#so this is my chance to prove myself. this is my chance to finally put my skills to the test. to see if I really am as good as people say
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Ellis Twilight~ Main Route Chapter 4
Disclaimer for route warnings | Masterlist
Additional Content Warnings: The sprite at the end of the chapter is a bit unsettling
This a fan translation so it is definitely not 100% accurate. I do not own anything related to Ikemen Villains. Support Cybird by buying their amazing stories!
Part 1
We heard a story that sounded like a kidnapping incident.
In exchange for the information, we were asked to help with the performance.
Kate: “I understand, I’ll cooperate.”
Performer with a fancy hat: “Are you sure? There’s no guarantee that you’ll be 100% successful, right?”
(But he must be confident of success if he’s approaching us with this type of negotiation.)
However, this performance is a one-off deal.
As he said, 100% success is impossible.
(If we’re willing to accept that and surrender ourselves to that chance, then he’ll tell us. This man is testing us.)
(In that case…)
Kate: “I believe in this man’s skills.”
I suppressed my fear and smiled broadly.
Ellis: “…”
Performer with a fancy hat: “Ha ha ha! I see! Well if that’s how it’s going to be, we’ll just have to go for it!”
He grabbed me and Ellis’ hands tightly.
As we shook hands to confirm the deal, I looked up at the sky, resisting the urge to run away.
(I’ll somehow succeed and get this information…!)
When Bill, the performer, got on stage, he put on a performance that made good use of us.
Bill: “If the knife sticks in the apple on your head, please give us a round of applause!”
The thing I feared didn’t happen, and the knife throwing technique was executed brilliantly.
Each time, the venue was filled with applause and cheers.
And the final trick was--.
Bill: “Ah! What’s this! A magic chain has entangled the lovers!”
Ellis’ left hand and my right hand were tied together with a chain.
(What, what…!?)
Bill: “Now hold each other’s hands tightly.”
Ellis: “…right.”
While I was feeling nervous about the unexpected situation, Ellis simply smiled.
He held my hand tightly as if to reassure me.
Our fingers intertwined alternately and our palms overlapped perfectly.
Ellis: “It’s okay… Even if something happens, I’ll take care of it.”
Kate: “Ellis…”
Bill: “Two people bound by magical chains and unable to move—”
Bill: “When the spell on this chain is broken, will true love exist between these two!?”
The venue heated up as we got close to each other on stage and with Bill’s sensational speech
Bill snapped his fingers and –
(Wa…!)
The chain that was tangled around my wrist fell to the ground with a thud—
A beautiful pale purple rose was blooming between me and Ellis’ hands.
Ellis: “Woah.”
Kate: “Amazing…!!”
Of course, it was my first experience seeing flowers suddenly blooming from my empty hands.
My eyes grew wide at the vivid magic trick and I looked up at Ellis.
Bill: “Look! The flower of true love is blooming between the two of them!”
Cheers erupted from the audience.
Bill: “A big round of applause from everyone to the two lovers who proved their love!”
Audience: “Bravo!”
Audience: “Propose to her!”
Ellis: “…Well then. Do you want to?”
Kate: “Well, I don’t think it’s necessary to go that far…”
Even though the chains had broken, Ellis still held my hand…
(My cheeks are hot…)
I tried to reason with myself that my pounding heart was due to the excitement of the successful performance.
I bowed deeply at the end, holding hands with Ellis.
Part 2
When Bill’s stage curtain came down safely and he stepped off the stage—
Kate: “Wha—ah!”
Suddenly, my whole body loses strength and I collapse on the spot.
(Wow, my legs are shaking now…)
Ellis: “…Kate, are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?”
Kate: “No, I’m okay. I was just relieved and when I relaxed…”
When I put my hands on my trembling knees and smiled, Ellis bent down and looked at me with a surprised look on his face.
Ellis: “Before, weren’t you feeling pretty confident?”
Kate: “Of course, I knew Bill was confident in his skills.”
Kate: “Even if I fail, I’ll get through it somehow! That’s what I told myself…”
Kate: “Ah… That’s good…”
I let out the anxiety I’d been holding in with a long sigh.
Ellis: “…”
Looking at me like that, Ellis slowly relaxed his face.
Ellis: “…You’re a hard worker.”
Kate: “Huh? That’s not true.”
Ellis: “…yeah it is.”
Ellis: “Kate, you’re a wonderful person.”
--I realized something.
(Ellis’ words have no hidden meaning behind them, which is why he’s loved so much by everyone.)
Pure words with no alternate intent reach straight to the heart.
(…I still can’t get used to having his face this close though…)
Kate: “Thank you…”
I was embarrassed to make eye contact, so I lowered my head when I spoke…
Bill: “Wow! You two are the best!”
After finishing his closing remarks, Bill came running up to us.
Bill: “Wouldn’t it be better to change your careers to street performers? Especially the tall guy!”
Ellis: “I’m glad it was a success.”
Bill: “How about those cheers?”
My face naturally relaxed as I heard the sound of finger whistles and applause coming from behind the stage.
Kate: “I’m glad we made them happy!”
Bill: “Right? Every time I have a successful show, I feel like it may be my happiest moment. I don’t care if I died right now!”
Ellis: “…”
--Ellis’ eyes stopped staring at one point.
Bill: “But, when I wake up after drinking to celebrate, I think, wow. I can make something even better!”
Bill: “I’m going to see more of the world I don’t know! That’s it!”
Kate: “Hehe, that’s wonderful! I’m rooting for you too!”
Ellis: “…”
For some reason, at that moment… there was something sad about Ellis’ expression as he stared at Bill.
(Ellis…?)
Ellis: “…I hope you can continue to feel that way forever.”
Bill: “Oh, that’s right! Your reward for your trust and cooperation was information.”
(…! That’s right, we have to ask about the kidnapping incidents.)
Remembering our mission, I suddenly became stiff.
Kate: “Yes. Could you please tell me about your friends who disappeared?”
Bill’s smile disappeared and he slowly opened his mouth.
Bill: “I have lost contact with several of my comrades, including the two who disappeared today.”
Ellis: “…When was that? Did you notice anything in common?”
Bill: “The timing is different. Two today. Before that, one a few weeks ago, another a few months ago.”
Bill: “I don’t know if they have anything in common, but I think they were drinking with someone before they disappeared, and they were telling a strange story.”
Kate: “Strange story…?”
Bill: “Somehow, they were recruited to join the ‘circus’”
Part 3
Bill: “Somehow, they were recruited to join the ‘circus’”
(Circus…?)
Bill: “The person who recruited them seemed to be a notable figure who was very active in the past.”
Bill: “The last time I spoke to them was when they were going to meet up with the man and hear his story.”
Ellis: “Is there anything you know about this very active, notable figure?”
Bill: “I heard that about 20 years ago, he was a big hit at the box office and became very rich, but as far as his name…”
Bill didn’t have any more information…we thanked him and took our leave.
Kate: “It’s not much, but we’ve got a lead.”
Ellis: “Yeah. I’m glad it was worth the effort.”
Ellis smiled and gently tucked the rose that was created on stage behind my ear.
Ellis: “…Yeah, it really suits you. So cute.”
(Uh…)
The performance just now may have been seen by the people in town who had been talking to Ellis.
Some of them may be in love with Ellis…
There might even be someone that Ellis will fall in love with.
(We’ll continue to work together from now on.)
(If Ellis keeps behaving like this, the people around him might misunderstand him.)
Kate: “Ellis. You should only do things like that for someone you like.”
Ellis: “…what kind of things?”
Kate: “Talking so close to someone, putting flowers in their hair, calling them cute…”
Ellis: “Aren’t you happy, Kate?”
***Choices***
1. That’s what it is! +2 +4
**2. I am happy. +4 +4**
3. That’s not it… +4 +2
******************************************************************
Kate: “That’s…”
I was at a loss for words when he looked at me with those pure eyes.
Kate: “…I am happy.”
Ellis: “I’m happy.”
At my reply, Ellis’ had a happy smile on his lips.
Ellis: “…If it’s going to cause you trouble, Kate, I’ll be careful not to do it too much.”
Ellis: “But if I want you to smile, I might do it again.”
Part 4
Ellis: “…If it’s going to cause you trouble, Kate, I’ll be careful not to do it too much.”
Ellis: “But if I want you to smile, I might do it again.”
Ellis: “If you don’t like it, let me know then.”
(Ellis… Ellis…)
He might be an incredible person.
If someone continued to be showered with such overly sweet jam-like kindness, I’m sure anyone would drown.
(I should be careful… I’m sure Ellis is like this to everyone.)
(If I fell in love with him by misunderstanding, it will be a big problem…)
I warned myself not to take Ellis’ words and actions seriously.
Kate: “…Got it. When that happens, I’ll make sure to tell you properly.”
(There’s no way I wouldn’t like Ellis’ kindness…)
I decided to at least make sure not to misjudge the distance.
Kate: “Then…are we supposed to meet up with Jude?”
Ellis: “Nope. We didn’t decide where to meet up, so I don’t think he was planning to meet up.”
Ellis: “My guess is, he’s planning to share information after we return to the castle.”
(He understands that even though they didn’t discuss it at all… it’s amazing!)
(Now that I think about it, the reason he’s with Jude…)
(I didn’t get a chance to hear Ellis’ ‘request’)
…In exchange for Ellis working for Jude, Jude will grant Ellis’ request.
(Then that’s why you’ll be together until then.)
I’m curious as to what kind of request he made in exchange for his labor--.
(I’ll ask again another time.)
For now the kidnapping case was the priority.
Kate: “Then, shall we return to the castle before sunset?”
As I was about to start walking, a long arm stretched out in front of me.
Ellis: “…Before we go, why don’t we take a little detour?”
Kate: “Detour?”
Ellis: “This.”
When Ellis closed his empty palm and opened it again,
As if by magic, a piece of paper with a beautiful design appeared from the cuff of his jacket.
Ellis: “Actually, I asked Liam to get them yesterday.”
Kate: “…! Is this…!”
It was a ticket to the theater show that I wanted to see so badly.
(And the date—It’s today!?)
Ellis: “…Wanna go?”
Kate: “Let’s go!”
Ellis: “……”
(Ah… I was really forward in my reply)
Kate: “That is, If there’s no one else that you wanted to invite… I’d like to go.”
Ellis: “…Hehe. You really are such a cute person.”
Ellis: “I got them because you said you liked going to the theater.”
Ellis: “So… the person I wanted to invite was you, Kate.”
Part 5
Ellis: “I got them because you said you liked going to the theater.”
Ellis: “So… the person I wanted to invite was you, Kate.”
We talked about so many different things, and unlike me, Ellis didn’t even take notes.
(He remembered what I liked.)
Kate: “…Thank you.”
Ellis smiled happily, just like he did when he heard the gratitude from the people in town earlier.
Even though it wasn’t an exaggeration, I was captivated by the immense power of that smile.
(Ellis really likes to make people happy.)
Yesterday and today, I have been delighted by Ellis’ kindness, as if wrapped in soft cotton--.
(I decided not to misjudge the distance between us, but as soon as I let my guard down, I could easily lose my sense of distance.)
Ellis: “Now that I think about it, it’s almost time for the performance.” 9125
Kate: “Really? –Oh you’re right! We have to hurry…!”
We ran through the streets of London, aiming for the theater.
I kept thinking that I needed to calm down, but
My heart was pounding… just like it had been before the curtain went up on stage.
Kate: “Ah, that was great… I’m so happy right now.”
Ellis: “Good… It’s the first time I’ve seen your face look so relaxed.”
The moment at the theater felt like being in a dream.
As I walked along the road, dyed in twilight, my heart was filled with happiness.
(I managed to complete my first mission, and I was able to watch such a wonderful play.)
(All thanks to Ellis.)
(I can’t believe that the day before yesterday, I thought I might die…)
Kate: “Ellis, thank you so much.”
Ellis: “…No, don’t worry about it.”
The setting sun casts its last rays of light through the buildings.
Ellis’ face was a dark shadow against the bright light, making it difficult to see his expression clearly.
A time when light and darkness coexist, and the world seems to be wrapped in a veil, making it difficult to tell whether what you see is reality or not.
(Even as a postal worker, I had the most trouble seeing at dusk.)
When I squinted against the orange light…
Ellis: “…Hey, Kate.”
Kate: “Yes?”
Ellis: “How happy are you right now?”
I answered the question posed to me from the twilit-light with a big smile.
Kate: “I feel like my life could end right now!”
Ellis: “…I see.”
Ellis: “Then, how about I end it?”
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Bet on It
Charles Leclerc x Marko!Reader
Summary: Charles will do anything for you to finally give him the time of day … even if that means betting on himself to pull off the impossible in exchange for a date with you
“Charles, don’t even start,” you raise your hand to stop him before he can get the words out.
His mouth closes and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes, like a sad little boy who just got told he can’t have ice cream before dinner.
You have to resist the urge to laugh. Does he really think that’s going to work on you? You’ve seen that look a hundred times before, whenever you turn him down for a date.
Which is every time he’s asked.
“Come on, Y/N,” he pleads. “Just one date, that’s all I’m asking for.”
You shake your head, arms crossed over your chest. “Nope, not gonna happen.”
He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. That tousled mop looks like it hasn’t seen a comb in days. Somehow he manages to make the just-rolled-out-of-bed look work.
“Give me one good reason why not,” he challenges.
“I’ll give you three,” you fire back. “One, you’re an F1 driver, which means you have an ego the size of a not-so-small country. Two, you’re my team’s biggest rival. And three, you’re a player.”
He puts a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Moi? I would never.”
You fix him with a pointed stare and his innocent act crumbles.
“Okay fine, maybe I used to be,” he admits. “But I’m not like that anymore. I’m ready to settle down, and I want to do that with you.”
“Uh huh, sure you are,” you say skeptically. “I’m not some pitlane groupie. I don’t just fall all over myself for handsome drivers with dreamy eyes.”
His face lights up. “You think I have dreamy eyes?”
You feel your cheeks flush. Crap. You did not mean to let that slip out.
“That’s not the point,” you say quickly. “The point is, the answer is no. It’s always going to be no. So you can stop asking me out already.”
You turn on your heel to walk away, but he reaches out and gently grabs your wrist. You pause, looking back at him.
“Just one date,” he says again, green eyes boring into yours. “Give me a chance to prove myself. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll never ask you out again.”
You consider his offer. One date, that’s all he’s asking for. And really, what’s the harm? It’s not like you have to marry the guy if you go to dinner with him once.
Still … this is Charles Leclerc you’re dealing with. Who knows what kind of charms and flirtatious tricks he’d pull out to try and win you over? You know you find him attractive — those eyes really are dreamy — but getting involved with him would be messy, to say the least. Your grandfather would flip.
“I don’t think so,” you say firmly. “Like I already told you, it’s not going to happen.”
His face falls. For a second you feel a twinge of guilt. He looks so dejected. But then that spark of mischief is back in his eyes. Uh oh. You know that look. The wheels are turning. He’s got an idea.
“Okay, how about we make this interesting,” he says slowly. “If I win the race this weekend, you have to go on a date with me.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. Is he serious right now?
“Let me get this straight … you want to make a bet involving the outcome of the race, when it’s at the Red Bull Ring, our team’s home track, where Max has won four times in the last six seasons? With the rocket ship of a car that is the RB20?” You shake your head in disbelief. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “I never said it was a sure thing. But if I manage to pull it off, then you have to hold up your end of the bargain.”
You consider his proposition. On the one hand, the chances of him winning in the Ferrari this weekend are not great. Statistically, Max is the clear favorite. So there’s really no risk of you actually having to go on a date with Charles.
On the other hand, you have to admit the idea is intriguing. And knowing Charles beat the odds to win would be kinda hot ...
Wait, what are you thinking? Get it together, Y/N! This is a terrible idea.
But before you can talk yourself out of it, you hear yourself saying, “Alright, you’re on.”
A wide grin spreads across Charles’ handsome face. “Yeah? We have a bet then?”
You nod, already wondering if you’ve made a huge mistake. “Yep. But don’t look so cocky. The chances of you winning are like a million to one.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink. Then he glances down at his watch. “I better go. See you in part fermé after the race.”
He turns and saunters off. You watch him go, heart sinking. What on earth have you just agreed to?
***
Your stomach is in knots on race day. You tried to play it cool in front of Charles, but the truth is, you are desperately hoping he does not win this race. One date with him and you know you’ll be a goner. You’re already more attracted to him than you want to admit.
You watch from the Red Bull garage as the cars go around on the formation lap. Charles is starting P5, with Max on pole. The odds are heavily in the World Champion’s favor.
But still … plenty of drivers have won from worse positions. And this is Charles Leclerc you’re talking about. When he sets his mind to something, he’s unstoppable.
The red lights go out and Max gets a clean start, streaking away into the lead. Charles has a decent launch off the line too, but he can’t challenge Max going into turn 1. He slots into P5 behind Lando Norris as they thunder down the straight for the first time.
Your grandfather shoots you a look from across the garage, one eyebrow quirked. He knows about the bet. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when you told him, but amusement seemed to win out over anger in the end. Probably because he’s just as confident as you are that Charles has no chance today.
The race unfolds lap after lap. Max opens up a huge gap while fighting rages behind him. Charles battles with the Mercedes of Lewis Hamilton, exchanging positions several times. By lap 20, Charles is up to P4, having pulled off a stellar overtake around the outside of turn 7.
Half distance comes and goes. Charles is closing in on Checo and George Russell ahead of him. He’s clearly got the bit between his teeth today. You watch with bated breath as he pulls alongside the Red Bull and Mercedes into turn 4, the three drivers going wheel to wheel with barely any room to spare. Charles emerges ahead and suddenly he’s P2.
Your grandfather shoots you another look. “He’s on the podium,” he remarks.
You bite your lip. You don’t need the reminder. Ugh, you knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.
With 15 laps to go, Max’s engine unexpectedly lets go in a plume of smoke. Your grandfather curses while the Red Bull mechanics stare at the screens in disbelief. Charles swoops through into P1 with Checo behind him, the Ferrari now running up a solid lead.
Barring disaster, Charles is going to win this race. Which means you’re going to have to go on a date with him.
You watch the final laps tick down with growing dread. The checkered flag waves and the Ferrari garage erupts in celebration. Charles pulls the car to a stop and rips off his helmet, beaming from ear to ear. Even from here you can see the pure joy and elation on his face.
He jumps out of the cockpit and is immediately mobbed by his team. You try to slip away unnoticed, but one of the Ferrari press officers flags you down.
“Charles wants to see you for the podium celebration,” he says.
You close your eyes briefly in defeat. There’s no getting out of this now. Slowly you follow the man out to the cool down room. Charles is just coming out, still flushed with victory. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.
“I told you I could do it,” he crows, pulling you into an exuberant hug before you can protest. He smells like petrol and sweat.
“Yeah, yeah, congratulations,” you mumble into his race suit.
He grins down at you. “Don’t look so sad. I promise you’ll have fun.”
You force a smile, but inside your heart is sinking. One date with Charles and you know you’ll never be able to resist him again.
The podium passes in a blur. You manage to avoid any interviews, not trusting yourself not to say something you’ll regret on camera. Like what a cocky, arrogant, too-handsome-for-his-own-good flirt Charles is.
After what feels like an eternity of spraying champagne and cheering crowds, Charles finally finds you again. His hair is still damp and curled wildly from the celebratory drink.
Charles playfully wipes a splash of sparkling wine from your cheek, his touch lingering for a moment.
“Sorry about that,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.
You just shake your head, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. His joy is infectious.
“I believe you owe me a date,” he says, looking far too pleased with himself.
You sigh, resigned to your fate. “I guess I did make a deal. When do you want to do this?”
“No time like the present.” He glances at his watch. “I’ll pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.”
Your eyes widen. Tonight? You were hoping to have a little more time to mentally prepare yourself. But before you can object, he leans in and presses a swift kiss to your cheek.
“See you tonight, Y/N.”
Then he’s gone, strolling back to the Ferrari garage like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile, your heart is thudding against your ribs. You touch your cheek where his lips branded your skin.
You just hope you have the strength not to give in to his charms completely. One date. That’s it. You are not going to fall for Charles Leclerc.
No matter how dreamy his eyes are.
***
The doorbell rings at 7pm sharp. You take a deep breath and smooth down your dress before opening the door.
Charles stands there looking unfairly handsome in a sharp charcoal suit. His eyes light up when he sees you.
“Wow,” he says, gaze traveling appreciatively over you. “You look amazing.”
You feel yourself blush. “Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He grins and offers you his arm. “Shall we?”
You loop your hand through his elbow and let him lead you to his car. He opens the door for you like a true gentleman. This sweet, chivalrous side is one you’ve never seen before. Already he’s subverting your expectations.
During the drive, Charles asks you questions and listens intently to your answers. He’s completely focused on you, making you feel like the most fascinating person in the world. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, a lovely Italian place near the city center, you’re feeling much more at ease.
Dinner passes enjoyably with playful, flirtatious conversation. Charles has you laughing one minute and blushing the next with his charm and undivided attention. He seems to know just what to say to make you smile. Not an ounce of cockiness or ego shows through.
After you polish off a shared tiramisu, Charles suggests a walk through the nearby park. You happily agree. As you stroll beneath the trees, he tentatively reaches for your hand. When you thread your fingers through his, the smile that lights up his face melts your heart.
You talk softly, learning more about each other. He asks thoughtful questions and shares things about himself that surprise you. Like his close relationship with his family, his secret talent for cooking (which you don’t believe for a second), and his love for composing music.
When he shyly admits he’s never felt this way about anyone before, you don’t doubt his sincerity for a moment. He means every word.
Too soon you’ve looped back to where you started and flag down the valet before making the drive back to the hotel. Charles walks you to your door, still holding your hand like he never wants to let go.
“I had a really nice time tonight,” you say softly.
“Me too.” He moves closer, searching your eyes. “I’d really like to see you again.”
Your breath catches at his closeness and the intensity in his gaze. The wise thing would be to end this now before it goes any further. But his hopeful, heart eyes crumble your resolve.
“I’d like that too,” you whisper.
A smile blooms on his face right before he leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and sweet, sending tingles down to your toes. When he pulls back, eyes shining, you know you’re a goner.
One date turns into two, then three, then suddenly you’re spending every weekend together, traveling between races. Charles goes out of his way to meet up with you, even when it means long flights in between events. Holding you in his arms seems to be the only thing that matters.
When he shyly asks you to be his girlfriend, you don’t hesitate a second before saying yes. The kiss he gives you leaves no doubt about his happiness.
Your grandfather is wary at first, but Charles is relentless, assuring him at every chance how deeply he cares about you. Eventually Helmut accepts that the man gazing at you like you hung the stars is nothing like the flirtatious playboy he assumed.
This is the real Charles — sweet, thoughtful, and absolutely devoted.
The two of you become inseparable. Charles arrives at every race with your hand clasped in his, making sure to greet your grandfather before and after with a handshake and sincere well wishes. He stays close through successes and disappointments, as you become his steadfast supporter.
At night you lay tangled together, talking late into the darkness. He whispers secrets no one else knows and you bare your soul in return. You’ve never felt more understood by someone. In his arms is your favorite place in the world.
When he shyly gives you a key to his Monaco apartment, tears fill your eyes. Calling it home feels as natural as breathing.
Whenever you walk through the door, his eyes light up like you’re the answer to every prayer. He sweeps you into his arms, holding you close as he whispers “I missed you.”
Charles looks at you like he’s seeing his future. “I want this forever,” he murmurs against your lips.
You look into those watercolor eyes and know you never stood a chance at resisting. “Me too.”
***
The new season kicks off and you’re thrilled to be back in the paddock with Charles. The only downside is having to part ways when you reach the garages, going to opposite sides of the divide.
You’ve gotten used to your Red Bull team gear. The colors are familiar, almost comforting. Charles has gently brought up the idea of you wearing Ferrari red instead, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. That would feel like the ultimate betrayal.
Charles accepts your decision with his usual grace. He knows how difficult this situation is for you, caught between loyalties. But the gleam in his eye tells you he hasn’t given up on swaying you yet.
Sure enough, as Monza approaches, Charles issues a new challenge.
“If I win our home race, you have to wear Ferrari merch next time,” he coaxes, punctuating his request with a kiss.
You pretend to think about it. “Hmm, I guess I could do that.” Seeing his smile light up melts your reluctance.
Charles takes pole position on Saturday, amping up the pressure. Still, you’re not too worried. Max has this in the bag.
Famous last words. You really should have learned better the first time.
Only Max doesn’t have it in the bag. Charles drives a flawless race and takes the victory, the Tifosi crowd exploding with delirious joy. Charles standing proudly atop the podium in front of the sea of fans is a sight you’ll never forget.
Now you have to hold up your end of the bargain.
The next race weekend you show up with a red Ferrari team shirt stretched across your shoulders, a matching cap gracing your head. You feel like a fraud, but a deal’s a deal.
You’re trying to sneak through the paddock unnoticed when a reporter flags you down.
“Y/N, care to explain the new look?” She asks, eyeing your outfit.
You shift awkwardly, grasping for words. “Oh, um, well ...”
Before you can formulate a response, an excited voice interrupts. “That’s my girl!”
Charles appears out of nowhere and throws an arm around you, beaming at the camera.
“Everybody’s a Ferrari fan.” He declares. “Even if they say they’re not, they are Ferrari fans.”
He emphasizes this point by planting a kiss directly on your mouth. You flush crimson but can’t help smiling against his lips.
Pulling back, he winks and shoots the camera a million dollar grin. “She looks good in red, no?”
With that he steers you away, leaving the reporter chuckling behind you.
“You’re terrible,” you scold Charles, but you’re laughing too.
He just grins and kisses your temple. “Maybe so, but I’m your terrible boyfriend who you love very much, yes?”
You roll your eyes but snuggle closer into his side. “Yeah, I guess I do.”
Tomorrow you’ll be back in dark blue, but right now, wrapped in Charles’ embrace and seeing how happy it makes him, you can’t bring yourself to mind the color change too much.
Maybe eventually you’ll get used to alternating depending on whose garage you’re watching from that day. It seems Charles Leclerc has more sway over you than you ever could have imagined, enough to override even a lifetime of team loyalties.
And, as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on earth, you can’t find it in yourself to regret that fact one bit.
***
After the stunt Charles pulled with the interview, you decide turnabout is fair play. An idea starts forming, bringing a devious smile to your lips. Time for a little payback.
You bide your time, waiting for the perfect moment. Finally, an off weekend arrives where Charles is staying at your place. When he goes out to run errands on Saturday morning, you set your plan in motion.
A quick trip to Agent Provocateur provides the supplies you need. After Charles leaves, you slip into the dressing room and emerge wearing a sexy red lace teddy that leaves little to the imagination.
Checking yourself in the mirror, you make a few adjustments. The color is Ferrari red through and through. Charles’ eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you in this.
You hear the front door open right on cue. “Mon amour, I’m back!” Charles calls.
“In here!” You reply, reclining casually across the bed. You arrange yourself in a tempting pose and wait.
A moment later Charles appears in the doorway, loaded down with his own shopping bags. When he spots you, he freezes, jaw dropping. The bags tumble unheeded to the floor.
You bite your lip coyly. “Welcome home.”
“What … I … you …” Charles stammers, eyes round as saucers as they rove over you. He seems incapable of forming a coherent thought.
You toss your hair back with exaggerated nonchalance. “Oh this old thing? Just trying on some new clothes. What do you think?”
Charles makes a strangled noise, still rooted to the spot.
You take pity on him and pat the bed. “Why don’t you come over here and show me how much you like it?”
That snaps him out of his stupor. In two strides he’s across the room, mouth capturing yours hungrily. You melt into his kiss, winding your arms around his neck.
When you finally come up for air, his eyes are blazing. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
You trail a fingertip down his chest. “Payback for your little stunt.”
He grins sheepishly. “Okay, I deserved that. But this ...” His heated gaze travels over you again. “You look incredible. Only one thing would make it better ...”
He hurries over to his gear bag, rummaging excitedly. With a flourish, he produces his cap, a large 16 prominently embroidered on the front. Plopping it on your head, he steps back to admire the effect.
“Perfect,” he declares. Taking your hand, he tugs you to the full length mirror.
The vision staring back makes you catch your breath. The red teddy clinging to every curve, paired with Charles’ cap tilted rakishly on top of cascading hair … you have to admit it’s hot. No wonder Charles looks ready to combust.
His arms slide around you from behind, lips finding that sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Have I mentioned how sexy you look in red?” He murmurs.
You tilt your head to give him better access, sighing with pleasure. “Mmm, I think you better show me some more.”
Charles grins against your skin. “With pleasure.”
Scooping you up, he deposits you back on the bed and proceeds to worship every inch of the tantalizing red lingerie with hands, lips, and devoted words.
By the time he finally peels it off you, the teddy is a tattered scrap. But the awed look in his eyes makes it clear the effect is unforgettable.
Laying wrapped in each other’s arms afterward, you kiss the tip of his nose playfully. “So I take it you liked your surprise?”
“Liked it?” He shakes his head in wonder. “I absolutely loved it. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
You snuggle into his chest, satisfied. “Well in that case, expect to see more Ferrari red in my collection in the future.”
His eyes light up. “You’re going to be the death of me. But what a way to go.”
You’ll have to add some rosso corsa to your closet. Not that you mind.
A small price to pay to see that look in his eyes, like you’re the answer to his wildest fantasies come true.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc#cl16#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x y/n#scuderia ferrari#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble
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lens of ice | yjh | one
pairing: jeonghan x f!reader
genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part
word count: 12k
summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory.
warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body
a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓
part one | part two (final)
The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.
Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.
"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"
Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice.
Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.
"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"
The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.
"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists"
"When can I have the surgery?"
You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.
"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"
Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.
"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"
That was enough to get your attention.
"Why?"
Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.
The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.
"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"
It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.
"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"
Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.
"Well, good luck to you"
"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"
You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.
"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"
"Nothing will change"
A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.
"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"
Jihoon simply shook his head at you.
"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"
With a salute Jihoon left.
"Fuck"
You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock.
"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.
Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.
"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"
Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.
"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"
Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.
"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"
Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.
"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.
A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium.
And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan?
"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed"
Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.
"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"
Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him.
"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.
With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you.
"Will you need to film my family?"
"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life"
Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.
"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"
You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so.
Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.
Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second.
In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.
And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.
“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.
“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.
“Fine”
“Just fine?”
You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.
“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”
Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.
Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.
Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.
“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.
You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.
“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.
You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.
“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”
“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”
Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.
“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.
You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.
“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”
The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.
You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.
You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.
The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.
And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.
Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.
"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.
You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.
You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.
"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"
Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.
Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.
Option b was actually the only possible choice.
“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”
Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.
“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”
You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.
“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.
“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”
You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.
He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.
You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.
“What if I say something and regret it later?”
It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.
“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.
“Can we throw it all away and start again?”
Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.
“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"
Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.
“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”
With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.
Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.
“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”
“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”
He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.
“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”
“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”
He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.
“No, the ultimate goal is to win”
As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.
You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.
“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”
“Hi”
The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.
His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.
“Can we film it?” You asked.
Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.
Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.
For Jeonghan, that was never the case.
Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.
Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.
As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.
“You said you would film anything and everything.”
You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.
In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.
“Do you think it’s important?”
You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.
“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”
“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it
You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.
Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary.
You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either.
While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten.
It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that.
However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?
You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him.
It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain.
Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes.
"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?" someone asked.
You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you.
"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed.
"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?"
"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?"
"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?"
The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.
Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him.
You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head.
“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried
“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad.
That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you.
“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse.
“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”
By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot.
The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake.
As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.
The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.
Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.
Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.
What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.
You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.
In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.
You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.
Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.
You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.
It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.
"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”
You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.
Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?
There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.
It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.
That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?
Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.
Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling.
It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua.
It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments.
His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little.
“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.
Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels.
“I think she will,” Jeonghan said.
Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit.
“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”
Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough.
“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”
“Am I not a real person?”
The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.
“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”
Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment
“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”
Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.
“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”
Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.
“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”
After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.
Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours.
The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much.
It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics.
And he only had one change left.
So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted.
He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to.
“Are you nervous?” you asked him.
Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because.
However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring.
He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.
“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”
You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.
“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”
He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore.
Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.
“Do you think I can still do it?”
There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see.
Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment.
“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”
You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way.
Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.
"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan.
He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it.
Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.
"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.
Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile.
"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"
Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin.
"Come on, humor me"
You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.
"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”
Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.
Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.
Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.
It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.
“Where did you see those pictures?”
“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”
One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.
He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.
“I thought we were getting to know each other”.
Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.
There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.
And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.
Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.
“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.
You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.
“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”
Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.
“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”
You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.
In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.
The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.
For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.
You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.
It was become just you and your job.
Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.
“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”
You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.
He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?
Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.
He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.
Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.
He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.
Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.
“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.
He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.
"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.
Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.
Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.
"I realized I don't know anything about you"
You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.
"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"
He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.
"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"
You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.
At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.
"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.
"Whatever you want to share"
The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.
"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"
You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"
For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.
You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."
You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.
Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.
"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"
You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.
"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"
You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed.
Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.
So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.
Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.
"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.
Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.
Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.
"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"
Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.
"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"
The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.
You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.
"You have to rest"
You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.
“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”
Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.
Finally, you were alone.
“You have to rest,” you said again.
You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.
“I need to get it right”
"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"
A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.
"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”
You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else.
“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”
Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours.
“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”
You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around.
So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land.
Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him.
“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”
Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing.
“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.
You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.
Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.
But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.
“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.
You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.
“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”
You saw it and shook your head again.
“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.
As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.
Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.
“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”
“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”
You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.
From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.
With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.
He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.
“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”
Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.
With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,
“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.
Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.
“I won’t let you fall”
The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you.
You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.
When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink.
“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”
Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course.
His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.
“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”
The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.
“I think we should stop here”
You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.
You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.
"I thought that…"
“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.
You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.
But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.
Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.
"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”
You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.
“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”
Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.
You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.
“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”
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Good Morning
Story: You have just spent your first night together and the obvious nervousness comes in with a bang. Will he like me without makeup? I need to keep mints close to me to hide my morning dragon breath. Should I put on some mascara at least?
Characters: Diluc, Alhaitham
TW: Beware! Fluff.
Diluc
You have promised yourself that you will wake up before him. And somehow you did. When you opened your eyes, the sun was still pretty low and the room was filled with Diluc´s deep calm breathing. Slowly raising your head you checked his chest. You have been sleeping on him the whole night so the possibility of you salivating on him was pretty high.
It is fine. Thank god. You sigh with relief.
For a second you got stuck because you could not stop staring at him. He looks so peaceful, but authoritative at the same time. Diluc has this aura of confidence and stoicism that you have never seen in other men. He could have every woman in the Teyvat but he chose you. Your heart flutters.
I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I will do everything to prove to you that I am worthy of you.
With that, you stood up and tip-toed out of the bedroom.
"Are you trying to run away from me?"
Diluc´s voice stopped you right when you were about to reach the doorknob. Heart in your chest started racing and all you could hear was your blood rushing through your veins.
"If I disappointed you somehow last night, you can tell me straight away."
"No!" You almost screamed too ashamed to look at him.
"Then where are you going? I was excited to wake up to you sleeping in my arms."
"Me too! I just need to… Use the toilet. If that is ok."
"Of Course, it is ok." Diluc chuckled with relief as he stood up. "I will show you the way."
"No! Umm… I will find it by myself."
"Y/N, what is going on?" He frowned. "Why you did not look at me once."
You wanted to protest even more, but before you were able to find new excuses, Diluc took your chin and raised your head so he could look you directly in the eyes.
After a short moment, you cracked under his gaze, just like last night.
"I did not want you to see me like this." You finally admit.
"Like what?" Diluc looked at you and scanned you from head to toe.
"No makeup, messy hair, puffy face…"
"Stop it, please." Diluc hushed you with a voice filled with amusement and disappointment at the same time.
"I am sorry." You whisper.
"For what? That I did not show you my affection the same way I feel it here?" He took your hand and placed it on the bare skin of his chest. "Can you forgive me for leaving room for so many doubts? My dear, I have traveled most of our world and I have never met someone like you. Do not ever doubt my affection for you. For any version of you. With messy hair, with whatever makeup you do not wear. I do not care. "
"But…"
You tried to protest, but he immediately stopped you with raised brows that said more than enough.
"With that settled, how did you sleep?" Diluc smiled as he hid you in his embrace.
Alhaitham
Last night was everything but what you have expected from a man who presented himself the way he did. Where did those passionate touches and kisses come from?
Never even in your wildest dreams, you dreamed about being smothered with so much affection. Even though you did not want to admit it, you felt addicted. Men are usually a source of disappointment in your life. How could you score an intelligent gentleman with ways that can make your toes curl from… Well, let's call it happiness.
It would be such a shame to scare him away with my morning state. I should freshen up a little.
You debated with yourself a little before you took your chance. As you carefully moved away his hand wrapped around your waist and tried to stand up, Alhaitham deeply growled. His grip around your body tightened. Who would have thought that he would be into spooning so much?
"What is so funny?" He asked after you chuckled a little.
"Just wondering if I could be the big spoon now."
"No." Alhaitham murmured into your neck without hesitation.
"Can I at least go to the bathroom? Pretty please?"
"So you would let me here with nothing but your scent stuck to my skin?"
"Awwwww." You smiled. "But... Do you want me to pee here?"
"You are free to go wherever you want!" Alhaitham said while dramatically pushing you away from him.
After you gave him your best fake sad stare you quickly left to deal with some important business in the bathroom. When you finally came back, Alhaitham was already sitting in the bed leaning against the headboard reading something.
"And I thought that I had bad bed hair." You laugh.
"You probably had. You have been gone for almost half an hour."
"You did not!" You audibly gasped before you jumped at him.
"Why… Oh god…" Alhaitham growled as he maneuvered you down from him. "...do you have so much energy this early in the morning? If I knew I would never invite you over."
"REALLY?!" You froze.
"Of Course not." He smiled sheepishly as he pinned you down to kiss you oh so sweetly.
#genshin#impact#genshin impact#fanfic#fanfiction#genshin x reader#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc x reader#alhaitham#alhaitham x reader
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𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫
jackson rippner x f!reader
Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.
warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans
word count: 2780
author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3
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You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.
Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.
Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.
“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.
A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”
You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”
“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.
“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.
You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”
“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”
“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”
Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”
“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.
You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”
“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.
“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.
“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”
“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.
Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”
“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.
“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”
“Which is?”
“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.
“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”
“Ah, but I was close.”
“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.
“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.
While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.
“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.
“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.
“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”
“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”
The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones.
“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.
You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”
“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”
“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.
Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.
“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”
“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”
“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.
“Really.”
“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.
“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”
The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.
“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes.
“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”
“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.
“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”
“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”
“Hopefully,” you chuckle.
You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.
“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.
A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”
“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”
“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.
“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”
“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.
You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat.
“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.
“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.
Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”
“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”
“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.
“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats.
“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.
You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn.
Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.
“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.
“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.
“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.
“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.
You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud.
“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”
Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.
“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.
You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.
“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.
“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.
Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.
“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”
You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.
“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.
“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”
“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”
You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”
“Beg.”
You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”
“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.
“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.
“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”
You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock.
“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.
He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy.
“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other.
Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”
You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.
Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud.
“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”
“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”
“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”
Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.
“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.
“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.
Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.
“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.
“Nope. You?’
“Nope. Want to?”
“Absolutely.”
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#jackson rippner#jackson rippner x reader#jackson rippner x reader smut#jackson rippner smut#jackson rippner x you#jackson rippner x y/n#jackson rippner x you smut#jackson rippner x y/n smut#cillian murphy#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy x reader smut#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy x you#cillian murphy x y/n#cillian murphy x you smut#cillian murhy x y/n smut#jackson rippner imagine#cillian murphy imagine#floralcyanide writes#red eye#red eye (2005)
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𝙋𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
Rhea Ripley x Dominik Mysterio x Fem!Reader
Summary: You lose your NXT Women’s title, and Rhea and Dom are here to pick up the pieces.
Warnings: Cursing, typical wrestling violence, anger, etc.
Word Count: 3,138
A/N: We all saw what happened on Raw, so I just wrote this as a lil comfort fic for myself. Hope you enjoy!
You shut your eyes as you held your side, trying to block out the sound of Becky Lynch’s music playing in the air, trying to ignore her standing over you, a smirk on her face as she held your title. That was yours! You were so close to winning, so close to putting Becky away and making her eat her words that she’d been spewing for the past few weeks, make her regret her stupidity by making this match an Extreme Rules match.
Just a couple minutes ago, both of you were fighting, and you wee bruised and beaten, blood gushing from your face. Becky wasn’t doing much better, her arm bleeding and her elbow was fractured early through the match when you hit it with a crowbar. You were fighting in the crowd, beating the absolute hell put of each other with kendo sticks and anything you can get your hands on.
You tried to fling the kendo stick at her again, but she dodged it, and it clattered onto the floor. Your eyes widened at the angry look she was giving you; like this was the beginning of the end and you knew if you wanted any chance at winning you needed to stay away from her direct line of fire.
You bolted down the stairs, taunting her to follow you and she gave into the bait, hurrying right behind you as the crowd got louder with anticipation, wanting her to beat your ass.
You rolled into the ring, maneuvering over the chairs sprawled out but you didn’t get very far because she punched you from behind, taking you down with hit after hit after hit, her anger consuming her as she beat you into the canvas. You laid there limp, your mind hazy until she got you to your feet, trying to set you up for the manhandle slam.
You panicked, pushing her away and kicking at her elbow to make some room between the two of you. She fell to the floor, yelling out in pain. You spotted your title next to you, still in the ring from when you tried to hit her with it before. You saw Becky starting to get up, and you knew it was now or never.
You slammed the title against her face the minute she stood up, following that up with a ddt on the chairs. She was knocked out, and you smirked as you went on top of her for the cover, ready to finally prove to her that you were the better women.
“1... 2... 3-” The ref was about to slam the mat for the three count when you felt yourself getting dragged out the ring. Your groaned when your body hit the floor hard, but anger overtook the pain. You had her beat!! Who the fuck did that?!
You got your answer when you looked up and saw no one other than Tiffany Stratton standing over you, a smirk on her face as she stared you down. “That is supposed to be my title!” She screamed at you, her high pitched voice grating on your ears. “It was supposed to be Me vs you! But you chose Becky, and now you’re gonna pay bitch.”
You stood up, making your way to her with the nastiest glare she’d ever seen on your face. “Don’t blame me because your an untalented blonde bitch who can’t wrestle to save her life!” Tiffany took a step back but it was too late, you punched the taste out of her mouth. She fell to the floor, clutching her cheek as she tried to get away from you. Clearly she didn’t think this through.
“Now you’re gonna pay, bitch!” You yelled at her, enjoying the look of fear on her face as you stalked her. She bolted for the ring, and you chased after her.
You were right on her heels, running into the ring determined to beat her plastic face in when you ran right into a steel chair striking you square in the face, sending a jolt of pain surging through your skull.
Your vision blurred for a moment as you stumbled backward, clutching your throbbing cheek. Becky had a wicked smirk on her face as you collapsed to the floor, the taste of blood lingering in your mouth. You had no strength left to defend yourself as she hit you on the head, in the ribs, anywhere she could get the chair on you, over and over again. Eventually she lifted you up, hitting the manhandle slam on you onto of the steel chairs.
You groaned when your back made contact with the chairs, barely able to see through the haze of pain as Becky covered you for the three-count, the cheers and boos of the crowd sounding like a distant echo. The referee's hand slapped the mat, and your heart dropped when you heard the bell ring.
You lost. Everything you've worked so hard for, everything you've wanted for so long, slipped through your hands in three seconds.
Three. Fucking. Seconds. The number repeated in your head over and over again as you left the ring, storming backstage. It's where Dominik found you, pushing past wrestlers and crew members yelling at the ones who gave you pitying looks. "What are you looking at?" You screamed at a screen tech, who froze in fear as you pushed past him.
"Baby!" He yelled, trying to get your attention. You heard him but you didn't turn to him, you couldn't bear to look at him and the look of disappointment and anger he would be wearing on his face. Why wouldn't he be disappointed in you? You just lost in the fucking main event to one of your biggest enemies, and now your title is in her dirty little hands. He was probably disgusted with you right now. And Rhea. God, Rhea was probably repulsed by you right now. You ignored him calling you and quickly made your way to the Judgment Day locker room.
Your fists clenched, and you threw anything within reach—chairs, bags, water bottles—across the room, all while cursing loudly. The sound of your frustration reverberated off the walls, and the locker room atmosphere grew tense. "Fuck!" you shouted, sending a chair flying across the locker room. "This should have been mine! I had her!"
"Mi vida, it's okay! You did your best," Dom finally found you and walked in, trying to console you, his voice gentle, but you whirled around, your eyes blazing with anger. "Okay?! Did you see what just happened out there? I lost! I let everyone down!" Your voice trembled with frustration and regret.
"You didn't let anyone down, mi amor! Especially not me!-"
"Stop lying Dom!" You spat at him, throwing another bag at the wall. "I fucked up, now you and Rhea can go leave me now that I don't have a title. So stop acting like you care!"
Dominik walked closer to you, eyebrows furrowed at your words. "I'm not fucking lying! I don't know who the hell told you this shit, but Rhea and I would never leave you, title or no title." He grabbed your hand before you could throw another bag, ignoring your glare and wrapping his arms around you. "Let go, Dominik!"
"You need to calm down, mi corazon!"
"You should listen to him." The two of you stopped arguing and looked in the direction of the voice. JD Mcdonagh was standing in front of the door, giving the both of you a wry smile.
"Excuse me?!" You asked him with a scowl. Who gave him the audacity to interrupt a clearly private moment between you and Dom?? Dominik tightened his arm around you, giving you a warning glance that you ignored. JD was either oblivious to your attitude to chose to ignore it, acting like he heard nothing from you.
"What do you want JD? We're busy here." Dominik asked with an exasperated sigh.
"I saw what happened out there love."
"So did thousands of fans here and at home. What's. Your. Point." You questioned him, your piercing stare making JD falter for a second before he continued again, and Dominik prayed he didn't say anything stupid. JD already had Priest almost beat him up, he didn't wanna add you to the list.
“I just wanted to tell you have nothing to be ashamed of, honestly." He walked closer to you, a sympathetic look on his face. "And that it's okay, everyone loses sometimes. Some more than others, but not everyone is good enough to win all the time," he said, and Dom facepalmed internally. He might've been Finn's friend, but god was he dumb as shit. Dominik knew this wouldn't end well.
You went silent for a moment, narrowing your eyes at him and removing yourself from Dominik so he didn't get hurt before you hurled a table across the room and advanced on JD, shoving him against the wall.
J.D. tried to stutter out an apology, but your angry glare cut him off. "Mind your own business!" you spat, your voice dripping with venom. "Stop getting in my business! Stop acting like you're a part of Judgment Day! You never will be, you short piece of—"
“Baby, calm down!” Dom stopped you, trying to hold you back before you killed JD. "Calm down, amor.” Dom urged, his voice soft but firm.
You glared at JD for a moment longer before finally letting him go and taking a deep breath, your anger wavering and the sadness you had been trying to ignore consuming your mind. Dom noticed the change in your demeanor and gently put his hand on your face, his fingers grazing your cheek. You looked up at him, and for a moment, all the anger and frustration melted away as you met Dominik's caring gaze. He wiped away a tear that had escaped your eye and whispered, "It's gonna be okay, mi vida. We're here for you, no matter what."
But you turned away, unable to accept his comfort just yet. You didn't deserve it. "I don't want to hear it, Dom," you muttered, your voice choked with disappointment. "I lost. That's all there is to it."
Dominik sighed, his heart aching for you. He knew you were taking this loss hard, and there was nothing he could say to make it better. But he couldn't stand seeing you like this. "I'm proud of you, you know," he said softly, his hand gently turning your face back toward him.
You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over again. "Don't, Dom. Please."
He gave you a disappointed sigh, but he didn't push you any further. "Come on, I'll wait out here, you grab your stuff and we'll go," he said, wanting to do nothing more than wrap you in his arms and take all your sadness away from you. You nodded, and he made his way out of the room while you got your stuff. He quickly pulled out his phone, texting Rhea, who was back at the hotel.
Rhea<3
Were gonna be at the hotel soon, mami.
How bad is it, baby? I saw it on the TV. She didn't look okay.
It's bad. She's not doing too good.
Physically or mentally?
Both, but mostly mentally. I've never seen here like this. She's about to come out the locker room, see you later mami.
I'm gonna kill both of those stupid pricks for hurting her. Drive safe, baby <3
You slid out the room, your bag in hand and a look Dominik couldn't read on your face. "You ready?" He asked, grabbing your bag from you. You nodded, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the room.
The drive was mostly silent, with you staring out the window, lost in your thoughts, and Dom stealing worried glances at you.
When you finally arrived at the hotel, you both entered the elevator in silence. You felt Dominiks stare burning a whole through your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. You felt like you had let everyone down, especially Rhea. She had been your biggest supporter, and now you had lost the title she had helped you fight for.
The elevator doors opened, and you both made your way to your room. You hesitated for a moment in front of the door, not sure how to face Rhea. But Dom encouraged you to go in first, his hand on the small of your back leading you into the room. As you entered the hotel room, you were met with the sight of Rhea sitting on the couch, her eyes filled with worry. "Baby, are you okay?" Rhea rushed up to you, concern etched on her face. She reached out to check on your injuries, but you pulled away, unable to meet her eyes.
"Leave me alone, Rhea," you muttered, heading toward the bedroom, trying to avoid her touch and gaze. You were sure she was disappointed in you, and it hurt too much to face it.
Rhea followed you, eyes never leaving you as you avoided her gaze, "I know you're probably hating me right now," you muttered, your voice trembling. "You and Dom must be so disappointed. Just break up with me already; I know you want to."
Rhea's face fell, and she motioned for you to sit next to her. You hesitated but eventually sat down when she gave you the look that meant she wasn't playing around. She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her arms around you tightly. She examined the bruises on your face, her fingers gently tracing the marks. "That's not true," she whispered, her voice filled with a softness that few people heard her speak with. "I could never hate you, and we could never leave you, not for something like this. I love you, and I always will."
"I lost, Rhea. I lost the title," you mumbled against her skin, feeling defeated.
Rhea tilted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes. "And you'll win it back. I'm not mad at you, love. You did your best. It took two of those bitches to put you down." She stroked your cheek, her anger rising looking at the bruises on your beautiful skin. " I'm angry at Becky and Tiffany, and I promise you, I'll deal with them. But I couldn't never be mad at you, baby."
"But I-"
"No buts." Rhea cut you off, giving you a serious look and tightened her grip around you. "It's not your fucking fault, you hear me?" You nodded, but she shook her head at your action. "I need to hear words, love."
"It's...not my fault." Rhea knew you were still hurting and trying your best, so she didn't push you for more. She gave you a kiss on the cheek and glanced over at Dominik. The two shared a look, communicating without a word. Dominik quickly got up to your side and helped you up. "C'mon hermosa, you'll feel better with a bath. You wanna walk or you want me to carry you?" You didn't say anything, just walked into his arms, making the both of them chuckle as Dominik carried you to the bathroom, his strong arms making you feel safe.
He filled the tub with warm water and returned to help you undress, gently tending to your wounds and bruises. The warm water eased the pain, and you let out a sigh of relief as you sat down. As you soaked in the warm water, Dominik joined you, sitting behind you and gently massaging your shoulders to help ease the tension in your body.
Dominik carried you to the bed afterward, making sure you were comfortable. Rhea joined you on the bed, her fingers expertly massaging your tense muscles. You closed your eyes, feeling the tension slowly melt away under her touch.
"Go to sleep love. We'll be here when you wake up." Rhea whispered to you, stroking your back. You hummed back as answer, and Dominik smiled at your tired state and kissed your forehead. You smiled at the gesture and relaxed into Rhea's arms as you slowly went to sleep.
Rhea gently brought you into the covers, trying to not wake you as she tucked you into the bed. She made sure you were completely asleep before turning to Dominik, her voice changing from sweet to threatening. "I am going to kill Priest."
"Mami..."
"Don't mami me. Your injured. Finn's injured. He was supposed to be there for her. I told him to have her back, and he failed." Rhea hissed out, standing up and clenching her fists. She gave him one job, and he couldn't even do it. Didn't even show up. How pathetic.
Dom was quick to sit Rhea back down, trying to calm her anger down. "I know you're mad mami, I'm pissed off too. He left her hanging."
Dom held his hands out, and Rhea immediately slipped her hands in his slightly larger ones. He brought them to his lips and kissed them, relishing in the small smile Rhea gave him. "I know you want to deal with him, but please, for her sake... wait until Raw."
Rhea sighed, looking away and biting her lip in thought. Dom grabbed her face, gently turning her back to him, meeting her eyes.
She gave him a resigned look and nodded at him. "Fine. You're right, Dom Dom. I don't want to overwhelm her." She turned to you, staring at you sleeping peacefully, looking like every bit of the angel that you are. "But Monday, I'm putting him in his place, and you can't stop me. Got that?" Dom nodded, knowing he couldn't fight her on this even if he tried. Once she wanted to do something, she'd do it no matter what.
"You can deal with him, but you need to get some sleep first, mami." She nodded at him, getting up and going to the bathroom to change into her pajamas. She came back to the sight of Dominik already in his pajamas, sleeping soundly and cuddling into you. She smiled at the both of you before slipping into the bed as well onto your other side. She laughed when you immediately pulled her into you, Dominik stretching out his long legs and throwing it around both of your waists. She cuddled up to you as well, stroking your cheek as she watched the rise and fall of your chest.
Her anger rose as she looked over your bruises and your face swelling at all the hits you took. She forced herself to calm down for you and Dom, grounding herself by caressing your skin. She'd let sleep overtake her later, but as she looked at you, she promised herself one thing.
Everyone who hurt you was gonna pay.
#wwe fanfiction#wwe x reader#nxt#nxt x reader#wwe fic#wwe imagine#rhea ripley#wwe#fanfic#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley imagine#dominik mysterio x reader#dominik mysterio fanfiction#wwe x black reader#wwe imagines#wwe x you#nxt x you#wwe x fem reader#wwe x fem black reader#the judgment day x reader#the judgement day#wrestling fic#wrestling fanfic#wwe fanfic
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hi!! before i go i jus wanna say, I love your work 🙏🏽 and I finally watch hamilton last night so I might write for it as well 😋😋 but i have a drabble idea.
anyways— thomas having a dance/ball for a campaign during the election and he meets aaron’s little sister, mc, who snuck in. and he can’t help but take interests in her.
“Now, what’s a lady like you doin’ getting a drink just for yourself? Nobody’s offered to do that for you yet?”
Y/N froze as her fingers met the stem of the champagne flute. She had promised herself she would stay to the outskirts of the ball, and her only goal for the night had been to avoid courting attention. However, the packed room was warm, and it was only more so at its perimeter under the lights, and the crisp bubbly had looked oh-so-inviting.
She turned with a polite smile as she picked up the glass, but her eyes widened when she saw the man behind her with his gleaming smile and his velvet suit. She recognized him instantly; after all, she’d seen him before, and he’d even been in her home, but they’d never formally met. He raised an eyebrow when her smile faltered. “I’ve only just arrived. I haven’t had a chance to speak to much of anyone just yet.”
“Then I’m gonna have to count myself lucky to have found you when I did. Thomas Jefferson.” He offered her a hand as he introduced himself, and when she took it, he dipped down to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her eyes went even wider.
She cleared her throat as he drew himself back up to his full height, still holding her by the fingertips, and it took a moment for it to occur to her to withdraw her hand. “You’re the host of this ball, then, if I’m not mistaken. Thank you for opening your home to us like this.”
“Believe me, sugar, the pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Who’re you here with? Feel like I’ve seen you around, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Oh, um, my family’s here somewhere. I came on my own, though, and I was planning to meet them here.”
“Your family?” He pursed his lips. “You’re not a Schuyler, are you?”
“No, no, certainly not,” she replied before hastily adding, “although the Schuylers are lovely people, of course. To be a part of their family would make one lucky.”
“So you know the Schuylers, then?” he mused, and she nodded. His growing smile was making her mouth go dry. “I know where I recognize you from; you’re a Burr, aren’t you? Aaron’s sister?”
“I am, yes.” Her smile was tense, laced with unease. His grin was bright as he plucked a drink for himself off of the table behind them.
“So why haven’t I seen you at one of these before? Your family trying to keep you locked away from all the politics?” he asked, and as her eyebrows fell, he could see the look in her eyes sour.
“They’ve decided I can’t be trusted at this kind of event,” she said bitterly, and he quirked a brow. “Aaron claims he’s afraid I’ll say the wrong thing and jeopardize his career, but really, I think he just can’t deal with the idea of splitting people’s attention between us.”
“But you finally proved yourself trustworthy?” he asked mildly, taking a sip of his drink, and she shrugged uncomfortably.
“I suppose so.”
“Then where’s your dear brother now, hm? Why aren’t you here with the rest of your family?” He watched her expectantly, and when she didn’t answer right away, his grin broadened. “They don’t even know you’re here, do they?”
“No, and you’re not going to be the one to tell them,” she said sharply, pointing her champagne flute at him. He raised his eyebrows, amused by the fervor in her tone. “I had to walk miles alone in the dark to get here; I am not being thrown out as soon as I arrive.”
“Well, sweetheart, if you’re not with them, then really, I should be sendin’ you on your way.” Despite the threat, his voice was breezy, and she frowned.
“And what do you have to gain from kicking me out?”
“The respect and appreciation of your family,” he suggested blithely. “The knowledge that I’m not leavin’ a young lady to walk home alone ‘n vulnerable at the end of the night. ‘S just the right thing to do, really.”
She eyed his small smile for a moment before slowly asking, “But despite that, you’d rather I stay, wouldn’t you?” He shrugged unabashedly. “You’re quite shameless, aren’t you, Mr. Jefferson?”
“Only on a good day.” He winked as he took a sip of his drink. “After all, you went through all that effort to get here. There’s gotta be a good reason for it, huh?”
“Of course. I’m here to expand my mind just like everyone else," she said, and he raised an eyebrow.
“And not for the charming future president we’ve got roaming the ball?”
“Oh, I wasn’t aware there was one. Let me know if you see him?”
His full laugh proved him undeterred, and Y/N’s self-satisfied smile was reluctant. "'M glad to see you inherited more of the family wit than your brother seemed to."
"Please, don't tell him that. A lady needs to keep some things a secret."
"It'll stay between us, then," Thomas said, "but I don't think I ever got your name."
"Why, so you know whose presence to report to my brother?"
"So I know who to ask after the next time I see him." His response was quick, and it had Y/N on her heels. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, but when she opened her mouth to answer—
"Y/N." Both she and Thomas turned on their heels at the loud voice to find her brother striding across the room toward them, and her groan was unchecked. The fury in Aaron's voice was barely contained. "What in the world do you think you're possibly doing here, sneaking out after dark? How did you even get here?"
"I brought myself, since nobody else was willing to take me," she bit back, and Thomas raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his drink.
"That wasn't your decision to make," Aaron snapped. "We are a family, and you have to respect that—"
"Respect what? That you have total control over my life in the name of family values? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" she asked. "I respect that you have a career and a reputation to maintain, but I am a person, and—"
"And nothing, Y/N. Put the drink down, and leave Mr. Jefferson at peace," he demanded, and Y/N narrowed her eyes, her jaw set. Aaron turned to Thomas, and much of the fire in his voice had subsided when he said, "I'm sorry for her intrusion, Thomas. We didn't know she had followed us here, and we'll send her home at once."
"Now, Aaron, what makes you think she's uninvited company?" Thomas asked, and both Y/N's and Aaron's brows were raised. "Y/N's my guest here this evening; 's the opposite of an intrusion."
He frowned, glancing between Thomas and Y/N. "You mean you're responsible for her presence here tonight?"
"Well, I invited her, so I suppose you could say that," he said casually, and if he winked when he caught Y/N's eye, Aaron didn't think anything of it. Aaron's lips were pursed and his shoulders tense as he glanced between them.
"Why didn't you tell me Thomas had invited you?" he asked Y/N, and she shrugged.
"I didn't think you'd want to hear it, and I didn't want you trying to prevent me from coming."
"If I'd known he asked you to come—"
"So, what, my personhood is dependent on his permission now?"
"Your presence here is, at least."
"As a Burr, I would've been welcome either way."
"Not unattended, however."
"I can attend to myself just fine."
"You know that isn't what I mean when—"
"Aaron, was there somethin' else you needed?" Thomas cut him off, and Aaron's gaze was affronted when it snapped to him. However, he held his tongue. "I was just about to ask Y/N to dance, assuming that's her decision to make 'n all."
Y/N had to bite back her smile at his words, and although Aaron seemed to recognize the challenge in them as his jaw ticked, he said, "Of course. I'm sorry to have interrupted."
"Don't sweat it. Your concern for your sister is awful sweet, even if it isn't needed here," Thomas responded, his smile warm.
"'Concern' isn't how I'd describe it," Y/N muttered bitterly, and Thomas nudged her with his elbow. She frowned.
"Carry on 'n enjoy the rest of the ball, though, and please send my best to your wife," he said. Aaron could only offer a tense smile in response.
“You as well. I suppose I should go find Theodosia.” He looked down skeptically at Y/N. “How are you planning to get home?”
Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I…” She hadn’t thought that far, so her gaze was hopeful when it snapped to Thomas, who held her with a hand at the small of her back.
“I’ll arrange for a carriage to take her home,” he promised. “Don’t you worry, Burr. She’s in safe hands.”
“Right,” he said hesitantly, looking Thomas over. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t do anything stupid, Jefferson.”
“‘S like you don’t even know who you’re talkin’ to,” Thomas said incredulously, and Aaron scoffed.
“I’m sure.” He barely spared them both another glance before departing unceremoniously, shaking his head all the while, and Thomas chuckled. Y/N turned back toward him.
“You’re a regular local hero,” she said sardonically, but the smile in her eyes betrayed her bored tone. Thomas grinned.
“I do try, sweetheart,” he said lightly, “maybe even in a way that deserves a ‘thank you’?”
“Thank you.” Her voice was sincere. “Really. I owe you.”
“Well, if you mean that,” he said, and his eyes were shining as he looked down at her, “I wouldn’t mind making good on that dance I mentioned. Unless you’re in a real rush to get back to your dear old brother.”
He offered her his arm with an eyebrow raised, and she left her empty glass on the table behind them when she took it, drawing a wide grin from him. “How could I say no to our charming host?"
#send me asks!#hamilton x reader#freedom of the press#hamilton fic#hamilton#thomas jefferson#lafayette x reader#lafayette#daveed diggs imagine#daveed diggs fanfic#daveed diggs x reader#daveed fic#hamilton fanfic#alexander hamilton#hamilton one shot#hamilton musical#hamilton the musical#aaron burr#thomas jefferson fic#thomas jefferson x reader#thomas jefferson x reader drabble#dorkfilmz
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Marriage (Pt. 2)
Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader
Warnings: past talk, anger
Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
The next day, after a restless night of reflection and regret, I decided that I needed to do something to make up for what I had done to Y/N years ago.
I couldn't just leave things the way they were.
I called Lando and asked if I could talk to him in person. He agreed and we met at a nearby café.
As soon as we sat down, I poured out my story and remorse to him, admitting all my faults and fears on that fateful day.
Lando listened in silence, with a serious look on his face.
"So that's why she reacted like that when you offered to pay,." he finally said. "My God, Max, how could you do such a thing? She's an amazing person and you had the chance to marry that woman and you ran out of the church like a scared puppy."
"I know, I screwed up and I really regret it, that's why I'm trying to get you to give me her number for me or I don't know maybe I’ll write a letter and you deliver it." He sighs. "Please, I'm begging you.”
"You know how much it must hurt her, right?" I shook my head, feeling the weight of guilt once again.
"I know, and I really want to make things right, Lando. If you can help me talk to her, I owe her a decent apology and an explanation of why I did what I did."Lando looked at me for a moment and then nodded.
"I'll talk to her, Max. But I can't guarantee that she'll want to see you again."
I thanked Lando and he promised to do his best to arrange a meeting between us.
While I was waiting, I started writing a letter to Y/N, expressing all my feelings and regrets honestly. I knew that a letter wouldn't solve everything, but I also didn't know if I'd be able to express all my feelings to her, I've never been good at expressing myself and I know that when it comes to talking to her I'll get in the way and won't be able to say everything.
A few days later, Lando called to tell me that Y/N had agreed to meet me at a local café. My heart was racing as I headed there.
When I walked in, I saw Y/N sitting at a table at the back.
She looked tense and nervous, but also determined. I sat down opposite her and took a deep breath.
"Lando said you wanted to talk to me so I'm hoping you'll say something instead of just staring at me like a idiot."
"I owe you a lot more than an apology and I also know that nothing I do or say will fix what I did, let alone ease the pain I caused you, but I'm not the same person anymore, I'm not the same stupid 21-year-old boy who left you at the altar." I took a breath and continued speaking. "I'd do everything differently if I could and I know you're probably thinking that it's too late to change the past and I know that but I can make it up to you in the future and prove to you that I'm a better person."
"I don't need you to prove anything to me."
"I know that, but I want you to know that the person who hurt you no longer exists." I took the letter out of my pocket and handed it to her. "The only thing that hasn't changed about me in all this time is the fact that I'm terrible at showing my feelings, but you already know that. I don't expect this to fix everything, Y/N, but it's a start."
She took the letter and laughed wryly as I got up to leave.
"Do you really think a letter can fix something, Max?"
"No, I don't think so, Y/N. But it's a start for me to express how sorry I am and how much you mean to me. I was wrong, I was afraid, but that doesn't justify what I did."
She took the letter and started to open it, but I put my hand over hers to stop her.
"I don't want you to read it now, I don't want you to read it in anger or out of obligation. I want you to go home and read it when you feel ready and not because I asked you to." I took my car key out of my pocket. "I'm really sorry and I hope you can forgive me someday."
I paid for our coffees and left with my heart a little lighter knowing that she had a part of my feelings in her hands.
Taglist: @ironmaiden1313 @dudenhaaa27 @christianpulisic10 @gaslysainz @fanboyluvr @urgirlceci @justdreamersdream @aundercover @newlifeforus @depressedriches @topguncultleader @123beautifulgirl123 @luvrrish
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The completed version of that sketch I teased a while ago! Angela and Demona have a much needed talk. uwu
So, I know I've been harkin' and hollerin' about starting a Gargoyles AU, and after this lil thing... WELL. I can't help myself man, plz ;w;
But even though I've yet to fully sit down to rewatch the show for concrete foundations, I'm gettin' bombarded with ideas for this badboy. I'll talk at length about my idea once I have something a little more solid, but for now the context is the AU explores Demona's journey to redemption, and her attempts to grow amidst the chaos of the general public now learning gargoyles exist (and the consequences that comes with it).
Below the "keep reading" is a short story I wrote on how Demona and Angela's first uninterrupted reunion could go. Angela is determined to try and convince her mother to give humanity--give everyone, really-- one more chance. Even with all the craziness and the very fragile relations between the supernatural and humans, Angela sees it as their best and only bet to actually build a long-lasting rapport. And a chance to have her mother in her life with minimal conflict.
--
"--Don't you understand? The humans took everything from me, and they have only grown worse. One so-called 'good' human can't undo that. They are never good."
"But they can be if you just let them!" Angela growls, flailing her talons out to her sides in a wide gesture around the city. "Mother, haven't you ever thought that maybe not all humans are bad? That they and gargoyle are more alike than you believe? You've been around for years. You can't honestly tell me you haven't met a gargoyle you couldn't trust in your lifetime."
"I trust no one," Demona sneers, turning her back on her daughter and hunching in on herself, arms crossed close to her chest. "It's what kept me alive this long."
"But at what cost? Mother... you are clanless." Demona doesn't turn around at the mournful tone, and Angela pushes on. "Y-you have no one. But you don't have to be--"
"Angela--" Demona's voice is loud, unwavering, but her tone is so, so tired. It's almost wrung out of her in a sigh that only hints at centuries of gliding solo.
"That is enough."
For several moments, there is heavy silence. Demona doesn't turn around, but the scent of salt in the air is tell enough. She heaves another sigh and begins to step toward the edge of the rooftop they've chosen for this meeting, fully intent on putting an end to such a miserable conversation.
"...Everyone believes you are nothing more than a monster." Demona keeps going, crouches down and begins to unfurl her wings.
"But I don't believe that."
That stops her. She freezes as if the sun has touched her skin, still as the stone sleep she no longer experiences. She still doesn't turn, but her head tilts to the side. Listening.
"I saw how desperately you want clan when you were with Thailog," Angela whispers hoarsely. "I saw how you looked at me, w-when you realized I was your daughter. You... you turned on Thailog to save me. Save us. But now I--" She whipes furiously at her eyes in frustration. "--you speak as if you want nothing to do with me--"
"You know that isn't true," Demona says, finally, finally whirling to face her daughter. Instinct drives her to open her arms, to reach out, but years of solitude stops her in her tracks. Her hesitation goes mostly unnoticed.
"Then prove it!" Angela barks. She lashes her tail and unfurls her wings. "I want you in my life! I want you to be clan. But I can't do that if you aren't willing to at least try." Angela closes the distance between them, grasping her mother's talons and --almost instantly-- feels like a child again. She gives her a gentle squeeze, and relief nearly floods her when she feels a small, hesitant one back.
"I can't ask for you to forget... or forgive. I won't. But I am asking you to... t-to at least try, and give me a chance? To give humans a chance, one more time."
Angela's eyes bore into her mother as she pleads: "Give me this one chance to prove you wrong."
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Hope ya'll enjoyed! Now that I reread the short there's a lot I'd like to revise and add, but for now this will work. :)
But ye! More to come soon! ;w;
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payback
You thought about it for a while, then, you flicked your hair behind your shoulders and smirked, much to his dismay. “I’ll take that risk, Jaemin. Anything to prove you wrong.”
pairing: jaemin x fem!reader
word count: 1.0k
genre: smut smut smut no plot minors dni
warnings: everything is consensual (always!) - hard dom!jaemin, overstimulation, manhandling, use of the word whore, somewhat dom (?) reader at the start but not really, people are tied up, oral (male + fem receiving), fingering, spitting in mouth :D do not read if it makes you uncomfy.
disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my imagination. I do not know the nct members and do not claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.
a/n: i know it's filthy. no need to report me i'm already putting myself in smut writer jail.
“Jaeminnn…” you sang, the words slurring and coming out twisted and mixed like you were inebriated. But you were as sharp as an ox. “Get down, baby.” Red painted nails, chipped at the ends, pushed his solid body down to the bed. He toppled, wobbling, his body surrendering to you. His brown eyes never left yours. The air was thick with tension, and as you shuffled forward to the edge of the bed, the top of your knee hit his hard on.
You moaned, wasting no time to scramble over him, grabbing his face to keep it near yours. Your hair tickled the sides of his cheeks, black strands blooming across his skin. He smelt like coffee and shampoo, like he always did. “Fuck, Jaemin. You’re driving me crazy.”
You were met with silence, his stare boring holes into your head. He was trying to intimidate you, and, if you were going to be honest, it was kind of working. Your heart fluttered, but you gulped, quickly swallowing any chance of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you tremble before him. Your hormones raging, you were on an uncontrollable high, so strong it made the room spin and the air prickle your skin like feathery kisses. You leant down, letting the softness of your lips drag across the tip of his nose and the skin of his mouth. He didn’t move.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
Soon you were pumping him up and down, a mixture of your spit and his precum dripping all over the front of his pants. Jaemin was frowning, the occasional gasp escaping him, as he tried so hard to resist you. He had promised you that he wouldn’t break under your touch, that only HE could make YOU feel that way. And you were desperate to prove him wrong.
When you gagged around his thick length, you almost missed his hands entangled in your hair, shoving you deeper and deeper, using you at an unforgivable pace like he always did. You heard him swear, and finally, after what seemed like ages and no time simultaneously, he came.
“Good job, baby.” To the sound of your raspy voice, he grunted, his face undecipherable still. “Still gonna keep you tied up for me. Gonna clean you up later.”
“Y/n.” He finally spoke, and you almost had a physiological reaction to the sound of his voice, your stomach suddenly dropping in anticipation. You knew that tone – it was a warning.
You thought about it for a while, then, you flicked your hair behind your shoulders and smirked, much to his dismay. “I’ll take that risk, Jaemin. Anything to prove you wrong.”
∞
You definitely should not have done that.
“Fuck, fuck, Jaemin, please, please…” Tears streamed down your face as you felt his long digits drag in and out of you at dizzying speeds. “I can’t…I can’t do it again. No, please…”
He raised his eyebrows at you. “You sure, gorgeous?”
He stopped, bringing his now soaked fingers to your lips. You whimpered, pulling your face away slightly. He tapped you gently on the side of your lips, and you looked into his eyes. You knew better than to disobey.
He always went all the way, not satisfied until he heard you struggling. “Good girl.” Fuck, that was your kryptonite, and he knew it.
Chuckling, he started kissing down your bare chest, making you arch off the bed, obscene sounds coming out of your mouth now. “Not so fiery now, are we? We surrendering to Jaemin now?”
“Nghhh…” he slipped his fingers out, and you gasped, engulfing air with each breath. “Please, Jaemin, I didn’t mean to make you-“
You didn’t get to finish, as he plunged straight back into you core, this time with his tongue. You screamed, trying to wriggle out of his iron grip on your thighs. “Oh my god, oh my god,” you cried. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I’ll never…fuck…no…” You starting crying again from the overstimulation, feeling your core reach climax again. “Fuck, I can’t cum again, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
He pulled away at the last second, much to your shock. You felt like passing out, body fluids everywhere, your body singed with lustful heat. “Jaemin-ah…” you sobbed, “Please…”
“Please what, my love? Don’t you think it’s fair, that I also get to tie you up and belittle you and make you cum? Hmm?”
“Jaemin, please. This is my fifth time in a row-“
“Shhh…” his fingers pressed against your lips. “You know what to say to make it all stop.”
You contemplated using the safe word, but you knew why you hadn’t used it yet.
He grabbed the sides of your face, making you yelp at the sudden rough handling. “Open up.”
“Jaemin-“
“I’m not hearing another word unless it’s THAT word. You understand? I’m tired of your crying and whining. Stupid whore. I know you wanted this all along, now, didn’t you?”
You opened wide for him, and he spat in your open mouth. “Be good for me and stay still for the next little bit.”
“Ah, Jaemin, please,” You knew what was going to happen now, his hard-on slapping against your bare stomach. “You’re too big and I’m too sensitive, fuck.”
He chuckled. “You’re so cute when you’re cock drunk, y/n.” He aligned himself with your entrance, and began his intrusion slowly but confidently, like he knew exactly where he was going.
“Jaeminnn…” your voice slurred like before, when you were teasing him for fun, but now it was just because he was right – you were truly drunk on him.
As your walls struggled and fluttered around his brutal girth, choked moans deflating you of any stamina or energy, the little ball of pleasure in the pit of you core bursting again with an agonising determination, you realised something - the one thing bringing you back to him every single time.
Na Jaemin was sadistically good at this game – this little payback game. And you didn’t mind losing every single time.
#na jaemin#jaemin#jaemin smut#nct#nct imagine#nct smut#dom nct#dom jaemin#nct fanfiction#nct fanfic#kpop#kpop imagine#kpop smut#nct dream#nct dream smut
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Can I request a fic Where Hyunjin comes back home to you from the Versace event thingy and he’s just really emotional because he thinks he didn’t do well w his English and outfit n stuff but then you comfort him and promise him that he did great and that you’re proud of him and it’s all cute and fluffy🥹
title -> pieces
genre -> hurt/comfort
pair -> hyunjin x gn!reader
a/n: hope this is what you wanted! thank you sm for the request<3
i knew his flight was delayed and that he wasn't getting here as early as we expected to. i got home from work and decided to make it as comfortable as it was just for him, just so he wouldn't have to worry about anything at all. i was so proud of my boyfriend for making it this big and having a chance to fly out and enjoy a fashion show. i knew his passion for clothes and creating them, it was really exciting that he got this opportunity. it was good publicity not only for the band, but for the fact that the person wearing these clothes was an incredible human being that deserved all the love & praise he was getting. they deserved to know that hwang hyunjin was a magnificent person, just as charming as when i first met him.
even if it was late and i had work in the morning, i decided to stay up and wait for him. i just didn't wanna welcome him home with my sleeping figure and the fact that we were probably not gonna see each other tomorrow morning, just made me want to stay up more.
the hours passed and it felt like an eternity but i remained strong as yawn after yawn escaped from me. that's when i heard the door to our apartment unlock and i turned off the tv. i got up and smiled as i saw him, he was wearing another outfit (clearly versace again) and he looked as breathtaking as one could be. it took me by surprise when i suddenly felt his arms wrap around me and give me the sweetest of hugs but i responded back fast as i hugged him. my hand going to his hair to rub him and the other one on his cheek to make him look at me.
i knew that expression way too well. he was feeling insecure, about what? i would have to ask. for now we stayed there hugging and looking at each other, mumbling "i love you" and not stopping. that's when i felt a tear drop fall from him and i decided to take him to the couch to sit us down and actually conversate about what was going.
"jinnie, talk to me when you're ready, okay?" i said and he nodded quickly as more tears were escaping his eyes. he grabbed my hands to trace patterns and distract himself but the sadness was clearly overwhelming. i've seen him distraught before, it was nothing new but it concerned me either way. what if he felt this way when he was at the event? in a foreign country? and i could not be there for him.
it made a feeling in my chest that stung but i held on as i wiped away his tears. i knew he could get emotional and he didn't mind showing his feelings at all but sometimes he wouldn't say what was happening and i was worried it would be one of those days until he finally spoke up.
"too much." he said as he choked back on his sobs and i looked at him again. "it was too much. i don't know how i got through it without making a scene."
"what do you mean baby?" i asked as i handed him a tissue to wipe the new tears that wouldn't stop. "you didn't feel comfortable in the event?".
"not at all." he said with a broken laugh as his eyes met mine again, reddish and with a deep kind of sadness buried in them. i was starting to realize what was going on, i knew my babe was an introvert, i knew how hard for him was to interact, to be out there, especially in those kinds of shows where you were so exposed. "i felt ridiculous, like i can't even speak english properly and even if they insisted for me to talk in korean, i wanted to prove myself and i failed."
hyunjin wasn't fluent in english, i knew that but he tried his damn hardest and this broke my heart. there was no one that put as much effort and love for the language than him and i wish he would see that but i would let him talk before i ramble too much.
"also the outfit, everyone had the fanciest stuff and i was just standing there. feeling so left out and stupid. god, why did they invite me if i was gonna be humiliated like this?" he exclaimed as i tried to put the pieces together. i didn't notice anyone being extra luxurious on the pictures that i've seen. just lots of people wearing the versace outfits they were offered, maybe he felt like it was too little but i think it was perfect. "i just feel like i'm never enough, i can never be myself and be enough for a place. it was so hard to interact with people (y/n), i don't know what i do wrong."
"nothing." i said clear as water and he looked at me confused. "you might feel like you're failing with your english, with the outfit or the scenery but you really aren't doing anything wrong jinnie".
"i just wished you were there with me." as much as i would love to agree with him, we couldn't be seen due to his contract. but yeah to be by his side and take care of him would be truly a blessing and if it helps him that's what matters.
"babe i know but for now you're probably gonna have to attend more of these. i think you looked beautiful, you always do and it's hard to not look at you when you walk in the room." i said as he blushed and i just smiled 'cause his shyness was just so adorable of him. "i truly mean that, the outfit wasn't extravagant but it fit you and you're not that. you create such a comfortable atmosphere and you have so much love to give that's hard not to fall for you".
"you're just saying that because you have to." he said as he looked down and intertwined his fingers with mine, comfortable touches from his hand to mine as i made him look at me again.
"i'm saying it because it's true." i said firmly and with an honest look in my eyes. "also your english might not be perfect but you can communicate well and people understand what you say baby. you have a really sweet way with words and everyone was mesmerized by it."
"do i?" he said and i could see in his eyes he was starting to believe me.
"you do! it's really beautiful how you talk." i said smiling as i thought about the many times he studied english and asked felix or chan for advice. "overall and for real, i am proud of you. proud of how far you've come and how much you're gonna show to the world. proud of the effort you put it in for a language that's not your own. proud of the representation you're giving. i am so happy that you get to do these things so people can see you and see the man i fell in love with."
he was again teary eyed but i was hoping it was happy ones instead of cruel & sad ones. i could feel another hug coming in as i held him. he whispered "thank you" so many times that his voice got hoarse from all the crying and the repeating. i just held him in my arms and kissed his forehead.
"you're the best significant other i could ask for." he said and i just smiled.
"that's you jinnie." i responded as i gave him a little peck. "let's go to bed yeah? it's been a long day for you."
#sourbinnie#skz drabbles#skz short imagines#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz hyunjin#skz angst#skz imagines#stray kids drabbles#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#hyunjin x reader#stray kids x you#skz hurt/comfort
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oh im gonna be SO annoying about bbh in a minute. i keep saying the same thing over and over again but his character is too fucking complex motherfucker is like:
"i'm a demon who is 11,000 years old and i refuse to acknowledge that im a demon nor that i do bad things (like steal furniture) but i will help people every chance i get despite saying im going to stop doing that and i am going to devote my life to protecting these fragile little eggs even though i know im going to lose them one day because i love them too much (and i know i can do that and it will one day be okay, because i have an immortal diamond to keep me company even if he isn't here now). when my friend throws himself beneath the spokewheel of the federation i will be there, bitter about my loss, but i will not start a revolution until he proves he deserves one. i will do what i can to safeguard his system against corruption because i am afraid the federation will use him to hurt us. i know he doesn't want to hurt us. he keeps hurting me. he is isolated by our distrust in him and he is still working hard to try to be a good person in an inherently corrupt system that cannot be fixed so i will build him a statue. i will not kill him when he takes a picture of me in the presidential chair (that was almost mine) and puts it on his wall and calls me 'employee of the month.' i didn't do all of that work for the federation i did it for him like i do it for others because they are my friends. i will exhaust every option i have to build a reason to NOT start a revolution. to not kill him. because i have to say that i tried. i feel like i have made so many compromises. i have held myself back to try to find reason. i will still remove his access to my base. when the island turns against me and he locks me in a cage for a crime i did not commit, i will remove everyone's access (except for my family the french and my family the eggs). i am having fun. when the eggs appear the next day with cracks and dirty shells i will worry, but i know they're strong. they'll be okay. (when i find my son's secret lab and his unethical experiments that cause him harm i will be proud because he has done what i do. he has helped. i want him to be safe but we are never safe and i trust him more than anyone else. i know now, and i can help him be safe.) when the eggs go missing i will be silent. i will look for them, and i will destroy for them, and i will bargain for them, and i will cry for them, and i will not accept their loss. when my friend who is president who once built a safehouse that saved my eggs' lives is finally damaged by the federation (like i knew he would be when he became president) and he starts to hurt people by pushing the same treatment onto them i will not be surprised. i will be surprised when he tries to marry me. i will not blame him (much) when he tries to kill me. our children are missing. he is forced to pretend that his is not. i wish i could too. i will not tell him yes or no because i need an open avenue to manipulate him (because to save him i will have to manipulate him). i will not marry him because he is out of his mind. i have said marriage is overrated. i have also said that i want to live with him in a house with our kids and my skeppy. when he tells me that he wants to be happy with me i will still say 'aw' because it is the most genuine thing he has said to me and i miss my friend. i will still try to kill him. i fail to kill him with someone else's plan. i don't place a block to lock him in place. i hesitate. it doesn't matter if it's on purpose because the next plan works. i will reveal an item that could destroy me to my closest allies (and tubbo) because it will let us save him. we save him. when he kills himself 18 times over i back away from the explosion in surprise and then step close again. while i have grieved i have thrown myself into mines. it doesn't matter. i am numb and want to feel something. everything has lost colour. we save him.
i visit federation workers and ask them about my eggs and they do not tell me anything. i know they are lying. i visit the graveyard to talk to my lost eggs. i have lost all of the eggs. i do not know how to save them. i lay in the mud. it rains and rain signifies the monster has returned to kill my children but my children are not here and so i do not care. when i go home i will become so angry and i will go down to my basement (which i have locked like my friend locked the entrance to his greatest fantasy. we are so alike and our delusions are different. he child was real; here is the secret to finding my children) where i have locked a federation worker away. i will not wash away the blood stains.
i am also part-time grim reaper and i only ever dress up in robes to make people drink more water."
#this was supposed to be a quick summary of his character. help.#this is a quick warning about the other bigger post i am writing about him and how his Whole Deal and World View is and why he's being so#soft with forever despite the Nightmare Horrors#to put it more simply: he's built different#qsmp#bbh#q badboyhalo#qsmp character analysis#<- more like qsmp character 'here is everything about this character but hang on there's even More'#HELLPPPPP IM IN THE TRENCHESSSS#did you know there's a 4096 character limit on a block of text. guess how i found that out#but everything is SO IMPORTANT to how he reacts to everything else#he holds grudges like nobody's business but he's also a hypocrite and plays favourites#he's stubborn and Chooses enemies and friends and there are always lines to cross but he understands context#and the forever thing has the context of bad looking at him and going 'i know what you're feeling. i know why you're doing this.'#'i know i would be worse'
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TTPD Track Speculation/Prediction: @wavesoutbeingtossed Edition
Against my better judgment, I’m putting down my predictions before I am proven completely wrong on April 19.
on the other hand I did correctly attribute all of the 1989 TV vault track teaser lyrics to their songs before it was released so maybe I’m just that good jk.
I’m putting everything under a cut because it’s long and mostly just shooting the shit but it’s a long weekend so what the heck!
I started writing this the night the album was announced at the Grammys in February, so obviously things may have evolved in the meantime. It will be very interesting to see just how wrong I am!
Here be speculation, musings, jokes and more! Enter at your own risk!
SOUND:
I honestly have NO CLUE. I’ve said many, many times that I would be absolutely gagged for an Americana-folk type sound like Carolina/Safe and Sound/some of her acoustic performances on tour. I don’t really expect TTPD to sound quite that stripped back, though. (Prove me wrong, Taylor!)
I am kind of feeling pop-rock-y though, à la WCS, TTDS, based on absolutely nothing but that is also a genre/sound I love that I am begging to hear more on albums.
Completely off the wall guess: Something more jazzy-big band-y, based on nothing but her styling in recent months on the red carpet that harkens back to golden age of Hollywood vibes (especially the Grammys), the inclusion of Clara Bow (renowned flapper girl) on the track list, and the way she keeps talking about being grateful fans accept her bending and switching genres over the years and support her when she does “weird” things.
FORMAT (?)
OK this is just me spitballing, but I said awhile back that I am just getting vibes that there may be, like, a story within a story with this. As in, using some fictional settings as an allegory for the story about herself. The example I used then was The Lumineers, and how they wrote their album III about three generations of a fictional family dealing with addiction, which was an allegory for the lead singer’s own family’s experience with it (without directly calling out the family member in question at the time). There were characters in the album, but many of the songs were sung from an “I”/“you” perspective. I may not be explaining myself well, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there are “fictional” stories in that they’re sung about characters (e.g. Clara Bow?), but it will be obvious to fans that she’s using the characters to speak about herself and her experiences. I’m just getting big “storytelling” energy from the hints. Which means I’m totally wrong!!!! Don’t listen to me!!! (I do think there will be some shades of this somehow, though.)
TRACK LIST SPECULATION
Fortnight: Think you are all on the money about it being the time between the start of tour and when Joever happened for good. Sort of a “two years of uncertainty coming to a head in two weeks” thing. Spending two weeks agonizing over what to do. Two weeks for your whole life to blow up. Finally being removed from the situation and grasping onto your dreams that have been on hold for years and realizing your mind’s made up because you won’t give this part of you up even if it means letting go of what you thought your future held. But another thing I’ve thought of: some common wisdom claims it takes two weeks for a new routine to become a habit, so… outside chance it’s like, two weeks go by and you’re finally used to/accepted whatever it is you’re trying to kick? Also had a thought that there could be many two-week periods that can mark your life and give pause.
The Tortured Poets Department: No idea really lol. For some reason I feel like this is going to be a little more experimental, “laying the groundwork for the defense” type of vibe, kinda like Mastermind, or using the investigative/academic metaphor to delve into it like, Mad Woman or Vigilante Shit. (Or: it could be super petty roasting the infamous group chat lol. In all seriousness though I would doubt that because I feel like this album is very much about Her… unless said group chat was so insufferable she needs to blast it on main.)
My Boy Only Breaks His Favourite Toys: I saw some talk on my dash about this giving renegade themes (you fire off missiles because you hate yourself but don’t you know you’re demolishing me), and I totally thought the same thing. Also those of you who pointed out the parallels to Cardigan are geniuses (when I was an old cardigan under someone’s bed you put me on and said I was your favorite). Again kinda think there might be some more metaphor in this but guessing it may be along the lines of “he’s only doing this because he knows I won’t leave” themes? It instantly gives dark and uneasy. It gives, the people you love are the ones you hurt the most. All signs point to Not Good.
(Or this is about Benji destroying his spin toys or is that just my cat that does that.)
Down Bad: Someone said (on Jaime’s blog I think*) that this is giving False God but icky and I can TOTALLY see that. (Then again I’ve always found False God sad in the sense that it’s like, “even when we fight so bad we can’t communicate we still have the sex holding us together.”) But, Taylor does like to take sayings with common meanings and twist them on their heads, so I also wouldn’t be surprised if “Down Bad,” isn’t referring to being down as in being horny for someone, but being down as in, feeling devastated/hopeless. (Or, even worse, mean both at the same time. 😵💫)
(*I wrote this post in February after the announcement, I don’t have a clue when any of this was said anymore sorry)
So Long, London: like a lot of people, I feel like this is her goodbye to the life they had and more importantly/poignantly, the dreams she had of their future. (I don’t know but, “remember looking at this room we loved cause of the light, now I just sit in the dark and wonder if it’s time” just feels like it’d be part of this story.) So because I’ve said that, watch it be an excoriation of London Boy lol. (You know I’m mad at a London Boy / who just really won’t leave Camden / Market in the afternoon / he hasn’t seen my American smile / in two months cause he won’t come to see me / when I have a show to do…) Feel like it’s going to gut us. BUT, also wonder if this is her “I’m getting the fuck out of dodge ROCK FLAG AND EAGLE” anthem haha. (Or: she ran away to London to escape the Bad Stuff but then got stuck in another kind of Bad Stuff living there for so long…)
But Daddy I Love Him: Pretty obviously the Little Mermaid reference. Very curious if the actual quote is in the song, or if it’s just named that to set the scene but the song instead is an expounding on the theme of giving up her voice for the sake of the relationship like Ariel. Also wonder if this is an overtly diaristic song or if she is going to use characters/figures/fiction to expand on the theme subtly, a little like Maisie Peters’ History of Man or Florence & The Machine’s Cassandra or even more pointedly like her own Last Great American Dynasty or The Lucky One. I do assume the overarching theme is going to be the push-pull between keeping her love and giving up things that are important to her to make that love work. (Watch this be about her arguing with her father about marrying *** lol.)
The theme of giving up your voice/what you hold dear for love is so loaded, and has some parallels to Clara Bow’s story, which is also on the track list so… Lots to chew on I’m sure.
Fresh Out The Slammer: Totally think the reference to her locking herself up for years at home because she was scared in the Time POTY interview is a likely link to this. Feeling free after the weight of this decision is off her shoulders, yet the sheer terror at now being on her own and rebuilding her future. It could be uplifting but I could also see it being like pure chaos. BUT, a thought I had earlier is that, if this is a song that was written pre-Joever, maybe it’s about the aftermath of a rough patch. Like, we just got our get out of jail free cards, we made it through the other side of this Big Thing that almost ended us (e.g. the final blow in YLM), where do we go from here?
Florida!!!: Emphasis on the “!!!”!!! Honestly it had me at FLORENCE AND THE MACHINE. I’m soooooo curious and sooooooooooooo pumped for this one. I don’t want to let myself hope it’s going to sound like a Florence song BUT I HOPE IT SOUNDS LIKE A FLORENCE SONG. I’m going to guess it may be a reference to the first stop on tour after the news broke. Wasn’t that also a show where a ton of things went wrong? I can see it going so many ways! Is it a hopeful “Florida I’m coming for you you’re a symbol of my great escape my prison break my entire life crumbling and rising again”? An introspective “I never thought I’d have to rebuild my whole world after it imploded, in Florida of all places?!”? Is it a sarcastic “fucking Florida always the scene of the crime I can’t believe my life is falling apart and I need to go to FUCKASS FLORIDA oh great every thing that can go wrong with my show is FLORIDA!!!!”? Is it a rant about the corporate mouse? Or a scathing takedown of Republican politics ahead of the 2024 elections? (lol) Who’s to say?!
Guilty as Sin?: Sooooooooooo curious about this. I’m a Carolina Stan and I know there is 0% chance there is a link between the two songs other than the lyric which is a common term, but it does make me happy. My first thought about this one is that it’s going to be biting or self-reflective — kinda like the bridge of Is It Over Now? Or the chorus of Anti-Hero. As in, “what is it exactly that you think I’m guilty of?” (E.g. ambition? Drive? Seeking attention? Being selfish? But could also be sad: Loving too hard? Caring too much? Being too needy? Hmmm.) I’m kind of feeling like it’s a “if it’s wrong to be guilty of these things I don’t want to be right.” Again if I had to guess I’d wonder if it would have the same vibes as the bridge of YLM. (For some reason, with the question mark, I don’t necessarily think it’s going to be accusing someone of something…)* I also had a thought about the seven deadly sins and this title and… THOUGHTS ARE THINKING**.
(*I may not have found it accusatory in February, but with the benefit of hindsight in March I… reserve the right to change my mind about this.)
(**Future Waves here: the thoughts may have been thinking for February Waves but March Waves has no idea what she was talking about.)
Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?: I don’t knooooooooooow. At first the title kinda gave me Blank Space vibes, like, you don’t know how much I could fuck this up if I wanted. Then some people mentioned the similarity to Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? And now that’s absolutely all I can think about. If you’ve ever seen the movie (or the play), it is rooooooooough. Watching George and Martha drunkenly eviscerate each other as their guests watch on in horror is… oof. (As someone who has seen this happen in real life and was trapped on a boat with a couple in full unhinged mode… OOF. Just OOF.) Of course there’s the Burton-Taylor of it all too so… (there’s also an interesting theme in Virginia Woolf about buying into illusion to avoid the messiness of reality… and Martha resenting George’s lack of ambition.) Is this song cheeky? Or a threat? Is this a Better Than Revenge/Vigilante Shit rebuke or is it Bejeweled owning her personhood?
(Like any of these songs, there’s also the chance that it’s heartbreaking and is really a reflection on how the things that make her her can be weaponized against her… Or how her struggles/vices alienate her to the person she loves a la Anti-Hero…)
I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can): My first thought is this is going to be one of her sarcastic/satirical/funnier ones, based on nothing except that this sounds like it could be an Olivia Rodrigo cheeky song lol. (Like, I immediately start singing this to the tune of “Get Him Back.”) Never beat those allegations, Taylor, we’ve all been there. It definitely feels like a stereotypical tale of “girl tries to fix a man who doesn’t want to change and refuses to give up.” Watch this actually be a sad ballad about the flip side of renegade and trying to help a partner through a crisis 😬
loml: the quiet menace in this list!!!! Obviously we’re all immediately thinking “love of my life,” but because this is Taylor, we should not rest easy. The fact that it’s all in small caps is curious to me and calls back to text speak, so is this a term of endearment that turns into a final parting sign off? Is it from an email ahem? Is it a sweet song about the good parts of being together? A wistful song about a lost love? BUT THEN, because it’s Taylor, I can totally see this being a bait and switch and it standing for something else as some of you pointed out, like loss of my life, or love OR my life. Or something entirely different. I’m pretty convinced that this one is going to be devastating in some fashion. I just feel it in my bones.
I Can Do It With a Broken Heart: Like many of you, I’m fairly certain this is going to be a bittersweet Long Live-esque ode to the Eras tour. The pick yourself up by the bootstraps, get out of bed, the show must go on and the show is saving my life story. Just thinking of the quote from the Time POTY interview where she said, “I know I’m going on that stage whether I’m sick, injured, heartbroken, uncomfortable, or stressed.” And in those early weeks, it seems like she might have been all of those things at once. Just trying to talk yourself into getting out of bed when all you want the earth’s core to swallow you whole and never come back. Kind of like, I can pick up the pieces of my life and carry on even when I am dying inside.
The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived: Obviously this is about one Benjamin Button, please. OK, in all seriousness, it’s giving, well… *shots fired*. It’s giving “your integrity makes me seem small.” It’s giving “I’m a monster on the hill, too big to hang out.” It’s giving “all you are is mean.” So, part of me thinks it’s going to be turned on its head a little bit, just because… it seems to point to something directly and sometimes Taylor enjoys a bit of misdirection. So is this about someone who takes shots at someone else and in so doing, displays their own insecurity? Another thought I had is: Is this about someone who retreats into their own world so much that they’ve shut out everything and everyone else? Their whole world gets shrunken down to the four walls around them? I have a strong feeling this is an allegory-type song, using a fictionalized and possibly fantastical story to tell the real life one, but obviously I could be wrong.
The Alchemy: gonna be real with you all: I didn’t know that alchemy was the practice of turning base metals into something that looks like gold. I think I was mixing it up with apothecary or something, lol. I thought it was the practice of making potions and whatnot. #TheMoreYouKnow ANYWAY, I think the idea of “turning nothing into something that shines” is going to be important. Is it about using her best colours for a portrait to hide the cracks underneath? Is it about trying your best to make something work and thrive but ultimately coming up empty because the foundation is gone? Is it about turning these base experiences into art that fuels her? There are so many possibilities! (@taylortruther’s post about The Alchemy and other comments got me thinking too about the magician/illusionist scenario in So It Goes and now my brain is on fire.)
Clara Bow: Soooooooooo intrigued by this one too. People have pointed out so many of the interesting coincidences and parallels in their lives. Clara Bow was a silent film star who found her voice in the talkies — that right there is one metaphor about finding your voice in your art and your life. But it’s also an interesting parallel that she managed to parlay her success in silent film into talkies, at a time where few actors enjoyed a successful transition, which mirrors Taylor’s transition from country to pop. There’s the way Clara’s private life was splashed all over the press, driven by salacious rumours about her sex life and her perceived revolving door of lovers, which seems like something Taylor would empathize with. There’s the way she had a breakdown and left Hollywood, which may have some shades of 2016. Or that she got married and started a family, but insisted on keeping it a secret for many years to maintain privacy, which is interesting because in this case it seems like *Clara* was the one driving the need for secrecy, not her husband. (At least I read that in one article somewhere, sorry if that’s wrong!) Ultimately though, she died relatively young and was forgotten by mainstream Hollywood, a relic of a past uninteresting to all but the most diehard of film buffs. I’m getting vibes of “The Lucky One,” (and “Nothing New”) both in themes and in storytelling. So, watch it be completely different and not a story about Clara Bow but instead just have it be an off-hand line lol.
BONUS TRACKS
The Manuscript: I’m veeeeeery intrigued by this one. (I know I say that about all of them. That’s because they all intrigue me.) I love the idea that this wraps up the “standard” album; the chair(wo)man of the Tortured Poets Department has submitted her thesis for review, and it’s up to the board to draw their conclusion. OR: the idea that this is the unfiltered submission to a publisher, before the editor’s review that will cut and tighten and ultimately make it better, but loses the author’s initial vision in the process. (Like self-editing to share the most palatable story to your reader. Which… Also gives Dear Reader/Midnights in general vibes.) OR EVEN: this is the author’s story, submitted to the audience for their review, leaving it up to them to draw their conclusions and annotate. There are sooooooo many ways I can see this going.
The Bolter: A curious one indeed! I feel like of all of the bonus tracks at least, this is the one I have the least idea about. My immediate guess is that it refers to a person who runs, which would have all kinds of implications. Running from the law (unlikely lol), running from commitment, running from conflict… running for your life. Like running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (single girl version) to running from commitment because you’re scared of being tied down (bitter wife* version). (*NOT saying there was a secret wedding lol. I mean as in, that’s the future that was in store if one stayed.) I saw other takes saying bolter is also slang for jailer, which is also interesting with the Ready For It of it all.
The Albatross: So much has been said about this one, so I don’t think I have much to ado about this one! The famous poem is rife with all kinds of allusions: the bird soaring on its own for up to six years, but being brought down by man’s cruelty. The bird looking majestic in the skies, but the burden of its wings dragging it down on land, slowly killing it. The story being a metaphor for how the very thing poets are exalted for in society are the things they are punished for personally. I think it’s safe to say this one is going to hurt regardless, whether it’s a reference to herself, to ***, or something else entirely.
The Black Dog: Also another one I’m not sure I have many thoughts on yet. The black dog being a metaphor for depression is likely the inspiration, and I’m assuming this has the potential to be one of the most vulnerable songs yet. I have a feeling most of this album will be, but the imagery of this — the black dog being a constant companion, wanted or not, casting a pall over its master’s every move — points in a pretty obvious direction. And one that is probably going to gut us.
Well there you have it folks! I am ready to be completely wrong!
#the tortured poets department#Happy Good Friday this post has risen from the dead#(oops was that uncouth of me)#three weeks!!!!!!#i need this album now#my brain is on fire#Writing letters addressed to the fire
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Feyd-Rautha Headcanons
As with everyone else on this website, I recently watched Dune Pt. 2 and am besotted with Feyd-Rautha. So much so that I had to write a set of little headcanons, representing some events of the books from his perspective. I’ll be mixing up the movie and book lore a little for this one, with Feyd having spent the first few years of his life on Lankiveil with his parents before they were killed by the Baron. Hope you like it, folks!
The (ill-fated) life of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen
Feyd remembers very little of his life before being taken in by the Baron. Sometimes, if he concentrates very hard, a few fragments appear—a warm, smiling woman bending over to pick him up, a toddler timidly boarding a ship surrounded by icy glaciers. An imposing man with a heavy-set beard to looks over and says: “Do not fear the whaling boats, my son. One day they will be yours, this planet will be yours.”
The warm words and embraces of his birth parents become little more than a hazy dream as he grows up on Giedi Prime. Every shred of humanity is brutally stripped from Feyd as the Baron carefully molds the young Harkonnen into a ruthless tyrant.
From the age of 5, a blade is placed in his hands and he is forced to kill a servant for the heinous crime of breathing too loudly. At 7, he is beaten within an inch of his life for looking at a starving slave with sorrow and sympathy.
When Feyd reaches adolescence, he begins to take an interest in women. His uncle takes note and assigns him a swarm of concubines who are among the most beautiful women on Giedi Prime. They dote on him endlessly, but fail to hold his interest, as it's the daughter of a minor nobleman who truly holds him captive. Her name is Neyla, and in her wide, soft-set eyes he sees another future. A future where he escapes with her, sheds the horrors of his daily life, and lives free from the lustful stares of his uncle who he despises with the bitterness of poison.
His secret embraces with Neyla coax out the final scraps of tenderness his hardening heart would ever feel, but it isn't long before the Baron becomes aware of his weakness. In his overconfidence, Feyd petitions his uncle for Neyla’s hand, but instead of a bride, he receives a front-seat view of her beheading. That night, Feyd holds his blade to his own throat, and wonders how hard he would need to press before it cut through his flesh.
Neyla’s death causes something to shift within Feyd. His hatred for his uncle and brother remains, but he is no longer overcome with escapist desires. He is hell-bent on power, obsessed with it. His fighting regimens become brutal and unhealthy and his bloodlust intensifies as every waking moment is spent plotting and scheming against his uncle.
Eventually, his rage boils over, culminating in a disastrous assassination attempt on the Baron. Amused by the boy’s nerve, the Baron forces him to slaughter every woman in the pleasure wing under his watchful and lecherous eye. While Feyd has learned to find a perverse enjoyment in violence, the terror in the last surviving slave-girl’s eyes stirs up the memory of Neyla as she tearfully begged for mercy in the moments before her death. His blade falters for a moment, and he faces his uncle with a curled lip and flaring nostrils before striking the final blow.
When Feyd is informed that he will be taking stewardship of Arrakis, he can barely contain the twisted joy in his heart. His beastly fool of a brother couldn’t lead an operation if it slithered into his bed at night, and failed pitifully to subdue the Fremen, putting the entire Harkonnen bloodline to shame. Feyd hates his brother almost as much as he hates his uncle, and feels a deep pleasure watching him skulk around with his tail between his legs. It’s the recognition that Feyd so desperately craves. A chance to prove myself in the face of the entire Landsraad.
Feyd doesn’t take well to the desert. The dryness of the air, the need to ration water as if it were oxygen, and his general inability to be outdoors in the daytime tests him physically and mentally. Already sickly from the journey across deep space, he spends his first few days on-world in a state of fever and delirium (an embarrassment that his closest servants and concubines conceal under pain of death).
When he faces the harsh desert air, he catches a hint of something vaguely cinnamon tasting—the spice. He isn’t fond of it. It causes his mind to fuzz and glaze over, his thoughts to multiply. As the spice builds in his system, he begins to possess a sharpened awareness of his own past, and if he dare allow it, his future. He sees himself drowning in possibilities, a tiny figure nestled within a grander design stretching deep into the conscioussness of all those who had come before. He shudders. Closing himself off in airlocked chambers, he convinces himself that No Bene Gesserit witch, Guildsman, or Imperial beaurocrat has control over his destiny.
He hears whispers of the Muad’Dib—a fearsome warrior who commands an almost religious frenzy among the Fremen, and is capable of uprooting even the most well-executed Harkonnen desert operation. His heart thrums at the challenge. To defeat such a figure would be something else indeed! This would be unlike his show-fights with drugged prisoners in the gladiator arenas. No, he would fight this Muad’Dib and win, crushing the resolve of the Fremen. He would go down in history as the one who tamed Arrakis.
Silence makes Feyd uncomfortable. He always has a quip or comeback ready, and the deathly silence of the room as he and Paul circle one another is unbearable. He eases his discomfort with a number of taunts towards his cousin, but internally rages at the serene and slightly bemused face of the man opposite. Why doesn’t he speak? Feyd continues his chatter as they fight, calming his increasing fear at Paul's strength and dexterity.
The two separate momentarily and stalk each other in a circle. Feyd stares at his enemy avidly and unhealthily. When he looks at Paul, really looks at him, he is disturbed by their resemblance. He is shocked to realise that he feels jealous of the man—the Kwisatz Haderach, who was and is loved by many and nurtured through faith and loyalty, unlike the Harkonnens who ruled by fear and intimidation.
No one, save for his deceased parents and Neyla, had ever loved Feyd-Rautha in his entire life. People only entertained him out of fear that their refusal would incur death, including his concubines. Women. There’s a thought. He looks over Paul’s shoulder and sees an attractive Fremen woman looking on in fear, eyes swimming in devotion. Attempting to goad the Muad’Dib, he cruelly spits: “A pet I see? Will she be deserving of my special attention?” He hides his seething jealousy with taunts, and feels the sting of knowing no one would ever look at him with the pure and freely-given love that this desert woman regards Paul.
Crystal-clear images of Lankiveil fill Feyd's mind as Paul’s crysknife enters his skull. The spice-awareness blesses him, and a wry smile crosses his lips in the knowledge that his dance is over.
#feyd rautha#feyd rautha harkonnen#dune#dune part 2#dune 2#paul atreides#austin butler#timothée chalamet
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Drunk sorrow
Drunk!LeonKennedy x Female!Reader
Summary: Leon is drunk, longing for you.
Warning: mentions of alcohol
I broke up with Leon, my boyfriend of 3 years, a month ago because he barely had time for me due to his job. I thought it would be better that way. We wouldn't keep hurting each other...but the truth is this hurt more. I keep thinking about him, missing his smile, his touches, his voice...everything. I laid in my bed thinking about him...like every other night. My ringtone pulled me out from my thoughts, so I reached for my phone. Leon said the caller ID. I froze in my spot and frowned but picked it up. "Leon?" I said quietly. "Hey, are you y/n?" An unknown voice from the other line said and I furrowed my brows in confusion. "Um yeah, where is Leon ...is he okay?" I asked worried, what was going on. "I'm one of the employee at Angel Bar. I am calling you because Leon is very drunk, he kept saying your name and we're closing soon. Can you pick him up?" The employee said. "Be there in 15 minutes." I murmed getting out of my bed and put some clothes on. I quickly rush to my car, my heart pounding with a mix of concern and hesitation.
As I drive to the bar, memories flood my mind. The late nights waiting for him to come home, the missed anniversaries and birthdays, the constant feeling of being second to his job. It was a difficult decision to end our relationship, but I knew it would be better this way. When I arrive at Angel Bar, I park the car and take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to face Leon again. I step inside, scanning the room until I spot him sitting at the bar, slouched over with a somber expression on his face. The bartender gives me a sympathetic look as I approach. "Thank you for coming," he says softly. "He's had quite a few drinks tonight." Approaching Leon cautiously, I place a hand on his shoulder, trying to rouse him gently. "Leon, it's me. I'm here to take you home," I say softly, my voice filled with a mix of concern and unresolved emotions.
Leon looks up at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and longing. "You came?" he asks, his voice slightly slurred. I nod, "Of course I came. You're still important to me, Leon, even after all this time." There's a part of me that wants to scold him, to ask why the fuck would he get drunk like this, but I push those thoughts aside for now. He looks remorseful, his eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he mumbles, his words slurred. "I messed up. I've been a terrible boyfriend, always prioritizing work over us."
I sigh, a mix of frustration and longing washing over me. "Yes, you were," I reply honestly. Leon's gaze drops, and he nods slowly. "I know I messed up, Y/N. I've been carrying the weight of that regret the entire month, I still fucking love you, and I want to be a better boyfriend for you." His voice cracks and he sobs. My heart aches at his words, the old feelings resurfacing. But I can't let myself be swayed so easily. "Leon, you are drunk. I don't wanna talk about this." I sigh and look away frowning. His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he reaches out to hold my hand. "I understand, Y/N...but please just give me another chance. I want to prove to you that I can be the partner you deserve." He pleads and sobs. "Lee, we will talk about this once you are sober, okay?" I reassure him and wipe his tears. "Come on, I'm gonna drive you home." I say and pull him up gently. "N-no...I don't wanna be alone." He sobs and grips me. "Please." He pleads and my heart is shattered. I sigh and smile sadly. "Okay..." We make our way out of the bar, Leon leaning on me for support. "Thank you..." He sobs as we walk to my car. I make sure his seatbelt is on and start driving to my home, a silence hangs heavy in the air, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
When we finally arrive, I help him inside, guiding him to the couch. He looks up at me, his eyes filled with regret. Sitting down beside him, I take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Leon, I can see that you're hurting, and I don't want you to keep carrying that pain. We both deserve happiness, but it has to be in a way that works for both of us." He nods, his expression filled with a mix of gratitude and longing. "I want to start working on myself, trying to find a better balance. I want to be a better partner, someone who can be there for you. But I can't do this without you." A frown covers his face, puffy eyes from crying. A part of me wants to believe his words, to give our relationship another chance. But I know that trust takes time to rebuild, and there are no guarantees. "Leon, but it's going to take more than just promises. We both need to put in the effort to make it work."
He looks at me, determination flickering in his eyes. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes, to prove to you that I can change. I love you, and I don't want to lose you completely." He says and I take a deep breath, contemplating his words. It's a risk, a leap of faith, but maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to make it work. "Go and take a shower...we can talk about this tomorrow, okay?" I ask and he nods getting up. "I will bring you a towel...and some clothes." I murm remembering I still have a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie. He walks to the bathroom and I take the clothes, bringing them to him. Once he spots what I'm holding he grins. "I was searching for that..." He murms with a sheeplish smile. "Looks better on you anyway." He smiles like a dork making me chuckle and shake my head.
I leave the bathroom and walk to the kitchen, getting water and some pain killers for Leon tomorrow. After a few minutes Leon comes from the bathroom wearing the hoodie and sweatpants. My heart flutters at the sight of him, hair wet, messy and cheeks red from the warm water. "I can sleep on the couch...I made you enough trouble..." He says nervously and I just nod. "Um- Ill bring you some pillows and a duvet." I say and get up to the bedroom. I would love to have him in the bed next to me...but I can't do that. Bringing the stuff back to the living room, I prepare it for him as he sits and watches me. "Drink some water..." I nod towards the glass filled with water on the table and he hums in response reaching for it and drinking it. He lays on the couch, I cover him with the duvet. "Sleep now..." I say and stand up. "Thank you...I love you." He murms but I can see that he is half asleep. I sigh and bite my lip. "I love you too.." I mumble under my breath and go to my room to sleep.
I keep tossing in my bed, not able to sleep. Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon...Leon won't leave my mind. I hear noises from the living room...tossing and turning...then hear his voice. A nightmare. He's having a nightmare. I instantly make my way to the living room, flicking the light from my room so its not so dark. I spot his face, brows knitted together, sweat sliding on his forhead as he murms and cries from his sleep. I cup his cheeks gently. "Leon...hey, you are safe..." I whisper. "Don't hurt her...y/n..." He cries and i frown, shaking him a little. He opens his eyes and catches his breath. He then sees me and sighs relieved. "Hey, hey...it's okay, you are okay." I reasure him, pull him up and he stands up. "What are you-" He says between deeo breaths. "I'm not letting you sleep here..." I say and lead him to my room. He gets under the covers with me and I hold him in my arms. "I never want you to leave me..." He says quietly and hides his face in the crook of my neck. "I'm not leaving...I promise." I reasure him and kiss his head. He relaxes and soon we are both asleep holding each other.
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Closed Position: Meet the Characters
Closed Position Masterlist ||| Main Masterlist
With the first chapter of the Dancing with the Stars fic, Closed Position, finally posting next week, I thought it might be fun to get to know Dieter and Kat a little bit more. I mostly did this for myself to try and get the Destiny & Deliverance version of Dieter out of my head. I also wanted to figure out Katarina a little more…because again, I still have Talia on the brain. 🤦🏻♀️
So, given that, you guys get some fun details on these two that will hopefully help me switch gears and give them a little more depth.
About Dieter Bravo in Closed Position
At the beginning of this fic, Dieter is eight months post rehab. This is the first time he has successfully kept clean for any meaningful length of time, and he is determined to stick with it. His acting career hasn't been going well because no one wants to work with him. He's looking to change his image and prove that he is a different man to get his life back on track. However, that process is proving harder than he would have thought as no one is taking his recovery seriously. As a last-ditch effort to save Dieter's career, his agent books him on Dancing with the Stars.
In an effort to hold on to his sobriety, Dieter has cut pretty much everyone out of his life that he considered to be an enabler or a bad influence. He spends a lot of his time alone and fills it with hobbies - painting, reading, music, taking care of his plants and the stubborn stray cat that won't leave his beach house.
Dieter has also been making an effort to present himself as less of a slob. When he leaves the house these days, he tries to look presentable and even dresses appropriately for work meetings. He slowly starts to embrace fashion and wants to look his best. He has held onto his longer curly locks, but instead of leaving them in an unruly mess, he does try to style them so that he looks more put together. As he gains more confidence, he embraces this version of himself and doesn't think twice about the old worn clothes he used to live in... except for his green robe. He still wears it around the house.
Even though Dieter keeps busy, he's lonely. He feels misunderstood and wishes people would give him a chance to prove himself. Ultimately, his dance partner gives him that opportunity. Sure, he finds her attractive, but it goes deeper than that. She gives him true friendship and the non-sexual intimacy that he has starved himself of most of his life.
About Katarina Stamos in Closed Position
Katriana Stamos has been involved with ballroom dance since she was very young. She has spent the last 13 years on Dancing with the Stars, where she often does not make it very far into the competition. Mainly due the partners she is paired with because they are just not physically able to keep up. She has suspicions that there are other nefarious reasons for it too. Those suspicions are confirmed during her last season on the show when she is paired with Dieter Bravo.
Kat isn't old by any means, but she is past the typical age of retirement for a ballroom dancer at 39. While dancing appears to be all about the glitz and glamor, behind the scenes its full of struggle and pain. Kat's body is wearing down and aches constantly due to worsening rheumatoid arthritis in her feet, knees, and hips. She's often too tired and achy after rehearsal to do things like clean her modest size house or go out with her castmates. She's a little messy and at times struggles to keep it together. However, she isn't going to let these issues get her down during her last season, not when she has finally been paired with someone that has potential to make it to finals.
This is an amazing opportunity for Kat, financially speaking. One would assume that being a cast member on Dancing with the Stars would be a good payout. It is, for those who make it further into the competition. Since Kat hasn't been lucky enough to do that, things can get tight with finances. Especially since she is trying to save up to open her own dance studio once she does finally retire from professional dancing. If she can make it to the end this time, her funding problems will be solved.
The last notable thing about Kat...she is dating another dancer on the show named Alec. They've been together for six years. Alec is kind of a jerk for many reasons that we will see play out through the course of the story. He becomes almost unbearable to deal with when Dieter comes into the mix even though Alec is the one that has a terrible history when it comes to fidelity.
There are some other tidbits we find out about Kat early on that explains why she is so accepting of Dieter and willing to give him a chance. What she doesn't expect are the feelings that come with their budding friendship.
How are you guys feeling about these new characters and this different version of Dieter? Excited yet?
I have done a TON of research around the behind-the-scenes workings of the show. I plan to share some of that with you as we go along. It has actually helped form a lot of the plot. While I don't claim 100% accuracy on it, I do plan to try and incorporate details as accurately as I can from what information is public.
With all that said, we finally get to really meet these two next week. I can't wait to finally share them with you!
💜Mysty
Series Summary: Dieter Bravo, now sober, was looking to change his bad boy image after hitting rock bottom. His team hoped that having him join the nationally televised family friendly dance competition would be a good first step, if they can keep him out of trouble.
Katarina Stamos expected her last season as a professional dancer on Dancing with the Stars to go the same as it had for the past thirteen seasons. That all changed when she was partnered with the infamous Dieter Bravo.
Dieter and Katarina are reluctantly thrown into their partnership and must learn to work together to succeed in the competition. In the process they form a deeper connection beyond the dance floor that neither anticipated.
👉 Warnings: Themes dealing with intimate partner violence, alcohol abuse, and drug abuse. There will be fluff, tears, spicy language, and smut. This will be a slow burn. Read at your own risk. Dieter Bravo comes with his own warnings.
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#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fic#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfic#closed position series#closed position extra
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