Summary:Y/N L/N is one of the youngest drivers on the Formula 1 grid—and one of the fiercest competitors. But high G-forces and pushing herself to the limit come with a cost: her asthma. After a grueling race and a podium finish, the grid witnesses a side of her they weren’t ready for—and they remind her she’s not alone.
CW: Asthma attack, mild medical scenario, fluff overload, found family vibes.
Pre-Race: Paddock Chaos
The Singapore sun felt like it was trying to smother the entire paddock. The air was heavy with humidity, sticky on the skin, and even the camera crews looked like they were melting as they followed drivers to their garages.
Y/N L/N adjusted the top of her fireproof suit as she leaned against the Mercedes hospitality building, sipping from her water bottle. Her lungs felt tight in that way they sometimes did before races—not bad, just… aware.
Focus. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth.
She always did her asthma check in the mornings before any high-G track. She kept her inhaler in a discreet side pocket of her race bag, and her engineer knew to check in on her over the radio. After years of managing it, she refused to let asthma be what anyone remembered her for.
“Y/N!”
She looked up to see Oscar jogging toward her, wearing the faintest of grins and holding two cold water bottles. He tossed one her way.
“You’re going to need it. Feels like a sauna out here.”
Y/N caught it and nodded. “Thanks. I’m convinced Singapore’s trying to cook us alive.”
“Or maybe just you,” Oscar teased. “I heard about your sector three pace yesterday—you’re gonna make the rest of us sweat too.”
Before she could reply, George strolled up, shaking his head like a disappointed dad.
“Are you hydrated? Did you take your puffs this morning?”
“George…” she groaned, laughing. “Yes, I’m fine.”
He still looked skeptical. It had become unofficial grid knowledge over the past couple of seasons that Y/N was the little sister everyone kept an eye on, even if she could handle herself.
“Good,” George said finally, “because you’re starting P4 today. I expect fireworks.”
“Trust me,” she said, pulling her helmet on, “I plan to deliver.”
The Race: Adrenaline and G-Forces
Lights out. 61 laps.
The first ten laps were smooth—focused, controlled. She could feel the G-forces pressing her into the seat, lungs adjusting to the rhythm. Sector two was her sweet spot; she always gained time there.
Her engineer’s voice crackled in her ear:
“Car looks good. Breathing okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, voice steady. “Let’s push.”
By lap 22, the heat was creeping into her chest. Her throat felt a little raw under the dry helmet air. But she kept her focus—Charles was just ahead in P3, and she wanted that podium.
Lap 35. She took Turn 13 tighter than ever, overtaking Charles with a daring move that made the crowd roar.
“YES! That’s P3, Y/N!”
She grinned, adrenaline drowning out the faint wheeze in her chest.
The last laps were a blur of sweat, tire degradation, and determination. P3 across the finish line. Her team was screaming in her ears. She’d done it—another podium, another set of points toward the championship fight.
The Attack: The Grid Becomes a Family
The adrenaline started to fade the second she unbuckled her belts.
She pulled off her helmet and was hit by the wall of hot, wet air. The roar of the crowd felt distant. Her chest was heavy. She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught halfway, tight and wheezy.
She stumbled out of the car, legs shaky.
Lando: “Y/N? Hey, you good?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but a raspy gasp came out instead. Panic flickered across his face.
Lando: “She’s not breathing right! Medics!”
George: “Asthma—she’s having an attack!”
Yuki: “Move, move, get her to shade!”
The world turned into a whirl of motion. Someone—probably Carlos—guided her to sit against the pit wall. George crouched in front of her, voice steady but urgent.
“Hey, Y/N. Eyes on me. Inhale… exhale… you’ve got this. Medics are here.”
Her vision blurred for a moment. Then an inhaler was pressed into her hand. George guided it to her lips. One puff. Two. Hold. Exhale.
The wheeze started to ease, little by little. She leaned forward, clutching the inhaler, trying to calm her racing heart.
Oscar: “Hey, you’re okay. We got you.”
Max: “Yeah… don’t scare us like that again.”
Within a couple minutes, medics had her on a portable oxygen mask, and her breathing finally leveled out. She could hear the guys joking around her, trying to lighten the mood.
Lando: “She scared me more than my own crash last year.”
Yuki: “I almost cried!”
Charles: “I did cry, actually. A little.”
She managed a laugh, voice raspy. “I’m… fine. Promise.”
Recovery & Garage Comfort
The medics moved her to the Mercedes garage, where she sat on a folding chair with a cooling towel around her neck.
Every driver who wasn’t in a debrief stopped by:
Lando knelt like a mom, trying to hand-feed her energy gels.
Yuki parked himself cross-legged by her feet, patting her leg every two minutes.
Oscar scrolled Twitter: “Uh… you’ve gone viral. Clip of all of us sprinting to you? People are calling us the ‘F1 Babysitters.’”
George added, “And they’re right.”
Even Lewis swung by, smiling softly. “You scared us, champ. But you handled it. You always do.”
Y/N smiled sheepishly. “Sorry for the scare… guess I wanted to make Singapore dramatic.”
Max: “Mission accomplished.”
Podium & Viral Fame
When the podium ceremony finally came, the crowd went wild for her.
Lando and Max hovered protectively as she lifted her trophy. Cameras caught her grin, the towel still tucked under her race suit collar. Social media blew up instantly:
“THE GRID RUNNING TO PROTECT HER 😭”
“George really said ‘I am now her father.’”
“Y/N L/N: Podium + asthma attack + breaking the internet.”
Later, in the hotel, a new group chat appeared on her phone:
Asthma Protection Squad 🫁💨
Lando: if you ever do that again I’m buying bubble wrap for your lungs
George: sent a breathing exercise app link
Oscar: meme of a race car wrapped in bubble wrap
Y/N laughed so hard she wheezed again—just a little.
She fell asleep that night with her trophy on the nightstand and a warm certainty in her chest: she didn’t just have rivals on the grid. She had a family.
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You were boiling over with nerves and curiosity the whole drive back to Jacob’s place. Part of you thought it was all an elaborate prank as a final “fuck you” after the ghosting. Another was scared for what it meant if it was all real. You didn’t know how to feel about having a “mate”. It all sounded kinda wash-y. But Sam’s involvement is what made you take it more seriously.
Before Jacob cut you off and got “mono” he hated Sam. He thought he was in a cult. So seeing Jacob so comfortable around the man now was definitely weird. Before your mind spiraled into conspiracy, Jacob pulled into his driveway. The two of you hopped out of the car and you stood awkwardly to the side.
“So you’re just gonna poof into a wolf?” You asked, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets.
“Uh, no. It’s like in the movies but a lot less painful looking.” He explained. “And I kinda have to strip so… just gimme a sec.”
You blushed red as he jogged behind his make-shift garage. A loud ripping sound rang out and then a very big wolf with almost auburn, brown fur rounded the corner. You froze like a deer in headlights, unable to move or blink or scream.
What if he’s still back there? What if this is a real wolf? Would Jacob do that to you? Would he put you in danger like that?
Your head swirled with anxiety and fear as you watched the wolf approach you. Your chest tightened and your hands trembled in your pockets. As if the beast could sense your fear it froze and tilted its head. It scurried back behind the shed and another loud rip hurt your ears before Jacob was sprinting over in just his jeans. You were still frozen, but your chest loosened up a bit.
“Hey, hey.” He said your name shakily, like he was the one freaking out. He pulled you into his chest and kissed your head.
“Deep breaths, okay. In and out. Do it with me, please. In-“ he sucked in a loud breath. “And out.” He exhaled dramatically.
He went on for another minute until your body caught on and matched his breathing. You pulled away and shoved him back.
“What the hell? Was that real?” You almost yelled.
“W- of course it was real! How the hell would I have faked that?” He snapped back sharply.
“You could’ve just played a sound and then let out some beast you caught in the woods or something. Then swapped back.” You reasoned.
He laughed in disbelief. “Your imagination is insane.” He backed up a few feet and tugged his jeans down. You blushed red and stared at the ground.
“I have underwear on. Look at me.” He nearly growled. You hesitated before looking back up at him, focusing on his face.
He backed up another few feet before the ripping sound came back. Jacob crouched down then as he was about to spring up in a jump, he turned into a the wolf from before. His boxers tattered to the grass in shreds. He came up to you and sat a foot away, tilting his head again. You were shocked.
“No fucking way.” You whispered. Jacob stood up and took a step towards you. You backed up a step before tripping on a branch and falling on your ass. The wolf barked in what sort of sounded like laughter.
“Oh ha, ha. I see you still have your sense of humor. Asshole.” You grumbled as you pulled yourself up and dusted off your butt.
The wolf picked up the jeans in his maw before trotting back behind the shed. A rip, and Jacob was jogging back over in his jeans again, his shirt and jacket in his arms.
“You believe me now?” He huffed.
“…yeah.” You mumbled.
“Good. Now let’s get you inside. You’re shivering.” He said and pulled you into his side, guiding you back towards the house.
He sat you on the couch before heading to his bedroom. He came back a minute later in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He plopped down beside you and leaned his arm behind your head.
“So? What’s it like knowing your friend’s a shapeshifter?” He teased with a stupid smirk.
“Not great considering he ghosted me and got ‘mono’ and I only found out because I’m his imprint or whatever.” You bit back.
He grimaced and pulled his arm back to his side. “Sorry. We’re not supposed to tell people about it. And I was going to, that’s the whole reason I invited you over. The imprint thing was unexpected on both ends.”
You rolled your eyes. “Bet you told Bella.” You mumbled under your breath. You were a bit jealous of Bella as of late. Before the ghosting he’d been hanging out with her a lot more than with you. You’d already been missing him before he cut contact completely.
Jacob’s face pinched. “I didn’t. She figured it out.”
You froze. “So she knows? She knows the secret that you’re not supposed to tell anyone?” Your voice was quiet and tight.
“I can’t exactly control what she does or doesn’t do. And she knew some shit already.” He retorted.
“Knew what? Or is that still a secret?” You pressed.
Jacob huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t owe you an explanation. It’s not like we were that close before anyway.”
Your brows furrowed. “Are you fucking kiddding me?”
Jacob took a sharp breath in and exhaled slowly. “Look, there’s shapeshifters - werewolves or whatever - and there’s vampires. The Cullens, the doctor and his family that used to live here, they’re vampires.”
You opened your mouth to deny it but froze. If there were werewolves, surely there were vampires.
“Bella knew they were vampires and I was the one who told her. I thought it was bullshit, then I turned into a wolf.” He chuckled. “But when I explained the vampire stuff I told her about how they were enemies of the wolves. She remembered when I pulled away and put the pieces together cause her dad’s been on the hunt for wolves recently.”
You nodded, feeling like an idiot. “Sorry. For getting jealous.”
“It’s fine.” Jacob mumbled and looked down at his arms.
A thick silence fell over the room.
After a minute you cleared your throat. “So… what now?”
“Uh. I guess we figure out this imprint shit.” He huffed and rubbed his hands on his thighs.
“Yeah.” You murmured.
“So, basically, it’s like over complicated soulmates except only one sided. Kinda.” Jacob explained. “I’ll want to be by your side 24/7 and have bone-deep love for you. Emily says being the imprint is like feeling a pull, I guess, towards the wolf and things feeling ‘right’ when you’re together.”
You nodded along and rubbed your face to try and hide your face heating. “What about that crush you had on Bella?”
“It’s gone now. I think. I don’t know.” He sighed heavily and pat his thighs. “I don’t want you to feel forced into a relationship or anything either way. I don’t wanna fuck things up between us even more over the wolf shit.”
You nodded and dropped your hands to your lap, unsure of what to do. Jacob looked about the same.
Lucky for the two of you, Billy rolled in with Charlie in tow and a loud slam of the front door behind himself.
“Oh. Hey, kid.” Billy said in surprise, looking at you. His gaze shifted slowly to Jacob. “Son.”
Charlie waved his awkward wave. “Hey.”
You and Jacob nodded back. “Um, we’ll get out of your way. There’s basketball on, right?” Jacob said as he stood, then looked down at you.
“Uh, yeah.” Charlie answered.
You and Jacob scampered to his tiny bedroom, he shut and locked to door behind you both. “Well that’ll be fun to explain to my dad later.” He mumbled sarcastically before flopping onto his bed. You hummed and sat beside him.
Jacob turned towards you. “What’re you thinking about?”
“You,” The word came out faster than you wanted and heat creeped up your neck. “And what being an imprint means for us.”
He nodded. “It’s what I’m thinking about too.” His hand twitched before taking yours and giving it a light squeeze. Your hand tingled at the touch and a wave of calm washed over you.
“That feel good?” He asked and you nodded honestly. “Your shoulders finally dropped. They’ve been by your ears since we left Sam’s.”
You huffed in amusement and looked into his eyes. They glinted in the light, almost sparkling.
“Do you wanna just try and be friends again? Before we start thinking about anything else.” Jacob wondered aloud.
Thank you so much for this ask!! I really enjoyed working on this one <3
CW: Implied child abuse, wolf attack, blood, panic attack
Achilles chased after Adair as they ran ahead, giggling softly. They wove swiftly between trees, clearly more familiar with these woods than Achilles was. Still, he indulged in their game, smiling himself at the grin on their face. Just for a second, everything weighing his mind down, all his worries and responsibilities and fears fell away and he could just… be.
He heard a noise in the distance and slowed, noticing quite how far ahead Adair was.
“Hey, ‘dair, slow down a bit,” he called, trying not to inject too much of his usual anxiety into his voice. Adair turned, still moving in the same direction.
“Chill out, Akkie. You’re always so—“
They were interrupted by a sound that made them both stop dead in their tracks. A howl. Achilles froze at the noise, eyes frantically darting about to find the source — when he heard a thud in front of him. Adair had tripped backwards over a tree root and was now flat on their back, staring in fear at something coming out of the shadows. Achilles watched in horror as the wolf emerged, locked onto Adair’s small form, eyes flashing, muscled coiled, lips curling back in a dangerous sneer. Adair didn’t even seem to be breathing, the terror in their eyes visible even from where Achilles was standing a few metres away. Something about that look as Adair’s eyes flicked to meet Achilles’ snapped him out of his stupor. He slowly, slowly made his way forward, mentally rifling through everything he’d been taught about wolves —
snap
Achilles’ gaze whipped down to see the branch he’d just stepped on. Adair’s head snapped up. The wolf’s did too, senses locking onto a new target. And it pounced.
Achilles barely had time to think before his mind registered the claws sinking deep into his shoulder and the weight pinning him to the forest floor. A scream ripped through the air, and it took him a second to realise it was his own. Pain tore through his shoulder and chest, the wolf’s paws pressing down, compressing his ribs further and further…
Adair was running. They had watched the wolf leap at Achilles and take him down with terrifyingly little effort, and without even thinking about it Adair had stood and ran faster than they’d ever done before.
A minute later they arrived at Sarr’s house and pounded on the door, feeling like something was squeezing the air out of their lungs. Chorl answered, his face immediately morphing into one of concern at the hyperventilating pre-teen on his doorstep.
“Hey, hey, just breathe kiddo, what’s happened?”
But Adair was too panicked to suck in enough oxygen to respond. Chorl’s worry deepens and he ushered Adair inside and sat them gently on the sofa.
“Breathe for me, kid. Just breathe. That’s all you need to do, just breathe,” Chorl instructed gently. At this point Sarr and Misken had heard the commotion and entered to see Adair’s panic attack. Sarr ran over to his friend, taking their hand in his. A flash of clarity sparked in Adair’s eyes at the touch.
Tell me what happened? Sarr signed. Adair breathed in and signed back with a shaking hand, Achilles. Wolf. Help.
Sarr’s eyes widened and he quickly relayed the message to his parents, who leapt into action at once. Chorl stood and told Misken, “Call emergency services, then their father,” before turning back to Adair.
“Show me.”
Adair led Chorl into the woods to the spot they’d left Achilles in. The wolf had disappeared without a trace — except for the scarily still body half-covered by the undergrowth. Adair drew back with a whimper when they saw Achilles’ ashen face, but Chorl knelt beside him, checking his blood-splattered wrist for a pulse. The poor boy looked awful; he had deep gashes across his chest and stomach, and what looked like bite marks in one shoulder, and all of the wounds were bleeding heavily. Chorl felt a wave of horror at the sight, but then a spark of relief as he felt the weak beat of a pulse. He carefully lifted the boy into his arms, wincing at the low whine of pain it elicited, and turning back to Adair, whose face was wet with tears they hadn’t seemed to notice, eyes fixed on their brother as Chorl led them back to the house.
Back inside, Misken was on the phone to Adair’s father, clearly struggling.
“No, sir— no, just listen, we didn’t know until— no, I’ve called them already, I- I—“
Chorl laid Achilles down on the sofa as delicately as he could, then turned to take the phone from his husband.
“Mr. de Caine? It’s Chorl Cadenza, yes— both of your children are here, I believe they were involved in a wolf attack. Achilles is seriously injured, but we’ve called the emergency services. We’re in the cottage on the other side of the woods, we’ll see you soon.”
Chorl hung up as de Caine spewed off angry questions. If he wanted to be angry, he could do it later. The sound of sirens grew closer and Chorl opened the door to let the paramedics inside and inform them of what had happened.
Then one asked to speak to Adair.
Chorl glanced at the child, noting how pale and drawn they looked, rocking back and forth slightly on their chair as they watched Achilles, unblinking.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, they’re very shaken up—“
“Sir, we need to know exactly what happened so we can best help their brother.”
Chorl still hesitated, but he knew she was right. He walked over to Adair, sitting down next to them.
“Kade, can you hear me?”
Adair nodded affirmative, but didn’t take their eyes off the scene in front of them.
“Kade, the paramedic needs to ask you a few questions, if it’s alright with you.”
Adair looked at him then, and the paramedic, not looking alright in the slightest but nodding regardless.
The paramedic knelt down in front of them and smiled kindly.
“Okay, Adair, is it?”
They nodded.
“Great, and Achilles is your brother, is that correct? Can you tell me how old he is?”
“S-s-seventeen,” Adair whispered.
“Alright, thank you, and can you tell me what happened?”
Adair hesitated, and Chorl wrapped an arm around them, anchoring them.
“We… we were in the woods and I was running… he told me to slow down… the-then we heard the howl and I tripped. The wolf came after me first but Akkie stepped on a t-t-twig and-d then… and then it got him. And I ran away. It’s all my fault,” they finished, new tears filling their eyes. Chorl’s hold on them tightened.
“Hey, it’s not your fault, okay, kid? You did exactly the right thing coming here.”
The paramedic nodded her agreement.
“He’s right, Adair. You saved your brother’s life. He’s going to be okay, thanks to you.”
Adair looked up to meet her gaze but then they noticed the other paramedics taking Achilles outside, and panic returned to their expression.
“W-wait, where are you taking him, wait—“
They stood on shaky legs and started after him, but the paramedic gently blocked their path.
“Hey, it’s okay, they’re taking him to the hospital,” she explained.
“But, but you said he’d be fine,” they replied accusingly, still craning their neck to see their brother disappear into an ambulance.
“He will be, but we can’t fix him up here. Trust us, Adair. He’ll be okay.”
“Listen to her, Kade,” Chorl chimed in softly. Adair looked up at Chorl, his grounding touch helping calm them a little.
“Well, can I go with him?”
The paramedic shook her head.
“Sorry, honey, we need to wait until your dad gets here.”
Chorl noticed Adair flinch a little at the mention of their father, and the fight drained out of them.
“Okay,” they murmured, sitting back down and wrapping their arms around themself.
The paramedic met Chorl’s eyes and gestured for them to have a word in private.
“Do you know if everything’s alright at home?” she asked.
Alarm bells switched on in Chorl’s mind.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I noticed that Adair has some injuries that weren’t from the attack — the type that we sometimes look for with kids living in dangerous homes. What are their parents like?”
Chorl stared at her, a ghost of hope igniting in his chest.
“You really think you can help them?”
She laid a hand on his arm. “Sir, if something’s going on, we need to know. Then, yes, we can help in any way we—“
They were interrupted by the sound of someone striding through the front door.
“Where is my son?” Angus de Caine demanded.
Chorl noticed the paramedic stiffen in shock next to him, her face paling.
“He’s their father?” she muttered shakily under her breath.
“Well, yes, but—“
Chorl couldn’t say any more as de Caine stormed over to them.
“Where is he?”
“Mr. de Caine, please calm down, he’s okay, he’s—“
De Caine glared at Chorl, cutting him off.
“Don’t tell me to calm down, Cadenza. I know what you’re like. Putting ideas in my child’s head, and now putting the other one in danger!”
Misken had reappeared at Chorl’s side and now addressed de Caine.
“Don’t talk to him like that. He’s the reason Achilles is alive right now.”
De Caine opened his mouth to respond, then caught sight of Adair, shrinking back against the chair. He shot them a withering look.
“Why aren’t you with your brother?” he demanded harshly.
“I— I—“
Adair could barely get another word out before de Caine had grabbed them by the sleeve and dragged them out, the paramedic quickly following, spouting apologies and reassurances about Achilles’ condition. Chorl followed after her.
“Wait— do you want to continue our… conversation later?” he asked desperately.
The paramedic looked panicked as she glanced between Chorl and de Caine.
“I don’t think that’s necessary— have a good day, sir…”
And she disappeared, along with de Caine and Adair, leaving Chorl feeling helpless as that spark of hope for Adair was snuffed out.
Tags: @everestnotmountain, Aventurine x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Angst, Comfort, Panic Attack, Overstimulation, Emotional Support, Mental Health Awareness, Anxiety, Vulnerability, Coping Mechanisms, Quiet Strength.
Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks and overstimulation, Descriptions of anxiety symptoms, Themes of emotional vulnerability and distress, Light references to survivor's guilt (Aventurine), Heavy emotional content.
A/N: Hi!! I'm so glad you enjoy my writing! 💖 And I’m really sorry to hear you’ve been struggling with panic attacks and overstimulation, but I'm so proud of you for toughing it out and finding what helps. 🫂 Anxiety medicine is a big win, so yippie indeed! 🙌
Sending you lots of strength and positive vibes! You’ve got this! 💖 And thank you for sharing, it means a lot. Wishing you a peaceful rest of your day too!
The warm hum of the room buzzes like static in your ears, the lights far too bright, the voices too loud. You try to breathe, slow and steady, but the air feels thick, suffocating. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that drowns out every other sound, until it’s the only thing you can hear. You grip the edge of the table, your fingers trembling as your vision swims in and out of focus.
You’ve been here before.
Aventurine’s voice cuts through the noise, his familiar tone both calm and sharp. “Ah, you're not looking so well, darling.” He leans into your space, his eyes catching yours, a gentle spark of concern hidden beneath his usual, charismatic smile. “Easy now. Take a breath with me, alright?”
His presence is like a quiet storm—smooth, powerful, yet never pushing too hard. He steps a little closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “It’s just a game, you know. Nothing you can’t handle. You’ve been through worse.” He pauses for a moment, allowing you to settle into the rhythm of his words, steady and controlled.
You take a shaky breath, trying to match his calm.
“There. Now another one. Slow and deep, just like you would when planning your next big move. Breathe in, breathe out.”
He’s right beside you, never forcing, never rushing. His hand hovers close to your back, like a tether that pulls you back to the present, the here and now. He doesn’t need to touch you, not really. His presence is enough—a strange paradox, like a man who thrives on risk yet knows when to hold steady.
“Look at me, love. Focus here. There’s no game to play, no stakes to raise.” His words linger in the air like soft smoke, wrapping you in an invisible cocoon. “You’re safe here. I’ll make sure of that. You just need to trust me for a moment, yeah?”
The gentle rhythm of his voice, the unwavering calm, helps you breathe again. You’re still trembling, but the world feels a little less suffocating. His smile, though, remains constant, even if there’s something else—something softer—behind it.
“Good. You’re doing just fine. Remember, nothing’s out of your control, not while I’m here.”
The world feels distant, muffled as if you’re underwater. The bustling of the Astral Express, the creak of the floor beneath your feet—it all blends into a constant, oppressive pressure. Your pulse races in your ears, too fast, too loud, and every breath feels like it’s just out of reach. You try to steady yourself, but the overwhelming sensation only deepens, and your vision blurs. Panic surges up from your chest, threatening to drown you.
Then, a steady presence, quiet but unmistakable, is beside you.
“Breathe. In and out.” Dan Heng’s voice is low, controlled, like a calm anchor in the chaos of your mind. His tone isn’t one of pity or urgency, but something closer to quiet understanding.
His spear, rests against the floor, but his attention is on you—completely unwavering. Without saying anything more, he steps closer, close enough that his presence is grounding. You focus on him, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight shift of his weight as he stands just at your side.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs, voice as calm as the night sky. “Focus on me. You’re here. Nothing’s going to happen.”
For a moment, you’re unsure if you can trust your senses, but you focus on the sound of his voice, the quiet firmness in it. Each breath you take aligns with his, the calm settling around you like a protective shell.
His movements are subtle, measured. He doesn’t crowd you, doesn’t rush you. It’s as though he’s waiting for you to find your footing, silently assuring you that it’s okay to take your time. He’s patient.
“Good,” he says softly, when your breathing starts to steady. “That’s it. Just like that.”
Dan Heng doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t push you to explain. He simply stays with you, offering silent comfort. There’s no judgment in his presence—only quiet strength. And as you steady yourself, the world feels a little less overwhelming.
“It’s not easy, I know,” he continues after a while, his voice soft but steady. “But you’ll make it through. One breath at a time.”
You nod, the weight on your chest lifting ever so slightly. And for once, it feels like the past is a little further away, buried beneath the reassurance of his presence.
Full blown panic attack and the only release is making sure my lip is bleeding. Then I listen to Kung Fu Panda 2 over and over again, while my ghost shaped nightlight accompanied me.
I almost reached for my phone to ask a friend if he is still awake and might stay on call with me for a bit, but I cried over the idea of him witnessing me with tenderness in his voice and passed out.
I had to leave the window open, otherwise I'd feel like there is no air in the room. I put on three layers of clothes, a beanie and pulled the hood over my head.
Back in the days, I would go to school the next day as if nothing had happened. Now I keep going over my days knwing it might happen again soon. It's scary in the moment, but the second I get some distance to the pain, it's just another Wednesday night that I get to spend listening to Kung Fu Panda 2.
If anyone has tips on how to stop biting one's lips bloody at any given opportunity of stress, please share them! It got so severe, I do it while being asleep and it's pissing me off.
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After Meicoomon's destruction, the DigiDestined believed the worst was over.
They were wrong.
With their wounds still open, a new conflict draws them back to the Digital World: Yggdrasill is creating copies of them from the memories extracted from their kidnapped friends, building an artificial network capable of replacing them.
As they face the threat of corrupted reflections, Yamato and Taichi must resolve the pending issues from their last adventure, heal old wounds, and decide what to do with their feelings when everything blows up in their faces... again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
