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hjparisian · 1 year ago

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you're losing me pt. II- theodore nott x reader

p: theodore nott x gn! reader w: angst (sorry not sorry), slight cussing summary: (Y/N) is coping with their fight with Theodore, but an unwanted conversation reveals more than (Y/N) expected. a/n: the long awaited part two, thank you all for being patient and for all the love you gave to part one. can't believe it took me this long to get part two out and im so sorry but i had trouble writing and coming up with ideas

Winter break had felt like the longest and worst couple weeks to (Y/N) ever. All they really did was sat in their room, read, attempt to study, and occasionally write to Pansy.

The Malfoy's had thrown a party on New Year's Eve. All pureblooded families were invited, which meant (Y/N)'s family and the Nott family. They were not ready to see Theodore. Unfortunately, no matter how hard (Y/N) tried, they couldn't escape it.

The day of the party, (Y/N) sat and stared at the outfit laid out for them to wear. Maybe it'll spontaneously combust and they would have no outfit to wear and can't go. Yeah, right. As if that'll actually happen. Their mother probably has a bunch of backup outfits for them to wear anyways.

At least Pansy said she would try to stay by their side the whole time. Keyword, try. Because Blaise would probably try to steal Pansy to go snog somewhere.

The second (Y/N) and their parents entered the Malfoy Manor, they felt like running away and throwing up. Why? Oh, because of course the first person they'd find was Theodore Nott.

"(Y/N)!"

Oh bless Pansy for catching their attention. But also curse her because apparently the sound of their name caught Theodore's ears and made him turn his head towards them.

(Y/N) looked away from him.

(Y/N) hugged Pansy. "Pansy! How has your break been?"

"It's been nice. Got to hang out with Blaise a lot," she said. "What about you (Y/N)? How have you been feeling?"

Now, (Y/N) could lie and say they've been great and having a lovely break. But of course Pansy would see straight through their little lie.

"If I have to be honest Pans, I still feel like shit."

Pansy looked at them with concern. The fact that the reason (Y/N) felt terrible was in the room didn't help them.

"Well, I know Millicent and Tracey are here and I know they wanna catch up with us. Plus there's drinks. There's nothing better than drinks at these boring parties, right?" Pansy said in attempt to make (Y/N) feel better.

The two had gone and found their fellow schoolmates at the side of the room. Unfortunately for (Y/N), Daphne Greengrass and her sister Astoria were also there.

Pansy and (Y/N) greeted their schoolmates, with (Y/N) avoiding eye contact with Daphne. They listened as Pansy was telling the other girls about what she's been doing.

"What about you, (Y/N)?" Tracey asked them. "Done anything fun during break?"

"I've just been home reading," They told Tracey. "My parents decided not to go to France this year so I've been cooped up in my room."

"What about Theodore?" piped Millicent. Pansy's eyes slightly widened at her friend's question. "You didn't go see him?"

(Y/N) wanted the ground to open up and swallow them whole. Of course their other friends would ask about their relationship with Theodore. No one seems to know what's going on other than Pansy and maybe Blaise.

"No I didn't," (Y/N) said. "He's been busy." They looked at Daphne to see any reaction from her but surprisingly it was pretty neutral.

"I think I'm going to get a glass of champagne or something." (Y/N) said. "Anyone want one?"

"Oh, one for me please!" Tracey told them. (Y/N) nodded before leaving to find one of the waiters walking around with trays full of champagne.

After grabbing two drinks for themselves and Tracey, (Y/N) turned around to find themselves face to face with the one person they did not want to see.

Theodore fucking Nott.

The boy also grabbed a glass from the waiter's tray and took a sip on it.

"So, you're here," He said to (Y/N).

"I am."

Theodore looked them up and down. "You look nice."

(Y/N) gave him a curt 'thanks', wanting to get away from here.

"(Y/N)," Theodore called out.

"What do you want?" (Y/N) asked him impatiently. "I've got friends waiting for me."

"Just wanted to say hope you're having a nice break," he said hesitantly, almost as if he wanted to say something else.

(Y/N) gave him an odd look before shaking their head and walking away, not wanting to look at him a second more.

Once (Y/N) returned to their group and handed Tracey her drink, they find Pansy staring at them.

"You alright?" She whispered. "I saw you had a run in with Theodore."

(Y/N) nods their head. "I just want to get this party over with."

The rest of the party had gone alright thanks to Pansy, who managed to stay with them the whole time. They went the rest of the break without seeing Theodore, but unfortunately, the holidays ended and (Y/N) had to return to school and see him.

They'd did everything they can to avoid being around Theodore for longer than they have to, whether that was finding a different route to classes, sitting besides Pansy a few tables away from him (though this one wasn't really a change), or studying in their dorm rather than the library.

The only thing (Y/N) couldn't avoid was sitting away from him during lunch and dinner. Sure, they could beg Pansy to sit farther down the table, but the others would find it odd that the two were not sitting with them since they always ate together.

So (Y/N) just had to suck it up and remain civil. The good thing was that even when Theodore and (Y/N) were in good standing, they would always sit with Pansy so no one would find it weird. This whole thing was a struggle because even though (Y/N) was upset at Theodore and trying to avoid him, they could help but seek glances at Theodore. So did he.

(Y/N) had enough of being cooped up in their room, so they decided to study in the common room one night. There were a couple people scattered in the room, but most of the Slytherins were either in their dorms or snuck out to merlin knows where.

(Y/N) was looking at their Transfiguration book until a voice disrupts their focus.

"Hey. Do you mind if I sit here?"

It was Theodore Nott.

"There's plenty of space in the common room Nott," (Y/N) pointed out. "You can sit somewhere else."

"Well actually, I wanted to talk to you."

(Y/N) rolled their eyes before looking towards Theodore. "What's there to talk about?"

Theodore huffed before responding. "We need to talk about what happened before break. We didn't exactly left off on the right foot."

"Obviously."

(Y/N) felt a multitude of emotions hit them. They felt angry, upset, frustrated. They weren't even sure they wanted Theodore to address what happened. It would either end in two ways, they would move past it and stay together, or it would lead to the end of them.

But (Y/N) knew they couldn't avoid this any longer. They nodded towards the seat next to them.

"Sit." Theodore sat down.

"So," (Y/N) began. "Talk."

"Right. Well, I think you should know why I was talking to Daphne." Theodore starts. "Her parents and my father were talking about joining forces with the Dark Lord. And my father decided I was old enough to join them."

(Y/N) saw Theodore rub his left forearm, where the dark mark was usually placed. This news shocked them. (Y/N) knew that his father supported Voldemort and preached his ideals, but they never thought he would make Theodore become a death eater.

"Daphne found out what happened when she overheard my father and her father talking with each other. She confronted me about it so I admitted it. Wasn't worth trying to hide if she pretty much already knew about it. She's been trying to calm me down and help me not think about what happened."

There were a million different things going through (Y/N)'s head, yet the only thing that settled was why didn't he tell them? They could've help him too.

"Why didn't you tell me about it?" (Y/N) asked.

The boy sighed, not daring to meet their eyes. "I didn't want you to get involved in this."

"Theodore, I don't care," they exclaimed. "I want to help you. I would've listened to you and help you!"

"(Y/N) this is not your place-"

"I'm not a child anymore Theodore!" (Y/N) screamed. "I know what's going on, I'm not an idiot!"

"(Y/N), you have to listen to me! Your parents aren't involved with the Dark Lord this time around. If I told you and someone finds out, you could put you and your parents in danger."

(Y/N) huffed. "Oh, but Daphne gets to know?"

"Daphne is protected because of her parents and she found out herself. I did not tell her."

"Oh, but you continued to talk to her about it!"

Theodore was starting to get frustrated. "Who else was I supposed to talk to?"

"Me! Your partner? Or even Draco, his dad supports Voldemort, he'd probably understand how you felt."

Theodore's eyes widen a bit at the mention of Draco's name, but (Y/N) didn't notice.

"Look (Y/N)," Theodore slowly said. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about this. But you have to understand why I didn't tell you. I still care about you and this is something I didn't want you to get mixed in with, alright?"

(Y/N) sat there, calming themselves down. There was still one question that's been haunting them since the party.

"(Y/N)?"

"I just have one question for you." (Y/N) said, looking towards Theodore. The boy motioned for them to continue. "Did you ever feel anything for Daphne?"

There was a bit of hesitation in Theodore before he responded. "No."

(Y/N) looked at him oddly, noticing his hesitation.

"Theodore? Tell me the truth."

Theodore sighed before speaking. "I never lost feelings for you, but when I was talking Daphne, I felt different around her."

"W-what?" (Y/N) stuttered out. "Did you do anything?"

"No! I promise you I would never do anything with her." Theodore told them. "She's talking with Pucey anyways."

(Y/N) could feel the whirlpool of emotions coming back. Theodore confirmed one of the things they were hoping wasn't true. But he still liked them. But he's been hiding about him joining the Dark Lord. It was all too much to take in.

They leaned back against the chair with their arms crossed, staring into the dimly lit fire. "So, what do we do now?"

"What do you mean?" Theodore questioned them.

"About our relationship. What happens now?

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence penetrating the now empty room. The two of them not saying anything.

Another sigh emitted from Theodore before he stated his answer. "I think it's best if we take a break."

(Y/N) could feel their heart break at his answer. Their nightmare came true. They were losing him.

"There's a lot going on lately. With the war and Dark Lord rising it's going to be difficult to handle it all, especially with where I stand with him," Theodore said, motioning towards his left arm. "And I don't want to get you or your family involved in it."

"Yeah, y-you're right," (Y/N) choked out. "But we can still talk and be friends, right?"

"We can try."

(Y/N) nodded at his answer, trying not to let the tears welling up in their eyes escape. It seemed that Theodore had noticed it though, as he wrapped his arms in one last embrace.

"I love you, Theo."

There was a moment of silence before Theodore responded.

"I love you too."

The two sat there, (Y/N) quietly sobbing into Theodore's shoulder, not wanting to let go because that would be the last time they would be with him and would confirm their nightmare.

They lost Theodore.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #hp fanfic #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #theo nott imagine #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theodore nott

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redwineconversation · 1 year ago

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Selma Bacha Le Progres Interview (October 17, 2023)

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply; god I HATE invasive behavior so much it genuinely makes my skin crawl; @OL Comms Dept a PSL I beg of you; y'all know the speech by now. I don't want to commit to translating Le Progres articles on a regular basis but as is everything in life, that is subject to change.

In which the prodigal child returns from the cold, remembers Lyon's win/loss record against Barcelona, disses Lyon's men's team, and confesses love and admiration for WoSo's favorite Bad Catholic.

It was basically a fan Q&A and anyone with a Le Progres subscription will be able to find their names; however I took out the fans' names because I just don't feel comfortable outing private information like that. (See, it's that easy to be a decent human being and respect someone's privacy!!! Who would have thought!!!!)

SELMA BACHA LE PROGRES INTERVIEW

Selma Bacha: "My biggest strength is my instinct"

For one hour, the Olympique Lyonnais and French International left back talked with Le Progres readers with all the spontaneity and frankness we have come to expect from her. Without shying away from a single question. Her tenacious character, the difference in attendance for men's football compared to women's football, the support from her family, how she regards mental strength, her role models, her relationship with Wendie Renard... A Bacha with no filter!

[Fan]: Do you play any other sport apart from rugby?

I do a lot of boxing during preseason and when we're in preseason. It allows me to blow off steam. I also enjoy swimming, and because I'm such a competitor, I always have to swim against someone who swims professionally so I can improve and to improve my mental strength. I also go hiking even if I like it a little less. Ever since I was young, I really loved sports in general. In middle school, I did cross country. I wanted to do my middle school proud so I gave everything, and I finished third in the French Championship.

[Fan]: Did you play with the boys in the academy?

I started playing with the boys when I was five. I was recruited really quickly by Lyon when I was eight. But my parents got divorced at that time and I lived with my father and my brother, so I have certain male characteristics. But maybe that's what gave me my desire to win, the determination, how to be aggressive and not let anything go.

[Fan]: What would you say is the difference between men's football and women's football? The difference in attendance?

We do the same job, but female players don't bring in as much money as the men do. But we're seeing some progress, we see it with the French National Team where we often play in front of sold-out crowds. It's up to us to win over supporters, to make them proud and gain interest in us. I have a lot of confidence in that even if it's a little frustration to play the final of the Coupe de France or the Trophee des Championnes in front of a small crowd. That being said, then a game is at 9pm on a Sunday, I understand that's it is complicated for families.

[Fan]: Were you disappointed not to play the derby [against ASSE] at the Groupama Stadium?

I think I can speak for the team but we would prefer to play in front of a smaller crowd with a great atmosphere, which may have been lost if we played at the Groupama Stadium.

[Fan]: What is your best memory in the Champions League?

My first final in Kiev [Lyon beat Wolfsburg 4-1]. I wasn't even expecting to be on the team sheet and I went to the pregame meeting and I found myself starting at the age of 17. The atmosphere was incredible. Overseas, people are really interested in those types of events. Here in France, we're sleepwalking our way through it, even if after the [2019] World Cup a lot of people started to get more into women's football.

[Fan]: Other countries have overtaken women's football in France. What do you think about that?

It's not to put down our league because things were put in place and we were heard, so respect for that, but when there is a clash like Chelsea-Manchester City in England, it's hard to compete against. Discussions were had, I'm a bit young but Wendie Renard is taking part in them and things are starting to change. In July, professionalism was put in place, so it's moving forward. Slowly but surely.

[Fan]: What has been the most difficult thing in your career?

I integrated the professional group very quickly. I saw everything through rose tinted glasses at first. And when I was on the bench, I was asking the right questions of myself. I was talking with the physical fitness coach, the psychologist, the nutritionist, and I told myself I need to work twice as hard to achieve what I really wanted. I'm someone who is always very smiley and when I'm hurting, no one will know. I can internalize a lot but it will explode, I implode by myself and obviously, that's not good mentally. I have my parents, my team and my best friend, Alyssa Paljevic (former goalkeeper at Lyon), who is a shoulder to lean on. She doesn't judge me and she tells me if I'm wrong or not.

[Fan]: Are you properly supported in terms of mental health?

It depends on each individual. I often tell the youth to make sure to have a good support system. When I arrived at 16 [to the pro group], I wasn't paying a lot of attention to nutrition, to sleep, to recovery, the invisible part of training. I quickly understood you needed support and structure to achieve my objections, which are really high. When I go the [team] psychologist, it's because it helps me a lot mentally.

[Fan]: What qualities do you need to become professional?

Being good at football obviously. Beyond that, only hard work pays off. I give a lot of credit to the people working behind the scenes who put things in place for us. The invisible part of training is also really important. Beyond that, it comes down to having a lot of fun and confidence, you have to follow your instinct. Now it's my turn to ask if you want to be a professional football player? You'd like that? Right there, you can't say "I'd like to". You have to say "I want to" to send the right information to your brain and have confidence in yourself.

[Fan]: Have you stayed in contact with FC Gerland, the team you started with?

I'm the godmother of my former club which is still very dear to me. Last season, I was able to gift them jerseys thanks to my sponsor. Whenever I can go and give them advice, I do it without hesitation.

{Fan]: Do you play Fifa?

From what I'm told, apparently in the game, I'm expensive and a "cheat code"... Personally I don't really play, I prefer to relax.

[Fan]: Do you train in the morning and afternoon like the men's team?

Who told you the men's team train in the morning and afternoon? (laughter) We often have training in the morning, but sometimes we have double or even triple sessions when we come back from vacation. But yeah, we're like the men, we do the same job.

[Fan]: Do you interact with the men's team?

Yes, and besides that, once a year, during the gala for OL Foundation [Lyon charity], we're seated a table with investors and there's obviously a player from the men's team next to us. You might think they have big egos but when you get to know them, they're real softies. We see them in the cafeteria as well.

[Fan]: Was the transition post-Aulas easier for the women's team?

I don't know what's going on on their [men's team] end but from our end, Michele Kang came to see us, we had talks. We're not an easy team to handle but we're not complicated. (laughter)

[Fan]: Which players are your role model?

I'm a footballer but I don't watch a lot of football. The players who inspire, it's Karim Benzema and Cristiano Ronaldo, because they're hard workers.

[Fan]: Have you recovered from your ankle injury in Australia?

My ankle doesn't bother me anymore otherwise I wouldn't be on the field, especially because I have a long season ahead and therefore we won't want to take any risks. But it's true the sprain was no joke. I had 10 days to recover. It didn't hurt at all during the World Cup even if it was swollen. I'm not a cheat: if I'm not 100 percent it's not worth putting me on the field. So yeah, my ankle is a little unstable since, it'll roll sometimes, I'll be in pain for 30 seconds up to a minute, but that's normal. Let's just say I played my joker. At Lyon there is all the necessary medical staff, I'm in good hands.

[Fan]: Does it help you to play in your hometown?

There are advantages and disadvantages. The advantage is I was born here, all my family is here and I'm really close to my family so I have a lot of support, that really helps me. But sometimes, you just want to be alone and that's not always an option.

[Fan]: What is your relationship like with Wendie [Renard]?

Wendie, she took me immediately under her wing as soon as I integrated the pro group. She knows the love and admiration I have for her. She's in my heart, she's a big sister for me who I can always count on. Our friendship goes beyond football. When things were going badly and I thought about quitting football, she really helped me. I owe an enormous amount to her.

[Fan]: Do you think you will change clubs in the upcoming years?

That's a good question! (laughter) I'm under contract with Lyon until 2025. I have incredibly strong feelings for this club, I grew up with them. For the moment, I'm good here, I live it day by day and for the moment, I'm not imagining myself elsewhere.

[Fan]: You wouldn't want to go to Barcelona?

Why would I choose Barcelona? (laughter) I'm not afraid to test myself in a new league. Each year, in my room, I take a blank piece of paper and write down my objectives. Last season [2021-2022], I wasn't expecting to be be the youngest player in the Champions League, have the most assists, be nominated to the Ballon d'Or... I couldn't believe it. But when you play for the team and you put the team first, the individual stats will follow by themselves.

[Fan]: Do you practice a lot shooting from afar?

Let's just say it's instinct. I have a very strong left foot. The assistant coach for the French National Team teases me a lot about that: he tells me I have a more powerful shot than certain male players but I need to put them on target (laughter), so I know what I have to improve on. I'd say that above all else, my strength, it's my instinct. I always follow it: if I have to take a shot, I'll shoot, if I have to get my teammate to score, I'll do it. I don't think just about me. I'd rather have an assist than score, even if scoring, it's a really special feeling.

[Fan]: Which team has the best style of play in your eyes?

Olympique Lyonnais (laughter). Otherwise I'd say Barcelona, because I am a player who likes ball possession and at the top level, the Spanish players are the best. I like to watch Barcelona.

[Fan]: Who was the best team you played against?

That's a good question. I'd say Chelsea and Barcelona.

[Fan]: And the best player according to you?

There are a lot. At the moment, I'd say Eugenie Le Sommer. Aitana Bonmati (Barcelona) as well, she's really good.

[Fan]: Do you chip in training?

Ball control, nutmeg, shooting, yes. But not really chips.

[Fan]: What is it like being an undisputed starter with the French National Team?

It's an honor! My team knows how much I struggled and all the tears I shed. Compared to other players, I integrated it a little later but I never gave up. There were nights when I was crying at home and I was thinking: "what am I missing?" And one day, when Lyon was at Issy-les-Moulineaux, I learnt that I would be called up because Sakina Karchaoui was injured. At first I couldn't believe it and I was even afraid the coach was pranking me. I screamed really loudly in the bus, everyone was really happy for me. Being at Clairefontaine, seeing the castle, it was a childhood dream. I'll never forget my first game against Kazakhstan, especially because I was a starter. And then I scored in my second game against Wales! I couldn't dream it any better. Now, my status has changed, but I'm not going to get a big head over it. I stay smiley, likable and I never forget where I came from. I want to keep my feet on the ground because it can all change so quickly.

{Fan]: How did you handle coming back from the World Cup?

That night, obviously I didn't sleep. But despite my missed penalty, I told myself that I gave everything and shouldn't have any regrets. Especially because I came into the tournament with an injury and had 10 days to recover from a big sprain. Afterwards? There was a long flight with a lot of sadness and frustration. I landed mid-morning in Lyon, I went to see my family and that afternoon, I went to Montpellier and then the next day to Marrakech. I turned my phone off and no one knew where I was. I needed a lot of time before I could talk about the World Cup.

[Fan]: What was missing for this World Cup?

Efficiency of course. We weren't able to impose our style of play and we were subjected to Australia's. Maybe we lacked a bit of bite as well. Ellie Carpenter, my Australian teammate, when she has one touch of the ball, she moves up 10 meters. When you foul a Brazilian player, they form a group around the referee to put pressure on her. When we had a team meeting about it, Kenza Dali actually called me out by name and said we needed to be more like me, aggressive. Of course you need to respect the referee and not waste energy for no reason when she has already made her decision, but in the quarterfinal of the World Cup, I think we can go talk to the ref. And not just in football. Look at rugby!

#all good love stories start in the rain #selma bacha #the prodigal child who came in from the cold

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script-nef · 4 years ago

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Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother.

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not.

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him.

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan.

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often.

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter.

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice.

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths.

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?”

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him.

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest.

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor.

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

#gojou x reader #gojou imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru imagine #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojou #gojou satoru #fluff #series #female reader

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thompsonstessa-moved · 3 years ago

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Måneskin interview for TVN24 - english translation

Few days ago an interview (on video) with Måneskin came out in Poland on TVN24 channel, sadly its paywalled on their site (and the tv only showed a bit).

However, I got a transcript of it and decided to translate it for you guys :D

Also, while the interview took place in Poland (day before the Sopot festival), the interviewer knew italian, so they talked in italian and the TV translated it to polish (and dubbed them!!! :( ). So I hope theres nothing that like, got lost in translation twice.

Also its 2am now so the translation might not be the most perfect, but you'll definitely get the gist of what they were saying!!

The whole thing is under the 'keep reading' :)

First of all – congratulations on the San Remo and Eurovision wins! I just want you to know how happy you made my mom – she listens to your music for 3 years now. How are you feeling today?

D: We feel good, tho we’re tired as well. We travel a lot, but we’re happy. We meet new fans, new opportunities are coming up. It’s really nice.

How did you guys meet? When looking at you, you have this sense of unity and just good vibes. How did it all start?

D: We know each other for a long time.

V: Yeah, Since middle school. Me, Thomas and Damiano were playing in different bands, but they weren’t the best. Thet all disbanded. Then we posted in a facebook group ’looking for a musician in rome’ and found Ethan. Since then we started doing music for real. We devoted ourselves to the music, and… the rest just came naturally.

E: Yes. We knew it’s gonna be our life since day one.

What did you say In the post, when looking for the fourth member of the band?

V: I wrote ”looking for a drummer for an indie rock/new wave band”.

E: That’s true, there was new wave in it too.

I’m sure a lot of people replied.

V: No, actually only Ethan replied. But we found that post lately and now it’s full of comments like „why didn’t i reply back then!”

T: Ethan was really lucky.

What did your parents thought about your choice (to pursue music)? A rockstar lifestyle isn’t exactly what every parent wants for their child.

D: No, our parents are really content with it. They know what we do makes us happy, and of course we visit them whenever we can. And they are proud of us as well, because they see we’re happy and independent, travelling all over the Europe, and hopefully all over the world. I think every parent wants their kid to be satisfied and happy.

And friends? Are you still friends with the same people, or did the friendships fell apart?

D: We still have the same friends. And we’re sure that way that they are our real friends.

Do they understand your current lifestyle, that you can dissapear for a year?

V: Yeah, they all understand that this is our job, that our life is a bit irregular, but, like everything, it has its ups and downs.

E: Exactly, they understand, but they also miss us. Sometimes my mom calls and says ”I miss you, you’ve been gone for so long”. It’s normal. But what’s important is that we feel the support from our families and friends. They understand that you need to sacrifice a lot, to achieve a lot.

Can you still easily go ands grab a beer in the Rome neighbourhoods (districts?) of Pigneto or Trastevere? Or is it impossible now?

V: The only truly safe place for us is Trastevere, because we always lived there. Everyone there knows us and they don’t care we’re famous.

D: But I have to admit that since they whole Eurovision thing we still didn’t come back, so it’s hard to say for sure.

T: But let’s say that its a safe space.

Don’t you worry that now that whole world knows you, you’ll be followed by tourists?

V: Oh my god, you’re right, we didn’t think about it!

D: When we came back to Rome for one day I got excited when one tourist stopped me. ”Cool, I got stopped by a tourist” – now it’s normal.

T: It gives us joy.

V: It’s beautiful.

E: Wonderful.

V: We’re not complaining.

D: Long live the tourists!! (that one was kinda weird to translate)

You started by playing on Via Del Corso, now you’re international stars. I’m wondering, do you still feel the same when playing together as before? Do you have fun making music together? Or do you miss the simpler times and would love to go back to Via del Corso and play something spontaneously?

V: No, we’re still spontaneus. It’s really important for us, and we make sure people who work with us understand that. We’re really adamant about it. Music needs to remain beautiful, spontaneus and natural thing for us. We never worked with someone who would write lyrics for us. No one ever told us what we can and cannot do. We still feel the exact same feelings in studio and on stage that we felt when we were just getting started. It’s the purest thing for us. We want to have fun and feel free to express ourselves.

T: Exactly, especially that music is our driving force. Without music, we wouldn't have all the beautiful things we do. We focus only on music, and the rest comes to us.

Let’s imagine a situation where you just started ma king a song, and everyone has a different idea for it. How do you work that out? And who’s idea wins most of the time?

V: There are two options in this situation: we try every idea, and if none works, we throw the song away.

E: It doesn’t work. (that one is kinda untranslateable?)

V: Or we really work on it and fight till the end.

D: Exactly. Sometimes, but that pretty rare, one of us has a particular idea on how to do the song, and manages to convince us (to the idea). but it’s not an order, it’s a dialogue. An attempt to make everyone think the same way. I need to say that it was much harder in the past, because we were still searching for our sound, and each tried to push the rest into their way of thinking. But now we’re more aware of what we want to create, so it’s coming out in much more natural way.

E: Faster.

D: Not really faster, because it takes a lot of time to create new songs, but it’s easier, we don’t argue that much anymore.

T: It’s really cool, because everyone gives something from themselves to the song. (my brain kinda blanked here, sorry xD) Just like Damiano said, there are days when Vic has one idea for a song, I have another idea, Damiano has his own idea, Ethan as well… But it’s a whole creative process where we all contribute, and it’s pretty stimulating.

D: Everyone feels appreciated. It’s really important when it’s four of us.

What are the biggest signs that you became huge international stars?

V: We really realize that when we’re having concerts. Where we can see our audience and we can see that people really care about us. That they took time and money to listen to us. Now that we’re travelling across Europe, the amount of people stopping us on the streets really shows how many people know about us. People are waiting for us in front of our hotels. We didn’t think it would be like that. But we feel nothing but affection and warmth from them.

How was Eurovision for you from the backstage? Anything atypical?

D: No, it was all great. We played ping-pong.

V: Did rehearsals.

E: Interviews.

D: Yes, interviews. And ping-pong.

When you we’re in Paris, did anyone mention the drug allegations that came from French people during the finale, that kinda became a diplomatic incident?

D: Yeah, you could say that it was mentioned.

They don’t resent you? Or maybe you resent France?

D: No. To feel that about the whole country would be too much of a generalization. Of course there were people who were really vocal about it, but we don’t feel any sort of resentment. It’s in the past for us. We knew they were just primitive accusations. We did what it deserved – talked a bit about it, I volunteered to do the test, and they (the accusators) were sure it had to be false. It got ridiculous, so we just stopped talking about it. We want to talk about out music, our art. The rest is just meaningless.

Right now, LGBTQ rights are a hot topic both in Italy and in Poland. You mentioned freedom of being different and being yourself on several occasions. Do you think you can change the world on this matter as musicians?

D: Maybe not change the world, but we can definitely contribute. Speak the voice of those who can’t. We have a huge following on social media, on stage, on TV, so we feel responsibility to talk about what’s important to us. We hope that something will change because of us, but we don’t consider ourselves as the ones to set the standards of justice and change. We do what we can do, and if we know enough about it, we talk about it. We don’t want to put someone elses words into ours mouths.

#maneskin #måneskin #damiano david #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #thomas raggi #maneskin interview #måneskin interview #*mine

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jmnjmnjmn · 4 years ago

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Your Noona | Requested Idol!JK x NonIdol/Noona!Reader | Fluffy Oneshot

Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x NonIdol/Noona!Reader

Sides: ChildhoodFriend!Taehyung, Friends!BTS

Keywords: noona, age gap, secret crush, f2l

Warnings: swearing

Word count: around 5,500

There is mention of a house warming party. In Korea it is somewhat traditional to bring over toilet paper and cleaning supplies when going to such gathering, so please don’t be surprised when YN talks about the stacks of tp in her apartment xd

Request

Inspo board

Masterlist

Noona

Noona is a word used by Korean males to address females older than them who they are close to (biological or not).

With her leather handbag full of gifts and trinkets from France weighing on her shoulder, YN pressed the elevator button. She waited in front of the heavy steel door, staring at the bright red light-up sign above it.

“10, 9, 8.” She counted in her head as the numbers went down signalling the coming of the elevator. “7, 6, 5.” She sighed, unable to brush off the tiredness caused by the jetlag. “4, 3, 2, 1.” The door slid open with a quiet bell sound. YN hesitated before pressing in the correct number. “Was it 6th or 7th?” She whispered to herself, cursing at her forgetfulness. She ended up pressing both numbers.

Looking into the mirrored back wall of the elevator she checked herself out, making sure there were no imperfections in her outfit, hair, or makeup. Her camel-coloured coat reached right to her knees, leaving just the right amount of leg out to look cute, but not feel too cold in the winter’s cold weather. She unbuttoned the outer garment to take a look at the light brown mini skirt and blazer combo she wore today. Paired with an ecru blouse, nude tights, and white leather sneakers she looked rather casual than smart.

A robotic female voice announced the elevator’s arrival on the sixth floor of the building. YN looked out the door, unsure if that was where her best friend had his studio. She stepped out onto the somewhat familiar corridor, looking around for anyone to ask for directions. She walked down the long hallway, white lights above her head, unmarked doors to either side of her, unrecognizable chatter behind most of them.

“Where are you Kim Taaehyung?” She muttered under her breath, simultaneously reaching into the pocket of her coat to fish out her cellphone. “Tae-hyung-ie.” She syllabized while typing in her best friend’s name into her contacts. She raised the device to her ear right after starting the call. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.” She whispered quickly, hoping she didn’t drive out here for no reason. The static beeping noise was abruptly broken and replaced with the familiar low voice of a boy she knew since kindergarten.

“YN noona?” Taehyung asked and his surprised tone echoed through both of YN’s ears. She looked around, taken aback by the weird stereo effect she was experiencing. She turned to look behind her and saw one of the doors she passed by opening.

“Taehyung-ie, are you at your studio?” She asked, skipping over any greetings.

“Y- yes, why?” He answered her with another question. He wasn’t expecting her call and had to excuse himself from dance practice to pick up.

“Taehyung-ie!” YN exclaimed, seeing him walk out from behind the opening door and onto the bland corridor.

“Noona?!” Taehyung yelled into the phone making her wince at the incredible volume of his voice. “Oh my god!” He discarded his phone into the back pocket of his jeans before running up to and engulfing her in a suffocating hug. “YN noona!”

“Ah, seriously?” YN gasped out the bits of air that he didn’t manage to squeeze out of her lungs with his strong embrace. “Let go of me.” She groaned, pushing him away playfully. He had the sweetest boxy smile on his face and her expression wasn’t too far off of his.

“When did you come back?” He ran his hand through his black hair. It was still slightly curly with remains of the perm he got a couple of weeks back.

“Last night, you crazy person.” She chuckled, punching his arm and he squirmed jokingly.

“Ah, noona.” He sighed, his eyes dreamy with all the happiness he was experiencing at this moment. Spontaneously he threw his arm around her shoulders, bringing her into a side hug. “I missed you.” YN felt her heart growing warmer with every second.

“I missed you too, Taehyung.” She admitted without hesitation earning a giggle from her friend.

“Why are you here?” He asked after a moment, realizing she should be thousands of kilometres away, working in her company’s European branch. “I mean- I thought you weren’t coming back until next Chuseok.” He corrected himself not to sound rude.

“Yeah, well I got bored of Paris.” She shrugged, unconvincingly since there was a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

“Bored? Of Paris? You?” He cocked his eyebrow at her, knowing she’s withholding some juicy piece of information from him.

“I just missed Korea too much to stay away for any longer.” She looked up at him with that same grin.

“Yeah, right.” He scoffed.

“And…” She elongated the word as she slipped from under his arm and stopped to stand face to face with him. “I got a promotion!” She finally exclaimed, grabbing his hands in hers.

“Congratulations!” He screamed out, matching her excited pitch.

“Thank you!” They jumped up and down, tugging on each other’s hands for a moment longer before Taehyung stopped to ask an obvious question.

“So who are you now?” YN smiled, happy to hear him ask about her new position.

“Say ‘hello’ to Y/Company’s/N’s youngest C.A.O..” She said in a jokingly seductive tone, smiling brightly.

“What is that?” Taehyung scrunched his eyebrows in a frown. YN exhaled a chuckle at his lack of knowledge about company titles.

“God, it’s- it’s Chief Administrative Officer.” She explained but seeing his expression stay the same as it was she decided to go deeper into the description of the post. “It means I’m a top-tier executive who supervises daily operations of the company and I’m also responsible for its overall performance.”

“That’s good.” He nodded unsure if it was good.

“Hell yeah, it is!” YN laughed, wrapping her arm around his shoulders with some struggle since he was now taller than she was.

“Does that mean you’re moving back to Korea?” He looked at her with hope, but she didn’t notice as her gaze was directed forward.

“Yeah, at least for a couple of years.” Taehyung shoved her arm off of himself in shock.

“A couple of- that’s great, YN!” He pushed his chest against her face when he suddenly hugged her tightly. “I’m so happy for you!” He screamed, rocking them both side to side.

“Thank you!” She snaked her arms around his waist before pushing away. She was usually the one breaking hugs and ending sad goodbye’s because if it was up to Taehyung she would never leave his side. “I’m also so very happy, but still, a little bummed I had to leave my Parisian life behind.” She whined slightly, looking down onto her fumbling hands.

“Ah, but now you’ll start your Seoul life again.” Taehyung spoke in a tone of a visionary. He put his arm behind her back and used the other to drag over the imaginary horizon. “With me by your side, it won’t be that bad.” He added quickly.

“Won’t be bad at all.” She chuckled, putting an elbow to his side.

“That’s what I like to hear!” He laughed out. “So, when are you buying me dinner?” YN scoffed at his forwardness. Sometimes he just loved to take advantage of their month-long age gap.

“Who do you think-” She was getting ready to teasingly scold him, but interrupted her with a loud call.

“Jungkook-ie!” He exclaimed, looking to the door he earlier exited. “Look who’s here to buy us dinner.”

“You little- wait, that’s-”

YN barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping at the sight of the boy she last saw about a year ago - face to face at least. She saw all the boys of BTS all the time during her Skype calls with Taehyung, they’d often drop by to chat or whatnot, Jungkook included, but seeing him in real life… Was an experience, to say the least. He was fit, there was no way around it. Well dressed. With a handsome face and a good haircut. YN sighed as she was reminded of her small crush on the boy.

To add gasoline to the flame Jungkook had a similar experience seeing YN, standing under his hyung’s arm in the middle of the sixth floor’s corridor looking so… Breathtaking. Ever since he realized he had a crush on her he… He merely couldn’t find any other way to describe her. She changed so much in the passing years, evolved, grew into herself. He wasn’t expecting to see her and if she paid him enough mind she would notice how shocked and flustered he was. However, preoccupied with the excitement of seeing her best friend again and the time pressure of having to go meet her realtor in just a short while she didn’t. Jungkook inhaled sharply in an attempt to calm himself down and stop the racing of thoughts in his head.

“YN noona!” He exclaimed with excitement and shock lining his voice. “When did you-”

“Last night.” Taehyung interrupted him, dragging YN under his arm to walk closer to the other boy.

“And for how-”

“For good!” He interrupted him again and Jungkook’s eyes widened at the prospect of seeing YN more often because if she was going to stay in Seoul she was most definitely going to hang out with Taehyung and if she hung out with him he could tag along and stare at her all he wanted, admiring her beauty, getting lost in the sweet sound of her voice, the smell of her-

“Hey, that’s not decided.” YN replied, poking her best friend in the side and removing Jungkook out of his daydream.

“For a couple of years at least.” Taehyung explained by quoting her earlier words.

“That’s great.” He smiled at her as they stood right by each other now. “It’s so nice to see you again. You look healthy.” She smiled at his kindhearted comment, not paying it much mind while he cursed himself out in his head for not saying something more personal or meaningful.

“So, noona what are we eating?” Taehyung asked, rubbing her shoulder.

“Nothing, Taehyung!” She scolded him, instantly jumping from under his heavy arm. “I only came by to say ‘hello’ and give you…” She reached into her purse and pulled out a big paper bag. “This.” As soon as she showed them the packageTaehyung’s hands were already on it, discarding the bag and opening the box hidden inside.

“Yes!” He hummed, looking inside to see a bunch of miniature croissants with different toppings and fillings, ones YN always raved about and promised to bring over whenever she was going to visit.

“I hope you like them as much as I do.” She said smiling at the content in his eyes. As much as she hated having to pay for his meals when they ate together she also loved seeing him get excited over certain dishes and simply eat. “Just don’t eat them all in one sitting.” She cautioned him already imagining the stomach ache he would have to endure if he did that. “And leave some for your friends.” She added gesturing to Jungkook’s hungry stare.

“I won’t, noona.” He assured her quickly and closed the box.

“I have an apartment viewing in about…” She glanced at her wristwatch and noticing how late it was already she sighed slightly. “Ten minutes. I’ll buy you dinner next time.” Taehyung pouted sweetly at the sound of her words even though he knew there was no way for him to get out of the studio right now.

“You’ll have to invite us over to your new place, noona.” YN smiled warmly at Jungkook who finally spoke up again. He smiled brightly at her, showing his bunny-like teeth she adored.

“Ah, I work a lot.” She breathed out, imagining how would be hosting the entirety of BTS in a tiny studio apartment because there was no way she could afford anything more if she wanted to live close to her work in Gangnam-gu. At least not yet. “I don’t know if my schedule will allow me to do that.”

“Is that your excuse to get out of treating us?” Taehyung teased her, pulling on the sleeve of her woollen coat.

“How did you know?” She shot right back with a cheeky smirk that quickly turned into a loving smile. “Keep reminding me.” YN wrapped her arm around his back to pat it caringly. “Hopefully soon our plans will align and then I will buy both of you whatever you want.” Both boys smiled with hope glistening in their eyes at her promise.

“Coming!” Jungkook heard YN’s muffled voice right after he pressed on the bell. He swallowed loudly and within seconds she opened the door. Dressed in more of a laid back outfit than he was used to seeing her in - a simple t-shirt, a pair of high waisted beige pants and thinly rimmed silver glasses - she still managed to both knock the wind out of his chest and make him feel underdressed. “Hi! Oh-” Her happy expression faded into a slightly confused one. “I thought you would come over together.” She stepped to the side to let him walk past her and inside the apartment.

“Ah, didn’t Hyung tell you?” He asked, slipping his black boots off as she locked the door behind him. “He had to stay late for dance practice. He said to order without him.”

“No, Taehyung called me already.” Jungkook barely stopped himself from grinning. Taehyung’s last-minute call to YN was part of a much bigger plan. “I meant Jimin Oppa.” She clarified, leaving her keys in the lock. “I thought he would come with you.” Jungkook scrunched his eyebrows, hoping his acting skills were good enough to make his performance believable to her.

“I meant Jimin Hyung too.” He slipped off his jacket and she took it to place it on a hidden hanger in a closet behind her. “He’s still at the studio. I didn’t see Taehyunf-ie Hyung there.” He added.

“Oh. Weird. ” YN frowned in confusion. “None of them said anything in the group chat or anything. I mean Taehyung called me, but-”

“Ah, Jimin must have just forgotten.” He shrugged, playing it off. “You know how he is.”

“I guess.” She nodded before turning to face him. In the thin hallway of her apartment there couldn’t be more than forty centimetres of space between them - an amount that to Jungkook seemed like an unswimmable ocean at this moment.

“So it’s just the two of us until they decide they’ve had enough dancing for the night.” He smiled, feeling the blush creeping up onto his ears and slowly making its way onto his cheeks.

“If they decide that.” She giggled only making him feel warmer in the face.

“So, noona, will you show me around?” He asked in hopes of taking her piercing gaze off him so she didn’t notice his nervous state.

“Yes, of course.” She exclaimed, excited all of a sudden. “So where we are now is my tiny genkan.” She gestured to the small space they stood in - a lowered, tiled area, a little smaller than a square meter. “Here is my wall of closets.” She tapped on the white doors behind her, hiding tons of storage much needed in an apartment as small as this one. “Here is my tiny bathroom.” She walked to the door next to him, switching on the lights to reveal a modern bathroom - something hard to come by in buildings that weren’t newbuilds. “Please don’t mind the toilet paper stacks, I’ve had friends come over for a housewarming party last weekend.” She chuckled, pointing to the surprising amount of toilet paper stacked under the shower. From the bathroom she led him to the main space of the flat. “Here is my kitchen-living-dining-office-room combo.” The room wasn’t big, but it somehow still managed to fit a kitchenette, bar and coffee table, some shelves, and a decently sized couch. “In that nook over there is my bed, you can’t really call that a bedroom, but it’s fine and here- here is my favourite part of this whole place.” YN almost skipped to the large sliding door on the back wall of the apartment. She pulled on it and gestured for him to take a peek inside. “The sunroom!” She exclaimed happily. “It’s dark now, but believe me in the mornings it’s just breathtaking.” Jungkook smiled at the sound of the word.

“Yeah, I bet.” He murmured, glancing over the small rectangular space constructed of mostly windows where YN put up some plants and a tiny table with chairs.

“What do you think?” She asked leaning on the door frame, dangerously close to him.

Truth be told her apartment was everything he expected it to be. Small, but not cramped. Neatly decorated and clean, but not entirely perfect. It didn’t give off a vibe of being creepily overplanned as if taken out of an IKEA booklet. It felt warm and homey, but most importantly it smelled of her which he simply adored.

“It’s nice.” He smiled, looking down at her. “Cozy. It suits you.” She batted her eyelashes, playing shy.

“Thanks.” She muttered before looking straight at him again. “You hungry already?”

“Starving.” Jungkook breathed out with a slight chuckle, letting the tension in his body loose.

“Let’s order then.” She chirped, reaching for her phone to scour the apps for something tasty.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, staying focused on YN’s throat while she downed almost the entirety of her glass. The two of them sat on the carpet-covered floor of her apartment, back resting against her sofa, soft music playing from a Bluetooth speaker in the background, boxes of chicken and fries on the coffee table.

“Drink slower or you’ll get in trouble.” He chuckled, licking his fingers clean from the chicken he just ate.

“This is my first beer.” She shot back, almost choking on the last sip of the fizzy beverage.

“You don’t want it to be the last.” He said in a jokingly warning tone earning an overdramatic eye roll from the girl. “Drinking fast makes you get drunk faster. It was scientifically proven that-”

“Ah, let me do what I want.” She interrupted him, laughing through her words. “If you weren’t Taehyung’s friend I would kick you out already.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” He smirked, hoping for his words to ring true and with the way she smiled at him he was almost certain they would. “Something came to my mind on my way here.” YN leaned her head against her bent leg and hummed, signalizing for him to go on. “Knowing your future is the shittiest feeling of all.”

“Yeah?” She looked up at him curiously, resting her chin on her knee now to see him better. “What’s your shitty fortune then?” Jungkook sighed, letting his head fall back onto the soft cushions of the couch behind him.

“I’ll live my life the way I am expected to.” He murmured. “I’ll show up where I’m needed. I’ll sing when people want to hear it. Dance when they want to see it.” His words carried an unimaginable weight with them. A weight YN imagined would break any other man, but not him. “I’ll get married in my late thirties or early forties, because ‘what even is an idol that’s not single?’.” He chuckled sadly. “And after all that I’ll fade away and- what?” He stopped his reasoning as the sudden sound of her muffled scoff.

“You won’t fade away.” She shook her head and straightened up. Hearing Jungkook say all of that made her heart ache. “You’re too good for that.” She patted his shoulder firmly. “Too cool.”

“You think I’m cool?” He muttered out the question so quietly it got drowned out by YN’s next argument.

“Also you have to create your fate.” She said in a stern tone that Jungkook couldn’t possibly take seriously after hearing her call him cool. “I think I heard that in one of your guys’ songs.”

“Am I cool to you?” He repeated himself.

“Don’t interrupt me.” She scolded him, taking advantage of their age gap. “You can change your life depending on what you do, Jungkook-ah.” She looked into his deep brown eyes and seeing an unfamiliar shine in the otherwise perfect irises she decided to add one more comment to her speech. “Just don’t do anything too reckless.” She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second. “I would hate to watch you getting hurt.”

Jungkook smiled at her, sincerely, with all his heart. Her words gave him hope and courage. He breathed in sharply, showing off his bunny-like teeth in a wide smile.

“All the girls I dated- ah, it sounds like I dated a lot of girls.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “All those girls, those moments…” He continued despite knowing she must be a little taken aback by the change in topics. The two of them never talked about their romantic lives with each other for which he was grateful because if he heard of even one boy that wasn’t him hitting on YN he was sure he’d implode. “I thought that was what love feels, but in reality, it might not have been love at all.” YN frowned sadly, her eyes still on his, getting lost in their beauty. “Not true love at least.”

“What even is true love?” She scoffed, breaking eye contact. If she was going to say what she thought of just seconds ago she couldn’t be looking at him. “I’ve never been in love.” She confessed without much hesitation now that she averted her gaze.

“Never?” She simply hummed out an agreement while looking at her feet on the fuzzy rug. “I have. Actually, I still am.” YN smiled, but her gaze remained down.

“Lucky you.” Jungkook traced her movements with caution, not wanting to say too much or too little. This moment was important and he wasn’t going to mess it up.

“Yeah. There might be some luck in my situation.” He was being vague and she easily read it in his voice that he wanted her to ask him more. As new as this situation was - since she never talked to Jungkook about this kind of stuff - it also felt almost natural.

“Are you together?” He stayed silent so she decided upon explaining her question further. “With the girl that you’re in love with.”

“Ah.” He exhaled weakly, leaning his head on the couch again, but keeping his eyes on her. “Not entirely.” YN looked at his blonde hair scattered on the grey cushioning of the sofa. Later her stare travelled to his forehead, his strong eyebrows and then his deep brown eyes that contrasted so perfectly with the lightness of his hair.

“How so?” The corner of his lips tugged upwards as she took the bait he was trying to give her.

“Well, we’re not dating-” His eyelids fell slightly as his gaze went to her lips and then opened back up as it came to her eyes again. “- but we are in the same room.” YN exhaled a slight chuckle and smiled at him sweetly.

“You are a lot smoother than the last time we talked.” She admitted, still hugging onto the leg she had up to her chest. She felt oddly comfortable with his corny confession, taking it as a weak joke of some sort.

“Smooth enough to get you to agree to go on a date with me?” He asked, staying in the same relaxed position. YN shook her head slightly, looking down once more, releasing it might have not been kidding.

“I’m your noona.” She muttered under her breath. Jungkook shifted from his previous spot and shuffled to sit closer to her. At this point YN was sure he wasn’t kidding though she kind of wished for him to be.

“By less than two years.” He said sternly, sitting right in front of her, scanning her face up and down while she didn’t dare to even glance at him.

“Still, it’s-”

“It’s what?” He interrupted her at which she lifted her face, making their eyes meet. The glimmer she noticed said it all.

“Inappropriate.” She seeped through gritted teeth. YN never thought the boy could see her as anything more than his senior, his noona, his bandmates childhood best friend who bought him dinner whenever she came over.

“Pft.” Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Says who?” He asked, cocking his eyebrow.

“Everyone, Jungkook.” She declared and raised her finger at him right as he opened his mouth. “And don’t say ‘fuck everyone’!” He shook his head before coming up with a different comeback.

“So stop making excuses and face your feelings.” This time it was her that scoffed.

“Who says I have any feelings for you?” Jungkook felt his stomach turn. He considered getting rejected, but coming face to face with it he wasn’t prepared to take that blow.

“M- my gut.” He stuttered.

“Your gut?” She shot him a patronizing stare. Seeing that look in her eyes angered him and anger gave him a rush of courage he needed.

“Yes. Stop repeating my words.”

“Stop disrespecting your noona.”

“Stop taking advantage of our age gap.” YN sighed breaking the staring contest and brought her other leg up as if to shield herself from him. “If we were in Paris or Madrid or anywhere else you lived while you were working in Europe you wouldn’t think twice about it and you know it. If the roles were reversed and I was older it wouldn’t be a problem either.” He spoke from his heart and she knew he was right. “Why is it suddenly so important when you’re in Korea?” She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to stop herself from blowing up on the poor boy. He wasn’t the one to blame for the norms generally applicable in Korea when it came to dating.

“Because of societal rules.” She uttered out quietly. Feeling the pain in her voice made Jungkook want to be close to her, wrap his arms around her and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, but he didn’t want to cross any lines so he opted for just shifting closer to her. Close enough so the sides of his thighs touched her curled up legs.

“It’s two years.” He whispered, twirling a piece of her hair between his fingers. “Barely two years.”

“To you.” YN murmured, faced away from him.

“And to you?” Her shoulders rose and fell down abruptly as she sighed deeply.

“Stop it.”

“My mom is older than my dad.” He started slowly, now stroking her arm. “By two years too.”

“Is she?” He smiled at the hopeful change in her tone.

“Yeah.” He purred. “And to make it even less socially acceptable she was the one that hit on my dad, not the other way around.” YN chuckled, sending a shiver of excitement down his back.

“So that’s where you get your determination from.” Jungkook hummed in agreement.

“You bet.” YN straightened up, pushing his hand away. With great struggle, she managed to look him in the eyes again.

“Jungkook-ah, I-”

“YN Noona, I like you. A lot.” He interrupted her as soon as their stares met. “And your age was never a factor in me coming to those feelings.”

She stayed silent for a moment after he said that, keeping eye contact and after that short while Jungkook saw her legs drop down as she came into a kneel. Her soft palms made contact with the warmth of his cheeks bringing his lips to her own. His hands instantly travelled to her waist, guiding her to sit in his lap, her legs draped to the side. She teased him by biting on his lower lip lightly, asking for him to open his mouth to her and he did, allowing her tongue to dance alongside his as if they kissed like this a million times before.

“How am I going to tell Taehyung about this?” YN asked after breaking the kiss. Her fingers were tangled in his hair, his hands caressed the bare skin of her back under her t-shirt.

“He already knows.” Jungkook smiled against her lips as he leaned forward to plant a wet peck on them.

“What?” YN looked at him wide eyed and he smiled brighter. Her gaze fell down to the space between their chests as she felt a hint of pinkish lush blossom on her cheeks.

“Did you really think both him and Jimin had to bail last minute, leaving me and you all alone?” Jungkook grazed his nose over hers in an attempt to get her to look back at him again, but it didn’t work. “I told Hyung I was going to confess to you this morning.” Her eyelashes fluttered slowly and he was able to look into her shining eyes once again. “He came up with this plan and even cheered me on.”

“Really?” YN asked in disbelief, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting them upon his shoulders. He liked it, the weight of her body on him, it made him feel strong and needed.

“Yeah, I told him that I liked you a long time ago.” He noticed the questioning raise of her eyebrows, but kept talking as if he didn’t. “Ever since then he’s been teasing me about it, but when I spoke to him this morning he was so serious.” Jungkook rolled his head back exhaling a small laugh at the memory of the conversation he had with Taehyung earlier in the day. The small movement exposed the skin of his neck to YN and her eyes naturally travelled to the surface she never before paid much attention to, but now wanted to shower with not only kisses. “He even gave me a speech about how I can’t ever be mean to you and ruin your guys’ friendship and that I should treat you right-”

“And will you?” She tugged on his shoulders lightly, but he was faster in his reaction. He straightened up and rested his forehead against hers.

“Are you kidding me? Of course.” He spoke in a low, calm voice. “So?”

“So what?” YN smiled, running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head - a motion he already grew to love.

“Are we like a thing now?” He grinned without hiding his excitement. Jungkook wanted them to be ‘a thing’, something, anything, as long as it was him and her.

“Take me out first and then I’ll make up my mind.” She joked, keeping the same smile on her lips. Jungkook leaned forward, pulling her hips closer as their mouth crashed in a quick yet passionate kiss.

“What are we waiting for then?” He smirked into the kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” She asked, pushing his chest away so she could see him whole and make sure he wasn’t joking.

“It’s still early.” He shrugged, bringing his hands to her upper back. “We can fit in a romantic walk by the river and I’ll treat you to a ridiculously expensive dessert after.” YN chuckled at his simple proposition. It seemed so heartfelt, so tempting. She let her hands travel mindlessly from his hair to his shoulders, then neck, jaw. She pulled him in to leave a sweet peck on his hungry lips.

“Lead the way.”

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

Note

Speaking of AUs and plots, OC damages someones car by accident and instead of money they want to be paid back in dates.

Anonymous said: For the request: “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse.”

↳ Auto Date Claim

2.3k || 100% Light Fluff || Kim Seokjin

Seokjin grips the steering wheel.

He blows through the yellow light even though he should’ve stopped but there’s no time to waste, not when the last thing he wants is to be late for the meeting. Everything has to be perfect.

Which is what makes this phone call the worst.

“I’m not coming.”

“What?!” Jin looks to the display screen where there’s Jisoo’s name as if he can telepathically send her his exasperated expression. “Why not?!”

“You know why. I don’t want to be a doll that’s supposed to sit there silently, Seokjin. I’m done.”

“No. Please. You know how important this meeting is to me. You can’t be doing this—”

“Oh, yes I can.”

She hangs up. Seokjin groans, the urge to slam his forehead against the steering wheel overwhelming. But he resists and when he gets to the next red light, he frantically calls Yoongi.

The dial tone rings over his car speakers and then the man picks up. Yoongi is calm by nature and there’s little that can faze him. But now, his voice pitches up every so slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you on your way to meeting the Jeon’s?”

“Yeah, but Jisoo just called to tell me she’s not coming.”

“Oh shit.”

Family. Marriage. Commitment. They’re essential pillars for the Jeon’s who’ve been married for fifty years. They’re old school, the epitome of tradition. The plan was for Jin to look like a family man too, to add to his own integrity and to show that he shares the Jeon’s company values. And everything matters when it comes to the contract they’ve been trying to sign for the past year. A minuscule detail like this could tip the scales and make the Jeon’s sign with the competitor instead.

“Is Irene there?” Jin asks as he drives. “Maybe she can come instead.”

“She’s already running an errand for Hoseok. Just...make something up. Maybe you can say—”

At the exact same time, as Seokjin stops for a red light, the entire car jolts forward without warning. He nearly slams his head on the wheel — this time, unintentionally.

What the fuc—

“Yoongi, wait. I just got rear-ended.”

“What?!”

As if things couldn’t get worse today. Jin undoes his seat belt and climbs out of the car. The perpetrator of the accident also gets out and he looks at you who’s completely wide-eyed.

“I’m so sorry!” you screech in horror. “I was just singing to this new album and looking around, I’ve never driven on this street before and I wasn’t paying attention, I’m so so sorry.”

You come to look at the damage at his bumper and a gasp tears from your throat. It’s a Maserati.

You don’t know much about cars, but even you’re aware this is a luxury vehicle imported from somewhere in Europe. Germany. France. Italy. One of those fancy countries where you haven’t even dreamed of traveling to. You don’t know much but one thing’s certain — you’re so fucked.

As you’re losing your mind, Seokjin taps his foot and checks his watch.

His eyes bulge when he realizes the hour’s almost up. “Do you have your insurance information?” he blurts, interrupting your internal meltdown.

“I-Insurance?” You deflate all at once. “I don’t.”

Seokjin sighs and glances over his shoulder. The Hwagae Hotel where the meeting was taking place was so close that he could practically see the entrance door from here.

There’s no more time to waste.

“I’m heading to the Hwagae Hotel.” He points down the street. “Do you want to talk about it there?”

You nod dejectedly and get back into your car to follow him into the hotel’s parking lot before you slow down traffic any more than you already have. Getting more angry drivers on your back is the last thing you need at the moment. At the same time, your mind scrambles for solutions. But it comes up empty.

God fucking dammit. You shouldn’t have been cheap. You should’ve just gone hungry for an entire week to get the car insurance. Why on earth did you think you didn’t need it?!

By the time you get out of your car again, you’re on the verge of tears.

You eye the expensive, sleek black car. Then your eyes stray to the stranger.

“I...I don’t have much money I can give you.”

Jin glances at his watch and then at you. He finally gets a good look at you. Or rather, he notices your simple skirt and blouse ensemble. In an instant, a light bulb flickers in his brain.

“You don’t need to pay if you follow me.” His head nudges towards the hotel and your eyes become rounded at the suggestion. You gawk at the door of the hotel and back at him within seconds, entirely horrified. Seokjin quickly clarifies, “I have a business brunch inside and I need a partner to go with. You don’t need to do anything. You can just stay silent and eat.”

Seokjin watches as you look at the car and then his crisp suit before you’re slowly coming to nod. “A-Alright.”

He turns on his heel and struts into the hotel lobby without waiting for you.

Seokjin wouldn’t necessarily call himself a spontaneous person, but when push comes to shove and it’s the last moment, he’s good at coming up with fixes. He prides himself on it, having been the person who jumped in at the last second to repair things on more than one occasion.

Podium mic not working at the charity banquet? He ran to the nearby mall and bought a portable karaoke microphone at a booth. The client has a pollen allergy he didn’t know about? He threw the flowers on the table out the window when she turned around. The handouts for the shareholder meeting were forgotten? He announced they were going paperless.

The point is: Seokjin will do whatever it takes. Even if his methods are unconventional.

He enters the lavish hotel restaurant, already finding the couple by the windows. He brushes past the hostess with a sparkling smile and peeks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still following after him.

“Seokjin!”

They’re an old couple in professional garb. The man is in a gray suit while the woman is in a modest navy dress. He doesn’t miss the Louis Vuitton purse next to her wine glass filled with water.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Jeon. You as well, Mrs. Jeon.”

He shakes their hands and at once, Mrs. Jeon looks at you with her brows raised. “And who is this?”

“This is my partner….”

“Y/N,” you fill in for him, realizing he doesn’t even know your name. You’ve been through your fair share of meetings, so you smile and shake their hands with ease.

As strange as the situation is, you’re just relieved he wasn’t lying about it. You had the impression he wasn’t, but you were ready to hightail it out of here if he brought you into a hotel room.

“I didn’t know you had a partner, Seokjin,” the older man notes, impressed and curious.

Jin laughs. “Well, I’m glad you know now.”

Everyone takes their seats and the waiter comes by to fill your glasses of water and ask if anyone wants a particular drink. Once he’s sauntered away, the woman across from you makes conversation. “What do you do, Y/N?”

So much for having to do nothing. “I’m an intern at JML.”

“Oh, I have a friend’s niece who works there. Are you looking to become an accountant then?” her husband asks.

“Hopefully.” You smile before lifting the glass of water to your lips.

“That’s so nice,” Mrs. Jeon sighs. “You young-ins should work and develop a career while you still have the chance. Heaven knows things become so much more difficult once you start a family.”

Family? It’s a foreign concept to hear considering it’s not a subject even in the realm of your concern. You manage to stiffly nod.

“How did you two meet?”

You almost spit out your water.

Seokjin reaches over to pat your back as you wheeze. “Are you alright...darling?”

You wipe your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. What was this guy’s name again? Seokho? No that wasn’t it. It had a J in it. Seok...ju? No….

“Seokjin, I’m fine.”

Mrs. Jeon watches the interaction through rose-coloured glasses and smiles knowingly. “My apologies if it’s an intrusive question. I just adore a good love story.”

“Actually, it’s a funny story.” Jin smiles as a sweat bead practically rolls down his face. “Y/N here rear-ended my car when I was on my way to a meeting and that’s how we got to know each other.”

He looks at you and starts to laugh. After a delayed moment, you join in and inwardly cringe at how awkward it sounds. Yet the old couple doesn’t notice.

“How long have you been together?” Mr. Jeon asks with a warm smile, hands threaded on the table.

You look at him and his laughter dies down. “T-Thr-Two years! Yes, two years.”

“Well isn’t that sweet,” she swoons to her husband who nods in approval. “Are you going to get married soon? It’s not good to let a young woman wait too long.”

If you didn’t choke before, you might again. This time from your own saliva.

Mr. Jeon hums. “Yes, I personally don’t think one should wait long if they know it’s the right person.”

“That’s right.”

“Well that’s good news,” Seokjin interjects before you get the chance and he suddenly blurts, “Because we’re already married.”

Your head whirls to him, neck nearly breaking from the whiplash. You gawk at his profile.

Mrs. Jeon gasps in amazement. Mr. Jeon appears intrigued.

As the proclamation leaves his lips, it’s already too late to take it back. Seokjin isn’t spontaneous. He’s just good at quick fixes, too good that they become permanent fixes.

The point is: Seokjin’s an absolute idiot sometimes.

“Really?! Where’s the ring?”

“We’re getting it fixed at the moment. Y/N lost a bit of weight so it kept slipping off her fingers.”

He turns to you and you stare at him incredulously before deadpanning, “Right.”

“When did you get married?” Mr. Jeon asks.

“Recently,” Seokjin lies without batting a single lash. It’s not hard to pitch an idea or an outlandish one at that when he used to work as a door-to-door salesman during his teenage years and then a car salesman during his college years.

Seokjin’s entire career has been built on convincing others.

“So you’re newlyweds then.”

You give him a look. Jin smiles.

“Yes. We are.”

By the end of brunch, you know more about Kim Seokjin than you ever intended to know — case in point, you’re now aware of his last name. You know he’s three years older than you are, that he’s been working at his company for four, and he’s pretty high up on the corporate ladder but is still continuing to climb it. You even know about the possible contract between his company and the Jeon’s, and the open plot of land on Hwarang avenue that would apparently be the perfect location to expand the Golden Resort and turn it into a franchise.

You’re sure he knows way more about you than he’d like to know too.

“I’ll be honest, I was unsure if I wanted to sign with your company, Seokjin. But you’ve shown me you have a lot of integrity and a strong work ethic. I think our values are compatible as well.” Mr. Jeon shakes hands with Seokjin. “You’ll get a call from my office soon and I think you’ll like what you’ll hear.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“You’re a lovely couple,” Mrs. Jeon adds on as she looks at the pair of you standing next to one another. “I look forward to seeing you again soon, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes…”

The two of them bid their final farewells and Mr. Jeon lifts his hand to the valet across the lot. Mrs. Jeon hangs off his arm as their Cadillac is driven up to the door. They get in soon after.

It’s silent between you and Seokjin.

“So…..we’re married, huh?”

“I’m sorry.” He turns to you with a heavy sigh. “It was a really important client I have to sign with and they really value family and relationships.”

You nod. It doesn’t really matter now — what’s important is that it’s over. But one thing isn’t. “About your car….”

The both of you walk across the lot to his vehicle and he finally has the time to get a good look at the damage.

There’s a clear dent in his back bumper and a scratch. But luckily, there doesn’t seem to be much anywhere else.

“It’s a ninety nine thousand dollar car.”

You wheeze. “Pardon?”

“I don’t know how much the damage will be, but it might cost a bit.”

Oh my god.

Seokjin suddenly turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I can make you a deal you can’t refuse. I know you don’t have the means to pay for the damage, so you won’t have to. But in exchange, accompany me to business brunches or galas. It won’t be often and it’ll be similar to what you just experienced. You won’t have to say much and you can even eat for free.”

There’s a drawn out pause. You blink at him owlishly.

“I accidentally told him you were my wife and if you weren’t there from now on, it’ll look suspicious,” Seokjin explains. “It’ll be just for a little while. Maybe half a year? I’ll figure something out after that. How does it sound?”

You know you don’t have much of a choice.

You don’t have insurance and you don’t have money to pay out of pocket. If anything, the offer is generous and Seokjin seems trustworthy — especially considering you’ve gotten to know him in the past hour.

For all those reasons, maybe that’s why you nod. “I can do that.”

He smiles and you brace yourself for a whirlwind.

#bts fanfic #jin fanfic #jin reader insert #jin fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #jin scenario #bts drabble #jin drabble #Anonymous #Jimlings

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

Text

Reminiscing // Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: In a rare moment of peace, you find yourself thinking back over the centuries shared with the one you love.

A/N: I AM A FOOL FOR ELIJAH MIKAELSON. My taglist is open for The Originals - if you would like to be added, let me know!!

Warnings: fluff, history, established relationship, vampires, mentions of blood and death, mourning and grief, female pronouns, use of ‘wife’, dialogue heavy.

Word count: 1.8k

The house was quiet.

A rare occurrence in the Mikaelson household, but for first time in the months, the house was quiet. There was so furious shouting from Klaus, there was no attempts at mediation from Elijah. It was all quiet, and it was all peaceful.

When such a thing happened, it was very much the time to take hold of the rarity with both hands, gripping onto it for dear life in the hopes that the peace and quiet does not end too soon.

You sit in the library; finally put back together after one of Klaus’ anger fits. The books line the shelves in the correct order; a painstaking task you had completed after Klaus had apologised to you, knowing how much you cared for the almanacs and folios hidden away in the priceless Mikaelson collection.

The chair you had chosen to sit in was one that had come with you from the continent when the family had first settled in New Orleans. You had found it at a markets, immediately buying it and having it brought home with you that very day. Elijah had said nothing, indulging you with a roll of his eyes and a kiss to your lips. He very rarely argued with you, knowing that more often than not, you would have been right to make such a purchase.

The photo album remains open on your lap as you stare down at the images stuck to the pages. Time had aged the album; the pages becoming worn at the corners and browning further with each passing year.

This was the first album you had picked up; knowing it had the most pictures of the family in it. In particular, this album was home to perhaps your favourite photograph of yourself and Elijah. It had been taken spontaneously; unaware that a photographer even stood close by. Your bodies are angled towards each other as if each other’s true north. Elijah’s expression is soft as he glances down at you; the beginnings of a smile poking at the corners of his mouth as he readies himself to laugh at whatever you might have been saying in that moment. His hand rests delicately on your waist as your face is turned upwards; your eyes shining brightly as your hands gesture wildly, punctuating your story.

Footsteps sounding bring you out of your reminiscing. Instead, you greet the subject of the photo, smiling widely at your husband as he enters the library, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored shirt.

“I knew I would find you here,” Elijah comments, a hand brushing over your shoulder and the back of your neck as he walks past you.

“I’m making sure Klaus doesn’t take out his anger on anymore of the family collection.”

Elijah chuckles, “I don’t think that will happen again. He’s too scared of your reaction.”

“As he should be,” You declare, puffin out your chest proudly at the fact that the hybrid would be too scared to even touch the precious books and histories housed in this very room.

“The Great War?” Elijah asks, pointing to the album in your lap, not expecting an answer. He reaches for the photo album, beginning to flick through the pages as he wanders around the room. “My dear, whatever brought this on?”

“It’s been so peaceful recently. I wanted to take a moment to remember.”

“To remember?”

“Our past, my love. We have been together for over a thousand years, married for just short of that. I wanted to remember the peace.”

Elijah doesn’t answer. He simply watches you, watches the emotions flit over your face as you communicate your feelings. The last few months haven’t been easy on anyone in the Mikaelson family; the permanent target on your backs making it hard to live everyday life. Klaus continuing to make enemies left, right and centre didn’t help the matter either.

A thousand years. A thousand years he has loved you; has never loved anyone but you. His life prior to being a vampire flashes before him; a strong man, destined for great and noble things and completely in love with you – kind and caring. The relationship happened quickly, but the both of you knew that your eternities were intertwined. The curse put on him by his mother perhaps made him more selfish of all; turning you to ensure your eternities would always remain intertwined.

“Why the Great War?” He finally asks after a moment of silence.

“It was the first time we got our hands on a camera. We had seen them before, in France, but this was the first time we had owned one.”

“Rebekah loved it. She was forever posing in some ostentatious dress.”

You chuckle, your body warming at the obvious fondness in Elijah’s voice. He would berate her fashion sense, but he would never speak ill of his beloved little sister.

“Do you remember the summer we spent in England? It had to have been 1812 or 1813?”

“And you let Rebekah promenade for the season?” You start to giggle, “She had so many suitors! I have never seen Klaus so mad!”

“It wasn’t just Niklaus,” Elijah recalls, “I had so many angry missives from mothers who wanted to marry their daughters off that season but couldn’t because of Rebekah.”

You snort, remembering the empire waists of those months spent in London. The weather had been particularly wonderful that year; the sun continuing to shine for days on end. More time had been dedicated to walks in the park than they had been to being cooped up inside. Whilst the fashion of the time could be debatable, the company of your husband was very much desired.

“You were the diamond of that season, my love,” Elijah comments, bringing you back to the present.

You roll your eyes at the love of your eternal life, “You have to say that. I’m your wife.”

“What would you have me say?” Elijah asks, eyes bright with happiness, “As I recall Lady Earnshaw was particularly handsome that year too.”

“Lady Earnshaw!” You gasp.

“She loved me,” Elijah defends, holding a hand to his chest as if wounded by your words.

“Of course she did! You flirted with her every chance you got.”

“Jealous, my love?”

“Never,” You snort, remembering the aged face of the stubborn matriarch, “Lady Earnshaw was a day over eighty if I ever remember her.”

Silence descends over the both of you; memories of a past once thought long forgotten now washing over you. There was much to think of when one has lived for over a thousand years. The first few months after your transition were blurry; the pangs of hunger making your thirst practically insatiable – unable to think of anything but feeding. Yet, as you aged and found your place in society on Elijah’s arm and in his heart, your memories become refined – punctuated with moments of joy and pangs of heartbreak.

It had not been an easy existence. Family’s often fallout and Klaus had no qualms about punishing his siblings. However, in and amongst those dreaded recollections were rare moments of peace. Moments that were sought after and savoured; relished by every member of the Mikaelson family.

“Do you remember the sixteenth century?” You ask, mind faraway in the past.

Tudor England had been where you were happiest. You loved New Orleans, adored the culture and the people that came along with it, but Tudor England had its charms as well. For the millennia that you had been walking the earth, you had always found home in Elijah, knowing that he would be with you for an eternity and more. Yet, Tudor England had a hold on you. Having to leave the court of Henry and not return until Elizabeth had been crowned; it had been the longest decade of your immortal life.

“How could I forget?” Elijah laughs, “You have our miniatures in your bedside table.”

“Nicholas Hilliard was a dear friend,” You admonish thinking of the artist with great fondness.

“Queen Elizabeth I was never my biggest fan, was she?”

“You did take her sugared violets away from her,” You remind him, a smile in your voice as you remember the anger in the monarch’s voice once she realised who had in fact stolen her precious sweets.

“Her teeth had rotted away completely!” Elijah protests, throwing his arms wide as he defends his actions from centuries ago.

“So what would more sugar do? She had already lost her teeth, love. As I recall, her breath wasn’t all too pleasant.”

Elijah grins, remembering your pinched expression every time the monarch sought your attention, “You were her favourite.”

You shrug effortlessly, lifting a single shoulder. “I can’t help that she had good taste.”

“You wound me, love,” Elijah moans, smiling widely. His playful side came out rarely, but when it did, it was a treat for those nearby.

“You also refused to call her Elizabeth,” You continue, ignoring Elijah’s noise of protest, “You would call her ‘Betty’.”

“She didn’t mind the name when I was in her father’s court. I still argue to this day that I didn’t deserve her shoe being thrown in my face when I let her nickname slip out of fondness.” Elijah argues, crossing his arms as he thinks back to the small redheaded child he had first encountered almost five hundred years ago.

“She wasn’t the Queen then, darling. She was five years old and in need of a mother.”

“You were wonderful as her closest confidant. She thought of you as her mother.” Elijah comments quietly; his mind still on the small child of five – bright red hair combined with a wide smile. Elizabeth had become attached to both you and Elijah; finding adoptive parents in both of you when you showed her the smallest of attentions. It was hard to say no to such a child.

“It broke my heart to leave her,” You reply, your non-beating heart lurching at the memory of not only the tearful teenager, beginning to question why you hadn’t aged, but also of the weary monarch. Elizabeth had been very ill at the end, and you had refused to leave her. Ignoring the wishes of your husband and your family, staying with her until the end.

“I know it did,” Elijah murmurs, his hand seeking yours as he sits down next to you. “You were solemn for months, nothing I did could bring you round.”

“I had to mourn, Elijah.”

Elijah brings your hand to his lips where he kisses the back of it before kissing your knuckles. He keeps your hand close to his mouth as he whispers, “I know.”

You sigh, “It has been a life of mourning, hasn’t it? Time passes and yet I remember every death.”

“You’re not alone, my love.”

You turn to him, a soft smile gracing your lips. “I know. I have you for it all, don’t I?”

“Always and forever,” Elijah quotes, pressing your hand to his chest, holding it above the heart that would never again beat but continues to love you just as fiercely as it had when it beat its familiar rhythm.

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah x reader #the originals fanfiction #the originals #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x you #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine

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secretaryunpaid · 3 years ago

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Losing Crown Princess Eleanor...

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Word Count:1995

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): Emotional and physical trauma, spontaneous abortion, anxiety, abduction

~~~~~

~~~~Barren~~~

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~~~~~ Losing Princess Eleanor… ~~~~~

Riley had learned that she was pregnant less than a month after returning from her honeymoon… She already felt it in her heart, but was afraid to test her theory… she didn’t want to take away from the magical memories she had shared with her loving husband…

Sex on the beach, then sex in the villa, to sex on the flight home… She could never have enough of her husband’s body, nor he hers… But she didn’t want to put him on an emotional rollercoaster with all of the scandalous press that had been published of their love escapades in the waters of the beautifully secluded private island he purchased for her as a wedding gift… one of many she would discover over time.

Liam wanted to spoil his Queen, knowing that she wouldn’t agree to his suggestions of her having property outside of his Valtoria estate that he gifted to her … He never spoke of his time there with Alina… it wouldn’t erase their history… it wouldn’t bring her back… When he found Riley, nothing from his past mattered anymore… or so he’d convinced himself. He went on to secretly purchase islands in the Maldives, along the Amalfi Coast, France, and Monterisso. His plans were to have purchased properties throughout the world for her to escape should she ever tire of her Queenly duties.

Little did he know that the Queen of Spies would be drawn to Cordonia for discussions of an alliance simply because he had purchased a lavish estate for his new bride in her country. He had also found the courage to visit property in Auvernal owned by his deceased mother. His father had hidden this from him, never wanting him to have anything to do with any parts of the country… blaming his refusal to form an alliance with them or implement Eleanor’s joint project requests as the cause for her assassination.

It had been bequeathed to him in her will, but this information had not come to light until Riley uncovered the property deeds and project folder in Eleanor’s secret study. This also drew Queen Isabella and King Bradshaw to Cordonia seeking an alliance as well, especially since their spies had told them Monterisso was approaching for an alliance.

It was shortly after their marriage that the Queen would be abducted and held for the highest ransom Liam would ever have requested of him, his life in return for that of his Queen. He would tell no one of his decision to give his life freely over to his enemy, as he knew that she would probably lose her life in their feeble attempts to prevent his choice.

He would receive a summons from none other than Anton Severus. The images sent with the request immediately caused Liam to vomit. His worst fears were realized before his eyes. Anton had severely beaten Riley, her clothes tattered … her face, filthy and swollen… Anton wasn’t without his own bruises, signifying that his Queen had put up a valiant effort to free herself from her captor. The dried blood stains throughout her torso were sending daggers through Liam’s heart. The last thing removed from the envelope was a flash drive…He opened his laptop, inserting it into the usb port…

Clicking on the folder with much apprehension, it opens to show a video file. Fearing what he may see… Liam decided not to watch, unsure if it was cowardice or fearing that he may act irrationally, endangering Riley’s life even more… He arranges an unmarked car, and exits the castle through a secret passage.

As he makes his way to the destination, Olivia enters his office, having just received word of Riley’s capture. In his haste, Liam failed to lock his desktop which worked to Olivia’s advantage. She saw the peculiar envelope on the desk, her usual curious nature taking control… she removed the contents and her heart wrenched at the sight of the photos… silently vowing to end her unwanted husband’s life.

Olivia places a quick call to the only person that has been able to keep their identity hidden while assisting her during multiple operations. She immediately recognized the former Nevrakis stronghold, amazed that Anton could be so absentminded… or did he wish to be found? Regrettably, she does something Liam didn’t have the courage to do… watch the video content … She immediately loses her footing, feeling immense empathy for Riley hearing her tormentous wailing and muttered cries for Liam… begging him to just let her die… No woman should have to endure this… friend or foe. She takes the drive and other items … not wanting anyone else to know this happened to their beloved Queen.

As she heads to assist in the rescue, the video plays on repeat in her mind… her temper reaching its maximum… calming only when she realizes that Riley sent a message… if not followed to the letter, she and Liam were sure to be dead by the time of her arrival. She immediately calls her second most trusted ally… the Queen of Monterisso. “Amalas, I need your help…” Her former anxiety turned into a sinister excitement… accelerating at higher speeds to quickly reach her destination.

She knew that Anton would have many forces awaiting the King’s arrival, and half expected them to kill him before ever reaching Riley. But she remembered that the Nevrakis' way was to kill their own target, sending clear messages to anyone who heard of their actions, knowing they’d dare not speak a word.

In her rush to cover traces of what was occurring with the King and Queen, she’d failed to notice that Drake had been covertly hiding in the shadows, curious as to why Olivia was exiting the King’s study. He’d heard her place a call to Amalas, and upon her walking a far enough distance not to notice, he peered into the open door, noting that Liam wasn’t present. This prompted him to follow Olivia. He immediately knew that something was up that everyone was trying to keep secret, but he wasn’t going to be left out if Liam needed him.

He also placed a call to Hana to let her know where he was headed should he not happen to return. Someone must know of his whereabouts. Sharing his location with her, she decided to play a bit of a spy queen of her own… one of her many talents being hacking advanced satellite systems and much more. The one thing she had not mastered was driving, so she needed help from someone she knew would want to be involved in this rescue effort… Maxwell Beaumont.

When Amalas and Olivia finally reached a safe enough area to proceed on foot, they were stealthily moving towards an entrance known only to Nevrakis. She knew that these things wouldn’t be shared with Anton, because their golden rule was to only entrust a blood born Nevrakis with this information. She truly hated to share this information with the Spy Queen, but now was not the time to keep to family tradition.

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~~~~~ Just before they were to fight off the remaining guards, exhausted but determined, Drake, Hana and Maxwell appear. It wouldn’t take long to rid themselves of their unwanted interference with rescuing the King and Queen. With Maxwell taking the final guard down, the beautiful stroke of his katana ended the last outside threat.

Once inside, they witness the unfair sword fight ensuing below. Liam outnumbered, but holding his own. Olivia spots Anton Severus, holding a short blade to Riley’s throat, enjoying what looks to be the imminent defeat of Cordonia’s King. Underestimated, Liam stalks toward Anton, sword poised to strike at the moment he reaches him.

His action was halted as he caught a glimpse of blood trickling along Riley’s neck, his only warning that her life would come to an end should he move closer. This was the first time the King faltered, refusing to allow her death at his urging. Anton motions for him to disarm.

Tears flowing, Riley insists that he allow her to die… “Cordonia needs its King… Love, let me go… Please !!!!” Crying, he pleads for his life to be taken instead, falling to his knees in surrender. Sweet victory dripping from the demonic smile spreading across his face, Anton never notices the rescuers descending from above.

Just as he draws his long sword, hoisting it high for a clean slice with the intent to decapitate, Hana sends a blow dart directly into his jugular, the poison immediately having effect… his sword falling away as he clenches his throat. His paralyzed form slumping to the ground. As Hana abhors murder, she only used enough to disarm her enemy, although the effects would take days to wear off.

Liam rushes to Riley, as Olivia frees her from the ropes, careful of any further injury. He kisses her gently, but syncope soon takes over. As he tried to wake her, Olivia noticed the pooling blood. Amalas and Hana do their best to stabilize her as they rush out after Oliva, Drake and Maxwell as Liam carries her protectively…

Once everyone is in a vehicle, Drake drives full speed until Amalas can give him an ETA on the Life-flight she requested. Once she has coordinates, they arrive minutes later with emergency crew standing at the ready. Liam has to be pulled from her side constantly as they try to assess her. With everyone aboard, they are airlifted to the nearest Lythikos facility. But the Crown Princess would make her untimely arrival prior to landing… Everyone aboard witnessing the despair overtaking the King as he held Riley close, shaking his head no at her pleading looks… preventing her from trying to reach her still born princess, not caring about the treatment they were trying to give her. Her fight would not last long, as she loses consciousness before the King’s terrified eyes.

She would spend weeks in the private wing, Liam by her side. Amalas, Olivia, Drake, Maxwell and Hana never leaving watch outside the inner room. Anton remained under heavy sedation deep within Olivia’s keep, supervised by her fiercest and loyal guards, awaiting Liam’s orders.

During their time there, the grieving monarchs were like two normal parents who’d suffered this tremendous loss. Liam held Riley as she recounted all of the things they would not get to do with their “Elly”...

Never getting to sit in the dandelion fields as she loved to do as a child, watching the seeds blow away in the wind… running with the wind flowing through her hair. Never standing over her specialty crib they’d so lovingly selected together as excited as if she would be laying soundly inside as soon as it was assembled in the nursery… Never watching her stare at the paintings Riley spent hours muraling along her wall, with special ordered paints that would shine as the lighted mobile shone upon it as it turned… revealing the hidden treasures within the design. Never watching her fall asleep as her loving father sang the beautiful lullaby his mother sang to him for all of her time with him…

When that dreaded time came, Liam and Riley would have their first moment of time before their little one’s memorial tomb… telling of their love for her still and how much they wanted to watch her grow to be as fierce a leader as they’d become… It would be soon after that Liam would suffer a second tragedy, the fall into postpartum depression he would fight continually to help his wife overcome… feeling the same emotions as his beloved wife, only in a fatherly way…

It would be an announcement like none other… Not the expectation of Cordonia’s first female heir in centuries, but the tragic loss… It would be a Kingdom mourning as one...

~~~~~~~~

The Queen Returns, Summoned...

#@trr #@secretaryunpaid #@TNA-TRR crossover #@Becoming Mrs. Dalton #choices the royal romance #king liam #@Queen Riley Rhys

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gisellelx · 3 years ago

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Since tomorrow is Father’s Day (and also Edward’a birthday I think?) can you share some sappy headcannon moments about Carlisle and Edward?

Ohhhhh anon. Thank you for this. My heart, here it all is spilled out on paper. I am making NO APOLOGIES for the length of this post. You knew what you were getting into, here. And have I got a treat for you about my headcanon and this particular date: First, you must understand that because of the ole' sideblog, I have a very detailed headcanon about where Carlisle is at any given time so that there aren't continuity errors. This is actually one of the fun things about fanfic vs. profic--in profic, at least in contemporary YA, my genre, you are trying to minimize references to actual events and time lest your work not be timeless. But I have a really detailed outline of when all my characters exist; I find I can't write any other way. This is why SM is so baffling to me--it's so clear she just has like, blank gray clouds for any time any given character isn't on screen. Nah. I have backstories for days on even my minor characters. I always know where all of them are. In fic, I get to fully indulge that because no one has to figure out if the fic will still sell five or ten years from now if it makes a dated reference to the new iPhone. So I can set the characters precisely in time, and imagine how exact dates and events affect their lives right then. Carlisle and Esme have been in Wisconsin; the children are all living as individual couples in southern France. You can thank Foi Pur for the headcanon that the Cullens own a home in Toulouse. They were stationed there while Carlisle was practicing in Bergamo early in the pandemic, and the children stayed there while Carlisle followed the outbreaks and Esme refused to leave his side (even though he begged her to). They came to the U.S. last summer; they haven't lived here since they left Forks 8 years ago. The borders have been closed; they haven't seen the rest of the family since then. On June 9, 2021, France opened the borders to vaccinated Americans. As case counts have receded, Carlisle has shifted to being a more standard hospitalist, with the usual 7 days on, 7 off schedule instead of taking off to say, Mumbai, because he bought Esme their old house and she's busy with it. He's working that schedule at two hospitals though, so basically is never off-duty. As soon as France announced their change, he went to both CMOs and said he was taking time off to see his family. He had to finish working that week, and then had to work his next "on" week at the other hospital, which meant that June 19 was the earliest he could possibly travel. In other words, the actual world, and the very real constraints of the kind of work I envision Carlisle to be doing, have converged on the fact that Carlisle and Esme touched down in their private jet at Castres airport early this morning Central European Time. On Father's Day. And Edward's 120th birthday. Everybody met them. There were lots of non-liquid tears. Edward hopped on Sotheby's the moment the news dropped on June 4 and rented an estate in Saint-Tropez that is costing them a quarter of a million dollars a week but it's private and they can all be outside. They got there this morning and are throwing Edward an extravagant party this evening, and Carlisle hasn't been more than six feet from Edward for the last twelve hours. Edward's patience with this is going to tire by midday tomorrow, but for now, he's enjoying Carlisle's attention. (It's 7:30 PM in Saint-Tropez as I write this; they're in the thick of gift-giving.) In other words, these boys could not possibly be happier this particular Father's Day.

So that's the big, fun, sappy, timely hc. Here's some others:

Edward is an only child. There, I said it. Carlisle and Esme talk about having six children and will never in a million years admit, even to themselves, that they actually only have one child. But they treat Edward like he is their only child, and Carlisle thinks of him as separate from the rest. He certainly loves him more.

Edward gets very pouty if anyone but him celebrates Father's Day. Most of the others are very "whatever" about it but Carlisle and Rosalie do have a very father/daughter relationship and so she also likes to honor him on Father's Day. Because Edward is Edward, he assumes she's doing this just to annoy him and it's one more hash mark on the "Rosalie is a bitch" bingo card.

They are best friends as well as father and son. Their relationship is always both/and. It often turns on a dime--they're having a raucous, bawdy time one moment and then something triggers Edward and they are in full-on father/son comfort mode the next. Everything in their relationship happened very offhandedly. The first time Carlisle told Edward he loved him, it was by accident: he thought it while they were playing in the woods a few months after Edward's turning. Edward came to a stop so fast Carlisle almost crashed into him. Carlisle then said the words aloud for the first time.

Edward didn't return those words for nearly a year. Again, it was almost an afterthought: he was thanking Carlisle for a new phonograph and the words "I love you" just slid out. Carlisle almost spontaneously combusted.

The first time Edward called Carlisle his father, they were still living as a man and his brother-in-law. He came home excitedly, having bought tickets to the new moving picture house in town. He was telling Carlisle the story, excited that he felt confident enough to sit in a closed room with a crowd of humans, and mentioned he had bought two tickets because as he'd told the ticket seller, he thought his father would like to come. He was surprised when Carlisle started crying. Edward and Carlisle almost never fight. When they do, it is vicious. Edward is the only family to have ever seriously injured Carlisle; Carlisle has a long gash across his left collarbone and down his left scapula from the most serious attack in 1927. Edward hates it when Carlisle thinks about them. Carlisle has never broken Edward's skin, but there've been a handful of times they've had very tense conversations while Carlisle had him in a half nelson.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, can wound Carlisle more than Edward having a teenaged fit and screaming, "You're not my father!" Edward knows this, but sometimes his brain short circuits and he does it anyway. This has happened only a handful of times and each time it's taken years to repair.

Carlisle was touch-starved for so long that he is very touchy-feely with Edward. Edward is perpetually seventeen and does not like to be cuddled, hugged, or kissed. They met in a place that is nowhere near the middle where Carlisle occasionally puts his arm around Edward. Like, once or twice a year.

This changed a little bit when Renesmee became a teenager and started rebuffing Edward's physical affection. He came to Carlisle and complained about how she never wanted to be hugged anymore and Carlisle laughed so hard he choked. Edward has gotten a little better about being hugged since then. Renesmee has been very good for their relationship in lots of ways, not the least of which has been that it has helped them both view Edward as more of an adult. Anyway. I could go on for days. These details are always lurking, and they're sprinkled throughout any fic I write. Love these boys so much. They are such a fantastic duo to write. Happy Birthday, E.

Happy Father's Day, C.

#headcanons #carlisle cullen #edward cullen #father/son #long post #sorry not sorry #anon #ask #i honestly don't remember where the movie headcanon came from #i have absorbed it as canon so completely it feels like mine but i think i stole it

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luisjuanmilton · 3 years ago

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Ahhh hi I'm awake and I've never sent like a prompt or ship thingy before so I hope this is what u mean !! For a ship maybe Dan and esteban and for a prompt maybe just esteban taking Dan to look at Christmas lights or something like that?

This prompt is perfect and I had been dying to write dansteban so thank you so much for requesting it <3

(I just realised you can’t put a read more on mobile sorry guys you’ll have to bear with this long post)

Daniel sighed to himself, absentmindedly scrolling through every single movie Netflix had to offer as he desperately tried to find something that would distract him from how painfully lonely he felt.

It was Christmas Eve, and while he would normally be either in Australia or Italy with his family by now, the fucking global pandemic had made it so that he was stuck in the flat Renault had rented for him to use whenever he was in Oxfordshire.

The flat was so underused that it barely had any furniture, and the lack of decorations coupled with the cold that could be felt even when he had the heater on wasn’t doing anything to improve his mood.

Daniel was used to spending his holidays in the sun damn it, he’d never asked for a white Christmas.

He had been surrounded by nothing but silence for so long that he almost thought he’d hallucinated the knocking that was coming from the direction of the door, but when it grew more insistence he nearly jumped off the couch, hurrying to see who could have possibly come to visit him.

And his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he found none other than his lanky teammate standing on the other side of the wooden door with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Esteban?” he asked, half convinced that he was definitely hallucinating.

“Yes, hi” the Frenchman answered, a tiny hesitant smile pulling at his lips “for a second there I thought you weren’t in”

“Yeah sorry I thought I’d heard wrong, but, uh, what exactly are you doing here?” Daniel’s eyes widened when he realised how rude that sounded, and he quickly rushed to correct himself “Not that I don’t want you here or anything, you actually have no idea how nice it is to see you”

Thankfully, Esteban only looked amused by his rambling, the smile on his face growing larger.

“Well I sort of realised we were both stuck here, and since I don’t particularly fancy being alone tonight I thought you might not either”

And really, Daniel was so embarrassingly touched by that that he could have cried.

“Oh. Yes, no, absolutely. You can totally come in but I have to warn you that I only have, like, frozen pizza and a couple of beers on the fridge so -“

“Actually, I thought I could take you somewhere” Esteban interrupted, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth “if you don’t mind braving the cold that is”

Daniel beamed at the Frenchman, his innate love for surprises making a flare of excitement rush through him, especially after he had been sure the most exciting thing that would happen to him that night would be watching the new season of Love Island.

“Let me get my coat”

Just to be safe he decided to put on the biggest and fluffiest coat he owned, paired with a knitted beanie and a matching scarf, not even caring that he probably looked ridiculous next to Esteban, who didn’t even look like he had noticed it was snowing.

There wasn’t anyone around to judge him anyways, and he knew Este would never mock him.

Indeed, the younger man looked almost fond as he took in his very over the top attire, holding the door open for him and shutting it behind them.

He was nearly skipping as he followed Este down the stairs, not even questioning it when they walked past both their cars to instead follow the trail that lead to a small park that he’d never bothered to visit before.

Esteban stopped him when the park was just around the corner, turning to face him with a serious look in his eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

Daniel found himself nodding before he’d even finished the question, and when his entire face immediately softened at that, he felt warmth flooding his chest that had nothing to do with the layers of clothing he was wearing.

“Of course I do”

“Close your eyes for me” Este softly commanded, holding a hand out to him that he didn’t hesitate to take before complying.

It was a little tricky to walk over the rocky and snowy path without being able to see, but the firm hold Esteban had on his hand was enough to assure him he’d never let him fall on his ass.

They must have walked for less than three minutes when they came to a sudden halt, but even then Este didn’t let go of his hand.

“Okay… you can open them now”

Daniel immediately did as he was told, and a delighted gasp left his mouth as he took in the sight in front of him.

The entire park was light up by what seemed to be hundreds of Christmas lights that were hanging from the snowy trees, making it look like it’d been taken straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Thanks to the way they swayed with the breeze it almost seemed like they were twinkling stars, and Daniel felt like he’d walked into some sort of winter wonderland.

“Holy shit” he breathed out, hearing Esteban chuckle beside him at the expletive.

“Do you like it?”

“Are you kidding? I love it! It looks like a fucking postcard”

Este let out a full bellied laugh at that, but it was obvious to Dan that he was very relieved by his reaction.

“I’m glad. It’s just that I remembered you saying how much you liked Christmas, and I didn’t want you to have a crappy one this year, I think it’s been shitty enough. I also brought a big blanket, some pastries and a thermos full of coffee, it’s not exactly a Sunday roast but I think it’ll do” he confessed, the apples of his cheeks as red as the tip of his nose for reasons that the Aussie was sure were completely unrelated to the cold.

If Daniel had felt touched before, he was sure he was about to spontaneously combust because of how endeared he was by the man standing next to him.

“You really are something special Esteban”

“Oh it was nothing”

Esteban’s entire face was as red as the Ferrari livery by now, and his pleased grin made him look all the more adorable.

It was only then that Daniel realised neither had let go of the other’s hand.

“Hey Este? I know I couldn’t leave here because of the travel restrictions in Italy, but I thought they had lifted the travel ban in France… why didn’t you go home?”

The sheepish look he got after that was more than enough answer for him, but he still wanted to hear him say it.

“I, uh, I sort of overheard you talking to Cyril about how you’d have to spend the holidays here. I’m sorry for eavesdropping but I promise I didn’t mean to, and I just really didn’t want you to have to spend them alone because I know how much you miss your family and -“

Now it was Daniel’s turn to interrupt Esteban’s rambling, and he couldn’t think of a better way to do it than by fisting his hand on the front of his sweater and pulling him down into a kiss.

The tiny surprised yelp that left him was muffled by Daniel’s lips, and when the younger man’s brain registered what was happening he all but melted into the kiss.

And the Aussie had no idea how long he’d been wanting to do that without realising it, but as their lips moved together he quickly found out he never wanted it to stop.

Unfortunately, their need for oxygen was still a thing, but they only separated enough so that they could breathe while still keeping their foreheads pressed together, not caring at all that the angle was far from comfortable because of their height difference.

“Thank you” Dan murmured, tightening the grip he still had on the other’s hand and feeling an electric current run through their linked fingers.

“Merry Christmas Dan” he answered, with a smile bright enough that it put all the lights that surrounded them to shame.

“Merry Christmas Este”

With that, Daniel pressed their lips back together, thinking to himself that maybe he wouldn’t mind spending his holidays in the snow as long as he had Esteban close to keep him warm.

#the new installment of ‘ana cannot write drabbles to save her life’#I just have a lot to say okay #and I’ll do the rest tomorrow guys promise! thanks for sending some!#long post #dansteban #daniel ricciardo #esteban ocon #drabble #my writing

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somethingvaguetodo · 4 years ago

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It’s fucking crazy you’re a ‘feminist’ and yet you think chat the serial harasser ‘deserves’ to know marinette secret 😐

Thanks for your input! As you can see by the fact that the majority of what I write is Ladynoir reveal fic, I do like both of these characters and think they have a wonderful relationship. I think some things need to be addressed here, particularly this warrants a discussion about harassment.

Harassment is not a word to be thrown around lightly, and is a very serious accusation. As you pointed out, I am a feminist (I do prefer ‘opinionated feminist’ for a reason, but that’s okay) and I take all accusations of harassment seriously - the unfortunate truth is that almost all women, at least women that I know, have experienced some form of harassment.

The Oxford English Dictionary defines harassment as: “the act of annoying or worrying somebody by putting pressure on them or saying or doing unpleasant things to them.” Based on that definition, I’m not really clear how you could find one example of Chat Noir harassing Ladybug/Marinette. Chat has asked her out, and when she turned him down, he accepted her rejection and told her that she is his best friend. It was a particularly respectful and mature reaction. I’ve also rejected people in my time, and, well, it usually doesn’t go that well.

Let’s dig a little deeper. I’m located in the USA, so when I search for legal definitions of harassment I get American law. But since our kiddos are Parisian, lets see what France has to say on the subject. French penal code defines harassment as “repeated remarks or behavior that have for purpose or for effect a deterioration of [the victim's] living conditions leading to a change in his/her physical or mental health.” To get more specific, as I’m sure you are insinuating that the harassment is sexual harassment, here is France’s definition of sexual harassment: “the act of repeatedly imposing on a person remarks or behavior that have a sexual or sexist connotation, that either cause harm to his/her dignity because of their degrading or humiliating nature, or create an intimidating, hostile or offensive situation against him/her.”

This seems like even more of a stretch to start calling any of Chat’s actions harassment. The only time in the now 4 seasons of this show where we see a deterioration of Marinette’s living conditions or mental health is the past few episodes, and the burden of that is almost entirely on being the guardian, not Chat Noir. In fact, you could look at some of the other characters (i.e., Luka, Alya and the girls, Lila, Hawkmoth) and pull apart the way their actions negatively have impacted Marinette’s mental health, but it is actually explicitly stated that Chat Noir is the only person who can keep her going and make her feel good. Sounds like the antithesis of harassment to me, or more succinctly, it sounds like friendship.

Chat often touches Ladybug, but I’m going to have to call foul on touches during fighting. It sort of comes with the territory. Instead, the touches we see are usually his hands on her shoulders. I see this action as a means of steadying her, helping her focus on him and his support, and is something he only does when she is doubting herself or needing this additional support. In fact, Ladybug initiates physical touch with Chat Noir more. She hugs him, leans her head on his shoulder, grabs hold of his arm. There are some great posts floating around showing how surprised he is when she spontaneously hugs him, and that is her touching him without asking permission. I would never call this harassment either, as it is another example of support, love, and friendship. Unless someone makes it clear they do not want to be touched, you are allowed to hug your close friends.

Let’s not forget, if you take the New York special as canon (which I do) that Chat Noir gave up his miraculous. Ladybug had the perfect opportunity to get rid of him if she wanted to - all she had to do was give the ring to someone else and BAM she has a new partner who no longer harasses her and makes her uncomfortable. But what does she do? She says she can not be Ladybug without him, she returns his miraculous to him, and she hugs him when he comes back (again with her initiating unnecessary physical contact, it’s almost like she likes him).

There are some real examples of harassment in this show. Both Lila and Chloe are both shown, at different times, to make Adrien uncomfortable with physical contact. In Lies, Kagami pushes Adrien up against a wall, and we can see the discomfort on his face. In Felix, Felix (pretending to be Adrien) tries to kiss Ladybug. She punches him in the face, making it clear that she is not going to deal with unwanted touching, so we see that she is not the type to sit back and take it, even when it seems to be coming from someone she is romantically interested in. If she was bothered by Chat Noir’s attention, she would make it known.

Finally, do I think he ‘deserves’ the knowledge of her identity? What I wrote in that story was that he, and they both, deserve to be the first to know each other’s identities. The meaning there is that they have fought for, and earned, the right to have the safety and security to know each other without worrying about the danger knowing their identities can put them in. They’ve been through a lot together (us against the world, remember), and I do believe they have both earned that right.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. No one owes anyone anything. Marinette doesn’t owe anyone her secrets, her identity, her time, or her affection. But sometimes, people show us, through words and deeds, that they care about us, that we can trust them, and that they will support us no matter what. That is what Chat Noir is for Ladybug.

I hope you find someone like that in your life.

#ask and you shall receive #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug analysis #mlb #chat noir #chat noir analysis #be best friends

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deja-you · 4 years ago

Text

foreign affairs | part one | paris

m. de lafayette x reader

summary: In 2020, Representative Y/n L/n is up for reelection. Lafayette, Y/n’s former best friend and current French socialite and playboy, decides this is the time to walk back into her life.

word count: 6.8k

trailer | next

2012 was the year he broke his arm and broke her heart.

During her sophomore year of college, Y/n decided she wanted to study abroad in France. She had taken a few years of French in high school and college, not enough to be fluent, but enough to hold a short conversation. Lots of college students studied abroad, and seeing as Y/n was majoring in Political Science and International Affairs, it made sense.

Paying for a year abroad was another story. Since her senior year in high school, Y/n had been saving up the money she earned from waitressing, and with the help from her parents, she was just able to afford the trip to France.

During the first week in Paris, faculty members took students around the city to see different attractions. Most students went to see the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. Y/n preferred to see France’s president’s residence, the Élysée Palace. It was built back in 1718, and the beige colored stone -- we don’t really care what this building looked like, do we? It’s a building in Paris, of course it had beautiful architecture. We’re all wondering why this is significant, right?

Okay, so Y/n loved politics and history and foundations of democracy and republicanism. She was standing outside the French White House (it’s not really white, we’ve covered this, it’s more of a beige color, but I think “White House” is a term we all understand). Y/n was probably admiring the architecture that your author is refusing to describe. Now this is where it gets more interesting.

“Pretty building, isn’t it?”

A man leaning against one wall was watching Y/n while he lit his cigarette. He had spoken plainly in English; was it that obvious that Y/n was American.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/n replied politely.

“Very. Soon it’s going to be my home.”

This piqued Y/n’s interest. “Are you running for president? I can’t remember anyone that looked like you in the polls.”

If she was being honest, she had never met anyone that looked like him in general. Charming brown eyes, curly hair, neat stubble, and a smile she would’ve remembered. He gave her an amused look and raised his cigarette to his lips.

“You wouldn’t,” he replied, then offered his hand for her to shake. “You can call me Lafayette.”

Y/n shook his hand, but she was still confused. “And you’re running for president, Lafayette? I have to say, you might need to work on your name recognition.”

“I am not running for president, chérie. Perhaps you’re more familiar with my mother, Jolie de la Rivière?”

He watched as the realization hit her.

“Jolie de la Rivière? As in the frontrunner in the presidential election?”

“The very one. I am surprised an American keeps up with French politics.”

It made sense now. Y/n could see the resemblance between this stranger she had just met and the future French president. De la Rivière had been leading in the polls since she announced her campaign, and it was almost certain that she would win the election in April. Y/n just happened to run into de la Rivière’s son?

“You want to get something to eat?” Lafayette asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Y/n was still in shock, but she nodded, wanting to know more about the man she had just met. “Okay.”

They crossed the street to a café (there was a café at nearly every corner in Paris) and took seats outside. Y/n let Lafayette order for both of them even though she knew enough French to order herself, she didn’t want to give him any reason to make fun of her poor French accent.

“So,” Lafayette said, watching Y/n curiously, “you’re an American in Paris, huh?”

“I suppose so. But less “starving artist” vibes and less musical numbers,” Y/n quipped. Was she really talking to the son of the future French president, and he was asking about her?

“So if you’re not a starving artist, what are you doing in Paris?”

“I’m a student at Georgetown and I’m spending the semester studying abroad,” Y/n informed him.

“What are you majoring in?”

“Political Science and International Affairs.”

“Political Science at Georgetown? You must be smart. Will I see you running for president some day?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed. “I don’t know about that. Maybe I’ll find a job working on a campaign or for a Senator. I don’t have it all worked out yet.”

“Neither do I,” Lafayette said. This made Y/n pause. She could tell he was a few years older than her. He was also Jolie de la Rivière’s son. How could he not have his whole life worked out?

“What’d you mean?” Y/n asked.

He shrugged. “Everyone expects me to follow in my mother’s footsteps. It’s not that I’m not interested in politics and government, I just... I just don’t want to live in her shadow forever.”

“I see,” Y/n said. “At least you’ll have connections no matter what you decide to do.”

“That is very true.”

They continued talking for an hour or so. Lafayette would ask her what it was like living in the United States. Y/n would ask him what it was like having a powerhouse mom. The conversation came easily to both of them, something Y/n had never expected from a stranger.

When the bill came, Y/n ultimately let Lafayette pay for their lunch after much protesting (Y/n only allowed for him to pay because she was a broke college student). Then Lafayette asked for Y/n’s phone number, which she gladly gave to him. He promised he’d call or text sometime and they went their separate ways.

He said he’d call, but Y/n was expecting within the next few days or weeks. She was not expecting him to call her only a few hours later.

“Y/n, hey!” Came his voice from the other line.

“Lafayette? Hi?”

“I know this is sudden, but there’s this concert at a small venue tonight. I have a few tickets, and I was wondering if you and some of your friends wanted to join me tonight?”

“Um, okay, yeah?”

“Great! I’ll send you the information.”

And then he hung up. True to his word, he sent her a text with the time and address a few minutes later. Y/n invited two of her suite mates, Rebecca and Joe, to come with her. Then a few hours later, they showed up at a small but lively concert venue. Lafayette met them there, wearing a more casual outfit, and they all went in together.

Y/n honestly couldn’t remember who was performing that night. She didn’t remember much, but she knew she had more drinks than she should’ve, that the music was loud, and that the room was incredibly hot. What she couldn’t forget was the headache she woke up with the next morning. At the very least, she had made it into her own bed even though she hadn’t made it out of the clothes she had worn out the night before.

She grabbed her water bottle from beside the bed and took a long drink. When that didn’t help, she went to find Rebecca or Joe to ask what had happened the night before. Rebecca’s room was closer, so she knocked on the door before opening it.

“Hey, Rebec-- Oh my god!”

She quickly shut her eyes but she wouldn’t be able to unsee partially naked Lafayette struggling to quickly put his clothes back on. Y/n cringed and closed the door quickly behind her. What had she just seen? Why was Lafayette in Rebecca’s room? And why was he naked?

“Y/n, mon dieu, you weren’t supposed to see that!” Lafayette had finished dressing and followed Y/n out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“What exactly was that?” Y/n asked.

He held a finger to his lips and motioned at the door. “Rebecca’s still asleep.”

“So you and... that happened?”

Lafayette rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah, I guess so. It was all a blur... but, yeah.”

“We all got pretty drunk last night,” Y/n justified.

“Er, not exactly. You and Joe had a lot of drinks, but Rebecca and I decided to stay sober enough to get everyone back. So once we got you and Joe home, well, we kind of...” He trailed off and his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Oh. I see.” Y/n didn’t know what to say. “Are you and Rebecca like... a thing now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

Lafayette really didn’t know. Neither did Rebecca.

In the next two weeks, they hooked up a few more times before deciding they were best off as friends. After that, it was a Parisian girl named Celeste. Y/n quickly got used to Lafayette’s flirtatious nature and him constantly bringing around a new girl. Sometimes it was annoying, sometimes it was a point of humor. It didn’t matter too much to Y/n, she was content being friends with him.

They grew close quickly, and soon enough Y/n couldn’t remember what her life had been like before him. There was no one Y/n preferred to discuss foreign policy with than Lafayette, and there was no one Lafayette would rather annoy than Y/n. At one point, Lafayette took Y/n to one of his mother’s rallies, and Y/n spent more time than necessary explaining to Lafayette’s mom how big a fan she was. Lafayette nearly had to drag her away so that actual constituents could talk to his mom.

But most days it was more casual stuff. Sometimes Lafayette would sit on Y/n’s phone and take a ridiculous amount of selfies on her phone while she worked on homework. Other times they would take spontaneous trips to the grocery store at night to pick up ingredients for fried rice. Every Tuesday, Lafayette and Y/n’s roommate, Molly, would listen to Y/n rant about wage gaps between different demographics in America after her Economics class. And sometimes they would make fun of cheesy romcoms together.

“I don’t understand your obsession with Nora Ephron, Y/n,” Lafayette complained, although he was dutifully pouring extra butter onto their popcorn for the movie.

“She only directed the best romantic comedies ever!” Y/n defended.

“But why is Meg Ryan in all of her movies?”

“Because Meg Ryan is the best!”

“I still don’t understand the appeal of this movie. So a kid calls a radio show and Meg Ryan falls in love with him?” Lafayette asked.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “No, Meg Ryan falls in love with the dad! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But she’s never actually met the dad?”

“...well, no.”

“I don’t understand Americans.”

“You just need to watch it!”

Seeing that he wasn’t making any headway with Y/n, Lafayette sighed and resigned to his position on the couch. Grabbing a blanket, Y/n happily settled down on the couch beside Lafayette and started the movie. Every now and then Lafayette would scoff at some cheesy line or make some comment and Y/n would be quick to shush him. Eventually all the popcorn had been eaten and the end credits began to roll.

“So what did you think?” Y/n asked eagerly.

Lafayette shrugged. “I don’t know. I just can’t get over the fact that she just left her fiancé like that.”

She rolled her eyes.

Months ago, Y/n never would have imagined she’d be invited to an election watch party for Jolie de la Rivière, but now she wasn’t so surprised. De la Rivière’s campaign had rented out an upscale restaurant that was packed to its max occupancy. Lafayette’s mother spent most of the evening schmoozing her voters and speaking with interviewers, allowing for Y/n and Lafayette to sit by the bar and mess around.

“Okay, okay, be serious this time. Don’t smile.”

“I won’t! I promise I won’t,” Y/n said.

“We’ll see. On the count of three... one... two...”

“Wait! I’m not ready!” Y/n couldn’t help but burst out into laughter, a smile spreading across her face.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. “I do not know what to do with you.”

“I can be serious.”

“No, you can’t.”

“I can! Just watch.” She looked away and focused on making her expression resolute and steely. Y/n slowly looked up to meet Lafayette’s eyes and they stared at each other for a few seconds with straight faces. Then Lafayette had the gall to arch one of his eyebrows and Y/n broke once again.

“That’s not fair. I was doing perfectly fine before you cheated!” Y/n complained.

“It’s not my fault that you can’t keep a straight face, Y/n.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink. “I can’t blame you. I’m so devilishly good looking, most women can’t keep it together around me.”

Now it was Y/n’s turn to roll her eyes. “I can assure you that’s not the problem here. Maybe I keep laughing because you’re so funny looking.”

“Haha. You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”

When she didn’t respond, Lafayette tried again. “Y/n?”

“Lafayette, look.” She pointed to a TV hung over the bar.

A reporter on the screen was announcing that De la Rivière had won a landslide election. Then the screen cut to another reporter who was at the restaurant interviewing De la Rivière in person. Y/n and Lafayette’s eyes traveled across the room to see his mother talking to the reporter. The same scene playing on the TV overhead.

“Did that really just happen?”

Lafayette’s mom had been ahead in the polls for months now, and everyone expected her to win the election. But now she really had won. Lafayette was the President-elect’s son. Both Y/n and Lafayette knew this was probably going to happen, but now that it had, neither of them really knew what to do.

Everything after that was a blur. They celebrated that night, having a few more drinks. Enough alcohol to have a good time, but not enough to get totally drunk in an effort not to embarrass Lafayette’s mom on her big night. After that, Y/n didn’t see Lafayette for a while. He was busy getting prepped by his mom’s staff to be the perfect son and getting assigned a new security detail.

Y/n didn’t mind all that much. Sure, she missed him, but now that he was gone, she could spend more time actually working on her school work and getting more sleep. How had she gotten anything done when he was around? It was during the month when Lafayette and Y/n didn’t see each other at all that Molly slapped a magazine down on the table where Y/n was eating breakfast.

“What’s this?” Y/n asked, picking up the glossy magazine.

“Apparently Lafayette is France’s most eligible bachelor,” Molly informed her.

Y/n scoffed and looked over the cover of the magazine. Lafayette was casually leaning against a wall in the photo wearing a fitted suit and a colorful bowtie. He had a casual grin on his face, and his facial hair was trimmed neatly.

“Has Lafayette always been this hot?” Y/n muttered.

Molly gave her a look. “Yes. Yes, he has.”

“He might be a bachelor, but I don’t know if I would call him eligible.”

“What’s wrong with Lafayette?” Molly took the magazine from Y/n and flipped to the fluff piece written about him. “He’s handsome, and charismatic, and intelligent. I would date him.”

Y/n watched her roommate admire the photos of Lafayette and realized this wasn’t the first time Molly had considered the thought. How many times had Y/n watched Molly laugh at something Lafayette said that wasn’t even funny?

A buzz came from Y/n’s phone and she welcomed the distraction from her thoughts. Of course the text just had to be from Lafayette. She hadn’t seen him in forever, and he just happened to next her now? Yes, because it’s going to move the plot along.

Paint the town red w/ me tonight? The text read. Bring some friends and we’ll make it a party.

She shot back a text asking him if he was even allowed to hangout with commoners now that his mom was the president. He sent back a sarcastic haha and assured her he had it all worked out.

Molly was a little too excited when Y/n asked her to come hangout with Lafayette, but what did Y/n care? If Molly liked Lafayette, Y/n didn’t care. Why should she care if her roommate wanted to date her best friend? She did her best to stop thinking about it. Molly let her borrow a dress that was shorter than Y/n was comfortable with and they headed out with a few of their friends to meet at a bar Lafayette had texted them about.

He was thirty minutes late, and Y/n would’ve been annoyed she hadn’t expected it from him. He fed everyone some charming story about having to ditch his security detail. Y/n wanted to point out to him how irresponsible he was being, but honestly, she was just glad to see him again. When he was done enchanting their friends with his stories of his grandiose lifestyle, everyone returned to their drinks and Lafayette finally had the chance to sidle up to Y/n and sling an Armani-clad arm around her shoulders.

“Been a while, stranger?” He gave her an impish grin.

“And who’s fault is that?”

Lafayette’s eyebrows shot up and he pouted. “Aw, chérie, you know I couldn’t help it. I’ve been busy, it hasn’t been easy, this last month.”

“Right. ‘Cause living in a literal palace must be so difficult.”

“I forgot how sarcastic you can be.”

She shrugged and gave him a self-satisfied smile.

“Maybe you’ll be nicer after a few drinks,” he suggested.

“...it wouldn’t hurt.”

His smile was wide and she had forgotten how much she had missed it. Lafayette leaned forward and ordered a round of drinks, and just like that, it was like they hadn’t been apart at all. Their friendship was easy like that.

After two drinks, Y/n was laughing louder than anyone in the bar. Lafayette urged her to quiet down, but by the way wrinkles formed by his eyes and he laughed along quietly, they both knew he wasn’t serious about it at all. It was after they had started taking shots that they decided they were too hot to stay indoors. The night was young, and Lafayette had already hatched a plan in his mind.

“Let’s go to a park,” he announced to their small group.

There was a chorus of enthusiastic agreement. Y/n, more than a few drinks in, was still hesitant.

“Everything is probably closed at this time. Don’t you think you should be getting home?” She asked.

“C’mon, Y/n,” Molly chimed in, “it’ll be fun. There’s no harm to it.”

Y/n wanted to argue that there very well could be harm to it, but Lafayette was too fast.

“Molly’s right. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll get a night of freedom again. Better make the most of it, oui?”

Lafayette must’ve earned his magnetism from his constant exposure to politicians. He would make a great politician if he ever decided to apply himself, Y/n thought. It wasn’t the first time she had thought this.

Everyone listened to him almost like they were hypnotized, and before she knew it, they were standing outside a small park. A small closed park. Y/n knew she shouldn’t be committing a crime with the French president’s son, but the group had a mob mentality now. Anyway, Lafayette had his mind set on breaking into the park now. There was nothing anyone could’ve one to change his mind at this point.

Y/n still felt she had to try. “It’s closed. Everyone should just go home.”

“Nonsense,” Lafayette said.

“What’s your plan? Hop the fence?”

“Why not?” Molly asked. “It’s not that high.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Y/n responded.

But seeing the look on Lafayette’s face, she could tell he didn’t share her opinion on fence hopping. She watched him give a curious look to Molly. A look she recognized. There was always a twinkle in his eye when he was about to do something stupid to impress a girl. Y/n sighed, threw her hands up in defeat, and let him make his idiotic decisions.

And idiotic they were. Enough alcohol will give you the mindless bravery needed to attempt to jump a fence to impress a girl. That’s how Lafayette broke his arm.

Dealing with drunk, twenty-something-year-old French boys seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with the morons that, by some miracle, had been elected to the United States Congress. Y/n didn’t consider herself to be one of those moronic representatives, but she was sure some members of the Republican party had some choice words they used to describe her.

“We have a system that is fundamentally broken,” Y/n spoke into the microphone in front of her. Today she was asking questions at a hearing concerning campaign finance laws. Tomorrow it would be working on passing a bipartisan bill or going to some fundraiser for her reelection campaign.

“So would you say that Congress is held to the same rate of accountability as the president, the executive branch? Are there more regulations for Senators and Congressman, in regards to campaign financing than the president? Or less, Mr. Conway?” She asked.

The man in question, Mr. Conway, shifted uncomfortably in his seat before responding to the question, “there are almost no laws at all that apply to the president.”

Y/n was satisfied with his answer, but still she pressed on. “Are you saying that I, and every member of congress, are being held to a higher standard than the president of the United States?”

“...yes.”

“Thank you.”

The hearing wrapped up with all the formalities, and Y/n gathered up all her notes. She made her way from the committee hearing room to her office, knowing that her campaign manager and second-in-command, Nathan Hale, would be ready to tell her what else she had on the schedule for today. She found him sitting on the visitor’s side of her desk, his feet propped up on a chair.

“You did great in there,” he said casually.

She raised an eyebrow as she dropped all her notes from the hearing on her desk and sunk down into the seat. “You stayed and listened?”

“For most of it. I had to leave early,” he admitted. “There were some... issues I had to look at.”

“Issues?”

“Secretary Jefferson tweeted about you. You’re going to want to see it.”

Y/n groaned outwardly. “No, Nathan, I don’t think I will.”

“You’re probably right, but you should be informed nonetheless.” He handed her her phone, already opened to Jefferson’s tweet. It was nothing she hadn’t seen or heard before. Just another politician attacking her character and claiming she was a talentless kid who didn’t belong in politics.

She furrowed her brows as she quickly typed out a response to his tweet. That’s interesting, coming from a man whose entire career was built off his daddy’s money.

“What do you think?” She handed the phone to Nathan to read over her tweet. “Too harsh? Not harsh enough?”

He laughed. “It’s perfect. Anddddd... send tweet. Did we just enter into a twitter war with the former Secretary of State and the Republican presidential nominee? This feels like middle school drama, not running a country.”

Y/n only shrugged. “All I have to say,” Y/n muttered as she attempted to organize the clutter on her desk, “is that politics is nothing like The West Wing.”

“No?”

“No. Nathan, what do we have scheduled today?” She asked.

“An interview with The Times later, but I’ve lined up some meetings with a few of your largest donors.”

“That’s my least favorite part of the job. Who am I meeting with?” Y/n set aside her organizing and leaned forward on her elbows.

Nathan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and read off a few names from his clipboard. “We’ve got Mercy Otis Warren at two. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph for lunch—”

“Oh, I can’t stand them.”

“—and a Mr. de Lafayette in an hour.”

Y/n’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline and she was convinced she had heard him wrong. “Who was that last one?”

“Mr. de Lafayette, the French president’s son,” Nathan explained.

“Since when has he been a donor to my campaign?” Y/n frowned.

“He reached out a few months ago. I thought it was strange that a foreign leader’s kid wanted to donate to a U.S. representative’s campaign, but I wasn’t about to stop him.”

“I don’t want his donations,” Y/n said.

This caught Nathan’s attention. “Y/n, he made a very sizable donation to your reelection campaign.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want his money.”

“It’s too late. We’ve already spent the money on buttons and whatnot.”

“Nathan, no!” Y/n groaned. “And you said I’m supposed to meet with him today?”

“Yes, in an hour. I don’t understand what the problem is.”

Y/n pursed her lips and finally admitted, “We used to be best friends.”

“And you don’t want to see him because...?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well regardless of the length of the story,” Nathan said, “we can’t cancel on him. We need every donation we can get since you refuse to accept money from any PACs.”

“That’s because it’s the right thing to do,” Y/n pointed out.

“Maybe so, but that doesn’t make my job any easier. You’re not getting out of this meeting, Y/n. You should start mentally preparing yourself now.”

It had been eight years since she had last seen Lafayette. Eight years. And yet, she wasn’t exactly in a rush to see him again. They hadn’t exactly left things on great terms. Now he was making sizable donations to her campaign? None of this made any sense to Y/n.

An hour passed too quickly for Y/n’s liking. Nathan had arranged for a photo op between Y/n and Lafayette in the lobby of the hotel Lafayette was staying at. After all, the endorsement of a foreign dignitary would be good for her campaign, it would probably make the front page of local newspapers. On the ride over to the hotel, Y/n rehearsed how the meeting would go in her head.

She’d walk into the lobby and greet Lafayette politely. The photographers would capture a few pictures of them smiling amicably and shaking hands. Y/n would thank him for his support and his donations, inquire on the wellbeing of his mother, and then Nathan would pull her out and tell everyone she had another meeting she had to be at. Y/n would apologize, thank Lafayette again, and then they would part ways. And if she never saw him again after this, that would be fine.

Maybe she should have let Nathan in on her plans, because he had different ideas of how this meeting would go down.

“The Randolphs had to cancel on us, but I’ve pencilled them in for next weekend. That means we can take more time talking with Mr. de Lafayette,” he told her.

“What? But I don’t want to spend more time talking with him. I just--”

“We can discuss it later,” Nathan cut her off and pushed her into the hotel lobby where half a dozen photographers and journalists were already waiting. The cameras began to flash.

“We have a lot to discuss later,” Y/n smiled for the cameras, but Nathan was the only one able to hear the poison underneath her words. She meant them. But chewing Nathan out was for later, right now she had an ex-best friend and current campaign donator to deal with.

Standing to the side of the lobby was Lafayette. He was wearing gray slacks and formal shoes, but he had opted to ditch the suit jacket and wore his white button down with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his rather muscular fore arms. He grinned when he saw Y/n headed his way, and all of a sudden it was like she was a college student again. Memories of her year in Paris came back to her. Drinks at a local bar, watching romcoms together, attending rallies for his mom.

But bad memories returned to her as well, and they seemed to out weigh all the good ones she could remember. She had to focus not to let her smile falter in case a photographer took a photo of her looking anything less than happy to be seeing Lafayette. Journalists always had a way of spinning things.

“Congresswoman L/n, I am so glad you could make it,” Lafayette said. There may have been some things Y/n had forgotten from her year abroad, but the sound of his voice wasn’t one of those things.

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Y/n lied through her smile. “How was your flight?” She stepped forward and offered her hand for him to shake. Cameras flashed.

“Pleasant enough, I suppose.” He gripped her hand and gave it a firm shake. More cameras clicked. “It’s good to see you again. What has it been, eight years?”

They turned to face the cameras, letting the photographers take pictures of the smiling side-by-side.

“Must be. It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” She was doing her best to be professional.

He placed a hand on her back that could easily pass as just a friendly gesture between two professionals, but Y/n knew him better than that. Lafayette kept smiling, but he lowered his voice so only she could hear him.

“I’ve tried getting in contact with you so many times, Y/n. We used to be best friends, remember? Although now you seem to be doing fine for yourself.”

Y/n continued smiling, but she spared Lafayette an uneasy glance. “I am doing fine, aren’t I?”

“I just don’t understand why the only way I can get you to talk to me is to make large donations to your campaign and schedule meetings with your campaign manager,” he said quietly. “What happened to us?”

“Lafayette, this isn’t the time or place to address that issue,” she said with perfectly masked annoyance. Y/n smiled for a couple more photos, then the journalists seemed to have gotten enough content of the two of them. “Besides, I think we both know perfectly well what happened.”

The end of Y/n’s year abroad came quicker than she had anticipated. Paris had been fun, but if she was being honest, she was ready to return home. Molly and Lafayette had begun dating shortly after that night when he jumped the fence and broke his arm to impress her. After that, Y/n couldn’t help but feel like a third-wheel around the two of them.

It wasn’t easy. Lafayette was still her best friend and she couldn’t avoid him as much as she wanted to without him asking questions. Since Lafayette decided to date Molly, and since Molly was Y/n’s roommate, seeing them around together was nearly unavoidable.

Y/n had reached the end of her year abroad now, so... that was good? Molly had already left for the states a week and a half ago due to a family emergency or something. Y/n wasn’t completely sure, she had gotten good at tuning Molly out when she was talking about how great a boyfriend Lafayette was, that she must’ve started tuning out everything Molly said.

With Molly gone, Y/n was left alone in an apartment and with her thoughts. She didn’t see Lafayette as much, as he really only came over to the apartment to visit Molly these days. Now that she was left with nothing to do except pack and think, she was finally hit with the unsettling reality that the real reason she didn’t like being around Molly and Lafayette when they were together wasn’t because they made her feel like a third wheel.

She shoved those thoughts deep down her throat, worried what might become of her if she let herself dwell on them too much. When ignoring the thoughts didn’t work as well as she had hoped it would, she turned to an alternative medicine. The bar was an antidote for anything and everything.

That’s where Lafayette found Y/n. Drinking by herself on a weeknight.

“What are you doing here? I’m supposed to be the drunk one that you find and drag home.”

She looked at him lazily over her third glass of wine. “One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters. But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.”

“We’re quoting poetry, now?” He sighed. “You are more drunk than I thought.”

“I thought you would like it. Charles Baudelaire. He’s French. He said to get drunk, and wine tastes better than virtue.”

Lafayette took her glass of wine and drained it. Partially to prevent Y/n from drinking anymore, partially because he needed it. He looked at his best friend who was watching him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“What?” He asked.

“What,” she repeated, in a daze.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay. You’re the one getting drunk alone.”

She grinned sloppily. “I’m not alone. You’re here. And you’re getting drunk with me.”

Lafayette appraised Y/n for a moment. She was watching him so earnestly, her eyes bright and lively from the alcohol. He had to look away. Eventually he gave in and ordered another glass of wine for himself. Then, halfway through that glass, his lips loosened.

“Molly broke up with me.”

For a second, Lafayette could have sworn he saw a smile on Y/n’s face. But he must have imagined it, because when he looked again, she was giving him a pitiful look.

“She did? I’m so, so sorry. Did she say why?”

“No, but I think I know.”

“Care to share?”

He shook his head and took a long sip from his glass. “Not particularly. You care to share why you’re getting drunk alone in the middle of the week?”

“Not particularly.” She repeated his words and attempted a wink.

Then the two of them fell into a contemplative silence. There was no doubt that they were extremely close friends. But that didn’t mean they told each other everything, it just meant that they always knew how the other was feeling, even if they didn’t know why.

“We’ve got so much wasted potential, don’t we?” Lafayette finally said.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Wasted? I may be wasted tonight, but I’ll pull it together tomorrow.”

He groaned and hid his smile, not wanting her to know that he actually found her amusing. “Shut up, Y/n. You know what I mean.”

“Maybe you’re wasted potential. You could be a president or a CEO, but instead you’re drinking with your best friend at 10:48 p.m.,” she pointed out. “But I’ve got it all figured out. Tomorrow, I’ll pull myself together from this feeling-sorry-for-myself night. And when I go back to America, I’ll pull my life together again.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Tonight is a microcosm of my time here in Paris. Paris was just a drunk mistake. A really fun, really delicious mistake. When I return to the U.S., it’ll be my Paris hang over. I’ll deal with the consequences, be miserable for a little while, but then I’ll be great. Maybe be president or meet a penguin, whichever is easier.”

“I hope Paris wasn’t all mistakes.”

“It was.”

It should have hurt more to hear her say that. They were both a few glasses in at this point and felt invincible. Everything would hurt a lot more in the morning, but they felt so good then. Lafayette spared another glance at Y/n. This was his best friend, the only girl he really cared about. The girl he had promised himself he wouldn’t ruin things with. But one look at her lips made him lose any inhibition he had left.

He stared a second too long. Y/n noticed his eyes on her lips, and as if she knew what he was thinking, her lips were pulled up into a troublesome smile. A voice in the back of Y/n’s head warned her that she could ruin their friendship if she didn’t stop, but then again, she had never wanted to be his friend. Never.

“Come home with me?” She knew what his answer would be before she had even asked the question.

His response should’ve been “I don’t think that’s a good idea” or “we’re both drunk, we should both go to our own homes.” Or anything else. Anything else would’ve been better than his easy grin, his warm hand in hers as they exited the bar, and his sharp whistle as he hailed a taxi.

She could count this, right?

Lafayette had never told her he loved her. As a friend, at the very least, Y/n was convinced that he loved her. She had watched Lafayette express his affections and love for so many women before her. Y/n would be lying if she said that she didn’t die a little bit every time she saw him with someone else. She had watched him say “I love you” to almost everyone but herself.

In the back of the cab, flooded with orange light from the street, Lafayette’s hands felt warm on her body. He tasted like cheap wine even though Y/n knew he could afford something more expensive. He tasted like smoke as well, even though Y/n told him often how bad cigarettes were. The way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, it said “I love you.” Didn’t it?

I can count this, she decided with his lips pressed against her neck.

He only took his lips off her to quickly pay the cab driver, and even then he kept one hand on her thigh. Walking up a narrow flight of stairs is harder when you’re drunk and don’t want to let go of another person, but Lafayette and Y/n managed to do it. They stumbled into her apartment, not bothering to turn on any lights.

The next morning Y/n’s apartment would look like a crime scene; furniture out of place, clothes littering the floor, but she didn’t care at the moment. Any consequences for tonight’s actions would be her problem tomorrow. Tonight, all she could think about was the way he pushed her up against the wall and left bruises on her shoulders with his mouth.

By the time they made it to her bedroom, she had managed to remove all his clothes and he was taking off her panties with two fingers. Lafayette whispered something sweet in her ear, but Y/n really wasn’t listening at this point. He wrapped an arm around her waist and laid her back on the bed, placing a desperate kiss on her lips. Something in her knew that he wasn’t kissing her because he felt something, but because he wanted to feel something. Did it work?

Y/n would not know all the details of what happened the next day. All she would remember was the feel of his skin against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, and feeling more alive than she had ever felt before.

Drunken mistakes were something Lafayette was used to. Y/n had her fair share of drunken mistakes as well. Nothing compared to the moment Lafayette woke up next to Y/n in her bed with a terrible headache from the night before. He could feel nothing but dread and it was beginning to eat him alive.

“Mon dieu, what have I done?” The fact that he had really fucked up this time hit him like a train.

“I know,” Y/n replied. She didn’t share his same level of concern. “How much did we drink last night?”

“I need to go.”

Before she knew it, Lafayette was out of bed and pulling on articles of his clothing that were strewn across the room. Y/n was perplexed by his urgency and propped herself up on her elbows.

“Lafayette, relax. We were drunk, okay? It’s not a big deal.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand.”

“This shouldn’t have happened. I never wanted this to happen.”

Y/n didn’t even mask her pain, but Lafayette wouldn’t even look at her. Still, she tried to reassure him. “You hook-up with girls all the time. This isn’t that much different.”

“No, it is,” he said firmly. “You’re not just another girl, Y/n. We’re friends. I never wanted this to happen between us.”

Just like that, Y/n felt her heart plummet in her chest. Did he really regret sleeping with her that much? He couldn’t even fathom the idea of them together without panicking? Y/n’s mouth hung open but no words came out. What would you even say in a situation like this?

“I need to leave now.” He still couldn’t look her in the eye. Lafayette left her apartment without so much as another word to her.

That’s how Lafayette broke her heart.

Tag list: @fanfic-addict-98 @wordvomit-foryourmind @farihafangirls @actuallyanita @cubedtriangle @katierpblogg @ballerinafairyprincess @dannighost @ateliefloresdaprimavera

#marquis de Lafayette #alexander hamilton #hamilton #lafayette #lafayette x reader #lafayette imagine #lafayette x reader angst #thomas jefferson imagine #thomas jefferson x reader #hamilton imagine #Daveed Diggs #daveed diggs x reader #modern!au #foreign affairs

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21secondsofchristoph · 4 years ago

Text

Here is a full translation of the interview featured in Max Magazine.

Original text by Andreas Wrede

This was a lot of work so PLEASE don’t post this elsewhere without credit.

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This story with and about Christoph Waltz is a story coming full circle. A little more than 3 decades ago, a small group of editors and photojournalists, graphic artists and authors started developing the pilot for the first German issue of MAX, made possible by Dirk Manthey, the publisher from Hamburg’s Milchstraße, who knew the magazine from Italy, France and Greece. And who made me the founding-editor in chief. Three decades later, the derivative is released, thanks to publisher Max Iannucci. In 1990, Christoph Waltz was in an episode of “Der Alte”, among other things before he played the torn schlager music star Roy Black in “Du bist nicht allein – Die Roy Black Story” – but we will get to that later.

Now Christoph Waltz is an award-winning, internationally known actor, who won two Oscars for best supporting actor. That is unique for a German-speaking actor. Born in Vienna in 1956, he now lives in Los Angeles – if you want to play a role in Hollywood, literally, you must be present in Los Angeles. And during our conversation in a red, furry saloon of the legendary hotel Sacher in Vienna, he emphasizes, “Hollywood is always the goal”.

The place is very fitting, considering Christoph Waltz grew up in Vienna, in a family that cultivated a great affinity for the work on stage for two generations. He says laconically, “You grow into a thing, you grow up with it, and thus, you acquire a familiarity early on, which you’d otherwise have to conquer with a lot more effort.” He often went to the movies from an early age on, but he spent even more time at the opera. “When I had time and had finished my homework, I enjoyed going to the opera.” Back then, a standing room ticket cost about ten Schilling, just a few cents in today’s currency. Little Christoph loved smuggling into the fascinating, secretive opera house.

Later he attended famous acting schools like the Max Reinhardt Seminar or Lee Strasberg’s Actors Studio with significantly less pleasure. “I didn’t like attending acting schools. They didn’t exactly broaden my horizon.” Christoph Waltz hardly found them inspiring. And when he received offers for movies and theater, he accepted them “instead of dealing and struggling with teachers”. He says this with few gestures and in an almost reporting tone, he has always trusted the energies inherent in him. He had his TV debut in “Der Einstand”, where he played a teenage delinquent. That was fitting, considering he continued playing roles which were different, unexpected, and specific, or roles he filled differently, unexpectedly, and specifically.

Christoph Waltz remembers his beginnings as an actor in the 70s a little wistfully. “There were still movies on TV, which were made as movies for television, as one dramatic entity.” Or when there used to be directors like the great Federico Fellini, who was “very, very specifically Italian in everything he did.” Christoph Waltz continues: “And because of this specificity he was able to reach so many people.” A phenomenon like Fellini is marked by obstinacy, nonconformity, and distinct individuality. However, some significant conditions also irritated Christoph Waltz, for instance, when he was hired for the Krzysztof-Zanussi-film “Leben für Leben” in 1991. “I wasn’t adequately informed about the conditions and backgrounds. And so, I found myself – surpsised – in front of a camera in Auschwitz.” How does one react to something like that? “Today, I would know how to react”, he stresses thoughtfully, “but today, that would be due to the self-confidence I acquired over the past years. Back then I felt: Now I’ve been hired for this film.” Alright, he adds, one grows through experience, some conflicts are worth going through. “It helps building character.”

Was the decision to play Roy Black a crystal clear one? Not at all, he responds smiling and closes his eyes for a second. “When my agent called me about it, my spontaneous reaction was: Complete humbug, and I can’t even listen to this music for three seconds.” It only became interesting for him when he learned that Roy Black originally wanted to play Rock ‘n’ Roll. Then he became interested in the tragedy of this character. And the thought that Roy Black’s wish was the desire for freedom and wildness, a wish many Germans shared, “which was inherent in the promising American machinery.” Although this freedom and wildness had always existed in Germany, lived out by people like Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, or Kandinsky.

“The film itself was great, but the marketing-weisenheimers managed to break this film. It would be a great cine film, but they advertised it as a sob story for television. Consequently, the real Roy-Black fans were disappointed, while the people who might have been interested in the movie judged: Leave me alone with this sob story twerp. Well, the weisenheimers are the weisenheimers, what can you do”, deems Christoph Waltz with a beautiful touch of Viennese sarcasm and barely noticeable risen eyebrows. One does not always have to instrumentalize the entire acting equipment with him. A few little cues are enough.

Many more films follow before someone calls from Hollywood and say he is supposed to participate in Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds. In our interview he calls this his “Quentin-jump”, where he is at eye level with Diane Kruger, Brad Pitt and Michael Fassbender in front of the camera. “Tarantino, we mentioned this before, stands for specificity and authenticity, he has an eye for both.” Did Christoph Waltz go into this production with a lot of respect? “With great respect.” He remembers an encounter with Sylvester Groth in front of a theatre in Babelsberg. “Every Thursday, Quentin showed movies during preparation. Once, Sylvester and I stood in front of the theatre and we both said: Imagine this, now we’ve been doing this for so long and suddenly we find ourselves here.” Then we paused for a few moments and kept going: Yes, and despite everything, we’re doing what we’ve always done – what we do, because that is what we do.”

Before Tarantino’s office could call again, other international projects followed, like The Green Hornet (with Cameron Diaz, Tom Wilkinson, James Franco) or Carnage (with Jodie Foster, Kate Winslet, John C. Reilly). Then Django Unchained (with Jamie Foxx, Leonardo DiCaprio, Samuel L. Jackson). For his role in Django Unchained, Christoph Waltz wins his second Oscar for best supporting actor in 2013 and Quentin wins another one for best original screenplay. But Christoph Waltz remains humble: “The opportunities presented to someone for personal growth always come to you through other people.” Although the actor always makes a binary decision. “Yes or no. Am I going to do it or not.”

Can one also make the wrong decision? “You decide for one or the other and from that other possibilities develop, but neither is better or worse.” That was not any different for Quentin Tarantino or for his first film and its director Reinhard Schwabenitzky, who saw him in acting school. Christoph Waltz leans forward and says confidentially: “The essential chances and opportunities were those which were presented to me by another mind, by a great talent, through a vision, which came from another person.” Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, humility is a virtue. But we do not want to conceal the fact that Christoph Waltz was the first German-speaking host on Saturday Night Live and that he received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame (No. 2536, 6667 Hollywood Boulevard). The quote: “And Hollywood is always the goal.” Is correct, “like others say their goal is to get into heaven.” Hollywood, heaven: “I don’t mean to compare the two goals, but the setting of these goals. Especially Hollywood has been mythologized into more than it deserves credit for.” In this respect, as a myth, it is always the goal. Please don't tell anyone Christoph Waltz is over-the-top - the opposite is the case.

During our exchange in the Sacher, I mention one of my favorite books on film. It is Peter Biskind’s Easy Riders, Raging Bulls – How the Sex-Drugs-And-Rock’n’roll Generation saved Hollywood. It says: „There is no worse career move in Hollywood than dying. Hal Ashby is now largely forgotten, because he had the misfortune to die at the end of the 80’s, but he had the most remarkable run of any ’70 director. After ‚The Landlord‘, in 1970, he made ‚Harold and Maude‘, ‚The Last Detail‘, ‚Shampoo‘, ‚Bound for Glory‘, ‚Coming Home‘ and ‚Being there‘ in 1979, before his career disappeared into the dark tunnel of post-‘70’s, Me Decade Drugs and paranoia.“

It can be assumed that this won’t happen to Christoph Waltz? “That is a good example for the mythologizing I was referring to”, he responds. “I would claim that a legend like James Dean probably wouldn’t have developed at all, had he not driven himself to death in his Porsche at such a young age. Who knows what would have become of Marilyn Monroe, had she not put an early end to her complicated life.” And parallel to Hal Ashby, there probably were thousands of directors, who would have been happy to pay their next rent – by working in their profession. It is therefor about comparativeness.

Onto another career step, the James Bond movie Spectre, in which Christoph Waltz portrays the dark Blofeld, a character, who appeared in previous Bond movies. How do we have to imagine that? One sunny day the agent comes along and says: “You’re on the list for the next Bond movie”? Christoph Waltz knows there are no rules to this, especially when it is something like James Bond. A series that has been at the peak of possibilities for more than 50 years.” The producers have a lot to lose, they have to look very closely. Not only to keep up the standard, they also want to be ahead of their time.

Was it intriguing to play this bad boy a second time? Is it about an additional nuance of expertly irony; is it about the myth that is Bond? “This was another unique opportunity for me”, says Christoph Waltz, “a unique opportunity to include myself into such an incredibly successful series.” Now after Spectre, for the second time in No Time To Die – a title that can offer a bit of comfort in times of the world wide covid pandemic. And Christoph Waltz is in the Bond movie that will be Daniel Craig’s final Bond. “It’s his fourth Bond movie”, he counts, “the actors change but the role remains the same. Of course, the role acquires a different profile and thus, different facets.” But it remains James Bond. “And when a new actor gets the role, he has to fit into the role, not the other way around.” Once again, we will have to wait for this Bond movie. It will probably hit theatres in spring 2021.

It reminds one of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida – we’ve seen it a dozen times but keep going to see it again. Nowadays you go to see the production, in the past you went to see whosit faithless. Speaking of productions: Are the demands towards a Bond director more extensive compared to other film projects? “Surely there are more things to keep an eye on compared to a low budget movie or an independent film. In productions like that, you often have to use the tools you have. In Denmark they had demands referring to this “, Christoph Waltz comments in a slightly mocking undertone. He means the group around Lars von Trier? “Precisely, they called it Dogma for fun, and the world took them seriously.” But that is part of it, right, part of the business.

Anyway, every little detail is carefully manufactured for a Bond movie. And that takes, apart from a lot of money, a great level of expertise and many employees, which combine into a story on film. “Legions of people work on every pixel, not to mention the light and the meaning of the music.” With all this in mind, it’s understandable how appealing it is to be in a movie like No Time To Die. Christoph Waltz has a lot of praise for the director, Cary Fukanaga: “He always knew exactly what he was doing and we knew exactly, why he did this or that”. Audiences were able to see this in previous projects, like the brilliant first season of True Detective, where he directed all eight episodes.

Christoph Waltz wouldn’t be Christoph Waltz if he didn’t show his extraordinary talents in unconventional projects as well, like the show Most Dangerous Game (with Liam Hemsworth, produced for Quibi). “What interested me there? The new dramatic form, it’s a story in 16 sections, each section only eight minutes long. We’re dealing with a new form of storytelling.” Does it remind him of the continuous comics that used to be in US-newspapers a few decades ago?

“Yes, it’s connected to that – but it also reminds me of Charles Dickens, who published many of his novels as newspaper installments. In Most Dangerous Game the great story arch is not lost, the suspense is carried from one episode into the next. “That is a sleight of hand.” And for that he received an Emmy nomination, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he was to win the prestigious award one day. But he pulled off other sleight of hands in the past. Or how the New York Times says in a headline: “Christoph Waltz directing Opera, moves from Tarantino to Verdi.” Adding his old comment to this: “The full-blooded, juicy movie experience has a lot of operatic qualities. I’m not talking about the film music, but about the rhythm and color and phrasing.” After “Der Rosenkavalier” (Music: Richard Strauss, Libretto: Hugo von Hofmannsthal), which he staged at the Antwerp Opera, came Giuseppe Verdi’s “Falstaff”, his second opera there.

“I’m not a fan of the never-seen-before concept”, says Christoph Waltz. He agrees with Susan Sontag’s essay Against Interpretation – in opera, there is a fix story, and the music is the central transmitter of this story. Over-interpretations can quickly become “dangerous sliding tackles.” Waltz wants to avoid those. “I want to show what the composers and authors meant.” He stayed true to Sontag’s principle in all three of his opera productions, the third on being Beethoven’s only opera “Fidelio”.

He is self-critical enough, “to personally take the risk of failing.” What would be the alternative?

“I’m just an actor, now what do the music critics, who take themselves so seriously say? Some foam at the mouth and brawl ‘the movie-bod is interfering in the opera’.” He prefers the critics that are capable of formulating things between the lines. “When I read elsewhere, that the very thing I was trying to convey can be seen in detail, then I’m quietly happy about it.” Sadly, the live performances of Fidelio fell victim to the covid-crisis, but there was a TV-screening on ORF, which can certainly be called presentable with 11% of the market-share. “During ‘Fidelio’ I first realized physically that music is a spatial experience.” Here fits another Waltz-quote: “Strip away anything that us unnecessary.” Ergo: Reduce the action to the interaction between the characters. That is an art he mastered to perfection in acting.”

For once, I could surprise the cleaned up, chatty, well-tempered Christoph Waltz with a little research.

In his birthyear, 1956, his fellow countryman Walter Felsenstein, founder and artistic director of the “Komische Oper” in Berlin filmed a version of “Fidelio”. To this day, it remains the only film adaptation of the opera. Probably because – so the actor quotes Felsenstein – “this opera technically is impossible to stage”, he says with aplomb, an attitude that suits him. In ballet an aplomb describes the ability to absorb a movement, the balance.

Christoph Waltz not only shoots a lot of movies, but he also enjoys reading one particular movie critic: Anthony Lane of the New Yorker. Surely one of the most sharpened critics, who outtalks someone or rubs the reader’s nose into his alleged ignorance. We start talking about Lane via a new movie by the fabulous Agnieszka Holland, “Mr. Jones” – referring to Gareth Jones, advisor to the former British Prime Minister Lloyd George. Jones uncovers that the devastating hunger crisis in the Ukraine in 1932/33 was exclusively due to Stalin’s exploiting politics. Anthony Lane writes in inimitable fashion: „Is it conceivable that Holland’s bleak, murky, and instructive film could prompt a change of heart in the current Russian establishment, or even a confession of crimes past? Not a chance.“ Greetings from Belarus.

And of course, we also talk about COVID, what does an actor do who can’t act during these times? Is he reading Robert Musil’s novel The Man Without Qualities, which has more than 1000 pages? “Oh, I’ve already attempted to read this three times. The first time, I got to page 200, the second time I got to page 400, the third time I put it away after 100 pages.” But he doesn’t fully abandon the idea of finishing it one day. “But that would really be a true accomplishment of discipline”, he underlines, allusively smiling. Less amusing is the current stagnancy in Hollywood, where Christoph Waltz lives with his wife and daughter for the most part. “It will be illuminating once things pick up again”, he ponders “will a reforming spirit take over, or will everything fall back into the old, ignorant patterns, or even cause worse?” The temporary dysfunctionality of Hollywood is comparable to a dysfunctional family, which mechanisms become especially clear during crisis. Now he visited his mother here in Vienna. I allow myself the question, “Is Vienna your home?” “Vienna is my home, home is something you can’t choose, like your parents. Everything else can become your center of living, all that is willingly moveable – but home, home cannot be changed at will.”

#christoph waltz #max magazine

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