Gymnast Girl - Tumblr Posts
Hi! I saw that you were making fanfics about Leon Marchand. Maybe you can make one where the reader is a very anxious person and he comforts her before her olympic competion (you can choose any sport you want). And she end up winning and After gotten her medal, she just hug him ? (Sorry if i made any mistakes, english is not my first language) I don't have any oc but can you make the reader be in the estonian team ! Thanks you and i hope you have a great day/night !
✧✧✧ ─ Calm Before the Storm
Léon Marchand X Female!Reader
Hello my dearie, I hope you're well. I have chosen gymnastics if that's alright, I liked going for the super Fluff. Enjoy Mwah!
Warnings: Fluff, No knowledge of Olympic Village going ons, Friendship, I have NO Gymnastics knowledge, Mature themes.
The familiar hum of the arena buzzed around you, the sound of spectators, coaches, and the occasional outburst of applause echoing through the corridors. The rhythmic beats of your heart were louder, though, pounding in your ears as you sat on a bench in the warm-up area. Your hands trembled as you tried to take deep breaths, your mind racing with the what-ifs and the weight of the moment. The Olympic Games—your Olympic Games—were at their peak, and you were minutes away from the most important performance of your life.
Representing Estonia was a dream come true, but the pressure was crushing. You’d trained your entire life for this, yet now, with everything on the line, the anxiety was threatening to consume you.
“Hey,” a familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts.
You looked up to see Léon Marchand standing there, his swim cap still in hand, a gold medal already draped around his neck from his event earlier that day. He smiled, that easy, reassuring grin that you’d come to rely on during these stressful days in the Olympic Village.
“Léon,” you managed to say, though your voice wavered.
He sat down beside you, close but not too close, giving you the space you needed. “You looked like you could use a friend right about now.”
You nodded, swallowing hard. “I just... I can’t seem to calm down. What if I mess up? What if...”
“Hey, hey, slow down,” Léon interrupted softly, placing a hand on your knee. “Take a deep breath with me.”
You tried to follow his lead, inhaling deeply, though your breath hitched halfway. He noticed and smiled softly, waiting until you tried again. This time, it was a little easier.
“Look,” he said, his tone steady, “I know how you’re feeling. Maybe not the exact same way, but I’ve been there. Everyone here has. This is the Olympics. It’s supposed to be overwhelming, but it’s also supposed to be the moment you’ve been dreaming about. You’re ready for this. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”
His words were a balm, slowly easing the tension that had wound itself tight around your chest. You focused on his calm demeanor, the way he spoke as if this were just another day, another competition, not the pinnacle of your career.
“Remember when we talked about why you love gymnastics?” he continued, his voice gentle. “You told me it’s about the feeling of flying, of losing yourself in the movement. It’s about the freedom. Don’t let the pressure take that away from you. This is your moment to do what you love.”
You nodded, the knot in your stomach beginning to loosen. “But what if I fail?”
“And what if you don’t?” he countered. “What if this is the best performance of your life? Either way, you’re going out there and giving it everything. That’s all you can do. And no matter what happens, you’ve already made your country proud. You’ve made me proud.”
His words sank in, anchoring you to the moment. You took another deep breath, steadier this time, and felt the panic recede, leaving determination in its place.
“I guess you’re right,” you said, offering a small smile.
“I’m always right,” Léon teased, earning a soft laugh from you. “Now go out there and show them what you’ve got. I’ll be watching.”
With one last reassuring squeeze of your knee, he stood, offering you a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling a renewed sense of confidence as you rose to your feet.
As you walked towards the arena, the noise of the crowd grew louder, but instead of being overwhelming, it now felt like a distant hum, something separate from the clarity in your mind. You turned back to Léon, who gave you a thumbs-up and a wink before disappearing into the sea of athletes and coaches.
The competition itself felt like a blur, each movement ingrained in muscle memory, each routine executed with a precision you hadn’t felt in years. When you finished, the crowd erupted in applause, but it wasn’t until you saw your scores flash on the screen—scores high enough to secure a medal—that it truly hit you.
You’d done it.
Later, standing on the podium with a medal around your neck, the national anthem of Estonia playing in the background, you searched the crowd. When you found Léon, he was grinning, pride shining in his eyes.
As soon as the ceremony ended, you bolted off the podium and straight into his arms. He caught you easily, laughing as you buried your face in his chest, the reality of what you’d just accomplished sinking in.
“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.
“For what?” he asked, pulling back slightly to look at you.
“For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”
Léon smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Always.”
And in that moment, you knew that no matter where your career took you next, you’d never face it alone.
