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annwrites · 2 months

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sons & daughters. part three.

— pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: cregan gives you a tour of the crypts & you begin to open up to one another. sharing truths continue that afternoon in the godswood when you are alone together.

— word count: 6,777

— a/n: i hope this all flows together okay. the godswood portion was actually supposed to happen sooner, but then chapter 2 came along & i rearranged some things so it could still fit.

The next morn comes early with a rapt knock at your door, which interrupts your slumber.

It had taken some time, after parting from Lord Stark, for you to find rest.

You had spent a handful of hours in bed reading, even peeking outside from your balcony when you began to hear wolves howling in the distance. Instead of the sound frightening you, however, it had instead filled you with a sense of longing.

Their singing at the moon was what had eventually lulled you to sleep, though.

You slowly rise, rubbing at your tired eyes before throwing on a shawl and padding over to the door, ready to wring Jace’s neck—as if whatever he wants cannot wait another hour or two. Someone will most certainly become dragon meal, but it won’t be you.

You open the door and promptly shut your open mouth when you are instead met with the sight of Lord Cregan, standing tall before you. Dressed and ready for the day in polished black leather, looking down at you, his eyes trailing along your body before meeting your own once again.

You watch as he swallows thickly, licking his lips.

“Forgive me, Princess. I have woken you.”

You had not been aware he would wish to visit the crypts so early in the morn.

Yet another mistake by you. But of course. What else?

You shake your head, quickly tucking wild strands of hair behind your ears. “No, My Lord, it is I who should apologize. I…could not find sleep the night last. I’m afraid I thus overslept. I have not forgotten about your offer, to show me the crypts.”

You glance behind you, toward your wardrobe, then back to the young lord. “If you would give me a moment, My Lord, to dress, and I will join you promptly.”

You feel wholly off-kilter like this. Tired—just having woken—not properly dressed.

Forgetful.

He nods, once, eyes glancing to your bare feet. “Princess.”

Once dressed, you emerge from your chambers in a soft, warm gray gown, your hair braided and resting atop your shoulder with various pearl pins shoved into it, and you are bundled up beneath your dress, same as the day previous.

Cregan is leaned against the wall opposite your door, foot planted against it, wrist hanging loosely over the pommel of his sword, and when his head rises to look at you, a small smile graces his lips.

He steps toward you then, reaching out, taking your braid between his fingers, which slide gently down the length of it, fingertips brushing over the small baubles you’ve placed along it.

His eyes flit to yours then, as he drops his hand, offering you his arm. “Shall we go, Y/N?”

You merely nod, at a loss for words at his simple touch, as you wrap your own arms securely round his own.

The two of you walk quietly across the yard, crisp snow crunching under your feet, only a few about at this early hour, such as servants and kitchen staff—the sun just beginning to rise in the east. You pull your cloak more tightly around yourself, the morning chill biting against your skin.

And then Cregan leads you underground, down a winding set of stone stairs, until darkness envelops the two of you for only a moment—your heart pounding in your ears—until brazier upon brazier comes into sight, lining an endless dark tunnel—crypts on either side, of men and women both.

You suddenly release Cregan’s arm then, stepping up to the first one you see in wonder.

“Torrhen Stark,” Cregan remarks from behind you.

You look over his finely carved face, deeming him ruggedly handsome.

Cregan comes to stand beside you.

“Do you...regret what he did?” You ask quietly.

He glances to you with a raised brow. “I believe it would be considered treason to.”

You remain silent, awaiting a proper answer.

He sighs. “I suppose at times, perhaps. But had he not, you would not now be here.”

He would be all the more fortunate for it, you think.

“Had he not, had the kingdoms not been broken apart into seven pieces—truly eight, when you think about it—I doubt such a potential war would be brewing at the moment, making my presence here wholly unnecessary.”

“Even before the conquest, we still yet fought one another.”

You nod, stepping over to the next crypt. “Do you not think it better, for those who best understand their lands and customs and people to control them, as opposed to…an outsider?”

He is taken aback to hear you say such things. Northern Independence is not a new idea, but for you to desire independence for all from Southron serpents...

You turn to look at him.

You wrap your arms round yourself. “I only meant… The realm is very large, and to have one head leading it seems a miscalculation, mayhaps.”

There is a beat of silence before you speak again. “I am only glad it will never be mine own.”

You glance down to a direwolf crypt, smiling at it. You weren’t aware stonemasons designed such things. “My duties will, instead, lie in other areas,” you then state.

His brows furrow. “Such as?”

You grow quiet then.

“Y/N,” he presses.

You do not wish to speak on the matter, knowing soon enough such arrangements will come to surely pass. They nearly had once already, and not so long ago, at that.

Mayhaps…you should have agreed. But you know even if you had, things would still have transpired just as they have. Such a marriage would only have complicated matters, if not made them worse.

You’d had so many secrets as children—you and he—what is a proposal, if not another one?

You intend to keep it locked away in your heart—something to hold onto when you one day are forced to wed for duty, instead of want. Because you had wanted. Even for only a moment.

You walk further down the line and further still, and Cregan decides not to push the subject.

“I hope you do not find all of this macabre, Princess,” he states, placing a comforting hand against your back.

He is trying his utmost to maintain a healthy balance of referring to you by both names: your given, and your proper title. He fears growing too used to the former and slipping up amongst others, such as your brother.

Even if calling you by it is far more preferable. Comfortable, even.

You shake your head. “Not at all. I find it fascinating. It is, after all, a singular opportunity. Once my brother and I leave, I fear I will not be presented with it again. I imagine I will never, in fact, see the North again once we return to Dragonstone.”

He ignores his heart squeezing at the thought.

“Not even to visit?” He asks casually, fingers trailing along your spine.

You give him a forced smile. “I imagine I will be wed soon enough. So as to gain my mother an army or castle stronghold or coin to fund this war when the time comes. At that point, my place will be where my husband deems it be.”

You talk about it so flippantly that it unnerves even him, as if it is a fate you have already resigned yourself to: doing as you are told without quarrel. Your own wants and wishes be damned.

You continue walking—his hand eventually falling away—until you have reached closer to the end of the line, and are greeted with the sight of a young woman set in stone.

Cregan gazes upon her for just a moment, feeling an ache at her being so close, but yet so far from him.

He clears his throat then. “My late wife, the Lady Arra Norrey.”

You swiftly turn your head to look at him, while he looks at her and your heart breaks at the look of longing within his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, truly, truly meaning it. You cannot imagine such a pain.

He nods. “Thank you, Y/N.”

You look back to her. “She was very beautiful.”

“She was. My son looks much like her. When he was born—the same day the Gods saw fit to take her from me—he was my perfect reflection. As he has grown, he has come to resemble her more and more. Both a blessing and a curse. Through him, I will never forget her, but also yet reminded of what I have lost.”

You both grow quiet then, only the occasional pop or crackle coming from the lit braziers to break it.

Until you speak.

“I suppose in that much I will be fortunate,” you say, merely above a whisper.

He looks at you, waiting for elaboration. “Princess?”

You look at him, softly smiling. “I do not mean to say that I will not mourn, if one day I were to lose my lord husband. But…no one will ever want, nor marry me for love. So if I lost him, I think it would make the pain easier to carry. A small comfort, I know.”

He stares down at you with furrowed brows in disbelief at what you have just said.

You continue to stare up at him, feeling uneasy at the darkening look upon his face.

Oh Gods, you had offended him. Had upset him. How could you have said such a thing? Mayhaps he feels you have insulted her—her memory. This is why you prefer to be alone. Or, at the very least, when near others: utterly silent.

“Forgive me, My Lord, I did not mean to—”

“Do you truly believe such a thing?” He says, interrupting—his tone that of steel.

You take a small step back, now frightened. “I—”

Tears sting your eyes. You had been too open. Too ignorant. You should have known better than to speak so honestly with a man who is still yet a complete stranger to you.

What if you have now ruined everything Jace has been working so diligently to accomplish? Neither he, nor your mother, will ever forgive you. How could you have been so careless with your words?

He leans down toward you and you nearly flinch, but compose yourself, thinking he now seems the very wolf that is emblazoned upon his broad chest.

“You think no man could ever love you?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat.

His eyes flit between your own. “Whatever man marries you should be aware of just how blessed he is to have you to take to wife. By all the Gods—Old and New. And for you to, much more, one day be the mother of his children? I cannot imagine a finer fate. For if he does not realize it, he is wholly unworthy of having you.”

You stare up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. He…surely he does not mean it.

"That...is very kind of you to say, Lord Stark. But I am aware of my position in the world. What I am to prospective suitors. A means to an end. My title—my heritage—is something to bring them ever closer to the throne, mayhaps, or glory. At the very least remembrance, to be printed within historical texts. When men look at me, just as the same as they did with my mother when she was younger than even I, they do not see us for who we are, but rather, what.

"If I am fortunate, I only hope whomever I am wed to sees me as more than just a walking womb. If not...I must be content with that. At the very least, I will have my children, if nothing else in all the world."

You glance toward the exit, ready to leave.

You do not wish to discuss this any further.

You step past him.

Cregan refuses to let you leave with that. How can you possibly think so little of yourself? How can you care naught about your future? About your welfare?

He suddenly takes your hand in his, turning you back toward him.

Your brows furrow, glancing down to where he now has you within his strong grip.

"You would give up so easily? Just...let whomever is the highest bidder have you without dispute?"

"It is not up to me."

Even if it once had been. For only a moment.

You know you must let it go now.

For it does not do well to dwell on things that never will be.

"From what I understand, your mother was given a choice," he insists.

You slip your hand from his grasp. "War was not looming on the horizon when she was. Everything is different now."

You take a step back, putting distance between you.

He wishes to reach for you again, but withholds.

He grasps for something to say—anything—to make you see sense, but even he himself knows that what you say is the way of things for highborn ladies. That your lives are never truly your own.

And then he thinks of the meeting he is meant to have this morn with his advisors. Knowing that he, too, will be subjected to the same, as he has continually been since Arra's passing: further insistency that he wed again. And soon.

He has but one son—one heir. If something were to happen to Rickon—something as simple as illness—he will be without issue. And without a sibling to succeed him, he fears Winterfell falling back into his imprisoned uncle's clutches once more.

He who had thirsted for power, instead of righteousness.

He is not fit to lead the North. Not anymore. Not now that he showed his true nature those years ago.

Cregan follows silently behind you as you exit the crypts, not wishing to leave matters between you like this as you part ways for the day, but he knows not what else to do.

He knows that further false words of assurance would be of little comfort.

Once you have both reached the surface, he places his palm against the small of your back once again. Merely wishing to touch you. Have you close to him. "May I escort you back inside, Y/N?"

You merely nod, trailing along beside him silently.

Once you have reached your room, you reach for the handle, until Cregan speaks again. "If it was up to you, what would you wish?"

You slowly turn back to him. "Forgive me, I do not know what it is that you mean."

He steps closer to you, while you are forced between his towering form and the solid wood of the door behind you.

"If someone put your fate in your own hands to do with as you wished, what might you choose?"

It once again comes to mind, a conversation from only a few days past.

Then perhaps we steal away in the dark of night, married in secret by a septon, he had told you while holding you close.

You look down, gripping the fabric of your dress nervously. Wondering if you should disclose it.

If you did, whom would he tell?

At that, you do not need to provide him the man's name.

You sigh. "I had such an opportunity once. Not so long ago. And yet still, I put others before myself. Because I knew what would come of it had I said yes. Mayhaps I should have. Even if it would have only worsened matters."

You shake your head. "So, I do not know anymore. I've spent nigh on my entire life trying to prepare myself for the prospect of a loveless marriage, so I am not disappointed when I am finally thrust into one. And then I am given an opportunity to procure myself something otherwise, and I still repudiate it."

His brows furrow, heart hammering, fist tightening at his side. Already one has asked for your hand.

Whom?

He wants his name.

"You have received a wanted proposal," he states flatly.

You shrug. "We were close friends as children," you start.

Cregan thinks to himself how he much understands what such a bond feels like. That it is not something which is easily replaced.

And now he feels envious of a faceless man over a girl he barely knows. One who has shown little interest in him thus far.

But he does now understand why, at least.

The way you spoke of yourself...of course you would never think yourself as desirable by another. Not truly.

Not until him, whomever he may be.

He wishes to discover it.

"May I ask whom?"

You finally look up to him once more and he does not much like the glassy look in your eyes. You miss him, then. This suitor. This...friend.

"You may, but I will not tell. It is for he and I alone to have knowledge of. It is...personal."

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "Do you love him?"

You don't understand his deep interest in a matter which does not concern him.

You dislike this sudden inquisition into your own private matters. You regret discussing it at all.

It was just that he had shared something with you: his beloved wife's final resting place, so you had tried to offer a bit of truth in return. Mayhaps you should not have.

"As a friend, I did once. He has since changed. We simply grew apart. He became someone else, someone I no longer recognized."

That blade cut deeper than just the surface that night. It permanently scarred more than just his face.

Already, after leaving the Red Keep, your relationship had been precarious, but the way he had looked at you while holding tightly to his mother as blood seeped from his injured eye—even as you cried for him....you then knew he was lost to you.

That fact was cemented further when he stopped replying to your letters.

And then you stopped bothering with writing them.

He takes a step back then, allowing you, finally, to breathe. Being near him makes you feel so...enveloped.

"I am sorry to hear it," he replies.

"I am sorry it happened," you whisper, turning your back to him and finally slipping into your room.

Cregan stands there, head swimming. He'd thought that he finally had you figured out: sweet, demure, unable to see your own worth, yet now he comes to discover of a secret romance between you and an unnamed man, which you refuse to elaborate on.

As he turns, headed toward the solar to meet with his advisors, he hopes they do not stoke his ire, as his jealousy has already been set ablaze.

You remain in your private room for awhile, pacing, considering.

You know it is foolish to consider such a thing. Accepting...it would do naught against what has already been done, as you keep telling yourself over and over again—desperately trying to pound it into your head.

And what benefits would it bring to your mother's side, anyway? None. Besides, it would break her heart and lay at her feet yet one more betrayal. And so soon after the last...

But what of you? What will happen to you now?

It is becoming—as time rows on and you grow older—blaringly obvious that signing yourself over to a miserable fate is far easier said than done.

You do not want to be alone, even in marriage. Do not want to be afraid and miserable.

You want...

You want.

Eventually, you exit your room, knowing remaining indoors will do little to ease your troubled and anxious mind. You cannot dwell on such things. Not here. Not now.

Outside.

You need outside where you feel less suffocated and cloistered away.

Mayhaps you will journey into the Godswood to sit alone for awhile.

You wish desperately to stop thinking.

Your footsteps falter and you turn away from your current destination, deciding to instead head in the direction of clanging steel, curious to see how the men train here.

You imagine it can't be terribly different from how they do so in the South, but you are interested, nonetheless.

Something to distract you.

Yes, that is what you need.

When you finally enter the Courtyard, your brows raise at the sight of Jace sparring against Lord Cregan. You decide to keep your distance, not wanting to throw off your twin by him spotting you as he tries desperately to beat back his northern combatant.

Cregan is near-relentless in his endeavors to subdue his opponent, who—while you would never state it plainly to his face—falls woefully short in terms of swordsmanship skills against the stoic young lord.

Jace stumbles back as Cregan rains down blows from above with—you hope—a dulled sword. He seems somewhat irritated somehow.

You hope it is not with your brother.

You take a step closer, and then another, and notice that Cregan is speaking to him—educating him—as he fights.

"Pay attention to your opponent's feet, young Prince. Anticipate their next step."

Clang.

"Turn—yes. Hit hard—from the side."

Clang.

"Keep your head up, or I'll ring it like a bell. Good!"

Clang.

Jace swings forward, Cregan dodging the move with deft footwork.

Just then, their swords meet, Cregan pushing back against your twin with all his might, until Jace falls, sword clattering beside him. Before he can even attempt at reaching for it, Cregan quickly kneels, holding his practice sword close to his throat. "Does my opponent sue for mercy?"

They both grin then as Jace nods in reply.

You are surprised that Lord Cregan had not gone easy on him, out of fear of retribution for 'showing him up', not that Jace is that sort of young man.

Finally, he takes Jace's hand in his, helping him to his feet.

Just as he does, he spots you, a gloved hand held up to your grinning lips as you head in the direction of the Godswood.

Your smile quickly fades, however, as your stomach turns when you enter the empty wooded area.

It hadn't merely been a playful game between young men... It was training for war.

You suddenly imagine Jace dying with a sword in his hand—Vermax falling from the sky—your mother wailing in agony over the loss of her firstborn son and fire raining down upon the enemy for it. Even for they you have sympathy.

You round the large heart tree which stands before a glistening pond of cool blue water and lean back against it, squeezing your burning eyes shut, willing the tears away.

But it only gets worse—your imagination running away from you. Not even coming here was going to soothe you, then.

Lucerys, who is still yet a child, with a sword thrust into his terrified hands, and Joffrey, still yet practically a babe, who may not even remember those who will be forever lost to him in battle.

And then there is Viserys and Aegon—both so young and tender.

Who...if you are all gone, who will raise them? What if...what if the Greens, instead, use them as veal for their dragons?

You feel sick.

You choke down a sob, covering your mouth with trembling hands. Oh Gods, what is happening?

"Princess?" Calls a concerned voice to your right, utterly gentle in tone, his fire quickly extinguished at the sight of you in distress.

You quickly wipe your flushed cheeks, even if you know it is of no use: he has seen you.

"Lord Cregan," you manage to say through the stinging tears.

He comes closer, throwing 'propriety' and 'decorum' to the wind as he cups your face in his hands, his brows furrowed, hard eyes full of worry. "Has something happened? If someone here has—"

You shake your head. "No. It's—"

You burst into tears then, imaging the fall of your family. All of them. Even those you are now meant to call enemy and usurper and worse.

He then pulls you close to him, against his chest, and you press your face against his leather jerkin, which smells of smoke and steel, as he wraps sturdy arms around you.

He gently runs his strong fingers through your soft hair, before cradling the back of your head in his callused palm, shooshing you, desperately wishing to comfort you from whatever has you in such disarray.

Finally, once you have begun to quiet, you pull back from him, leaning against the tree behind you once more, hiccupping. "I'm so...sor—" You shake your head. "Please, forgive me, Lord Cregan. I—"

He takes your hand in his bare one. "There is nothing to forgive."

Your lower lip trembles.

He steps closer, his body-heat radiating onto you against the cold. "Will you not tell me, Y/N?"

It seems a strange dichotomy to you: him.

Last night, with Jace—much like your first night here—he had talked history and fighting and weapons and about the Wall; the grit of the North, which he seems to completely embody. And then his being relentless with a sword in his hand—one always at his side. And there is the way he carries himself: with surety and steel.

But with you he is...gentle. Has been so many times now.

"Watching the two of you, it initially filled me with joy to see: you both getting on so easily. And so soon. And then I realized..."

You look up, meeting his eyes and he cups your cheek, brushing hot tears away with the pad of his thumb, before settling his grip upon your forearm.

You continue. "You were not play-fighting. It's training for war. One that I..."

You trail off for just a moment, taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself before bursting into another fit of hysterics. "I believe is truly inevitable. If it were not so, we would not be here now, with you, seeking the might of your realm to back my mother. Her...cause. I thought I had accepted it—that which looms before us, but seeing Jace with a sword. Oh Gods, I cannot lose them."

His jaw feathers as he watches you struggle to hold yourself together. You are far too gentle a creature to bear witness to this pending doom.

"She told me once, something which her father—my grandsire—told her at my age; younger, even."

You are quiet for a moment, snow falling softly around the two of you, the sound of a bird flapping its wings in flight.

"When dragons go to war, everything burns."

You meet his eyes again. "Never, at any point in our history, have so many dragons been alive at once. Even at that, my uncle, Daemon, has a score of eggs incubating at Dragonstone. Not that they will be full-grown for some time, if they do indeed hatch."

You let out a shuddering breath. "I...I am afraid."

He rubs soothing circles against your sleeved arm with his thumb, grasping for the right words to give you, which may provide some sense of security, but he, most unfortunately, has none.

He has failed you more than once in that: being unable to comfort you from your troubles.

"I don't want my family to die," you whisper, fresh tears slipping down your face. "Any of them."

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours, taking each of your hands within his own, holding them up to his lips as he blows warm air onto them, before clasping them firmly between his large hands.

"I wish I had words of wisdom—assurance—to offer you. It grieves me to see you like this, Princess. But in times like these, sometimes we must admit hard truths to ourselves." He's quiet for a moment. "I think you and I both know what those truths to be. That if an agreement—capitulation—is not soon reached, I fear your mother's warning may yet come to fruition."

You sniffle. "Coming here felt—feels—like such an escape. It is as if I'm in another world now. Far from politics and scheming and treachery. Like none of it—or they—can touch me in this place."

You close your eyes.

"Do you want to know the horrible truth?" You question quietly.

"Tell me. Please."

You swallow thickly. "I don't want to go home."

He pulls back then and you stare up at him, ashamed of yourself.

"Might I ask why?" He probes.

You shrug slightly. "I..." You pause.

You don't open up like this. Not to anyone. It's not that you don't have someone to do so with. You do. But it would hurt them to hear. Would break your mother's heart to.

Mama.

So, you have kept it locked away inside all this time. But here, before the Gods—his Gods—if they are listening, you feel it a safe place.

Feel that he is.

"I have always felt othered. Out-of-step. Out-of-place. Within my own life..."

You sigh. "King's Landing was...the sun and the warm water was pleasant enough. And, at night, when I felt lonely, all I had to do was stand on my balcony, and listen, to know that I wasn't. The noise could be too much at times, but at others it served to console me.

"And then we left for Dragonstone, and I had never felt so alienated. Living on an island, away from everyone—everything—I had ever known, and so soon after losing—"

You stop. You know the truth. You always have. You and Jace and Luke had discussed it late one night in your twin's room; that most unspeakable secret which everyone seemed to talk about anyway.

It had lost Vaemond his head to do so, per Daemon.

"Go on," he encourages softly.

You look at him, resolving to finally acknowledge it. You will not shove him aside. He had doted on you. Loved you so.

You could still remember it, even now—that night when you could've been no more than five-years-old, and drifting off to sleep in his broad arms when he had whispered it: 'I love you, my little girl, with all that I am'.

And you had loved him. Laenor as well. And then you had lost them both, and in such quick succession of each other. To fire, no less.

No wonder you had never desired a dragon of your own.

It's because fire takes—kills and destroys and burns away all that remains. Until all that is left is charred bone and ashes and nothing. And it will do it again, soon enough.

Your chin wobbles. "My father, Ser Harwin. And then Laenor..."

You shake your head, and you find that he does not react to you saying it, which you are glad for.

"I had never felt so alone. I had my siblings, but even at that: I was the only girl. And Daemon... I have never considered him a father. I've never understood why my mother married him. He is...selfish. Dangerous and self-righteous."

He straightens. He'd heard rumors of him: the Rogue Prince. Taken his own niece to wife, immediately after the death of his first. He cannot imagine moving past it so quickly; such a loss.

"I feel as if I walk between two worlds, and that neither will ever truly have me. I do not feel high-born. Do not entirely want to be, either. It is why I don't like being called 'Princess'. Do not like others bowing and scraping before me, who I refuse to see as lesser-than. Who I instead wish I can be friends with.

"But I know I am not like them, either. Because they will never see me as as much. How could they? How can I ever relate to their hardships of poverty and constant struggle, when I have never wanted for anything except for perhaps...companionship? Or a sense of belonging."

You gently remove your hands from his own, tucking them beneath your cloak. "But when we arrived here—stood outside your castle—I felt something I never had before."

"What was it?" He whispers.

"Home." Your eyes shimmer with tears.

His heart jumps to hear you say such a thing.

"This place feels like what I imagine home is meant to feel like. And to know that in a fortnight, perhaps a little more time, a little less, that I will have to leave it behind, and mayhaps never see it again..."

You look to the side of you where a white rabbit hops along quietly, sniffing the snow beneath its padded feet. "I must sound ridiculous. To feel so attached to it when I've only just arrived. I know that I do not belong here—"

"I do not believe that," he states firmly, in a rasping voice.

Your brows furrow. How can he not? You are an outsider if there ever was one.

He continues. "I have questioned it: destiny. If it does exist, or if our lives are simply a series of choices we are forced to make day-by-day. But then I think of the Gods. The beauty of our world. The mysteries. The stories and legends." He looks at you. "How can I not, then? You say my home also feels like home to you?"

You nod gently.

"Perhaps our destiny is something that chooses us, then, and not the other way around. At least for some. Others... We are forced to carve our own path. But, for those that remain, unable to see a way forward—mayhaps they have a helping hand guiding them closer. Until they finally find whatever it is that has been waiting for them. And that hand leaves—them able to then forge ahead on their own, the path before them lain plainly."

You think for a moment, trying to understand what he might mean. “Are you saying that you believe Winterfell to be my destiny?”

He stares down at you. “Did you not feel as much when that feeling of home overcame you when standing outside our walls? Something drove you to come here, Y/N. You did tell me it had been a late decision. But one you made, nevertheless.”

You had heard once that Northerners were a superstitious lot. But, at the same time, you cannot deny the things he says.

He notes your silence. “Do you believe in the Gods?”

You look at him from under your lashes. “Which ones?” You ask with a small smile.

“Any,” he says, stepping round the heart tree, looking upon the face that was carved into it so many centuries ago.

You come to stand beside him. “I was raised in the light of the Seven.”

He looks to you, while your eyes remain firmly fixed on the tree before you.

“But I don’t…know that I feel they’ve ever listened to me. I believe in them, yes. I just don’t really pray to them anymore. I can’t even remember when it was that I stopped now. I think not long after Harwin…”

You look to him with worried eyes. “You won’t tell anyone, will you? What I’ve said about my true paternity or—”

He shakes his head. “No worries on that account, Y/N. I would never betray your trust. I consider it a gift—a privilege, even—you sharing such hard truths with me.”

And he does. You have done it time and again, much to his appreciation. He only wishes for it to continue. For you not to close yourself away from him instead.

“Why did you ask? About whether I believe?”

He nods toward the tree. “I do. Believe. Pray. When I am able.”

He turns fully toward you, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, then settling his arms behind him. “Perhaps you should speak to them. If your New Gods did not listen… I wonder if the Old may not be more agreeable.”

You step toward it, considering. “How do I—”

“Just speak to them. As you have me. Nothing else is necessary. No crystals or censers or choosing this one or that to hear you. Tell them what is within your heart, your soul. I cannot promise that things will change, much more for the better, but I always feel as if a load has been lightened after I have confided in them.”

You sit upon the stone bench positioned a foot or so away, looking up at the blood-red leaves swaying above you, a cool winter wind blowing them to and fro.

You tighten your cloak around you then, which Cregan takes note of.

You tuck your chin in close to your chest, to only be met a moment later with the feel of a very heavy and long fur-lined cloak—already warm from his body heat—being carefully draped over your shoulders.

You look up to him. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“What sort of man would I be if I let you sit there and shiver against the cold while I stay warm? It grieves me to think of you catching a chill while under my protection. Even if it would, mayhaps, keep you in my company longer.”

You flush.

“Besides, I have many others,” he states with a smile.

You wrap it further around you, until only your head is visible and his lip twitches at the sight. Of you, in a way, covered in him.

You smile sheepishly, your cheeks warming, along with the rest of you as you nervously wring your hands beneath the black cloak, which smells of him; of winter.. “Thank you, Cregan.”

Hearing his name uttered from your lips like this—and here—moves something within him. Sends his blood racing in his veins.

“Shall I leave you, then?” He asks, cocking his head slightly to the side.

You nod once. “I will at least try.”

He goes to step away. “I hope, truly, that they listen.”

It’s not quite an hour later when you finally rise from your seat. You had felt foolish at first—talking to a tree—but once you began to pour your heart out, there had been no stopping it.

You had told the Old Gods everything.

Had told them about your true father, and your step, Laenor. You prayed for your brothers, to keep them safe from whatever is to come. And if they do die…make it swift. Painless. You prayed for your mother, and for her to regain her throne with minimal bloodshed. Prayed even for the Hightowers and Alicent’s children, because they were still your family.

And then you prayed for the Realm. That, if and when lives are lost—it makes you sick to even think of it—to let it not be in vain. Let their bodies not rot on battlefields, never to return home, or their corpses strung up on tree branches, to be used as examples. Let them be buried with dignity.

Let families not go hungry, or suffer from illness and disease. Let horses not fall from starvation due to rationing. Let the land not be razed and destroyed, homes burned, shops never to reopen, leaving many without means to earn money, or a way to purchase provisions to survive off of.

The more you thought of war, the worse off you felt. Until you began to cry again. So much so that you eventually exhausted yourself and felt sick.

You had finally risen, thanking them for listening—if they indeed had, before heading out of the Godswood, back into the courtyard and heading into the castle once more to lie down for awhile.

You had knocked on Cregan's door, so as to return his cloak, to no avail.

So you had taken it with you into your own, deeming that you would return it to its rightful owner that evening instead.

You hung it carefully upon a brass hook on the wall, then stopped mid-turn when you caught sight of a present laid upon your bed, concealed in brown wrapping paper.

You gently pull at the twine tied round it, then smooth the paper back to reveal a beautiful heavy black cloak, lined with incredibly soft fur. Set atop it, a small note: To keep you warm. —Cregan

It is only once you have tried it on and are looking at yourself in a floor-length mirror that you notice the small embroidered direwolf above your left breast.

You smile warmly at the sight, your heart squeezing at his kind gesture.

You much look forward to seeing him again that night.

And you then wonder...if he feels the same.

#fic: hotd (cregan stark x reader)#cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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thebearer · 1 year

Note

Omg omg omg I LOVE your dad Carmy fics so much! And idk if you’re taking requests rn but can I please request a dad Carmy x wife reader it’s their little girls first birthday and one of the staff members gifted her a little play kitchen with pots and pans and she just loves it bc she wants to be like her daddy since she sees him in the kitchen all the time and she even “makes” him food and Carmy playfully critiques her meals😭🙌🏻🥹

“What’s this Teddy Bear?” It’s a sight to see. Carmen Berzatto smushed and crouched into a teeny tiny plastic chair, sitting at the “best restaurant in Chicago”… if the category was for plastic food.

Teddy babbled in the kitchen, flinging plastic lids and ripping apart velcro fruit and vegetables that she’s was “cutting”, before flinging the other half into the bin.

“Pretty angry chef.” Carmen muttered to you teasingly. “Seems like a hot head.”

“I just hope the foods good.” You played along, your own knees near your chest in the tiny table set. “She didn’t even take our order.”

Carmen snorted, looking at the small kitchen. It was a gift, from Richie of all people, for Christmas. He’d cackled when he gave it to her, watching as she giggled with glee. “Got your own prodigy now, Cousin.” Richie grinned.

Carmen didn’t realize how much Teddy caught on to in the kitchen until she’d carry her little plates and shout “corner!” just like she’d seen her daddy do. It made Carmen’s heart melt, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

“Chef,” Carmen called, Teddy’s little curls flying when she looked back at him. “How much longer?”

“Jus’a minute.” Teddy’s tiny, sing-song pitched voice had your own heart aching with pure adoration, your hand smoothing down your growing belly. You hadn’t told her about the baby yet-she’d just became a chef, not yet ready for the title of big sister.

“All done!” Teddy brought the bowls out, an interesting combo of plastic clumps of peas, banana, and chicken in Carmen’s bowl. In your bowl the cut apple slices, carrots, and what appeared to be a Barbie doll shoe.

“Thank you, chef.” Carmen looked down at the bowl, raising a brow at you, biting back his own smile. “Chef, can we have a fork?”

“No.” Teddy shook her head, holding onto her little chef’s hat. “You no need fork.”

“Teddy.” You laughed at the three year old. “We need a fork, silly! How do we eat with no fork?”

“Hands.” Teddy shrugged, clambering back to the ‘kitchen’ in her little plastic heels. She returned with a plastic knife and a pair of tongs. “Here.”

Carmen looked at the small knife. “This is a weird place.” He muttered to you playfully. “Chef is a little pushy.”

“You’re telling me.” You grinned, using your wooden tongs to pick up the Barbie shoe. “I’m scared to tell her about this.”

Carmen laughed, nearly falling back in the plastic chair. “I’m sure it’s a garnish.” He grinned, making you snort. “Kinda looks like your pregnancy cravings.” He motioned towards his bowl.

You gaped, dramatically at him. “Watch it, Berzatto.” You but back a smile. “Before I make you make me another Nutella grilled cheese.”

Carmen gagged dramatically, alerting Teddy. “No good?” She asked, little lip jutting nearly pitifully.

“No, no, no,” Carmen said quickly. “Very good. So yummy. All done. Good job, Chef.”

Teddy grinned, giggling and throwing her arms around Carmen’s neck, launching himself in his lap. Carmen caught her easily, tickling her sides so she squealed. “Really hands on experience, huh?” He smirked, looking at you.

You posted this photo on your Instagram:

with the caption:

eating good tonight thanks to chef teddy bear🧸🍼🐣 five stars, best restaurant in the us. giving @/carmenberzatto a run for his money!!

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redwinterroses · 8 months

Text

There’s a cherry tree in the middle of the redwood forest.

False isn’t sure what to make of that. She shifts her grip on the staff in her hand, its pale glow reflecting faintly off the fresh snow. She’s come out here for resources—the vault altar is demanding logs, and these giant trees are an easy source—but the incongruous sight of an enormous, blossoming cherry tree sending pink petals wafting on the frozen wind…

She wonders if this is what fish feel like, when they see a lure.

“Hello?” she calls, her voice echoing off the trees. The world stands in permanent semi-twilight here, and the deeper shadows hide the mobs that will venture out come nightfall. A sneak of creepers is bedded down in a sweetberry bramble just on the other side of the clearing, and False tenses when the lead boar lifts his head, but he apparently doesn’t deem her worth stalking so early in the day.

There is no other reaction to her call.

False is of half a mind just to head back home and farm her own dang trees. It’s not like the vaultar is picky about the kinds of logs—she could just as easily grow up a bunch of birch and throw those in there. But that will take so much longer… not to mention she’s not sure if there are even enough saplings in her storage.

She unhooks her enchantment-glittered axe from her belt and pauses to mentally poke at her mana reserves. Plenty high. Whatever’s lingering near this tree, it can hardly be worse than what she deals with on the daily in the vaults. Overworld dangers are barely a challenge anymore.

The logic of that doesn’t change the uneasy feeling that buzzes over her skin though.

Venturing further into the clearing. False’s gaze traces up the trunk of the cherry tree, following its branches to where they terminate in lush bursts of pink and white blooms. A sweet smell drifts on the wind. She wrinkles her nose, reminded of compost piles and fermented spiders’ eyes.

The tree’s branches stretch long and low—a canopy of their own, heavy with flowers and dark, glossy leaves. The space underneath is filled with falling flowers and a fog of pollen, the air moisture-thick like a lush cave.

Lifting one hand, False catches a falling petal on her fingertip.

It sizzles as it touches her skin, stinging and buzzing like live redstone.

She hisses through her teeth, shaking her hand and letting the petal fall to the forest floor. “What the heck?”

Another petal tumbles past her face, and she watches it with narrowed eyes—right until it fizzles out of existence a few pixels above the forest floor.

“Glitch,” she mutters. “That’s… not good.”

Iskall needs to know about this—it could be a bug from one of the new updates, or it could be something deeper in the code, but either way: this glitched tree is a problem. She’s probably lucky it just stung her.

She reaches for her communicator, raising it to take a pic of the cherry tree.

“Oh, hi there, False!”

False yelps, spinning around with her axe ready to swing.

Gem is standing behind her, a wreath of cherry blossoms tangled in her hair and antlers, leaning casually on a tall staff of blooming cherry wood. Her smile is wide, and sap flows over her fingers, pale golden, dripping down her arms to leave dark spots on the faded denim of her overalls.

“Gem!” False lowers her axe. “Oh my gosh, you scared me. I didn’t know you were doing Vault Hunters.”

“Hm?” Gem raises one eyebrow, and for a moment her eyes flicker to red and then purple before settling back on green. “Oh—I’m not doing Vault Hunters, False.” Her voice is amused, almost chiding.

“Oh.” False feels unexpectedly small—which is impressive, considering she’s nearly half a block taller than Gem.

More of the glitched petals fall, resting on Gem’s hair and slowly melting into it like snowflakes. The brief moment of relief when False had seen Gem’s familiar grin is fading into something like the sensation of freefall.

“What’cha up to?” Gem asks, and her face blinks from one expression to the next like a bad video message. Her clothes are blue—no, green—no, bloodstained and grey—no, blue. They’ve always been blue.

False takes a step back.

“Uh, not much…” she glances up at the redwoods. “Just doing some… resource gathering. You know.”

“Cool!” Gem giggles, and stands up straight. False tenses, but Gem only spins around her staff and waves a hand at the glitched tree. “I didn’t realize this was an occupied server—are there many people here?”

There’s a buzzing in False’s skull, and she blinks rapidly. A muscle twitches under her eye.

“Um…”

“I guess it doesn’t really matter.” Gem lifts one hand and grabs one of the lowest branches of the cherry tree. She really should not have been able to reach that.

Swinging herself up with the lithe, effortless strength of a cat, she perches on the limb and stares down at False. The grin is gone from her face now, and she looks down at False with bright eyes.

“Etho’s not here, is he?”

False opens her mouth to answer, the words yes, of course he is, I can take you to him heavy on her lips… And with effort, she swallows them back.

They taste of sweet rot.

“Why... why doesn’t what matter?” she asks instead.

Gem stares at her for a long moment, expressionless. The flowers woven through her antlers are growing of their own accord, twining up to caress their brethren in the branches overhead.

Then she smiles broadly, flashing teeth that nearly glow white in the dappled shadows. “Oh!” she exclaims. “No reason! I’m only passing through, is all.”

“You’re not… you’re not sticking around?” False tries—and mostly fails—to sound disappointed.

“Naaaaah…” Gem stands and walks along the branch, as secure and balanced as if it were a stone floor. The flowers in her hair flow along behind her, sliding from the branches and falling like a cape down her back. “Worldhopping is easy. Staying in one spot is way harder.”

False watches the flowers move and swirl, their smooth, strange motion ensnaring her attention. The buzzing is back, too. Like bees, drunk on honey and sleepy in their hive.

“World hopping…?” she manages. “With admin commands?”

Gem’s laugh is as brilliant as a knife and as sharp as a spark. “False!” she crows. “You say the funniest things.”

False laughs. It seems appropriate. She isn’t sure why.

“Anyway,” Gem continues, fading into one patch of blossoms and reappearing on the other side of it. Her eyes are sprays of cherry flowers now. Her antlers are branches. “Anyway, cherry trees are all the same. They make it easy to get around.”

“That…” doesn’t make sense, False wants to say. But her lips are heavy, and coated in sticky sap. Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

“Oops! Behind you, False!”

Gem’s chirped warning is flaked in glee, and False turns around, as slow as if her feet are buried in soul sand.

The creepers she had seen—the entire sneak—are standing behind her, pink flowers blooming from their eyes.

“Oh no.”

The boar’s blinded head snaps toward her voice, hissing. He starts to aggro, bioluminescent streaks flashing from his snout to flanks in increasingly-swift pulses of light.

“See ya in season ten, False!” Gem cries out cheerfully.

The axe drops from False’s nerveless fingers, trailing strings of sap. She smells the inescapable stench of burning gunpowder, overlaid with rot.

“...Dangit.”

[FalseSymmetry was blown up by a creeper]

~*~

Jerking upright in her own bed, False swipes wildly at her face, trying to smear away tree sap that isn’t there.

“What the heck, Gem?” she exclaims at her empty base. Her voice falls flat, swallowed up by the sky that surrounds her builds. The clock above her head ticks impatiently, and she huffs in frustration, pushing up out of her bed. All her tools, gone—her levels, gone... and after all that she still needs those logs for the vault.

Grumbling, she starts pulling backup gear from various chests, trying to cobble together something that can get her back to the redwood grove before her items despawn—assuming they hadn’t all been obliterated by a second or third creeper explosion. She glances at the vaulter, and freezes.

It’s been completed. The crystal floats gently atop the stone pedestal, gleaming with an inner light.

And, tumbled at the base of the vaulter—abandoned, more than was needed to fill the crystal’s requirements:

Half a stack of cherry logs.

#falsesymmetry #geminitay #red said eldritch gem rights #let her be cheerful and scary too she deserves it #also there needs to be more Vault Hunter fic in the world. and more False content.#this was inspired by a post of some enormous redwood trees I saw the other day with teeny tiny people at the base of them #along with Gem's tree building -- the cherry trees in her hardcore and s9 builds #and the headcanon from hc8 and empires that she's a worldhopper #anyway this is the first thing I've really written in (over?) a year so... I'm quite happy about it.#might polish and put it on AO3 later but for now it's just for the hellsite <3 #redwinterwrites #oh also excuse for creeper/minecraft worldbuilding yaaay XD

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skrrts · 2 months

Text

concert seats (drabble)

✧ gn!reader & jongho ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, dating, fluff ✧ word count: 720

Jongho refuses to leave the concert with you just because some idiots removed your seat number & didn't check before.

“I don’t care what you’re saying. We bought the tickets legally, there’s even a wristband with the seat number. We are going to watch this together! I’m not going to kick out my partner to attend this concert alone!”

While Jongho’s voice wasn’t loud, it was obvious he was firm. To prove it, he held your hand even tighter, throwing death glares at the staff who were trying to convince him to leave you behind after the organizers messed up big-time.

A few weeks ago, when he surprised you with tickets for your birthday, you couldn’t have been happier. For years, Jongho had to listen to your sighs and whines about how you really wanted to see your favorite artist perform live but the tickets were always insanely priced. So, behind your back, he took an extra job and slowly worked towards it until he had the money to afford them. Perfectly timed, the new tour was announced just the day prior.

You spent hours getting ready and couldn’t stop talking about it, especially how much you loved Jongho. Not only because he got those tickets for you, working so hard, but also because he came along to something that wasn’t his own interest.

When you arrived at your row, it was quick to note that something wasn’t right. The staff explained that there had been another event the other day and somehow, your seat was removed. Now, the staff told you that there was no way for you to attend, something about security reasons, but your boyfriend wasn’t taking it.

“I will have to call security if you refuse, I’m afraid,” the woman tried to sound tough, but she wasn’t doing a good job. Maybe because Jongho had the presence of a mafia boss (it was a popular joke among you and your friends because he really could be that scary if he wanted to).

He pointed to his seat: “Mine is the last in the row, behind me is a pillar, no person. It’s simple. I pull Y/N on my lap and we watch it all quietly. Nobody’s sight is interrupted and we do not have to carry this onto TikTok.” She shook her head: "Not an option."

Jongho didn’t even have an account and you had to hold back a soft chuckle as he took out his phone and started to film. “Hi guys, we are currently inside the Starshower Stadium and…”

There was a hint of panic in her features. TikTok’s hate wave was the nightmare of about every organizer and she hurried to wave her hands. “Please, no recording! Ah, okay! Please, it has to remain between the three of us because by law, I am not allowed to leave you here without a seat.”

There was no reason to, since you were at the end of the row and there wasn’t even a staircase nearby. “Please remain on the chair and enjoy the concert,” she bowed and rushed off, cursing under her breath as she did so.

“TikTok huh, I’d love to see that. I actually still think we could make millions of money with your apple crusher technique,” you laughed and he just offered you that small grin you enjoyed so much.

“I will think about it,” Jongho took your hand and pulled you over to the chair, and onto his lap. He made sure you were sitting comfortably before curling his strong arms around you to ensure you wouldn’t have to worry about falling off.

“Please remember, your very handsome and mysterious boyfriend is sitting right behind you, should you have a sudden urge to dance, with your arms” Jongho coughed.

“Don’t worry, as much as I am looking forward to seeing her live, I promise nothing would ever put my amazing, scary boyfriend at risk,” you winked.

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other before he made pouty lips, indicating he wanted a kiss. It was silly and sweet; you had gotten used to loving it whenever he was doing it once Jongho was confident nobody was looking.

“Now then, let’s see if I turn into a stan too,” he mumbled as the crowd cheered and the artist stepped on stage.

You relaxed back against him, thinking this was much better than any place in the front row.

#jongho x reader #jongho x you #jongho drabble #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez drabble #ateez writing #reis writes #ateez fluff #jongho fluff #jh tag

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tomkaulitzssgirl · 1 year

Text

Words can hurt | Bill Kaulitz x Male Reader

requested by: @billsjum6ie <3

“i’ll tell you one last time bill, i’m not coming to this dinner thing with your band. i’m tired! i just came back from work.” you complained as you prepared yourself a meal while bill was trying to stop you in every way.

tokio hotel had organised a dinner all together since it was a night where they had free time, and he wanted you to meet the george, gustav and the staff. you had already met tom of course.

“c’mon! i’m asking you nicely. it’s not like you have to do something, you just need to sit down and fucking eat!” bill protested grabbing the stirring pot from your hand and throwing it in the sink.

you gasped at his gesture, he really became a child when you guys argued and he always wanted to be right.

“it’s not just that! i have to talk and be active when in reality i just wanna go to fucking sleep, bill! i don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this, i’ll meet them some other day!” you threw your hands in the air as you talked, before rolling your eyes and turning your back to him.

“because i want you to meet them today! it’s important to me, but you only think about yourself like always.” he folded his arms to his chest, leaning against the counter and looking at you with an air of superiority.

your eyes widened and you let out a sarcastic laugh, looking at him incredule, “i only think about myself? me? yeah right! because i’m the one who doesn’t have time for their partner since work comes first but expects them to cater to his every need!”

“yeah well at least i don’t complain for being tired when all i do is sleep and work in a damn pub!” bill yelled, the vein in his neck growing bigger.

you were speechless as you heard what he said, you couldn’t believe it. your own boyfriend had shamed you for your job, knowing exactly how much of a failure you felt for not being able to find anything related to your major.

you scoffed losing the appetite, so you turned off everything you were using to cook and stormed off the kitchen, leaving bill alone. he knew he had fucked up.

the next two days were spent in total silence.

bill tried to talk to you or even touch you, but you would simply ignore him giving him the silent treatment. you usually didn’t do it, you were always ready to talk things out, but this time he had crossed the line.

his words hurt so bad and made you see him in a different light. he was the person that had to love and make you feel worthy, but now he had become the reason of your overthinking.

one night, after an exhausting day at work where people seemed to get on your nerves more than usual, you went back home.

the house was silent and usually bill would be on the couch waiting for you and trying to talk, but he was nowhere in sight.

you shrugged it off thinking he would’ve been with his brother, so you just walked up the stairs to go to your room.

you opened the door, surprisingly finding him there, laying on the bed. his body was trembling and you could hear sniffles so of course you understood he was crying, but what confused you was the suitcase at the edge of the bed.

you walked to him, your heart aching at the sight. no matter how angry you were, you couldn’t stand seeing him cry.

your hand touched his back, making him jump up at the sudden touch. his eyes locked in yours and he began to cry even harder.

putting your pride away, you just hugged him while sighing, kissing his forehead. “it’s okay.” you whispered, closing your eyes.

“i’m sorry…i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean what i said, i was just angry.” he sobbed in your shoulder, completely broken. you nodded pressing your lips together.

“i know, i’m sorry too. we argued for a stupid thing.” you put a lock of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek. he smiled softly.

“what’s up with the suitcase though?” you asked pointing at it.

“y-you know my ex used to not talk to me and leave for days before deciding to come back s-so i thought you were going to do the same thing.” bill looked down at his hands while playing with his rings as he said that.

you shook your head frantically, taking his hands in yours and holding them tightly, “i would never do that. i’m sorry that i even made you think about it. i was just angry and i reacted like a kid. i promised i won’t do that anymore, okay? next time, we communicate in a calm way.” you wiped his tears away.

bill nodded at you words, his cheeks pressing against the palm of your hand as he closed his eyes.

suddenly, you started tickling him knowing how much he suffered it, and he started laughing.

“stop! baby stop!” he laughed while trying to take your wrists. you did it some more before he blocked you, getting on top of you.

“i only want to see you smile.” you whispered before biting your lower lip.

bill looked at you with pure, genuine love in his eyes before pressing his lips against yours passionately.

you know what happened next.

#tokio hotel #tokiohotel #writing #fandom #fanfic #bill kaulitz #masterlist #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz angst #bill kaulitz fluff #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel bill kaulitz

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regalbootie · 2 years

Note

Ok first thing first, I die each time you upload! Your a great writer, like damn it’s god send! I truly wanted to ask for this. (Smut) Larissa and the reader have been married for some years, and for the first time Larissa wanted to try something new in their sex life! Staying in her true form and only changing her female sex for male genitalia. The reader allows it and Larissa shapeshifts her form and basically pounds the reader on the bed, while cumming inside her women one after another and groaning and moaning because of the pleasure. At the end Larissa is being a tired lump on top of reader, tells a joke about how she can see the appeal in having a cock and claiming her women.

Trying something new in the bedroom

THIS IS 18+ MINORS GO AWAY.

I love this request, ngl did struggle to write it cos I ain't got a peen so unsure of what it all feels like so I tried my best!

There will be a part 2 as I wanted to post this cos I got too excited, lol.

Lariss weems x reader fic

WARNING: Shapeshifter penis, dominance

You were so thankful it was finally the Christmas holidays, all the students were home or with friends for the holidays which meant all the staff could do whatever they pleased for the holiday break.

You and Larissa planned a short getaway to a little secluded cabin in the wilderness so you both could relax and have some privacy. No phones, no laptops and no work.

That was the promise you both made so you both could focus on one another. Work had been hectic, with Larissa running Nevermore and yourself getting students ready for exam season, you both had not had much time for each other.

So there you were watching the snow slowly fall to the ground as you took in the winter wonderland around the car. The radio playing soft music as Larissa’s hand that rested on your thigh tapped to the rhythm of the song.

You bit your lip smiling as she sang along to the god awful Christmas song while focusing on the road. Smiling to yourself at how lucky you were to have her and to love everyday.

It wasn’t much longer till the cabin was in sight, it was small but that’s all you and Larissa needed. Grabbing the bags and rushing in from the cold you were quick to get the fire rolling. It didn’t take long for the cabin to heat up with the roaring fire seeping warmth into the cold cabin.

Admiring your fire you started, you felt two hands wrap around you from behind and you hummed with happiness at her touch. A glass of wine was presented to you which was gladly accepted. Taking a small sip and swaying your body as you held this moment in your mind to remember forever.

You and Larissa finally at peace with no disruptions or distractions. You both stayed there for a while, content being in one another’s arms, until you turned so you could face her.

Small smiles gracing both of your faces, with your free hand you cupped her cheek, “I love you so much, my darling wife”

“I love you too, my darling wife” The wedding was 2 months ago, but the honeymoon was delayed with work getting in the way. Larissa leaned down to capture your lips in a soft kiss. You could taste the wine of her and moan.

Knowing what this did to her it was no surprise when Larissa’s grip tightened on your body and swiped her tongue against your bottom lip asking for entry.

How could you deny her she had you in a puddle of mess just with a kiss. Opening your mouth for her, the kiss deepened, her tongue mixing with yours in a dance you knew well.

Larissa’s hands gripped tight on your hips and started to guide you to the bedroom, she couldn’t wait she had this idea of something new to bring to the bedroom something that she had never tried before.

Pushing you onto the bed a giggle escaped “oh what will you do to me, mistress?” you purred as you moved back farther onto the bed.

“I’m going to fuck you senses, my pet. Now strip” doing as you were told as fast as you could throwing your top and jeans over your shoulder. You start taking your underwear off but feel a strong warm had stop you.

“not just yet little one” you were so focused on undressing that you didn’t notice Larissa stripping down to just her panties, biting your lip she moved to lay over you laying kisses over your body making you squirm and gasp when she left a nip. “God you are so beautiful” she worshiped your body giving into the tender moment for just a little bit.

“Yesssssss” You hissed as she sucked on your pulse point, hearing you it turned into a lust filled bite. She pulled back looking you in the eyes “are you ready for this?” arching a eyebrow.

All you could do was nod and that was all it took.

Pushing your bra down roughly she took an exposed nipple into her mouth nipping and then soothing it with a lick. Your legs come to wrap around her pulling her closer. “please mistress” moaning loudly now that you had no student neighbours in the halls of nevermore nearby.

Growling Larissa ripped the bra off and was much more ferocious making your eyes roll back and moaning louder, her hands held you down by the hip and she grinded against your core your wetness already soaking making you ready for her so quickly. You would be embarrassed by this if it wasn’t for the attention she was giving your nipples, pinching them and nipping. She grinded again against you.

Your body stiffened when you felt something different and pulled back a little bit. “what was that?”

Grinning Larissa moved off your body to stand before you, she had a bulge in her panties and you gasped, you had never asked about this. You were 100% sure on the ins and outs of shapeshifters but shifting genitalia was not something you had thought of before.

“I wanted to try something new, why should mistress not get to feel her little slut cum over her cock, I want to feel you cum around more than just my fingers”

Slipping her panties off you could see her stand to attention already. Where there should be a wet dripping pussy there was a long, big and thick shaft.

You did not like guys or their penises but Larissa’s was beautiful. She grabbed you by your legs pulling you to the edge of the bed.

“I’m going to fill you up and fill every inch of you, pet. I know you’ll like it. Your panties have gotten 5 shades darker since you’ve seen it”

She slid her tip through your folds making your head fall back with a gasp. Larissa couldn’t hold back a moan at the sensation, it was amazing just to feel your wet pussy on her tip.

Making sure she was well coated she looked to you for confirmation to continue, knowing this was new and that you were ready for it.

Leaning up you captured her lips in a kiss a hand trailing down to take her in your hand and line her to your entrance. “fuck me mistress” whispering into her ear as you pulled her back into a deep and passionate kiss.

Hips moving slowly forward the kiss broke and whimpers escaped both of you at the same time. Larissa felt like she could already burst as she felt the tight warmth wrap around her and all you could do was fall back onto the bed arching.

Larissa started slowly, nervous if she let go she would hurt you. You needed her right now though, you needed it hard and fast filling you up every inch.

Grinning you wrapped your legs around her hips pulling her harshly forward making you take the full length of her. “fuck me hard and fuck me fast”

“Anything for my good girl” smirking Larissa drew all the way back and slammed back in. Making you cry out and grip the bed sheets.

Her pace was hard and fast the feeling of you around her was intoxicating. “good girl, good girl” she chanted, her free hand moving to hold your throat and the other to play with your clit.

Your pussy clenched and it only spurred Larissa further “you like my big cock don’t you, you will beg to let me fuck you like this won’t you”

“YES MISTRESS YES! I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME LIKE THIS FOREVER” you were so close already and the sensations were overwhelming.

“Im so close mistress please let me cum on your cock” begging like the good girl you were for your mistress. Larissa knew she wasn’t going to last much longer and she wanted to cum with you to feel it.

“cum for me darling” her breath was laboured and gasping but her gasps where cut short when you came screaming her name as you clenched around her and all Larissa could was keep pounding as the orgasm hit her.

“oh my fucking god oh my fucking god, I’m going to cum in you my little slut” Larissa screamed with you as she thrusted deeper.

“please mistress cum in me” the dam broke and Larissa bit down hard on your shoulder as her whole body convulsed as she came hard making you orgasm a second time. You and her didn't expect anything to come out but were surprised when she felt the rush of a hot liquid fill you up, and all you could do was love the feeling.

Her pace was relentless and rougher as she drew out both her own orgasm and yours. Sweat dripping off both your bodies.

Slowing down she slowly pulled out and you hissed a little from the sensation, you knew you were barely going to be able to walk tomorrow but you didn’t care because Larissa threw your body around and slapped your ass hard.

“I’m not done with you yet, get on all fours” being the ever obedient lover you did so without hesitation. Feeling the bed dip and the new familiar feeling of her tip at your entrance you rocked your hips back to have her slide back into you.

This only earned you a hard spank to the ass, “did I say you could move slut”

you grinned and made a loud moaning and whimpering noise. “ But you feel so good mistress”

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x you #fanfic #larissa weems #principal weems #larrisa weems #smut #fanfiction

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pinkandgoldensoul · 1 year

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pairing: max verstappen x female!reader genre: friends to lovers, kind of slow burn, angst, fluff and comfort !tw!: swearing, online hate towards reader, insecurities, angst, a tiny suggestive moment other notes: fake instagram things? Loosely based on Japanese GP 2022 word count: 12.3k (feel free to use dividers to split the chapter into chunks! this time they might be needed lol) Sending a lot of love to everyone reblogging, liking and commenting ♥ Hope you enjoy the final chapter!

As rapid steps, cameras, mechanics and chaos surrounded you, silence had enveloped the conversation you had tried to initiate with Daniel. His eyes closely followed Max’s dark silhouette getting further and further away from where the two of you stood, he squeezed them, but in vain, as the Dutchman got out of sight. It didn’t make sense. Max had asked him to hold you back; he had insisted, and Daniel had seen fierce certainty and renewed confidence in him. Could a little discussion with the communication manager throw to the wind all the resolution he had been able to instill in him? «So… Do you need anything?» Your words awoke him from the bamboozled state he had fallen into and made his focus shift onto you. «Uhm, no, I’m good.» he rushed. «Just missed you, I feel like we haven’t seen in a while.» «We last saw each other the morning after the party in Monaco, Dan.» you laughed, embarrassed. «Right. The kinky-party thing.» he nodded at the memory. An uncomfortable silence urged you to get out of the situation as soon as possible, but some McLaren staff got between the two of you at the perfect moment; patting Daniel’s shoulders, they dragged him away from you, in delight for the team’s performance. Watching from a distance, you waved at Daniel, who flashed you with a warm smile. Although his presence had been gone by now, the discomfort didn’t disappear. The uneasiness of the situation, the mechanic interaction that had just occurred, Daniel looking behind you for no reason made you involuntarily turn as well, to check what was there to see: crowd, movement, and Red Bull staff working around Sergio’s car and inside the garage. An immediate nostalgia crawled up your chest, pervasive, spreading like a stain of paint inside a liquid, slowly covering every corner with color, thickness and weight. That deep navy blue, even darker under Singapore’s night sky, pierced through your soul, as Max appeared in your thoughts without notice. You badly needed to confront him, but didn’t know how: was there a way to tackle the topic without unraveling your feelings and putting your heart out, ready for him to stab? There wasn’t any, right? Your phone dinged. As sudden as a sparkle turning into a flame, you were pulled back to the present moment and you took the phone in your hand while mindlessly moving small and slow steps towards the podium, eyes glued to the screen. The mob was just a couple of meters ahead and you could hear the shouts, the cries of happiness and the Mexican anthem being played, all ricocheting onto your oversized Ferrari rain jacket, without touching you. Yet, despite the rain having stopped, you drowned inside the red, unable to think, to talk, to react to the flow of messages, texts, dms and comments popping on the screen, chasing each other, forcing your mouth agape so that they could reach your throat and lungs to clutch them. Small drops of champagne sprayed the air; you didn’t belong that joy, every face was foreign, the upbeat atmosphere roused an uncomfortable sense of anxiety. Humidity, alcohol and angst sticked to your hair, to your mind, hard to wash away despite the scraping. You walked away unnoticed, prey of confusion.

# Max threw himself onto the bed. He had turned down the silent offer of celebrating his teammate’s win; silent, because nobody in the team had dared get close expecting to find him in a good mood after such a race. After such a couple of days. The entire weekend had been a nightmare. Enjoying the calm of his room, he closed his eyes and breathed in, deeply. Upset? Yes. A lot. Was it helpful to be? No. Next weekend, he said to himself. Next weekend will be better. You must move forward. No time for mourning over past mistakes. No focus to spare to it. No energy to do it anyway. Kelly’s words bothered him; he could feel the hate being thrown at him by her supporters and his old, lawful bunch of haters. Nothing better to ask for in such an idyllic media spot. Acting like adults, huh? Taking advantage of the major shitstorm the entire team and him were in so that she could come clean without even trying? Really? Pointing the finger against him and portraying him as the heartless and unloving boyfriend was the only way to announce the breakup? Max didn’t believe she’d stoop so low. For those words he had given up the resolution to go speak to you, maybe even confessing – but no, of course, his assistant had to bring that happy news and the reminder of the endless interviews awaiting him.

Max propped up onto his elbows and rubbed his eyes, then sat. Quickly grabbed the phone from the nightstand.

Too impatient to wait her reply, he adventured in his direct messages and found an awful lot of relationship experts criticizing him for anything, way more than usual; but what really caught his full attention, was your name popping up in some of the texts’ previews. Somehow, Max had never expected you to be targeted as harshly as people would do with him; maybe it was a hope, a conviction born from obliviousness. Disturbed by it, he checked the text he sent. Kelly had read it. No reply, yet. To a degree, Max didn’t expect to act any different. The feelings he had been nurturing for years had been withering by then, and Max couldn’t help but wonder when he had started watering the plant of the relationship he had with you to the point he didn’t even care about Kelly as much as he used to.

# You rushed inside the hotel, in desperate need of sleep and loneliness. Speeding through the hall, though, you were promptly beckoned by the receptionist, who showed up holding an envelope in his hand. «Miss, this is for you.» he handed it to you. «Who’s sending it?» you asked, rather confused. «Uhm, is it not written onto the envelope?» «No…» you said, checking several times. You hadn’t revealed your hotel address to anyone; who would send you a letter anyway? You really had no real friends outside the F1 circus. Plus, an anonymous sender? He made absolutely no sense to you. Maybe the name was written inside the letter… But why hiding it? Could it come from some freak? Could it be… hate, from someone? Perhaps threats? As your fingers tried to sense the words inked inside the paper, a feeling of repulse caught you. Still, you couldn’t get rid of the envelope. The receptionist awkwardly smiled and left you standing alone right before the lift area.

Shutting the door behind you, you scrutinized the envelope once more, lingering onto the calligraphy: it wasn’t embellished, and it was clear whoever wrote had put effort in making it legible. It seemed shaky. Or was it your hands trembling? An unexplainable nervousness rushed through your veins: for sure, you were curious, but dread filled your mind with doubts. You were too scared to read things you weren’t ready to face, you felt too weak, and reckoned you had read enough for the day, as your eyelids longed for sleep. With hurry, you stuffed the letter inside the suitcase; you would deal with it after landing in Japan, putting current events aside and approaching it with a clearer mind. Stripping your clothes off in tiredness, you kept your oversized Ferrari shirt on and laid on the bed, in hope it would shooed all the bad omens, like a dreamcatcher.

It didn’t. You failed to close eye, and you weren’t even surprised. Twisting in the sheets, pulling the cover tighter to your skin, feeling every inch of it caressing your body with its coldness, you spent the night in half-sleep, vigil of unknown dangers and anxieties, thoughts piercing the ceiling with their sharpness. Your fingers tightly gripped the comforter, desperate, because you felt the usual headache coming through the layer of sleepiness. Your eyes fluctuated between an alert state and tiredness pressing the skin down. You checked the phone: 4:57. Awake; you were still awake. It seemed like time passed by painstakingly slow and fast at once. A thud distracted you: did you hear that or was it just a noise you had imagined? First some shuffling, then steady thuds following each other; and suddenly, light. You opened your eyes.

Awake; now you were awake. Had you managed to finally fall asleep for a couple of hours after an entire night? Better later than never. Sun beams cutting through your irises, hands immediately ran to cover them. «Oops, my bad.» Those whispered words stirred your heart with a gentle touch, and the figure shielding you from the unwanted brightness caused you to smile. And then to scream in fear right afterwards. «What are you doing in here!?» Waiting for his answer, you stretched a bit, tiredness marked onto your eyes. «Good morning to you too.» he said laughing. «Well, I think it’s afternoon.» Massaging the forehead, you looked up at him: as a flash, a thought lightened your mind. «The flight.» you sighed, gravity crushing your body towards the mattress. «Yep. I was scared you had left without me, but I’m glad to see I was wrong.» He stepped away, leaving you at the mercy of the sun, causing a few protesting moans. «What time is it?» you asked, rubbing sleepiness off your face. «It is… 1.14.» Max said, looking down at the wristwatch. You jumped into a sitting position. «Did we miss it?!» «It’s not a big deal, y/n. Next one is in one hour and a half, we’re good.» he paused. «But getting out of bed would be a nice start.» Max then added, jokingly. Still, you didn’t even try to move: you knew your arms and legs were against it, and you interpreted the lack of impulse reaching muscles as an unconscious invitation to enjoy the bed’s warmth a little bit more. «Hello? Y/n?» Eyes shut, Max’s voice was a weak call. But soon fingers brushing against your skin and tickling your belly caught you bursting in laughter, your body twitching and nesting into a ball. «No, no, no! Please, Max, stop!» you pleaded, unable to hold laughter. «Need you to stand on your feet, I don’t trust your sleepy ass.» «Okay, okay, I will, but get off of me!» Max silently obliged and laughed as you muttered a “Thank you”. His smile faltered as he followed your hectic movements, fingers tousling your hair, frantically trying to check once again whether your suitcase was good to go and which clothes would be the most comfortable for the six hours of flight. The bright red of your shirt immediately caught Max’s attention: he knew you had watched the race from Ferrari’s garage, and he was annoyingly aware as to why you hadn’t had any other choice. «You slept with that shirt?» Suitcase in your hands, you turned around and saw Max leaning against the wall, arms crossed. «Yes, uhm… I was tired, yesterday.» His unreadable expression awoke a sparkle of awkwardness in you: a tension you should’ve immediately sensed, as it was the first time you two were talking after… The kiss. «Hope you won’t wear it for the flight.» he said, breaking the contact from the wall and getting closer. «Need help with the luggage?» His body towering you didn’t make you at ease. No, better to rephrase it: the comfort you wanted to seek in it was pressing you so deeply you had to stop yourself from refuging in his chest; so you stumbled backwards, dragging the suitcases with you. «No, thanks, I’ve already packed.» you squealed, falling sat onto the bed. «Okay.» Finding his own presence completely unnecessary, Max slowly walked towards the door, throwing a little smile to you. «I’ll wait for you in the hall.» As the lock clicked, you sighed and fell flat onto the comforter. You felt drained already, both by the awkwardness of the conversation and the sleepless night.

You stared outside the window. A flight had never seemed you so long. You’d been having an upset stomach for around fourty minutes and the only thing you were able to do was keeping swallowing, breathing harshly with shut eyelids, praying it would magically go away. Clearly, that didn’t work out. Max had noticed you had gone quiet: he would casually glance at you, one earphone in, scrolling down your phone – maybe watching tiktoks? He had no idea, but you seemed focused, in a way – as he was exchanging a few words either with GP, Christian or his manager Raymond Vermeulen. He knew you were trying to isolate yourself because sitting with such people made you feel an outsider or an unwanted guest, especially after the latest events, but at the same time people from the team had got accustomed to your presence and, since Max liked having you on board, they had never told you off as they did in Singapore. That had been the first time, and Max had made it really clear for it to be the only one.

Getting off the plane, the ground felt like a swamp under your feet, an instable puddle to your waving head. «I’m so hungry!» Max said, getting a laugh from the entire group. «I mean, it’s almost 7 p.m., how about we drop things at the hotel and then we have dinner somewhere fancy?» someone from the team suggested. «I vote that!» Max pointed. «And who’s doing the unpacking?» Raymond asked. «C’mon, mate, you have two more days to do that!» Sergio suddenly jumped into the conversation. The voices cut off as you entered one of the black vans awaiting all of you. You sure felt nauseous, and cramps assaulted your stomach at the same time. Could it be your period? You quickly checked the tracking app on your phone since you didn’t trust your memory but, well, it just confirmed it couldn’t be it. You’d had just a tiny snack throughout the flight… How could it mess you up that much? «Let’s go!» Max said as he got in the van, upbeat, breaking your trail of thought.

The door was closed. Is it? You checked it. Yes, it was shut. Turning around, you bumped into the suitcase. You stretched your arms out to prevent its fall, almost losing balance. Throwing a quick glance to the windows, you noticed a huge building across the street, right opposite to the hotel, and you could almost see people filling each apartment as small bees inside a beehive. Could they see you? Was it dangerous to leave the blinds open? It was getting dark regardless, so it was only a good idea to shut them off… Keys. Where did you put them? Onto the bedside table. Okay. Okay? Not really.

WHAT A BITCH

Did you bring with you the medicine from Monaco? Maybe you had something for the-

she’s not worthy tbh

No, you forgot them at home.

Such a loser

The thermometer. The one that would know everything about you. You had forgot it too.

Ngl, she looks stupid

You gagged. Before you could realize it, you found yourself running to the bathroom and kneeling in front of the toilet.

Whore.

Poorly trying to tie your hair, you gripped the toilet seat waiting for the pit in your stomach to bring out all your anxiety.

homewrecker… remember Kelly is better than you’ll ever be

Nothing but spit came out of your mouth.

fr who the fuck is this chick

You tried to rest your head onto the back of your hand; all the comments you had read during the flight had been spiraling and twirling in your mind relentlessly, playing all over again, to the point you couldn’t even- «Y/n?» A knock.

Hope she doesn’t believe max could ever be in love with someone like her

Instead of an answer or, rather, the incoherent and frustrated scream you wanted to let out, your head was drawn back down, as you threw up. «Y/n?» Max didn’t like to abuse having the key to your hotel room as well; you knew and had never complained about it, after all. Standing before the door, not receiving a reply, he reluctantly unlocked it with his pass and slightly opened it, willing to ask for permission first. The gagging noises he heard coming from inside were enough to kill any hesitation. «Hey, are you alright?!» Max moved slow steps at first, not really sure he had heard right. Then he saw you bent over the toilet; and he sprinted over, lowered down and was about to hold your hair for you, but you smooth it out with your fingers as you sensed the wave had passed. «What’s wrong, is it something you ate?» he immediately asked, trying to figure out the problem. «No, don’t think so.» you whispered, eyes closed. A few seconds of shared silence followed. «Is it over?» Max asked with a low tone, rubbing your back a little. You carefully nodded. «Let’s get cleaned up, then.» He tried to guide your movements, opened the tap for you, kept a hand lingering on your side just to feel you near, since your expression was so distant and emotionless. He wanted to do something for you, but you were acting as he wasn’t there, as you weren’t there. «I came to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner.» he bitterly smiled, still facing the mirror. «I’m sorry, Max… It seems like I can’t get over being ill.» you said, dropping eyes to the sink. «It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It just… sucks.» Hands resting onto your arms, Max unconsciously rubbed your skin with his thumb. He wanted to spend time with you. And you could never be present. «I know.» you whispered. And he couldn’t always stay by your side because of his schedule. Max felt you slipping away from his grasp and turned his head to watch you sit down onto your bed, scooting towards the head board, crunching your legs a little. «I can save you some food for later? We can eat it together once I get back-» «Thanks, Max, but I think I’m going to rest a little.» No. «Uhm, okay then.» Max ran out of words. He got out, slowly shut the door behind him. No. The sheer distance separating you was a wrong to the moments you had shared and lived. Max couldn’t bear it: there was no way you both could go over the intimacy, over kissing each other, without addressing the elephant in the room. No words, no thoughts, no discussion, no feelings. He needed to talk it all out in order to clear his mind, understand things with you, and do it together, see you unveiling your piece of heart, guiding him through an unexpected path. Instead, nothing.

Tuesday was a lazy day. You had woken up over the sheets, like Max had left you. Still confused, you grabbed your phone, abandoned on the covers since the night before.

Max, two hours prior. You sighed, your arm falling back onto the pillow, next to your face. He’d sent you a picture of an empty seat in front of him, probably coming from the newly built hospitality. Still caught staring at the photo, you were taken aback as the screen turned darker and the phone started ringing in your hand. Charles was… facetiming you? «Hello?» you said, immediately embarrassed about your voice coming out hoarse. «Y/n! Hi!» he chirped. «Are you… are you still in bed?» «Uhm, yeah…» you cleared your throat, trying to get into a sitting position. «I think I’m still ill. Don’t feel good.» «Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.» Charles’ brows followed his words. «Do you still have a cold?» «No, I feel sick. Not much of an appetite.» you sadly smiled. «I… I see.» You saw the Monegasque briefly disappearing from the screen, as some indistinct chatter filled your room. Before you could make out a “Let me say hi to her!” in the background, Carlos bright face was already greeting you on the screen. «Hola, y/n!» ��Hello, Carlos.» you chuckled. «What happened to the royal couple?» «Uh?» your eyelashes batted in confusion. «You and Max. I saw him down the paddock, all alone… Did something happen between you two?» «Carlos, she’s ill.» Charles argued, laughing at the blunt curiosity of his teammate. «Is it true?» the Spaniard surprised eyes piercing the screen. You simply nodded. «Hope it isn’t a crappy excuse to stay away from him.» «And away from us.» Charles jumped in. «I’m still waiting for the hot chocolate I won last time.» «Guys…» you passed a hand onto your face, deeply inhaling. «I’ll do everything to get better as soon as possible, ‘cause I don’t like being ill myself. It isn’t because I want to avoid people, you know.» «Of course we know, y/n, we were just messing with you.» Charles quickly said with a quieter tone, willing to reassure you. «So… the royal couple is doing good?» Carlos tried once again. «Why do you keep calling us like that?» you asked, exasperated but amused at the same time by his silliness. «Because you’re the most famous couple out there at the moment, paparazzi seem to love you together as much as you love each other.» «Carlos, I think that’s enough damage for today.» Charles gently pushed him out of the way, still laughing. «Sorry, y/n, I’ll text you later!» «Thanks for calling!» you said, your voice cracking. He simply smiled as he lowered the phone, muttered a small “Bye” and closed the call. You were left with sudden emptiness. The thought of Max still lingered around your mind, danced intertwined with a bittersweet taste.

Sluggish, you had decided to get advantage of the restaurant service offered by the hotel for lunch, since it was too late to have breakfast anyway; you had told yourself you had to put a bit of effort, trying to fight the nausea and having a meal after long hours of nothing. As you searched in advance for some handkerchiefs into the unpacked suitcase, an envelope resurfaced from the bottom: it was the letter you had been given back in Singapore. The one you were so scared to open. Carlos’ words about journalists still writing articles about you and publishing old pictures nobody had been interested in so far made you even more nervous than you already were. Maybe more stressed out about it than the necessary. However, the lack of sender stopped you from tearing the paper off and read the content. Who would do that? You checked the clock: it was way too early for lunch. Sitting down the edge of the bed, you turned around the envelope, then opened it with a sharp, determined gesture. You were quite shocked to see it was handwritten; more so, after you started making sense of the first words.

Dear Y/n, I don’t know if you’ll ever receive this letter, but in case you do, don’t answer back: this is the reason why there’s no sender - and of course, so that you wouldn’t throw the letter in the trash can. Please don’t reply, as I don’t want your mother to know I’m writing to you. She’s ill, she’s been dealing with burnout for a while and had to quit her job because of it. She had never told you, but this is why we had to sell the house, since my pay wasn’t enough for the two of us and, clearly, we couldn’t afford having a daughter. When you heard us saying you were a mistake, we meant it was a mistake having given birth to someone we couldn’t take care of. You deserved more and I think leaving you was the right choice, since you’ve found people who manage to do a better job at maintaining you than your mother and I ever could. Never thought I’d see you on the news, though… By the way, this is how I discovered your hotel address; may it be right. Just try to stay out of troubles, okay? I don’t know if you’re still working and are economically independent, but I hope so, because relying too much on wealthy people makes you vulnerable. You aren’t trying to get into this guy’s entourage just for money, are you? Since you left, your mother has been getting better. We’ve also done a small trip to Italy to help her relax and recover as well. She may be able to get back to work soon. You see, I think parting ways was the best decision for all of us. We’re all benefiting from staying away from each other and, ultimately, I believe things should stay as they are. Good luck,

Your father

Breathless, your eyes traced the last two words over and over again, almost consuming the paper with the staring. Your lungs burned in need of oxygen; gasping, tears gently made their appearance, willing to cross your cheeks and wet the letter. Your heart sunk deep into the chest, torn between contrasting emotions, unsure whether to swell in fury or shrink in sadness. The hand which held the letter lost strength and rested on your lap, uncapable of sustaining the weight of disappointment, rage, inner turmoil and desperation. A part of you was stuck wondering what could have possibly provoked your mother’s burnout, but the louder voice you heard screaming and screeching inside didn’t make sense of your father’s words. The best decision for all? Was it what they both thought? Were they really that much better off without you? To the point your mother had improved her health? To the point he was bold enough to say it was a win-win situation, something everybody was gaining benefit from? The unnecessary hint about your unclear intentions with Max had your nausea to peek through: how could he think so lowly of you, how could he even feel good suggesting you how to lead your life after he had deliberately decided to have nothing to do with it? The mere fact he had wrote a ridiculous letter got you standing up and pacing in frustration inside the room, sobbing, hands tugging your hair. It didn’t make sense. They had said they wanted to fully disappear from your life, without leaving a trace; such an unwelcomed, unfortunate and senseless act confused you and put you through a pain even bigger than the one you were already experiencing because of the entire situation. The abandonment was suddenly covered by a coat of insincere fraud you’d never be able to scratch away. Halting the hurry, your legs crumbled and you sat down the bed, once again. At the thought of having lunch as you had intended to do, your stomach clenched tight, shut, refusing to oblige. Tears would’ve only made your meal salty and bitter.

«And… Stop! Good job, Max, we’re done!» Thank God, he immediately thought, releasing the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding. The umpteenth content of the week had been recorded and was ready to be thrown to the lions’ crowd, so that they could chew on it until next race, endlessly ruminating and always hungry for more. How hateful. To be honest, he didn’t know how he had been able to cope with it for so many years; for sure, the activities weren’t as demanding back at the time, nor he was a soon-to-be two-times World Champion. The number of activities had been piling up and increasing so sharply that not even being devoted to winning could completely eclipse it. Well, not really something he was able to fix anyway. The contract spoke clear. «I need a drink.» Max said getting up, earning a laughter from the crew. «I’m serious.» he insisted, searching for someone’s eyes to get his point across. His manager scratched the back of his own neck, aware there wasn’t a chance to get away without confronting with Max’s request. «Tomorrow we have the press conference… I don’t want you to be shit-faced, clear?» «Who’s getting shit-faced?» Pierre’s thick accent was immediately followed his amused tone, tailgated by Yuki and his laugh. «Do you guys want to have a drink?» Max caught the opportunity to have the Alpha Tauri drivers on board so that it would be harder to stop three people from loosen up a bit, after a day wholly dedicated to PR events and activities. «Oh, good idea! Yuki can drive us around, right?» Pierre accepted with enthusiasm. With a smug smirk blooming onto the lips, Max turned again toward his manager. «Checkmate.» «Remember about tomorrow’s schedule…» Raymond sighed, helpless. «Like I could ever forget!» Max sneered.

The three of them had crossed Suzuka’s evening lights under the clouded streets and had reached a karaoke building with room service as well. Before they knew it, they had ordered and ate a decent amount of sushi and filled the small room with awful singing, at least from Pierre and Yuki’s side. Of course, Max had categorically refused to join, despite the protests from the two teammates. Dim lights, fingers wrapped around the drink, legs manspreaded onto the small couch, Max felt his mind slipping away and travelling to distant memories. Closing his eyes, your features appeared before him, softly dancing in the clouds of his mind, getting closer with a vaporous grace. Your scent, the heat of your palpitating skin, the blinding sweetness of your smile intoxicated him as he took another sip of his drink, willing to keep hallucinating such a fantasized presence. As some sort of summoning, a spell, he felt skin touching his lap; looking over, a hand was resting on it, feather-like. It was you, he was convinced; he longed for that contact, he cherished that string connecting the both of you in such hectic days. The warmth of the fingers seemingly rubbing over his lap felt like cradling; Max swallowed hard and tilted his head back, taking in that piece of heaven alcohol was offering him. Feeding the forbidden, the sudden touch provoked and unraveled inappropriate and unrealistic hopes: as a tantalizing movie was beginning to play in his mind, Max almost gasped when it got interrupted by a voice. «Bro, he’s gone!» Laughter pulled Max’s head into its natural position, bringing him back to reality after getting lost in the dream of you. He quickly realized Pierre was sitting way too close to him… and that the hand moving onto his leg was the Frenchman trying to awake him from the trance. «You okay, mate?» It was no soulmate connection. «Y-yeah, just tired.» Pierre raised a knowing brow, reading into Max’s dilatated pupils and slightly reddened cheeks a reaction which spoke for itself. «I think it’s time to go back to the hotel.» Yuki said, checking the time onto his phone. «Yeah, we already had fun.» Pierre replied, keeping eye contact with Max as he got up the leather couch. Thinking he would’ve spent even a more amazing night if only you wouldn’t have been locked in your room because of sickness, Max downed at once what was left of the drink. He checked once again his phone, searching for a reply to the text he had sent you amid the photoshoot.

For a split second, the impulse of running to you and finally satiate his wants crossed his mind, but Yuki and Pierre’s silhouettes exiting the karaoke room urged him to do the same without an afterthought.

# The comforter was full of crumbs. Laid down, you had spent the day staring at the ceiling, at the walls, at the long curtain draping the room. You’d had no energy to do much else. After a while, finally feeling a bit hungry, you had eaten some crackers painstakingly slow, not totally sure whether your body would accept them. Surprisingly, it did; and you had fallen asleep with the plastic wrapper still in your hand, until you woke up as the sun was radiating the last beams. Bored and tired, you took your phone from the nightstand. Surprised to see a text from Charles, you quickly opened the chat.

You sadly smiled to yourself.

You froze. The dried tears on your skin awoke and called for new, fresh, hot ones to run again down your face. You had seen them arguing, but Charles had reassured you, saying it was part of being a couple. You had bought into his words and the dream love you had believed to be true broke like shattered crystal, in pieces.

You smiled through watery eyes. In a matter of seconds, Charles had been able to flip you open as a book, read your uneasiness with the media situation and cure it with vulnerability, trust, support. All things your father and your mother hadn’t managed to do in years. You hid your face before your wrists, weeping and sobbing like a kid, amazed by the amount of love you’ve been receiving after leaving what you had always called “family”.

You didn’t even wait for him to text back; you simply let it fall on the bed, as your body did, and got close to the pillow, crushing it with the weight of disappointment in your parents, inadequacy for friendships you didn’t feel like deserving and the desire of a simple, undercover relationship with the person you missed the most as you laid down the bed, cold and lonely.

«And keep looking out the window… Perfect!» Max gazed at the dark clouds covering the city, while considering the weather conditions he would find during the weekend. It wasn’t going to be an easy race. «Okay, Max, now we have to head back to the hotel.» Raymond said, looking down his phone, checking the planner. Max, still staring out the window, furrowed his brows with a couple of seconds of delay. «Didn’t you tell me we had another PR activity right after?» he asked, doubting his own memory. Raymond hesitated a bit. «Yes, Max, we do have a PR thing in there.» «Thing? Is it that bad you don’t even want to tell me?» Max joked, taking off the jacket he had worn for the photo shoot. «No, it shouldn’t be anything too odd.» the manager replied, eyes still down to the screen. «So? What is it?» the driver insisted. «You’ll see when we get there.» Raymond forced a smile.

Max was clueless. He kept throwing glances at his manager, who stood tensed alongside him, and wondered what on earth could make him so nervous at the mere thought. Reaching the landing, Max saw some Red Bull stuff talking and joking in front of the door of one of team’s rooms, bringing in lighting and cameras. Max was clueless, utterly clueless, as he crossed the threshold, seeing Kelly chatting with people from the communication management. He abruptly stopped, clearly expecting anything but her. At the point, Kelly noticed his presence, turned around and politely put on a practiced smile, approaching him. Beyond confused, Max searched for his manager’s eyes. «Raymond, what is this?» The man couldn’t help but stutter, prompting Alice Hedworth to give some explanation. «Kelly contacted us and told she was sorry for the problems her Instagram story involuntarily caused and kindly offered to help putting an end to the… controversy of the breakup creating some “redeeming” content, so to speak.» Alice answered. «I had already booked the tickets for Suzuka, so I thought it would’ve been a good idea to get the most out of them and mend a difficult media situation for all of you, and especially for y/n.» Kelly jumped in. «By the way, I hope she hasn’t taken the comments too bad.» she went on, addressing Max with those words and presenting them with a pained expression. The entire room going silent, everyone waited his reaction filled with tension and anticipation, hanging off his lips. «Okay. What do I have to do?» he said, indifferent. «Uhm, first let’s get you changed, Max…» Raymond exchanged a surprised look with Alice, both surprised by the lack of protests or rebuke, after witnessing his reaction only a week earlier to your “ban” from the paddock.

Exiting the lift back from lunch, you had been taken aback to see such a movement and noise coming from the floor plan; specifically, you noticed a door being flung open by someone from the Red Bull team, entering the room next to it in search of some equipment and immediately turning back inside. Moved by curiosity, you slowly made your way to the doorstep and peeked in. You stood still. Turned your back to the door, got closer to the stairway. You moved in slow, syncopated steps, then picking up the pace a bit, you sped down the stairs, reached the floor below and even made it to the other lower landing, but then fell crouched, gripping the handrail with all your might, twirling down. You hid the silent screams with the palm of your hand, uncapable of holding your tears back. Everything, you had withstood anything: being separated by Max, not being able to spend time with him as you laid sick onto your bed, reading any type of torturing comment about you, cursing a letter you would’ve preferred not to be sent and playing miserable reruns of how your family wrecked and ripped. You had tolerated it all. All, but seeing Kelly nestling against Max and hugging him after they had broken up.

«Which one do you prefer? In this one your smile shows up a bit more, right?» «Uhm, they seem all alike.» «Please, help me choose one!» «Post the one you like the most, I don’t care.» Kelly raised her head to follow Max’s movements across the room with an annoyed expression. «You should care about this post, Max.» «That’s right. I care about the things you promised you would write in that post, not about the picture.» he pointed out, as he sat onto a small armchair. Kelly sighed and for a couple of minutes the only sound they both could hear was the typing onto the phone. «Done. Are you happy now?» she said, sitting on the bed, facing him. «You should be the one who’s happy, since you nicely created this PR stunt.» «This isn’t a stunt, Max, I really feel sorry for all the damage my story did.» «Well, then cheer! You saved us, congratulations.» he spitted out with sarcasm. «Max, can you please stop being so passive-aggressive?» Kelly snapped likewise. «Sorry.» Max whispered, clearing his throat, looking away. «These… these social media activities are killing me, I can’t put up with them anymore.» «I see.» They stayed silence for while, both lost in thought. «It’s strange I haven’t seen y/n yet, she’s always around you. Where did you hide her?» Kelly laughed. «She’s been sick the last couple days and I’ve been dragged around for media content like a plastic bag. Haven’t seen her since we landed.» Max’s tone didn’t leave space for replies: at a loss of words, Kelly found herself uncapable of being ironic any further about you, noticing how serious, drained and frustrated the situation made him. «I’m sorry, I didn’t know.» she replied, put together. «And like, really, I decided to come here to better the whole thing. I didn’t mean to cause drama in the first place.» «That’s too late, Kelly.» Max said, sinking deep back onto the armchair. «Hope she didn’t dig too much into the comments and everything they wrote…» Kelly sighed, looking out of the window, a hand brushing her arm. Suddenly struck by the meaning of those words, breached for the first time by the world surrounding him, Max set his eyes down on her profile. He hadn’t worried about it, so far. He hadn’t had time to waste on reading other people’s useless and unrequested opinions; he knew the media way too well, he had no need to assess the type of bullshit people would put out. He was used to brushing it off, just get over them easily; however, the thought you could not be as strong, not used to it, not accustomed to such an insisting exposure, didn’t even cross his mind once. And so it was only natural it would storm with force and rain down on him like a cold shower, looming over him all at the same time. Your unreadable face on the plane, your thumb casually scrolling hate; your silence. Max enriched the picture with new dark tones he had just discovered, not really sure to like them. He followed Kelly’s eyes, scrutinizing the foggy sky, in search of inner peace.

You stumbled as you kept walking downstairs, hand raised to hide your mouth and hold your tears. You couldn’t believe it. He had chosen her. After everything that happened between the two of them, between the two of you, he still chose her. How could you blame him? How could you blame her? But it wasn’t them choosing one another, was it? Maybe it was… you being rejected again? You halted your escape once again, unable to run away as you had intended. That couldn’t be the end of it all. No, that couldn’t be. You panicked at the thought: where would you go? Whose life would you ruin next? Which new guilt would you have to bear? In a sudden and scattered motion, you sprinted towards the hall, exiting the hotel in search of air, sighing and sobbing uncontrollably. Your ears rang, they rang, you were dizzy; the sound of pain stunned you, your cries were deaf hits echoing through the empty case of an indifferent world. A new ring added on top of it: your phone, a faded notification penetrating your bubble of sadness.

You cried harder. Hand sweeping tears away from your cheeks, you try to type a reply.

You could see them. You could see all the pictures taken while you entered the paddock, walking miserably, unable to stand and get your shit together, entering Ferrari’s hospitality. Despite being upset by what you had just witnessed, you were able to tell it wasn’t a good idea.

Charles didn’t think much of it. He simply imagined you wanted him to pick you up and walk together back to the paddock; after all, it was your first time in Suzuka, so maybe you were scared to get lost. But then he saw you standing a ten of meters away from the hotel entrance, and he sensed right away something was off. He heard a loud sob, making you crunch forward, as you started walking towards him. Every step you took closer to him, Charles’ heart sank deeper and deeper into his chest. He immediately met your wandering hands, trying to soothe their frantic despair, and gripped them tight as your face pointed to the ground, unconsciously drawing your entire weight towards the same direction. He called your name, either to express his regret, encourage you or ask what was wrong, but you didn’t even pay attention to him; you seemed deaf to any call. Charles, painfully reminded of the last time he had pick you up in a similar condition, gently guided you towards the pavement, heading to the nearby hotel the entire Ferrari stuff stayed at.

As soon as the door was unlocked, you blindly dived into the room, letting the flow of tears provoke sighs, without restraints, hands covering your eyes in shame. Charles stood speechless, tracing with his eyes the outline of your back, which was facing him. «Y/n…» he murmured. Seeing how you failed to acknowledge him, he moved a step forward and got closer. «Y/n, come on.» Charles said again, softly touching your shoulder with his fingertips. You turned and he pulled you into a hug, trying not to squeeze you too much. «Is it because you still feel sick?» he asked. You whined in denial, uncapable of articulating a proper answer. «Then it’s Max.» he concluded, more speaking to himself than making a question. Charles pulled you out of the embrace, hands firm onto your shoulders; he wanted to catch some sort of reaction from you, with little result. «Is it… Did you talk about the kiss and he said something bad? You know he can be a bit awkward, you don’t need to stress over it…» «He still loves Kelly.» you said through the tears. «He still loves her.» Voice broken from crying, you covered your face with both hands. «Why do you think that?» he asked, in disbelief. «I saw them, Charles…» you swiped your cheek with the back of the hand. «I saw them hugging, they were smiling… They seemed so happy to be together.» Charles frowned in sorrow hearing your voice crack. «A-after… after all the things that happened, after all the cruelty people have thrown at me… The way Kelly treated me last time we saw and Max not even talking to me…» And the letter. «I… I’ve been in so much pain.» Not louder than a whisper, your words pushed Charles’ fingers to gently lift upwards your afflicted face. «Y/n, look at me, please.» he demanded with a soft resolution. Still sobbing, you obliged and saw him sadly smile. «I knew it wasn’t easy for you.» he whispered, drying a tear with his thumb. «And I know that in this moment is difficult to think clearly, but what if things aren’t as you imagine them to be? You don’t know what the hug was for. Maybe they have decided to stay friends, considering the situation with Kelly’s daughter…» You snorted, interrupting his talk. «Who decide to stay friends with their exes and then starts to hang out with them right after a breakup?» you asked, sarcastic. «Charlotte and I do.» You stared at him, deadpanned, pained once again by his brutal confession. «Y/n, I know it’s hard to believe, especially since you and Max haven’t talked about it, but I’m one hundred percent sure he likes you over Kelly, and I’m not the only one thinking this.» You didn’t reply, but tried to nod, skin still stained with crying. «If you feel bad about it, if you want things to be clear between the two of you, go tell him. Ask him about Kelly, tell him you liked or hated the kiss, be jealous or choose to be understanding, but please have a conversation with him. Either as friends or as a couple, you need to communicate. He should’ve heard the things you told me now and seen you cry.» You pressed your lips together trying to stop yourself from weeping loudly: his words made you feel stupid, coward. What if Charles had never sent you a text? What would you have done? You suddenly realized how deeply you needed to be open and honest with Max, to be close and vulnerable, so that he could heal you as he always did. «Talk to him.» Charles added, resolute. «Please, promise you will talk to him.» You sniffed, slowly smiling at his insistence. «Say something!» he then laughed, finally relieved to see a sparkle of light on your face. «I don’t deserve a friend like you.» you said with unstable voice, hugging him. Charles couldn’t stop a smile. «You’re a good friend as well, y/n.» he replied. «Especially when you offer me one of your divine drinks.» You broke the hug, with a confused expression. «You are really striving for that hot chocolate, aren’t you?» «Of course I am. That’s the only think I’ve been caring about since we made the bet.» Your laughter echoed inside the room.

You felt lucky and blessed by such a precious friendship; but your mind kept comparing Charles’ embrace and reassuring manners with the heavenlike, cradling and calming effect Max had on you and that you terribly missed.

«And so you were able to find a solution?» Daniel asked. «Yes, I mean, we hope it will work.» Max said, putting his phone back in his pocket. «Does y/n know?» «No, I’ve just texted her so that we can talk.» Daniel nodded, full of thoughts. «Right… I assume the mission you entrusted me with last Sunday miserably failed.» Max, who had almost completely forgotten about his unexplained request, looked at Daniel with eyes wide open. «Fuck, I forgot to warn you.» «No worries, I saw you walking away. But… Will she be at the garage this week?» «They told me to wait because they need to check whether the post is calming waters, but I wanted to talk to her as soon as possible.» «Haven’t you done it yet?» the Aussie asked. «Nope, busy with social content all the fucking week.» «Did you meet at all?» Daniel raised his brows, bewildered. «No, this is why I’m waiting for her to reply.» And your timing proved itself perfect, as a notification sound followed his words.

Before Max could react and type a reply, his screen went dark and showed the name of his manager. «What’s up? No, no plans after free practice. What do you mean? Another one?! Didn’t we meet them already? Fuck’s sake… Okay. Right. Bye.» Daniel raised his brows again, implicitly asking Max to explain the situation. «I have to attend a dinner with a sponsor out of town.» he brushed his eyes with his hands. «Fuck.» he exhaled.

«Of course!» Max murmured full of frustration, as he read your text.

Charles dried with a towel his sweating forehead. He was frustrated. Watching over his side, he saw the reason: Max had snatched the pole position away from him for one tenth, and he was now taking off his helmet next to him. Let down for the incredibly small gap separating him from the best result, he couldn’t take his eyes off the Red Bull driver. There was a rush, a concern in his demeanor, something that Charles read between the lines of his body language. He chose to get closer to him and congratulate him with a handshake and a wink, before trying to initiate the conversation with the words on the tip of the tongue. Taken aback, though, Charles listened to Max addressing him right as he approached him. «Had fun with y/n? this morning» the Dutch asked, collecting his gloves in a hurry. «Uh?» «She told me you two had a bet.» Max went on, removing his earphones. «Oh, yeah. Well, the bet was between me and Carlos, but y/n was involved, and she was responsible for my prize.» At those words, Max’s piercing irises fixed upon Charles, with a cold, emotionless stare. He clearly didn’t appreciate your name and a prize mentioned in the same sentence – at least, in someone else’s mouth. You were the best prize life could’ve ever offer him and wasn’t willing to share. After a few seconds of awkward silence, they both started walking down the pitlane. «Anyway, did you talk to her by any chance?» the Monegasque asked, almost chasing Max who was proceeding briskly. «Why are you asking?» Charles wetted his lips, unsure about how to put it right, before speaking up. «I… I really think you guys should talk.» Max stopped in his track and consequently forced Charles to do the same. «And what should we talk about, exactly?» the Red Bull driver asked, half amused and half shocked. «I don’t know… but I’m sure y/n does.» he confidently said, nodding to himself. «Uhm, okay…?» In visible confusion, Max was about to dig deeper into the piece of advice, but they both got called out by some journalists, willing to immortalize the moment with thousands of pictures.

Loitered by interviews, Max tiredly walked up in front of your hotel room, finding it already unlocked: you had agreed on meeting after qualifying and, since there wasn’t a way to predict when that would be, you had promised to leave the door open. As he pushed the it to get in, he was about to greet you calling your name, before he saw you curled up onto the mattress, eyes shut. Max closed the gap with stealthy steps and stared at you, peaceful drifted away. Almost unconsciously, he removed a strand of hair away from your forehead, with a feather-like motion, in order not to wake you up. After hectic days and lack of communication, Max smiled at the thought of silence being the cure: he only needed to have you in sight in order to feel calm, relieved, secure. He laid down next to you onto the bed and carefully engulfed you in a cuddling embrace, enjoying your undisturbed, slow and steady breaths. Max scrolled his phone for a bit, softly rubbing your skin with a thumb; then, suddenly, he felt your body turning onto his, your head now resting over his chest and trapping him down the mattress, with you. Struck by the innocent sweetness of the gesture, his heart smiled of unexpected joy and so did his lips, which left a kiss on your head. And under invitation of the descending sun and the relaxation of the moment, Max fell asleep, hugging you close.

Awakening was slow. You struggled to keep your eyes open, too tangled up into sleeps’ spirals, willing to spend some more minutes in delight. Then a thought hit you. You had to meet Max. As an involuntary reflex, you searched for your phone: Sunday, 9:46 AM. 2 unread messages from him.

Walking towards the door, you stepped onto a piece of paper, producing a shuffling noise: it was your father’s letter. You stood still, then quickly picked it up and stuffed it down inside your pocket.

Deep in thought, you strolled towards the paddock with a lump in your throat: you weren't sure what Max had in store to tell you, but you knew you would probably have to say something as well. As Charles' insisted plead repeatedly played in your head, you wondered what you needed to address first: the kiss you both, deliberately or not, decided to ignore and bury under the rug? The brutality of the comments you had received because of the rumors and how deeply it had affected you, to the point you got sick? Or was it better to denounce the re-found trust and love between him and Kelly, which you had witnessed, asking for an explanation? And what about his silence in the past couple days? You had been silent as well, but what if it was his way to subside the kiss? Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him? A shaken breath, you kept walking. Entering the paddock, you expected some paparazzi to follow you as they had done only a week earlier, but nobody was there to chase you: the focus seemed to be shifted upon the race, for once.

Max's face lit up as he saw you coming towards the hospitality, hands inside your jacket's pockets. Without hesitation, he came towards you and welcomed you with a hug, oblivious to any unwanted attention by journalists and team stuff passing nearby; he had missed having you around way too much to care. You snuggled up into the embrace, finding a crumb of relief from your worries within his safe arms. «Let’s go inside.»

He guided you towards his room at the hospitality, so that you could have some privacy while everybody moved feverishly. It was a small, minimalistic space, barely characterized; the humidity of Suzuka forced you to take off your jacket, as you looked around. You didn't have much to fixate your stare upon, so you quickly made eye contact with Max, who was waiting for you to acknowledge him with a vague smile. You tried to match him, but you couldn’t hide the bit of shyness you felt. «What did you want to tell me?» you went straight to the point. «You don’t even ask me to delete the pictures I took of you?» Max teased. You simply rolled your eyes, now your smile being on full display. «No, because I’m curious to listen to what you have to say. I mean, it seemed pretty important.» «Right.» he said. «It is important. But it might be something that you already know…» Your raised brows invited him to finally explain. «I met Kelly, on Thursday.» Time stopped, after these words. Your heart screamed, absolutely reluctant to hear the rest: the beginning preluded to a devastating finale, and your feelings wouldn’t tolerate it. Still, you didn’t interrupt, you didn’t move. You didn’t even blink. «She came here to mend the hate towards the both of us that she involuntarily fueled with her instagram story. So we took some pictures in which we look perfectly at ease and then she posted them, writing that she didn’t mean to shade us and that she dissociate from all the hate.» You almost gaped at him, the tables suddenly turning: as he showed you the pictures, a wave of relief erased part of the worries and pain you had felt, which had proved to be unjustified. «And how could this work?» you asked after staring at the phone for a while. «It’s working because she completely denied the narrative of me being a cheater and now people are starting to feel bad about the two of us being accused and assailed by media.» «A bit too late…» you whispered, diverting gaze. «Better late than never, though.» Max got closer to you and took you by surprise as his hands touched your upper arms. «I should’ve helped you coping with all the comments and the media attention. I didn’t realize it would be overwhelming for you. I’m sorry.» Eyes closed, you shook your head lightly. «It’s not your fault.» «And it certainly isn’t yours, y/n.» Without thinking too much, you got closer and rested your cheek against his chest. Max took the opportunity to wrap your sides, cradling with matching breaths and heartbeats, enjoying the little bubble of re-found proximity.

All the words you had planned to say disappeared in a second: despite not having answered some of the questions crossing your mind, nuzzled against him you felt no need to be told much else. No overthinking could ruin the moment. Caught up in your own world, you both didn’t pay attention to the background laughter and chatter of the hospitality, let alone of steps approaching the room. «Max, we have the- Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt!» The communication manager, Alice, entered the room and backed off right away, tittering. Red cheeks giving away your embarrassment, you looked up to Max, who boldly challenged her with his stare. «Oh, here you are! I wanted to talk to you. Y/n can watch the race from the garage, right?» «Uhm, I didn’t… I haven’t thought about it.» Alice answered. «But the post with Kelly is doing great. We’re fine now.» Max insisted. «I didn’t come here to discuss this.» she sighed. «And I would go for a more cautious approach, but I guess the real core of the rumors is centered around the cost cap, not on the two of you…» «Awesome. I’m coming to the meeting, give me two seconds.» Max said, smiling to her and then over to you. As Alice got away from the doorstep, the atmosphere became more intimate once again. «See you later, then.» you said, a bit dazed. «You can come to the garage a bit earlier, to catch up, you know.» he hesitantly murmured. «Of course!» you squeaked. Both grinning at each other like two idiots, you decided to flee away before the situation would get too awkward; and in doing so, totally lost in hustle, you forgot your jacket in Max’s room. He was too caught up in his thoughts too, and he only noticed it once he came back from the meeting Alice had reminded him of, just before having some lunch together with Daniel. As soon as his eyes fell upon the jacket, he silently laughed to himself, taking a picture of it and sending you a text.

Amused, he picked the jacket up from the bed, in order to place it on his chair instead, but while doing so a piece of paper fell to the ground. Max, naturally curious, took it in his hands, turning it around and scrutinizing it: opening the folders a couple of times, he realized it was a letter. Tempted, he swallowed hard, partly confused by the address, partly aroused by the will to know more. He tried to shrug it off, heading over the exit of the hospitality and walking with the paper hid in his pocket.

«What if… it’s from a secret admirer?» Max rolled his eyes, annoyed by Daniel’s inquiries. «What? Don’t you think she could have one?» «I don’t think this is the case, I’d expect some cheesy stuff like “to my muse” or shit like that.» Max said. «Isn’t there some “your admirer”? A name? Some clues?» Daniel prompted. «Nope, there’s only her address. Hope it’s not some creep or… threats.» At the thought, Max froze. You would tell him if it was something that serious, right? «There’s only one way to know.» «No, Dan, I’m not reading it. I don’t want to invade her privacy-» Daniel immediately took the letter and unfolded it, then put it before Max’s eyes. «You’re welcome.» Max couldn’t help but read, and was left thrown off right away by the weirdly affectionate “Dear y/n” – who would call you like that? – only to open his eyes wide rapidly going through the following lines; he then jumped to the bottom of the page, in need of confirmation, and marked the signature in his retina. Your father. «Is it a love declaration?» Max pictured you reading the letter, feeling disappointed, distraught: why did he decide to reach out to say that type of things? «… Is there anything worse than a love declaration?» His heart dropped: you had kept the pain of those words to yourself for at least a week. Why didn’t you talk to him about it? Why didn’t you confide to him? «Max… Hello?» Daniel shook his hand in front of his face. And then he remembered how unavailable he had been due to all the social media activities and events he had attended throughout the week, and of course, you being sick. «You really don’t blink.» Dan said, almost in admiration. Did you tell it to anybody? Maybe… to Charles? «Yes, 911? My friend isn’t blinking. I need help.» Was it the reason the Monegasque had been weird after qualifying and asked him to talk to you? Did he know? Did you trust Charles more than him? «Hand me the paper at least, so that I can share the PTSD with you.» Or maybe you had simply chosen to keep it silent, pretending the letter had never been sent. But if so, why didn’t you throw it away? «I have to go.» Max left without sparing a glance to Daniel, who simply followed with his eyes, in shock, the silhouette leaving him alone.

You walked towards the paddock as rain started to rain quite hard. Knowing the racetrack would be soaked didn’t put you at ease: Max could bring the championship home, but he needed a clean race – which didn’t seem likely, under your small umbrella. The pitlane already brimmed of life: with small and quick steps you moved through the journalists and engineers to reach the Red Bull garage. As soon as you approached the back of the box, utterly lost and disoriented, Max appeared out of nowhere and pulled you inside his preparation room in a blink. His fire suit down to the waist, he seemed to be already sweating despite the race not having begun yet. Max secured his hands onto the side of your arms, trying to keep you close, hoping you wouldn’t avoid the topic he wanted to tackle. «So… how’s the hostage doing?» you broke the ice, jokingly. Max lowered his gaze, turned his head to a little armchair and quickly grabbed the jacket which was over it. But before handing it to you, he slowly took the letter out of its pocket, staring deep into your eyes. His pained expression told you more than he could explain. You weren’t even mad at him reading it; sadness hovered over you, and it was your time to lower gaze. The mechanics working on the car only a couple of meters away was the perfect background for the two of you silently exchanging pain, closing eyes, searching for each other’s hands with unconsciously mirrored movements and merging in a hug, as you always did, putting boundaries aside and caring about nothing else but one another. After a piece of eternity, you ended up forehead against forehead, a bridge for your thoughts. Eyes still shut, Max was the first one to talk. «I don’t care about what he says, and neither should you.» he said, above a whisper. «I’ll be your family, y/n. You can lean on me, and I promise I’ll keep you safe and loved.» A lonely tear fell down your cheek. «You’ve been my only family since the beginning, Max.» His thumb immediately ran to swipe the liquid sadness away from your skin, bringing your faces closer and closer. «And I’ll still be. I’m not leaving you.» Your hearts, your eyes, your bodies, your breaths became one, as Max spoke once again. «I love you.» Your lips met, soft: it wasn’t a rushed kiss, but a chaste one, the lingering seal of his promise. Almost waking up from a deep sleep, you batted your eyelashes multiple times, trying to see clearer into the blue of his irises. In his arms, you magically realized blood couldn’t tie you tighter to anyone more than love could. Everything, anything you’d ever needed and craved stood before you. Words were missing to your racing thoughts; you desperately tried to reply, to put into a coherent sentence the mix of affection and emotion pouring in your heart, but didn’t manage. Instead, someone knocked onto the door of the room, calling for Max. The bubble plopped away, and the pressure, the expectations, the thrill for the race weighed down on you. Before Max could lower the knob, both your hands gripping his wrist and halting him, you shyly left a peck on his lips. «Good luck, Max.» you whispered. He grinned, fueled by a newly experienced happiness, and he carried you out of the room with him, holding hands, ready to face anything.

The rain falling incessant over the track echoed in your ears like a buzz. The delay in the start procedure only made you more nervous that you would already have been, bringing you almost to biting your nails. You tried not to directly look at Max, hoping he wouldn’t get affected by your stressed-out appearance; you only watched him from the monitors hung up the wall of the garage, casually showing at times things happening just a few meters away, and prayed for time to put an end to your restless waiting.

He crossed the line. Your eyes flicked to the second and the third positions, now showed onto the screen, monitoring the gap. You had spent the last fourty minutes mentally counting and checking what Max needed to do in order to be champion, and everything was in Charles and Checo’s hands. The cameras flied to capture the corners of truth: a move, only one single move in the entire race, would award the championship. And it came: you heard movement in the bleachers, echoing through your headphones, and saw the bright red Ferrari car going wide, letting Sergio’s Red Bull pass through. A realization setting in, the screams inside the garage, the mechanics running towards the pitlane to cheer Max, to greet their two-times champion of the world. You ran outside the box, still dazed. Little drops of rain pierced their way into your skin, hair and clothes: Japan was giving you its warmest goodbye with a clouded sky and a threatening thunderstorm. Such a lovely end to your week. You felt a joy impossible to put into words: the sun was shining beneath your skin, it made you glow and smile, it was warming your heart despite the cold air brushing your hair. Max was your sun. You saw it sparkling in his eyes, framed by the helmet, when he got out of the car. His stare a beam radiating colors, happiness, life to such a grey day.

The screams were definitely making Max deaf, but your discreet silence stood out to him way more than the cheers; your flushed cheeks, your eyes squeezed to leave space for a breath-taking smile drew him to you, they untangled him quickly from the pats and the hugs of the team. Getting closer to you, he removed the helmet and the balaclava; without thinking twice, you wrapped your arms around his neck to hug him in excitement. He didn’t react, he let you be the unleashed one. He didn’t match your uncontrolled energy, but as you backed off to stare at him, he took the chance to steal your lips with a deep, passionate, genuine kiss, while some of the mechanics whistled at the scene. Feeling yourself being lift a bit by his embrace, you curled your mouth up into a grin, drunk in bliss and love, as your hands still cupped Max’s face. Broken the kiss, your giggles were soon matched with his, the both of you indifferent to the world around you. As Max still held you close, you bit your lower lip in delight. «I love you too, Max.» You didn’t know the sun could burn brighter than it would regularly do, but he proved you otherwise: there was a light, a sparkle, a fire of undying awe inside his irises that no rain could ever extinguish. Your moment got interrupted by Charles patting Max’s shoulder, to congratulate his win – well, double win, considering both the race and the championship. In trance for what had just happened, it took a few seconds for you to realize Sebastian was moving his arm from afar trying to get noticed by you. «Seb, you did amazing! P6! And what a battle!» you said, as you got closer to him. «You both did amazing too.» Sebastian added with a smirk, quickly glancing at Max. «I’m so happy for the both of you.» Filled with gratitude, you couldn’t help but hugging him as a thanks.

After the podium celebrations, you saw Max running towards you, unexpectedly picking you up and making you twirl under the thin rain, laughing like two kids. When he finally put you down, he kissed your temple with a smile plastered onto his lips. «Ready to go home and celebrate?» he asked you. «I’m already home.» you replied, playing with the hem of his collar. After a few seconds of silence, Max sweetly looked back into your eyes. «You’re right. We’re already home.»

_____________________________________________________________

I'd like to say a lot of things, but this chapter is already lenghty, so I'll try to keep it short. Thanks, from the very bottom of my heart, to all the people who supported (also silently) this story. I truly hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it. I know there are a lot of mistakes - due to distraction while revising, mainly - and I'll fix them eventually, so thanks again for going past those and showing appreciation regardless. As usual, thanks to whoever leaves a note of feedback ♥ ✧ ˚ · . Wish you a good day . · ˚✧

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bluespecs14 · 3 months

Text

Threads and Bandages

Summary: Davey asks his sister for help to make a gift for Reader.

Warnings: mentions of bandages and (sewing) stitches, possibly ooc characters, use of (Y/N)

Word count: 1,008 words

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“Sarah, I need your help” Davey suddenly announces, breaking the silence in the room.

The girl raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “help with what?”

He goes to sit beside Sarah, pausing to take a breath before speaking again, voice shy but determined, “I want you to teach me how to embroider, please”

Sarah stares at her brother, surprised, before adopting a teasing smirk, “why? You want to make (Y/N) a gift?”

Davey straightens his back, becoming more resolved, “yes, actually. I wanna embroider a handkerchief for her”

“aww look at you being all sweet” Sarah teases, giggling as Davey throws her a look, his cheeks and ears tinged pink. “alright, alright, I’ll help you. Do you have an idea on the design?”

“yeah, I read some books on embroidery designs and took some inspiration from them,” he pulls out a scrap piece of paper from his pocket. It was littered with half-finished doodles of swirls, flowers, and stylized initials. One in particular looked finished, although the marks of repeatedly erased lines, replaced by bolder pencil strokes, were evident, “I also asked for some tips from Buttons and this is what I came up with” he says, angling the paper into Sarah’s sight and pointing at the finished design.

She takes the paper from him and looks at the design closely. (Y/N)’s initials were lined with swooping lines and foliage, some flower petals and leaves making up some of the letters’ structure, making them take on a pattern that was typical of the embroidery designs of the time but at the same time very personalized. Under the initials was a simple bouquet of leaves, vines and flowers, the vines curling around the letters in a circular pattern, effectively making a wreath, the flowers helping to add more detail.

Sarah makes a sound of approval as she finishes studying the sketch, “it might take some time to finish because you’re inexperienced, so I hope you’re not planning on giving it to her anytime soon.”

Davey nods, “I understand but I do want to give it to her as soon as possible”

Sarah smiles softly at him, “alright then, we better get started right away”

For the next few weeks, in his spare time, Davey learns the necessary stitches on a small piece of fabric with Sarah’s guidance. Eventually, their mother starts to help her daughter teach her son. When they deemed him ready, they instructed him to start on the actual handkerchief. Davey worked tirelessly, stitch after stitch, his fingers slowly being covered by bandages.

Weeks later, with the final stitch sewed on, Davey secures it and snips off the thread. In his hands lay the product of his efforts. His mother and sister sit with him, pride in their eyes as they watch him carefully pack the finished handkerchief into a small box and tying it with a ribbon, a smile on his face and excitement blazing in his eyes.

“Thank you, mom, Sarah, for the help, I really appreciate it” he says with a smile, placing a kiss on his mom’s head, “I’m heading out to the theater, I’ll be home later”

Grabbing the box, he leaves. As he heads to the theater, he thinks of what her reaction will be. He stops at the back entrance, nervousness filling his body. He shakes it off and enters, sending greetings to the staff he comes across as he walks to where he knew she’d be. The staff, already used to his presence in the theater at this point, greets him back.

Arriving at the sewing room, Davey knocks on the door, patiently waiting with his hands behind his back, hiding the present from her sight. A smile makes its way onto his face as she opens the door.

“Davey!” (Y/N) exclaims happily, “this is a pleasant surprise, I wasn’t expecting you, come in” she says after kissing his cheek, pulling him inside the room.

“Sorry for coming without warning but I wanted to give you this right away” he presents the box to her and opens it revealing the handkerchief.

She takes it out of the box with wide, wonder and joy-filled eyes, “did you make this?” she asks, looking at the embroidery closely, before looking up at him.

“Sarah and my mom taught me, but yeah I sewed all of it so some of the stitches are a bit crooked” he says sheepishly, “it’s not anywhere near what you can do but I tried my best”

“I love it and its beautiful Davey, thank you so much” she says before pulling him into a tight hug, her smile wide and her happiness palpable.

“I’m glad you like it” he replies, hugging her back as he mirrors her smile.

As they pull away, she glances at his hands. Taking a better look, (Y/N) frowns. Her gaze flits from his eyes to his hands, she makes a face full of understanding, knowing the pain all too well. Wordlessly, she kisses his bandage covered hands making his heart melt. Davey takes his hand away from hers and caresses her face as he smiles down at her. She winds her arms around his neck, leaning up and placing a kiss on his lips, one he immediately reciprocates.

“I love you” she whispers once they pull away.

“I love you too” he replies, his forehead resting on hers.

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Note: so this is a bit of a mix between livesies and 1992sies bc sarah but I was thinking of livesies!davey while writing. sorry if the characters are ooc, esp for davey and sarah. sorry if the ending was a bit flat, im still on a bit of a writing slump but i had some motivation to write and I didn’t wanna waste it. i was thinking of this being a side fic for the longer fic im still working on but it could still be its own thing. also I don’t know if i did the warnings right so if I could have done it better please let me know.

thanks for reading :>

#davey jacobs x reader #davey x reader #newsies live #newsies 1992 #davey jacobs #sarah jacobs #fluff #davey jacobs fluff #davey jacobs imagines #davey jacobs livesies

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write-and-wander · 1 year

Text

Touch: Chapter 4

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, and my version of Luke Skywalker's redemption

Word count: 3.9K

Author’s note: I got the fanfiction author's curse and went through hell, but I also received the fanfiction author's blessing of an iron-will to finish what I started. So, to those of you still reading, here you go. Also, this brings us to the halfway point of my outline, so yay!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Chapter 4: Love's Pain

Shrugging off the fog of waking up alone in a room that doesn’t belong to you, you gather yourself in the bathroom, giving your face a quick wash. What was last night? Did… did that really happen? How long did he stay? You sigh, checking over your appearance. I should get back to my room. I’m hungry.

You leave the guest room and head to your own quarters to get ready for the day, following your usual routine. Stepping out of the kitchen with breakfast in hand, you jump at the sight of an unexpected guest.

Kylo.

“Where did you go?” You didn’t hear him come in, but even in your surprise, your mind still sticks on the events from the night before.

“We need you in med bay,” he says flatly. His expression is hidden behind his mask- not that it would offer you anything.

“Kylo…” You plead softly, hoping that he would just talk to you. That’s all you wanted. To talk. Really, honestly, talk. Just to clear some things up. You start to walk towards him.

“Now,” he insists. Before you reach him, he fades from view. Another disappearing act. How does he keep doing that? With a frustrated huff, you turn back to your small dining room table, warm food still sitting on its plate. He can make demands all he wants, but breakfast comes first.

Though you’re tempted to push your luck for the sake of asserting your own independence, you still shovel the food in your mouth and leave your room as quickly as you’re able to.

Walking into med bay, you’re immediately overwhelmed, to say the least. Every droid in the room is tending to at least one trooper, with many more filling practically every open space the already-too-small bay has to offer. Even other staff people you’ve never met before are tending to the wounded- likely in response to a desperate call for anyone with medical experience. Amidst the chaos, with white, grey, and metallic figures filling the room, your eyes are drawn to the opposite side. A familiar tall, black figure stands in the doorway, watching you. Just as your eyes catch him, he turns and leaves without a word. You push down a mixture of emotions- anger, confusion, aching- and force yourself into work mode. There are people here, now, that need your help. You jump when a hand comes down onto your shoulder and turn to see Vilya.

“We’re glad you’re here,” she reassures, “you’re the best we’ve got.” You nod. At least someone cares.

With a deep breath and another quick scan of the room, you mentally triage the presently injured troopers and make a beeline for the one in the worst shape, relieving a droid of their work and sending them to another patient. Though each person here looks, at the very least, treatable, you know it’s going to be a long day.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

As you finally tend to the last minor wound and usher the final trooper out of med bay, you practically collapse onto the floor. The cots are full of resting troopers and personnel, with extra cots crammed into places they probably shouldn’t be. The droids can handle it from here, you figure. You’re not sure just how many hours you’ve spent in this room, but it’s enough to leave you utterly drained.

One droid comes over to you with a bottle of water. Thanking them, you finish it off and muster the will the stand. Your sore feet drag as they carry you back to your quarters. Though you nearly convince yourself to forgo it, you are in desperate need of a shower. After washing up, you throw on something comfortable, fill your grumbling stomach with food, and plop into your bed. The world quickly fades to black.

Waking up, you realize that you must have slept through any sort of alarm. It's hitting late afternoon by the time you come to consciousness. Your body still aches. As you get up and settle into what remains of the day, your mind walks through what you remember from yesterday, trying to process all that happened. You decide to take a moment to journal and get your bearings to reset med bay.

Unfortunately, your written walk-through immediately brings you to the situation with Kylo. The appearing and disappearing act followed by the cold shoulder leaves you wondering if the night you had spent together- assuming he was there for the entirety of it- had changed things for the worse. And this journal isn't helping with anything, you write. Maybe talking about it with someone will help? You stand and walk over to your door, which slides open after a moment. Vilya turns to you, faithfully standing guard just outside.

“Need something?” she asks, her tone cool in its neutral formality.

“Yeah,” you reply softly, “can you come in? I need someone to talk to.” Vilya nods and, after a quick visual sweep of the hall, follows you into your room. As the door seals shut, she sits beside you on your bed. She removes her helmet and sets it down, keeping it in her lap should someone else to come in. You wait for her to settle.

“What do you need to talk about?” she finally asks.

“Kylo,” you answer. Vilya’s expression changes, though you can’t exactly tell how.

“Okay,” she responds in a questioning tone, encouraging you to keep going.

“I just… don’t understand what’s going on. We finally figured out how to work together, but as soon as I start to settle, he flips a switch and we're back to square one. And while all of that is happening, something keeps drawing me to him. It’s hard to explain…”

“Try,” Vilya insists, her tone a little sharper than you had expected.

You take a deep breath. “We spent the night together once, and-”

“I’m sorry, you did what?” she snapped. Your eyes widened.

“No, not like that! We just- well, I just fell asleep in the same bed as he did. He was gone by morning- I doubt he even stayed the night.”

“That’s…” She takes a deep breath, reeling in her anger. “I think your captivity is getting to you," she begins, her tone cold, "you just need to get out more and get some distance-”

“No, Vy, it’s not that either. There’s something deep down in my mind- in my being- that constantly draws me to him, like we're bound to each other. Sometimes it's small, like I know what he’s going to say before he says it. But sometimes, it gets even more... strange.”

Vilya shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation at hand.

“Every once in a while, he just appears in front of me.”

“Well, he can be quiet when he wants to be.” she reasons.

“No, I mean I’ll just be going about my day, and suddenly, he’s there, right in front of me. I can see him, and hear him, clear as day. Sometimes he talks to me, sometimes I’m ignored... And then he's just gone.”

“What?”

“He disappears. He just vanishes in the blink of an eye.”

Vilya sighs, collecting her thoughts. He tone softens as she says your name in a lowered voice. “Honey,” she continues, “I’m… really worried about you. Have you been feeling okay? Have you had any other weird symptoms lately?”

“No, Vilya.” You stand and begin to pace the room. “He said something about the force bringing us together, and I-”

“-And you believe him?” she interjects in disbelief.

You stop pacing, looking at your friend helplessly. You say nothing.

“No,” she shakes her head, letting out an incredulous laugh, “no, you know that’s bantha shit. You can’t seriously believe that?”

“But I feel it!” You insist, your mind reeling. “Every waking moment, there's this voice telling me I need to be close to him. And then I go to sleep, and I have dreams about it. He's always there.”

“The asshole that ransacked your home, killed countless people you care about, kidnapped you, and forced you to work for him?” She starts to rant, her voice rising in volume. “The one throwing tantrums when things don’t go his way? Who kills his own without a second thought; who abandoned us?”

You freeze. “Us?”

Regret washes over her face.

“Who is ‘us,’ Vilya?”

She sighs, turning towards you. You see tears begin to well in her eyes. “His family. His friends.” She pauses. “I haven’t always been an innocent pilot. I got into a lot of shit way too early on, met a lot of the wrong people, and owed a lot of money I didn’t have,” she shakes her head, reliving a variety of unpleasant memories.

You look down to your fidgeting hands.

“A smuggler took me in. Helped me out, saved my life, became like a father to me. He told me about Kylo Ren; and even he had a fondness I found hard to forgive. It was messy all around, I’ll admit, but... it doesn’t change all the evil he's done.” She pauses again, watching you.

You meet her gaze.

“When I got older and paid all my debts, I wanted to hunt Ren down. Return a favor to the man who saved me, but... instead, someone he must’ve trusted a whole lot told him I should find you. So, that's what I did.”

You brows furrow together in confusion.

“We have never been friends by chance,” she admits, “I've dedicated my life to protecting you, taking care of you, making sure your naïveté wouldn’t get you killed like it did my overly-trusting parents.” Tears well up in her eyes.

You aren’t sure how to feel.

“Don't get me wrong, you've been my everything all along. Not just because you had to be, but... because I wanted you to be.”

“Vilya…”

She stands, walking up to you. She puts her hands on your arms, looking you straight in the eyes. “I can get you out of here. You have a ship now- that would buy us some time. We can take it somewhere untraceable, destroy it, and I can take you home. Wherever you want home to be. You and me.”

“Vy,” you whisper.

She knows your answer, but she continues to plead anyway. “We’ll go back to normal,” she insists. “I’ll keep taking care of you, you’ll keep taking care of other people. Ren can forget all about you and I’ll keep you safe in the meantime.”

“I can’t,” you manage, almost inaudibly.

Vilya steps back, searching for words. “Please,” she pleads, whispering your name, “I can’t stay here much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you stay, with him… I can’t protect you.”

“You can’t leave me now,” tears begin to fall down your face, “I didn't wanna push you away”

“No, you could never do that. It's just... pretty soon here, I won’t have a choice. I’ve nearly been found out twice now. I can’t risk it- they’ll kill me.”

“But-”

“I would give my life for you any day, you know that. All you would have to do is ask. But... if I die because of them,” she spats, pointing towards the door, “then I die failing to do the one thing Solo asked of me.”

You drop your face into your hands. It was like the rug was being pulled out from beneath you yet again. This can't be happening. Your one way out of here, back to the life you so desperately missed, was in direct competition with the one thing keeping you here.

Vilya stands, wiping her tears as she composes herself.

“I can’t make you leave,” she resolves, “I won’t do that to you.” Her tone is cool again. “But I can’t watch you lose yourself to madness. Not with him.” She moves to put her helmet back on.

“Vy, wait, please-”

“I still love you,” she says as she begins to walk out. She stops just before the door. “I always will. That’s why I can’t force you to leave,” she looks back to you. “If you really want to stay, then fine…” With a deep breath to collect herself, she steps forward, triggering the door to open. “I just hope it’s worth it,” she mutters. Stepping through, she faces forward. The closing door finalizes her departure.

All you can do is cry.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The next morning, after mentally preparing yourself for disappointment, Vilya was, indeed, gone. In her place was a taller, more broad-shouldered storm trooper. You take a deep breath and begin to walk to med bay. As expected, the trooper follows in silence, posting himself outside the door of your workplace.

You have a crisis to recover from, new supplies to order, and a whole lot of cleaning to do. A couple of troopers still remain in some cots, and droids are maintaining a close eye on their vitals while preparing various salves.

“How are they?” You ask softly, grabbing the attention of one of the droids.

“Stable as of this morning, Miss”

“Are they well enough to return to recovery bay?”

“If you would prefer, yes.”

“I have a lot of clean-up to do here, so, yes, please. Feel free to take some things with you if you need,” you add with a sweeping motion to the room.

“Understood.” The droids promptly gather a few things, setting it all on a cart to wheel alongside the cots, and clear out med bay.

Finally, you’re alone. And it’s quiet. And you can keep your hands and mind busy- or, at least try.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Over the course of the following weeks, you develop a new routine. Wake up, get ready, eat, head to med bay. Clean, organize, provide care, leave med bay. Eat, shower, sleep. Over and over again. With some days being slower than others, you even decide to pick up some side-projects, teaching yourself as much as you can about the medical droids here so you can develop better ones. You start to program in new medicines and practices- ones that had proven themselves effective during your time as a healer in Coruscant and Chandrila- so that the droids become increasingly self-sufficient. It’s all outside of your job description and area of expertise, but at least it will keep you working. Keep you out of your quarters. Keep you away from thinking about Vilya. More importantly, keep you away from Commander Ren.

Throughout those weeks, he stops by med bay to ask you a brief question or two, to which you respond with brief answers. The both of you can feel tension building each time you're away. Yet, you both continue to let it do so. Though you feel as if you can’t stand being away from him, you can also no longer stand being around him for too long. You can’t bear being reminded that, for reasons you can’t even begin to try to understand yourself, you had chosen your captor and Commander over your closest friend. The only person you have ever known that loves you. You, too, hope it will be worth it, somehow. Rage occasionally whispers in the periphery of your thoughts, but you know better than to entertain that anger. You know that you would easily lose yourself to it if you did. So instead, you lose yourself to your work.

And somehow, even that comes all too easy. In just a few weeks, you successfully apply every upgrade and make every tweak you can think of to the medical droids. They are now perfectly self-sufficient. They can make the call on diagnosis and treatment much faster than you can, and their work is all the more precise. Part of you worries that working yourself out of the equation could lead to your… disposal… but then again, the Commander insisted that he needed you. Which meant that Snoke likely insisted the same. So, you assume- with a generous helping of hope- that you’re safe.

Although your efforts to drown out your grief and loneliness work for a while, you in turn have ended up confining yourself to med bay for weeks on end without break. You had been in the same room, staring at the same things, going through the same routine every day. It had grown old, you're always exhausted, and it seems like you’re starting to run out of ways to avoid the Commander.

Maybe it’s finally time for a change in scenery.

During one of the slower hours of the day, you pack up some clothes and other personal items in a duffel bag you found in your closet. You leave your room and walk to the hangar, scanning carefully to ensure no one important would see you- or at least, make note of your leave. You slip between the spaceships to stop into Commander Ren’s personal ship. After a thorough look around, you feel confident that the coast is clear. You lift the seat you had assumed on your trip to Tatooine. Still sitting exactly where you left it was the ornate wooden box you discovered many weeks ago. You quickly slip it into your bag and close the seat, leaving everything exactly as you found it, before quietly making your way to your own ship.

As you take off, you glance back to see Commander Ren walk into the hangar.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Admittedly, landing on Coruscant doesn’t feel like the homecoming you had hoped for; but it does feel like an escape to a safe & familiar place, and that’s much better than playing avoid-the-Commander on the Finalizer. You hop off the ship and walk into your old home, which had been sitting empty for months now.

You expect it to feel stale, but, walking in, you realize that Vilya- wherever she is now- has still managed to maintain it while you were away. Seems like we both have our own special way of dealing with grief. It’s clean, and stocked with some food that could last for a while untouched. Part of you hopes that maybe this means you will see her again; that she’ll come visit or leave some kind of note for you. Searching the house, though, confirms that it was a false hope. Other than a surprisingly clean space, there's no sign of life here.

You walk through the rooms in your old home, retracing steps and reminiscing. Despite everything, it’s good to be home. Despite your confusion, your heartbreak, your dull melancholy, and your exhaustion, it’s so good to be home.

Night had fallen on Coruscant by the time you arrived. And your eyelids are heavy. So, to bed you go. For the first time in months, you awake without any memory of a dream.

You don’t immediately get out of bed that morning. Instead, you lie still, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts run circles in your mind. What’s next? How am I meant to continue onward? Months of searching, gaining relationships, breaking them, being held captive, and doing practically thankless work, with no end or resolution to anything in sight. There has to be a way out. Another way. You sit up the moment it hits you:

There is another way.

You stand and promptly walk towards your parents’ old room, grabbing something to eat on your way through the kitchen. Holding the food in your mouth, you kneel down in front of the back wall and pull out the panel. You take a bite, grabbing the food in one hand, while you pick up the pyramid with your other hand. It still looks foreign to you, but you feel like it’s important. It was one of the only things left behind by your parents. Is it a model of something bigger you’re meant to find? Is it a hot-and-cold sort of device that will blink or beep when you get closer to wherever you’re meant to go? Is it some kind of map of something else? You can’t quite tell, even when you look closer at the small green light glowing within it, but maybe it will guide you somehow. You bring it back with you to your room.

“I don’t know what you are,” you start, brushing off the voice that tells you it’s crazy to try to talk to an inanimate object, “and I guess this might not be an emergency, but… I need to go wherever you can take me.” Something within you thinks of Luke. Of the ornate wooden box. Of the contents inside of it. Of the vision you had seen on Tatooine. “I need to find Luke.” The pyramid seems to do nothing, but you feel something. Like a memory. Triumph, failure, running, fighting, hiding, stealing a map and finding a way to change it with only one person in mind, hoping to retire in the shadows for the safety of those who matter most.

Whether or not the pyramid actually works, you know where you're going- at least, the feeling in your gut does. You stand, finishing off the food you had grabbed and adding the pyramid to the mess of things thrown into your duffel bag.

Walking out to your ship, you remember seeing the tablet Commander Ren used to track you. He can’t know where I am. Not this time. With the bits of the First Order’s technology that you taught yourself over the past few weeks and a silent prayer to whomever or whatever might listen, you step into your ship, dropping your duffel bag on the floor, and begin searching for a tracking device. Continuing to follow the gut feeling that got you into this mess to begin with, you find a tracking device, blinking to indicate that it’s working, and get to work. In what could be a few minutes or an hour- you aren’t quite sure- you manage to remove the tracking device without breaking the connection and place it just inside of your home.

As far as the First Order would know, you are at home, on Coruscant.

You take off, and somehow, you’re confident that you know your destination. So, you go. And you keep going, until you land somewhere.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Though you seemingly have no way of knowing what you’re really looking for, you know the planet when you see it for the first time, like the trigger of an old, faint memory. From a distance, the blueish silver hue of the planet’s surface reminds you of Kamino. There aren’t as many storms, but there is probably about as much water. You pinpoint a spot on the planet that seems to stand out to you in familiarity and head for it, making for a quiet landing on the highest point of a beautifully green island.

Stepping out of your ship, you realize that the technology you brought here feels incredibly out of place. Small, winged creatures with white bellies, orange and brown fur, and big eyes greet you. You jump at the noise they let out. As they fly away, you look around to try to get your bearings. Remembering the things you brought with you, you pull out the wooden box you' have held 've been holding onto all this time. You turn back around, wooden box in hand, and suddenly realize someone else is here now.

An older man with long, salt-and-pepper hair and beard to match, stands at a distance in thick tan robes. You jump again, your heart now racing as you press your back against your ship. Taking a deep breath, attempting to collect yourself, you know that this must be the man you have been searching for. The man this box belongs to. Not that you recognize him- it’s just a feeling. With shaking arms, you hold the box out in front of you.

“This belongs to you.” Your voice betrays you, giving away your nervousness and forced confidence. You never expected to be here. You never thought you’d find Luke. You feel relief, hope, comfort, unease, and fear all at once.

Luke nods, wordless. You can’t quite read his expression, and yet, somehow it mirrors yours- but with an added note of fondness, as if your very presence reminds him of someone he really loved.

“I… I don’t think I know who I am,” you start, voice still shaking, shoulders finally relaxing as you allow yourself the luxury and freedom of brutal honesty for the first time, “and I don’t know who you are, but I think I was meant to find you- at least my parents must have believed that- and I was meant to give this to you.” Tears begin to well in your eyes as Luke slowly begins to walk towards you. “And I don’t know if you can help me, but I know that there are more people out there looking for you, and for some reason- that I hope you can figure out- I’m here first.”

He reaches you, taking the wooden box from your hands. He knows you- maybe even more than you know yourself. He knew why you were here before even a word ever came out of your mouth. His face says it all.

As his arms wrap around you, you feel a sense of home that you have never felt before in your memory. He holds you as you weep. You both sense that a new hope for redemption, in whatever form it will take, fills the air. Finally, he speaks.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

(Part 5)

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rosella-writes · 2 years

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I think it'd be adorable for Virelan to teach (or so she thinks) Solas how to fight, or, alternately, somft and heartwarming and maybe a little sad to reach Tulin. Either way, for dadwc: 9. “I’m going to teach you how to throw and take a punch. Here’s the first lesson.”

Is it adorable or is it tense or is it foreplay MAN I don't even know, but it's definitely pre-relationship and early on in Inquisition. Thank you, Blue 🥰

Pairing: Virelan Lavellan x Solas Rating: T for fisticuffs and flirting For @dadrunkwriting

~~~

“Tell me you know how to physically fight.”

Solas glanced up at Virelan across the flickering flames of their campfire. “Excuse me?”

The world was dark outside the ring of firelight, save for the pinpricks that were the stars, and Virelan was more moving darkness beyond — her eyes glinted, as did the flash of her teeth as she bared them in an unsettling smile. She set down the blade she scrubbed with an oiled rag and wiped her hands.

“Hand-to-hand, maybe? Have you had to clobber someone with that staff? Surely you don’t rely on magic always.”

The bitter taste of failure plucked at his throat, a reminder that to live without magic was once an unthinkable nightmare. “I’ve fought my fair share of fights, thank you.”

Virelan only chuckled at that, then took to her feet with a grunt. She rounded the fire and held out an expectant hand, and when he didn’t immediately take it she made grabbing motions with her fingers.

“Come on,” she chided. “Prove it. Spar with me.”

He glanced aside at Blackwall, who’d leaned against a nearby tree trunk and dozed fitfully. Cole was nowhere to be seen. “We shall disturb them.”

“Coward.”

His teeth clacked shut with the force of his irritation. “I beg your pardon?”

“Beg all you like,” she retorted with a sharp glint in her eye. “It’ll make you ready for the next templar who purges your barriers and shatters your staff. Plus I think it would sound pretty.”

He rose, ignoring her outstretched hand, and looked down on her much shorter form. While she was nearly as broad as he in the shoulder, and more viciously formed, he had the advantage of sheer height. He could see no reason to deny her this… not when she had so severely underestimated him.

“Teach me, then,” he murmured. “Hahren. If you deem me ignorant, correct me.”

Something sharp flitted across her features, and her upturned, scarred face twisted in a terrifying smile. “I’m going to teach you how to throw and take a punch, Solas. Here’s the first lesson.”

Her movement then was so rapid, he could barely track it with sight alone — there was the sound of her body cutting through the air, the sharp breath she took in through her nose, and the burnt scent of the ground as his warnings. Instinct closed his eyes against the grit of ash thrown into his face.

He knew better than to scrub at his eyes — he deflected her shove, blind, with a spat curse. She laughed in his face.

“Rule number one,” she chuckled, “fight dirty.”

Another curse slipped from his lips, and he managed to push off another shove while palming at his eyes. He dimly realised she was directing him away from the fire, based on the sensation of the growing cold around him. He blinked sight back into his eyes just in time to catch her fist on his upraised forearm, then another with a parry on the back of his hand — pain bloomed through the muscle into his bone.

“Ha!” she barked. “You’ve got down rolling with the strikes, looks like. On your right.”

He cursed her again, tucking his elbow close to his side in response to her jab — her knuckles were sharp, hard, merciless.

“Protect your liver, right,” she panted, breath washing over his collarbone, “hurts your arm now but you wouldn’t be breathing right if I got you there. Now hit me.”

Solas nearly balked — she didn’t give him a chance to deny her. She circled him, her bare footsteps light and her bare, muscled arms flicking out their tension with snaps of her wrists, a threatening grin still spreading across her face. She raised her arms as a barricade, and her eyes shone in challenge in the gap between her hands.

“Fenedhis,” he spat, then lunged forward.

Moving this way, magickless, was like sludging through waist deep mud. It felt as though he could hardly breathe. The strikes that once came so naturally to him were slow now, and despite his long reach she still dodged.

“Old man,” she laughed. “Old, creaky man. Try cutting up towards my chin.”

He didn’t want to. Even the frustration and anger coursing through him didn’t lead him to wish to harm her, but her command felt inexorable. And he had something to prove.

Solas crowded her back, landing a strike with his elbow against her ribs, then the heel of his hand on her sternum. Muscle memory carried him when even his mind forgot, and the recollection of it pounded hot through his veins. Her skin was warm, and her breath whooshed from her at the final strike of his hand — she caught at it, her calloused fingers cuffing his wrist and twisting at his arm.

“Lethallin,” she coughed, entrapping his arm between her two and prying at them until his elbow screamed at the stretch, “lethallin, lethallin, what will I do with you?”

He twisted to escape the arm lock, his other hand raking for leverage against her back. She just held him tighter — he could feel her laughter against his side as he dragged in deep breath after deep breath — and put out a leg between his and hooked to the side.

Virelan had strength, and a low center of gravity — her leverage on his arm and leg nearly pitched him over her back, turning his height and weight against him. It was only his most ancient, practised of lessons that turned a graceless landing in his favour. Rather than fall in a jumble, at her mercy, he twisted to catch his elbow against her chest and his knees on either side. The world lurched.

And Virelan Lavellan lay pinned beneath him, his forearm to her throat, his other arm locked to her side.

Her wide, dark eyes were angry, and the flash of her teeth could not be mistaken for a smile. “No, no I had you —” she wheezed.

Mischief drew the corners of his mouth and eyes into a self-satisfied smirk. He leaned forward over her, despite the screaming pain in his shoulder from how she wrenched at him, and let his whispered tease wash his breath over her face.

“You taught well, hahren. I fought dirty.”

#dadwc #fisticuffs #sparring #solas #solavellan #virelan x solas #virelan lavellan #my writing #dragon age #dragon age inquisition

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be-netz · 4 months

Text

it only makes sense that the concept evaluation episode opens with a flurry of brightly colored scenes, clips from the performances yet to appear as the editors reintroduce the viewer to NEXT GEN and do better playing in the background. a short recap of RHEE JIAN announcing the concept evaluation plays and the teams and coaches are displayed to the audience one by one. finally, when all of the refreshers are over and done with, the new content begins.

three judges take their seats at the usual table across from the stage. the room is quiet save for the few staff members milling around in preparation for the performances, the contestants somewhere backstage beyond their sight and safe from critique for now.

“SEO RAN,” YOON JIHUN is the first to speak to his fellow ceo, “it’s a little odd that we gave the contestants a concept evaluation but not a single one is performing a SR MEDIA group’s song. are you not confident in your own artists’ selections?” he grins slyly, perhaps trying to start something.

ran, to her credit, only smiles in return. “it’s a favor to the contestants, actually,” she clarifies, “our groups have such clear, well-defined concepts for most of their releases that it can be hard to separate the song from the music video or stage performances you remember and come up with something new. it wouldn’t be fair to try to judge them on something that’s difficult even for seasoned professionals. instead, we gave them songs that had a certain vibe, but not as set in stone in terms of memorable visuals and creative direction. it’s almost a blank canvas for them to work on, in a sense.”

“i understand what you mean,” YUNA nods along. “no matter how good you are, people will always compare you to the original when you’re performing a cover. the more beloved a song is, the harder it is for anyone else to do it justice.”

“exactly. not that any of these songs aren’t great tunes in their own right, but they’re easier to handle than A.MAZE or WONDERLAND,” ran confirms.

“so why organize the groups the way we did?” jihun is clearly reading off a cue card, moving the conversation forward in the way the writers and editors want them to.

“well, some of them are obvious,” ran flips through cards with each contestant’s face printed on them, laying them out on the desk in front of them. “JUEUN, for example, has excellent confidence on stage that makes her look like she’s having fun no matter what she’s performing. the cute and bright concept leans well into that. and SIWOO is just clearly born for the elegant concept. STEVEN, on the other hand, probably would have suited the cute concept as well but i think he needs to be challenged more than someone like siwoo does and he has potential for other concepts in him as well.”

“when we’re putting together a group, they’re very rarely doing one concept for their entire careers,” jihun points out.

“exactly, which is why some contestants needed to be introduced to a different facet of themselves,” ran smiles. “we may be surprised by some of them.”

“are we ready to begin?” a voice from the production staff calls out, and the judges collect their contestant cards to save for rankings later.

a scene of all teams are gathered up on stage around emcee jian plays before fading into the first practice room scenes.

"the judges told us how modifying the choreography could express the storyline we're attempting to tell better," YUWOL muses aloud to HANGYEOL as the NONSTOP team begins preparations for their first performance together. "but to be honest, i'm not the best when it comes to that."

“that’s why i’m here!” hangyeol assures his teammate. and who would dare to doubt the shining star of the season? hangyeol’s confidence is nowhere near unfounded; perhaps his teammates feel better just having him and his good luck nearby. maybe it would be easy to dislike him out of jealousy or resentment, but the man has a rather cute disposition, throwing his hands in the air exuberantly as he volunteers his help to the team.

after a moment of stretching, hangyeol stands and walks over to the sound system while explaining his ideology to yuwol. ““the first step is to find what’s special and unique about the way your own body moves. we’re in a carnival, right? so let’s move through the room as if it is a carnival, but then take everything you do and heighten it by, like, thirty percent!”

“i’ve never been to a carnival before,” yuwol confesses and a record scratch is played as hangyeol’s jaw drops.

“really? never?! yuwol! we have to change that!” it doesn’t deter hangyeol though, who effortlessly links his arm through yuwol’s as if guiding him through an imaginary carnival in the practice room. “i just think everyone should get the chance to ride a ferris wheel and eat cotton candy at least once in their lives! next time there’s a carnival in seoul, i’ll have to take you. how does that sound?”

“pretend you’re surrounded by all sorts of lights, and colors, and smells. and you have all day to experience every single one with the person you care about the most,” hangyeol continues, describing the event in detail in lieu of yuwol’s personal experiences with one. “i know it might seem a little absurd at first, but trust me, it’ll help.”

“i struggled with dance at first, but… nowadays, it’s actually rather fun,” yuwol explains in the interview room, his scene with hangyeol cut short by his own words. “actually, coming up with ideas for the stage was also exciting. these are all rather new to me, so i’m surprised at myself too. that i’m able to enjoy the process this much.”

looks like that isn’t the only new thing being done. the scene shifts, showing yuwol and jueun in front of one of the training room mirrors. jueun makes a face, puffing her cheeks, confident in her cuteness; coming off natural. "come on, i want you to look in the mirror with me and pretend like you're on a date and trying to make your partner smile or something,” she tells yuwol, who seems to be having a harder time making the same facial expressions.

yuwol hums, seeming to be in thought. eventually, like jueun had done earlier, yuwol puffs his cheeks, pouting, imitating his teammate. it’s his first attempt, that’s for sure. “okay… how was that?”

jueun giggles in turn. “well, it’s definitely better than what you were doing before,” jueun approves.

“how did you feel when you saw that your ranking had dropped so much?” a disembodied voice asks jueun, now the only focus of the camera in the interview room. “i knew it could happen at any moment, since this is a competition show, after all. however, i was still a little shocked. however, it motivated me to work even harder to show the judges that i still had a lot more to show them.”

what is it that she’s eager to show the judges? this time, jueun and hangyeol are back on screen, going over their rap lines together. “look at us being the main rappers of the group,” jueun says, nudging hangyeol’s side with her elbow. hangyeol seems to share the enthusiasm, not without expressing some of his struggles.

“why does this feel like it’s harder than singing?” hangyeol questions, although the pair continue to work on their lines. "the professionals make it look so effortless. and here i am, sounding like i'm about to perform a hip-hop remix of the three bears." hangyeol sounds rather distraught, but jueun remains positive still.

“it will not sound like a hip-hop remix of the three bears,” she reassures her companion. “"i've been tapping my pen along to the beat to make sure i don't fall behind since the rhythm seems to be the most important thing in a rap," jueun suggests as a method of practice.

that seems to give hangyeol some sort of epiphany. “oh! I’ve seen something online- thisth-” hangyeol takes his own pen and sets it firmly between his teeth, “this is supposedsh to help with your pronunshiation.” it’s a rather comedic scenario, the camera lingering on hangyeol’s hilarious display for added effect.

most of the team members seem to be new to rapping as a whole. JINGREN is pictured practicing his lines with jueun as well, despite having lesser rapping verses. "it's a safe place here. did you want to practice the rap parts with me? so that we can get comfortable before the song before we split up the lines so that we can take any part that we possibly get,” jingren suggests, motivated to work on a new skill. “i am willing to give rap a try, especially since it seems like i haven't quite found my direction with something specific yet."

“how about we listen to the original a few times on repeat first so we get the basic rhythm down?” jueun says in turn, eager to start rehearsing as well.

“i really didn't know if i had it in me to rap, but i was willing to try,” jingren’s voiceover from his interview plays over the scene of the two practicing their lines. “the song had quite a few rap parts, and while it was divided between a few of us, i'd never rapped before other than during karaoke."

“guess we will all have to pick up some slack since i don’t think anyone in our group is particularly a fantastic rapper. but it’s not possible to cut these key parts of the song out,” jingren summarizes, determined.

despite all the hardwork the team is displaying, there’s a few shared moments where they can breathe and relax. YEJUN is seen approaching hangyeol. “congratulations!” yejun exclaims, a tender smile on his face. “i know we barely have any time for it, but your second first place should be celebrated. i’ll do something better if you get a hat trick.” the moment is sweet, cute and bright, funnily enough a contender for the concept the team had been assigned. yejun is handing something over to hangyeol, presumably a congratulatory gift.

hangyeol seems to appreciate the gesture, expressing his gratitude from the way he takes the vitamin drink and bowing slightly. “thank you, yejun. that’s so kind. i only feel like i have to work…even harder now. maybe even harder than before. i’m afraid one of these days i may run out of ‘hard’ to work.”

yejun rebuts that, almost immediately. "you deserve this, you're amazing,” he reassures, notably gentle. “i’ll be your voice teacher if you be my dance teacher,” yejun adds, not forgetting what they’re here for.

“you’re too nice to me, hwang yejun,” hangyeol tells the other off lightly, although it’s obvious he doesn’t mean it. “but it’s a deal.”

overall, the team seem to be working well together, working on what they know they lack. but where are the coaches?

the scene changes again, this time showing DOHYUN and yuwol separated by a makeshift desk. dohyun is holding a camera directed at the contestant as he is practicing something, a little bit lost in thought. a short clip plays taken from the previous episodes, where jihun had snapped: “i’ve never been more humiliated by a studio delta team in my life.” that, of course, referencing dohyun’s team at the time. is that what dohyun has been thinking about?

“and, like that. that’s what i had in mind… what do you think?” yuwol asks, which seems to bring dohyun out of his haze. the audience doesn’t get to see what exactly yuwol is asking dohyun’s opinion for, that will be saved for the performance later. but whatever it was, dohyun is reacting positively.

“i think.. you’re going to end up with a million new fans and a million other grandmothers wanting you as a grandson- i would call that a success,” dohyun replies as he ends the recording, encouraging and supportive.

“do you have faith in us?” yuwol asks next, and the frame closes in on dohyun’s face, searching for a specific reaction. as if implying, would the same unfortunate occurrence happen again with dohyun’s new team? that unasked question doesn’t receive an answer.

“you were at the mercy of the teams we gave you,” jihun’s voice can be heard once more, playing as the screen zeroes in on dohyun’s face. will this time be different? perhaps, there is a glimmer of hope. there is no verbal answer from dohyun at this time, however.

maybe that answer will show itself in the team’s performance.

the team of five enter the stage wearing matching outfits of a pastel color scheme, showcasing a certain theme. while the stage is still dimly lit, it can be seen that certain corners of the stage have different mini sets, keeping the audience guessing what they could be. but then the set fades away, the camera is instead being greeted by jingren’s face as the music begins.

the lens pans down, showing jingren’s hand linked with the cameraman’s—or in this case, the audience—and leading them towards the stage. jingren’s smile is beaming, taking the audience towards the set, which seems to be a mini carnival with booths and DIY date spots.

the other three have already taken their positions, and the performance begins.

it becomes apparent that the team will be moving across the mini sets, having their own date moment with the camera (a.k.a the audience who are watching). yejun’s is up next, seemingly going through an array of mirrors. the camera ‘trips’, but yejun is quick to rush over to his date, concerned as he helps his date regain their feet. the singing goes on, yejun hitting his notes despite multitasking with his acting. even adds a sigh of relief when he notices his date is okay, pointing to a mirror with a laugh.

as one person gets the spotlight, the others become supporting characters. even though they’re moving from set to set, they maintain the same flare of choreography, modified to fit their elaborate stage.

as yuwol’s rap verse approaches, the camera shifts to a different point of view, carefully taken to another set. this time, it’s a wooden stand colored pink with the sign ‘kissing booth’ plastered on top. the contestant on the other side of the booth is yuwol. he’s holding a lip balm, uncapping it as the audience continues to watch. yuwol acts nervous with the way he bites his lip and steals glances at the camera. using his finger, he swipes the lip balm on his own lips before pretending to apply it onto his date’s. he doesn’t kiss his date though, despite the name of the booth, he lifts his face up and allows it to disappear out of frame, leaving the audience to wonder what exactly yuwol had done. either way, he’s giggling as if he’s teasing.

the song continues on, the team returning back to formation as they move towards the next set: hangyeol’s. he’d be delivering this scene along with his rap verse too. his moment is centered around a snack booth, hangyeol leading the camera towards the booth. a cake is then served which hangyeol takes advantage of, taking a forkful of whipped cream and holding it up to the lens mischievously, acting flirtatious. some of that whipped cream remains on the tip of his nose, followed by a finger coming from behind the camera to wipe the whipped cream away. the scene ends with hangyeol’s blush.

the last individual moment of the stage focuses on a faux photobooth, which is jueun’s time to shine. jueun pulls off a few poses alongside the camera, as if she’s actually taking photos, singing her lines accordingly all the while. it’s a cute and intimate moment, jueun being playful with her company. that is, until the rest of the team ‘photobombos’ the photos and poses with jueun and her date.

“i’d just like to say that i gave it my all, and this was all really fun,” jueun’s voice from the interview room plays as the camera focuses on the group, all with smiles on their faces.

the performance goes on, and with jueun taking charge of the last line, she gives the camera a nice wink for her ending pose.

a round of applause can be heard from the judges, before the contestants get ready for their critique.

ran is the first to pick up her microphone; this is her company’s challenge after all. “first, i want to congratulate you all on a successful performance. i could feel your earnesty in trying to put on a unique, memorable performance and i want to be sure you all know that your efforts didn’t go unnoticed. you were the only team without a representative from sr media helping you, so please know we’ll take that into account as we review this stage.”

“as a whole, it was a very charming performance,” ran continues to smile. “it was sweet how you were able to highlight each member of your team and stay within the theme you chose. however, i don’t think it was very far off from the original performance and came off a bit… amateur-ish? which i suppose is to be expected, especially since you lacked guidance.”

she seems to shoot a look at DOHYUN and SEOJUN, who were notably absent from the preparation clips. however, neither trainee being from her company, she decides to simply let it be.

yuna takes over instead: “while concepts and acting may be sr media’s specialty, lime entertainment also dabbles quite a bit in using stages and storylines to enhance our performances. i’m surprised that seojun didn’t take a more active part in helping to plan your performance. coaches, please remember that it’s your responsibility to support our contestants. we may not be able to eliminate you from the competition, but these contestants are your responsibility. please do not take it lightly.”

the woman sighs before continuing on: “in any case, i do have to agree with ran. the performance was cute and charming, but seemed a bit disorganized at times. like you were trying to fit too much into a short time. it’s easy to let ideas get ahead of you, but it should have been on your coaches to help rein them in and refine them.”

“dohyun, you’re not going to regain my favor by disappearing into the background. you’re still representing studio delta in a competition, so i expect to see a little more effort from you in the final round.” yoon jihun crosses his arms and scowls unhappily. he may not be shouting with the same rancor as he had the previous round, but his disappointment is palpable. “nonstop team, you did well to support yourselves despite the lack of effort from your coaches. i feel like that should be praised more than yuna and ran have mentioned so far; you’re all just beginners, babies really. you had to learn how to walk on your own while everyone else was getting better support. i want to commend you for your effort; you did well with the resources provided.”

“and HANGYEOL,” jihun continues, now moving onto individual critiques, “it was rather brave of you to take on so many rap parts when it seems to be a relatively new skill to you. you’re a great performer so you were able to pull it off decently enough, but it was clear that it’s really not your strongest talent. i can’t quite say you let your team down, but i don’t think you did them any favors.”

“you helped your team with the choreography changes, right?” yuna pipes up, “once again, you’re showing us that you’re an excellent leader. leveraging your talents with the areas your team needs to improve was good. you’re a great dancer, we’re frankly running out of ways to say that, but you’re also a good teacher which is much harder to find in a show like this.”

“i think we did well to put you in this concept,” ran smiles warmly, clearly harboring a soft spot for this particular contestant. “you have a lovely smile, you know. your stage presence is strong enough that even with simple choreography, you still shine. you adapt well to different concepts and that’s something we look for at sr media; being able to be a diverse performer as well.”

“great job, hangyeol,” jihun congratulates the contestant once more before the judges fix their attention on the next member of the team, YUWOL’s face taking over the screen.

“i’ll admit, i didn’t have very high expectations for you with this concept,” jihun begins again, his frown more contemplative than antagonistic for once. “you’re a bit… well, you were put in this team since we didn’t think anything else would suit you very well. you surprised us, yuwol. who knew you had it in you? maybe you should consider acting as a career.” the man laughs.

“jihun is laughing, but i would genuinely suggest the same thing,” ran takes over. “you performed your part well and we could tell that you put a particular amount of effort into selling this concept. half of the road to success is hard work and practice and you certainly gave your best effort with this challenge. honestly, i’m almost sorry that we won’t be seeing this stage ever again. you did well.”

yuna picks up her microphone next, her expression a bit complicated. “i agree with jihun and ran that you performed this concept beyond our expectations, however i want to caution you to not neglect your performance skills as well. you’re still a bit awkward when you’re dancing simple steps. at this point in the competition, i’d like to see a little more improvement in that area. your voice is nice, but i want to warn you not to neglect your fundamentals and fall into the habit of relying on stylization instead of basic ability. overall, you gave us a good performance. but as we reach the end of this competition, you would do better if you tried to be great.”

“thank you, yuwol,” ran finishes the feedback before turning to the next contestant.

YEJUN is the next focus of the judges who waste no time in giving him feedback.

“are you getting more comfortable, yejun?” jihun asks, “you’re not trembling on stage this time. i think it’s the first time we’ve seen you actually smile.” is that teasing in the harsh judge’s voice? the camera zooms into jihun’s face, which actually has a smile on it, before panning to yejun’s expression in return. “if all it took was asking you to act cute, we would have done that ages ago. you seem harder on yourself than even i would be, so i don’t think i can tell you anything about your performance that you don’t already know. i just hope that you don’t lose this spark, whatever it is.”

“is that a compliment from jihun?” ran’s eyes widen in mock-surprise, a wide smile on her face. “in any case, i have to agree that you looked much more at ease, like you were actually enjoying the performance this time. you played cute pretty well, i think you have a good face for the concept overall, but when you’re able to smile you really light up the stage. did it help to have friends on your team this time? while it’s important to be able to get along with whoever is on your future teams or debut units, having familiar faces can help ease a transition. i’m glad we were able to unlock a new side of you with this performance.”

yuna smiles as well. “you’re a talented singer, yejun,” she points out, “and you’re becoming a better performer too throughout this show. it’s been a genuine pleasure to watch your growth. singing is something you love, right?” the camera turns to yejun again for his response. “me too. it’s that passion that got me to debut, and then to all the success i’ve had since then. i hope you’re able to hold onto that through the rest of next gen and whatever comes after.” yuna smiles once more before the camera abandons yejun for now.

“i’d like to point out how JUEUN shined on this stage,” ran beams brightly as she compliments the girl, “your confidence on stage was almost unmatched and this concept suits you almost perfectly. honestly, i don’t even have much to say since there’s hardly anything to critique this time.”

“i wouldn’t say that,” jihun disagrees; of course he would always be able to find something negative even among an overwhelmingly positive situation. “if anything, i would just caution you to be mindful of your groupmates. you were just on the edge of out-performing half of this team, which is good for you in this competition but if you debut in a group someday, being able to work seamlessly together will be important. it could also make your teammates look worse than they actually are and put you at risk for elimination, if you’re not careful. but like ran said, this concept suited you well. you’ll probably be fine.”

yuna ponders over her response for a moment before finally speaking up. “you said that you’d work harder and you had more to show us. talk is fine, but what i’m most impressed with is that you actually put your money where your mouth is, so to speak. you put on an amazing performance that made us all regret dropping you down in the ranks last week, if the other judges agree?” yuna looks over at ran and jihun, who both nod their confirmation of the statement. “well done. it’s no easy feat to do exactly what was promised when it comes to performances like this.”

“JINGREN,” yuna turns her attention to the next contestant, “it was… brave of you to attempt to learn to rap in just a few days of practice. the parts you were assigned weren’t particularly difficult so you were able to pull it off, but i can’t help but think it’s a bit of a shame… you were awkward and it showed to the point it took away from the entire group’s performance. i think that’s why it came across as amateur-ish in some parts, because you didn’t have the ability to sell the performance with confidence.”

“you’re in a team of talented performers this time, jingren,” ran continues, her voice soft and kind despite the criticism coming from her lips. “unfortunately, that can make it even harder to stand out as a performer yourself. i think you did well with the concept overall, you were rather cute, but as yuna said… your performance skills weren’t up to par with the parts you chose.”

“jingren, i’ll be honest with you,” jihun sits forward in his seat, leaning against the table with a rather grim expression on his face. “if nonstop team doesn’t win this battle, you’re likely to be the member we eliminate. the competition is too tight at this point to be too forgiving with poor performance skills. if you’re a singer, you should sing. why try to pick up rap at this point? it was poor strategy that, again, should have been caught by your coaches. if you have to blame someone for this, blame them.”

the camera zooms in closely on jingren’s expression before the entire team is dismissed from the stage, jian’s bright smile taking over as she announces the next performance will be PUZZLE.

as the PUZZLE team prepares for their stage, the scene shifts to the individual who has been told would embody this elegant and sexy concept the most. SIWOO is seen… practicing how to put a tie on? strangely enough, instead of attempting it on himself, he’s doing so around JIHYUN’s neck instead. unlike the previous team’s harmonious chemistry, there seems to be a more tense air between these two. the contrast is made evident.

“do you know how to be elegant?” siwoo asks, not without what seems to be annoyance.

“i’ve taken etiquette lessons as a child, so elegance should come naturally to me,” jihyun answers, somewhat unfazed despite how long siwoo is taking to put on the tie.

“you needed lessons to learn etiquette?” the question slips out of siwoo as if it’s a challenge, or a pointed and directed attack, as subtle as it may be. what has siwoo so bothered? could it be because of their similar circumstances and background?

it looks like siwoo isn’t the only one feeling rather irritated, because it cuts to jihyun speaking in a manner that’s different than his usual self, as if provoking the other. “tell me more about it, partner in crime. siwoo-ya~?”

the scene remains unresolved, instead switching to siwoo in the interview room. “it seemed like you had some sort of tension with jihyun?” the same disembodied voice asks.

siwoo doesn’t seem to respond much at all, and there seems to be a glimpse of displeasure in his face as the name is brought up. “ah…” is all he says, before the scene changes once more to jihyun in the interview room.

“we were happily bantering with each other. siwoo is kinda fun to tease. we were forced to hold hands at some point to get along… but i dont think it’s that big of a conflict?” jihyun answers instead of siwoo, but not giving a lot of explanation for what had transpired.

thankfully, the other teammates seem to be getting along well. HYUNKI and TOUMA are tasked to edit the choreography to suit the concept they have in mind. hyunki is sitting on the floor. “two teams,” hyunki mentions as he nods—what could that mean? is this team being split into two? no answer is given at this time, instead hyunki continues on. “almost like a battle? we could have moments where we change the formations… angled to face each other, but still be looking towards the judges?”

touma is quick to agree, grinning at his teammate. these two working well together, different from the pair before. “yeah, that’s a good pitch! and the battle commencing would be the best time to finally combine the teams and make one formation. SEIRA could be in the center, and that’s when the reveal happens?” the reveal mentioned is never explained in detail, leaving the audience with a moment of anticipation for what this team had cooked up.

hyunki takes up what he and touma came up with to CHAERIN. “if i’m understanding correctly, you’re saying the formation for this part will be different from the original because of the storyline you’ve created, right?” chaerin asks for confirmation, tablet in hand.

“that’s exactly right, adjusting some of the dance seemed like a great way to help highlight the idea of their being these two separate factions within the group.” hyunki seems confident, but open to feedback from someone clearly more experienced.

“i understand the point of it, but i think you should keep in mind that it may be hard to catch your breath if you’re moving around the stage too much,” chaerin verbalizes her concerns, which hyunki takes in stride.

“touma and i practiced it some with the two of us, and it was alright, but i can see how it might be difficult with the full team. it would be an easy fix though! but thank you for the feedback on this,” hyunki responds, happy to accommodate his coach’s feedback. whether they managed to rework the choreography to satisfy chaerin’s expectations is unclear, though. there’s an underlying concern whether the team can manage the demanding choreography.

perhaps the audience is concerned now, as the camera switches to seira and siwoo, who had struggled with dancing in previous episodes. the two of them are seen practicing together. surprisingly, in spite of seira’s lack of confidence in her dance skills before, she’s giving her teammate advice. “for that part, it looks like you’re not moving your arms fast enough?” she remarks. “you’re having great facial expressions though, and you fit the vibe well, i might have you help me with facial expressions.”

that advice seems to work for siwoo, repeating the steps according to seira’s feedback. “thanks seira,” he smiles. “for facial expressions, i think about how no one else can pull off looking like me… but me.”

“so… i should just act really confident?” she asks with her head tilted. that seems to be the theme surrounding seira for this episode, because in the next scene she is asking NAYOUNG something related to her confidence as well.

“how do you seem so confident when you perform?”seira asks as she’s stuffing a riceball into her mouth, with her coach in front of her. “it always looks like i lack confidence…” she expresses, clearly worried.

“i think confidence comes with practice,” nayoung says, providing guidance. “if you don’t feel confident, you can think of it like…playing the role of someone confident. it’s also helpful to just…pretend to be confident to yourself, too.”

as seira takes a bite out of her kimbap, she follows up with another question. “if i pretend to be confident enough, will i eventually turn confident?”

instead of that question being answered by nayoung, it cuts to nayoung in the interview room. “did you have any worries giving seira such a large role, considering she’s currently ranked last?” the mysterious interviewer questions, although it isn’t expanded on what exactly seira’s role is, leaving suspense for the performance later on.

“we realize it’s a risk, but chaerin and i were in agreement that seira deserved the opportunity to prove she’s better than the rank she received. she, and everyone else, worked really hard. i hope those efforts are evident in the performance, and that the judges can see it.” nayoung speaks realistically and to the point, simultaneously invested in her team’s growth but also coming off professional, able to separate emotions from work. perhaps it’s a trait others would appreciate in a coach.

and just what does seira do with this significant role of hers, propelling her to the center of the storyline?

with a seed of doubt planted, it cuts once more to a montage of seira struggling with the concept itself alongside different teammates: with ARA she says, “for this part, could you help me with facial expressions?” to jihyun she says, “the concept, it’s one i’ve never done before, so i’m a bit unsure about my facial expressions, maybe you could help with that?” to hyunki she says, “for this part, would it fit better if i tried to look serious or sexy?” to touma she says, “i’ve never really done a concept like this before.”

can seira live up to her coaches’ expectations?

for now, it focuses on the first scene, showing a clip of seira and ara practicing together, lighthearted and eager to improve. “why not let me take a breather, and i’ll watch you run through this part and i can give you a few tips?” ara proposes, resting against the mirror.

“look for the small things too, they’re also important,” seira requests with a giggle.

ara’s voice can be heard as the pair continue with their practice. “while helping seira with expressions and dance, it also helped me out greatly too. it is true what they say, that teaching something is also one of the best methods of knowing your own material.”

when it comes to workshopping characters, ara and hyunki seem to be having a blast discussing them. “i think i might want to go the angle of a little sneaky myself, a bit mysterious and lurking myself, in some movements if possible,” ara tells her teammate, clearly having put a lot of thought into who she will be portraying. “have you gotten close to finalizing what you want to do for your character?”

“i think so, not that you’ll know much about my character, seeing as you’ll never catch me,” hyunki teases, dropping hints to the audience what character dynamics would be at play on stage.

ara is also working with jihyun when it comes to perfecting dynamics on stage. “do you want this? why don’t you come get it and be lured in by my trap?” jihyun provokes his teammate, holding a phone to his chest like it’s a precious item.

“i won’t perish in your trap… even if it is tempting to get caught up in the lure,” ara replies with determination. it seems the members are enjoying themselves when it comes to the process of building their characters.

but not everyone is breezing through this. touma is seen with jihyun, seeking his fellow contestant for a reason. “you’re all about elegance and… sexiness. any tips on how to… be both of those things on stage?”

it looks like jihyun almost laughs, but doesn’t. instead, jihyun starts explaining by taking touma’s hand. “everyone perceives sexiness differently. play it cool, know how to gaze into their eyes and then smile at the right moment” jihyun gently traces a finger across touma’s palm. “when you do this quickly, it’s not sexy at all… but when you do it slowly, you’re bound to feel something tingly.” that seems to make something click in touma. just like jihyun had flustered stevie in the previous episode—a clip in the corner shows stevie’s reaction from episode three once again as this scene unfolds—jihyun had succeeded in flustering touma as well.

touma seems to be whispering something into jihyun’s ear afterwards, but nothing can be inferred from that short conversation. whatever it was, it got jihyun to laugh; completely different from his interaction with siwoo.

even with his confidence when it came to teaching touma about the vibes of the concept, jihyun isn’t without his own qualms. he seems confused, at wits end even, as he’s seeking some sort of clarity from nayoung. “is there something in me that isn’t shining like the others?” it’s a heavy question, albeit slightly cryptic.

nayoung keeps it honest and blunt, like always. “i think you're a little bit forgettable right now. you just really need to look at it as your time to shine. for now...just perform like it's the last chance you'll get to. hopefully it's not, but if it was, you'd want to give it everything you have and make sure you leave everyone something to remember you by.”

nayoung isn’t just working with jihyun, though. the scene briefly cuts to her working with siwoo, rubbing his shoulders with what seems to be newfound determination, a refreshing state of siwoo’s considering his previously lacking attitude and motivation. “our team has good dancers… i don’t want to fade into the background.” is he finally taking this competition seriously?

“their main issue, in my opinion, is mostly just…believing they’re capable, opposed to their actual skills.” nayoung’s voice is heard as her scenes with the two boys play. “ i think they lacked most when it came to confidence. all of that to say, by the time performance day came, i had the utmost confidence in them.”

chaerin is now the focus of the interview room. “i have personally seen each and every one of you do your best for this performance.” a short clips cuts in, showing chaerin working with touma and siwoo on their singing. “even if things don’t work out exactly how you want it to, just know that somebody knows that you have put your all into it.” she does a little fighting gesture, chuckling.

with each team member working desperately on what they lack, eager to prove themselves to the judges and climb the ranks—how will this performance fare?

there’s no need to wait any longer, as the team members ready themselves for their performance. but instead of opening with the faces of all the contestants, it starts with three of the contestants staring at a makeshift police board, analyzing. touma, ara and seira have taken the role of detectives, which means the other three (siwoo, hyunki, jihyun) have been appointed criminals.

“when we were contemplating the elegant and sexy concept and how it worked with the song itself, we all pretty quickly decided on the idea of criminals and detectives, with one of the detectives actually being another criminal.” hyunki’s voice can be heard as the performance continues, explaining the concept. “we wanted to play with the lyrics that speak about solving puzzle. so the criminals are art thieves who stole a piece of puzzle art, and are leaving small clues along the way for the detectives to follow. they also are confused because the criminals leave the playing cards as a calling card, one for each suit, but they don’t know which criminal represents the diamond, until the end,” he explained, referencing to seira’s reveal.”

the detectives are the only ones visible on stage for the moment, looking at pictures of several art pieces along with images of the three known criminals decorated with their card suits. however, there is one card suit with no corresponding criminal. this seems to be important, but before the audience can start speculating the detectives begin their routine, with seira’s lines being the opener.

so this is the division of teams that hyunki had mentioned, it’s also clear that they’ve included a modified version of the choreography. one that gives the vision of chasing and dodging, a game of cat and mouse. there’s a certain ‘catch me if you can’ aura throughout this performance, with jihyun provoking touma through glances and gestures, as well as siwoo’s eyes finding the camera with a teasing smile, as if daring the audience to look for him. hyunki, too, continued to escape the detective’s grasp. the three criminals remain cocky and confident.

siwoo is seen with the rest of the criminals on the other side of the stage, dropping a large puzzle piece that seems to be taken in as evidence. once siwoo’s first verse closes, the six members come together for a complete formation. this must be the battle that hyunki and touma had discussed prior, where the detectives and criminals are facing one another. a few more puzzle pieces are dropped for the detectives to find, and the song continues on.

at jihyun’s climatic line, the bgm starts to fade out and the puzzle is once again highlighted, the object of the crime. there are two puzzle pieces missing. in this moment, seira takes her detective jacket off and reveals her a diamond attached to her outfit, putting the missing pieces into the puzzle—which is one of the next gen logo. with this, it is concluded that seira had been an undercover criminal this entire time, which must be what nayoung had been referring to during her interview.

the formation returns to six once more, everyone performing the last chorus completed with jihyun’s adlibs. it’s a dramatic scene of triumph and betrayal, a neat closure to a tense storyline.

after applause dies down, the team gathers themselves for their critique.

“did you know that i love crime shows?” ran’s smile is wide as she prepares to review puzzle team’s performance. “so this concept was a real treat for me! you pulled off the detective and criminal concept elegantly, which can be difficult to do considering it’s so easily confused with the children’s game. and tying the title of the song, ‘puzzle’, into your performance by leaving puzzles and clues for the detectives to follow… it was a very nice touch. whose idea was that? nayoung, did you help with that?” ran asks her trainee, clearly approving regardless of who takes credit. “and the grand reveal at the end… oh, i just love it. i felt like i was watching a movie, it was fantastic.”

“where nonstop team came across as a high school theatre performance, puzzle team looked more prepared for broadway,” jihun points out, “nothing against the production value our stage teams put together, and maybe the concepts themselves lent to the difference, but there was clearly more refinement from this team. having an active representative from sr media no doubt helped your performance, which nonstop team also lacked. ah, it’s a shame that we only have one team to compare with, so far,” he sighs, “but you certainly sold us elegance and sexiness.”

yuna sits forward in her seat a bit before delivering her first round of critique of this team. “conceptually, it wasn’t that different from A.MAZE’s sherlock,” yuna points out, the creativity not totally as unique as the others seemed to make it out to be. “but you added new layers to the story that weren’t told before. the playing cards, the heist, the grand reveal… even if you took inspiration from another sr media group, you were still able to make the concept your own, which is impressive in its own right. congratulations on a successful performance, i think as a whole you’ve impressed all three of us.”

“except TOUMA,” yuna continues into individual critiques immediately, “i think you were in your head too much with this performance. you looked like you were fighting the concept more than you were living it, especially in the first part of the performance. the only time your expressions were believable was during your exchange with jihyun. your tone was flat, your dancing was too methodical, and the immersion was broken whenever i was watching you. you did seem to improve your vocals though, so good job on that.”

yuna’s curt review is followed up by ran, who addresses the contestants a little more gently. “you weren’t very comfortable being sexy, were you touma?” she asks, the camera zooming in on touma’s reaction before she continues. “we wanted to challenge you with this concept and… well, you were definitely challenged. maybe we pushed a bit too hard. is there another concept you would have preferred?” again, the camera waits for touma’s reaction. “you did well despite the hardships and i want to commend you for giving it your best without giving up.”

“at least you’re singing better now,” jihun remarks, his words far from soft and gentle as ran’s had been. “as long as we see improvement, we know we’re putting you down the right path. maybe this wasn’t your favorite concept, but you have to trust us a bit more that we know what we’re doing and embrace change more quickly. you did alright. not great, but it’s passable. you didn’t let your team down.” that’s the closest one can get to a compliment from jihun.

“ARA,” jihun turns his attention to the girl once his evaluation of touma is complete, “you seem to be balancing the desire to stand out with the need to support your team. it’s not an easy happy medium to figure out. in fact, it’s one of the hardest things even our trainees have to navigate. these people are your competition, but they’re also your key to the next phase in your career. how do you address that?” he pauses as the camera pans down the puzzle team lineup. “i think you found that balance this time. i could see your ambition, but you didn’t sell out your team to climb to the top. kudos, or whatever.”

“it won’t kill you to give a compliment every now and then,” ran swats jihun’s arm lightly, though she turns to ara with a smile. “ara, you played your part to perfection,” ran praises the girl warmly, “you stood out in a good way, as one of the most comfortable people on stage so far tonight. but, as jihun said, not in a way that made the rest of your team look bad. you were clearly giving this performance your all, which is exactly what we want to see from every contestant at this stage in the competition. it’s only their own fault if they don’t, at this point.”

“you’re a good singer and even better dancer,” yuna compliments the girl, “and i think we were all pleasantly surprised by how well you adopted this concept and absolutely owned the stage. you gave us a good performance. honestly, i don’t really have many notes here for you. if anything, just watch your energy to make sure it’s consistent throughout your performance. it’s okay to be tired at the end.”

“great job, ara,” ran congratulates the contestant one more time.

“HYUNKI… you disappeared into this performance, a little bit,” yuna comments, looking down at something written in front of her before she continues. “you didn’t really have many lines. why was that? the song is a bit rap-heavy, sure, but were you really so content not to give it a shot just to give yourself more time in center stage? you should be a little greedier. this is a competition, don’t forget.”

“yuna’s right,” jihun frowns. “were you really satisfied with the parts you were given? i like to see a little more ambition out of my trainees, especially in the later stages of a competition. did you get complacent just because we gave you a good ranking a couple of times? don’t forget that hangyeol has been first place twice now. you may have been our male center, but you don’t have that much room to fall back on your laurels.” of course the rivalry manufactured early in the season comes back to haunt the contestants now. of course jihun would be the one to bring it up.

ran chooses her words carefully before continuing the critique. “your brand of sexy was a bit… unlikable, at times,” she admits, seemingly unable to find the right words. “cocky can be charming, or sometimes it’s just boastful and loud. i think your performance fell into the second half, i wasn’t as charmed with you as i was with some of your teammates. it’s okay to do things outside of your own comfort zone, but i thought you would handle this concept better.”

“hangyeol would have,” jihun butts in, again bringing up the rivalry. ran doesn’t respond.

the camera watches hyunki’s expression for a moment before turning to the next contestant to face the judges’ criticism, RYU SIWOO.

“siwoo, did you finally wake up and join us?” jihun almost laughs as he addresses the contestant. “don’t think we didn’t notice your apathy in the early rounds, especially compared to how much you seemed to care about this performance now. were you frustrated? did you want to do better? good. that’s what we want to see. if you didn’t, we’d have to send you home by now. we knew you had it in you.” he almost seems smug, as if this discovery was something that jihun himself was responsible for and not siwoo’s own decision to lock in on this competition.

“as expected, this was your concept,” ran beams. “you fit sexy well… your looks help, but your demeanor and expressions during this performance looked so natural. you liked it too, didn’t you?” she teases lightly, a bright smile on her lips as she compliments the contestant. “i think this was our best performance from you yet, siwoo. keep it up and i can’t wait to see what you’ll show us next time.”

yuna presses her lips together in a tight smile. “jihun and ran have praised you for this concept, so i feel it’s my responsibility to point out that your performance skills still aren’t quite up to par. you know this, don’t you? you can cover it up with stage presence and good looks to some extent, but it won’t last forever. siwoo, i hope you continue to take this seriously and show us an even better performance next time. now that you seem more focused, i’ll look forward to how much you can grow.”

“speaking of growth,” ran moves on, “can we talk about JIHYUN’s stage presence? to be honest, at the start of this competition, you looked rather… robotic on stage, jihyun. but this performance… whew!” ran fans herself with her hand as if cooling herself off. “you certainly figured out how to embrace sexy! we knew you had it in you, we’re just glad to see it come out by the time you stood on stage. excellent work.”

“were you really provoking touma on stage?” jihun smiles, amused at what he had witnessed on stage. “i don’t know what’s going on between you two, but we’ve noticed that you seem to be more competitive with each other than the other contestants. it worked well for this performance and you didn’t sacrifice teamwork for whatever it is between you two. sometimes rivalry can bring out the best in both parties. keep at it.”

“this was our best performance from you yet,” yuna smiles, and then glances sideways at ran. “and i’ll admit, i was rather captivated by your performance tonight as well. i’m not sure there’s a girl watching at home who didn’t fall for you a little bit!” she laughs, not at all embarrassed; this is the job of an idol after all. “you sing well, you’re dancing better every episode, and you finally found your confidence on stage. if you can bring that same energy to the finale, you’ll be a hard opponent to beat. great job.”

next to face the attention of the judges is SEIRA, and as yuna picks up the microphone she doesn’t look too happy about what she has to say. “seira,” she sighs, pausing for a moment before deciding how to continue. “you know the phrase ‘fake it until you make it,’ right? we can tell you’re still faking it and haven’t made it yet.”

yuna shakes her head. “i don’t know where to begin. you had the most important role in this concept and yet you didn’t seem special at all on stage. your expressions were inconsistent with the vibes of the performance, your performance itself seemed stiff and robotic, and you keep saying you’ll improve your skills and yet we hardly see a difference from when you first started this competition. i know you worked hard, but it seems that you lack focus and direction.”

“it’s disappointing, to be honest,” jihun also looks unhappy, though that’s not uncommon. “your team trusted you with this role and i’m not sure why when you’ve proved to us over and over again that you can’t stand on stage without leaning on someone else for support. it’s fine to work in a team, but what are you actually good at? if even you can’t confidently say anything, how are we supposed to believe you have any ability? you should be doing better by now. thank your team, since they carried you once again.”

ran purses her lips together. she doesn’t want to be as harsh as jihun, but something has to be said. “i don’t think you were ready for this performance,” she sighs. “i don’t know whether it’s a maturity issue, a skill issue, or if you just don’t have the talent at this point. i hate to be harsh, but you have to understand that we’re late in the competition. everything matters more now. you lack focus in tackling your weaknesses and your performance suffered for it. i’m sorry, seira. if your team doesn’t take first place, you’re in serious danger.”

the camera zooms in close on seira’s face, now the second contestant of the night to receive a similar critique. it’ll all come down to the final judgements at the end of the episode. puzzle team is dismissed from the stage shortly afterward.

before how practice had gone for the ADRENALINE team is shown on screen, there’s the sound of a loud bang of a door cutting in, along with intelligible noises of what seems to be a heated conversation. glimpses of balled fists and shaky hands flit across the screen, followed by murmurs and whispers indiscernible behind the restroom door. just what had happened amongst these team members?

leaving that for later, the camera focuses on INHO and JAEYOUNG, talking about their concept ahead. it seems that the two of them are working on their characters. “do you consider yourself a nerd?” inho asks his companion. it sounds like a random question, a completely different vibe from the preview that was shown earlier.

“i consider myself an enigma,” jaeyoung doesn’t flinch as he says it, uttered with utmost conviction. but he follows that up with a more appropriate answer. “ if i had to say… i guess i’d be the nerd spitting random facts and talking incessantly because i’m socially awkward and spend most of my days buried in books.” why are they talking about nerds, exactly? could this be part of their concept? “you can be the musical nerd. theatre kid vibes, maybe,” jaeyoung urges, giving his teammate suggestions.

“i don’t think i have ever identified myself with the concept of ‘teen crush’ or 'bright’, both of those were ones i knew i would find myself being more uncomfortable with.” inho is seen in the interview room, speaking on his thoughts about the concept he was given. “as we practiced i found myself becoming more and more comfortable with the concept and the storyline.”

“isn’t that you everyday?” inho asks first with an obvious teasing cadence, it’s clear that the two of them have a friendly relationship now, inho listening to jaeyoung’s ramblings with patience. “the music nerd, though, that makes sense for me i think.” luckily, it seems inho is finding his footing even with a concept that he doesn’t seem to be as excited about at first.

jaeyoung seem to be helping others feel in touch with their inner nerdiness, seeing as he’s also talking to KAITO. “have you thought about what cool thing you want to do to impress the popular cheerleader?” he asks, immediately following that up with another question. “actually, do you think i look nerdy enough as is?”

kaito doesn’t seem to mind, answering the questions in succession. “i’m stuck on either bringing a guitar, ‘failing’ to dance, or even just straight up tripping and making myself look like a fool,” the last idea being said in jest. “you look great. what do you think about me?” kaito returns the question, pushing up the glasses he’s wearing.

“it suits you. not all nerds wear glasses though. should we add braces to the costume?” jaeyoung adds on, although it’s clear in the way he said it that it’s not a genuine suggestion.

it seems kaito and inho share the same sentiment when it comes to the concept of teen crush, holding the belief that it’s far from their area of expertise. perhaps because they’re aware of this, they’re discussing their preparations for their future role and how they feel about it. “so, do you think you’re ready to go up there and show how ‘nerdy’ we can be?” kaito asks in a joking manner, gesturing to their attires later—although, the audience doesn’t get to see it just yet. “i wonder if i should have just dressed this comfortably when i was in school.” he tilts his head, as if he’s trying to be cute in that moment.

“ready as i’ll ever be,” inho responds, seeming amused at kaito’s cutesy act. “comfortable was always better if we didn’t have to wear uniforms, but you might wanna work on the aegyo,” he says, teasing his teammate.

“i don’t think i was actually made for the whole 'aegyo’ thing, but if i somehow manage to make it to the very end… well i’ll do my best to show the best aegyo at the finale just for you.” it’s an optimistic promise that kaito is making, hopefully that statement becomes true.

on the other side, stevie and JIAYI can be seen working on the choreography. “what do you think about this?” stevie showcases a few moves to jiayi, seeking her approval and commentary. “looks kinda powerful? maybe? might fit with the drop.”

“i like that it follows the beat drop,” jiayi compliments. “what if we continue that trend throughout the rest of the dance intro?” she hands out her own idea, contributing.

“i think it’ll flow nice. we could add a few transitions too… maybe take turns on each side? so they’d have to pan from side to side? two on the side, then one in the middle to bring it all forward? that could lean towards the end of the intro, if anything.” he speaks as he repeats his motions. “what do you think? am i cooking here?” stevie cracks a joke, grinning.

jiayi is on board. “a panorama of the team. instead of an ending fairy, we’ll have a beginning fairy!” whether a ‘beginning fairy’ will happen or not, will only be shown during the performance itself.

inho seems to be taking on an older sibling figure in this team, helping both stevie and jiayi with their concerns vocal-wise. first, the screen features inho and stevie. “what can i lend my ear for?” inho tells stevie, always willing to help, patient when he speaks and guides a teammate.

“i think i’m good with the tone, but i think my breath control could use a little work…” stevie admits.

“show me what you got so far, and we’ll figure out what we can do to get you a bit steadier. i struggled with that when i was younger,” inho replies, turning his full attention towards stevie. before that scene can be resolved though, it cuts to inho and jiayi instead, working on vocals once more.

“how have you felt about our run throughs so far?” inho asks when he walks over to jiayi. “i think our pitch sounds good together.”

"i thought at first, maybe the harmonies would sound better if it were you and another one of the boys singing this part, but i think it's contrasting in a good way. it adds another layer of . . . depth?" jiayi seems confused at her own wording, but inho is capable of understanding her.

“it definitely adds nice layers as we are winding down the song. sure, me and one of the boys would sound great together i’m sure, but i like it as the two of us.” inho confirms, hopefully putting jiayi at ease. perhaps inho is gifted as a coach, too? or is this because he is familiar with the role of an older sibling?

that being said, the coaches aren’t sitting idly by either. SARANG, with skills in stage presence and performance, is guiding stevie in the right direction with expressions and the like. “i think it’d be fun to do like, some audience eye contact– throw out some more cheeky grins. more personality? that kind of thing. what do you think?” stevie seems eager for a dash of sarang’s wisdom.

“i think that’s perfect, and i think you have the natural ability to know when to milk those moments, and when to lean away from them,” sarang notes. “definitely keep your expressions varied through the ending, but when you strike your final pose, find your camera, and shine; treat that lens as if it’s your favorite person in the world and show it all the love you can!” it’s a helpful imagery, one that stevie seems to understand.

“i think i can do that. i just have to settle on what expression i’d wanna make,” stevie concludes, seemingly thinking about what he should do.

as stevie continues to rehearses in front of sarang’s watchful eyes, stevie can be heard speaking throughout the clip. “i thought it was fun. our song choice helped– it calls for bright and upbeat, and it’s hard not to be when you’re singing along, y’know?” although his face can’t be seen at the moment, it’s obvious that stevie is smiling as he talks. “and everyone was super involved, i feel. there was a lot that we could do with it, but i think we’re all happy with what we ended up with.”

once again, the unseen interviewer poses a question. “you think? were there any disagreements in the creative process?”

it’s then that the screen switches to stevie in his interview room, capturing the nervous look on his face and the shaken laugh. “i mean…a little? i think we all can agree tensions are a little…crazy with how things went last episode. a little probably carried over those first few days.”

finally, there’s a shot of RENYI in frame, accompanied by the voice of jihun in his moment of anger. it plays in the background as ren is closely observing one of the contestants. “renyi, i hope this was an oversight on your part and not an intentional contingency plan for teammates you preferred,” is one of the lines being replayed. “i would have thought that the studio delta teams would have blown everyone out of the water, and yet i’m sitting here and a lime entertainment team is the most unique rendition we’ve seen so far. aren’t you a little bit embarrassed?” jihun’s voice can be heard yet again, almost haunting.

there’s a few cuts on screen as jihun’s voice continues, particularly of ren paying extra attention to little details, every small mistake like the next tick to a bomb. stevie in particular seems to have noticed, on edge, almost like he expected ren to snap at one point. but stevie isn’t the one gracing ren’s attention. it’s jaeyoung, the contestant that ren is currently watching.

after splitting off into individual practice, jaeyoung had been dancing, until something seems to have popped into his head. he pauses for a moment, walking over to his bag to take out a pen, scribbling something into his palm. unfortunately, that is the last straw for ren. “the winner of this battle is team a, but only because we can’t have two losers,” jihun’s voice plays once more as ren stands up, approaching jaeyoung, asking whoever is nearby to shut down the music.

“do you think because you got a bit of praise last time you can do whatever you want now?” even though he’s spouting harsh words, it seems as if it’s almost against his own will. and yet, it continues to spill out of him. “look around. everyone else here was ranked higher than you, and yet you’re practicing the least. is this a joke to you? because for some of us, this is a future. maybe the only future we know. and if you aren’t taking this seriously, you should leave now.” the words are eerily familiar to the things jihun had said before, whether ren noticed or not though is up to interpretation.

before jaeyoung gives his responds, the scene cuts to jaeyoung in the interview room instead. “i take every comment and feedback that’s given to me seriously. i will respond accordingly, too.” jaeyoung puts on what looks like a diplomatic smile, something that he hadn’t done before throughout the show. “i have nothing else to say here—everything i needed to say, has already been conveyed to whoever needs to hear it. that’s all.”

the scene returns to the confrontation, with jaeyoung wearing that same smile he had in the interview room. it’s almost jarring, uncanny. “thank you for your feedback, i appreciate it. earlier too, i appreciated that you steered our concept in the right direction.” it’s clear he tried to make it sound genuine and polite, but it doesn’t come off that way. “i know you’ve been paying extra close attention to me in particular since we finished discussing our concept,” it’s a subtle shade and jab from jaeyoung’s part. it’s revealed then that what jaeyoung had written were things related to the stage, plans and ideas that he had been thinking about for his own part. “i’ve been racking my head wondering what i’ve been doing wrong, realized working with a team meant compromises. it’s why i waited until individual practices to actually start brainstorming so i don’t hinder joint practice.”

when jaeyoung lifts his gaze towards ren’s, it almost feels like a challenge, despite his smile there’s clearly a fury in there that he can’t contain. “what are we to you, exactly? just tools for you to prove your worth? your second chance to show you-know-who that you deserved your prize last season? a trophy for you to present to your ceo as a 'hey-i-did-this-please-keep-me’ thing? our lives are the ones on the line, and here you are plastering your failure onto all of us. waiting for one of us to mess up, maybe. i don’t know. you know yourself best. if you can’t handle the pressure of coaching, of training, of failing to do all that—why did you sign up?” it’s a long-winded speech, only fueling the rising tension between both parties. he looks frustrated, perhaps he realized that arguing with one of last season’s winners wasn’t a very good idea?

of course, ren doesn’t take too kindly to that—that’s to be expected, he almost seems to crumble and break. whether from the pressure as whole or jaeyoung’s words, only ren knows. “do you know that every day, when you go home after filming, we go back to training? that not only do i have to make sure you’re good enough, but i have to make sure i’m not getting worse too? that at any moment, on any day, it doesn’t matter how long i’ve trained, someone can decide i don’t have what it takes? nobody here is guaranteed anything. not you. not me. not anybody. i’m grateful to be here every day, even if it’s with someone like you. you should act like it.” ren sounds tired, the stress reaching its peak.

but that seems to be the end of it, for now. the rest of the group is staring at the pair, the cameras still pointed at them. it’s an uncomfortable situation, where only silence permeates. eventually though, ren speaks up. “i need a break, i’ll leave first.”

the only one who follows after the trainee is sarang. the two enter the restroom, and that’s when the clip ends. compared to dohyun, who had gone through the same brutal criticism, it doesn’t seem like ren has a lot of faith in his team.

there is no conclusion to this fight, really. instead, stevie’s voice can be heard again. “i think i’m being more hopeful, than anything. but i guess, yeah. i am pretty confident with what we’ve done. i think everyone worked hard on it– tirelessly, too. maybe that’s why.” a hopeful lilt, despite what had been shown previously.

with that, the team’s performance is slated to begin.

the setting of the stage is a classroom, with the contestants wearing outfits corresponding to their characters. which, in this case, are a bunch of nerds—except for jiayi, tasked with the role of being the popular cheerleader that everyone is head over heels for and fighting over. as she passes by, the boys act like lovesick fools vying for her attention, following her like a bunch of ducks. each nerd brings out something cool to impress her: stevie doing a trick with his skateboard, inho with his electric guitar, jaeyoung with his small board with difficult math equations.

they all fall into formation for a dance break intro, focused on introducing jiayi as everyone’s crush, highlighting her like the sea parting as she walks on.

jaeyoung’s voice can be heard playing in the background as the dance intro continues. “i think we did pretty well. we worked together and created something fun to watch! my favourite part was working on the dance intro.” it’s shown to be a self-choreographed dance intro, with contributions from stevie, kaito and jaeyoung, something original that they had done for this stage.

the choreography starts off rather simple, but slowly begins to progress as the melody makes a change. it builds up as it goes on, eventually dropping into adrenaline. this team is taking the romantic comedy route with their storyline. everyone seems confident in their performance, with hints of cheeky smiles and boyish attitudes. there’s also a chemistry of rivals mixed in, tensions and heat rising as they compete for the hand of the popular cheerleader. there’s a few petty glances and looks, particularly from jaeyoung, but it seems in sync.

stevie gives a wink, as jiayi smoothly glides to the front. the ending slowly approaches, everyone looking like they have a good time. they strike their ending pose, before it turns to another brief skit. each nerd looks at jiayi with expectations, begging her to choose. instead, jiayi acts unimpressed, choosing no one and confidently walking off. the boys act distraught, there’s even a small yell of “wait! give me a chance!” in the midst of it all. stevie lags behind for a moment, throwing some of the confetti in the air before laughing and continuing with the chase.

after a moment of applause, the team returns to their positions on stage, awaiting their critiques.

“it was cute!” ran laughs into her microphone, her expression bright at first before it fades into a more serious look. “but your concept wasn’t cute, it was teen crush. i couldn’t help but feel that you missed the mark just a bit. teen crush is supposed to be the enviable kids, the popular students who exude confidence and invite others to be like them. i can’t help but think that only jiayi really fit that role in your performance. the rest felt a bit.. comedic. it didn’t suit the image we asked you to portray.”

“like ran said, the performance was enjoyable, but that doesn’t mean that we think it checked the boxes we assigned to you. teen crush is a tricky concept, it’s a bit vague compared to ‘sexy’ or ‘cute’ like the other teams, but groups like our PRIZM have set an example of what it should look like,” yuna sighs. “there was also tension on the team that bled into the performance, wasn’t there? it’s fine, teams fight sometimes, but you have to put that behind you before stepping on stage.”

where yuna seemed unwilling to call out any particular contestant, jihun has no such reservations. “RENYI,” he frowns, though it doesn’t seem to be directed at the trainee behind some of the drama. “i wish DOHYUN had half the fight you do. you should be upset after i tell you you’re doing something wrong. and then you should fix it. you took steps to improve and to help your team, even if they didn’t want to hear what you had to say. dohyun disappeared.”

jihun shakes his head. “as for the performance itself, i’m surprised that a sr media trainee would let this group stray so far from the concept they were assigned. surely you knew the difference, right?” he looks directly at sarang, though he doesn’t scold someone else’s trainee any more. that’s not jihun’s place, after all.

“as we said, JIAYI was the only contestant who we felt fit the teen crush concept,” ran kicks off the individual critiques on a high note, at least. “it makes sense since she was the object of everyone’s affections and the literal ‘crush’ everyone was interested in, but why couldn’t the rest of the team be less…”

“losers?” jihun suggests when ran struggles to find the words. she shoots him a glare but seems to accept that description.

“your confidence definitely shined during this performance,” ran commends the girl, “good job for not letting the boys take over or bully you into the background. you were the star and you played your role well. great job, jiayi.”

“your expressions were especially good this time,” yuna praises the girl as well, “a little bit of cheekiness fit the role really well and made you very charming to watch. the boys didn’t know what was coming, did they?” she laughs. “as ran said, your role was the most ‘teen crush’ role on the entire team. it’s just a shame you had to sell the concept all by yourself; that’s too much even to ask a more experienced idol group. you should have all worked together to build the concept, but that’s not your fault. great job.”

“i can see why none of the boys impressed you,” jihun almost laughs himself. “they didn’t impress us either. you did, however. whatever the fate of adrenaline team may be, you’ll be safe. your performance ensured that.”

while the judges had nothing but high praise for jiayi, it’s not such the case for KAITO.

“honestly, i don’t even know what to say,” yuna sighs, flipping through the papers in front of her as if searching for some sort of comment on the young man’s performance. “you completely disappeared on stage, as if you were never even there. at this stage in the competition, that’s not acceptable. you know that, right?”

“she’s right,” jihun agrees, his expression significantly darker than it had been when talking to jiayi. “you didn’t show up at all, kaito. are you taking this competition seriously? do you want to be here? it’s too late to replace you now, but at least it makes our decision easier should someone from this team have to be eliminated tonight.”

ran folds her hands in front of her, clearly unhappy about having to lay down the law with another contestant. “you’ve done well in the competition to make it this far, but your past performances don’t count toward what you showed us tonight. whatever happens… just understand that we gave you every opportunity we could.”

a deep sigh passes through all of the judges, trying to shake off the tension before they turn their attention to the next contestant.

“JAEYOUNG,” jihun begins, “did you really have to fight with renyi?” however, he doesn’t seem that upset. “was that the only way to make you wake up on stage? you were dancing like you had something to prove for the first time. this might have been your best performance yet. and while we’ve critiqued the overall concept, you played the competitive part of your character well. but that’s about it.” he straightens his papers in front of him. “rivalry is a good motivator, as i said before, but you’d be wise to listen to your seniors too. they do know what they’re talking about.”

“as jihun said, you played your role well,” ran takes over before the tension can mount any more. “there was a fierceness to your competition for jiayi’s heart that the others lacked. while nerds aren’t really the best suited for the concept we asked for, your character seemed to be the closest. you were focused and confident this time and it came across well on stage.”

yuna picks up her microphone last. “if i had one criticism, it’d be that your skills seem a bit… average. you did well with this performance as far as your character work went, but it didn’t quite translate to the way you sang and danced. like, your face had a good expression, but your body language lacked a bit. you performed cleanly, but too cleanly, if you understand what i mean.”

“thank you for your performance, jaeyoung,” ran smiles once more.

“INHO,” ran kicks off the next contestant’s critique, “do you not like the concept we assigned you?” she waits for a response, the slightest frown on a normally warm and happy face. “even if you hated it, i wish you had been a little more enthusiastic on stage. unfortunately, your feelings about this song and concept showed in your performance and impacted your ability to tell the story. we know you’re not actually interested in jiayi, but it was your responsibility to make us forget that for at least a minute. you failed, in that regard.”

yuna sighs as she picks up her microphone. “unfortunately, it’s not just your acting performance that suffers when you dislike a song or concept so much. you’re a better performer than we saw tonight. you can sing and dance better than what we saw. even if you hate it, you should put your energy into pretending otherwise. you owe it to your team to leave your ego at the door when you walk into this competition. you’re all at the same level, you know that right? you’re not better than them for thinking you’re too mature for the teen crush concept.”

“more than that, it’s disrespectful to us, the judges, who assigned your teams,” jihun frowns. “as we said, we chose concepts we thought would fit each contestant or challenge you to put on the best possible performance. do you not trust us to know what we’re doing? do you think you know better?” jihun stares down the contestant, waiting for an apology before continuing. “you should be worried about your rank tonight.” he warns.

“STEVEN, on the other hand,” jihun changes his attention to the final contestant on the team, “lived and breathed the concept, didn’t you?” a slight smile appears on the man’s face, the smallest sign of approval of the contestant before him. “were you a nerd in school? you almost played the part too well,” he laughs, almost mockingly if it weren’t for the way he had praised stevie before. “you looked like you were having fun on stage, which suits the concept. if you hadn’t gone for a nerd concept, i think you would have suited teen crush even better than jiayi.”

“can you show us the skateboard thing again?” ran beams brightly, enthralled by stevie’s performance. “i hadn’t seen anyone do that on stage before! while i do think you were a bit more cute than teen crush, i think it was more of the fault of the character you were assigned rather than your own performance. it’s alright to be a bit of a loser, but you have to be an endearing loser. you fit that role well, great job on this performance.”

“besides the fact that you acted well,” yuna takes over, “your dancing was also the best on your team. you seemed to feel the music move through you and had a great natural groove. honestly, i kept finding my eyes landing on you during the performance in a good way; i was having fun watching you perform. great job, steven. you’ve really grown a lot.” yuna smiles.

with all performances concluded, all three teams return to the stage with jian standing in the middle of them. “after much deliberation, the judges have come to a decision on which team is the winner of the concept evaluation,” she holds up a folded card, the results written inside and hidden from view. “the team in first place and safe from any elimination is… PUZZLE TEAM!”

a moment for celebration and congratulations is shared before the contestants calm down again. puzzle team leaves the stage for the moment, all members safe, while NONSTOP and ADRENALINE teams will be losing members.

“we’ll start with our last place team, ADRENALINE,” jian announces. “JAEYOUNG, JIAYI, STEVIE, please step forward.” as the three contestants step forward, spotlights shining down on them, the music suddenly turns intense. “the three of you are… safe! please return back stage for the moment while eliminations are decided.” the three teammates say a quick good bye to the remainder of their team before disappearing backstage. only KAITO and INHO are left.

“one of you will be going home,” jian tells them. “unfortunately, the contestant we’ll be saying good bye to is… KAITO.”

“kaito, you just didn’t make an impression on us at all with this performance, so we had to let you go. we hope that you continue to improve your abilities and we see you on stage again someday,” ran informs the eliminated contestant, an unhappy expression on her face as if she didn’t really want to eliminate anyone at all. alas, rules are rules.

a moment for good byes is given before both contestants return backstage, where a camera captures the tearful moments with the entirety of adrenaline team saying good bye to their eliminated teammate. the moment is only a few seconds and yet still seems too long before the scene returns to the stage where nonstop team awaits the same fate.

“JINGREN and YUWOL, please step forward,” jian asks them. “the two of you are… NOT SAFE.” the remainder of the contestants are dismissed backstage again as the two bottom ranked members of nonstop team are left alone with jian to announce their fate.

“do you have any final words for our viewers?” jian asks the two, giving them each a moment to speak before she returns to the task at hand. “i’m sorry to say that the final contestant leaving us tonight is… JINGREN.”

“jingren, you had the unfortunate coincidence of just being the lowest ranking person on an otherwise very talented team,” yuna explains. “it was a hard decision to make, please believe us. unfortunately, someone had to go home and the others on your team out-performed you in this one particular performance. you’re still very much a talented individual and we have no doubt that this is not the last we’ll see from you.”

as with adrenaline team, nonstop team is given time backstage to say goodbye to their eliminated teammate.

with the eliminations complete, all contestants are brought back to the stage to see the rankings and reveal the next episode.

“the next episode will be our LIVE FINALE,” jian announces, “you will all be performing original songs, never before seen or heard on any stage, all in front of a live audience of next gen fans! the fans have voted for what songs they’d like each of you to perform, so let’s see our teams for the finale!”

the screen changes to the lineup of each team, a short snipped of the song assigned to them playing as the names appear on screen.

“the top three ranked contestants will be offered a contract from any company of their choosing,” jian explains the stakes again to the contestants, “with the runner-ups receiving a contract from one of the three companies, should they want to sign them. this final performance will decide your fate, so please prepare diligently! we’ll see you LIVE on the next episode!”

do better plays louder in the background before the credits begin to play on screen.

#be:ngs2 #be:ngs2p4 #be:event

4 notes · View notes