Derek, don't be rude. You will regret it."

"Oh, what could you do?"

"Is that a challenge?" He didn't answer, just laughed. I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. "HELP!! This man is kidnapping me!! HELP!! Bloody he...!" 

My sentence was cut short by Derek's hand pulling me down by my jacket and onto the seat again.

"Why did you do that?" I asked innocently. I had caused the faces of a few people on the street to look at the car in horror.

"You know why! That was totally uncalled for."

"I told you that being rude was something you would regret. I'm not one to say this a lot but, I told you so." 

He tried his best to keep a tight scowl on his face but in a matter of seconds, we were laughing at my past actions.

"Whatever, we're here." He turned off the car and went to the passenger side to open the door for me. 

"Why thank you," I said and took his extended hand to pull my weight up. 

"No problem." I smiled at his goofy courtesy but as we walked inside the establishment I could feel my heart beating faster by the second. "Table for two." Derek pointed at a booth made for two people exactly. Once we had sat down a lady maybe in her late thirties approached us to take our order.

"What do you want to order today, darlings?" She gave us a warm smile as she waited for our response.

"I'll have the bacon cheeseburger with some onion rings, a stack of pancakes, and some chicken fillets, a Diet Coke, and afterward some pie, please."

"Would you like the kitchen sink with that?" I said in shock. "I think I'll just get the, ummmm, bacon cheeseburger also with some onion rings and an iced tea. Maybe add some pie afterward too."

The lady laughed a bit, nodded, and smiled at us as she turned to the kitchen to put out our order. 

"So, someone's a bit hungry. Huh, sour wolf?" I chuckled.

"Why do you call me that?" He said somewhat annoyed.

"I don't know. It just fits you."

"How?"

"Cause you're very sour and you kind of look like a wolf. Hairy face and crazy hair. I don't know how to explain it. It's just a nickname, though. If it makes you mad I can just call you something else."

"I'm not mad. Just wondering." He slouched on the seat looking less tense. "How is it that I'm usually so bad with meeting people yet with you, I just clicked?"

"I don't know. I'm just special that way."

"Very funny."

"I know! I could take up a career in comedy." He chuckled as he threw a sugar packet at me. "So, since we are getting to know each other we should know basic things about one another. Let me start. What's your favorite color?"

"Maybe black or blue. What about you?"

"Totally red and black." The waitress came with our drinks. I took a sip of my iced tea and continued with the questions. "Favorite place to be?"

"That house in the woods where we met." I gave him a weird look.

"Why there? It barely stands with a foundation. What could possibly be there?"

"It's the house I used to live in before it burnt down. My family was in there." I choked on my drink when he said this.

"Oh my gosh, Derek. I'm so sorry I brought it up. We can drop the topic."

"Don't worry about it. It happened such a long time ago it's sometimes relieving talking about it." After there was an awkward silence, so Derek cleared his throat and asked a question. "Um, and what's your favorite place to be?"

"I'm not sure. Usually, I like places more because of the people I'm with. But if I had to choose probably the woods, it's the calmest place I know. The only place where you can actually be free."

"Wow, Ms. Argent. So poetic. It touched me." He pointed at his heart. "Right here."

"Very funny, now, favorite sport?" And the game went on even when our food served. Whilst eating we kept asking each other questions and getting to know each other profoundly. This has been the first time I had ever opened up to someone. It felt strange. Letting someone know small details about yourself. Making yourself vulnerable to them. Showing them how they could break you. But this was different. I felt like I was just becoming closer to him.

"We should do that someday. I mean the thought of just leaving for a whole day, not knowing where you are going, just finding an adventure."

"Definitely. You decide when the first time." I smiled at him.

"That's a deal." He looked down at his watch. "I think it's time I take you home. Don't want your parents to worry."

"Alright. Let's go." I grabbed my bag and was about to pay my part of the check, but he wouldn't let me. He grabbed the money I left and paid completely. "I don't understand the need of being such a gentleman if this wasn't a date. Just two people hanging out."

"So, this wasn't a date?"

"You thought it was?" I thought about it. "What do you classify a date per se?"

"An outing in which two people go out and get to know each other a little bit more." What he said made sense. It had never dawned on me that this could have been anything other than just a casual outing, but not being too well versed in normal social encounters, let alone dating encounters. 

"Alright, you win. I have officially gone on my first date."

"No way. This could not have been your first date." When he saw the serious look on my face, he stopped chuckling. "I'm so sorry you had to have given you such a crappy first date. I promise I'll make up for it one day."

"Deal." We even shook on it. "Now let's get going before my parents know I'm late."

During the drive back, he pointed out different key places I should know when going around Beacon Hills as well as easier routes to these places. Although I was heavily grateful for all the useful tips, my brain could hardly remember the first route he showed me. 

When we got to my house, I noticed that my father's car was not in there. I guess they haven't arrived yet. I said goodbye to Derek and entered the house, thanking him for a lovely afternoon. I changed into workout attire and, deciding to stay home, went to the basement and started working out. After half an hour of running and half an hour of physical training, I decided it was enough and went to take a shower. I noticed that my parents weren't home yet.

"I wonder what's holding them back?" After my shower, I continued my current read of Pride and Prejudice. But something was bothering me, a thought that wouldn't leave my head.

I'm leaving once the year is over. Getting close to Derek will fuck me up once I leave. I've never had to say goodbye to anyone. I can't start now. I'll need to start avoiding him. Don't know how, but I must try.

I went downstairs to get a glass of water when I heard a knock on the door. It was Uncle Chris.

"Hey, Uncle Chris. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for your father. Is he here?"

"No, I haven't seen him. I got here and neither mom nor dad was here. Is something wrong?"

"No. Just couldn't reach his cell. I'm sure he's fine. Have a good night, sweetheart." He kissed my forehead and left. I started to worry. What if something had happened?

So, I decided to call him. Fortunately, he picked up.

"Dad, where are you?"

"Oh, honey, I forgot to tell you. Your mom and I will be out for the rest of the week. We left some money on the first drawer of the right side of the kitchen island and if you want you can stay with your uncle."

"But Uncle Chris came by and he didn't know where you were. Does he know you left?"

"Oh, I forgot to call him. I'll do that right now. Goodnight, munchkin, go to sleep."

"Goodnight, dad. Love you."

"Love you too." I hung up the phone and went upstairs completely forgetting about the glass of water I went to drink.

My phone buzzed and I looked at the caller ID signaling that Isaac was calling.

"Hey, Isaac."

"Hey, (Y/N). Um, do you think you can pick me up?" Isaac said in between short pants.

"Sure, where are you?" I asked. He told me where he was, and I took the keys to my mother's car to look for Isaac. He looked scared and frantic when I neared the spot, he told me about. His physique also looked different. Usually, he would walk cowering but now he stood tall and seemed a bit more buff. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just, um, do you think I could stay with you tonight?"

"I guess." I started driving to my house. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, totally. Just tired." I took the hint. He didn't want to talk, and I wasn't going to press on.

At my house, I arranged the guest room and got him spare clothes to change into. He thanked me and left for the bathroom. Something was wrong. But what?

***

Three days had passed.

Three days that I had stayed in my house for my daily workout.

Three days that my phone had been buzzing with messages from Derek asking where I was.

Because three nights before I had decided to avoid Derek at all costs.

The only way to leave it all behind is if you don't associate yourself with anyone. That way you won't feel any remorse or pain once you disappear. One time when I left was when I was approximately six or seven years old, and I had to say goodbye to Allison since we were sharing a room at that time. The second time was when I had to leave Josie. After that, I started familiarizing myself with the feeling of loneliness.  It wasn't that bad once you remembered the fact that you would always see your parents when you got home, and everything would be better. Although, these days I had housed Isaac in my house, rare was the occasion that we interacted other than doing homework. Isaac would come home late in the night and quickly went to sleep. But, he stayed in my spare room for two nights and told me he had found a place to stay. He left thanking me for my hospitality.

When I finished my workout, I ran upstairs and took a shower. I changed from my stinky workout clothes to a plain white shirt and black jeans, obviously paired with my leather jacket. Once dressed I went downstairs and grabbed some cash to buy myself a muffin and a big coffee. Finally, I found the keys to my beautiful matte black Harley Fat Bob. My father had gotten me this motorcycle about two years back when he noticed I just kept crashing cars. The only thing I never crashed was his motorcycle and because he was worried I would, he bought me my own. I tend to wreck a lot of stuff. It's not intentional, I'm just clumsy at times.

I opened the door to the garage and noticed it sitting in a corner covered by a blanket. Once I took it off, I smiled. I passed my hand over the beautiful color, the smooth surface, the cold metal. It all felt familiar. A part of me. I grabbed my helmet and got on it. Once I sat my body felt relaxed, at ease. A spark of adrenaline was shot through my body when the engine came to life.

I backed up from the garage and went to the local café store. While waiting to pick up my order I noticed Derek walking in with his jogging clothes on. He still hasn't noticed me, too busy looking at the menu. When my name was called, he looked at me and called my name, but I ran out of the café with my order ignoring him.

When I got to the school everyone was staring at me. The new chick was now badass. I walked in with my backpack slung over my shoulder easing towards my locker.

"Hey there, gorgeous." I closed the locker door to see Jackson standing next to me. I rolled my eyes.

"Hi, Jackson. What do you want?"

"I was just wondering when you were free."

"Oh, well from tomorrow to never gonna happen. Get down from the cloud, buddy."

"Oh, come on, we both know you want some of this." He motioned over his body.

"Get over yourself." I scoffed.

"Babe, it doesn't hurt to try."

"I believe she's not interested, Jackson." A strawberry blonde girl appeared. Her confidence struck me like lightning, a very apparent aura of dominance radiating from within her.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Lydia. I'm talking to her, not you. You've already ruined everything else."

"Well, I think she has no business with you so why don't you scram?" With a huff and a puff, Jackson finally gave in and I turned to greet my hero, who was surprisingly accompanied by Allison.

"Thank you, so much. He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"No problem. I'm Lydia, but you knew that."

"(Y/N). Argent." She motioned between Allison and me. "Cousins."

"Pleasure." Then the bell rang. "Guess I have a new best friend, (Y/N)." You guessed wrong.

I entered Mr. Harris' classroom and sat down next to Isaac and as usual Mr. Chatty Pants tried to hold a conversation from the table behind us. Seriously, how much can someone talk? I took out my notebook and started writing down everything the teacher was saying is the homework on the board. Stiles had finally gotten the hint and didn't talk to me the whole class. That was a relief. Maybe it was due to the fact he was too focused on the strawberry blonde who had saved my ass from Jackson.

The day went on quite smoothly except at lunch. It wasn't the same Erica that had fallen from the rock-climbing wall. She completely changed; a more confident walk, she was wearing makeup and tight-fitted clothing, and her hair was perfectly styled. She left the lunchroom after taking a bite off an apple seductively and Scott and Stiles followed, as did I. Curiosity had taken the best of me as to this overnight transformation.

She opened the front doors to the school and there he was. Derek Hale in his black Camaro with the biggest smirk on his face staring at Scott. When he directed his sight to me his smirk kind of fell but was brought up quickly. During that Erica had gotten inside the car and they left, together. I don't know why I was jealous because he meant nothing to me, but it broke my heart. I got nervous. I think Scott noticed because he looked at me worried.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" I nodded rapidly and out of breath. I had no idea what was happening.

"I think you're having a panic attack." Stiles pointed out handing me an inhaler.

"I used to have panic attacks, too." I inhaled a pump and my breathing seemed to normalize. "You okay now?"

"Yeah. Thanks." I handed him the inhaler.

"No, keep it. I don't need it anymore." I said a low thanks and walked back to school to head to my next class.

I felt extremely weird the rest of the day. Why did I feel that way when I saw Erica and Derek together? It wasn't like anything was going on between us. Also, he's far too old for me. Or maybe I'm too young. I don't know. But I couldn't shake off that sour taste of jealousy that the image of them left.

I knew I wanted to stay as far away as I could from hin but at this moment there was nothing more that I wanted than to be close to him.

Tag: @lokisgoddesofpower

<- Previous

A/N: Please check out my last post about the fandoms I’ll be writing for. 

Gymnast 

Mob!Tom Holland x reader 

Request: Heyy could you do a mob Tom Holland x gymnast reader were Tom his family and Harrison go to see her gymnastics meet and there all impressed and they meet toms girlfriend the reader after words for the first time?!?! Thank you so much!!

Warnings: none I’m aware of :) 

A/N: I impressed myself and wrote this in like 30 minutes. Requests are flowing out of me !!^@$(* I left out the part where she actually meets the family because I had no idea how to write it without making it seem akward in this particular fic. hope u like it anon :) 

Word Count: 1,025

Tom couldn’t look away from you. 

Here he was in some other state for his favorite girl’s gymnastic meet where someone could recognize him and take the opportunity to take him out, and fuck he should really be keeping an eye out… 

But he can’t. 

He’s focused solely on you, murder attempts be damned. He had always been impressed at the small little manuevares you would do around his mansion- a handstand here, a balancing act there, maybe even a backhand spring when you were feeling restless, - but never had he really seen the calibar at which you compete. 

He shouldn't be surprised, really, the amount of sponsors you have for simply being an amazing athlete, and how you can support yourself solely off gymnastics. He should have expected that you were great. 

Olympic material, really. 

And judging by the looks on the judges faces and several other scout-looking men and women, you would most certainly be making it to the olympics if you so choose. 

He glances to his left, several of his brothers, Harrison, and his mother are just as impressed as he is. He does a quick sweep to make sure that he and his family are safe, making sure that his guards are not as entranced as he is and are actually doing their jobs. Satisfied, he turns back to watch you. 

You’ve moved on to your last part of the meet, (at least he thinks so, you had told him the night before but he was, distracted, by other things), the beam. You always had told him that the high beam always made you the most nervous, and that most of the time you felt as though you relied on pure luck once both feet were planted on the beam. 

Watching you know, he knows luck has nothing to do with it. You don’t wobble as you take your stance, doing several flips that Tom doesn’t even know the names of, just that he’s absolutely entranced at the amount of control and grace you possess. 

He watches your dismount, doing some twist that doesn’t seem like it should be possible and… 

You stick the landing almost perfectly. 

Tom has paid enough attention to know that landing the dismount was a crucial part of any routine, and he couldn’t be more proud of you. The crowd begins clapping, and as you smile towards each direction, you catch his eye and somehow your smile widens. 

He mouths a “Good job baby!” and hopes you catch it. 

After scores were released, (again, Tom really shouldn’t be surprised that you got first place in almost every single section), and your pictures have been taken along with several runner-ups, he quickly makes sure his brothers and his mom have been safely guided to one of the cars outside and on their way to the hotel. Harrison and him will shortly follow, after congratulations are made and his girl is back by his side. 

Harrison, who just got done talking to a bodyguard, strolls over to Tom and throws his arm around his shoulder. Any other day and he would be annoyed with his best friend/right-hand man, but he lets it slide because he suddenly sees you motioning him towards the back where they can be together without the worry of people seeing them. 

“Mate, how in the hell did you bag a gal as talented as that? Does she have a sister?” 

Tom elbows him. “Oh, shove off. Let’s go and see her and get back to the hotel.” 

-

“Tom!” you jump into his arms, your arms going around his neck as he kisses your face repeatedly. 

“Love, that was amazing,” he slowly puts you down, moving some stray hairs out of your face. “I think a private gym at my place is in order.” 

You laugh, but you’re not entirely sure if he’s joking. He was so in love with you that if you asked him to buy you a building and fill it with gold furniture he would probably oblige. 

Harrison suddenly clears his throat before you guys can get too romantic, and Tom turns you both to face him. 

“Harrison, this is y/n. Y/n, Harrison.” 

“It’s good to finally meet you!” 

Harrison gently shakes your hand, returning your greeting. 

“Really great stuff out there. Hey- do you happen to have a sist-” Tom smacks the back of his head before he can finish. 

“Jesus Tommy, guy can’t ask the lovely lady a question?” he rubs the back of his head, playfully throwing a jab at Tom. 

You giggle, grabbing Tom’s hand. “Where’s the rest of your family?” 

“I sent them back to the hotel love. Wouldn’t want to attract more attention.” He pulls you in for a hug. “Speaking of which, are your ready to head back to go meet them? If you’re tired we can always do it some other time, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you-” 

You cut him off with a kiss. “I’m fine Tommy. I just need to grab my things and talk to a lady outside who said she wants to sponsor me. I think she’s from Nike, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.” 

“Jesus Christ, you were right Tommy. She’s going to the Olympics. Ay, don’t forget me when you’re handing out tickets,” he points at you and then throws some keys up in the air. “I’ll go start the car, see you lovebirds in a bit.” 

Harrison makes his way out of the locker room, humming the anthem played at the Olympics. 

“You told him I’m going to the Olympics?” 

“I may have been bragging.” He pulls you in for another kiss and laughs. 

“I’ll see you outside. Take your time with Ms. Nike, she may want to just give you the company after seeing your talent.” 

You slap his shoulder and he pinches one of your thighs. “I’ll be back soon! Tell your family I can’t wait to see them!” 

You make your way out of the locker room, Tom staring at you all the while. 

He really didn’t exactly know how he got so lucky with you.

Gym buddies.

Changbin x Reader.

Word count:  2.8K

♡ Warnings ♡: smut, fingering, oral (f), spanking, hair pulling, overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex.

Second request [12) "you don't have to be gentle with me, I don't break easily”] from this list. Hope you enjoy it!!

You had seen him around at the gym a few days ago, your eyes trying to dissimulate how you practically ate him up, staring shamelessly at his big muscles through the mirror whenever he was lifting weights.

He was a regular there, just like you, so of course you were sure that he had seen you there, confirming that one day when you accidentally looked at him through the corner of your eye checking you out. He was biting his lip as he examined your body without knowing that you were staring at him, blushing when you were aware he had his eyes on you.

Since that day when you felt his piercing gaze on you, you started wearing tight clothes and staying more than what you used to after your routines hoping that he would approach you and talk to you, ask you on a date or something, anything.

But he never did, he always went to shower when he received a call at almost midnight. You always saw him picking up his phone at 11:40 pm, when the only people actually using the gym machinery were you and him, the quiet voices of the receptionists and music playing helped keep your mind distracted to the point where you stopped caring about your nameless gym buddy who wasn’t actually your buddy but that you still considered as one.

You sighed in defeat the fifth night he got a call, thinking that maybe he had a girlfriend to go back to at his home and that now he was off limits.

And since you lost interest in him, because in your mind that handsome stranger was already taken, you decided to change your routine hours. Again.

You turned off the alarm that indicated it was finally 9 pm, taking a towel and wiping the sweat off your forehead and looked around to the barely empty room. As usual, your 'gym buddy' was doing something in the machine he always used on thursdays, and at the other end of the place there was a couple flirting, the girl was giggling while the guy showed her his biceps.

You laughed, taking a sip of water from your bottle and walking to the lockers, taking your clean towel and walking to the showers ready to wash away all the gross fluids from your session.

The showers of the gym weren’t divided by gender, it was all a row of showers protected by walls and at the very back there was a sauna located that only vips were allowed to use, vips like yourself.

It was early, you could get in there and relax for a few minutes before driving home, so you went there instead of walking straight to the showers, closing the door behind you and closing your eyes when the room started to fill with steam.

The wooden door opened again, making you look in that direction alerted as to who was the person behind it, finding it difficult to see past all the steam that tried to escape through the door. It closed quickly, and soon, your gym buddy sat next to you, shirtless and probably naked under the towel wrapped around his waist.

When you realized who he was, your body tensed and you instantly looked away from him, closing your eyes tightly, mentally thankful that your cheeks were already hot from the steam to make it less obvious how much his presence affected you.

Trying too hard to ignore his existence, he seemed to have other plans in mind, clearing his throat to say something and interrupt the awkward silence between the two of you.

"Hey" his voice scared you at first, making you open your eyes to look at him. "I've seen you around here a lot. I'm Changbin, by the way."

He was looking at you through the steam, a kind smile on his face while he waited for your response to his meeting. You decided a simple nod would be too rude, so you finally opted to respond him.

"Nice to meet you, I'm glad to finally give a name to your face, gym buddy. You can call me Y/N" you answered, looking away from him and closing your eyes, trying your hardest to relax one more time.

Next to you, you heard the man hum, acknowledging your name. You spent a few minutes like that, feeling how he shamelessly looked at you up and down and was probably imagining how you looked under the towel.

Or at least that's what you wished he was doing, because thinking about him imagining what you looked like completely naked was turning you on, as much as you'd like to deny that. Fuck…

"Can I ask you something?" the question coming out of nowhere got your attention, and you opened your eyes to look at him with clear confusion drawn in your face. What could he probably want to ask you?

"Sure, ask ahead, Changbin" you blinked, you thought you saw his jaw tensing, but quickly made that thought to the side when he licked his beautiful lips to talk again.

"Why did you change the hours of your routine? I remember you used to arrive later than me and now when I get here you're halfway through your routine" his tone of voice lowered until the ending of his sentence was just a whisper. He noticed that you didn't spend the same time you used to, but you didn't know what to say now that he actually talked to you and brought it up.

"... I'd rather not talk about it. But why are you asking, do you miss me or something?" you asked him back, an eyebrow raised in a questioning way. He looked down at his hands resting on his thick thighs and sighed in defeat.

"I do, actually. I've been leaving earlier too" he admitted. That statement alone made you open your eyes wide.

"Yeah, sure, you're saying that you miss me but you're leaving earlier to spend more time with your girlfriend" you blurted.

Your hands flew to your mouth once you realized what you had said. You felt your heart shrinking and going pale. And just as quickly as you had said that, you stood up and made your way to the door, placing your hand on the handle without turning to look at Changbin's reaction.

Great, now you would have to look for another gymnasium to keep working out, your annual subscription to this one was all gone to waste and all of that because you weren’t thinking clear. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you, but that was impossible. The only solution was running out of there and never looking back, forget you even met Changbin.

You stepped out of there, making your way to the showers. You stepped inside a cubicle, letting a surprised noise when another body pressed against yours and trapped you.

Large hands on your waist made you turn, Changbin's lips lost no time and instantly kissed yours with intensity.

"I don't have a girlfriend…" he murmured, resting his forehead against yours and sighing. Your lips felt tingly, a little numb from the kiss he had just given you, and you finally smiled in relief when your mind processed his words.

"You have no idea how badly I wanted to hear you say those words" your arms rested around his shoulders, you pulled him closer again to return the kiss, this time being sweeter but still full with want, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips and play with yours until you both felt the lack of air in your lungs.

Changbin's body was pressed against you, close enough for you to feel his growing erection through the towel, making you blush at the contact. You were too flustered thinking about him that you didn't notice when his lips started traveling down on your neck, his hands firmly placed on your hips to keep you in place.

But you froze.

What were you thinking? This was a gym, the showers of a gym to be more exact, it was no place to be having sex.

As much as you also wanted Changbin to fuck you, you also were decent enough to wait to be somewhere else. "Changbin… Let's… let's stop, please" you pushed him away from you, his attentive eyes locking instantly with yours.

"I'm sorry, I understand if you don't want to continue, sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable" he apologized without even waiting for you to explain why you had asked him to stop.

"Changbin, I still want to do it, just… Not here. Let's go to my house, I live near, what do you say?" a smile on his face let you know he was fine with that and he walked out of your stall to get dressed. When you two were presentable again he followed you to your car to get to your place.

It was a quiet ride to your small department, Changbin rushed out of the car as soon as you parked to open your door with a kind smile adorning his face. You blushed at his act, making sure the car was safely locked and you walked to your home, Changbin followed you close behind.

Once you closed the door, Changbin tugged your arm and kissed you sweetly, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you. It made your heart swell, he was being really gentle and careful with you, and you appreciated the gesture.

But you'd seen that man working out, you'd been at the presence of his muscles and had seen how strong he was.

That was what you wanted, what you desired.

"Changbin" you separated from him, taking his face in your hands and looking at him with eyes full of lust "you don't have to be gentle with me, I don't break easily" you murmured, kissing his neck and taking his jacket off.

You heard him groan when you sucked on the skin of his neck, his pants getting tighter as his erection got harder, and he opted to stop losing time and give you what you wanted.

He turned you around, getting a surprised gasp out of your lips as he pushed your front against the door and pulled your joggers and panties down. You felt his hand snaking down through your torso, until his fingers found your aching sex. His fingers spreaded your folds, looking for that sensitive nub that would have your knees weak in no time.

You whimpered when Changbin found the objective, you moved in a bending position so you would be more comfortable. He removed his fingers from you, making you whine in complaint at the loss of stimulation, but soon those fingers were back touching you, feeling how he was making you feel.

He passed his fingers through your slit, making you look at him over your shoulder to find him kneeling, his face in front of your sex and his eyes incredibly dark, the view made you moan and when he stopped teasing your entrance and pushed a finger inside you, you closed your eyes and gasped deliciously.

Pumping his fingers in and out of you, you felt your orgasm building more and more as the volume of your moans and incoherent babbling also increased, and just when you thought he was going to let you cum, Changbin removed his fingers from you. You whined, looking at him once again.

Both of his hands on your ass, he separated your butt cheeks and his tongue came in contact with your desperate pussy.

Your legs trembled, so you allowed your weight to fall against the door, one of your hands moving behind you to grab his head and push him further towards you, his tongue sinking more into you, making your insides feel warm and wetter.

But that wasn't enough, his tongue was good but you needed him somewhere else.

"Changbin, please…" you whimpered. The man growled, but complied to your silent request by cocooning your clit with his plump lips, kissing you there gently.

You felt your orgasm again, you clenched around nothing, and even before you could warn Changbin that you were about to cum, he talked with a raspy voice "I know you're close. Cum for me, angel."

And you followed his order, your juices slipping down your legs. Changbin hurried to try his best and lick you clean, but your shaky legs got his attention first, you seemed so weak… his cock twitched from seeing you so defenseless, breathing hard against the door, with your cheek pressed against the cold material it was made of.

He couldn't resist anymore, pulling his clothes down enough to free his throbbing cock. Changbin passed the red head of his member through your pussy before allowing himself inside you, letting out the sexiest moan you'd ever heard a man make, the sound of him making you clench around him to see if he would make that sinful noise again.

And he did, this time accompanied with a "fuck, you're… So tight around me, angel" with his raspy voice, driving you crazy.

He was gripping your waist, keeping you in place when he started to move slowly.

Your legs were shaking and you got to the conclusion that the only reason you were still standing was because he was holding you, using your hole to find his sweet release.

A slap on your ass got your attention, making you jump and moan when you started feeling the stinging on your butt, turning your neck to see him caressing the place of the impact, the skin there starting to change color.

"Do it… Do it again" you demanded between moans. He smiled, the pace of his thrust were still a little slow but the force of his palm against your ass recompensed the roughness you wanted from him.

You were met with another slap, this time on the other side and you moaned a little louder, and then suddenly he was pulling on your hair to bring you to his chest. You'd never had your hair being pulled before, but it was hot. He did it carefully, but determined. The sudden pull coming out of nowhere surprised you.

He let go of your hair, tangling his arms with yours behind your arched back and his thrust started increasing in speed.

"A-ah! Please, go faster!" you babbled.

"You can barely stand…" firm thrust came with his words, "and you want me to go faster? You're… you're such a needy baby" somehow, he managed to hold both of your arms with one of his and his free hand snaked down to your torso, pulling your shirt up and squeezing your boobs.

"Yes! I'm so needy f-for you… I need you Changbin… ah!" a pinch on your nipple distracted you.

"Please make me cum, make me f-feel good" you cried out.

He complied to your wishes, the new rhythm making you jump up and down faster and his cock inside you brushed against that sweet spot that had your mind completely blank. It didn't take much longer for you to cum again, your walls becoming tighter and making it harder for Changbin to hold his own release as well.

Everything felt so good, his fingers playing with your nipple and his dick buried deep inside you, it was all too much to process and your brain felt like static, you didn't even realize your eyes were closed and that you were cumming again.

"F-fuck, Y/N… I'm gonna cum soon, can I come inside you?" he asked, irregular breathing and tone agitated from all the effort he was putting on making you feel good.

Still recovering from your own high, you nodded at him and he finally allowed his climax to paint your insides a hot white, his thrusts stopping, both of you trying to catch your breath.

You stayed like that for a long, eternal minute, his seed feeling so warm inside you, it was a hot sensation, you liked it.

And then he finally pulled out completely from you, looking how his seed came out of your used hole and staring in fascination at the mess between your legs.

Noticing how your legs were inestable, Changbin took you in his arms and carried you to your comfy couch, sitting you on his lap.

"I have to admit, you're tougher than what you look like" he chuckled silently, making you blush.

"I'll take that as a compliment. You're pretty strong yourself, the gym really paid off for you, buddy" you answered him, your hand traveling to his bicep and squeezing it while you bit your lip. Now it was his time to blush slightly.

"How do you feel? Can you stand up or do you need to rest a little more?" his worried tone made your heart turn inside you, he seemed so preoccupied for you, it was very sweet.

"I'm good. We should have a round two in the shower" your eyebrows went up and down with the suggestion you made, making him giggle cutely.

"If we keep going you won't be able to walk or talk tomorrow, Y/N" Changbin warned, pinching your thigh playfully..

"Really? Now I wanna see if that's true."

"I'm not a liar, angel. Come on, let's go for that round two then."

Silence

Timothy Thatcher x Female Reader Rating: Mature (Minors DNI) Word Count: 1493 Warnings: Fluff, smut, one bed. Summary: Tim finally tells reader why he acts like he does. A/N: This is a continuation to this drabble. You should read it before reading Silence.

We didn’t talk that morning. When I woke up, Tim was already out of bed and nowhere to be found, so I followed through with my routine.

The cheery, blonde receptionist still sat on the front desk, happily greeting everyone that stopped by.

“Good morning, Miss. Did you sleep well?” She asked when I approached her.

“Like a baby. Do you have any news on the snowstorm?”

“It picked up during the night, the roads are still closed and they have no idea when they are opening again. The news this morning said it might get worse, actually.”

“Damn, guess I will be staying more than one night here.” I laughed. “Do you think you could do me a favour? If it’s possible, could I get an extra bed in my bedroom?”

“We are packed, but I will see what we can do, Miss.” Anna, I could finally see the name on her ID plate, said with her sickly sweet voice. God, I wanna hug her.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Breakfast was uneventful, except for the fact that I met Marcel and Fabian at the buffett.

“Where’s Tim?” Marcel asked after we sat down to eat.

“No clue, he was already gone when I woke up.”

“He didn’t text you or anything?”

“Are we talking about the same person?” I asked as I shoved a piece of hash browns inside my mouth, “you guys know Tim hates me, he only works and travels with me because the company makes him.”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Fabian opened his mouth for the first time. The ironic look I had on made him continue. “He just… he has a hard time opening up.”

Yeah, right.

All of our phones beeped at the same time.

Text message from: Emily H. (NXT Prod)

The show is cancelled. Please stay safe in your hotels and send us the invoice so the company can reimburse you. I’ll hit back with new info as soon as they come out.

“Time to figure out how to have fun in a snowstorm, boys.”

Turns out, the hotel is way bigger than we thought and has a lot to do during a snowstorm. We hit the gym after breakfast and after training, we ended up finding out that the hotel has a huge gaming room, a cinema, a sauna, a big library, and they were even offering cooking classes. Marcel wearing an apron was such a sight.

It was past 7p.m. when I arrived, and Tim was already back in the room. He sat on the bed, a book in his hands and his headphones on. He didn’t acknowledge me.

It was when I left the bathroom after my shower that he finally talked to me for the first time that day.

“Didn’t see you come in.” he said, his voice a little louder as usual.

“Yeah, got back like, forty minutes ago.”

“Did you have a good day?”

I actually stopped putting my clothes back onto my suitcase to look at him before answering. He never asked how my day was.

“Yeah. Marcel and Fabian are here too, we spent the day together. The hotel offers a lot of stuff. Did you have a nice day?”

“Yeah.”

And silence fell upon us again. I had just finished getting my things in order and gotten my skincare done when I started feeling hungry. Deciding against leaving the room, it was so, so warm inside, I decided to order in.

“Hey,” I called Tim, “I’m getting room service. Do you want anything?”

“Sure, a cheeseburger is fine.”

“With fries?”

“Sure.”

We ate in silence, we watched whatever movie was on in silence, we fell asleep in silence.

The following days we were stuck in the hotel followed the same routine. I would wake up and Tim would be gone, I would chat with Anna, and save her from getting her heart broken by Marcel, him, Fabian and I would have breakfast, hit the gym and explore whatever the hotel had to offer. When I had gotten back to the room, Tim would already be there reading or watching something, we would exchange three words, eat and sleep.

Today, for some reason, I wasn’t blessed by the gods of sleep. As much as I tried not to, I kept tossing and turning, just waiting for the moment Tim would wake up and complain.

“Can’t sleep?” his hoarse voice came from behind me.

“No, sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t, can’t sleep either.” he got up as I turned around to look at him. “Do you want some tea?”

“It’s…” I looked at my phone to check the time “2 a.m., room service is not working anymore.”

“I’m making it. Peppermint tea helps you sleep, want it or not?”

“Sure…”

He comes back from the tiny kitchen five minutes later, with two mugs in hand, and hands me one.

We drink the tea in silence, and I take it as my cue to ask him the same question I did on our first night here.

“Why do you hate me, Tim?”

He sighs and takes his left hand to his head, disheveling his already messy hair. “I don’t hate you.”

“Okay… then why do you strongly dislike me?”

“I don’t have negative feelings towards you, I think you are a nice person. Why do you keep asking me this?”

I sat my mug on the side table and turned to face him, laughing. “Tim, are you serious? You barely look at me, you don’t say more than two words to me, and when you do, you get annoyed with me and shuts me off mid-sentence. I know I’m annoying but c’mon. Have I ever done anything to you?”

“No, you have not.”

“Then why do you treat me like this? I know you are a quiet dude, but I’ve known you since your Ringkampf days, I’ve seen you around your friends.”

Tim sighed again and laughed a defeated laugh. And nothing. Five minutes passed and, like usual, he didn’t dignify me with an answer.

“See, this is what I’m talking about. You alwa-”

“I strongly like you.” he cut me off, raising his eyebrows as if he wanted to cue me in on a secret.

“Huh?”

“Since that day we met backstage at PROGRESS.”

“Then why didn’t you do anything?”

“You were dating Brookes at the time and he was my friend, why would I act on it?”

“If it serves as consolation, Chris used to cheat on me all the time.”

Silence fell upon us once again, but this time it is different. Tim’s face is stony as he stares at me, his eyes are softer than usual, and I can see that he is processing what I had just revealed. Chris and Tim were good friends, but Tim is also known for his thoughts on how women should be treated.

Once again, I took it in my hands to break the silence.

“Then why don’t you do something about it now?” I raise my eyebrows like he had done previously.

Tim’s lips were on mine in no time. They are hungry, but soft at the same time, I can feel the need coming from them. His touch feels like how I had always imagined, it is strong and rough, and he cradles my face like he never wanted me to go away.

Eventually, we separate to catch some air and I see the need in his eyes. Tim grabs me by my arms and positions me on his lap. He attacks my neck, kissing and biting it, and he moves his ministrations to the skin of my chest that is exposed on the camisole I’m wearing.

I can feel his hard on poking my core, and I roll my hips around to tease him. I can feel how affected he is by it, as he curses after every shift of my hips.

It gets unbearable after he starts meeting me halfway.

“Tim, this is great and all,” I moan as he bites the sweet spot behind my ear, “but I need you inside me, now.”

We waste no time taking our clothes off, as Tim lowers his shorts down enough to take his cock out and I just shove my panties to the side.

He is thicker than I had anticipated, and it takes me some time to get used to it. We fall into a steady rhythm, his thrusts always meeting me halfway.

I could sense he was near his end, just like me, when he picked up speed. I lost it after one particularly strong stroke on my g-spot, having to bite his shoulder so I wouldn’t wake up the whole hotel. He kept going, taking a second, earth shattering orgasm from me, his own coming right after.

Tim held me closer, tighter. We laughed and kissed, and our night went on like we knew best: in silence, enjoying each other.

Moving on from Routine, let’s look at Emotional Self-Care. This is Self-Care that you use to improve your emotional stability. This is what Emotional Self-Care can take the form of (though I do not use all of these; I will talk more about the ones I use):

Comfort Food

Taking a “mental health day”

Napping and/or Sleeping In

Binge-Watching Comfort Shows/Reading a Comfort Book/Listening to a Comfort Podcast/Comfort Music/Comfort Video Games/Etc.

Long Baths

Venting

Reflecting on the Good

Meditation

Taking a Walk Outside or Hitting a Treadmill

Turning away from Social Media

Lighting a scented candle

Giving Gifts

Crying/Screaming/Emotional Outburst

Breaking Breakables

Playing with and/or Petting a Pet or Animal

Telling Other People You Don’t Want To Interact With Them (Right Now)/Boundary Setting

Taking care of Plants

Journaling

Cleaning

Treating Yourself (non-food)

Every time I googled “emotional self-care”, I got some things like “set boundaries”, “learn to say no”, and “create a support system” – all of which are very good things, but they don’t really fit the quick regulation criteria that I’m going for here.

So, which of these do I personally use? Comfort Food, Mental Health Days, Sleeping In, Comfort Media, Venting, Reflecting on the Good, Meditation, Hitting a Treadmill, Scented Candle, Giving Gifts, Crying, Animals, Boundary Setting, Cleaning, and Treating Myself.

I’d take care of plants but right now I don’t have a good space for plants.

I’ll look at comfort food last, because I have a list of food.

Mental Health Days, I usually try to schedule ahead of time, around days or times I know are going to be hectic. I know that after a convention, for example, I need “cooldown days”, so usually I will take the following Monday-Wednesday off from work to cooldown from the convention.

If I don’t know ahead of time, I do feel comfortable enough to call in sick, but I vastly prefer being able to plan it, simply because of who I am as a person. It is sometimes a necessity. Sometimes there is just too much going on, and I need to step away from everything. Usually on these days, I will sleep in, or sleep for most of the day, with the promise to go back to normal tomorrow – and that is how it should be.

These are tricks to put you back in line in caring for yourself! To get you back to normal!

Now, most weekends I do sleep in a little. I wake up every day at 6am, so on weekends, I will absolutely let myself sleep in to like, 9-11. It’s a good thing I have this blog on a schedule.

Binge-Consuming Comfort Media: I do not consider this the same as observing New Media, because often for me that is a Personal Self Care, and not necessarily Emotional Self Care. It can be, but more often than not, it gets my thinking fired up and engages me in a wholly different fashion. For example, I consider playing Final Fantasy XII to be a “comfort game”, but I will not consider playing Elden Ring for the first time to be “comfort”, so much as Personal, because the former I have already done, while the latter is something new and is creating new experiences for me. One regulates my emotions, the other does not do so in a foreseeable fashion. In new games, I do not know the experiences I will have, whereas with old games, I can predict them.

I will usually use Binge-Consuming Media in downtime that I have nothing else to fill, but do not have the energy to try something new right then (usually with the promise that I will return to new things in the near future, usually the following day when this happens on a weekend, or the next weekend if this happens on Sunday). Binge-Consuming Media also tends to occur normally on Weekday Evenings, as I tend to lack any desire for new media after work. It thus helps me to stay in a calm mood throughout the night, and prepares me for the next day of work by maintaining mood, rather than changing it.

Venting has to be done with care; I have friends I can vent to, but the vast majority of them only end up aggravating me more when I vent to them. Venting is something I tend to reserve for after I’ve figured out what I’m going to do, and I just need someone else to know my pain, because very rarely are people actually able to give me decent advice. Yet, venting is still useful because it lets me finally express it, and lets other people into my life, which is healing, and allows me to move forward without feeling like I’m keeping a secret.

Akin to that, reflecting on the good is a bit more of a solitary action, but it’s useful to remember that a “bad day” isn’t a bad life. To think of the people who love me, to think of the good things that did happen, even amidst the bad, and to remember there are more good things to come. After a particularly bad day at work, remembering good things, good phone calls with customers, and just good people, is always helpful, and can prepare me to continue through the rest of the day.

Meditation is something I try to do every day, and I do feel that it helps me focus on the moment, as well as helps me work through my thoughts when I’m not meditating.

Back when gyms were safe, hitting the treadmill was great for days I just couldn’t fucking convince myself to do my weight training. It still got me in the gym, it still got me exercising, and it helped me beat out the anger while listening to a podcast or music. I felt like I could breathe. I miss this, a lot, and I look forward to being able to return to this, or getting the “Just Dance” games for my home so I can do a similar thing, without going to the gym. I was then usually able to resume weight lifting the next day – and it kept me from breaking my streak of going to the gym, back in the day.

Aromatherapy is just a thing. I enjoy it, it helps me, and I love candles, haha.

Giving Gifts is also something I like to do. Making other people happy, makes me happy, and this is often a surefire way to do that. It can be as simple as a bit of chocolate, it doesn’t have to be anything extravagant. Of course, I have to make sure I am financial stable enough to do that.

Crying – when I need to. Sometimes I will have to kind of force it, by putting on a movie I know will make me cry, because just bursting into tears from stress without additional stimuli can be hard, but once it’s done, it is so relieving, and it allows my brain to start to function again without feeling as much in a daze.

It’s true I do have pets, and they’re kind of around me everyday, so this is more of a routine one – the animals are a constant source of comfort, but if you don’t have pets, visiting a pet store may be beneficial to give their animals a bit of affection, or going to an animal shelter. Or perhaps watching cute animal videos if those aren’t options.

Boundary Setting is also important. While sometimes, it can be good to help others when you’re going through a thing – I find it helpful sometimes – at other times it is just too much. Being clear on that, and also giving your friend some idea of when to “check in”, is good. It also lets your friend know a bit of a time period, so they know it isn’t a permanent block on conversing. Being open and clear about your situation can only do you good when it comes to your friends – and checking in with them when you’re ready!

Cleaning is oddly enough something I do when I’m preparing for something that is Good. I feel like I must cleanse the area in preparation of the New Good Thing. I will do this when I buy a new gaming console, or a long-awaited game, for instance. It makes things feel fresh and rejuvenated. It lets me walk into the New Thing as if it is a New Thing, and it starts it off on good footing. Some of the anxiety and anticipation of it, is quelled.

Treating Myself, when it’s non-food items, is usually things like clothing for me, or new PJs lately. I will also invest in books I plan to read, one day, eventually, cute Star Wars things, shows and/or movies to watch that are new, or things that generally speaking bring joy into my life. Sometimes emotional regulation, is also about reward. If you’re doing good in your life, you absolutely SHOULD be rewarded for it! Otherwise, why bother with balance and moderation? Why not live a hedonistic lifestyle? That would be far more pleasant if balance and moderation don’t have rewards. Not all emotional regulation is just to stop being sad, it’s also to be vindicated and celebrate good events. Celebrating IS regulating, when it calls for it, obviously. So I’m not encouraging here spending your money on whims because you are sad, but spending it more when you’re happy, and doing good.

And then we get to Comfort Foods. What do I use for comfort foods?

Chipotle Gouda Pasta Salad

Lime-Chipotle Pasta Salad

“Chicken” Fried Steak (Scare quotes because I’m a vegetarian so it’s fake meat)

“Tuna” Salad

Cheesecake, particularly raspberry white chocolate, or turtle.

Ice cream, particularly from Cold Stone, but usually either Rocky Road or Raspberry with Chocolate Chunks. There’s also Love Potion #9 which I have to drive a significant distance for….

Extra Lattes (note the extra – I already have these planned in with my meal plans).

Hot Chocoalte

Potatoes O’Brien and Gravy

The idea behind Comfort Food: Eating tasty food often restores a mood, or at least puts us in a better mindset. They aren’t always the healthiest things, though they aren’t necessarily unhealthy. They have to be done in moderation, as you see I indicate with lattes it’s “extra” lattes that go on the comfort food side. I usually have two decaf lattes a week, one on Wednesday, and one on Friday.

Comfort Foods are for a “limited time”. An extra latte means I don’t get one the following day, or I don’t get one every single day of the week. I take the comfort it offers when it’s needed, and resume my usual drinking habits.

Things like Pasta Salad are for weeks when I need a bit of help, or when I’ve done good, because they’re multiple serving things. So like, my birthday week, eating a pasta is good. Or a week where everything went to hell, and I can’t focus on making something “new” and I just need to eat – but then it’s right back to normality after that week. This is not have pasta for an entire month, this is a way to set intentions, and work on orienting myself back to normal with food I love, and food I can make with my eyes closed.

Single-serving things, like cheesecake or hot chocolate, are usually Reward self-care. Like fuck yeah, I did great, I should give myself a little treat. It encourages my good behavior, and does not become an indulgence. It also ends up “planned”, and so the rest of the meals work around that indulgence so I don’t go overboard with it, either.

Knowing what foods, and what I use them for, helps me to use them when they will be most beneficial for me. Things like “extra lattes” also makes me think: Do I really want to do this now, or wait until the day I’m going to have it? Is there a reason I need it now? What will I do after I have it? How does this impact everything else in the balance?

So these are kind of the “quick trick” emotional self-care tools I use. Obviously, you should try to have a steady way of regulating your emotions, but shit happens. Cars break down, work days suck, friends are angry, people die…we need to have tools to get “back to normal”, or close enough to normal.

And you should also, absolutely, take time to treat yourself in self-care! If you don’t reward yourself, what’s the point in being “balanced”, and not just living a hedonistic lifestyle? That’s why comfort food as rewards is a thing! It’s why you can use these as rewards, if it helps, for doing good!

These are just what I do, and what I suggest. These are ideas to get you thinking about what you could put on a list, and how that could help you. If these same ideas work for you, great! If not, you just have to feel out yourself to determine what will help you! Brainstorm with your loved ones!

Take Me With You

(For my @shadowhunterbingo square: Traveling | Jimon, Rated Teen, referenced alcohol but no archive warnings/other warnings) (Read on AO3) “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Simon insists. “It was one stupid letter.”

“The letter wasn’t stupid,” Jace says, already regretting his appointment to this job. “It was a death threat, by someone who’s sent multiple things to your unlisted apartment.”

“Well, no one knows where I live on the road, which is where I’ll be for the next three months,” Simon points out.

“Oh, yes, the total inability to track you from a list of cities you’re going to and the dates and times you’ll be there. You’re right, no one will ever find you that way,” Jace says, his tone dripping with sarcasm and more than a little condescending. Simon isn’t a no-name, but he isn’t famous-famous either, and Jace hoped that’d make him a little less awful to put up with than Jace’s usual high-profile assignments. So far it’s the opposite - Simon isn’t taking this seriously at all, which is somehow more frustrating than too much importance being put on minor perceived threats.

Simon sighs. “Fine.” It certainly doesn’t sound like he’s fine with it, but Jace isn’t here to argue. He’s here to do a job.

“Great,” Jace says. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

---

That ends up being a complete lie. Of course, when Jace first imagined blending into the background of Simon’s tour life he hadn’t taken into consideration the fact that Simon drove his own van, which would just be the two of them for extended periods of time.

Jace can tell that he’s putting a damper in the way Simon normally functions during his tours, mostly because he’s quiet while they drive. Then he’ll say something, start to ramble, catch himself rambling, and fall abruptly silent again in a repeating pattern.

“Sorry if I’m cramping your style,” Jace says after one of these repetitions, speaking loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background.

“You’re not,” Simon insists.

Jace is dubious. “What would you be doing if you were alone?” Jace asks.

Simon doesn’t even hesitate before answering, “Scream-singing at the top of my lungs with the windows down. It’s like, my tried-and-true road trip routine.”

“...so do it. Don’t let me stop you,” Jace says.

“My manager hates it because he’s convinced one of these days I’ll end up losing my voice before a show. It’s probably for the best I’m not,” Simon says before falling silent again.

Jace doesn’t push it, nor does he comment when Simon starts to sing to a song that comes on about half an hour later, his voice growing louder and louder until all the windows are down and he’s shouting lyrics into the cool night air.

Jace has to fight the urge to join him. Normally he doesn’t have an issue staying focused on a job but Simon has this disarming way of making Jace want to relax around him. Somehow what he thought would be his easiest job to date continues to throw surprising complications his way.

Still, he keeps his mouth shut and enjoys Simon’s singing as they continue driving into the night.

---

Watching Simon with his fans is nerve-wracking. There’s no telling who might be a threat, not when everyone seems so down-to-earth, much like Simon himself. There aren’t any obviously obsessive fangirls and normal tells like knowing too many personal details is just the norm, with multiple people casually asking Simon about how his Bubbie Helen is doing or about the cat he left at home with Clary during his tour, or the most recent book he’s been reading and chatting about online. It’s difficult to pick out a potential stalker when everyone knows what Jace would typically consider more personal details than usual about Simon.

Jace watches these pre- and post-show encounters with a feeling more like he’s observing conversations between old friends rather than a musician and his fans, signatures and photo ops aside. Simon knows some of them by name, remembers birthdays mentioned over social media or live chats, and even recalls previous conversations. It’s impressive.

Dressed in plain clothes so he blends in with the crowd, Jace grows increasingly impressed with Simon the more time he spends with him. Plenty of people claim to be humble, but few often are in practice. Not Simon. Simon is everything he told Jace when they first met. He’s the same way with his fans that he is in private with Jace, which is the same way he is with his family and friends - Simon’s just, well, Simon, honestly and earnestly and unapologetically.

It’s refreshing. It’s also just another thing for Jace to push to the back of his mind, because he doesn’t need to like the guy - he just needs to protect him. Simon looks up from the table he’s signing CDs at and shoots Jace a beaming smile, and Jace has to actively force himself not to smile back and simply nod his head in acknowledgment instead.

“It’s an assignment, Herondale. Get your shit together,” Jace mutters to himself from the corner of the room. It’s a reminder he repeats more often over the upcoming weeks than he’s comfortable admitting.

---

“Please,” Jace begs after the first two weeks of shows. “I will pay for a better hotel. Let me pay for a better hotel.”

Simon is shaking his head in response before Jace finishes the request.

“Why?!” Jace glances critically around the room. “Do you want to get murdered in a shady motel? Just because I can keep you alive doesn’t mean we have to actively test it every night when we could have a door that doesn’t look like my 11-year-old brother could kick it in.”

“You have a brother?” Simon asks, ignoring everything else Jace said as he tosses his duffel bag (because Simon doesn’t even have a proper suitcase) onto a bed Jace feels the instinctive need to run a blacklight over.

Jace hesitates to answer because this is a job and he isn’t meant to share personal information about himself with his assignment. It’s strange because normally the people he’s tasked to protect are such self-absorbed assholes they barely spare Jace a second glance, let alone casual conversation.

He’s aware that the pause he takes after what should be a simple question is way too long when Simon frowns, brows pinching together.

“Two brothers, actually. One older, one younger, and a sister,” Jace finally decides to share. It’s all he intends on saying, not wanting to be rude and not answer at all, but when Simon brings up his own sister and keeps talking, keeps asking curious, harmless questions, Jace finds himself answering without thinking.

Simon is easy to talk to - maybe a little too easy to talk to, because the next thing they know it’s 1am and they need to be up and back on the road at 6.

“Get some sleep, Lewis,” Jace says finally, taking a few extra minutes to secure the door before doing one last perimeter sweep. When he gets back he pretends he doesn’t notice Simon, still awake, hastily close his eyes and pretend to sleep the second Jace gets back in the room.

---

After the third week, Jace insists that staying at nicer hotels is a matter of security and finally convinces Simon to pull into the parking lot of a proper hotel. One with room service instead of vending machines, plus a gym and a pool. Jace tells himself it’s a matter of security as well, and not a reaction to Simon complaining about having several nights of terrible sleep and some back and neck pain from the old, cheap mattresses.

Jace certainly doesn’t correct Simon’s assumption that this is covered in the contract when in reality Jace is fronting the extra cost himself. After all, this is as much for his own benefit as it is for Simon’s, right?

That’s what he tells himself as he opens up more around Simon as well, sharing a drink or two when Simon insists (never anything enough to impair his judgment, and only ever when they’re back in a room for the remainder of the night), telling a few more personal stories, and… flirting?

Jace isn’t sure, but occasionally when Simon impulsively runs into an ice cream shop in a new city and gets a cone for each of them, or points out a storefront display with a leather jacket he thinks Jace might like, or leans his shoulder into Jace while laughing at something sarcastic Jace says… yeah, sometimes Jace gets the feeling that Simon might actually like him.

Then Jace just as quickly tells himself that it’s just Simon being nice, because Simon is nice, and because of course Simon’s going to be on good terms with the guy he’s stuck with 24/7 for two months. Jace is working for Simon, and their relationship is strictly professional, however pleasant it may also be.

It’s that hard line Jace knows they won’t cross that allows him to continue to open up more, because Simon’s safe. He’ll never see the guy again when all of this is over.

“You’re a good person, Jace,” Simon says one night after a lengthy conversation.

“...what?” Jace isn’t expecting that.

“You know that, right?” Simon’s tone is just shy of insistent, and certainly not rhetorical.

“Why do you say that?” Jace asks instead of agreeing, because… well, because he doesn’t know that. He tries, but he’s made some shitty decisions in his past, and hurt a lot of people, intentionally or not. And Simon doesn’t even know him, so Jace really doesn’t know where this is coming from.

“Just… the way you talk about yourself sometimes. Like you always have something to prove, or make up for... or like you have to justify everything you say. Sometimes I get the feeling you don’t think very highly of yourself even when you’re acting like God’s gift to mankind,” Simon adds with more accurate insight than Jace is comfortable with.

And now Jace really doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What are you, a philosopher now?” Jace mutters, still avoiding any sort of direct commentary on Simon’s way-too-close-to-home observation. “Go to sleep, Simon. I don’t need you too tired to focus on the road tomorrow.”

Simon looks like he’s going to argue but doesn’t in the end, leaving Jace alone with his thoughts in the newly settling silence of the hotel room.

It feels surprisingly pleasant to hear those affirmations from Simon, and Jace considers for the briefest moment what it’d be like to just be friends with Simon outside of their circumstances, to have these discussions and delve deeper into both of their pasts, humoring more of Simon’s personal questions and--

--and everything he can’t let this turn into over the next few weeks. Fuck.

Maybe there’s some harm in opening up after all.

---

They’re a little over halfway through the three-month tour when Jace realizes that perhaps his harmless crush on Simon is stronger than he realized. Jace watches from his usual spot in the corner as Simon signs CDs and sells band t-shirts and poses for photos, which is what he always does. But with every flirtatious laugh and every arm Simon drapes over someone’s shoulder or wraps around someone’s waist, Jace feels the desire to pull Simon away... and it isn’t because he’s in danger. It’s because Jace is jealous.

Jace grows sullen at the realization, arms crossed in front of him as he forces himself to watch Simon with his fans, because this is his job. The more he watches the more he doesn’t even think Simon realizes he’s doing it. Jace knows what active, intentional flirting looks like, but this is just Simon being his natural charming self, and Jace isn’t sure if that makes the whole thing better or worse.

Because it starts to dawn on him with a bit more meaning now that the way Simon’s been with him is the way Simon is with everyone. Jace just gets to experience it more often than everyone else right now. That doesn’t make their conversations special. It doesn’t make Jace anything special to Simon. And hell, maybe it’s just been a while since Jace spent this much time with someone else, too. Maybe he should work on writing off his own motivations as easily as he’s writing off Simon’s because his feelings are far from professional right now.

When the crowd disperses and Jace goes to help Simon wrap up his gear and load it back into the van (something that’s become routine for them, though not strictly in Jace’s list of expected duties) Jace is quieter than usual.

“Everything alright?” Simon asks, catching the shift in mood.

“Yeah. Fine,” Jace says curtly.

Simon doesn’t look like he believes him but doesn’t press the topic as they toss the last of the equipment into the van and head out.

---

The nicer Simon is toward him, the more closed-off Jace gets. He’s quiet during dinners Simon insists on paying for, stops sharing so much about himself when they do talk, and when Simon gives Jace a guitar pick he fashioned into a necklace for him Jace pockets it with a muttered ‘thanks’ without putting it on. He doesn’t have the heart to totally push Simon away, but he can’t keep growing closer to him knowing it’s all going to end in three weeks.

Jace wears the necklace every day but he keeps it tucked underneath his shirts where Simon can’t see.

Simon eventually stops trying to talk to him entirely, and they spend more and more time in uncomfortable silences. Sometimes Simon insists he needs privacy to work on his music and Jace sits at the end of the hallway of their hotel room listening to the faded sounds of Simon’s strumming.

There are three weeks left in Jace’s assignment when he gets the call that the police managed to track the letters to a girl back in New York: she’s in custody and getting a restraining order put against her, and Jace can come back as soon as he arranges transportation.

Jace hangs up the phone feeling surprisingly upset. This is great news for Simon, and he should be happy for him if nothing else, but that means this is the last night he’ll have to spend with Simon.

The last night he’ll get to spend with Simon.

“Hey Simon, good news. I just got a call from Luke and they tracked down your mystery stalker. You’ll get all the details once you’re back home but they’re already putting the restraining order into place, so you’re good to go.”

“What? That’s amazing!” Simon grins automatically, but it falls back into a frown just as quickly. “Does that mean you…?” his words trail off in question.

“I’ll be able to leave in the morning,” Jace confirms.

“Guess you’ll be happy to get out of here,” Simon says, his smile entirely gone.

“I do miss New York,” Jace carefully avoids the answer he knows Simon’s fishing for. The lie he should give, but can’t bring himself to.

Simon looks Jace up and down, his gaze finally resting on Jace’s face for a long couple of seconds, searching for something there before turning away without another word.

---

Jace knows he shouldn’t go to the show, but he does. He hangs in the back, a real drink in hand now that he’s no longer on duty, and listens to Simon sing the songs Jace knows by heart now. Jace knows from experience standing by the side of the stage that there’s no way Simon can make out any faces where Jace currently sits back by the bar. He plans on leaving before the end, before the lights come on and Simon knows he was there.

He’s a few drinks in when he hears Simon break his usual format.

“How does everyone feel about me trying out a new song I’ve been working on?” Simon asks. The crowd claps and cheers, and Jace shifts in his seat to fully face the stage. “This is a song about feeling a connection with someone, and not knowing when things went wrong, only that they did. And wondering if maybe it was all in your head the whole time...”

Jace feels his throat tighten at those words. He doesn’t have to be a genius to piece together the lyrics Simon starts to sing, fitting them to their lives the past few months, the hope of getting to know someone you’re starting to like, the confusion of being shut out, the uncertainty of wondering if they ever felt the same way you did or if they were just humoring you.

Jace knows Simon well enough to know that this isn’t a coincidence. It can’t be.

Against his better judgment, Jace stays. He stays until the set is over and the lights come on and Simon looks out around the crowd and makes direct eye contact with him.

Because fuck it. He’s leaving in the morning, and if this is all for nothing then he’ll never see Simon again and it won’t matter. But if he’s right…

Jace hangs back, watching Simon smile and laugh and sign CDs and take photos, acutely aware of every time the musician’s eyes wander over to where Jace lingers by the bar. Outside of the fading buzz from the alcohol it almost feels normal: hanging back after the show, watching Simon and waiting for him to make his way over once the crowd disperses. Hell, even the butterflies in Jace’s stomach aren’t new.

“You’re here,” Simon says when he finally makes his way over. “I didn’t think you’d come, since… I mean…”

“I heard your new song,” Jace forces the words out before he can change his mind. “I’d say I liked it, but that seems like the wrong response from the guy who made you think you did something wrong.”

“Not everything is about you,” Simon argues, but the intent falls flat beneath the nervous tremor the words are spoken with.

“No,” Jace agrees easily. “But that song is.”

Simon hesitates, then sighs. “It is.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for not liking me, Jace. You were doing your job, that’s-”

“No. I’m sorry I was going to leave without telling you that I like you. I thought I’d leave and you’d never see me again, that it’d be pointless to get attached. I thought you were just… being nice. Because you’re a good person.” The words spill out of Jace before he can overthink them.

“You like me,” Simon repeats incredulously. “That totally makes sense with, you know, the way you completely stopped talking to me.”

Jace can hear the anger in Simon’s voice and winces slightly. Just because it’s entirely deserved doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“I figured it’d be easier to walk away once this was all over if we weren’t as friendly.” It’s still a shitty thing to have done, and Jace wouldn’t blame Simon for holding it against him. But after hearing that song he couldn’t walk away with Simon thinking it was over anything he did wrong. No matter the cost to Jace’s pride, Simon deserves that much. “And… maybe I was a little afraid that if I got much closer I’d want to cross a line I knew I couldn’t.”

“So you felt it too?” Simon’s words and expression are full of so much hope that Jace almost panics again. What if he isn’t half the person Simon thinks he is after getting to know him in this little bubble of theirs from the past few months? What if he messes this up?

...what if he doesn’t?

“I did,” Jace finally admits. “I still do. And I know I probably ruined any chance I had before, but if I haven’t fucked things up too badly, maybe once you’re back in New York we could meet up for coffee?”

Simon smiles, brighter than the house lights that fill the small venue now.

“Or… or you could stay with me for the last few shows? I wasn’t just being nice for the sake of being nice - I like you, Jace. I changed my hotel routine for you! I wouldn’t do that for just anyone. I don’t know if you have to go back right away for work, or something, but if you don’t I definitely wouldn’t mind the company. Your company.”

Jace considers it for a few long moments, then nods. It’s fitting, he thinks, to drop the formalities and the professional distance in the same setting he started to fall for Simon in. The same setting in which Simon started to fall for him, despite Jace’s best efforts to dissuade him, only this time with no excuses to hold him back. And if Simon’s willing to give him an actual shot after everything, he’d be a fool not to take it.

“Well, I can’t very well leave you to lug all your equipment around by yourself, can I?” Jace says, smiling. “Let me check back in with the office tomorrow morning but I don’t have anything scheduled. It shouldn’t be an issue.”

There’s a pause then, the air between them filled with an almost electric buzz of anticipation. Simon takes the first step closer, bridging the gap between them. There’s no questioning what Simon’s thinking when his eyes dart down to Jace’s lips and back up to meet his gaze again before speaking.

“Can I-”

Before Simon can finish, Jace’s lips are already on his in response. It’s slow and tentative, with each of them feeling the other out, but it’s nice. It’s really nice. When they pull away after a few moments Simon can’t keep the smile off his face. “That was even better than I imagined.”

Jace quirks an eyebrow, smirking fully now. “You imagined us kissing?”

“Shut up and help me load the van.”

The familiar banter and Simon’s easy smile are such an immediate comfort for Jace that he can’t help the light laugh he gives in response. As Simon looks back at Jace it’s with an expression so soft and full of kindness that Jace knows now isn’t the same look he reserves for everyone else.

Jace knows it’s a look reserved only for him this time - and with any luck, for many more times to come.

five. similar routines

oikawa tooru x fem langa!reader

(hq x sk8 the infinity)

warnings: spelling mistakes, swearing, 2k+ words, u have langa’s blue hair sorry 

gen masterlist.            “snow” masterlist.

"you know, oikawa-san.." she started off with a sheepish hum "yes?" oikawa hummed with a smile 

"i thought you were only picking me up so we can walk together." she said 

"exactly. that's why im here" oikawa said with a chuckle 

"so.. why are you in my room so early in the morning?" she deadpanned as she looked at him, as he sat on the foot of her bed "you're here way too early, oikawa-san" she said with a yawn

"well, i thought i'd get to know your mom too since she's also new to the neighbourhood ya know? shes very nice, by the way." oikawa chuckled out 

"my.. mom..?" she sent him a weirded out look 

"hey! not like that!" oikawa shrieked out "if anything, you'd be the only girl i'd have eyes for, FYI" he said with a wink. "oh.." y/n said with a laugh. "well, it's whatever oikawa-san." she said as she stood up from her bed. 

"did you eat breakfast yet? i feel like you have since you're already dressed up and all.." 

"but if you haven't, you can eat with me." she offered as she looked at him expectantly by the door 

"i ate already, but we can have coffee together" oikawa suggested with a smile as he followed her out "oh. but you'd have to make it since i suck at making coffee." she said "oh come on, you can't be that bad" oikawa mused as he ruffled her already messy blue locks 

"i'll drink whatever you make, don't worry" he said 

"okay but i warned you." she replied with a sigh 

oikawa sent one last fleeting glance to her room before he closed the door. he took note of the snowboards displayed by her wall and her skateboard so delicately situated by her desk. as well as the slightly messy collage of pictures stuck to her wall, most of them being pictures of a redhead. 

"oikawa-san?" she called out, looking back to see him lagging behind. 

"oh sorry, i'll be right there, y/n-chan!" 

"this is coffee is probably more bitter than a rotten ballsack." oikawa muttered to himself as he reluctantly gulped down the beverage.

"did you say something, oikawa-san?" y/n hummed with a smile

"i said this coffee is probably better than any drink there is!" he exclaimed

"really??" y/n asked with sparkling eyes "then i'll make you coffee every morning starting now!" she said with an excited smile

oikawa paled as he watched her relish in the compliment with a smile, it's almost as if she was oozing with sparkles."ah.. y-you don't have to.." oikawa stammered out with a quivering smile

"oh.." her smile fell

oikawa mentally gasped and hastily shook his head "no, i take that back!" he exclaimed "you can make me coffee! in fact, you can make me a gallon everyday if you want!" oikawa rambled with in a frantic tone

"okay, oikawa-san" she smiled "that would mean we'd meet every morning too, haha" she chuckled

oikawa froze at the statement and nodded with an accomplished smile. "yup. sounds good!" he said. he then turned away and dramatically cried a single tear. "so worth it.." he muttered as he sipped on the devil spawn of a drink.

"anyways, should we go?" she asked him. "i can leave my board if you want me to walk with you." she said "no it's fine, i'll just keep up" he said 

oikawa hummed to himself as he envisioned the two of them making their way to school. y/n was skating while he holds her hand, the both of them laughing and smiling like two protagonists of a shoujo manga. 

"let's go, oikawa-san" she called out to him as she puts on her converse instead of her school shoes and grabbed her board. 

"right." oikawa hummed as he happily followed behind, watching her get on the board and placing her phone in her pocket. "you'd keep up with me right?" she asks him "i won't go too fast if you want.." 

"no, no. go do your thing, i don't mind~" oikawa cooed with a smile 

"okay then." she sent him a smile before fully skating away and leaving a trail of dust behind. 

"eh?" oikawa blinked in confusion as he watched her skate in a baffling speed and jumping effortlessly over bumps and obstacles. it was so different from what he's seen the first time he saw her skating to school. he was almost certain she was just one of those mediocre skater girls that everyone likes solely because they're pretty. 

"oikawa-san, why aren't you following?!" she yelled from atleast a block away 

"huh? well i didn't think you'd leave me behind like that!" oikawa whined as he ran towards her with a huff "you said to do my thing!" she yelled back 

"right, right, my bad!" he laughed it off as he patted her back "i'll slow down if you want" she offered with a laugh 

"yeah, i'd love that.." 

from his front porch, iwaizumi watched them with an unamused look on his face. "flirting already?" he groaned "its seven in the morning, when will i ever get a break from this?" 

"wow, didn't think you two would get so close so quickly" hanamaki teased as he pointed to y/n who was fixing the nets 

"um can someone help me put this up-" 

"oh that? it was pretty easy" oikawa shrugged it off with a smug grin "she just couldn't resist me and my charms, ya know?" 

"i'll do it for you, don't worry!" oikawa cut her off as he skipped towards her and proceeded to put the nets up himself 

hanamaki sweat dropped as he watched the brunette continue to chat her up while she simply nods along "more like you couldn't resist her.." he sneered. matsukawa joined in as they three in teasing comments to the captain, all while oikawa tries to shut them up. 

"hey, let's eat out after practice, y/n-san" yahaba suggested with a flirty smile 

"oh, sure.." y/n replied, tilting her head in confusion as his face contorts into one that resembles the handsome squidward. "cool. i'll come." oikawa interjected as he stared yahaba down. 

"oh uh- i meant me.. and her.." yahaba sweat dropped 

"yknow what, why don't we bring the whole team!" oikawa let out an obnoxiously fake laugh as he announced the plans to the whole gym. "geez. he's down bad" matsukawa said to hanamaki as the latter nodded along 

"jesus christ, that dumbass.." iwaizumi sighs as he watched oikawa subtly give yahaba more tasks than the others 

"are you free later iwaizumi-san?" y/n asks him as she hesitantly tugged on his sleeve. iwaizumi raised a brow and nodded. "yeah, why? did you need something?" he asked 

"i know i said i'll stop trying but i still wanna know how to play volleyball" she said "can you teach me? coach said you're the ace" 

"oh sure" iwaizumi gave her a thumbs up "but didn't shittykawa teach you already?" 

"it didn't really work" she frowned "maybe you'd be a better teacher". iwaizumi sweat dropped as he heard a dramatic gasp followed by a thud from afar. he didn't even need to turn around to know that it was oikawa. 

"sure, i'll teach you the basics" iwaizumi sent her a grin. "thank you!" she exclaimed happily before walking off and doing her work 

"iwa-chan, you traitor!" oikawa exclaimed as he tried to tackle him down, only to be blocked by iwaizumi's arm. "shut up. its not my fault you can't even teach her how to hit a damn ball" iwaizumi rolled his eyes 

"i can, okay! it's just her..." oikawa chuckled sheepishly "she doesn't know how to hit it properly" 

"huh." iwaizumi hummed "maybe she's right, maybe you're just a shitty teacher." 

"you'll see for yourself!" 

"i can finally play volleyball!" she announced excitedly as she munched down on her food "really? how'd you learn that?" kindaichi mused with a soft laugh 

"iwaizumi-san taught me! he's really good" she said with  sparkling eyes 

oikawa spluttered as he felt an imaginary arrow pierce his chest. "ah.. that's.. that's great y/n.. good job" he squeaked out with a quivering smile. "maybe you're right.. maybe i was just a shitty teacher" oikawa shamefully admitted to iwaizumi 

beside her, oikawa silently sulked as he gloomily nibbled on his burger. "oikawa-san, i can finally serve too" she told him with a smile 

"glad you're aware" iwaizumi snickered. "anyways, i'm gonna go ahead" iwaizumi said as he stood up and stretched. "i have a shit ton of work to do so i'll leave ya guys to it" 

"iwaizumi-san, won't you walk with us?" y/n asked him "we're neighbours too right?" 

"ah actually, sure-" iwaizumi cut himself off as he caught a glimpse of oikawa looming over her shoulder 

the brunette was giving him an exaggerated frown, paired with his 'puppy dog eyes' and even some tears for the effect. its not that iwaizumi was swayed by the expression. frankly, he just didn't want to look at it any longer so he denied. 

"actually.. you guys can walk together. i think my mom needs me now. stay safe though" he said. y/n nodded and waved him off while oikawa send him a grateful smile and a wave. iwaizumi simply flipped him off and waved the rest goodbye. 

"so, anything else you want, y/n-chan?" oikawa cooed as he watched her chomp down her meal 

"milkshake.." y/n muttered with a delighted look on her face. "milkshake it is!" oikawa exclaimed. he then turned to yahaba who was grumbling by the corner and grinned. 

"cmon then, yahaba-kun~ she said she wanted a milkshake! chop chop!" oikawa chuckled. yahaba rolled his eyes but pulled out his wallet anyways. "why am i getting treated like this?" he silently sulked 

"well you were the one who invited us after all" oikawa mused. "i invited y/n, not all of you!" yahaba whined 

by the side, hanamaki and matsukawa simply watched, sneering and laughing to themselves while they ate. "this is gonna be a long night" hanamaki let out a sigh "who cares? yahaba's treating us" matsukawa shrugged 

"i never said that!" yahaba shrieked out 

"how do you feel?" oikawa asked her. "full.." she replied with a satisfied sigh "thanks for inviting me, everyone" she said 

"no problem, y/n-senpai!" kindaichi replied as he and kunimi waved her goodbye "bye guys!" the rest of them said as the team dispersed to their own routes. 

"guess its just us now" oikawa mused as he stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "right." y/n nodded as she slowly skated beside him 

"sure, oikawa-san. i'd like that" she smiled 

"let's walk together tomorrow too" oikawa suggested. "i'll invite iwa if you want" 

"this'll be like our routine from now on" oikawa cheered "us three will be best friends in no time" he sent her a  wink 

"best friends.." she muttered "i already-" 

"-have a best friend, i know" oikawa finished her sentence with a laugh "it's fine to have more than one best friend, ya know?" he mused 

"more than one.." she hummed thoughtfully "someone other than reki..?" she muttered to herself 

she looked down at her feet and her board, then back at oikawa and the slightly starry sky. it was quite similar to the daily routine she has with reki. skating together to school, eating out, and skating back home. it provided her a strange sense of deja vu. 

"that sounds nice." she said with a smile 

oikawa smiled back and put his hands behind his head as he walked. "yeah it does." he agreed 

"i look forward to being best friends with you guys" she said 

sorry for the spelling / grammar mistakes if there are any :<

"me too, y/n."

19. “I’m going to protect you.” Juke & the guys || for @starrybumbles​, @wldflwrskyee, and anon

-----

So, there’s this guy.

Man, actually. He’s old—super old, like twenty-five—with a receding hairline and dulling gray eyes. He shows up one day in October, completely out of the blue. Julie sees him a lot around school, usually milling about the hallways in regular clothes. At first, she thinks he’s a confused parent, lost trying to find the front office. After she sees him every day for a week, she considers him a janitor. But then, where is his uniform? His mop? His custodian supply cart? And he doesn’t speak to anyone in the halls like the other janitors do. No one makes an effort toward him, either. He’s weird; Julie can’t figure him out.

On Monday, one week after she first began seeing him, he makes his first move. He’s standing right outside of the music room. Julie doesn’t see him until she’s turning to leave with Flynn falling into step next to her, and he’s standing right in the doorway. Her classmates are filing into the hall, oblivious. Passing right through him. Julie stops in her tracks.

She thinks, another ghost? She can see another ghost?

He’s friendly when she passes. “Hello,” he says, all grin. “Great singing in there. Sounded beautiful.”

She smiles to be polite—realizing too late that she doesn’t have to react to him; as far as he knows, she can’t see ghosts! But the damage is done, she can tell. His face lights up when she reacts to him, and really, her heart aches. Who knows how long he’s been dead? What if she’s the first person to see him since he became a ghost?

On Tuesday, he’s walking with her in the halls, chatting about famous composers ranging from Beethoven to Queen. She’s pretending not to hear him and picking up her pace, hoping to lose him in the crowd. He never disappears; ghosts are fast.

Wednesday, she sees him at home. At home! She’s eating dinner with her family that evening, listening to Carlos tell a crazy story about defeating the Big Kids in a playground baseball game. Something behind him catches her eye: a face. A whole face—the man from school! He disappears as soon as they lock eyes.

For the rest of the night, she doesn’t feel right.

Thursday after school, in the midst of band practice, something knocks on the studio doors. The guys aren’t bothered—confused more than anything—but Julie jumps. Her microphone slips out of her hand. That has to be him, right? Does she confront him? What if he’s evil, like Caleb? What if he means harm? What if he’s a demon?

Reggie is closest; he fazes through the door, his top half disappearing outside. When he returns, he shrugs. “Nothing’s out there.”

“Sounded like a raccoon,” Luke says.

“Raccoons don’t knock, dude,” Alex argues.

“But they can, can’t they?” Reggie says. “With their little hands.”

Julie barely hears them. He came to her house.

“Why would a raccoon knock on a door?” Alex asks.

“I don’t know, Alex! Maybe after a life of crime, they want to do something nice for once!” Reggie defended.

She doesn’t notice Luke’s moved in front of her, but then he takes her hand, and she jolts back to reality. “Julie?” he says softly. He’s frowning at her, eyebrows drawn with concern and eyes sweeping over her. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a guy at school,” she explains slowly. “A ghost guy.”

Luke frowns. She can see the muscles in his jaw clench. “What do you mean a ghost guy?” he repeats slowly.

Friday morning, Julie is flanked by her band. They start off as her own personal bodyguards, walking with her through the halls in a formation that would rival the secret service and pretending to question anyone who got close, as if their words could actually be heard by someone other than her.

But then… she loses Alex to the gym when he sees Dirty Candy practicing a routine—he promises to be back after this song!

And then… she loses Reggie to the band room where—she notices in only a glimpse as they pass—a group of kids are absolutely shredding it on the saxophone.

By her music period, the only one remaining is Luke.

“I should’ve known you’d be the last one standing,” she jokes into her phone. “Actually, the only thing I was sure of was that we’d lose Reggie before lunch.”

“I bet Alex that Reggie would disappear much quicker,” Luke says. They share a smile.

Julie leans against her locker, hugging her books to her chest and scanning the hallway. “I’m kind of freaked by all of this,” she admits. “I thought the only ghosts I had to worry about were you guys.”

Luke shrugs. “We figured you could just see all ghosts. There are people like that, apparently.”

“I wonder if they get harassed too.”

“Julie,” he says, suddenly serious as he turns to her, “listen. This guy isn’t going to keep harassing you, okay?”

“But how are we supposed to stop a ghost?”

“I don’t know yet, but trust me.” He leans close, takes her hand in his, and smiles. “I’m going to protect you, alright?”

She chuckles. “My hero.”

By the middle of class, Alex has found his way back. They’re standing along the wall, a few rows behind Julie. Reggie arrives ten minutes later. Julie can hear him gushing about how cool Dungeons and Dragons is now. She laughs under her breath.

To close the class out, Julie takes a seat at the piano. She plays a cover of a song, an upbeat pop melody that everybody except the three 90s ghosts in the back recognize. Then, the bell rings, and the class spills into the hallway. Everything seems okay.

Until it isn’t.

“Beautiful song,” he says, appearing right behind her.

Julie scrambles to her feet. She moves around the piano quickly, dragging her hand along the lid and putting as much distance between her and him as possible.

Luke is there, immediately. “Hey man,” he says, blocking Julie. “What’s your deal?”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. He leans on Luke’s shoulder. “We don’t like when weirdos follow our friend around.”

The guy apologizes quickly. “It’s just—” he explains. “She’s the first person who’s seen me since I’ve died.”

“Join the club dude,” Reggie says. He’s in the back with Julie, arms crossed over his chest. “Doesn’t mean you can be creepy.”

“Do you like music?” Julie asks suddenly.

He tries stretching his neck to see her over Luke and Alex, but they don’t budge. “Love it,” he answers, glaring at them. “I was in a world renowned jazz band when I died. We were on tour.”

Alex looks back at Julie. She smiles at him. After a moment, he smiles back.

“Well, we know a place you can be seen by lifers and still play music,” he says. “It’s great.”

The guy raises an eyebrow. “… Really?”

That weekend, the guys come home late. Too late. Julie’s been on TikTok for hours, laying on the couch in the studio, trying to distract herself. They took the guy from school to Caleb’s nightclub tonight. Alex spoke with Willie, and they were able to get him close. Not too close, apparently—Julie made them swear they weren’t putting themselves in danger for this. They just had to get in and get out. According to Alex, it’s supposed to be easy.

Finally coming home at midnight doesn’t feel easy.

“Where were you!” she cries before they’ve regained their footing. She leaves her phone on the couch and storms at them. “It’s midnight! You left at nine! What happened!”

“Shh Julie it’s midnight,” Reggie says. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” When she glares at him, he jumps behind Luke.

“Chill out, okay?” Luke says, catching her arms. “It took a little longer than we expected, but the important thing is we’re okay, and that guy won’t bother you anymore.”

Julie huffs. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees with a nod. “He’s in a better place now.”

“Is he, though?” Reggie asks.

Luke snorts. “He thinks he is.”

Julie sighs. She covers the hand still wrapped around her arm. “Thanks, guys.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” Alex says. He’s grinning. “We’re family, right?”

“Oh!” Reggie steps out from behind Luke. “Group hug?”

Julie chuckles. “Well actually, I think it’s time for me to go to be—”

Luke yanks her forward suddenly. She staggers and falls into his chest, and his arms envelope her instantly. She smiles against him; being able to hug has been the greatest upgrade. He kisses her forehead and she hugs him tighter as butterflies flutter in her stomach.

“We have your back, Julie,” Luke mumbles into her hair.

Seconds later, Alex and Reggie are wrapping their arms around Luke and Julie. She’s enclosed in a blanket of warmth, even if they themselves provide no heat. We have your back, Julie. His words echo. She believes it; of course she believes it. She has no reason not to.

“With us,” he continues, holding her tighter, “you’re safe.”

@hearteyesforbuck asked:

I have been dying for a meet-cute au where Eddie takes Chris to the gym once a week and they box a little together before Eddie spars; usually Chris sits by the ring and reads but one day Eddie finds him laying on a bench, lifting an empty bar while this really cute blond guy spots him and gives him encouragement ....

guess who’s asks are still broken?

Tumblr keeps adding the “Read More” into the ask box, which breaks the entire post when I try to post it. Why is it happening? No idea, but if anyone knows how to fix it, please let me know, this is getting really old.

anyway, fun fact that I just learned about myself—if you want me to dedicate 100% of my brainpower to writing 4.5k of something in one sitting, you just throw in Christopher Diaz.

Eddie liked to think of himself as some kind of a “do it yourself” kind of dad.

Most of the time, that was a good thing.

Kitchen faucet broke? No worries, Eddie has some plumbers tape and three different YouTube videos telling him how to fix it.

Car wouldn’t start? Not a problem, Eddie bought the full repair manual offline and knows his way around a wrench.

Christopher needed forty gluten free, egg free, dairy free cupcakes for class tomorrow? Eddie was perfectly capable of... admitting when he was outmatched by a stand mixer and calling thirteen local bakeries to see if they delivered, because his car still wasn’t starting.

Point is, if there was a way he could work on something, Eddie would at least try it—and needless to say, that got a little complicated where Christopher was involved.

Eddie still wanted to do a lot of it on his own. Chris was his kid, and no one else's, and he didn’t even like being away from him while Chris was at school—he wasn’t sure if that was guilt stemming from leaving Chris as a kid, or guilt about introducing Shannon back into his life only to have her wind up dead, or guilt about... well, pick-a-thing, but he was pretty damn sensitive about what he perceived he could do to help his kid.

Which is why, when Chris’ physical therapist gave Eddie some suggestions about how Chris could work on strength training at home, Eddie dove completely into the deep end, head first, no floaties.

Working on Chris’ fine motor skills had been cake. Writing, drawing, arts and crafts, even playing video games, all helped improve Chris’ hand eye coordination (and if Eddie ran out of room on the fridge for Chris’ masterpieces and started framing them instead, well, that was his own business, no matter how nosy the busybodies at Michael’s got).

Working on his gross motor skills, though, that was another story. They could go on walks, sure, and they did every day. Eddie could hook up the trail-a-bike to his own once or twice a week so Chris could ride along with him, without worrying about his balance, but those were both leg heavy activities—and while it was great that Chris was building his core strength and leg strength, Eddie wasn’t about to just strap a wrist weight to Chris’ arms and call it a ‘well rounded workout’.

Short of more physical therapy, Eddie was at a loss as to what to do—so when Google Maps pushed him off the 101 to avoid a wreck on his way home from work and he got caught by a stop light right next to "Ricky’s Boxing Gym”, Eddie felt like his prayers had been answered.

Over the next few months, they had set up a pretty good routine. Eddie would bring Chris to the gym, they would hop into one of the many rings, and he and his son would get a half hour of quality time, three times a week. Eddie had his own set of boxing mitts, and Chris thought that spending a half hour trying to punch his dad’s hand was the most fun a kid could have after school. Chris would tire himself out and sit on the bench, drawing or reading for a while more, while Eddie would actually spar with one of the staff members, get his own workout in, and then they’d go home.

Nine times out of ten, they’d stop for ice cream or pizza, and completely undo any of the workout they had actually done, but Eddie thought that was a small price to pay for the whoop of joy Chris let out when he actually managed to hit Eddie’s glove dead center.

Eddie’s sparring partner of choice (well, after Chris) was Tommy Kinard. He was nice enough, and kept Eddie on his toes, giving him plenty of time to look over to Chris to make sure he was safe, and happy, and occupied, and (“Dad, I’m fine! Go punch someone!”) okay, maybe he was helicoptering a little bit. He hadn’t really thought it was a problem until Kinard went on paternity leave, leaving him in the capable, and brutal, hands of Boscoe.

Boscoe was a beast. He didn’t know her first name—didn’t know if she had a first name—but what she lacked in pleasantries she more than made up with strength. If Eddie was being honest, though, he kind of loved it; even after the first day they sparred together, when he wound up limping into the 118, proudly admitting to Hen that he had been beat up by a girl.

The thing was, Boscoe was intense, and while that was a good thing, it gave him less of a chance to helicopter over Chris.

Which, okay, maybe that was a good thing too. Whatever.

He knew the gym pretty well by that point, and knew the people who worked there, knew he could trust Chris with any of them—which is why when he looked up after dodging a jab from Boscoe, and saw Chris absent from his bench, he only panicked a little bit.

When he managed to take a wider look around the gym and saw a familiar pair of shoes laying down on a workout bench, the rest of him obscured by a bigger, bulkier body, that panic went from 0-60 real quick.

“Hey!”

He only barely managed to dodge a glancing blow from Boscoe as he ducked beneath the ropes, grabbing a towel to blot at his face as he hopped down. His voice was little more than a quick bark through the gym as he stepped around another group of machines, his frantic pace slowing a little as he got into earshot.

“... yeah, come on buddy, you can do it! Come on, give me one more rep! You got this little man!”

Fuck, had this stranger actually given Chris a set of weights?

His temper was white hot by the time he finally got around the front of the machine, opening his mouth to shout, to get a manager, to do something, but the words died in his throat as he took in the scene before him.

Because Chris was definitely on the bench, and he definitely had his hands on the bar—the bar that was completely devoid of weights, Eddie noticed, the same bar that had two much larger, stronger hands attached to them. Hands that were probably doing all the actual work of lifting the bar, because Chris was laying back, unable to speak, because he was giggling so hard.

The bar landed back on the rack with a dull thunk as Chris pulled his hands back, sticking them straight up in the air triumphantly as he sat up. The man behind the bar gave a big show of leaning against the frame of the bench dramatically, fanning himself, giving Eddie a full view of an employee shirt, name badge, and the gym logo stitched across the polo he was wearing.

Whelp, that was almost very embarrassing for him.

“Holy cow, that was such a good job! Man, you have got to be the strongest kid I’ve ever met in my life!”

“Dad, did you see me? Buck says I’m super strong!”

Eddie had to admit, he was a little thrown by whatever was happening here, but Chris was obviously having a good time, and he felt the white hot anger dissipate into something a little less angry and a little more embarrassed.

“That was some pretty impressive work, buddy! Have you been holding out on me?” Eddie dipped down and tossed a few playful jabs at Chris, selfish only because he wanted to prolong the joy his son was obviously feeling, but it was all worth it as he was handsomely rewarded when Chris started giggling again.

The man—Buck, Eddie gathered—laughed, drawing Eddie’s attention upward, and for a moment, his brain short circuited, because there was no way on earth a gym rat could be this... pretty.

Because damn. Buck was pretty.

Pretty enough that Eddie was easily distracted, waxing poetic (internally, thankfully) about beefy arms and a plush lip that he didn’t notice what was happening until Buck stuck a hand out, smiling, and Eddie could only guess what was going on. He reached out and took the hand, his own smile hitching as Buck’s face slipped into confusion.

“Uhh—”

“...I was asking if you wanted me to take your towel for you and get you a fresh one.”

Oh. Right. Towel.

Eddie’s face burned as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, handing it over, giving a too-tight laugh as he nodded his head. “Yes! If you could get me a new towel so I could strangle myself in embarrassment, that would be great.”

Well, at the very least, that got Buck to laugh again—death would be worth it if that was the last sound he heard. “Sorry I kind of stole your kid. He was wandering in between the machines, and it’s my first week off of the evening shift, so I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get hurt—but then he started asking about all the weights and pulleys and stuff, you have a really smart kid!”

Total Gym Hottie (Buck, his mind corrected. If he was going to drool over someone the least he could do was use their name) was complimenting his kid now, and Eddie was so star struck he was actually proud to say he didn’t stumble when Buck nudged his shoulder, head jerking back to the ring he had abandoned.

"...anyway, I think strangulation is the least of your worries, if I know that look, Boscoe has an entirely different death planned for you if you don’t get back in the ring. Go on, I’ll help little man here wheel you out on a gurney when she’s done with you.”

Buck sounded way too positive about that, and it was all Eddie could do to groan and walk back to the ring, tail between his legs.

Sure enough, even after he had the next day off, he was still sore when he walked into the 118 for his next shift.

--

Buck became easily, seamlessly, a part of their routine, in a way that probably deserved a little more insight on Eddie’s part, but insight was for suckers. At least two days out of the week, their schedules aligned—Eddie and Chris still worked on their exercises, but now it included Buck giving a dramatic play by play on the sidelines, talking up Chris like an announcer, or just otherwise causing shenanigans.

It was worth it, easily, because while Chris was certainly never a negative kid, Eddie had never seen him in brighter spirits. And Buck... well, anyone that could find a way to help out his son in a way that Chris clearly enjoyed earned an instant gold star in Eddie’s book. The fact that he was easy on the eyes wasn’t a bad thing, either.

“Diaz, I swear to God—”

Eddie only barely ducked under Boscoe’s extended hand, forcibly rooting himself back in the moment, looking guiltily back to her instead of watching Buck and Chris.

“—can you pay attention for like three minutes so I can hit you without feeling bad about it?”

Eddie tried, he really did, but it was hard. A few weeks had gone by since their initial meeting, and Eddie had gone from “wow he’s pretty” to “full high school crush” in no time flat. It wasn’t his fault, though—because what sealed the deal wasn’t the moment Buck had switched to tank tops over polos, or how happy Eddie was to spend time staring at Buck’s magnificent ass (and it was really, really magnificent, let the record show), it was how he interacted with Chris that sent him over the edge.

Buck was good with Chris, but somehow that was the understatement of the year. He was kind, and he was bubbly, and he was just in sync in a way that Eddie wasn’t even sure he had reached, and Chris was his son. Buck was patient in a way that seemed effortless, easily slowing himself down or changing what he was doing when he noticed Chris struggling, wether it was in going over a math problem while Eddie got the crap beat out of him or just showing him how some of the different machines worked.

Hell, right now, Eddie had his hands securely around Chris’ hips as he lifted the other male to a chin-up bar, helping Chris count out the pull-up’s he was doing—and while all Eddie could hear was Chris’ laughter, all he could see were the thick cords of muscle attached to Buck’s arms, lifting Chris like he weighed nothing.

Eddie wondered, not for the first time, if Buck could lift him like that.

Like she was a horrible mind reading pervert, Boscoe smacked him with an open hand—not hard enough to hurt, but not soft enough that he was going to ignore it.

“Diaz, this will be our last session together. Kinard is back next week—” Another punch, a quick jab that Eddie blocked with his forearms. “—so the least you could do is focus on me and not the apple of your eye over there.”

“Buck isn’t the apple of my—fuck—my eye, grow up.” Eddie huffed as he threw out a punch of his own, his hand knocked away violently, only barely dodging the sharp hook that Boscoe sent to him.

“God, I was talking about your kid, Diaz. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Oh.

Ignoring how red his face was, Eddie grumbled and threw another quick jab, though he missed completely as Boscoe stepped back, a grin on her face, and Eddie knew better than to trust that look. The last time he trusted that look, he had been talked into fighting bare-handed, and he still wasn’t sure his knuckles would ever really work again.

“You know, Kinard is supposed to take you back as a client, but I bet if you asked nice enough...”

Oh no.

“Hey, Buck!”

Oh no. Eddie looked up in horror as Buck easily lifted Christopher onto his shoulders—god, so much muscle—and jogged over, with the nerve to not even be out of breath when he smiled up to the pair in the ring. Eddie bit his tongue and leaned over to high five his kid, fully prepared to deal with whatever terrible thing was about to come his way.

“Kinard was supposed to take Diaz here back after he’s off leave next week, but I know he wanted to ease back into things after being away from the gym for a few months. You think you could spar with him in the interim?”

Oh, no, didn’t seem to cover it anymore. Eddie was having a hard enough time focusing on the task at hand when Buck was in the same building, he would be signing his own death certificate if he had to stare Buck in the face, and then try to hit said face. He hadn’t even seen Buck break a sweat before—he didn’t know if his little bisexual heart could take it.

He was somehow both relieved and regretful when Buck shook his head, looking plenty apologetic as he pulled Chris up and off of his shoulders, making sure that he was steady on his feet before he leaned up against the ropes. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t really box, and besides, I think Chris and I are making real progress while you get your butt kicked. Show him the guns, Chris!” Buck said, and Chris immediately started some classic strong-man poses, Buck posing dramatically behind him, and Eddie felt his heart melt for two entirely different reasons.

Buck turned around mid pose as the door chime went off, giving Eddie ample time to count out the individual strands of muscle fiber in the moment before Buck relaxed, turning with a smile back to the gang in the ring. “Lena, that's my next client. Chris, Eddie, I’ll see you both next week, yeah?” He said with a grin before he fist bumped Chris and waved to Eddie, slipping back into Professional Buck mode. Eddie waved back, brows almost in his hairline as he looked back to Boscoe, who was scowling at him.

“So—”

“No, Diaz.”

“Wait, why not? Buck gets to call you Lena!”

“Beat me in the ring as often as Buck does and I’ll consider it.”

Eddie had his mouth open to retort when Chris cut him off, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he tilted his head. “Can I call you Lena?”

She didn’t even hesitate a moment, nodding her head seriously. “You can absolutely call me Lena, squirt.”

Chris promptly stuck his tongue out at his dad, and Eddie reacted in sort, falling to the floor of the ring as he grabbed at his chest. “The nerve! Betrayed by my own child, my own flesh and blood!”

Chris looked thoroughly unimpressed, sitting back on the bench as he started to pack up his schoolwork. “Lena, can you tell my dad to stop being such a drama queen?”

It wasn’t until they were both in the car, that Eddie, thoroughly beaten down by his son, his trainer, and his own brain for providing a play by play of Buck that day while he was in the locker room shower stall, really thought about what Buck said.

He didn’t box. Which was strange enough in a boxing gym, but whatever, there were plenty of machines that Buck could be working on instead.

But them Boscoe (god, he couldn’t even call her Lena in his head, it felt like she would figure it out and beat him to death) basically admitted that Buck regularly whooped her behind the ropes

If Buck wasn’t boxing in a boxing gym, what the hell was he doing?

--

As it turned out, Eddie didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. Barely a week had passed before Eddie had received a call from Chim, all but begging Eddie to switch shifts so he could take the girl he had been seeing out on a proper date. The switch was a no brainer—Maddie seemed like a great girl, and as much shit as he gave Chim for... well, being Chim, he obviously wanted to see his teammate happy, especially when the only thing he would have to change was a gym day from a Monday to a Sunday.

If he had known that this would be the day that sealed his fate, he probably would have reconsidered the switch all together.

The gym was packed—which probably wasn’t surprising for a weekend day, but damn, Eddie had been glad he booked a ring with Kinard ahead of time. It was nice to see a familiar face in the gym anyway, one that wasn’t trying to beat the crap out of him in the ring, and once Kinard joined up with them, it was easy to shoot the shit. Eddie congratulated him on his step into fatherhood, ruffling Chris’ hair as he did—not that Chris noticed, busy scanning through the machines for a familiar blond head.

Not that Eddie could judge, when he was doing the same thing.

“Hey, I’m gonna toss my stuff in a locker. See you out here in a sec?”

“Yeah, sounds good! Buck and Boscoe are almost done in their ring, we have it next.”

Eddie was halfway to the locker room before what Kinard had said clicked in his brain, and he immediately did a 180, making a beeline to the rings set up on the far side of the gym, easily spotting the pair when he knew what to look for.

It was no wonder that neither he nor Chris had recognized Buck when they walked in—he was literally drenched in sweat, his usually fluffy blonde hair dark and slicked to his forehead, scowling around his mouth guard as he danced around Boscoe.

Boscoe, who Eddie had never seen so worked up. Damn, she really hadn’t even had to try during his matches. Wasn’t that a blow to the ego.

No, Buck definitely wasn’t a boxer, because this was a dance. Every move he made, he made with his entire body, his energy flowing through each form, moving easily and gracefully in a way that shouldn’t have been possible with such an incredible amount of force and flat out violence. He almost felt dazed as he followed Buck’s movements, but in the best possible way, his eyes snapping back and forth as he tried to trace where one hit ended and the next began.

“Wow.”

Eddie was glad that Chris said it, because he still couldn’t find the muscles needed to pick his jaw up off the floor. He didn’t know if Chris had followed him over to the ring or if his Buck-radar was just that good, but for the time being, Eddie was more than thankful for the minute distraction as he ruffled his kids hair again.

Boscue was moving more desperately as the match continued, launching into a series of quick jabs, but even Eddie could see where that was her downfall. Buck knocked her arm back with her last punch and sent a kick straight for her shoulder, but then he twisted his entire body off of the mat and his other leg was in the air too, and Eddie instinctively sucked in a breath as Buck locked her neck between his thighs. They both came crashing down to the mat, struggling impressively until Boscoe slapped Buck’s thigh twice, and then—

—and then Buck was all smiles again, beaming as he released her and took a knee on the ring, helping her back into a sitting position, spitting out his mouth guard with an excited moment of praise for her technique.

Eddie could not compute. This was his downfall. Eddie is dead, long live Eddie.

“Holy cow, Buck! That was amazing! You’re like... you’re like a ninja crime fighting super hero!”

Well, that was one way to put it.

Buck’s head whipped around at Chris’ excited outburst, lighting up when he spotted Eddie and Chris near the bench, eagerly scooting forward into a sitting position closer to the ropes.

“Thanks, little man! That was some mixed martial arts, it’s super fun. I’ve been teaching Lena for a few years, she’s getting pretty good!”

Buck’s grin slid into something a little more proud and pleased as he looked to Eddie, and Eddie felt every muscle in his body tighten as Buck’s gaze burned through him.

“What did you think of that leg lock, Eddie? Total knock out, right?”

Oh fuck, was Buck flirting with him now? That had to have been flirty, right? Come on, Brain, do something.

“... legs.”

“...my legs?”

“Buck, your... your legs.”

Buck’s smile looked a little more pinched as Eddie groaned, shaking his head. “Okay, I, I’m sorry, but I have to ask you this or I will completely die. Can I take you out to dinner sometime? I know a great place off the strip, you’ll love it, my treat.”

The look on Buck’s face was skeptical, at best, but at least he wasn’t shutting him down, giving Eddie the benefit of the doubt (and giving him a moment to get his brain back online). “Because of my legs?”

“No. Well, okay, you have amazing legs. And arms, though, and like... a stupidly handsome face, and I would be blind not to notice those things—” shit, Eddie probably sounded like such a shallow asshole right now. “—but I’m asking because you’re really smart. And you’re kind, so kind to Chris too, and you’re patient, and... Buck, you’re really really sweet. And I would love to take you out for a dinner date the moment you can look past my apparent inability to form a single coherent thought.”

After a moment that felt much longer than the three seconds it was, Buck sighed and leaned past Eddie, looking critically to Chris. He slid down to his stomach, squinting as he dropped down to eye level with the boy. “What do you think, Chris? Should I give your dad a shot?”

Well, at the very least, Buck was asking the one person that Eddie knew he always had in his corner; and sure enough, Chris delivered. “I think so. Dad really likes you.”

That’s his boy.

“Last week he spent my whole entire physical therapy appointment telling Dr. Wilson how much help you gave me and how nice you were and how much he appreciated it. It got kinda annoying.”

...well damn, Eddie wasn’t expecting to be called out by his own kid like that, but if the suddenly soft look Buck was giving him was any indication, it might have been the necessary push to get him to understand how serious Eddie was.

Eddie tried to keep his excitement tamped down when Buck nodded, sitting back up. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make you a deal. Only because you managed to ask me out before I could ask you.”

Wait, Buck wanted to ask him out anyway?

“If you can land three hits on me in three minutes—should be easy after spending a weeks with Boscoe—then you can pick the time, the place, and I’ll even talk Lena in to letting you call her Lena. But if you don’t...” Buck reached through the ropes to help Eddie up, tossing him a wrap for his hands as he did. “... then I get to pick the time, the place, and you start training with me in MMA instead of going back to boring old boxing.”

Eddie blinked at him in abject horror as Buck dipped his voice low, seeing with terrible clarity exactly where Boscoe had learned her terrifying grin.

“That way you can see my leg choke up close and personal. Deal?”

The stakes were too high, and Eddie couldn’t say no.

He was screwed.

He was elated.

But fuck, he was screwed.

(Three minutes later, Buck asked if Eddie was free on Friday at seven, promised to pick somewhere nice, and gave him a searing kiss before he disappeared into the staff locker room. Eddie, on the other hand, needed a spatula to peel himself off of the floor of the ring.

He had never been so happy that he could barely move in his life.)

Unlike Any Other; Tooru Oikawa

Genre: Fluff, Schoolmates AU

Word Count: 2.4K

Author’s Note: Hey hey hey!! I was feeling restless so I wrote this fanfic earlier this morning and just finished it, so I’m hoping ya’ll enjoy it. Please continue to support my oneshots as there are more to come! Stay safe everyone and here’s to falling for Tooru. 

The soft creak of the metal door of the school's locker rung in your ears as you grabbed a few books and stashed it into your backpack. It was free period before all your classes were over so you decided to stay in the library for the time being. The library was the only quiet place during the afternoon, it's either most of the students are in their club rooms or are waiting by the cafeteria for the gates to open so that they could leave the school premises. It was just like any day in Aoba Johsai. You made your way through the busy hallway towards the school's library. At least by staying there, you could also catch up on your readings for classes and study ahead for the next lesson for each class. Or so you thought. "Oikawa, I'm giving you the last warning. If you don't remain silent, I have no choice but to have you exit the library." The librarian spoke through the intercom, her message directed towards a certain Tooru Oikawa who was probably somewhere behind rows of bookshelves. 

Just when you thought you could be at peace, the school's pretty boy happened to be at the same place as you were. Technically, Oikawa was not that annoying, it was his fangirls. The guy is gorgeous and talented, especially in volleyball, thus gaining a huge fanbase, not only in the prefecture but all over Japan. Wherever Oikawa went, a swarm of his fans would surround him and the guy was too soft to say no to their persistent pleas of wanting to take pictures or give him gifts. By the end of the day, he would have a few paper bags of food in his hand and a bunch of letters in his bag. You sighed and simply headed to the isolated parts of the library which was behind a few rows of dusty old books that were nearly torn and worn out. However, you were not the only one who liked this specific spot. As you walked closer to the table, your eyes fixated on a tall, lean figure who was surrounded by a bunch of girls. You immediately knew that it was Oikawa. Pursing your lips, you settled at a different table which was not too far from them but also enough distance to not eavesdrop on their conversations. ___ As you were writing down a bunch of notes for the lessons, you couldn't help but notice the awkward tension in the air. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you were sure that someone, somewhere must've been feeling very uncomfortable for a while now. You shrugged off the feeling and stood up, heading towards one of the bookshelves close to Oikawa. The aisles in the backrows usually had the best books for classes, and they help you a lot when you were studying. Not everyone knew about most of the teacher's textbooks being stored in the library so not much people head to the backrows for it. Dust coated the tip of your finger as you ran it along the spines of the books, searching for a specific textbook for your class tomorrow. You could hear Oikawa's voice, it seemed uneasy as he was trying to get the girls around him to leave him alone for a while. "U-uhm, I have to study." "Don't you have any lessons you need to catch up on?" "Let me finish this chapter in the textbook then maybe I can come with you girls?" It sounded like he was having a hard time for the girls to get off his back. Feeling sorry for the guy, you head back to your table and grabbed your things. You walked back towards the row of dusty books and grabbed the ones that you needed and headed for Oikawa's table. You dropped the old books on the table, all the dust flying out which made the girls sneeze and itch their noses. You then settled your things beside Oikawa and took a seat beside him. "Hey babe." You said and Oikawa stared at you in confusion. The guy was pretty smart, but when it came to finding ways to fend off his fangirls, he was dumb as a brick. You raised your eyebrows in a threatening way and he must've got the signal. Oikawa snakes his arm behind you and pulls you closer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. His fangirls were shocked at the scenario that played out in front of them, and finally deciding to leave the poor guy.  As soon as they were out of sight, you pushed him away and moved your chair to the side, creating a safe distance from Oikawa. "Why did you do that?" He asked as you flipped through the pages of the book. "I could feel your uneasiness from my table, so I figured I'd help a poor soul." You answered, your gaze still focusing on the learning materials in front of you. A soft smirk crept up Oikawa's lips. "Well, thanks for that. But, are you sure that's all that was behind your little heroic gesture?" He teases and you furrowed your eyebrows. Placing your pen on the table, you snap your head to face the obnoxious guy beside you, a stupid smirk on plastered on his face. "For someone who can't even keep his fans in control, you sure have a huge ego." You spat and Oikawa laughed at your retort. He never knew someone could resist his teasing. All his life, girls turned their heads to appreciate his radiating beauty, but you were something else. He liked challenges, and you definitely seemed like one. ___ It's been a week since your encounter with Oikawa and his fangirls, and you've been avoiding every way possible of bumping into him. The guy was everywhere, and that made it hard to stay clear from him. There were times that you could hear his voice from the hallways since you were in the same year as Kyotani, however he was in a lower class than you. You would often hear him share a conversation with Kyotani as they were teammates in the volleyball club, and when during those times, you would bury your face in a book. You didn't want him to see you because he would pester you again especially with that stupid kiss that he placed on your temple. However, Oikawa had already acknowledged your presence. He's been looking for ways to talk with you again but, he needed the perfect time to do so. Knowing his massive fanbase, some of them were too obsessed, and if they found out about you, they'd probably find ways to eliminate you. Packing your things, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out the classroom. You were a part of Aoba Johsai's dance team and with the annual 'Miyagi Prefecture High School Sports Festival' taking place in the school, your team was assigned to perform for an opening ceremony. As you were on your way to the practice spot, Haruto, who was one of your fellow dancers walked up to you and initiated a conversation. Haruto was a good friend of yours, and he was a really good dancer too. "Hey Y/N, are you ready for our practice? You're in charge of the choreography today right? Akari won't be with us for a week so she said she'll catch up with us once she's back." Haruto said and you nodded. Akira was another one of your teammates, usually both of you were the people in charge of the choreography, but without her, it would probably be tougher to work on. Akira was a very talented dancer and choreographer, she always had great ideas for the most creative and powerful dance routines.   "Yeah, it's going to be tricky but I could always ask you guy for ideas." You said and entered the gym. The gym had the biggest stage in the school and the group needed as much space for the routine you had in mind. "Are you sure we'll be able to work on our choreography while avoiding balls?" Haruto teases and confusion washed over your system. Avoiding balls? Why'd you have to avoid balls? "Oh, I see you're here darling." Oikawa. It was Oikawa Tooru. How could you forget that the boys' volleyball club occupies the gym after school hours? Just when you thought you've been doing well to avoid him; he shows up in the exact place you didn't want him to be at. "You know, I thought you were pretty bold when you helped me with my fans, but I never thought you'd also be at my practices." He messes and you facepalmed. Damn, how could you have let it slip your mind.   "I wanted to see you get smacked by Iwaizumi when you messed up." You answered and smiled at him; the coldest one you could pull off. Iwaizumi, who was beside him laughed, clearly amused at how you were able to counter Oikawa. "Don't worry, we'll try our best to avoid spiking towards you guys." Iwaizumi said and pulls Oikawa away. The two boys headed over to the club room, probably to get changed as you and Haruto got up on the stage. Both of you settled your bags on the floor and you grabbed a black hoodie and a matching black jogging pants. You headed towards backstage to change into your dance practice outfit. Afterwards, you walked back out and stuffed your uniform into a separate compartment. Grabbing the pair of Adidas superstars in your bag, you slipped it on and tucked your school shoes under your bag. "Hey Y/N, you look good." Lucy said as the other members started arriving. From the other side of the gym, you could see that the team was already having a meeting with their coach. You shook your head and diverted your attention towards your own group. ___ "Okay, cue the music." You instructed and a few seconds later, the music echoed throughout the gym. Everyone moved to the beat, formations changing here and there as everyone tried their best not to mess up the routine. Sweat trickled from your forehead as you tried to control your breathing to match the music. You've practiced the routine for roughly 2 hours and it was slowly getting darker outside. Everyone was tired but that was no excuse. The school's dance team had been representing the Miyagi Prefecture in dance competitions around Japan for years, and it was because each member worked so hard each time. So today was no exemption. From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how the volleyball team's pace slowed down. It was as if the game was slowing down, but you had no idea why. Focusing on your dance, your body matched every beat of the music and a smile crept up your lips. Deep breaths echoed through the gym as the music came to an end. You were able to finish the choreography within two hours and another hour for actual memorization of the routine. Everyone was exhausted and you were proud of the effort that everyone displayed today. You dismissed the group and headed to change your outfit, the hoodie was all sweaty and it reeked of sweat too. After changing, you started packing up, your shoes were tucked into your clip-on mini shoe bag and the rest of your clothes were stuffed into your bag.

As you got down from the elevated stage, Oikawa approached you, his signature smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him and attempted to walk away from the charming guy that stood in front of you. Despite how much you would deny it, you were attracted to Oikawa. However, you would never let yourself fall on your knees for him, Oikawa possessed the visuals of a radiating young deity, but he was no god. You could never imagine chasing after him, because you knew you never stood a chance, especially with his huge fanbase. "You looked really good up there darling." He said and a tinge of pink colored your cheeks. Oikawa Tooru complimented you, tis was beyond imagination. Who knew this narcissistic jerk was capable of compliments? "Did you enjoy staring? Liked what you saw?" You teased and continued walking, Oikawa adjusting his pace to keep up with you. Oikawa would admit it, he liked you since that day you encountered in the library. He admired your badass personality and comfortable vibes. It was as if he could act however he wanted to be when he was with you. He didn't have to be afraid of showing you his playfulness, he didn't have to hide his deepest thoughts, he was comfortable with you and he could let himself feel vulnerable when you were around. "In all honesty, I think I did. Expect me to be waiting for you after your performance with a bottle of water darling." Oikawa said and you laughed at his words.   "You know Oikawa, I'm not like your fangirls. I will not be easily swooned by your words." You said and Oikawa placed his hands on his hips, his head falling backwards. "I know darling. You're unlike any other. That's why I like you." He said and at that moment your heart exploded into tiny pieces. Oikawa and his dumb words always found a way to make you feel jittery. But you would never give in that easily to him. "You know, you should stop flirting so much Oikawa. It makes you seem like a heartbreaker, even if it's unintentional." You pointed out and Oikawa snorted at your comment. "You're the only one I flirt with darling." Oikawa said, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. You sighed and didn't bother untangling it because he would just grab it again. "Stop messing with me Oikawa." You said and grabbed your phone to check on your messages. "I'm not, and for a second year, you're pretty confident in calling me without a senpai at the end." He says and you smiled, facing him and flicking his forehead with your index. "And for a senior, you're stooping on low levels to flirt with a junior." You countered and all he could do was laugh. You were unbelievable in his eyes; no girl could ever resist him the way you do. It riled him up and it made him want you even more. "I like you a lot Y/N. Just know that, you want to grab some dinner before heading home?" He offers and you smiled at him once again. Oikawa Tooru had your heart, but you would still play hard to get for a little while. Besides, free dinner was always good. So, both of you walked towards a nearby restaurant to enjoy some food, Oikawa's fingers still intertwined with yours. --The End--