#i felt like i just needed to post this as is or i'd never finish it bc i wanted to add more but couldnt think of much 😭 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherriegyuu · 7 months

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lens of ice | yjh | one

pairing: jeonghan x f!reader genre: figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff, smut in the next part word count: 12k summary: jeonghan has only one chance left to make it to the olympics. as he embarks on this decisive journey, you, a documentarist, are set to follow him as he seeks the ultimate glory. warnings: jeonghan is kind of reckless with his body a/n: i've been writing this one for so long now and though it's not finished yet, i decided to post half of it, as a way to motivate myself to finish it. i really wanna thank @ressonancee first for giving me idea and second for helping me through all of this and putting up my crazy ass mind 💓

part one | part two (final)

The light buzzing of the fluorescent lights made him uncomfortable, it was like a premonition of what was to come. Something bad, he was sure.

Jeonghan was many things in his life, stubborn perhaps being the most obvious one, but dumb wasn't one then. He knew that his ankle was fucked up, that he was probably the cause of it. Too many hours of training, never giving himself enough time to heal before he got the ice again. He didn't know exactly how bad it was, that was for the doctor in front of him to say, but Jeonghan knew that nothing good would come out of the man's mouth.

"It's worse than I thought," the man said with a sigh, taking off his glasses "It's not just your ankle anymore, it's also your knee. And, I could be wrong, but considering the way you're walking, I'd say that you're right ankle also started to bother you"

Jeonghan hung his head. He was an athlete and he knew that he was being reckless, beyond actually. He should have gone to his coach the second he felt a sharp pain in his ankle. But he just went home, took an ice bath, and kept the whole thing to himself. Even on the following days, when the pain didn't go away at all, he still chose to keep his mouth shut and go to practice every day. And his coach, unaware of his condition, kept pushing him during practice.

Not that he needed anyone to be harsh on him, Jeonghan did all of that on his own. But having someone else do that for him as well brought out a different desire for perfection. One that came from a dark place to show someone else that he was good, to prove people wrong.

"Can I still compete?" was all he asked, it was the only thing that mattered to him "Can I make it to the Olympics? It's the last one for me, after this I retire"

The look on the doctor's face wasn't reassuring, Jeonghan knew that his next words wouldn't be the ones he wanted. He wasn't about to hear what he needed.

"If, and only if, you have surgery, take physical therapy seriously, and rest as we instruct you, there might be a possibility. Small, but it exists"

"When can I have the surgery?"

You stared at your computer screen, a hand on your forehead as you read the email your boss sent you. You sat at your desk, not really knowing what to do.

"Seungkwan!" you called without looking up "Did you get this email too?"

Just to make sure that you weren't crazy, you read it once again. The third time in less than five minutes. No matter how many times you read it, it didn't change.

"Yeah. I'm excited but scared…"

That was enough to get your attention.

"Why?"

Closing your laptop, you stood up moving closer to Seungkwan. Unlike you, who read the email many times, Seungkwan had already started his research. Not that he really needed to, everyone at the office knew that he was a huge fan of figure skating. So of course he would know all about Yoon Jeonghan.

The nation's pride and joy in figure skating, at least in the make category.

"Why scared? I thought everyone loved him"

It was impossible to look away from the picture Seungkwan had open on his computer. Jeonghan's face really was something else, as if he had been carved in marble by some ancient Greek artist. From his dark hair covering his eyes, giving him almost a mysterious vibe, to the way his lips were slightly crooked into a smile. You had to give it to him, the man was absolutely stunning. No wonder he left a trail of fans everywhere he went.

"He isn't the biggest enthusiast when it comes to the press. He barely gives interviews so I guess doing a documentary about him won't be easy"

Seungkwan kept scrolling, reading the latest news on Jeonghan. But the truth was that there wasn't any. His social media was also rarely updated, the last post was from months before.

"Well, good luck to you"

"What do you mean? You're the one in charge"

You just shook your head. The problem was Jeonghan honestly, you barely knew anything about him, though Seungkwan's words didn't help the case. The thing was that you barely knew anything at all about sports, in general, much less about figure skating. Lack of knowledge was an easy fix. The real issue was the fact that a documentary on a sport was way too different from what you usually did.

"I'm not doing this one. I have other projects I want to work on. Plus, this is too sudden. They want us to start tomorrow, Seungkwan. Do you really think that it's possible to have anything done by tomorrow?" he shook his head and you nodded in agreement "Precisely, so I'm sure that if we talk with Jihoon…"

"Nothing will change"

A curse left your lips at the sudden voice behind you. Turning around you faced the small man. Jihoon had his arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes that told you that no matter what he wouldn't let you off the hook. Still, you had to try.

"Jihoon, I'm not your sports person. And it's too soon. I don't anything about Jeonghan or figure skating"

Jihoon simply shook his head at you.

"They want a different approach than the average sports documentary, so I recommended you. I'm sending Seungkwan with you because I know this isn't your area of expertise, though I highly suggest you do some sort of research" he turned around to leave with a wave of his hand then turned around for a second, as if remembering something "Hansol will be your camera and sound guy. They asked for a small crew"

With a salute Jihoon left.

"Fuck"

You couldn't take your eyes away from the crutches under Jeonghan's arms and the orthopedic boot around his left leg. There was not a single article that pointed to surgery. There were plenty about his constant injuries though. Seungkwan had the same look on his face, of pure shock.

"Are you okay?" you asked once he made himself comfortable on the couch.

Jeonghan sat sideways on the couch, his leg propped up over cushions. The position looked weird but he didn't seem to mind.

"Ah, this" he pointed at his leg nonchalantly, as if it was the most normal thing "Yeah, it's okay. Had to get the surgery done in order to make it to the next Olympic"

Nodding, you looked around. His apartment wasn't as big as you had expected. In fact, the three of you stood closely together in the living room, a bit too small for all the gear Hansol said he needed.

"Put your things down, let's talk. I don't know how this is going to work"

Me neither, you wanted to say but kept your mouth shut. Thankfully, Seungkwan was there to help you.

"Before we start any real interview or conversation, I think we have to tell you that this was very last minute for us. We only heard about this documentary yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon" he used his kindest voice, his voice laced with concern and a hit of fear, maybe "yn is in charge, she's the documentarist, she'll be asking the questions and dictating the overall direction that we're going to take with the documentary. I'm Seungkwan and that's Hansol. This is the smallest crew he could assemble"

Seungkwan was giving too many explanations, you felt. But he also wasn't wrong. What he did was normal, he was just introducing the crew. Maybe you were a little irritated by the way you were tossed into this job, without someone giving you enough time to prepare. Sixteen hours were barely enough.

"I assume my… reputation has gotten to you," Jeonghan said, a small smile on his lips.

A reputation he had indeed. Jeonghan was known for not liking the press and journalists. He avoided them at all costs and once, on one occasion, was seen being rude. And honestly, you had to give him a pass for it. Pushing the camera away from his face, almost delicately, could barely be considered rude at such a moment. There were way too many cameras around, all of them on his face, trying to get some sort of pronouncement on why he had not made it to the podium.

And that had been years before but people still remembered him by that one moment. But what exactly did they expect? He underperformed, came in fourth place, and injured himself in the process. Was anyone expecting a happy and bright Jeonghan?

"You can be comfortable around me. A conversation like this is fine. I just don't like being swarmed"

Though his words were inviting, his face told a whole different story. He clearly didn't want this documentary.

"All of our interactions will be recorded," you told him, not leaving room for arguments on his end "These first few minutes aren't, out of courtesy and so that we can set our goals. I need to know if you're uncomfortable with anything, or something that you don't want to be filmed, either right now or before we turn the cameras on. Once we start, we won't stop"

Jeonghan adjusted his position on the couch, his eyes never leaving you. It was like he was measuring your every move. He didn't like your tone, and how aggressive you were towards him.

"I know this was last minute and I apologize for that. This is going to be my last run and, as much as I hate to admit, I'm a bit sensitive to it.

With furrowed eyebrows, you nodded. Jeonghan knew that you didn't believe him or that you cared about his reasons. He knew that the sole reason you were there was because someone made you.

"Will you need to film my family?"

"Yes, usually film family members to get a complete idea of someone's life"

Turning around you nodded at Hansol, telling him to start setting up. With a shake of his head, Seungkwan moved to help him.

"I don't want my family to know the extent of my injuries. So if you only want them for context, to know about me as a child, that's fine. But they can't know anything about this" Jeonghan pointed at his leg "I've been hiding this for a very long time and I'd like to keep it that way"

You dropped your bag on the couch, eyes tired and mind filled with one too many thoughts. The day had been easier than you expected, far more so.

Based on Seungkwan's words you had expected to fight with Jeonghan in a way. It was a documentary so you needed him to talk and talk he did. There was no question unanswered or dodged, all of his answers were precise and consistent. All of it had sounded fake like he had rehearsed them a million times.

Even if you thought that your question had been good, and had caught him off guard, Jeonghan seemed to be fully prepared for it. He didn't hesitate for a second.

In the few hours you spent around him, you finally managed to understand the fascination most people had with him. He was handsome, yes, but that was just the very basic and surface level of him. Beyonce that he was also good with his words. It was hard to tell that he was lying because he talked with conviction. After just one interview you were sure that if one day Jeonghan decided to tell you that your mom wasn’t actually your mother, you’d somehow believe him.

And the man knew all of it. He was aware of his beauty and charm, of what it did to normal people, and he used it in his favor. Jeonghan knew that most people couldn’t resist a handsome talented man. And that was a part he was all too willing to fill.

“Yeah,” you answered your phone, not bothering to see who it was, certain that it was just Jihoon.

“How was it today?” he sounded just as tired as you felt and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was okay.

“Fine”

“Just fine?”

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling, or at least whatever you could see with the lights turned off - not a whole lot, to be honest.

“He lied through his teeth today. There was no manager, and no coach around, though I do remember him saying someone would come. The person never showed up” you sighed “Seungkwan hates and Vernon probably thinks I’m a crazy bitch. So yeah, just fine”

Jihoon laughed on the other side of the line and you felt the little butterflies in your stomach come to life. You rolled your eyes at yourself. How pathetic it was of you, to have a crush on your boss. How very much bland of you.

Growing up, like a lot of girls that were influenced by way too much TV, you had wanted the be the odd one out. The I’m one of the guys kind of girl, or the one who refused to wear any kind of makeup or even come close to the pink because that was just girly for you. And now there you were, in love with the color pink, finding excuses to wear pretty dresses, and having a crush on your boss.

Teenage you would throw eggs at your head if she had the chance.

“Okay, but how was Jeonghan?” Jihoon pressed even further.

You sighed and closed your eyes, covering over face with your hand.

“He was polite, answered all of my questions, had a pleasant smile the entire time, and only asked for a bathroom break while we were there. Offered us food and drinks. He was fine” you said again, emphasizing the fine.

You could picture Jihoon, nodding his head and looking at the floor, probably thinking of what to ask next.

“Why would Seungkwan hate you? And why would Vernon think you’re a bitch?”

“Seungkwan thinks I went too hard on Jeonghan and Vernon just trusts Seungkwan’s judgment and goes with it”

Jihoon laughed again and you heard him moving around.

“Classic yn, going at someone while she’s angry. At least your anger was sort of directed to the right person”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you sat up.

You liked to think that you didn’t act that way all the time. In your mind, most of the time, you were able to hide your anger and just play nice like your mother had taught you to be. Jihoon’s words told a completely different story.

“Have some rest, there’s still a lot of work to do. Tomorrow you’re going with him to rehab, right?” Jihoon paused for a second and you heard a female voice in the back, you couldn’t make out what she said but you were sure of who it belonged to “I have to go. We’ll talk next week”

The line was disconnected and leaned back on the couch again. The problem of having a crush on your boss was also the fact that he had a long-time girlfriend and soon he was supposed to be marrying her.

You groaned, wondering if you had gone far enough that there was no going back from this crush.

You sat across from Jeonghan once again, the position exactly the same as the first day. But this time you chose to be less irritable.

The other day you were frustrated because you had to give up other projects to be able to accompany Jeonghan and that, thinking rationally, had nothing to do with him. He asked for a specific documentary filmmaker profile and you were chosen by the studio. Maybe it was more your fault than his. But it was also a no-return kind of situation. The job was assigned to you and there was nothing you could do to change it. So the least you could do was do your best and pray that it didn’t take a turn for the worse.

And, if anything, the conversation with Jihoon helped you focus on work. It wouldn't be the first time you were doing something you didn't want to do and it certainly wouldn't be the last. So you decided that the best thing to do was just work, showing your professional side that had been left aside before.

Jeonghan looked at you the same way, eyes serious as if he was ready for a new attack.

"Thank you," he said to Vernon, who had just placed the microphone inside his jacket, so that he could pick up the sound well, but it was not visible to the camera.

You turned to Seungkwan and Vernon, waiting for confirmation from the two that you could begin. You received a wave from each of them after they checked that the cameras were on and recording.

You took a deep breath and turned to Jeonghan.

"I wanted to apologize for yesterday," you said "I wasn't fair to you. I was irritated by things that had nothing to do with you, but I somehow decided that they did"

Everyone in Jeonghan's living room seemed to hold their breath, you included. You didn't know what to expect from Jeonghan, not really. You had been anything but ungracious with him, in a way that to most people meant that any door between you two had closed.

Jeonghan decided, at that moment, that he had two options: a) he could let the previous day dictate how all interactions between the two of you from then on would be, and it would be many months of a bad relationship that would bring no benefit to anyone involved in it; or b) he could accept your apology, which seemed sincere enough, and let go of the discomfort he felt.

Option b was actually the only possible choice.

“Okay” he finally smiled “my reputation isn’t the best, either way”

Seungkwan and Vernon breathed a sigh of relief. It was as if a huge gray cloud had moved away and the weather was beginning to clear.

“No, your reputation had no influence. I was the one who lost my hand because of my problems and for that, I apologize” you said and you were sincere in your words “But Jeonghan, I need you to stop seeing me as your enemy. I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

“You think I wasn’t honest?” he tilted his head as if analyzing you.

“In the same way that you don't want your reputation to affect the way I see you, I need you to not let the way you see other journalists affect the way you see me. I want to tell your story, however you want it told, but I need you to be honest with me.”

You hoped Jeonghan could understand what you were saying.

He was silent for a minute, his eyes fixed on his hands. His hair covered his face, so it was hard to get an idea of what was going through his head.

You looked at Seungkwan, seeking confirmation that you hadn’t been rude. He seemed to be as lost as you were, but the small smile he gave you was enough to make your restless heart rest for a second.

“What if I say something and regret it later?”

It was the first time Jeonghan looked insecure and it was a strange sight, but much more realistic than the other version of him.

“We can edit it, it’s not a problem. I said that because I was angry” you said apologetically once again.

“Can we throw it all away and start again?”

Jeonghan smiled and you had no choice but to smile along with him.

“Let’s start with what’s happening now,” you said, folding your legs under your body, notebook open to a blank page and a pen ready to take notes “You underwent surgery not long ago, right? Why?"

Jeonghan took a deep breath, eyes closed for a second before placing all his attention on you. His gaze was almost too intense. You had to force yourself not to look anywhere but at him.

“A few years ago I fell during training and twisted my ankle. At the time, it wasn't a big deal and if I had stayed quiet for a few weeks, and did everything right, I wouldn't have had any problems. But I couldn't do it, I was preparing for a competition. I didn't tell anyone about the problem and just endured the pain. When I participated in the competition I fell again and that only made the situation worse. Today I have a problem with my ligament and tendon.”

With every word that left his mouth, you felt like a lump was forming in your throat, and with every second it was getting bigger.

Unlike the day before, it didn't seem like Jeonghan was lying, but you didn't know if you wanted the truth he was sharing. Even if it was a lie, a character he had created, the version of Jeonghan from before was a little brighter, a little more present in the moment. The version of him that was in front of you, that you imagined to be the closest to reality, was almost sad, detached from everything.

“Because I forced my right knee a lot, trying to compensate for the lack of my left one, I developed a problem with that one too”

“You’ve never talked about your injuries before, right?” he nodded “Why talk now?”

He was silent again, his lower lip caught between his teeth. That was a great question, one that not even Jeonghan himself knew exactly how to answer.

“I'm not sure, to be honest” he laughed a little. Instead of looking directly at the camera, his eyes were focused on you “Someone came up with the idea at some point and it didn't seem like a bad one, but I think it will only work if I make it to the Olympics.”

“Is that the ultimate goal then, to get to the Olympics?”

He shook his head, that fearless, confident look you had only seen in photos finally making itself known.

“No, the ultimate goal is to win”

As promised, Jeonghan waited for you, Seungkwan, and Vernon outside the clinic. He was nowhere to be seen, really, but the car his assistant informed you of was parked right in front of the door.

You were the first one to exit your own car, while Seungkwan and Vernon prepared the camera to follow along. You could only assume he was the manager. Terribly young for a manager, sure, but a manager nonetheless.

“I assume you’re in” he extended a hand to you “I’m Joshua”

“Hi”

The exchange of words with Joshua was quick, no more than half a dozen. You didn't have much to talk about with him and he wasn't your priority, at least not at the moment. Later, at some other time, talking to him would be great. He had introduced himself as a friend/manager of Jeonghan. Having his point of view would be great and could contribute a lot, but your eyes couldn't leave Jeonghan.

His hair was tied back, but a cap covered much of his face. He had barely said hi to you or the other two. It wasn't a big surprise. While it was true that made up to a certain extent, you didn't expect him to simply welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was strange - or as strange as the reaction of a person you knew little, or nothing, could be.

“Can we film it?” You asked.

Jeonghan stopped and turned towards you. He had forgotten that you and your team would attend his first physical therapy session, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Since the last time you saw each other, Jeonghan spent hours on end watching documentaries made by you and they all had one thing in common: they were almost like video logs. You followed everyone around documenting every tiny aspect of their lives. All those people told their stories and didn't seem afraid of having their lives exposed. And perhaps for people who didn't lead lives where they had been exposed too much, sincerity came easily.

For Jeonghan, that was never the case.

Being treated as the future, a promise of the sport, had brought a lot of harm and situations that neither he, nor anyone else, had the option to deal with or even, perhaps, ignore.

Cameras were pointed at him, rumors spread and suddenly he wasn't just Yoon Jeonghan, the boy who started skating because it would annoy his little sister. He became someone from whom people expected something.

As much as he could, Jeonghan tried to live up to all of those expectations, realistic or not. He tried to be as perfect as possible, on the ice and off of it. And it only took one day of silence, a few rude unanswered questions, and one bad performance — which had no real effect — for everything to collapse.

“You said you would film anything and everything.”

You grimaced, clearly regretful and maybe even a little embarrassed. It wasn't his intention, but he found your reaction funny anyway.

In your place, Jeonghan would have done much worse.

“Do you think it’s important?”

You nodded, perhaps more forcefully than necessary. Jeonghan laughed, he wanted to hold your head to make sure it was still in the right place.

“The documentary is about your return, so filming you here is important. I asked because it's your first session. I heard it can be painful.”

“It will probably be uncomfortable” he couldn’t deny that “Let’s do it like this, you can record it, if in the end you think it’s bad or that it doesn’t fit, we won’t use it

You quietly followed Jeonghan and Joshua out of the clinic, Seungkwan and Vernon trailing behind you talking in hushed tones. It was no surprise that they were talking. Truth was rehab had been brutal. You knew that it could get hard for Jeonghan, that it could be painful but nothing really prepared you for what you saw. And if it was hard for you to watch him go through that, it was unimaginable to understand how it was for him.

Throughout the entire session, Jeonghan looked in pain, his grunts and the scowl on his face growing with each passing second and new movement. Midway through you told Seungkwan and Vernon to stop filming. You had seen enough and you had more than what you needed for the documentary.

You would only film his rehab again when he was no longer in such pain, you decided. Out of the many things you learned about Jeonghan was that showing his weaknesses wasn’t something he was too fond of or even comfortable with the idea of it. So there was no real reason to keep recording and you couldn’t stand it either.

While you watched his face contort in pain, you felt something inside your chest tighten.

It had never been a real issue before with you. You had always managed to separate your personal emotions from the things you felt while working. More often than not you told stories that were hard to listen to, took someone’s suffering, and put it on the TV for the entire world to see in hopes that maybe a part of their lives would be changed. You had always been able to detach yourself from that.

However while inside with Jeonghan, such a thing was not possible. You felt your throat constrict and your eyes grow wet and for a short while, you couldn’t breathe either. It made no sense really. Why did it hurt to see this man, you knew nothing about, in pain to the point you wanted to cry? Why did it sadden you so much that he was limping harder than before?

You wanted to approach him, ask if he was okay, if it had been too much. But it was out of line, it was one that you knew you shouldn’t cross. There was this itch though, in the back of your mind, begging you to just ask, to just take a step closer to him.

It happened so suddenly that you didn’t even see it happening. One second it was just the five of you in the parking lot, in the next there were reporters with mics and cameras pointed at Jeonghan. You noticed how Jeonghan raised his shoulders at the same time he lowered his head. He couldn’t see in front of himself, you were certain.

Joshua put an arm around Jeonghan’s shoulder while he used the other one to keep them away from him. Not that it was of any use. One of the cameras was directly under his face as if trying to get an expression, anything at all, that could show his discomfort with the situation. From somewhere behind you there were flashes.

"Do you believe your injury was a result of your own carelessness?" someone asked.

You felt your blood run cold for a second and you froze in place, Seungkwan and Vernon behind you.

"Do you think your skating career is over after such devastating injuries?" someone followed.

"Did you regret pushing yourself so hard during training, knowing it led to your injury?"

"How did it feel to watch other skaters progress while you were stuck in rehab?"

"Are you worried that your injury will define your career more than your achievements on the ice?"

The questions got progressively worse and you wanted to scream at them to just shut up, and stop. How could they just ambush someone like that with those questions? It made no sense at all. And though you knew that it would cause more harm than good you wished Jeonghan would tell them all to fuck off.

Instead, he kept his head low and just slowly walked to his car while ignoring everyone around him, all the careless words being thrown at him.

You tried to take a step forward but were held back by Seungkwan, who gripped the strap of your purse. He didn’t say a word, just shook his head.

“They can’t just do that to him” you almost cried

“If you say anything, it might only make matters worse,” Hansol said, his voice sad.

That sudden need to protect Jeonghan felt weird but oddly natural as well. Weird because you knew that you shouldn’t, because you hardly knew the guy. Natural because it felt as if you had always done that like it was just second nature to you.

“He is used to this,” Seungkwan said, still not letting go of your purse.

“He shouldn’t be! They are barely treating him like a human!”

By the time you turned around, Jeonghan was already inside the car leaving the parking lot.

The clock on the top of your phone screen told you that it was 4:37 am. You hadn't even realized that you had spent so many hours still awake.

As soon as you got home from the rehab with Jeonghan, you took a quick shower, ate the leftovers from the night before, and started to look up Jeonghan’s performances.

The man was a celebrity amongst athletes since he was a child. He was always seen as a promise of the sport. He was good from the start. Performing moves that he was still too young to do, entering competitions boys his age never really competed in and somehow managing to either come up to the podium or even winning some of them.

Everything was displayed online. Yearly competitions, practices, and small moments of his life.

Jeonghan's entire life, at least the sports part, was exposed on the internet for anyone, from anywhere in the world, to see. And it wasn't just the competitions, having videos of that part seemed completely normal and expected.

What was scary was all the other content. Some photos of him in school uniform, not one where he was actually looking at the camera, but ones that were clearly taken in secret. Another one from when he seemed to have simply gone out for coffee with Joshua.

You knew he had fans, that he was liked wherever he went, and that he was always followed, but that seemed a bit much.

In reality, watching videos of the competitions was like a gateway to everything that came after.

You knew very little about Jeonghan, only what you had read about in all the articles that you found and all of them had one thing in common: Jeonghan was a huge diva, who thought he was superior to everyone. But after seeing how he had been treated that day, as soon as he got out of rehab, you knew it wasn't like that. It was as if they had appeared out of nowhere, one second the parking lot was empty and the next it was full of journalists, shouting things and asking questions that to many would seem harmless, but were clearly intended to hurt.

Instead of watching more competition videos, not that there were many you hadn't watched yet, you decided to look for the famous video of him treating journalists badly.

You had never found one so easily on the internet. You just typed "Jeonghan and journalists" into the search bar and it was the first video to appear.

It was a scene very similar to the previous day. Jeonghan was in the parking lot, walking towards the guy when he was surrounded by several journalists.

"You didn't get the podium today, are you disappointed?" one of them asked and that was the most harmless question he got. “Did you really try hard or did you think you would get a high score because you were the favorite?” “Why did you fall in such a simple jump?” “Don't you think it was an amateur's performance?”

You didn't want to keep listening to all those meaningless questions, but you couldn't take your eyes off Jeonghan. He still had short hair at the time, even covering his eyebrows. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hard, and his gaze was focused straight ahead, as he walked slowly to his car. Joshua tried as best he could to control the journalists with their microphones and cameras, but he was just one man against many. Finally, after what felt like ages, two security guards appeared, pushing the journalists away as they began shouting profanities in Jeonghan's direction.

Could those people even consider themselves journalists? Real journalists, who took their work seriously?

There is a very fine line between being a journalist who asks incisive questions and one who is completely disrespectful to the athlete. And those people were anything but professional.

It was no surprise that after that Jeonghan refused to give interviews.

That whole situation happened years before, at the beginning of the previous Olympic cycle, but even so, it was still a moment that haunted him. People remembered him as just that guy, someone who refused to answer simple questions. But what exactly did these people expect? That he was all smiles when he failed to reach the podium, even though he was the favorite in the competition? That he smiles when he hurts?

Finally, you managed to understand why he acted that way, and why his answers were so polite and direct. Jeonghan didn't want to leave room for interpretation. Not that he had much of a choice. People only see what they want to see, but that didn't mean he couldn't try.

Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes away from your back, he followed your every move. You stood next to Joshua, talking to him quietly, his friend showing you something on his phone. He felt something scratch at his neck. This new and unknown feeling.

It was unusual for Jeonghan, to want to have someone’s undivided attention. It was usually the other way around and he was never willing to do it, with anyone. And then there you were and suddenly he didn’t like that you were talking with Joshua.

It wasn’t like you seemed to be having fun either. You moved around with intention, your eyes always focused, your words and questions firm and straight to the point. Jeonghan couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like that with you. If your professional persona always took over who you were in other moments.

His curiosity was huge but his courage to ask was very little.

“She may seem like it, but she won’t bite your head off if you talk with her,” someone said on his left.

Seungkwan stood at his side, his hands clasped in front of him while he rocked on his heels.

“I think she will,” Jeonghan said.

Seungkwan took his reply as an invitation to sit.

“You know, in the office, people call her the ice queen” he too looked in your direction, at your serious expression "She’s like that most of the time”

Jeonghan looked at Seungkwan expectantly, he knew there was a but coming soon. All he needed to do was wait long enough.

“She didn’t want to take this job, our boss forced her to. She’s more into storytelling, real people, with real issues”

“Am I not a real person?”

The offense in Jeonghan’s voice made Seungkwan almost fall off his chair. He didn’t intend for his words to sound like that.

“Of course you are” he laughed nervously while trying to explain it as best as he could “If it were up to her, she would focus this documentary on you, on how you started skating, why, what attracted you to it, how it affected the rest of your life. But your team doesn’t want that, I think. We were told that you already gave many interviews on the matter so there’s no point in talking about it again. They want us to focus on your recovery and then you make it to the Olympics. She’s trying to figure out how to do that in a way that makes someone watch it”

Jeonghan nodded, feeling guilty. It had been his request to not the documentary so focused on the past and more on what was happening in the moment

“She also doesn’t like sports and hated the idea of the job, but that's beside the point”

Both of them laughed, eyes still on your back now that you talked with Vernon, giving him new instructions.

“I’ll make sure that she gets to do the kind of documentary she thinks is best”

Seungkwan stood up, a big smile on his lips.

“Who could have known that the ice queen and the ice prince aren’t actually that cold”

After months of just rehab, it’s finally time for Jeonghan to get back on the ice and it pained you a little to admit that you were looking forward to it. The videos you watched could only take you so far, you wanted to actually see the real thing. Him, in action.

Of course, you know that he wasn’t going to be able to do a third of the things he did on those videos. But you wanted to see him in his element, how he would behave when he was finally around the thing he loved the most in the world — his words, not yours.

The one thing you were able to learn from Jeonghan was the fact that he indeed loved what he did. Like most people, sometimes he hated it. It was the thing he was most passionate about, yes, but it was also his job, so there were days when he just hated and the mere idea of leaving the house was too much.

It was too hard to be a professional athlete, it demanded way too much of him. Of anyone, really. Sometimes he wanted to be like everyone else and just not put everything he was into it. But if he did that, he lost one single day, he was scared that he could lose an entire year and maybe that year turned into two and then he could lose his chance to go to the Olympics.

And he only had one change left.

So, instead of focusing on much he didn’t want to do, Jeonghan decided to focus on the fact that there was only a year ahead of him and he would be able to do whatever he wanted and have as many down days as he wanted.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do and what would be the after for him but it gave him something to look forward to.

“Are you nervous?” you asked him.

Jeonghan was someone who was mostly quiet. You noticed that once he started to feel more comfortable he was one to start the conversation and even crack a few jokes here and there. Seungkwan had been the first person he kind of opened up to, which had left you a hint of jealousy. You wanted to be one he talked with mostly because it was your job but also just because.

However, he had been especially quiet that day. The three of you went to meet him at his apartment. The idea was that you’d follow him the entire day, from the moment he woke up, to when he went to the doctor to get the final clear and then finally to the ring.

He had talked very little, his eyes always focused somewhere else. It was clear that his mind was traveling somewhere far, far away. So you left him be, quietly watching him just move around. A silent shooting day, you told yourself In the end, however, you had a job and he needed to do the talking.

“It’s been too long,” he said, his eyes never really leaving the ice “I don’t know if I can still do it”

You laughed, causing him to finally look at you, eyes wide on his face. He tried to look serious but the corners of his lips were turned slightly up.

“You just don’t feel confident, but you didn’t forget it” you looked at his ankle, it was still weird to see him without any sort of protection around it “How’s your ankle?”

He just shook his head and in that moment you chose to believe that he was said It doesn’t bother me anymore.

Through the interviews, you found out that Jeonghan is the kind of person to suffer in silence. It was clear from all of his previous injuries, how he competed while in pain and only ever said anything when it was almost too late.

“Do you think I can still do it?”

There was something in his voice like he was almost on the verge of breaking. He sounded vulnerable in a way that was entirely too new, in a way you wanted to push Vernon and his camera away because that was a part of him you knew he didn’t want the world to see.

Instead, you reached for his arm, patting it a couple of times, hoping that your touch, as ungraceful and awkward as it was, was able to soothe him, even if it was just for a moment.

“I was watching some of your competitions last night, again, you know? And that guy? He’s still in there, I’m sure of it, I’ve seen him”

You weren’t just saying that to cheer him up, your words were true. You had seen that version of him, little glimpses here and there. He was in the way his eyes suddenly changed and it was like he owned the entire room, in the way he suddenly turned confident, in the way he was charming in a way that was almost sickening but all too enchanting either way.

Whether or not he believed it himself, Yoon Jeonghan was a force to be reckoned with.

"What kind of kid were you?" you asked, looking up at Jeonghan.

He sat opposite to you, bent down to tie the laces on his skates. His hair covered his face, you were sure that he couldn't see much, but he didn't seem bothered by it in the least. Maybe he had just gotten used to it.

Four months had gone by since you started to follow Jeonghan and even before that, he had kept his hair long. And you hated to admit that he looked good, too good even.

"What kind do you think I was?" He smirked at you for a second before going back to his skates.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn't help but smile.

"This is not how it works. I ask the questions here"

Jeonghan leaned back on his seat, giving you his full attention. His smirk did something to your insides. It felt tight and loose at the same time, like wild butterflies running around on your skin.

"Come on, humor me"

You pretended to be in deep thought, Jeonghan as a child had been something you thought about for a long time now. Even though he was very serious most of the time there were these small moments where he looked like a kid ready to do something he wasn't supposed to.

"I can only think of you as a troublemaker” you smiled, closing your notes knowing well that you’d make no progress at all with the filming “I’ve seen pictures of you and a child and although you looked very cute, I’m sure you were a handful to your mother”

Jeonghan laughed, throwing his head back and in that moment he looked so carefree.

Even since the start of the documentary Jeonghan had used his most serious expressions, a frown always taking over his beautiful features. But he had been back on the ice for a few days already and in those days he had looked the happiest you had seen him yet.

Of course, he still hasn’t practiced the way he wanted or the way he used to. He still needed to take things slowly: fewer hours, less power in the movements. But it was undeniable that he was a completely different person.

It wasn’t that he had been in a bad mood every single day but there was just something about him in his element, of him doing something he was obviously passionate about, that was so enchanting that it became impossible to look away from him.

“Where did you see those pictures?”

“You do know that I had to google you because I had no idea who you were, right?”

One thing you managed to learn about Jeonghan is the fact that, if in the right mood, he is a trickster and most of all, a flit. You weren’t even sure that he was aware of what he was doing, it seemed like second nature to him.

He put a hand over his chest, faking being in pain. His face contorted and a pout on his lips.

“I thought we were getting to know each other”.

Seungkwan coughed by your side, finally making you remember that there were people around you and that the entire interaction between you and Jeonghan was being recorded.

There was something about Jeonghan that always seemed to make you forget where you were, that maybe there were people around you. You could only suppose that it was the charm of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who knew how to sweet talk someone.

And Jeonghan knew what he was doing, what kind of words or looks could get a reaction from a woman.

Most of the time while around Jeonghan you had to remind your heart to be calm and quiet. Being around him was a temporary arrangement, as soon as the Olympics started said arrangement would be done and you’d have to go back to your normal life. One that didn’t include Yoon Jeonghan. And you also knew that there wasn’t space for you in his life.

“We’re going to set up the cameras around the ice,” Seungkwan said awkwardly while dragging Verno by the hand.

You watched as the two walked away from you, whispering in secrecy. You could only imagine the kind of things that they were saying. If you knew Seungkwan at all, you were certain that it couldn’t be any good.

“Jeonghan, I ask questions and you answer them. And while one could say that I’m getting to know you, I don’t think it would be possible to say the same thing about me”

Jeongahn's smile was defiant when he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have a no-bullshit policy, which I should have known, from the start, but I wasn’t expecting someone like you. Although you try really hard to pretend that you’re not, your eyes are kind and you quietly take care of those around you, me included sometimes. You got worried when I was in pain in rehab and when Vernon got hurt it seemed as if you were angry, but you were concerned about him and after that, you asked to have another staff with you so that he wouldn’t need to carry so many things on his own. You and Seungkwan bicker a lot but when he isn’t around for a day you are quieter and your questions have been more direct. That doesn’t make you a lousy documentarist, please don’t think that I’m saying that, you take your job very seriously. I’m saying that you put people above your job. I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to become a documentarist, to begin with, to tell stories”

You stared at him, mouth open wondering just how he had come up with all of that and why he had managed to hit everything right on the stop. Especially the reason why you became a documentarist. It seemed very obvious, yes, but it wasn’t something that you had said.

In fact, your personal life was something that very few people knew. You weren’t one to share your thoughts and what was on your mind with people. Seungkwan was a good friend, but he was a work friend so your personal life was just that, personal. Not that you had someone to share it with, either way.

The apartment was empty when you left and it was in the exact same way and you got back. You were on your own, with no parents, no siblings and most of your friends had given up on you somewhere along the way.

For the longest time, you put your job first. It came before anything and anyone. You were building your career and name at the time so it was hard not to put it first. It was your dream, one that your friends supported at first but were displeased when you decided to put it first.

You had thought that if you made it big on your job if you got hired by a big production company, you’d be able to find the happiness that you had searched for a long time. And while some of it was true, your career was on the right path and you did something you loved, you didn’t have a lot more beyond that going one.

It was become just you and your job.

Was it sad? Yes, but it was also the life you chose.

“Just because I don’t know details of your life, doesn’t mean that I don’t watch you, yn”

You watched as Jeonghan fell for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It didn't make sense, not really. At least not for you. And from the looks of it, for him too.

He was frustrated and completely angry. All those people looking at him, expectations high, waiting for something. He wasn't sure what. For him to fail? To see if he still could do it?

Everything was possible and impossible at the same time.

He couldn't stop his eyes from going after you every time you fell. Somehow, your reaction was the only one that mattered to him. The first few times your face was completely emotionless, as if you were staring at a blank wall. Then Jeonghan fell once again, and again, and again. He stopped counting at 10, but he knew it was much more than that actually. But your gaze, which was fixed on him, became more worried as the minutes passed and he hated being the cause of it.

Somehow, since he met you, only two things were on Jeonghan's mind: skating and you.

He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but you had taken over his every thought. It was as if you had walked through an imaginary door and entered his mind and decided that it was a great place to be.

Even on days when you didn't see each other because there was no recording, he was tempted to talk to you. And on one of those days, he just succumbed to the temptation of picking up the phone and calling you.

“Jeonghan, is everything okay?” was the first thing you said.

He hated that worry was the first emotion he awakened in you. He hated that the first thing you said wasn't "hello" like a normal person. But at the same time, the concern made him feel somehow welcomed. It could, of course, be all in his head, and what he saw as concern for himself was actually concern for the documentary.

"I just wanted to talk," he admitted.

Maybe it was because he had gotten used to talking to you, maybe it was because you offered zero judgment for the way he thought or reacted. Or maybe it was because it was you. Whatever it was, Jeonghan felt comfortable talking to you.

Telling the truth, about everything, was not difficult, in fact, it became something very easy. It was because of you, he knew.

"I realized I don't know anything about you"

You laughed and he listened as you moved through what he imagined to be his apartment.

"That's because I interview you and not the other way around"

He sat on the bed, his legs stretched out in front of him as he supported the rest of his weight on his arms stretched behind him.

"Do you think it's so bad that I know anything about you?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, seeming to think about the idea. It wasn't bad, not at all.

At several moments you found yourself with your cell phone in your hand, ready to send a message or call him. You weren’t sure what, but there was something about Jeonghan that just made you want to tell him everything.

"What do you want to know?" you said with a sigh.

"Whatever you want to share"

The great truth is that very little happened in your life. You lived alone, worked every day, and came home alone. Your last boyfriend, or even a fling, was over a year before. Your friends, if you could call them that, were all from work. Your life was quite still and dull. Even if you wanted to talk about work. Jeonghan was your job. There wasn't much to talk about.

"I don't think I have much to tell" you knew that what you were about to say wasn't the happiest topic in the world, but it was what you had to offer "My mother passed away when I was nineteen, since then I've been alone"

You could still clearly remember the day your father left. There wasn't a fight. He never packed his bag and left. One day he was there when you woke up, he gave you breakfast and took you to school, like he did on most days. But it was his job to pick you up and he never showed up. Your mother showed up instead, her eyes swollen as she did her smile to smile at you and explain to the teacher why she was so late. When you finally got home she said "Now it's just you and me. Daddy had to leave"

For months, years even, you waited for him to come back. You thought one day he would just appear in front of you. You were disappointed when it was your mother who showed up to pick you up when he didn't come to his birthdays when you called the number he had left with his mother and he never answered.

You waited until you turned 18 to go after him. You only had a name, but with that alone, a person can find everything on the internet. You found him in another state, working at a real estate agency. You sat down in front of him and talked for about half an hour. You made up a story about going to college and needing a place to live. You said your name and your mother's name several times, surname and everything, and at no point did he seem to connect one thing to the other. Until the last second, when you said you would think about renting the studio he had suggested, and he walked you to the door. He said, "I left for a reason, don't come back here."

You couldn't believe what you had heard. You couldn't understand why he left and why he never came back. But at that moment you decided that if he didn't want you, you didn't need him. Your mother had worked so hard to make sure you had everything you needed.

Exactly one year later, your mother died in a bizarre car accident. It was like being 7 years old again and losing another person, only in a much more painful way.

"You don’t have any siblings?" Jeonghan's voice on the other end brought you back "Relatives?"

You shook her head, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I was an only child, so no siblings. My mom was an orphan so relatives either. My father left when I was a child"

You and Jeonghan spent the whole night on the phone, talking about everything and nothing. From trivial things to more personal matters. His delight upon learning that you didn’t have a boyfriend didn’t go unnoticed.

Calls and messages became commonplace between the two of you. Your heart raced every time a new message arrived and it was hard to hide your disappointment when you realized it wasn't from him. On days when you didn't see each other, you would stare at your phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for him to call.

So you hoped he understood when you shook your head in his direction, a request written on your face. That's enough for today, you can try more tomorrow, you hoped he would understand.

Instead of trying one more time after he fell once again, he skated to the edge of the ice. His face was red from the effort, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm trying to force air back into his lungs.

"I want everyone out," he said, his voice broken.

Seungkwan and Vernon didn't even question it, they simply started putting away the equipment. Jihoon, who had shown up unexpectedly to "supervise" didn't seem to understand what was going on, but turned to help Vernon.

Jeonghan's coach was the only one who approached him, his hand on the athlete's shoulder.

"Go home, rest. Tomorrow we try again"

Jeonghan shook his head. He would only get out of there after managing to make the damn jump, even if he had to stay the whole night.

"Just half an hour more, but I want to be alone"

The coach clearly didn't like the idea, but he knew it was stupid to try and make Jeonghan change his mind.

You turned to him, looking at his face, trying to figure out if he was in pain or if he was just being a big blockhead. Without giving yourself the luxury of thinking about what you were doing, you placed your hand over Jeonghan's and squeezed for a second. You hoped he understood what you meant.

"You have to rest"

You knew everyone was watching, that despite saying they were leaving they weren't actually moving. Jeonghan didn't seem to care and for a moment you decided not to care either.

“Stay,” he said softly, so only you could hear him “please.”

Some strands of hair were stuck to Jeonghan's face, you wanted to get them out of his face, but caution spoke louder. You looked over your shoulder and everyone was still looking at the two of you, but as soon as they noticed your gaze they started moving again. Seungkwan shouted “We’re leaving” and seconds later the door slammed.

Finally, you were alone.

“You have to rest,” you said again.

You took advantage of the fact that no one else was there and removed the strands of hair stuck to his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. Jeonghan sighed, his eyes closing as he leaned towards you. Just that little touch wasn't enough.

“I need to get it right”

"If you stop now and rest you will know what you are doing wrong"

A half smile shined on Jeonghan's face as he leaned further into the barrier, his face just inches away from his.

"My ego loves it when you say I'm doing something wrong”

You pushed him back, needing a little bit more space to yourself. He was too close, you could feel his breath on your nose and cheeks. It was suddenly as if the world was made of Yoon Jeonghan, it was just him and no one else.

“I’m sure your ego will be just fine”

Instead of pulling your hand back, you allowed it to stay in his chest. Jeonghan smiled for a second before pressing his hand over yours.

“Just another 30 minutes” he repeated what he said to his coach “I promise I’ll stop in precisely 30 minutes”

You nodded with a sigh. There was nothing you could do to stop him. Something told you that even if you threatened him to leave he would stay and practice, he would stay on the ice for far more than just 30 minutes if you weren’t around.

So you sat down and waited for him. And he fell time and time again, his face growing displeased with himself at each passing second, each time he jumped but didn't manage to land.

Jeonghan had done that same jump countless times before with ease as if one's body would simply perform such movements. To him, it always seemed as easy as walking. You had seen it in all of his videos, almost in trance by him.

“If you’re not done in twenty-one minutes” you pretended to look at your imaginary watch “I’m taking you out of there by force”

Jeonghan threw his head back, laughing.

“Remember when you said that you never skated before?” Jeonghan asked after finally being able to breathe properly again.

You weren’t too sure how, but he had stopped after 30 minutes. A big smile on his face after he managed to land the jump after so many tries. After getting it right once, he didn’t get it wrong again. It was like something clicked inside his brain as if he had found the last missing piece of the puzzle.

Of all the things you said to Jeonghan, from the most personal to the most trivial, that was, by far, the only one you regretted. You had told him over the phone but he looked horrified, it was easy to imagine the wide eyes on his face.

But him standing there, in front of you, with a smile that could only be seen on the face of a mischievous child, said much more than any words he could utter.

“No,” you said, shaking your head, already moving back.

You had learned several peculiarities about Jeonghan in all the months you spent by his side, and one of the most glaring was the look in his eyes when he was about to do something he shouldn't.

“You have to try, at least once” his lips were a mixture of a smile and a pout “You will have the best teacher in the world”

You saw it and shook your head again.

“I can’t trust a teacher who spent the day falling” you pointed to the rink behind him.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You didn't know if your words would offend him, you hoped he knew it wasn't your intention. But you also knew that hell was paved with good intentions. Jeonghan was silent for a minute, his face serious, his eyes not leaving yours for an entire minute.

Then he smiled, his nose wrinkling a little as he laughed, loudly. It didn't take long for you to join him.

“You’re evil,” he said, trying to control himself, but failing “This way you’re going to break my heart”

“I think there are few things in this world that can break your heart.”

You would definitely be one of them, Jeonghan wanted to say, but he held his tongue in his mouth. He knew he couldn't say that, he knew that any word said wrongly could simply ruin everything he had built so far. If he could even say he built something. He liked to think so.

From the first time you spoke, Jeonghan knew there was no going back, at least for him. He had never done anything like that. He had never called someone in the middle of the night simply because he wanted to hear someone's voice. And in this case, it wasn't just someone's voice, it was your voice that he wanted to hear.

With each passing sentence, Jeonghan found himself falling more in love with you and he wasn't able to say why. Maybe he could blame it on your eyes, always so focused, but somehow when they turned to him, they seemed so sweet and sincere. Or your voice, which gave orders and asked incisive questions, but as soon as the cameras were turned off it became gentle and almost shy. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed like a lioness when you were working, never giving space for unfounded questions, but you were shy when it was just the two of you alone.

He liked this version of you, who was right in front of him, who seemed completely comfortable with him, to the point of making jokes — something that until that moment you hadn't done yet.

“We always have extra pairs in the back, I'm sure one of them is your size” he had made sure you would, with Seungkwan's help of course “And then we try it, what do you think?”

Even though you were shaking your head, you went to the closet where you knew the skates were stored.

With your knees bent and shaking, you stepped onto the ice and immediately regretted giving in to Jeonghan's will. You didn't know how he had managed it, but in the closet, there was a brand new pair of skates, your size. Jeonghan had smiled as he bent down to tie your shoelaces,

“I’m going to fall flat on my face,” you said as you grabbed the bars.

Jeonghan held your face in his hands, your eyes fixed on his.

“I won’t let you fall”

The way the words left his lips made your heart skip a beat, or maybe several of them. You could feel it on the back of your throat and you could swear that your hands shook a little as you accepted the hand Jeonghan had extended to you.

You wished it could just stop. Not for your heart to stop beating altogether but for it to stop reacting to Jeonghan. Everything changed after that first call and you weren’t too sure of where it was. He had, someway, somehow, become a pivotal point of you. His voice, his eyes. The way tingles started to run down through your body the moment his skin came in touch with yours. How, despite all odds, he made you feel safe in a way you weren’t too sure you had ever experienced before.

When he said that he wasn’t going to you fall, you believed him so you held his hands — strong enough that you were sure were hurting him but he didn't seem to mind — and allowed Jeonghan to pull you into the rink.

“Don't move your feet” he said, voice ever so sweet but with a slight hint of teasing “I know it's probably hard, but let me take control here”

Forcing out all of the remaining air inside your lungs, you did as he asked. Instead of keeping your focus on the ice under your feet, you kept them in Jeonghan's face. A mistake, of course.

His eyes were too intense if you could say that. You didn't want to understand what was happening. Perhaps for the first time since you met Jeonghan, you didn't want to understand what it could mean. You were scared. What, exactly, you weren’t sure.

“I didn’t even have to ask you to look at me,” he said and you laughed a little, automatically looking away “Keep looking at me”

The whole experience of skating for the first time, or being guided, was not being registered by your brain. All you could see, think, feel, was Jeonghan, as if he had become a central point of everything.

“I think we should stop here”

You hoped your voice was loud enough and judging by the look on Jeonghan's face, it was. The smile fell from his lips and it was as if a small light in his eyes had gone out.

You hated that you were the one causing that reaction in him, but you knew it was best to stop everything before it went too far.

"I thought that…"

“We can’t blur the lines that much” you shook your head.

You didn't know exactly who you were trying to convince, him or you. You also weren't sure you had to convince yourself of anything. It was as if your brain had split in two. One part, probably the loudest, wanted you to just let things happen. You knew you weren't doing anything wrong, you weren't doing anything much really. What you did outside of your working hours and who you did it with was your problem and no one else's.

But the other part, one that spoke softly and that should have had much less strength, said it was dangerous, but also didn't offer much reason to be dangerous.

Yet somehow, that was the side you chose to listen to.

"Why?" He asked forcing his feet to the ground, making the two of you stand in the center of the rink. “What line are we blurring?”

You shook your head, hands clinging to his waist as you felt your feet begin to slide.

“I don’t know” you whispered in response “We are working”

Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed his lips to your cheek. With a sigh, he let his forehead fall onto your shoulder and closed his eyes.

You didn't know exactly where your skepticism came from, but you were also sure it wasn't completely unfounded. But truth be told, you wanted to blur that line and any others that might appear along the way.

“Go on a date with me,” he said “If you still feel that way, there’s nothing we can do. Just don’t… don’t stop something that hasn’t even started yet”

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fangirl-dot-com · 8 months

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Chapter 16.5 - Confessions and Cars 2

I thought I'd post this as a "I'm sorry" chapter lol and I felt like you readers needed some closure.

While writing this, I also realized that I do not know how to write a kiss (due to my non-existent love life)...so if someone has suggestions - I'd gladly take them :D

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

If Arthur thought that visiting you last November before you signed a Red Bull contract would somehow end up with you in his arms, he wouldn’t change anything. Back then, you had been his best friend. And, well, you were still his best friend, but he was hoping that soon (like tonight) you’d be more.

The end credits of Cars 2 played on the tv in the dark room. Most of the drivers (including but not limited to Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Daniel, Pierre, Charles, and Max) – maybe all of the drivers, who had come to visit you after your release from the hospital, had all left by now. A completed Lego Porsche 9-11 sat on the little counter by the basic coffee machine.

Now, it was just you, whose eyes were slowly drooping, and Arthur, who hadn’t been able to take his arms off of you since you got to the hospital in the first place.

Arthur, who had held you hand as the doctor put an IV in, because he knew your fear of needles.

Arthur, who had extra hair ties on his wrist, because he knew you hated to have your hair on your neck right after races, no matter what.

Arthur, who had called ahead to the front desk to specifically ask for a copy of Cars 2 be delivered to the room.

Arthur, who ubered your exact McDonalds order because you mentioned the craving once while you were still under some strong pain medication.

Arthur, who was your best friend, but you honestly wanted to be some more.

Your brain had been running a million miles since your car flipped into the barriers.

“Are you ready to go to bed yet?”

But his voice, was able to stop all thoughts.

You only let out a sigh in response. Arthur didn’t want to rush you, so he just picked the remote up and started your comfort movie over again.

Yet, you didn’t want to watch the entire thing over again.

“I was scared.”

Arthur immediately paused the movie, but kept his eyes in front.

“I watched the sky cross the opening. And then it just, hurt.”

His arms tightened around you. Yet, it wasn’t painful.

“I blacked out for a while. And then when I woke up, all I heard,” you turned to look at the boy in your arms, “was you, calling for me.”

Tears started forming in both yours and Arthur’s eyes. You shuffled a bit closer to him, getting even closer.

Arthur took a deep breath.

Hours before, he was ready to confess it all once you had gotten your first place trophy. He had it all planned out. But then, his world stopped the moment your back tyre clipped the first kerb and then you rolled.

“Y/n,” he started. This time, his eyes met yours. The TV forgotten in the background. In this moment, Arthur was glad that everyone else had left.

You waited with baited breath, urging him silently to continue.

“Well, I had this big plan, for after your race. And now, sitting here, I just know one thing and one thing only.”

You cocked your head in confusion. Yet, your heart was wanting him to speak the once sentence you’ve wanted to hear for forever.

“I love you. And when you didn’t respond,” he took your hands in his, “I wanted to die. And I know that might sound extreme, but at that moment, I knew I didn’t want a life without you in it. I also know that we’ve only known each other for a little more than a year but…”

You decided to interrupt him. “You’ve been my best friend for the majority of that year.”

He nodded with you, heart a bit dejected since you hadn’t confessed right after.

“I’ve never had a best friend, before you. And, I also couldn’t imagine a life without you. And Thur…”

He didn’t let you finish.

His lips met yours in a fervent kiss. You had to take a second to reel in your thoughts, but you kissed back. Because in this moment, you didn’t want anything to change. A large exhale left your nose.

You were hungry for a race win.

Arthur was hungry for your love.

His hands moved from holding yours to gripping your sides. And well, in true Arthur fashion, he gripped a bit too hard as a hiss left your lips.

His wide eyes looked right at your with concern. “I am so sorry.”

And before he could start to ramble in broken French, you pecked his lips. Well, that shut him up.

“It’s ok,” you whispered, trying to convince him. “And I love you too. Maybe a bit too much.”

Arthur sighed in relief and pressed his forehead against yours. “You do not know how happy that makes me to hear.” His words were a bit jumbled and his accent was heavy, but you got the gist.

“What now?”

Maybe it was your fears and doubts, but if this changed things, you’d rather not continue. Because you’d rather be best friends than lose him.

Arthur shut his eyes, smiles, and cocked his head. “I was hoping you’d be my girlfriend.” He gave you another sweet kiss, one that you reciprocated with a smile.

“Well then,” another kiss, “ask me.” A smirk replaced the smile.

Arthur leaned back and took your hands back into his and sat up straight. “Y/n?”

You let out a giggle.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You quickly pressed up against his face. Not in a kiss sense way. More like, you missed and just smashed your face against him. He tried to keep you upwards, but you pushed him down and fell on top of him. Another hiss left your lips, but a laugh covered it. You gently rested your head on his chest as your attention was back to the movie.

“Yes. I will be your girlfriend Mr. Leclerc.”

Arthur just let you snuggle back into him as he played the movie for a second time. Just as Mater was about to be reunited with Lightning McQueen, a thought suddenly crossed your mind.

“What are we going to tell Max?”

April 9, 2024

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 through it all, nobody gets me like you do

liked by y/n.nation, f1_fanatic, olliebearman, and 59,294 others

b0x_b0x UM GOOD MORNING? NOT EVEN A HELLO?

maxiel_lover babe, wake up, y/n just did a soft launch

y/n_nation Arthur isn't in the likes...

y/nxarthur I fear this is the end of the friendship?? y/n-on_top why would it be the end... y/nxarthur who knows, Arthur always likes her stuff and comments. maybe he doesn't like the boyfriend

oscarpiastri rue, when was this?

mcLaren_fan even Oscar doesn't know? logansargeant get in line of who doesn't know

olliebearman mother?? pick up your phone please

maxverstappen1 what the kid said, pick the phone up

box_box_official and the plot thickens

change_ur_f-car y/n not picking up her phone and Arthur isn't in the likes, what is this silly season?????

Big Racer

It's Arthur Isn't it??

Little Racer

who snitched

Big Racer

Kid, he looks at you like you hung the sun It doesn't take much sleuthing to find out

Little Racer

Please don't tell It's so new And I don't want to risk it

Big Racer

My lips are sealed But I do have one question Do I need to give you the talk?

Little Racer

MAX!?

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

#arthur leclerc x reader #f1 x driver!reader #platonic grid x reader #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc fanfic #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x y/n #f1 imagine #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader

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yeoldenews · 3 months

Note

I don't know how much you think about it, but you wrote a post back in Mar 2020:

"A sincere request from someone who has spent her entire adult life wishing people had kept better records…In the coming weeks and months… RECORD WHAT IS HAPPENING."

That post got me to start properly journaling properly, after trying and failing when I was younger. A majority of it is 'just' day-to-day progress updates on my fiction writing, but there's a bit of stuff about my life, and some briefer stuff about the world beyond. Not a lot, but some. Four (and change) years, and my journal is just short of 186K words.

I remembered your post, seeing today's SCOTUS decisions. I remembered your post, and I remembered a line you'd written: "Are you scared to death? Write it down."

I just...I don't know. I just wanted you to know your post made an impact, and I don't know what the fuck is coming over the next week and month and year and decade, but...I'm writing shit down. I'm writing shit down, and it's all because of your post.

You have no idea how much this means to me, and how badly I needed to hear it this week - so thank you. Truly. I am genuinely moved, and so proud of you for your 186k words.

History is made up of the stories people decided to save - and the first step to making sure a story gets saved is writing it down.

I really, really hate writing. Like more than just about anything. I'm a chronic perfectionist, and it can take me a whole afternoon to finish a single paragraph I'm satisfied with. (I spent three days writing this response, and you don't even want to know how long I spend on some of the things I post.) So keeping a journal is not a task I'd ever felt the need to afflict myself with before the pandemic. When I made the post you referenced, my journaling habit was all of ten days old but, against all the odds, here I am over four years later having never (to my recollection) missed a single day.

My daily records of what my cats are doing, and your day-to-day writing progress may not be extensively poured over by future scholars, but for only a few minutes of effort a day we now have recorded hundreds of stories.

And who knows what the people of the future might find fascinating. I'm sure the teenage girl in Philadelphia who smudged the letter she was writing in 1897 because a bee scared her would be absolutely baffled that thousands of people were still laughing about the incident 125 years later.

So much of history, and life in general, doesn't become clear until long after the fact. Historical records are full of people overreacting about events that ended up having very little significance in hindsight, and under-reacting about events they no had no idea were about to change the world. But being able to go back and see what people wrote in the moment, preserving their honest thoughts and hopes and fears, is about as close as you can get to time travel.

Maybe what we fear will come true and we're recording history, maybe we'll look back on what we wrote today and go "phew! that was a close one!", or maybe nothing will come of it at all - I pray it will be the last one, but, whatever the outcome, it's worth writing down.

(Also voting. Please, please vote.)

#and it doesn't have to just be writing #some of my favorite pieces of history I've recorded are photographs and videos and doodles #the most human thing we can do is leave the world with a few more stories #asks #journaling #history #current events #writing

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poppadom0912 · 4 months

Text

Is it too late?

Warnings: Mentions of periods, hospitals, surgery, pain and illness

Summary: When your older brother is a fancy surgeon, being sick is the last thing you want.

Requested by @1chicago5021

A/N: I'm still alive people. I had a sudden burst of inspiration and thought I'd finally get all these requests done before the next round of exams. I am in a lesson right now so I can’t do the usual aesthetic collage I always do. This was sent quite a while ago but I actually had so much fun writing this so thank you! I hope this lives up to your standards <3

*****

Two weeks ago now, your body randomly started not working the way you wanted it to, but you put all the blame on your period whose cramps hadn't been very forthcoming.

The painkillers were a coming in at a constant stream, hot water bottles never having the chance to go room temperature.

Your never-ending migraines and 24/7 cramps were a constant, so you expected to feel relief once you were back to normal. But that never came because this week started and somehow, you felt even worse.

When you woke up this morning to your throat feeling weird, you knew something was wrong when you drank water and the feeling didn’t go away.

Despite that, you went to school anyways, bidding your brother goodbye when he dropped you off, completely unaware of your wellbeing. But you couldn’t blame the guy, he was stressed enough over work as it is, you didn’t need to add to his already overflowing workload.

You only felt worse as the day progressed. It was only spring, nearing summer, but your body temperature wouldn’t stop fluctuating. One minute you were shivering and asking to borrow your friend's hoodie but the next you were sweating like you had just finished a marathon and was trying to get rid of as many layers as possible.

The cramps were immense. The worst you ever had and to consider you just got off your period, you weren’t a stranger to post period cramps, but this was on another level. You hadn’t been in this much pain ever even while on your reds. None of the pain killers your friends kindly provided for you alleviated the pain. Death would feel ever so sweet right about now.

You knew you were seriously sick when you were on the verge of collapsing at lunch. Your friends all shouted in alarm when you faltered on your feet in the cafeteria. You ignored their efforts and attempts to get you to the nurse's office. There wasn’t long left of the school day, there wasn’t any point in leaving with barely two hours left.

As soon as you got home, you fell face first into bed. As soon as your head hit the pillow and you pulled the covers over your body with however much strength remained in your arms that got heavier as the day went on.

You were in a deep sleep, so deep in fact that your dreams were non-existent. You weren’t too sure what time it was, but you felt someone shaking you, going from gentle to a hand tightly holding your shoulder, a muffled voice inaudible as you came in and out of your slumber.

Their gestures were painful, but you didn’t have it in you to tell the intruder as you struggled to even muster a groan. Your eyes fluttered, face digging even deeper into the pillow as if to suffocate yourself. That was all the indication the person needed to shake you harder, adamant to wake you up.

With a blocked nose, breathing out through your mouth proved itself to be a much more difficult task than it should’ve been. And stuffing your face into your pillow might not have been the best idea taking that into consideration.

Their voice sounded way too far away, as though they weren’t in the room with you. One second they were roughly holding you, the next, all pressure ceased but the pain didn’t.

Before you could even register what they were doing now, your eyes heavy with sleep dropped once more as you were enveloped into darkness again.

*****

Over the past two weeks, Connor had noticed your depleting energy but when the mood swings came along with your hot water bottles, he didn’t think any much more of the matter.

But then you showed no signs of improvements and at first, he could hardly notice. You hid it quite well at first but as the week progressed, it was apparent to him you were getting sick, and you were too stubborn to admit that to your surgeon brother.

Nonetheless, things didn’t look too bad that staying home was necessary. You were managing quite well, going to school the entire week without complaints, so he found no reason to intervene into something he knew would end up in an argument that would result in you holding a grudge and not talking to him for a few days.

He dropped you off and drove to work expecting nothing. You smiled at him when you left the car, and nothing seemed physically wrong when you picked up the pace to meet your friends.

His twelve-hour shift seemed to never end. When he had a moment to himself, he messaged you as he waited for his coffee, staring at his message that sat alone with no replies for hours. School has finished, you were sure to be home now, so why weren’t you answering?

He didn’t think much of it till he was meant to go home at twelve. He was all ready standing at his locker but then Maggie called his name and he saw several ambulances piling up outside.

As amazing as he was, his attention couldn’t be in two places at once and unfortunately for you, car crashes had more significance in this situation. But as soon as this was all over, you’d be his number one priority once more.

It was all over six hours later when he came out of the second surgery he had to take lead in.

Stepping out of the surgery theatre, he thanked all his co-workers and was dashing away to collect his things, not wanting to be here any longer. Having time to finally check his phone again, his concern skyrocketed when you still hadn’t replied to his messages.

Waving off the few staff remaining in the emergency department, Connor wasted no time in driving off. His adrenaline had yet to die down from the rush of a packed-out emergency room and doing several successful surgeries. Adding to this was his building concern for you. Maybe you were just sleeping, and your phone was on charge. Maybe it was on silent, and you didn’t hear anything. Maybe it was stolen, and you couldn’t contact him-

Connor sighed as he parked the car. Wasting no time, his body still thrumming from the surgery high, he walked into the building and took the stairs instead, taking large strides as he skipped every two.

The house was drop dead silent when he opened the door which you hadn’t locked from the inside like you usually would. That and the completely pitch-black apartment was the first things that put him on edge.

He locked the door behind him, walking in further and inspecting the living room and kitchen that didn’t look lived in. Everything was in its same place as he left it in this morning. Closing the blinds in the living room, he walked towards your bedroom, your door slightly ajar which had never been the case since you started living with him. You always shouted at him whenever he left the door even a slither open, you always needed complete darkness to sleep. The tiniest bit of light always hindering your sleeping ability.

Pushing the door open, Connor poked his head inside first to survey the room. He finally let himself relax at the sight of you lying in bed, your figure completely drowning in your duvet. The weird lump in your sheets being the only reason he could identify you.

He felt himself relax, his body physically deflating now that he had eyes on you, knowing for sure that nothing was wrong.

For some reason, your curtains were still open which they never were since you were young, always complaining, once again, that you needed complete darkness to be able to sleep. Closing your curtains, he found your phone on your bedside desk, and it was littered with notifications from not only him but all of your friends too. All of them were asking in variations if you were okay, if you felt better, did you get home safe and how you were feeling.

They were all sent at three in the afternoon. It was now two in the morning.

Concerned at the topic of the messages, Connor came over to the side of the bed you were laying on and placed his hand on your forehead, his eyes widening immediately. He felt himself warming up just from how hot you were.

Sitting down on the space by your knees, Connor shook you gently, trying to rouse you from your apparent very deep sleep but the only movement you made was from what he was doing.

“Y/N? Hey, wake up. Can you get up for me really quick?”

The adrenaline that was just dying down was picking up again along with his heart rate, why weren’t you waking up?

He shook you once again but this time, he was more rough, his worry meaning he gripped your shoulder tightly and shook you with a force that he’d never use on you before as his baby sister.

This time he tried calling you name while he tried getting you up. Lifting the duvet off your body, not only were you shivering but you were sweating a very unusual amount.

Swallowing harshly, Connor tried one more time, calling your name and roughly shaking you. “Come one, I need to you wake up Y/N.”

“Y/N. Y/N get up.”

But you just wouldn’t budge.

Deciding that enough was enough, he scooped you into his arms and it must’ve been the sudden movement that caused you to let out a small whimper in what was clearly pain. It was small but it was the most he’d gotten from you since he got home and that was better than nothing.

Foregoing his jacket, Connor made sure to slip your cardigan over your torso, so you weren’t going to die from the cold outside. He quickly slipped into his own shoes and left the building not a moment later.

*****

No one had been expecting Connor to be back at work so soon, not even him. It was a few minutes to three and the ED was relatively calm taking into account the big accident not too long ago, but Connor was grateful.

Getting out the car, Connor looked into the ED and called for the first person he saw.

“April! Get me a gurney!”

Said nurse was caught completely off guard, jumping from where she stood at the nurse's desk with Will not too standing behind her. He too clearly was confused but Connor had no time to dwell on them.

Not checking if she was listening, Connor rounded the car and picked you back into his arms, your head resting on his bicep and your legs on the inside of his elbow. Slamming the door shut, Connor strode into the emergency department and luckily for him, April and Will were more than ready to help.

“All the gurneys are used up from before, but we’ve got a free bed.” April said, leading the surgeon into an empty treatment room where Will was lowering the bedside rails.

“Talk to me Connor.” Will said, understanding there was no time for formalities when he saw it was you Connor was carrying.

“No clue what happened but she’s as hot as anything, she’s shivering and sweating at the same time and will not wake up for anything.” Connor started, gently laying you down and standing back to let Will and April do their jobs. He was itching to help but physically had to move further away from you so that he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“Pretty sure she’s been sick and in pain for a while now, but she never said anything.” He continued, looking at all the numbers on the machines that were popping up as they were connected to your body. “When I asked last week, she just kept saying it was her period cramps.”

As April hooked you up onto an IV drip, Will started palpating your body in search for any particular place of pain. And when he came to a particular area in your lower abdomen and you cried out, the three of them looked at each other knowingly.

“Kieran should still be on shift.” Connor said, remembering the surgeon he left behind that was in charge and available.

Will nodded in confirmation, “Let’s move.”

*****

Waking up felt different to all the times before. Your levels of disorientation and haziness and confusion were on another level.

As soon as you opened your eyes, the first thing you noticed was the lack of pain. You couldn’t feel not even a pinch in your stomach, maybe it was weird to say but it felt liberating to not be in debilitating pain.

“Oh, thank goodness your awake.” Connor looked dead on his feet in the doorway of the room but the immense relief painting his face was like no other.

You made him feel and look like that- Shit, what happened, what did you do?

Before you could say anything, Connor beat you to it. “How are you feeling? In any pain?”

As he questioned you, a poured you a cup of water, holding it so all you had to do was drink and not need to exert energy that he knew from experience, you didn’t have.

Once again, before you could ask, he answered for you. “It was appendicitis. Your period cramps were in fact your appendix and last night it burst.”

“But it’s all good. We got you into surgery and your appendix is gone as should your pain.”

“Wow.” You said shakily, your voice so quiet from the lack of use.

“Please don’t do that next time.” Connor said, sitting on the empty seat by the bed, taking your hand into his. “Please tell me when you're in pain and when you feel sick. You matter to me; all your small or big problems are mine too. I don’t care how trivial they are.”

Silence followed as he set the glass aside. “You scared the shit out of me kiddo.”

And to say you felt guilty was an understatement.

“Claire’s pissed.” You both winced at the thought of your sister finding out. “She’s going to visit when she’s finished with work. I told her your healthy and out of surgery but she’s still pissed.”

“M’Sorry.” You apologised, voice hoarse and lips chapped. “I didn’t want-“

“Y/N.” Connors face made it look like he was in pain from your admission he cut off. “You’re never a bother to me okay? Me being a doctor is a good thing, use it to your advantage.”

You nodded, confirming to change next time if there was another time. Fingers crossed there isn’t.

“How hard was it to not do the surgery?” You smiled, squeezing his hand and poking his bicep. He was still in his scrubs from his shift last night.

Connor rolled his eyes and groaned. Such a sight made you laugh.

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago fic #onechicago #chicago med #one chicago fanfiction #chicago med x reader #connor rhodes #connor rhodes oneshot #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes x sibling #sister reader

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imtherain · 27 days

Text

Why We Wake

Heyo

Fun fact about me, my first love in life was Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, so as one would imagine, I'm taking the new movie, EXTREMELY well and I am SO normal about it.

Here's the first fanfic I've finished for him this time around. Just a little fic, but I said I'd post it if people liked my last post, and I am nothing if not susceptible to that brand of peer pressure.

Anywho...

Warnings: None really, it's pretty short and kinda cute. There's a storm, there's no smut, reader is jealous/avoidant of her feelings because of Jean... I guess it's vaguely friends to lovers? idk

Plot:

Where it's storming and you go to wander the mansion because you can't seem to sleep. You run into Logan, who also can't sleep, and he was looking for you.

It had been stormy most of the afternoon, distant thunder and sheets of rain. While the mansion was awake, the noises didn’t bother you. Most of the time, even when it was quiet, storms didn’t really affect you much either. But tonight, as the mansion fell silent and the storm built outside, you found it impossible to settle for the night. You dozed for maybe five whole minutes, but kept finding yourself awake. You tossed and turned until eventually, you gave up.

Like most of the night dwellers, you found your restless feet circling the common areas. Someone was in the lounge flicking through the tv. A couple of the teenagers were whispering in the library as you peaked in and passed by. You figured, since you couldn’t sleep, might as well make the rounds in case someone asked what you were up to. You were supposed to be one of the responsible adults after all.

You weren’t sure why exactly, but after you finished the normal route around the school, your feet took you down the opposite side of the living spaces, causing you to come around the long way on your way back to your room. You really didn’t know why you even bothered to go back towards bed, you would have had better luck sleeping somewhere else. It didn’t matter much though, because your feet stilled outside a door that wasn’t yours.

You and Logan had circled each other for a long time.

But you’d seen the looks that had passed between him and Jean too many times to ever feel like there could be room in his heart for you. You figured you might settle for room in his bed, but you’d never really been the casual type. So all this time you had wanted, and yet, you had stayed, quite purposefully, away.

But it never prevented the way he flirted with you.

And it never prevented the ache you felt for him.

The door in front of you suddenly swung open and you found yourself face to face with the man himself. He wore a pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. From the way he had half zipped it, you could tell he hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on underneath.

“Hey,” His voice was gravel and surprise. “What are you doing up this late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You smirked back. He grinned to himself and nodded.

“Storm’s too loud,” He said. “Was going to go see if you were awake. Maybe ask you to sing me a lullaby.” You felt that familiar heat bloom in your chest. Logan often said things like that to you, and if you didn’t know better, you might have even believed he meant it.

“Sure you were,” You rolled your eyes at him.

He probably said the same things to Jean when he bumped into her.

“What are you doing down this far?” Logan asked, eyebrow raised now. The heat from your chest grew as he watched you blush. “As I recall, your room is on the other side,”

“It is,” You agreed. “I was walking rounds,” Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame to watch you squirm.

“In the teacher dorms?” His stupid face was so full of mirth you could almost forget the gnawing in your ribcage.

“Teachers need to be checked on too,” you snapped back, crossing your arms defensively.

You hadn’t been doing anything wrong, so why did you feel so guilty?

“Find anything good?” He was smirking at you and you wanted to look away but you couldn’t. You liked it when he smiled at you like that. Even if at some point, the moment would end and you��d be alone again.

“What?”

“On your rounds. Find anything… good?” You weren't sure you understood the pause or why it felt loaded.

“Not at all, a few kids in the library, a straggler here and there,” You told him. “And you,” he hummed at that.

“Wanna come in?” Logan asked with a nod of his head to signal the room behind him. You'd been alone with him before, and had been in his room plenty of times for a moment or two.

“Yeah, sure,” You agreed easily. If nothing else, just spending some time with him might help you relax. It usually did, though you would never tell anyone exactly why.

And you didn’t pay any mind to the little thoughts in your head that spoke of the sorts of sordid things people could do behind a closed door on a stormy night. And while you knew Logan flirted, you also knew he wasn’t going to do anything to you that you wouldn’t like or want or ask for.

Logan moved to push the door open enough that you could slip under his arm and go inside his room. He followed, closing the door behind him.

The room looked almost identical to yours in form, but you had decorated yours to fit you. Logan’s room looked like no one had lived in it yet, other than the jacket thrown on a chair, a couple pairs of boots, and the fact it smelled like him.

How a room could smell just like him surprised you, but only because he didn’t seem to have been in any one place long enough to leave that sort of trace behind. But he had been at the school far longer than you, so maybe it shouldn’t surprise you.

You watched as Logan made his way back to his bed and slid himself under the covers. He remained sitting up, back against the headboard, as he waved you closer.

“I won’t bite,” Logan’s smile said he might if you asked. You were ok risking it either way.

“I’m not afraid of you,” You teased him, joining him under the blankets. Just like friends at a sleepover. You were surprised at how warm the bed was already. Surprised too, at how you were chilled from your little walk.

“Shame,” Logan mused, shifting so that his arm was around you. You felt the heat from your chest swell again, but you were desperate not to notice it. Not to read into things. “What do you say to spending the night here?”

“Here?” You mused. You knew Logan could hear your heartbeat speed up. Honestly, it wouldn't have taken enhanced hearing to notice.

“I think the company would do us both some good,” He continued. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow.

“Are you afraid of the storm?” You ask, incredulous.

“Not afraid, it’s just… really loud. I’d rather listen to something else,” You could feel him watching you but you weren’t brave enough to meet his eyes. This could go a couple of ways, and most of them ended with you crying in your bathroom tomorrow.

“Do earplugs not help since your hearing is so good?” You asked, trying to dispel the tension.

“Pretty much,” You jumped when you felt him press his lips to your bare shoulder. You weren’t sure if you were glad for your tank top or not. “You ok with this?”

“More than I should be, yeah,” Your chest felt tight. It was nerves and it was that ache that always seemed to show up when Logan was nearby.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His breath fanned against your neck, but he paused in his movements.

“I’ve seen the way you look at Jean,” You told him. “I don’t want to be your consolation prize,” You didn’t have the strength to stop him when he shifted to rest his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Then you haven’t seen the way I look at you,” His voice was a whisper against your skin. You shivered as he pressed another chaste kiss there.

“I guess I haven’t,” You agree, equally soft. You wondered how you never made the connection that anytime you did look at him, his eyes always happened to be on you. Did he really look at you like that?

“I can hear your heart racing,” Logan chuckled, his lips on the shell of your ear. “Tell me you don’t want this,”

“Tell me that you do,” You countered, eyes screwed shut.

“I do,” He almost purrs. “God, I’ve wanted you since the first day you walked into this mansion.” Another kiss against your jaw and you couldn’t help but move so he had better access to kiss your throat. “With your giant ass wheeled suitcase… and that fucking sundress,” He groaned when he felt your hand on his arm, squeezing him in response to the memory. You had always been so busy trying not to catch his eye for fear of finding him looking at someone else. “I’ve dreamed about you in that dress…and you cruelly haven’t worn it since,”

Turns out you really had missed him looking at you.

“It didn’t seem as appropriate once I got here,” You manage around the blood racing through your body. Your heart was working overtime, beating so loud you couldn’t even hear the thunder anymore.

“Maybe you should wear it for me when I get to take you out,” Logan chuckled as your ears turned pink. He was so close to you, shrouding you from the night and the storm outside. It was so different than you expected it to be, but you welcomed it either way.

“You want to take me out?”

“If you’ll let me,” He sits back to look at you. “Though if you just want to fuck, I guess that’s fine too,”

You were surprised at the way his eyes hardened at the thought that this might just be carnal. You may not have known everything that had happened to him in his life, but it wasn’t hard to guess that there had been a number of times when people just wanted to use him. For fighting, for fucking, for whatever, his own feelings be damned.

You never wanted to make him feel like that.

“I’d love for you to take me out,” You told him, reaching out to cradle his face in your hands. Logan grinned, leaning into your touch. Before you thought better of it, you leaned forward and covered his mouth with yours.

Logan seemed pleased by this, adjusting so that he was over you, working you both down the bed so that he could settle himself with his hips cradled in your welcoming thighs. His lips never leaving yours.

“When are you free next?” Logan asked, panting after the long kiss broke for a moment.

“I don’t know,” You roll your eyes at him. “We’ve got other things to do right now,” You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped you as he knit his brow, seeming to wonder what you meant. You just pulled him down to kiss you again.

Eventually, you both settled in for the night, exhausted all at once. Logan was using you as a pillow, his head resting just above your hip, one arm reaching up between your thighs so he could tease the skin around your navel with his strong fingers, tracing circles and nonsense into your flesh. Holding you like his favorite pillow.

You were resting comfortably amongst his pillows, one hand reaching down to the back of his head to play with his hair.

“I think the storm passed,” You muse, not really meaning anything by it.

“There’s more coming,” Logan told you. “So if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay right here and listen to you instead,” you felt him nip gently at your hip and you squirmed.

“I don’t mind at all,” You smiled at the ceiling while Logan adjusted himself around you.

“Good,” He mumbled, already halfway to sleep. You couldn’t help the grin on your face as you felt his breathing even out.

Maybe you woke up just for this.

Either way, you were more than happy to play pillow, and soon enough, you were just as asleep as he was.

[Masterlist]

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logansargeantsbabymom · 3 months

Note

Hi could you please write an imagine for the f1 boys (mainly Charles, lando, Pierre, Charles) where they surprise the reader at work and she works in childcare. Thank you

Hey pretty, thank you for the request <3!

Work Surprises with the F1 Boys

A/N: I did make this where Y/N has different occupations working with children so it's not the boring same old same old for every driver. I hope that's okay!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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F1 Masterlist

Charles Leclerc: Pediatrician

I woke up at the same time I have for the past 3 years as I would everyday to get ready for work, at 5:30am. Now I was never and never will be a morning person but I absolutely love my job because it involves me helping kids whether they're sick or just need to get a physical for a school field trip.

I felt my boyfriend stir in his sleep next to me as I tried to sneak out of bed. My attempt of sneaking out though failed as I felt the strong arm of my boyfriend wrap around my waist and yanked me against his body. "Mmmm, don't leave" my boyfriend, Charles whispered against the crook of my neck, which caused me to shiver at the sudden breath hitting my skin.

"Baby, I have to get ready for work." I said as I ran a hand through his messy hair

A groan left his mouth before he continued, "Call out sick" his grip on my waist tightening as he snuggled closer to me to fall back asleep

"No Charles, I have too many appointments today and I won't have any cover. I'll be back soon though, remember the office closes early because it's the 4th of July?" that seemed to persuade him enough because I felt his grip loosen a bit and I took that as my queue to slip out before he had enough time to change his mind.

I'd only been at work for about 2 hours and I've seen about 24 patients and attempted to finish some paperwork but every time I get the second to sit down and start the papers, a new patient needs to be seen. I think the last time I've been more stressed in my life than I am right now was back when I was waiting for my score to see if I passed my pediatric exam to get my license and that because I have a waiting room of 6 more patients and all the other doctors and nurses are busy.

I can only thank the heavens because the next patient I had to see turned out to be quadruplets, which would save a significant amount of time on my behalf. Once I called the patients and led them to the room where I closed the door before asking the most important question any doctor could every ask.

"Who's Nicky, Ricky, Dicky and Dawn?" I was slightly annoyed with myself as I finished my question because anyone could tell who Dawn was so I could've easily excluded her from the question.

"I'm Nicky, that's Dicky, and that's Ricky. Dawn obviously is the only girl here so" Nicky said

"Right, well who wants to get their shots first?" I said as I looked at the pan of 8 needles. Each kid needed a flu shot and a hep b shot but as I looked around the already crowed room, none of the kids wanted to volunteer first.

With an unamused look on her face, Dawn reluctantly agreed to go first. It only took about 10 minutes to give all 4 kids their shots and when the last kid got his shot, they all bolted out of the room.

"I'm sorry about them, they hate needles" was all the mom said before she left to follow her kids.

It's now 11:55am and the last patient is just about to leave before we close for an hour to have lunch "Okay, if the meds aren't working for your son after about a week, I would come back but if he develops a fever and starts vomiting while taking it, I would suggest taking him to the emergency room." I said as I guided the new mom and her 3 year old daughter to the front lobby.

As soon as the last patient left, I locked the door before making my way to my office to attempt to get some of my paperwork done during my hour break instead of eating.

I was walking back to receptionist desk where I kept my paperwork so I could take them back to my office, only to find it not there. A look of confusion plastered on my face as I continued to look for my missing paperwork. I frustrated groan left my mouth as I realized I'd have to restart all that work.

"I hope you really weren't about to skip lunch for work mon cherie"

A gasp slips past my lips as I quickly turned around to see my boyfriend standing there with a stack of files in one hand and bag of Chinese food in the other.

"Charles!" I said as I walked over to him and took my paperwork back "I thought someone stole these! You scared me!" I placed my hand over my heart and I took deep breaths to try and regulate my heartbeat.

"Sorry, mon coeur but I had to take them because I knew you were going to skip lunch again." A baffled look played across my face because how did he know I have been skipping my lunch breaks to get paperwork done?

"Your coworkers have been telling me you're not eating at work. You can't tell kids to eat to grow and be strong and then not take your own advice. I'm here to make sure that you eat today so I'm making it a little lunch date. Sit and eat."

Lando Norris: Kindergarten teacher

"Ms. L/N, my dad told me that you're dating a famous wace car dwiver, is that twue?" my one student, who's name I just learn was Leo asked me.

Today was meet the teacher day at the school I taught at just 2 weeks before the first day of school and this question was very different than the ones I've been asked before. I looked up at the single dad behind him as I let out a little chuckle

"Why yes I am Leo, is your dad a fan?" I asked as I knelt to be at level with him

"Uh huh! He woves the orwange one!" I've always had a soft spot for kids and right now Leo is making my heart melt.

I didn't have a chance to respond before he ran over to his dad to tell him the good news. I got pulled aside by a parent who told me about an allergy her kid had to a specific cleaning chemical which I made a note of to avoid using in my classroom. I stuck the sticky note on my computer screen before hearing "MS L/N, YOUR BOYFRWEND HERE!" I could recognize that voice as little Leo's.

My head shot up to look at the door and sure enough, my very famous Formula 1 driver boyfriend was there with a bag full of school supplies and gift bags filled with goodies for the kids.

"Kids, I've got presents!!" Lando shouted which caused a little sea of 5-6 year olds kids ran over him making little grabby hands.

Once all the kids got their little baggy of toys, Lando talking to Leo's dad and I answered more questions, the classroom started to empty as Meet The Teacher time ended. The room fell in a comfortable silence as I started to clean up and organize all the supplies I was gifted today.

"Have you ever thought of having a kid or two?" Lando asked, my body tensed at the question

"I dunno, I haven't thought about it. Have you?" I asked as I looked him in the eyes.

"Everyday since we started dating."

Carlos Sainz: School Counselor

"Listen Jess, I can't keep getting you out of trouble. You have to stop getting attitudes with teachers over a small issue." I said with a sigh as I had to deal with a troubled 14 year old freshman for the 4th time this week and it only being Tuesday.

"It's not my fault Ms. Jones was being a bitch to me." Jess said as she shrugged and slouched back in the seat she was in.

"Jess! You can't go around calling your teacher a bitch!" I scolded

"I will if they're being bitches!" Jess shouted

The ring of my school phone is what prevented me from further scolding the student sat in front of me

"Ms L/N's office" I started as I listened to the person on the other line "Okay, tell him to sit at the door of my office while I finish up with this student I have now. Okay, thank you. Bye bye" I hung up the phone before turning my attention back to Jess.

"Do you have another student?" she questioned

"I have another meeting, yes, but you're my top priority right now." I said as I readjusted my position in my chair

"To be honest, I cause these problems because I need someone to talk to and I feel most comfortable with you." Jess admitted as she looked down at her lap

"Jess," I started sympathetically "How about this, once a week we will have a 20 minute meeting to talk about anything and everything you want?" I compromised, which got a nod from her.

I watched as Jess left my office, I attempted to clean my desk a little before bringing my other meeting in before hearing Jess' voice

"Woah, you're hot. Are you a teacher?" before I could questioned who she's talking to I heard a thick Spanish accent answer her question

"No, I just have a meeting with Y/N." Disbelief spread across my face as I recognized the voice. There was no way that voice belonged to who I thought it did to.

I quickly ran outside my office where I was met with the most beautiful man on planet earth and who I was proud to call my boyfriend.

"CARLOS?!" I shouted as I jumped in his arms before planting a kiss to his lips

"Sorry for calling your boyfriend hot Ms. L/N" Jess said before she walked away

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" I asked as he put me down but not breaking the hug

"We have the week off before the Miami Grand Prix so I wanted to surprise you." Carlos whispered as he kissed my temple

"Well, consider me surprised" I mumbled against his lips before littering his face in kisses.

Lewis Hamilton: Peds surgeon

I’m currently on hour 8 of my 12 hour hospital shift and I’ve never been more exhausted in my life. I’ve performed 2 surgeries today and I still have one more lined up, now don’t get me wrong, I love my job and everything that comes with it. The ups, the downs, all of it.

I’ve finally finished up a post-op check up with one of my patients before hearing my stomach growl, I sent one of my trusted nurse friends to do the post op check up on the other patient while I grabbed a quick bite before my next surgery.

When I got to the cafeteria, I got a sandwich and sat down with another one of my friends while I scarfed my food down.

“So what’d you do today?” My trauma surgeon friend, Nalani asked as she took a bite of the sandwich she got

“I had to fix a bowel in one kid and another one swallowed a whole bunch of magnetic balls so I had to remove those. One balls tried to stick to the other and pierced an intestine so I had to fix that up. What about you?” I asked a I took another big bite of my food

“Oh well two people came in impaled in the chests with a long rod. Had to separate them, they both survived. It was a real miracle of God because when the images were taken, it looked like neither one of them were gonna survive.”

I’d been prepping for my last surgery of the day before I finally get to clock out and not worry about coming back for the next 4 days.

I walked into the OR getting suited up before noticing a figure in the amphitheater which caused me to look out of pure curiosity. Looking up I was locking eyes with the most handsomest man Ive ever seen in my whole life, who just so happened to be my fiancé.

“What is Lewis doing here?” I questioned the surgical intern

“He said he really missed you. The chief of surgery gave him clearance to be there, I think he promised to autograph a whole bunch of things for him and his kids?”

“That sounds like something Lewis would agree to” I giggled as I started to walk to the head of the table before hearing over the intercom

“Good luck with this surgery darling, I love you.”

“I love you too” was all I whispered before starting my last surgery of the day.

Daniel: Summer Camp Director

“Alright everybody, can I have your attention please?” I shouted as I glanced around the room filled with 10-15 year olds.

This is my 3rd summer being a Camp Counselor and I have to admit that I always have a blast here.

“Thank you. My name is Ms. L/N, and I’m the main counselor here at Camp Kikiwaka and I’m going to be going over everything that we’re going to be doing here over the course of the summer and you then I’ll open the floor to you guys so you can ask me questions, okay?”

I heard a sea of “Yes” “Okay” “Got it” before I continued. It only took about 45 minutes to go over the expectations at Camp Kikiwaka and the summer itinerary, “Okay, now does anyone have any questions?” A small hand shot up the second I finished my question

“I thought the big kid camp was the building?” a little girl said

“Yes it is, the camp section for older kids is right next door, why? Do you have a sibling over there?” I questioned as I looked at the little girl in front of me

“So who’s that man and why is he smiling at you?” okay, that was scary at all.

Before I could register who she was talking about I heard an older boy say “That’s Daniel Ricciardo!! What is Daniel Ricciardo doing here?!” which caused me to shoot around to see if he’s actually here.

“Hello guys! Don’t mind me, I’m just here to be your counselor’s assistant for the next week and a half” Daniel said as he walked over to me and engulfed me in a hug, swaying us side to side before placing a quick kiss on my temple.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, looking up at him to stare in his beautiful eyes

“We have two weeks before the next race so I thought I’d volunteer my time here. I already got permission” Daniel said as he cupped my face.

Turning around I let the kids know the news “Okay guys so this is my boyfriend and your guys’ new camp counselor for a week and a half, Mr. Ricciardo! You guys can go up to him and ask him questions just as you are able to come to me!”

“You guys can call me Daniel, there’s no need for formality. Alrighty, any questions?” Daniel corrected me

“HOW CAN I BE YOUR ASSISTANT IN FORMULA 1????” The older boy shouted which caused Daniel to let out a loud laugh before he answered the question.

This was going to be a fun week and a half.

Pierre: Therapist

To say that today has been stressful would be an understatement. The lady who was in charge of booking my appointments scheduled who people at the same time and then proceeded to fill my schedule today so I couldn’t place the poor girl anywhere so I did the only logical thing anyone would do: I skipped lunch.

Well skipping lunch obviously wasn’t the best idea ever because just about 4 patients after lunchtime is when my headache started settling in, right in that spot behind my eyes. God I hated headaches so much but I despised them even more at work because how am I supposed to be helping my patients if I can’t even think straight.

To make matters worse than they already were, the headache went from just being pulsing behind my eyes to throbbing every time I moved my head in the slightest moment. Thank god this meeting ended quicker than intended and I had 15 minutes before my next patient was to walk in which gave me time to pop a few ibuprofen’s and let it settle in, in hopes that this would go away before the next one walks in.

I must’ve drifted off because two seconds after popping the ibuprofen’s there’s a knock at the door. I suppressed my groan before letting out a weak “Come in!”

I heard the door open but I just couldn’t bring myself to lift my head up

“Woah, you look like shit.” I heard a thick french accent say as the person let out a little giggle.

I knew who the voice belonged to, the owner was my longtime boyfriend who I haven’t seen in 3 weeks but right now, I couldn’t even be excited because I was in pain.

“Pierre please, I love you but right now I have such a massive headache. I feel like I’m going to pass out.” I mumbled into my hands

“Did you eat? I brought food.” He said as he lifted up the bag of french food that he claimed I “needed” to try.

I reluctantly lifted my head so I was able to take a bite or two out of the food. After a few bites I could slowly feel my headache going away, letting out a satisfied groan I continued to dig into my meal.

“You look like you haven’t eaten in days” Pierre chuckled as he watched me absolutely scarf down the food he placed in front of me.

“I feel like I haven’t” was all I managed to get out before I finished my food.

By the time my next appointment arrived, my headache was nothing but a slight throb behind my eyes which I was eternally grateful for.

I made a mental note to thank Pierre in different ways when I got home.

Logan: Speech Therapy

I’d been working with this kid to say ‘Water’ for the past 20 minutes and I’m nowhere with him.

I work with kids who have trouble talking and I get them to where they need to be at whatever age they are. Like if the kid is 4 years old and isn’t talking, I have to work a lot with the kids to make sure that I can get him to talk and be at a 4 year old’s level of communication.

Something about this 4 year old though, I just can’t get him to say ‘Water’ no matter how hard I try. I glanced up at the clock noting that it’s almost lunch time and I would have to end our session soon.

“L/N, your boyfriend is here and he brought food for all of us!” My coworker Destiny said

“Logan, can you help me? I can’t get him to say ‘Water’ and I’ve been trying for the last 20 minutes” I’m pleading with anyone at this point to at least help me get some type of progress done with him.

I watched as Logan got at level with the kid before attempting his own way “Hey buddy, can you say ‘water’?” after a second of silence he tried again “say ‘wah’.”

“Wah” my body tensed at the kid talking

“ good! now say ‘ter’.”

“Ter” I can’t believe he’s doing it

“Yes! ‘water’ !”

“AMERICA”

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Lance: Nanny

“Baby why are you here?” I shot around to face my boyfriend

“When the fuck did you get here?” I asked in disbelief

“I missed you. How about we dip?” The nerve of this handsome man.

“Lance, I’m babysitting YOURE NIECE because YOU didn’t want to”

“I’ll pay my sister to take her kid back”

“Jesus”

Oscar: Librarian

“Excuse me Ms, do you have the Pete the Cat book? Me and my friend really want to read it. Please” I heard a little girl say.

I looked down at her before typing in my computer to see exactly where in the store it was at.

“Yes, you can follow me right this way and I’ll take you to them!” I said as I made my way over to where the books were placed. “They’re right here then. Just come up and let me know if you need anymore help!” I said as I watched her and her friends grab different books before going over to the bean bags to sit and read.

Back at my desk I was trying to place pre-orders for the new Ana Huang book coming out. I only got to the part where I could place the amount I wanted in my cart before I was being asked a question

“Do you guys have the King Of series? My girlfriend really wants to read them.” I looked up from my computer only to be faced with my Fiancé of 6 months

“Oscar?? What are you doing here?” I asked in disbelief

“I was in the area. Okay well I was a few cities away but it was only a hour drive” He said shrugging

“You’re so weird. The books are this way” I said as I grabbed a hold of his hands to guide him the way to my favorite Authors section.

Max: Nutritionist

“Okay Mom so you want to make sure that baby gets as much veggies in his system and more water, Santa said he only puts kids on the nice list if they listen to their mom and eat what she gives.” I said as I directed that last part to her 5 year old son who scrunched his face before hiding behind his mom.

“See Chase, I told you that Santa said that. He didn’t want to believe that Mommy has ties with Santa.” She smiled at the last part before picking her son up to take him out. “Thank you again, Chase is going to eat his veggies, right Chase?”

“No!” he yelled

“Do you want to be big and strong?” A thick Dutch accent could be heard

“Uh huh!!” Chase replied

“We’ll eat veggies. That’s the only way.” I turned to see my boyfriend Max in the doorway of my office.

“Otay!”

“Oh well that was one way.” The mom shrugged

“Have a good day!” I shouted as she left “I don’t know how you did that”

“Kids love me”

“oh that’s not-”

George: Sports Coach

“RUN THE FUCKING LAPS NOW!!!” I screamed at the kids in front of me

To the outside world I would seem crazy for yelling at a bunch of kids like this but in reality, I’m coaching my brother and his bastard friends soccer team this season and they bet me $20 I wouldn’t say that in front of their parents, so that was a quick $20 I put in my pocket.

“CURSING AT KIDS NOW BABE?” My boyfriend George asked.

He was helping me coach them this year and he’s a really do-by-the-book type of guy and he really disapproved of me cursing at the kids.

“Sorry baby, they deserve it. They said that you’re too bad to be in F1” I said shrugging as I made up that lie

“RUN 2 FUCKING MILES NOW!!”

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan

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celestiababie · 1 year

Text

A Handful - K.MG

Pairings: Stay at home husband! Mingyu x fem! reader

Genre: fluff, highly suggestive (18+), domestic!au, established relationship!

Warnings: PREGNANT READER, chest fondling (m and f receiving), cursing, Mingyu is a little shit, reader is hormonal and easily annoyed, Mingyu possibly has a breeding kink, reader is shorter than Mingyu, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Word Count: 915 (short but I was on hiatus and this is the first thing I'm writing in MONTHS)

Summary: Your husband is no stranger to being touchy and clingy, but he's been especially annoying ever since you gave him the big news.

A/N: I'M MOTHERFUCKING BACK!!! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this. For reference, this acts as a small prequel to a small series I have about stay at home husband/dad! Mingyu. You don't have to read the other parts, but I will leave a link to the series masterlist just in case people want to read it. Please leave feedback, I'd really appreciate it, especially since I'm a bit nervous about posting again haha.

Series Masterlist

A pair of warm hands suddenly wrap around your growing stomach, engulfing you as a gigantic presence looms over you.

The shriek that escapes your lips is embarrassing, but not nearly embarrassing as your hands lose their grasp on the plate you were scrubbing, dropping it in the sink and causing the fine porcelain to shatter.

"Shit—are you hurt, baby?" Your husband's voice echoes through the not yet completed kitchen, irking you more than it normally would.

Spinning in his hold, you wipe your damp hands on the sides of your sweatpants before shooting him one of the deadliest (and sexiest) glares he's ever witnessed.

"No, I'm not hurt, but I keep telling you not to sneak up behind me when I'm doing the dishes! I don't even understand how your tall ass is that fucking quiet," you start, your brows furrowed as you hold your glare.

Mingyu opens his mouth to reply but can't get a single word out before you shush him with a single finger to the lips.

"I'm not finished. And this is the fifth. No, the sixth time a plate has broken since we've moved here."

"That's not that bad, Y/n," Mingyu defends with a pout accompanying his words.

You cock a brow at the tall man, scoffing at his pathetic defense, your tongue pressed into the side of your cheek.

Six plates is a lot for any man, but it becomes comical when it's only been a month and a half since moving into the new house with your klutz of a husband.

"You've also spilled drinks. Many times. Dropped multiple glasses. And don't think that I'm stupid and don't know you dropped the bottle of wine Minghao gifted us. I was looking forward to drinking that. That's pretty bad, admit it, Gyu," you list off, enjoying how a deep rosiness reaches the tips of his ears, almost as deep as the wine you'd never be able to appreciate.

Mingyu slowly turned your frame back around to face the sink once again. His hands roamed across your stomach, which was getting bigger and bigger with every day that passed.

Like always, Mingyu felt his heart racing in his chest as he caressed your stomach, his body flooding with that overwhelming emotion he could only describe as true unconditional happiness and love for both of his girls.

Okay, maybe he didn't know the sex of the baby yet, but his gut was telling him he was gonna be a father of a little baby girl, and he was sticking to it for now. His intuition rarely failed him, and if he hadn't stuck to his guns, he would have never got together with you.

"You wouldn't be able to drink it right now anyway, baby. Let's focus on things I'm good at, hm? The kitchen is almost done, and the living room looks beautiful, if I do say so myself. I'm pretty good at painting, so I'll have the nursing done in no time. I just cooked my beautiful wife a wonderful meal that she was moaning about the entire time," he shamelessly declares, the smugness apparent in his voice.

You bite back a sassy remark when you feel his hands traverse up your abdomen, gently grabbing your swollen breasts in his large hands to massage them carefully. Your head relaxes against him as you let out a deep sigh, your husband's skillful hands rubbing away the ache and soreness.

Mingyu studied your blissful expression for what felt like the millionth time. He'd never grow tired of how your eyes would flutter shut, eyelashes resting on the tops of your cheeks as your pretty lips parted, taking deep breaths as you savored the feeling of his hands on your body.

He tilts his head to bring his lips closer to your ear, "And I'm really good at making mommy feel good, isn't that right, baby?"

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids as you let out a breathy laugh, amused but not surprised by your husband's antics.

"You're so annoying, Mingyu," you moan, practically purring your husband's name, which only inflates his ego more.

"How convenient for me; you've always looked so damn sexy when annoyed."

A light bulb lights up in your head as you watch your husband's back muscles as he walks over to the kitchen sink to set aside the dishes.

Let's see how he likes it.

A Cheshire-like smirk paints your lips as you slowly come up behind your half-naked husband to wrap your arms around his waist, your stomach pressing against his tanned skin.

But much to your disappointment, Mingyu didn't give you the reaction you hoped for.

"Gonna keep me company while I wash up?"

You frown and deeply exhale as you crawl your hands further up his torso. Your nails drag along his skin, which generates a shiver throughout his entire being, goosebumps forming on his skin.

"No, I'm trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, but you're enjoying this too much," you reply, your fingers inching further with every word.

A low moan rumbles out of Mingyu as your hands feel up his sore chest from working out right before waking you for breakfast.

Shit, his chest got even bigger. Damn, that home gym he insisted on.

You watch as Mingyu writhes against you as your fingers trail over his nipples, a shaky breath forced out of his body as he grabs the edge of the sink.

He's so annoying.

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czalzver · 11 months

Text

bestfriends sister

a/n: no intentions of posting this at all but here we are!!

warnings: language i think.. lil drabble (might be a part 2)

pairing: jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: in which shes just a tease.

You're round at your best friends house, she contacted you saying on how she wanted to redecorate her bedroom. Of course she contacted you.

You're painting her walls, whilst she puts her furniture together. You have your headphones plugged into your phone. So you have zero idea on what she is saying to you right now.

You feel a tap on your shoulder, turning around as you pull out your headphones, you see Aliyah.

"Are you even listening to me right now?" She says as she rolls her eyes turning back to her phone texting her co-worker.

"Yes, sorry I had my headphones in."

She turned back to you, eyeing the wall you had just painted, looking back to you she says, "My co-worker is feeling sick she wants me to cover for her, so I have to go work, love you, and keep painting those walls!" She says leaving the room.

You furrow your eyebrows, before shrugging it off, you put your headphones back in. A few minutes later pass by, you feel another tap on your shoulder.

"Love you t-" you begin to respond before turning to see- her older sister, Jenna. "Oh-"

She smirked "You love me?" Jenna asks sarcastically. She inched closer to you.

She'd laugh, " I'm kidding, I just saw Aliyah leave, she didn't say anything to me so I'd figure she told you." She told you as your breath shuddered when she got closer.

She looked down at your lips, before biting her own. She closed the gap between you guys, with a gentle kiss.

"..What a surprise!"

When you heard the familiar voice,you pushed Jenna away, her frowning at loss of your lips on hers. Aliyah was here, she just saw you, her best friend kiss her sister.

"We were just—"

Before you could finish she cut you off, "No, no, it's okay.." You all stood their in silence. You looked down at ground before you hear Jenna say, " I'm gonna be back to my room." She pointed out the door before leaving.

Aliyah closed waved at her, and closing the door. "Are you gonna tell me what that was about." She says leaning her back against the door with her arms crossed.

"No— more importantly why am I barely hearing, no seeing about this." You looked at Aliyah, her noticing a red tint on your face.

"I don— I don't know."

You thought to yourself, 'what was that all about..I mean of course I found Jenna cute, but I never thought she'd like me. Like that at least..'

"I need to use the bathroom." You said to Aliyah. "Okay I'm gonna make a snack, want anything?"

You shook your head, Aliyah left the room to the kitchen. You walked past Jenna's room, glancing at it—, you caught her gaze at you. She was looking at you. You were looking at her.

I feel my heart thudding against my ribcage, my breathing pick up at the sight of her. Shit. You break the gaze between you two, making your way to the kitchen. You open the fridge, bending over to grab a water bottle. You feel fingers brush over your ass, your breath hitches, and you look up, to see Jenna smiling at you, drinking water.

"Jenna! Don't do that!" You lightly hit her arm.

"Why? Scared you might enjoy it? Hm?” Jenna walks closer to me, carressing my cheekbone, you warming up to her touch.

"You never know if anyone's watching." I tell her moving her hand away.

"You're worried, and don't want anyone to see us?" She questions, crossing her arms

"I'm not out to Aliyah yet."

"She just saw us kis-"

"Yeah, genius I know, I'm practically forced to tell her, that's if she doesn't bring up."

"Well you should go back to her." Jenna taps her fingers on her water bottle.

You could feel the tension rise up, as if Jenna felt hurt by your words, but how?

Guess you'll find out someday.

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heeliopheelia · 1 year

Text

"there's nothing i'd change about you. i love every single part of you" (niki x reader)

genre: fluff, comfort fic word count: 0.6k requested by @im-yn-suckers ♡

a/n: i felt like writing something lighter tonight so here we go with kinda reversed comfort fic!! i'm working on the next hee drabble as i'm posting this one, so if everything goes well i'll finish the 1k event this week!!

masterlist

A frown makes it way on your face as you check the clock and realize it's been fifteen minutes since your boyfriend's finished his shower. He's been in a foul mood ever since he's come back home, visibly exhausted and irked by every smallest thing on his way. He spat some harsh words at you too, but the instant regret flashing in his eyes each time let you know that he didn't mean them at all.

So you did your best to give him the much needed space, knowing that nothing helps him clear his head more than some time alone, but after such a long time of absolute silence coming from across the hall, you can't help but feel slightly worried.

You call out to him softly and when you get nothing in response, you make your way into the bathroom where Riki is. You tilt the door open and take a peak inside the steamy room, only to feel your heart dropping at the sight of your boyfriend slouching in front of the mirror, hands braced on each side of the sink as his head is hanging lowly, eyelids squeezed shut.

Your eyes soften immediately at the miserable sight and without a shadow of hesitation, you walk towards him.

"You okay, babe?" You put on your most comforting tone as you wrap your arms around his torso from behind. "You've been beating yourself up for a while now, hm? Tell me what's on your mind, handsome?"

"It's just–," he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his face. "I know I can be a lot sometimes. And I'm sorry that you have to deal with all of that so often. You must be tired of this shit by now."

You frown slightly, pulling your head away slightly to press a kiss to his shoulder blade.

"Hey, don't say stuff like that. It's okay, everyone lets their emotions unleash from time to time, it's normal. Would be hard for one to stay perfect all the time," you hum quietly, squeezing his waist a little tighter. "But there's nothing I'd change about you anyway. I love every single part of you. Especially the parts that you love about yourself the least."

Riki breathes out a heavy sigh and finally lets himself relax into you a little bit as the guard that he's kept so high up absolutely crumbles. You can see how exhausted he looks now, the usual playful glimmer abandoned his now nearly dull eyes couple days ago. You slip your hands underneath his shirt and run your warm hands over his abdomen in hopes of bringing him some source of comfort.

"I could never get tired of you," you let out a quiet whisper after another moment of silence, and rest your cheek on his back. "Just because you're not smiling and laughing all day long doesn't mean you're suddenly undeserving of my love, Riki. I love you just as much as I did last week – if not even more."

At that, your boyfriend finally pushes himself off the counter and turns around to draw you in closely into his arms. Leaning down, he buries his face in your hair and holds you tightly as his head buzzes with all the love he carries for you.

"Thank you," he murmurs, hand caressing your hair gently, "for always being here. You're my little angel, you know that, don't you?"

You hum quietly and raise to your toes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "And I'll always stay here. And you will start trying to let me in a little more, okay? It's you and me against the problem – not you against me. Promise me?"

Riki looks at your outstretched pinky finger for couple seconds before intertwining it with his and lifting it up to his lips to seal the pledge with a kiss.

"I promise."

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @dazzlingligth

#carly's 1k event ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა #1k event: requests ✎#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen niki x reader #niki fluff #niki imagines #enhypen niki #niki x reader #nishimura riki x reader

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adiluv-moved · 1 year

Text

✦ : ❝ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

i've always wanted to try making one of these types of posts, and since i didn't have anything easily ready to post this weekend, i figured i'd might as well give it a shot! ꒰ironically, getting the colors to work for all of the character's names was harder than writing everything.꒱ hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀི১

612 words. character order is bold > normal > italic; raiden shogun as the puppet, not ei; written before clorinde, navia, and wriothesley release; barely edited.

Gently. A soft touch that flutters over your knuckles, to the point where you’re left to question whether or not you’d even felt it, their lips pressing against your skin, lingering for a second or two before relocating to another part of your face. There’s no rush, in their mind, only this moment of intimacy between the both of you—only this shared moment where they’re allowed to bathe in your presence the same way you bathe in the sunlight’s warmth.

The rest of Teyvat is left forgotten as they reach for two teacups, arms loosely wrapped around your waist as they guide you to sit beside them, planting a kiss or two on your cheek as they pour a cup for the both of you. You’ll hold each other like this, sipping at your beverages as they inquire about your day—the stresses and responsibilities of theirs fading away in your closeness.

Lisa, Zhongli, Ayato, Dehya, Kazuha, Wriothesley, Kaveh, Navia, Ningguang.

Hesitantly. Unversed in the concept of affection, they’ve yet to entirely adjust to the idea of being in a romantic partnership, the thought of being within one seemingly wholly outlandish before they’d met you. While you’re more than content to take the lead within your relationship, initiating physical affection and all the like, they can’t help but wish to do the same for you—keep you safe within their arms and show you just how grateful they are for your love.

This desire culminates in them walking up behind you, timidly wrapping their arms around you as they ask whether or not you’re comfortable within their hold. This initial experimentation begins with them holding you as though you’re made of glass, though they’ll slowly begin to warm up and become more confident over time. Although their fingers still nervously twitch as they hover over your skin, please don’t tease them too much. They’re trying their best.

Kabukimono, Neuvillette, Xiao, Al-Haitham, Eula, Albedo, Clorinde, Raiden Shogun.

Tenderly. They love you—they’re whipped for you, really—love teasing you for interrupting their work, conveniently ignoring the fact that it was ꒰truthfully꒱ beginning to drive them mad. They silently thank Celestia whenever you visit during the afternoon, squeezing yourself into their chair as the both of you share a meal, allowing their mind a much needed break from their duties—though you’d never know with the flirtatious taunts falling past their lips.

During the evening, your attempts to have them accompany you back to your shared home often result in you sitting atop their lap, leaning into their touch, and listening to their heartbeat as you wait for them to finish up just a few more papers and pack up for the night. Neither of you really even realize just how much time has passed before they’re finally ready to leave, too immersed within your conversation ꒰gossip, of which they hear a lot꒱ to pay attention to the ticking of the clock.

Beidou, Kaeya, Ayato, Childe, Heizou, Wriothesley, Yae Miko.

Possessively. There’s absolutely no contesting their grip once they pull you towards them, arms tightly wrapping around your form and leaving zero chance of escape. They’ll lean down towards you, burying their head in the crook of your neck as you’re held still, whispering against your skin that you’re left unable to decipher—though you suspect it's intentional.

Any semblance of space that existed between the both of you is wholly destroyed, bodies flush against each other and their arms pushing you even further into them—almost as if they’re attempting to fuse the both of you together. Their head turns towards you at some point, stars dancing about in their eyes as you catch sight of the small blush dusting their cheeks. Point it out, however, and they’ll be quick to break the embrace, pushing you away with remarkable speed and insisting that you were mistaken.

Scaramouche, Wanderer, La Signora.

i have a taglist, which you can sign up for here!

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g1rld1ary · 6 months

Note

omg hiiiiii! just saw your requests opened, so excited! i was hoping you could write something for lockwood with the enemies to lovers trope. anything you feel like with that is awesome! and ofc if you don’t want to feel free to not write it 🩷🩷

-mel

what once was ; anthony lockwood x reader

➻ synopsis: you and lockwood hated each other, you had since you were just starting out as agents. when your team is made to work with his on a big case, deeper feelings might just get revealed

➻ word count: 10K (exactly, what are the chances?)

➻ warnings: swearing, mentions of kissing, angst maybe?, injuries

➻ thank u so much for this request lovely!!!! i am SO sorry this took almost a month, but it's the longest fic I've ever posted here so hopefully that makes up for it a little?? if this isn't what u had in mind pls let me know and I'd be happy to write something different! ik it might not be exactly enemies to lovers but I hateee when the dynamic has no respect or reason to be lovers. anyway thank u for the request lolol!!!! xxxxx

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You thought you were a good person. You dedicated your life to fighting ghosts, you helped old ladies cross the street, you recycled when you could. That was enough to be considered a good person, right? You were almost totally convinced, except for the all the vile things you had to say about Anthony Lockwood.

He was, with no exaggeration, the bane of your existence. You had known him all your life, but hadn’t been friends with him since you were both twelve, just beginner agents. And yet, despite all of this hatred burning up within you, it seemed like the universe wouldn’t give you a moment of peace.

You understood running into his company every once in a while — agency events, maybe the occasional case, but lately it seemed like it was every week you had to face Lockwood’s nauseating grin and infuriating attempts at being charming. Whether it was your respective teams being sent on overlapping missions, picking up more supplies or just trying to pick up a coffee after a draining night, you had started to see Lockwood everywhere.

When you saw him again whilst you were picking up some doughnuts for your team you couldn’t help yourself snapping at him.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something, Anthony?” You barely spared him a glance as you finished the transaction with the cashier, quietly thanking him as you left. Lockwood did the same, practically throwing down his cash to catch up to you.

“You wish I was obsessed with you! I am just as unhappy as you are, trust me.”

“So what, you chased after me just say something we both already knew? Or do you have something you’d like to say, an apology perhaps?” You chanced a look in his eyes. Hurt flashed through them, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction.

“I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He cried, almost dropping his own box of pastries when he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. You didn’t try to hide the rolling of your eyes.

“Whatever,” You huffed, before being struck with an idea. “By the way, did you hear that I’m now a team leader? That makes me the youngest in at least ten years — maybe ever. Pretty good for someone not fit to be an agent, don’t you think?” You feigned an interest in his opinion. His face dropped for a moment, then contorted to become almost polite.

“That was never—” You interrupted him with another sigh.

“Anthony, I really don’t care to listen to you discredit my achievements anymore.” You left him on the side of the street, marching back to your dorm at Fittes. You didn’t need to hear him tear you down and ruin your self-confidence more than he already had — not that you would ever tell him that. Lockwood was similarly disgruntled. Every interaction between you two turned into a fight regardless of what he said; he just couldn’t win.

You had a week of blissful distance from Lockwood and Co before you ran into them, quite unfortunately. You and your team had been assigned to an apartment that allegedly housed a few Type Ones, nothing serious but the residents had complained of hearing noises at odd hours. You held a bit of doubt — living in the dorms had forced you to become accustomed to the most bizarre noises at night, and those were most definitely not ghosts. Plus, adults tended to be paranoid; the noise could be anything from rodents to their little children being awake in the early hours of the morning.

Still, you had a job to complete, so you trudged your small team up to the apartment in question, ready for a quick job and to be cozy in bed before midnight. When Lockwood and Co were standing outside the apartment next to your appointed one, your face dropped into a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped, talking directly to Lockwood. He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you, brilliant smile shining.

“Lovely to see you again too, sweetheart, we’re actually here on a job? Nice of you to come as our clean-up crew, but that really won’t be necessary. Run along now.” You had to hand it to him, Lockwood had perfected his condescending tone. You were going to respond when the girl behind him began to talk.

“Hey, I recognise you! You’re—” Lockwood cut her off quickly.

“Alright, Luce, I think it’s time we go inside, don’t you?” He was shepherding the girl through the apartment door before you could process what was happening. George, to his credit, looked highly amused at the whole thing. You always liked George, even when he was at Fittes, and seeing him was usually the only upside to your interactions with Lockwood and Co.

“Who’s the girl?” You asked, nodding your head to where she and Lockwood had disappeared to.

“Lucy Carlyle,” He answered, “She’s a Listener — still learning the ropes.”

“And she knows me how?” George just smiled, and you could tell he was keeping secrets.

“I’m sure you’ll find out one day.” He began to follow the rest of his coworkers and you pouted.

“I hate when you side with him!” You called after him, before composing yourself and directing your own team to start the night. They just went along with it, used to your behaviour, and set up your equipment for the mission.

It was not going well. You could all feel a supernatural presence, but no ghosts and no signs of what you’d thought might’ve been the source. Plus, all you could hear was the apartment next door — their stompy footsteps, their laughter over the tea you knew they always had, and one of them wouldn’t stop knocking on the fucking wall.

It was supremely childish, and you would put all of your bets on it being Lockwood trying to throw you off your game. Unfortunately, it was working. And your bad mood was spreading to your teammates. The mission was certainly not going well, all four of you picking fights and throwing digs at each other as you searched uselessly for what could possible be the source, all with no confirmed supernatural presence.

Just as you were about to say something really cruel to your favourite member of your team, the words died in your throat. The temperature rose a few degrees, and you could practically see all your negative thoughts floating away. By the looks of it, your teammates all felt it too. When the freezing shock of the change wore off, you all resigned to embarrassment, realising exactly what had just happened.

This was only furthered when Lockwood waltzed into the apartment, cocky grin practically blinding you.

“Guess that another successful mission for Lockwood and Co now includes saving the careers of egotistical Fittes agents too now,” He crowed, and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might disconnect from your face.

“Clearly,” You tried to keep your tone level, “The source wasn’t in this apartment, so we couldn’t have found it regardless of if you were here.”

“Plus they were just Type Ones. You didn’t save any lives, Lockwood,” Your best friend, Sarah, piped up and you smirked.

“Maybe not in the physical sense,” He conceded, “But I definitely saved the career of the ‘youngest ever team leader’ — don’t think you would’ve kept the position for very long if you couldn’t fight a simple Type One.” You turned red in humiliation. How dare Lockwood act so high and mighty, like you owed him the career you fought so hard for? You wanted to express all the seething fury that burned your tongue, but the only thing that came out was a vicious declaration.

“I hate you, Anthony Lockwood.” Lockwood at least had the decency to look somewhat hurt. Although you’d been arguing for years with the insults only getting meaner as you both grew up and developed more precise vocabularies, neither of you had ever vocalised any hatred before. It cut deeper than Lockwood thought it would. You didn’t wait to observe the intricacies of his reaction, storming out of the apartment, making sure your kit bag hit him heavily as you passed.

“Well,” Lockwood broke the awkward silence that fell over the apartment, “I think we’re all done for the night. Let’s go.” Lockwood and Co began packing up their kit bags and gear, Lucy sweeping some leftover magnesium dust under an armchair. Lockwood paused in the doorway, looking back to Sarah with a curious softness.

“Make sure she’s alright, yeah?” Sarah nodded, swallowing a curious look. With a final nod he was gone, leaving the rest of your team to wonder what had just happened to shift the dynamic.

Back in your dorm at Fittes, you were still fired up. Pissed off by Lockwood’s ego, his audacity, you had practically already paced a hole in the floor upon your short return from dinner. All of these years and he still didn’t believe you were a capable agent, let alone team leader! You may not have really hated him; it was hard to truly hate someone who you shared so much history with, but you were glad you said it. Glad you hurt him, even a little. Maybe then he’d know how you felt.

He had — probably unwittingly — saved you arse though. It was one of your very first missions and unfortunately Lockwood was right; a team leader who couldn’t defeat a simple Type One, or realise that their case was a goose chase in the wrong apartment, wouldn’t last. So although he was the one who had told you you couldn’t be an agent in the first place, you probably owed your current position to him, which only mad you more mad. It was an endless cycle of being angry at Anthony Lockwood.

When Sarah came in to sit on your bed, you still weren’t done, taking the opportunity to verbalise your stream of thought.

“He is simply the worst person in the whole world and has no respect for me! I mean, he wouldn’t have helped at all if it didn’t serve his own inflated ego ,” You said, throwing your hands in the air in anguish. Sarah simply watched, barely concealing her amusement.

“Ok, but have you considered maybe he just argues back because you hate him? I mean, where did it start?” You huffed, vaulting yourself back onto your mattress.

“When we were twelve years old, he told me I couldn’t be an agent. I said ‘fuck you’ and have worked my bloody arse off to be one despite it, and to become the youngest team leader at Fittes, and yet every time I see him he still tries to sabotage my career or make me look stupid! God, he drives me up the wall!”

“So you’ve said all these horrid things because he didn’t believe in you?” She laughed a little, eliciting a deep frown from you.

“You don’t get it,” You said, tone solemn, “He was my best friend. He was supposed to believe in me even when everyone else said it was dumb.” The dampened mood brought a premature end to your conversation, Sarah leaving you to your thoughts and feelings as you dwelled on the past in a way you would usually forbid yourself from.

You pulled a framed photo out from behind your stack of books on the shelf. You and Lockwood as children, smiling brightly on a day at the beach, a spade in your hand and a bucket in his, your free ones intertwined as kids often do. You didn’t know why you’d kept it after all these years, looking at any photo of Lockwood typically made you mad, but you felt a bit guilty discarding the keepsake, especially the handmade frame his parents had given you one birthday before they passed. Plus, the memory untouched was one of your favourites — one of the last of your carefree days in childhood when you and Lockwood were best friends and both your families were whole. You held it softly for a moment, indulging yourself in being swept away by memories before deciding enough was enough and returning to the present, distracting yourself with a novel you’d picked up.

You were given a few weeks to cool down, blissfully free from any trace of Lockwood. You thought he must’ve been aware of the heightened tension between you recently, since you’d seen Lucy shopping around Arif’s and ran into George whilst getting your usual Friday night takeaway.

Hearing your name being called from around the corner of an aisle you turned quickly, reflexes on edge. Seeing it was just the redhead you relaxed, making yourself smile.

“Oh, hi, Lucy. How are you?” You made polite conversation, continuing on with your shopping. She replied cordially, a vague awkward air between you that you were both trying your best to overcome.

“We’re all really sorry about the case the other day, by the way. We didn’t mean to take it over or jeopardise your job or anything.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured, “I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me, every agent knows that.”

“Yeah, but if Lockwood hadn’t—”

“Lucy,” You interrupted, “You don’t need to condemn Lockwood, or defend him. We both know where we stand with each other and that’s ok. I hope that doesn’t stop us from being friends either; you’re sweet.” Lucy managed a smile, revealing a pretty sparkle in her eye.

“I’d like to be friends too. Maybe we just won’t tell him,” She giggled, and you nodded gravely.

“Sounds like a plan.” You left Arif’s with a bag full of groceries and plan for coffee sometime.

George was less forgiving than Lucy. As you bickered over who got the last can of Coke in the restaurant’s little fridge, he imparted some of his very much unwanted advice.

“You should apologise. I think you crossed a line,” He said and you rolled your eyes.

“He questioned my right to even be where I am — I think I have the right to be pissed at him.”

“He didn’t mean it,” George said quickly. Almost too quickly.

“How would you know?” You narrowed your eyes. George recoiled — he’d been caught.

“You know,” He trailed off, “Lockwood’s not like that. You should know that better than anyone.” You huffed again, fed up.

“I knew,” You corrected, “He’s shown me exactly how he feels about me now. And I am absolutely fine with that. I’m taking the Coke.” You ended the conversation abruptly, snatching the can out of George’s grip.

“But Lockwood doesn’t like any of the other flavours!” He called after you. You exaggerated a laugh, not looking back as you opened the restaurant door quickly.

“I know!” You yelled over your shoulder. George watched you leave, calculating look in his eyes. You said you hated Lockwood, he didn’t doubt you believed it, too. But he knew that most people didn’t remember which fizzy drinks their enemies liked.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Thankfully, you got just the distraction you needed. Your team had been given one of the most exciting cases on the Fittes roster. One of those old boutique hotels with funnily named rooms and a long, terrible history that had you buried in fascinating research. You couldn’t believe your team had been given the assignment, it was a sign that you were really beginning to be respected as a team leader in the agency. So, you couldn’t screw it up.

You and your team had been practically camped out in the Fittes archives, researching as much as you possibly could about the old hotel. There were a smattering of unfortunate deaths across the years — some darker than others, but you were confident it was nothing you couldn’t handle. The owners hadn’t specified exactly what supernatural experiences they had seen around the hotel, just that it was clear there were several presences around and they wanted them all gone to reopen the hotel as soon as possible. This did admittedly make you a little apprehensive — you didn’t actually have a solid idea of how many ghosts you’d be dealing with, and it was anyone’s guess how many of them would be Type Twos.

Finally, you were confident you and your team had done as much research as you could, and you were prepared for anything. And so you packed your kit bags, took the train ride and rocked up to the hotel mid afternoon, confidence overflowing. By nightfall you’d been on a tour of the grounds, set up your base and had started brewing some tea to get you all in the zone. You took a glance out the front window, seeing movement in one of the windows of the house next door. It was owned by the people who ran the hotel and they intended to open it as a second venue, but delegated the job to some smaller agency since the stakes for it weren’t as high.

It was all going well for a while. You had a plan to go room by room, making each ghost free before finishing in the majorly haunted kitchen. You were inclined to believe there’d be a cluster of Type Twos there since it was set alight years ago, and the accident had been swept under the rug in favour of saving the business.

The entryway was easy; a few Type Ones that practically led you their sources, clearly just wanting to finally be laid to rest. There was one nasty Limbless that gave you all a fright, but your researcher, Ben, was always miles ahead of the rest of you and knew exactly who the ghost was and therefore how to put him to rest. You told him you owed him a beer later and moved on, crossing a single room off the floor plan and shifting into the library, which was not so easy.

You started to think things were not as great as you originally anticipated when you turned to face the mass of Type Ones. Not the end of the world, a little bloody annoying though. Sarah seemed to agree, kicking the leg of a couch in frustration. The four of you figured your way out of it, though significantly depleted of supplies.

You returned to your home base to recoup, physically and mentally battered.

“What’s the plan?” Sarah asked, chugging down mouthfuls from her water bottle. You bit the inside of your cheek as you thought hard, tapping your fingers insistently on the old wooden table.

“Alright, I think we’ve got enough for one more safely. Kyan, you go outside and get the rest of our equipment whilst we hit the second bedroom.”

“If we’re right then there should only be the one ghost there, right? The strangled woman?” You nodded in response to Ben, mentally drawing your plan.

“And if you’re wrong?” Kyan asked.

“We won’t be,” You affirmed, tapping twice on the table to get you all moving.

Kyan left the building to go fetch the spare supplies and the remaining three of you ventured into the second bedroom. Everything was as it should be; lower temperature, creeping feelings of unease and miasma. You’d put together your chain circle and were feeling good about the Type Two woman you were facing, well, as good as you could in those circumstances.

That was, until it wasn’t just one Type Two. Despite the research and preparation you’d undertaken, there was definitely more than one Type Two enraged by your presence in the room at that moment. There was the woman, an angry apparition of some sort — you didn’t have the time to exactly figure out which subtype she fell into when a man also appeared. Shit. He wasted no time showing you he was aggressive too, and your heart sunk into your toes.

Doing some quick mental calculations, you announced the new plan — to get out. As team leader, you refused to be responsible for an injury or something worse because you wouldn’t back down when you knew you didn’t have enough defences left.

“Soon as it’s safe, get the fuck out of here,” You said, feeling to make sure they were still both in the circle with you as you stood with backs inward. “Use your defences as liberally as you feel you need to — we’re all getting out of here tonight.”

“What about the sources?” Sarah asked nervously, “We’ve only got one or two so far.”

“Who cares? Most agencies get one or two a mission and we’re in a giant bloody hotel. We’ve got more nights to get this done. We can’t get it done if you lot go off and die, can we?” Ben shrugged.

“S’pose not. Let’s go.” With that the three of you made a run for it, bolting out the bedroom door and into the corridor.

“Oh fuck!” You yelled, dodging out the way of another phantom headed your way. Evidently your previous endeavours had attracted the attention of some of the other ghosts inhabiting the hotel, none looking all that happy.

Your swear words didn’t falter as you continued the escape, ducking and jumping and making an utter fool of yourself to ensure you all made it out alive. You’d been covered by Sarah a few minutes ago with one of her magnesium flares, and so returned the favour without hesitation, only faltering slightly when you realised it was your last. You tried not to worry about it too much, you were nearing the laundry where there was a back door you could get to.

The closer you got to your escape the fewer visible apparitions there were. That was a good thing, your chances of ghost touch reducing greatly. However, that didn’t mean you weren’t still being hunted. A poltergeist had found you somewhere along the way, and the stream of things being thrown at you hadn’t ended yet. You’d vaguely felt something heavy hitting the back of your head and shoulders, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins was withholding the pain for the moment.

You’d crossed the threshold into the laundry, the back door within your sights. Maybe you got complacent, believing the end was nearer than you thought. Maybe it was just awful timing. However, as your feet hit the tiles of the room, you were being swept off your feet by the washing machine sliding into you, crushing you between it and the wall. You cried out unintentionally, feeling a sickening crack inside your chest. Your teammates turned back, door wide open and safety in sight.

“Don’t you dare come back for me,” You croaked, the wind pushed out of you. “Or I swear to God I’ll come and haunt you.” Ben took the threat and ran, ducking out the door into the fresh air of the night. Sarah hesitated, turning back to lock eyes with you, regret painted across her features. With a final threat she left too, leaving you to try and push the machine away from you in order to make your own escape. However, in an unfortunate series of events, the adrenaline started to wear off after your chase and you felt the sharp pain running along your skull, a thick drop of blood making its way down from a strand of hair into your left eye. Plus, you were pretty sure the machine had broken one of your wrists as any pressure you put onto it trying to move the machine set your nerves on fire, leaving you just your legs to try and make an escape. Turns out it’s harder than it looks to push a stupidly heavy washing machine away from you with your legs when you’re incapacitated on the floor.

Seeing your best friend the strangled woman approaching you sighed, trying to resign yourself to your fate. There was no way you were making it out without a miracle, and you were never the lucky kind. As she spotted you, you sealed your eyes tightly closed, unwilling to watch your own demise. It never came. When you chanced one eye open all you saw was sparks, the unmistakeable smell of a magnesium flare filling the room. You didn’t know what to feel. Relieved, of course, pissed off that your team had disrespected your wishes and endangered themselves, faint from the adrenaline and blood loss. Mostly faint, you decided, as you lay your head back against the tile, a sleep sounding like the nicest thing in the world suddenly.

You must have passed out for a minute or two as when you opened your eyes again you were in the air, distant voices yelling over the explosions and lights, but you felt a million miles away. You cuddled yourself into the body of whoever was carrying you — they were warm and your body felt ice cold. Everywhere you looked appeared blurry (and slightly pink, presumably from the blood in your eye), so you granted yourself some mercy and simply closed them. You thought you heard a mumbled “Hold on for me,” But you couldn’t be sure, everything was ringing in your head and the weight of staying awake was heavy on your foggy brain.

The next time you woke up was about half an hour later, or so you guessed. The sky was fractionally lighter than you remembered seeing, inching towards dawn, and you were laid down on dewey wet grass. The cool of it was nice on your skin, though you knew it would do major damage to your hair. Not that that was your greatest concern at the moment. You pushed yourself up on your elbows slowly, looking around at the scene that was coming into focus. Your team were on one side of you, looking exhausted but mostly physically fine. Straight ahead of you was Barnes, not looking as disappointed as you thought he would after a failed case. To your left was Lockwood and Co. Why were Lockwood and Co here? Why was Lockwood looking at you so intently, and why did he look like he was worried about you?

Only the first of your questions was answered. Evidently Lockwood and Co were the ‘small agency’ the hotel owners had given a chance for the smaller house on the edge of the property. They heard the commotion your team had made and Sarah’s screaming outside the kitchen door and came to save the day — of course. You were about to put up the protest that you didn’t need saving but it died in your throat when you saw the serious looks of everyone around you. Clearly this wasn’t the time for any of your bullshit.

“Clearly this case is bigger than your team can achieve,” Barnes said, and the fire was reignited within you. He must have been able to see what you were going to say and cut you off, “But I’m not taking you off the case.”

“Thank you,” You said quickly, tension in your shoulders releasing slightly.

“Lockwood and Co will work with you until the hotel is ghost free.”

“What?” You and Lockwood cried in unison, and you felt his eyes fall back on you. You refused to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—” You started, being cut off by Lockwood.

“We don’t work well together—”

“I happen to know you both need this case, or do you not care about the future of your jobs?” Barnes raised an eyebrow in the intimidating way only he could pull off. He had you there. Failing in a case, especially one that resulted in a near death experience would certainly jeopardise your trajectory at Fittes, and, unbeknownst to you, Lockwood and Co were pretty desperate for some good representation, unable to receive the praise deserved from the Combe Carey Hall case. You looked at Lockwood to find him already searching your face. After a moment of silent arguing between the two of you, you turned back to face Barnes, exaggerated smiles on both your faces.

“We’ll do it.” You smiled sweetly. A few more formalities sent Barnes and the other DEPRAC officer off, and only the two teams were left standing around, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of all the kit bags.

“So what do we do now?” Sarah asked, a thought very similar to the ones bouncing around your head at the moment.

“Breakfast?” George suggested, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen your team agree to something so enthusiastically. The group of you all headed back to the train station, but Lockwood didn’t let you continue in the line to get your ticket. Instead he pulled you away from the crowd, seeming to have already told Lucy what was happening, judging from her cheerful wave goodbye.

You glared at him, yanking your arm away then groaning at the pain.

“What are we doing, Lockwood?” You asked with an exaggerated huff.

“We’re going to the hospital,” He said, unbothered by your protests. “And don’t say you’re fine because it’s clear you’re injured. I’d say a broken wrist, concussion and maybe a cracked rib, but we can let the doctors tell us I’m wrong, I’d be happy for them to tell you otherwise.” That shut you up, not least because you knew he was probably right. You’d been given a shot of adrenaline and a few painkillers by the DEPRAC officer who accompanied Barnes over, but you probably did need actual medical attention.

It was a very awkward cab ride to the local hospital. You and Lockwood were so used to arguing by now that silence felt like the only other viable option. You couldn’t make small talk, what would you even talk about? The only thing you knew about his life was his childhood, and you sure as hell weren’t gonna talk about that. The tension was palpable in the backseat, and when the cab driver wished you good luck for the hospital visit, you figured he didn’t just mean because of your injuries. You did force yourself to thank Lockwood when he paid for the ride though, even if it was just for the sake of the day moving on faster.

At least the waiting room created its own noise; beeping and chattering and footsteps filling the silence between you two. You struggled with the form in front of you, inconveniently having your dominant hand be out of working order. You painfully etched out your information over an embarrassing amount of time before Lockwood huffed loudly and snatched the clipboard from your lap.

“Fuck’s sake,” He muttered, pulling his own pen from his suit pocket, beginning to scribble down the answers for you. You just relaxed, your tired, drug-addled brain being allowed to rest for a moment. It wasn’t until he asked about your health insurance that you fully realised he was answering the questions by memory and forced your eyes to focus on the paper. Sure enough he’d gotten it all right, birthday and middle name included. You glanced up at him curiously, but it seemed like this was the moment he refused to make eye contact. You only had to inform him of things that had changed since you’d fallen out, neither of you verbalising that fact.

Things didn’t change when you were called into the doctor’s office either. The mix of pain, medicine and sleep deprivation led you to embrace the exam table and bordered on falling asleep as Lockwood talked for you. He’d gotten the rundown of the actual events from Sarah and his brief moments when he saved you, and explained the night as you got an x-ray for your hand. Plus, as you were waiting for the cast (it was, in fact, broken), he explained your previous medical history — the knee you dislocated when you were nine and the broken pinky finger from the year after. You only had to participate to explain the injuries you’d acquired during your career as an agent; the ones from after you and Lockwood stopped being friends.

The whole trip was extremely bizarre and slightly unnerving, and you were glad to get on the train on the way back.

“You were wrong about one thing,” You said, pulling out your walkman from your kit bag.

“And what’s that?” Lockwood asked, and you got the impression he was bracing to be yelled at again — you felt almost bad.

“No cracked rib for me.” You grinned, beginning to laugh uncharacteristically. You didn’t know why, it really wasn’t that funny, but Lockwood followed suit soon after. The two of you laughed borderline hysterically, much too energetic for that hour of the morning when everyone else was still heading to work. It only tapered off when your poor ribs couldn’t take it anymore (not broken but aggressively bruised), and the two of you fell back into silence. You had your music and Lockwood had a magazine you suspected he’d stolen from the A+E waiting room.

The only other time you spoke during the trip was when you summoned the courage to utter a somewhat genuine “Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thanks. For not letting me die. And stuff.”

“Oh. You’re welcome,” Lockwood shot you a smile, the glowing kind you rarely got to see anymore.

As you got back to London and closer to Portland Row where your team was waiting, the air seemed to get thicker between the two of you once again. Maybe it was the proximity to the things that had torn you apart or the sense that you had predefined roles to play, but the carefree air between you had dissipated, leaving only the familiar tension that had been building over the last four years.

You followed Lockwood inside, trying to hide the out of body experience you were having returning to his family home after so many years. It had changed a little, of course, but still felt overwhelmingly the same, which both scared and comforted you. All the freaky foreign ghost hunting objects still littered the shelves, and you took the liberty of admiring them once again, remembering the stories Lockwood’s parents would tell about them and the adventures they’d had when collecting them. In your periphery you saw Lockwood hurriedly grab something off the wall by the stairs, shoving it in a drawer, but you really had no interest, choosing instead to reacquaint yourself with the house. The glimpse you got up the stairs showed a myriad of framed pictures of Lockwood and you scoffed — of course his ego would be on full display within his own home.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

It was surprisingly easy to get into the groove of working with Lockwood and Co. Obviously you already liked George and Lucy, but your team seemed to work unexpectedly well with theirs. You and Lockwood stayed out of each other’s ways, the few times you were left to work together resulting in another stupid argument. The first time when you thought he was calling you dumb, the second over something minuscule; who’d let the tea brew too long so it tasted shit. And then who had to subsequently get up and make the next pot. Despite both of you honestly trying to be professional and get on with the job, it was agreed by everyone that it was simply easiest to keep the two of you apart as much as possible.

However, when the hotel owners wanted the leaders of both teams to meet up for updates on the case, you couldn’t get out of it. The day wasn’t looking good. You’d shown up to Portland Row so you could get a cab together — the meeting being dinner in central London, and had already argued with him over his choice of socks. In your defence, the powder blue socks matching your dress did make it look like you were a high school couple trying to match at a formal! However, George had rolled his eyes and pushed the two of you back out and towards the waiting cab, effectively ending that argument. You’d also teased Lockwood for bringing his rapier to a business dinner, but that was neither here nor there.

You’d held it together for most of the dinner, both of you putting on your best fronts and using your most formal tones to convince the elder couple that you were confident about the case. You found yourself kicking his shins to stop Lockwood from making promises you couldn’t keep regarding the case, and he got you back with condescending remarks, correcting you when he disagreed with how you presented the case. Altogether though you thought you were pretty subtle, and the two of you were presenting a model image of your respective companies.

However, when you shot Lockwood one of your saccharine smiles under the pretence of friendliness — he’d just undermined your authority again and stolen the best piece of dessert that you were going for, as if he didn’t torture you enough — you were shocked to hear the woman across from you laugh.

“It’s so wonderful to see you two bicker like an old married couple,” She giggled, and both you and Lockwood’s jaws dropped. “I mean, it just seems so dismal to be dating in these times, but you two give me hope that the future generations will still be able find love despite the Problem.”

“And clearly you’re both sensible kids, which is very important for a lasting relationship. Working for two different agencies would surely diffuse tensions around all those dangerous missions and such you agents partake in — except for this one, of course,” Her husband chimed in, jolly glint in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, but it’s important to remember to be kids as much as you can. But you two playing footsies all night has proved that you’ve got that covered too. Silliness is just as crucial as being sensible, it’s how a marriage stays fun. We would know, we’ve had fifty odd years of it!”

You didn’t know how to react, and by the looks of it, Lockwood didn’t know either with his signature smile frozen on his face. First of all, you were not playing footsies with Anthony Lockwood — the bruise forming under his trouser leg was testament to that. Second of all, you had no idea how the woman could get your dynamic so incredibly wrong. Aside from all of Lockwood’s double edged comments and cocky corrections of basically anything you said, the two of you had hardly addressed each other directly all night, you might as well have been strangers!

The dinner wrapped up very soon after. The couple had taken a liking to you both and so trusted your teams to handle the case as you saw fit, only making you promise to take a romantic weekend getaway (or honeymoon! As the woman had remarked optimistically) to the hotel once it was completely ghost-free and renovated. For once you were glad that Lockwood was unable to ever shut up as he took the lead, seeming to believe that corroborating their assumption was the best choice in your situation. You weren’t sure you were entirely comfortable with lying to this sweet old couple, but you couldn’t deny that Lockwood was a better talker than you, and would probably handle the situation with more delicacy.

That was how you ended up being led out of the restaurant with Lockwood’s hand on the small of your back. You wondered if he’d ever done this before, and you didn’t know if you meant for a real or pretend relationship. You both said your goodbyes to the couple, flattered by the abundance of compliments they paid you — both personally and professionally, assuring you they were overjoyed to have your teams work the case. Just before they stepped into the cab the woman took you aside.

“Hold onto a boy who looks at you like that,” She said, “You might fight, but when he’s this in awe of you, you’ll find a way to make it work.” You didn’t know how to respond to that and so simply nodded, offering a weak smile as she slid into the back seat of the taxi.

That left you and Lockwood alone. You just looked at each other for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.

“Do you mind if we walk home? I really fancy some air right now.” Lockwood easily agreed, looking rather flustered himself, and off the two of you went into the night.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but you could tell he wanted to. Lockwood always chewed his lip when he was holding something back, he had since he was a child. You sighed and asked him, knowing it was the only way to make the habit go away.

“Nothing,” He said, “Just weird. Don’t you think?”

“Nah,” You lied, “Old people just say things like that all the time. They don’t care to know the full picture.”

“Which is?”

“We hate each other.” Hurt flashed through his eyes, but it didn’t make you feel as good as it did the first time you’d said it.

“I don’t hate you,” He said quietly, almost a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t hate you. We don’t get along anymore, but I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” You faltered for a second. Had his use of ‘anymore’ been intentional to create a stabbing feeling in your gut?

“Oh. I guess I don’t really hate you either, if we’re getting sappy about it.” You tried to diffuse the tension growing between you, not wanting it to evolve into a discussion about what estranged you in the first place. Lockwood refused to apologise and you refused to forget, resulting in the bitter stalemate you’d been locked in for the past few years.

Your distraction came with a glance over Lockwood’s shoulder, and the wisp of a phantom coming into view. Lockwood was trying to continue the conversation about your developing relationship, but stopped when he noticed you frozen beside him. Turning slowly he swore when he saw the ghost, going straight for his rapier.

“Put your hand into my coat pocket,” He said, effectively drawing you from your freeze.

“Excuse me?” You whisper-yelled, not in the mood for him to try and lighten the mood with whatever dumb joke he was trying to make.

“Just trust me, I have flares in the inside pocket, just reach in and grab them to defend yourself whilst I keep an eye on them.” Them? You wondered until you looked around, seeing other ghosts start to emerge from the shadows, attracted by the scene you were obviously creating. You wasted no more time, ignoring the intimacy of reaching into Lockwood’s jacket, grabbing yourself a flare for each hand. With you accounted for, Lockwood told you the plan, he’d fight a path back to Portland Row and you’d cover the both of you with the flares, since you weren’t good for very much else with a broken wrist and no rapier.

It was hardly the most intense situation you or Lockwood had been in, but as the primary fighter in the situation, Lockwood was still putting up a good show of skill. Despite yourself you were entranced, admiring the graceful way he moved with the rapier, so in tune with it you’d think it was connected to his arm. As much as you hated Lockwood — well, you’d just established you didn’t actually hate him. As much as you thought he was egotistical and irritating, you had to admit that you really admired him as an agent. Lockwood was undeniably talented with a rapier — it was the fencing competition that got him started in this business in the first place — but to watch him in action was really something special. If you didn’t know better you’d think it was easy for him, he fought with the same ease and elegance he might drink a cup of tea.

You were so caught up in watching him that you hardly noticed when you arrived in front of 35 Portland Row, both luckily un-ghost touched. You were also alerted to the proximity you’d found yourself in. You’d stayed close obviously, not wanting to be left to the ghosts, but when Lockwood had turned to make sure you were still with him safely inside the iron fence, you found yourself only inches apart.

At this distance you were alerted to just how much he’d changed since you were kids. He was taller, obviously, your chin tilted up to make eye contact. He’d lost the baby fat that used to fill out his cheeks, leaving his face defined and bordering on gaunt — you figured he wasn’t taking very good care of himself, judging on the dark circles that seemed by now permanent. Plus something had changed in his eyes. He didn’t look carefree anymore, something dark and tortured lay behind the charming smiles. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was, and you figured you probably had something identical. However, the small scar on his jawline from when you accidentally flung a plastic toy into his face was still there which drew a small smile from you. Something within you urged to run your finger along it, and you felt your fingers twitch before you realised how inappropriate it was. That instinct didn’t feel so bad though when you caught Lockwood’s gaze shift down to your lips. Only momentarily, but you saw it. And worse? The fact that you didn’t mind. After all of these years and the fighting and terrible words shared, here you were maybe about to kiss Anthony Lockwood. You would be disgusted with yourself if you didn’t have so many other feelings fighting their way to the top.

The front door opening was enough to make you both jump apart, you rushing towards it to get as far from Lockwood as possible.

“Hey Lucy!” You called, practically floating up the front steps you were going so fast.

“Uh, hey, guys. We thought we heard you outside so I got sent to check. Had to make sure you weren’t secretly making out or something,” She joked and you forced out a laugh, far too loud to be real.

“As if! Come on, I’m dying for some tea.” You slid past her, rushing straight to the kitchen for a minute to think.

Lucy watched you go suspiciously, before turning to Lockwood.

“What did you do?” She interrogated, all her scary Lucy-ness coming out.

“I don’t know,” Lockwood replied earnestly, still somewhat dazed himself. Lucy gave him one last look up and down before returning inside, leaving Lockwood to fix his smile on before rejoining the two teams.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

The week leading up to your team’s next attempt at the hotel was extremely weird. You and Lockwood hadn’t spoken about what had happened (or almost happened) out in the front garden, but you had had a long talk about your behaviour lately. Over a few cups of tea in the kitchen whilst the rest of your teams were working down in the basement, you managed to both admit you were being dickheads. There was no mention of the underlying factors of your resentment, but you both agreed for the sake of your jobs you would try and be friends, or at least civil. No more bickering, no more picking apart small comments, no more rolling eyes.

It worked for a bit, which was really complicating your emotions. On the one hand, Lockwood was lovely, like he’d always been, and it was kind of nice to be able to talk and joke with him again after so many years, although you both carefully avoided the topic of your personal lives. On the other hand, it made you sad to pretend that everything was fine when you knew what you did. He didn’t think you could be an agent; Lockwood didn’t think you were good enough. And you could both pretend all you liked to be friends, but as long as that was what he thought about you it could never be real. So, while you’d both stopped your rivalry on the surface and gotten on with the case, there was a tension bubbling behind your smiles that both of you could see whenever you locked eyes.

It all came to a head when you started discussing your action plan for the hotel. All seven of you were standing in the basement of Portland Row, staring at a blown up floor plan of the place, little figurines representing each of you. It didn’t take you long to realise that you weren’t being represented.

“Where am I?” You asked, an uneasy silence falling over the room.

“You’re not coming.” Lockwood took the fall, even though it had been a unanimous decision whilst you were on an Arif’s run one afternoon.

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the biting tone in your words, fury you’d worked hard to conceal bubbling back up to the surface.

“Your wrist—” Sarah tried to reason, but something in you had unlocked and you were not backing down this time.

“You and I know full well if this was a Fittes case I would still be out in the field, broken wrist be damned,” You spat, and you could practically see the gears turning in Lockwood and Lucy’s heads.

“They make you go into the field injured?” Lucy asked, but you weren’t focused on answering her — George nodded for you.

“So who’s barred me from being in the field, on what I might remind you, was my case first.” There were a few moments of silence where no one wanted to be the subject of your anger, but with a resigned sigh, Lockwood accepted the blame.

“It was my idea.” You couldn’t help the frustrated groan that came out of your mouth.

“God, this is so typical! You’ve never thought I was good enough, and now what? Sabotaging my cases? My career? Because you don’t believe in me,” Your voice broke on the last sentence, and you could feel the tears heavy behind your eyes, threatening to fall. You spat a final “Fuck you,” before running up the basement stairs, up to where you knew the bathroom would be for some privacy.

You realised when you were at the top of the stairs that in your time working with Lockwood and Co you hadn’t actually used their bathroom, and didn’t remember which of the closed doors it was. Choosing one blindly you shut yourself inside, finally letting the tears that blurred your vision roll down your cheeks.

You sobbed heavily, indulging all the terrible feelings you’d been concealing for far too long. When the tears weren’t so frequent the setting around you came back into focus, and you noticed with a start you definitely weren’t in the bathroom. The view from the window told you it was Lockwood’s late parent’s bedroom, but the used furniture and messy bed said someone was still living there. Your stomach dropped as you stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. Looking around you were sure this was Lockwood’s room, the suit jacket on the desk chair a dead giveaway. However, a picture frame on his nightstand attracted your attention the most. It was the same one you had in your dorm at Fittes, the one gifted to you by Lockwood’s parents for your birthday. Both of you grinning widely and carelessly joyful. It had been so long since you’d felt like that, even longer since you’d felt it around Lockwood. The thought made your heart ache a bit. His parents would be so disappointed in the two of you. That made you start crying a little again, picking up the photo to examine it closer.

“It’s been there since you left,” A voice from behind you said. “I couldn’t bring myself to put it away.” You hadn’t noticed Lockwood come in and you didn’t know how long he’d been standing there. You put the photo down with a start, turning away to wipe your face dry again.

“Go away, Lockwood. Just give me a minute and I’ll be back downstairs. I overreacted but I need to get over it, okay?” You snapped, praying your face wasn’t still red and splotchy (it was).

“No,” He said, and you turned to face him curiously. “Look, this has gone on long enough and we need to fix things.” You crossed your arms petulantly, a silent challenge for him to fix the damage you believed to be all his. “You said downstairs that I thought you couldn’t be an agent. Why?”

“Don’t you remember when I told you I wanted to be an agent like you?” You scoffed, “You all but laughed in my face! You said I couldn’t do it, that I’d be injured or killed and I couldn’t handle it. I’ve thought about that every case since, you killed my self esteem for years. I thought that if no one else, my best friend should have believed in me. But here I am, youngest team leader at Fittes with the highest successful case rate for my division. All in spite of you.” Lockwood stared at you, and you could practically see his neurons firing and making connections at a million miles an hour.

“That’s not what I said.” You could barely contain your bitter laugh.

“Does it matter? You didn’t believe in me, that’s what’s important.”

“No,” He said, “Because that’s not what I meant at all. I did believe in you — I do. I always have.” You scoffed again as he stumbled over his words. A little grovelling now couldn’t make up for all the years of anxiety and insecurity he’d caused.

“I mean it! If I didn’t believe in you, then what’s all this?” He led you to one of his dresser drawers. Opening it there were a stack of papers and you picked a few of them up, flipping through them. Every single one was about you. Photos from your childhood together, newspaper clippings of your successes throughout the years, the magazine article you interviewed for talking about women in power in the ghost hunting field. Lockwood had saved every piece of media about you, the ragged edges showing he’d ripped them out just to keep them. You remained silent, astonished by this new revelation. You looked up at him, and Lockwood could have cried at the look in your eyes.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be an agent,” He explained, “Or that’s not what I meant. I meant that you shouldn’t, or more clearly, I was saying don’t. Asking. Don’t you remember? My parents were dead, my sister had just died. You were all I had left, and I didn’t want you to jump head first into the most dangerous job in the world. I wanted to protect you.” It was Lockwood’s turn for his voice to break and tears to arise, and you suddenly felt supremely stupid.

“Oh,” Was all you could say. After all of these years; the insults thrown and dirty looks exchanged, all your anger came from a misunderstanding? Not only that, a misunderstanding that twisted such an earnest declaration of care into something so awful.

“But you did it, and you weren’t just any agent,” He laughed slightly despite his emotions, “You were the best bloody agent Fittes has ever seen and all I could do was watch from the shadows and be proud of you silently. Why do you think Lucy knew who you were already? There were pictures of you all over the house before I made them take them all down when I knew we were working together. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“But all the arguing…” You trailed off, still unable to completely process this information.

“Just because I love you doesn’t mean you don’t drive me up the wall, especially when you were being — or I believed you were — deliberately obtuse to my efforts to explain myself. But now I see we were just on totally different wavelengths.” You were really struggling, there was a lot of new information being revealed at such a rapid pace that was completely changing your perspective on your whole adolescence.

“You love me?” Lockwood did laugh this time, loudly and with the same charm he usually had.

“Yes, you idiot. I have since we were kids.”

Oh. Oh. You suddenly felt like an idiot. All of this time you thought that Lockwood believed you were weak, not good enough, not worthy of your successes, when in fact it was the complete opposite. And then you thought about how you felt about Lockwood. How his believed lack of faith in you affected you so much because you cared so deeply about what he thought of you. How you could never bring yourself to look away when he was fighting because he was so completely in his element. How nice it had been to be able to joke around with him during your research. Oh God. You thought you simply respected him and his skills as an agent, but evidently the truth had been just out of reach your whole life.

“Anthony?” He was already looking at you, eyes searching deep into your soul. “I think I might love you too.” Neither of you could help the kiddish smiles making their way on your faces, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly before you knew what was happening. It felt nice to be held by him again, the last time would have been after his sister died. These were much better circumstances.

When you both came down the stairs later, no one mentioned your intertwined hands. You all had a lovely dinner at Portland Row, warmth and laughter filling the space and making you feel at home like you used to when you were a kid.

It wasn’t until you were on your way back to the Fittes dorms that Sarah leaned over to you, mischievous grin on her face.

“Tell me you were making out up there, please,” She giggled, and you shoved her away lightheartedly.

“Shut up,” You laughed, “Besides, it wasn’t making out.”

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