#Start Your New Year in the City of Lights: Paris | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bvidzsoo · 5 months ago

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Take me to Paris...

▽ Neighbor!Seonghwa ▽

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Park Seonghwa x female reader

∞ Warning: light mocking, blood, murder ∞ Word count: 5.6k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, single mother!au, moving in together!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: With the appearance of Park Seonghwa in your neighborhood on a random afternoon, you find yourself running into him more often than not. You can't help but be skeptical of him, but I mean, your daughter loves him, so he must be a good man, right?

∞ A/N: I haven't forgotten about this little drabble series I have started a while ago, fear not hehe! Finally, Seonghwa's part is here, I hope it's enjoyable as I find it wonky lol. I don't know yet who I'll be posting next, it could be either Hongjoong, or Wooyoung, or even Mingi. Oh, and nothing is too detailed so you don't have to worry about that. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated and I hope you enjoy!

▽ Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥

Summer was nearing its end, the weather slowly turning cloudier and moodier. The mornings were chill, refreshing, but throughout the day it would warm up significantly, allowing you to walk around wearing thin and cute outfits. However, by the time the evening came, you’d have to cover up with something warm to keep yourself from catching a cold. All of that while trying to remain fashionable, well, whatever a four-year-old found fashionable enough. Wrestling my little one into outfits that would keep her both warm but not too hot was rather difficult as she turned out to have a rather stubborn persona even at her young age. Not liking to be coddled, but also hating to be alone was something we battled with daily, except on the days when her nanny came over so that I could go to work. My little one hasn’t been trusting of strangers since an even younger age, big eyes wary of anyone who came too close and cooed at her. Perhaps my overprotective tendencies played a big role in my daughter being skeptical of those around her, unless they were little girls who liked to play dress-up and organize tea parties in blanket forts.

Life as a single mother hadn’t been easy, but we managed just fine—have been for a while now. My parents lived in the city next to ours, a mere one-hour long drive away, and that also played a role in me learning how to be independent while navigating through motherhood for the first time. I would be lying if I said it was easy and an absolutely lovely journey, but I also would be lying if I said I haven’t been enjoying every single part of it, every little step my beautiful daughter has taken by my side. Without my two best friends, I probably wouldn’t be living as comfortably as I was at the moment, would be probably juggling between jobs, and considering moving back in with my parents. Arin’s father hasn’t been part of our lives since the second he found out I was pregnant, instead, he ran off to work on a cruise ship, throwing in the excuse that he’d be too absent in our lives like that, and instead he’d like to prevent his daughter from growing up wondering when her father would be back. However, due to his stupid choices he ended up making her wonder why she didn’t have a father like all the other children she went to kindergarten with or played at the playground with. Everyone makes mistakes, and mine was trusting my highschool sweetheart, who also happened to be the biggest asshole and player known to mankind.

With the weather changing drastically and the new school year being just around the corner, I tried to take my little one to the playground as often as I could, wanting her to enjoy the little freedom summer break offered us. My job was rather flexible and allowed me to spend a lot of time with my daughter as I more often than not worked from home, only required to step inside the headquarters when there were important meetings and business proposals. Arin had been excited when I told her we’d be going to the playground once again, before it could get dark, with the thought in mind to let her know that I would be sending her to daycare as I have decided to take on a second job as well. We managed just fine, but I wanted her to have more comfort, more toys, more pretty clothes that she could show off whenever she wanted to.

Her dark hair was in two little pigtails, bouncing on the top of her head with every step she took. The purple jeans she chose to wear didn’t match with the rest of her outfit, but I couldn’t care less when I saw the happy look on her face as we walked over to the mirror. Her blouse was a simple beige colour and had all sorts of different coloured flowers decorating it, her red socks peeking out from her white shoes. Thankfully her most favourite playground was in our neighbourhood, just around the block, and she was more than eager to meet her friends today too. I had held her little hand as we walked down the pavement, grinning as she babbled on about whatever cartoon she had been watching earlier, elated to tell her best friend about it too. Stepping inside the gated playground, I was quickly forgotten as she rushed over to her friends, not paying mind to my request of always staying within my sight. I had walked over to an empty bench and sat down, watching my daughter play around with other children with a smile on my face.

At times, I wondered what life would be like without her. Whether I would have stayed here or moved to another country, whether I would have signed up for another college or remained with the diploma I have right now. Whether I would have chosen a career that was more active and sociable than the one I had now, secluded and homebound. Whether I would have found a man that actually cherishes me and my child, whether he would have gotten married to me first and wouldn’t have run away, leaving a pregnant woman alone to fend for herself and their baby. But it was better without my ex, he would have been a horrible father, and I’d rather my little Arin not have a father figure while growing up than have one that is horrible and makes her hate all men.

It didn’t take long for the other mothers to approach me, wide smiles on their faces as they were happy to see me, happy that Arin was here to play with their children. Most of them were stay at home mothers until their children grew past the point of constantly needing attention and help, and they were rather friendly, understanding, and quite helpful if I needed guidance or a little bit of help. Doyoung’s mother was the friendliest out of them all, she never failed to make my day better and she always brought cookies for the two of us to snack on while our kids played around in the sand. But today she wasn’t here, and that meant I had to face Jake’s mother on my own, a woman that was far from being nice, and never failed to find ways to belittle me for being a single mother. She never said it, but I knew she thought I was a whore; I could see it in her eyes whenever she grinned that fake grin of hers.

“Ah, the weather is so lovely today.” And to my luck, it had been her who approached me first, the other mothers slowly coming up to us, greeting us with smiles and little waves. I paid her no mind, instead looked for my little girl, finding her on the swings as Nakyoung gently pushed her, making Arin giggle loudly.

“Is this real snake skin?!” A mother, one that was rather shallow, exclaimed as she grabbed for Jake mother’s purse, mouth having fallen open.

“Of course, it is,” Jake’s mother chuckled, looking over her sunglasses, “I don’t wear fakies.”

I tried to keep my eyeroll minimal as Jake’s mother threw a fleeting look my way, never failing to flaunt her wealth and the fact that I owned one fake Louis Vuitton bag. Sue me, the design was elegant, and I wasn’t about to leave it at the thrift store just because it was a fake one.

“It must be nice to have a rich husband.” Emma’s mother sighed dreamily, her lipstick a little smudged, but nobody pointed it out to her.

“It is rather comfortable,” Jake’s mother giggled, pushing her lavish curls behind her shoulders, “saves you from a lot of house chores and work I’d rather not do.”

“How are you today?” I felt a soft nudge against my knee, and I turned my head to face Mingyu’s mother, a woman who was beautiful beyond her years, well-mannered, wise, and very sweet. I liked her just as much as I liked Doyoung’s mother, sometimes the three of us would grab some coffee if our schedules aligned.

“Just fine, and you?” I asked, our voices hushed as we tuned out the other mothers’ conversation, not curious of whatever boasting Jake’s mother was on about. She couldn’t tell us anything new, she always repeated the same old stories, changing a few details here and there, thinking we wouldn’t notice.

“Mingyu’s been restless today,” His mother sighed, pursing her lips, “the more he grows, the harder it is to make him sit still.”

“Arin is energetic too.” I chuckled, watching Mingyu’s mother with an understanding look, “And she loves throwing tantrums if things don’t go her way.”

“Ah, of course.” Mingyu’s mother chuckled, shaking her head, “Maybe our little ones learnt it from each other, because Mingyu’s been doing them more frequently too.”

“Certainly, they must be conspiring—”

“Arin and Mingyu’s mothers,” Jake’s mother raised her voice, lips pulled into a fake grin, “are you leaving out others from your conversation now? Isn’t that rude?”

The other mothers chuckled, rather awkwardly, but Mingyu’s mother remained calm as she raised her eyebrows at Jake’s mother, “I don’t think having a private conversation with someone is considered rude despite sitting in a group.”

With a snort, I added, “Especially if only one person is talking in that group, that feels ruder to me…”

The other mothers, besides Mingyu’s, looked around awkwardly, some clearing their throats as the others tried to play it off as funny as they chuckled. Jake’s mother’s lips formed a tight line as she cleared her throat, gripping her authentic snake skin purse like anyone would want to steal it from her.

“I was merely sharing how much my lovely husband loves me.” Jake’s mother chuckled, voice dripping with honey as she blinked innocently, “You know, he’s always eager to please me, and, frankly, if a snake skin purse is what makes me happy as I have to stay at home and raise our child, he’ll get it for me without a fuss. What has your husband given you—”

Her insult wasn’t new, nor impressive, as I blinked at her, lips slowly pulling into a small smile. Mingyu’s mother scoffed next to me, and the other mothers’ looked rather uncomfortable due to the atmosphere Jake’s mother had created now. Really, if the woman wanted to hurt me, she’d have to get a lot more creative with her stupid back-handed insults.

“You know,” My voice was levelled, calm, “if I want to make myself happy, I buy that damn snake skin purse myself. I don’t need a husband who forces me to stay at home, stealing away my freedom, while he goes out and cheats on me as much as he’d like, knowing that when he returns, I’ll be waiting for him with warm dinner on the table and open legs.”

Well, that pretty much shut up the other mothers as Jake’s gasped, looking more than appalled by what I dared say to her face. I wasn’t insinuating anything, but knowing her, she definitely made it about herself in her pea sized brain, gaping like a fish as I rolled my eyes at her and turned my head to face Mingyu’s mother. She had her hand in front of her mouth, trying to muffle her giggles. A young child screamed all of a sudden, alerting us mothers as our heads whipped in the direction of the screams.

“Dear!” Kyuhyun’s mother exclaimed, running over to her child as he was clutching his little knee with tears streaming down his face. Realizing that I haven’t been checking on my little Arin, I let my eyes survey the playground, quickly coming to the alarming realization that she wasn’t anywhere. Heart suddenly racing in my chest, I jumped up to my feet and whipped my head around, alerting Mingyu’s mother.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t see Arin!” My voice sounded breathless as I left my belongings on the bench, taking off in a jog towards the sand. Mingyu was by himself, building a sand tower as he glanced up at me, his little canines showing as he grinned.

“A tower!” He pointed at his sculpture, but I couldn’t focus on that right now.

“Have you seen Arin?” I asked panicked, feelings my hands shake as I tried to fight the impeding panic that threatened to overtake my rational thoughts. I had to stay level-headed if I wanted to find my little girl.

“She went there, I think.” Mingyu pointed behind the big slides, that part of the playground rather obscured as it was covered with large bushes and overgrown grass. Thanking him quickly, I took off towards where the little boy had pointed, lump in my throat and heart in my chest racing wildly as I realized the gate was open and my little girl was talking to a man, giggling and letting him pat her head.

“Arin!” My voice sounded as panicked as I felt on the inside, it was loud and stern, alerting my daughter and the man she stood with. My feet carried me over in no time and I scooped her up in my arms, hugging her tightly, uncaring that she was getting heavier and I couldn’t carry her as much as I would’ve liked to, “Arin.”

I whispered against her hair, kissing her cheek as she giggled, hugging me around the neck as I finally turned my head, glaring at the stranger. But it took me by surprise how well-dressed and handsome he was, standing tall with his hands behind his back, shoulders pulled back, expression blank. The right side of his long black hair was slicked back, the left strands falling into his eye, slightly obscuring it from view. Despite the roundness of them, his eyes were sharp and fierce, it made my heart race once again as I couldn’t read his expression, scared of what he wanted. His nose was tall and his lips plush and plump, skin perfect and sun-kissed, “What the hell are you doing talking to my daughter?!”

My eyes swiftly checked him out again, taking in the expensive looking outfit he wore. His pants were of leather and hugged his long legs elegantly, obscuring the high heeled boots he was wearing. Despite the heat, he wore a black turtleneck with a white shirt and vest over it, all tucked inside his leather pants, with a black coat draped over his shoulders. His necktie was loose, but not to the point it would make his outfit look unkept. For a second, I wondered how he managed it with all the layers of clothing if I was sweating in a simple tee and ruffled midi-skirt.

“I’m afraid you misunderstood my intentions, Miss.” The man’s voice was deep, yet pleasant, taking me off guard by how calm and reassuring it sounded. It didn’t match his face nor outlook, “I was passing by, on my way to my car, when I saw her stumble past the unlocked gate. Worried that she was lost or would run into bad people, I decided to stop and ask her if she was here alone or with someone, with the intention of walking her back to you.”

I gulped as Arin nuzzled against my neck, peeking at the stranger with a shy giggle, “He’s handsome!”

“Arin.” I muttered, and threw her an unimpressed look, “Is it true what the man is saying?”

“Yes!” Arin exclaimed, suddenly pulling away from my neck as she grinned widely at the man. I’ve never seen her act like that towards strangers before, my eyebrows raised in surprise as I watched her make grabby hands at him, “You promised you’d carry me.”

The man’s chuckle was deep as Arin started pouting, making me feel embarrassed slightly, “Arin, you can’t ask people to just carry you around, especially not strangers—”

“But he’s not—” Her eyebrows furrowed as she struggled for a second, “stranger, he’s Seong—hwa?”

The man chuckled and fixed his coat as his hands slipped inside the pockets of his leather pants, “Seonghwa, yes. I promised to carry you to your mommy, but she’s here now, so I don’t have to do that anymore.”

“But—” Arin pouted, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she gave me puppy eyes, “can’t he be my daddy?”

“Arin.” I hissed mortified, cheeks flushing as the stranger raised an eyebrow, looking rather elegant as he did so, “I told you, you can’t ask random men to be your father—I’m sorry.”

I faced the stranger—Seonghwa—and bowed my head as Arin whined, kicking her legs and my ribs subsequently. I grimaced and went to chastise her, but to my surprise, the stranger stepped closer, eyes narrowed, but not maliciously.

“You’re hurting your mother, stop kicking.” The authority in his voice made both Arin and I pause as we both gazed at him with wide eyes, “You should thank her instead for coming to find you, and don’t wander off again, there’s a lot of bad people in the world.”

“Is that true?” Arin whispered, her round eyes falling on me as her lower lip jutted out. I sighed and nodded, facing the man again.

“Thank you, really, and I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” I bowed my head again, then placed Arin onto the ground, taking her hand into mine.

“Be more careful next time, you never know who you come across.” There was an almost dangerous lull to his tone, eyes slightly narrowing before he bowed his head and took off, probably towards his car. I gulped, the lump finally gone from my throat as I watched Seonghwa disappear around the corner, not a speck of dust on his expensive clothes. Then, I felt Arin squeeze my arm and sniff, making me look down at her to find her crying.

“Arin, what’s wrong?” I asked worried, feeling panicked again as all sorts of scenarios ran through my mind. Maybe Seonghwa did something to her and she was scared to say it in front of him.

“Seong—hwa promised to buy me cotton candy once we found you.” Tears rolled down my little one’s cheeks, making me chuckle as I crouched down to be eye level with her, “And he said he’d buy you coffee too.”

“He said that?” I asked surprised, wiping her tears away.

“Yes, he said he likes your skirt.” My eyebrows furrowed as I pressed a reassuring kiss against her chubby and rosy cheek.

“Does he now?” I muttered to myself as I stood up again, and tried to shake off the unease as I guided us back inside the playground. This was a weird interaction and it’s left me feeling uneasy and hopeful that something like this wouldn’t happen again.

Days, weeks, passed by and it seemed like the stranger from the playground was everywhere now. Park Seonghwa, he had said his name was on a random Saturday afternoon, when we bumped into each other at a rather small flower shop, ten minutes away from my neighbourhood. I hadn’t been looking where I was going as I was busy multitasking—as in opening the shop’s door while typing away on my phone to the nanny that I would be home in fifteen minutes—and thus, the second I was out the door I had collided against a hard chest. The apology died down in my throat upon seeing the familiar face, heart racing out of unease rather than excitement. But Seonghwa had been nice, helped me pick up the bouquet I had dropped, and then offered to drive me home as the wind had picked up, dark storm clouds promising a downpour that would come rather soon. But, as I had taught my little Arin to not trust strangers, I didn’t trust this man either, and politely declined his offer. He didn’t seem weird nor made me feel uncomfortable, but I was wary of him. After all, the way we met was more suspicious than not.

The next time we ran into each other was barely a few days after the encounter at the flower shop, when I was out early in the morning, picking up fresh bread and some chocolate croissants that Arin loves a lot. My best friends had slept over the night prior, and so, it was safe for me to leave the apartment on my own, the two would watch over Arin if she were to wake up earlier than expected. The bakery had an adjacent coffee shop as well, and while I waited for my coffee order, I had stepped into line to order the delicacies, unassuming of the round eyes watching me from a table placed by the entrance. I was engrossed in reading through my emails as it was finally my turn in line, but the barista called my name to get my coffee right as I had placed my order for the pastries, and I had no choice but to step aside and quickly fetch my coffee. However, when I made it back to the cashier, the delicacies and my coffee have been paid for. When I asked how, the cashier just giggled about a tall and handsome man, dressed in an expensive suit, having paid for my purchases before he hurried outside. I had swiftly turned around, eyes wide as I caught a quick glimpse of Seonghwa sitting inside a very expensive looking Mercedes Benz parked across the street. My heart had started racing, but not out of unease anymore, but out of curiosity and wonder.

Then the next week had arrived, and Arin and I were at a playhouse when suddenly Seonghwa was sat at our table, smiling widely as he offered an unopened bag of marshmallows to Arin. I couldn’t help but gape at him, wondering whether it was coincidence that he had Arin’s favourite snack at hand. He apologized for having sat at our table uninvited, but he said his niece worked at the playhouse, and upon seeing us he wanted to greet us. Arin was beyond enthralled and begged Seonghwa to stay with us, managing to convince the both of us as we gave in at the end, keen to entertain my young daughter. It was rather heartwarming seeing Seonghwa so eager to play with Arin as they both made their way to the trampolines, Seonghwa looking out of place in his fancy leather outfit. Upon finishing my orange juice, I joined the two and was rather surprised to find myself enjoying Seonghwa’s company. Despite his fierce looks, he was a gentle man with a kind heart, happily playing with Arin, and letting her drag him around while he tried to make conversation with me as well. When I had put Arin to bed, she asked whether we could invite Seonghwa over to our house for a yummy meal.

Not much to my surprise anymore, a day later, Seonghwa and I crossed paths at the convenience store, and I decided to stop being so uptight and stirred up a conversation with him, inquiring of his sudden appearances wherever I went. He said he had recently moved into the neighbourhood, hence why we were crossing paths more often, and he had always liked making new friends, so he was rather eager to get to know me, if I also wanted that. I still didn’t fully trust him—he was still a stranger after all—but I decided to agree to hanging out in the weekend, of going someplace silent and relaxing. Arin could stay with the nanny this time; I didn’t want to involve her just yet knowing she liked Seonghwa rather a lot.

It had been a day before the agreed upon hangout, when I was walking home from a meeting that got drawn out due to a business partner showing up unannounced. Thankfully one of my friend’s was free for the night and went over to my house to help out as the nanny couldn’t stay for the evening as well, stressing me out even more. The sky was dark and the air chilly as I had gotten off the bus. I hadn’t driven to my workplace because I thought the meeting wouldn’t be more than two hours, meaning that it would’ve been still light outside when I had to return home. But that was hours ago, and now I just barely managed to catch the last bus, eager to get home and bury myself under the warm blankets, cuddled up next to Arin and my friend, probably having to watch Arin’s favourite Barbie movie again.

The neighbourhood was quiet as my heels clicked loudly, my pace quickening as I could feel a blister form right underneath my big toe, making me hiss out in pain as I stepped rather wonkily on it. My wrists had started aching from how many notes I had taken, and the satchel bag that hung over my shoulder was heavier than usual due to my laptop being inside it. I passed the convenience store just as the old lady was closing up, and we briefly greeted each other as I sighed loudly, my apartment just three blocks away now, right around the corner. The streets were quiet and a few lampposts were faulty as they flickered, then completely went out, making me shiver as it reminded me of horror movie scenes. My breaths were laboured and my gut feeling told me to just hurry up, so ignoring the ache of my foot due to the blister, I started walking faster, my heels clicking harder against the concrete. Much to my alarm, I could hear hurried footsteps behind myself, almost as if they were trying to catch up to me. My heart had started racing as I gripped my satchel bag tightly, ready to swing it at whoever if they tried to come at me.

I heard a hiss behind and I decided to look back, eyes widening instantly when they fell on a masked man, who had started running at me now. I shrieked and took off, the heels not being an obstacle as I made my way down the street, clutching my bag tightly as it tried to swing around my body. Nothing could’ve stopped me as I ran for my life, chest heaving as I tried not to slow down, the apartment complex I lived in barely a block away now. But the masked man was catching up and I knew I couldn’t outrun him, so I tried to quickly think of an escape route where I could hideout and phone the police. My heart was pumping fast and my lips had started trembling as my body and mind were filled with adrenaline, fuelling my senses to push harder as I made a sharp turn to the left. The alleyway was dark, I hadn’t been here before, and my blood ran cold when I realized the dire mistake I have made. It was a dead-end alleyway, a wired tall fence separating it from the next passage. I was trapped in as I whirled around, eyes wide as they fell on the masked man blocking my only exit. He cackled, suddenly something sharp and glinting appearing in his hands. It was a knife. My body had started trembling as I tried to come up with a plan, hand him over whatever he asked for, but before I could open my mouth to plead for my life, the man stopped abruptly, then heavily fell over, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

I gasped as I watched him frozen, confused and scared of what has happened. Looking around, I couldn’t see anyone, and so, reluctantly I made my way towards the masked man. But when I finally reached him, my eyes widened in horror at the blatant bullet hole in the back of his head, blood oozing out of it onto the pavement, flowing towards the soles of my high heels. I whimpered as I walked around the dead body, eyes fixated on it as if it would revive him, when I crashed into a hard chest. I gasped and opened my mouth to shriek, to call for help, but instead it got muffled by a leather gloved hand, my body getting pushed against the side of one of the buildings the alleyway was encompassed between. My body trembled as I looked up, eyes getting even wider, if possible, as I recognized the familiar face.

“Seo-Seonghwa?” I whispered, eyes falling back onto the dead man before they snapped back to Seonghwa, “What—what is—”

“Shh,” He whispered, pushing the hair out of my eyes as he gently caressed my cheek with his gloved hand, “You’re safe now, nothing’s happened.”

“But—” I had to gulp hard, heart hammering against my ribcage as Seonghwa’s round eyes were the softest I’ve ever seen them be, lips pulled into an almost motherly smile. He was calm, way too calm, as if he was used to this, “But the man’s dead, I—”

“He shouldn’t have tried to rob a woman.” Seonghwa’s sharp words cut me off, his grip slipping towards my chin as he grabbed me firmly, pulling my head closer to his, “He was a dangerous person, I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

Upon hearing his words I shuddered, eyes reluctantly traveling lower on his body, stopping on the black gun he held in his free hand, making me gasp, “Seonghwa, who are you—”

“I can keep you safe.” He cut me off once again, tilting my head back by my chin, our gazes meeting, “You and Arin, I can keep the both of you safe, never to worry about anything again. I can give you luxuries, vacations, anything the two of you want. Good schools, high education for Arin, whatever she’ll want in the future. I’ll give you all of that in exchange for a little something.”

I gulped, throat dry as my heart hammered against my ribcage furiously, my skin cold from the chilly air but from the lack of the adrenaline too, “What?”

My voice sounded small and afraid, but Seonghwa just smiled gently again, closing his eyes as he inhaled slowly, “Move in with me.”

“Wha-what?!” I yelped, trying to yank my head out of Seonghwa’s grip, but he held me firmly. Suddenly, he started leaning closer, making me shrink back as I was afraid he’d point the gun at me if I didn’t do what he asked of me.

“I’ve grown fond of you and Arin; I want to keep you safe.” Seonghwa explained, making my mind a jumbled mess of questions, confusion, and fright, “Did you know the father of your child has hired a detective to follow you two around? He wants to take Arin away.”

“What?!” I screwed my eyes tightly shut, head thumping from Seonghwa’s confusing words, he wasn’t making sense, “He hasn’t even been in her life, why now?”

“For money, of course.” Seonghwa sighed, tone growing colder, and I opened my eyes to find him sneering at the wall behind me, “He’s not a good man, Arin can’t fall into his hands—”

“And she won’t!” I exclaimed, gripping the collar of his leather jacket rather desperately, “How do you know all of this?!”

“I’m Park Seonghwa,” Seonghwa answered with a humoured chuckled, gripping my wrists as he removed my grip gently from his collar, “son of the chairman of Park Enterprises. You do know my family owns every nightclub in the high end of the city, right?”

I nodded, shocked to find out he was the son of the powerful Park Senior. I gulped, suddenly mulling over his words, wondering how much of it was true, “And?”

“Underground activities are much more fun than the legal ones, Y/N.” Seonghwa chuckled, bopping my nose with a gloved finger, making me flinch back, “I’m just saying…I’m the most powerful man in probably the whole country, are you sure you want to miss out on this proposal?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“You’ll trust me soon enough.” He grinned, a little wicked and devilishly handsome, then leaned down and pressed a kiss against my cheek, leaving me stunned. I averted my eyes when his gaze fell on me, and accidentally looked at the dead man. Something coiled in my stomach and I had to gulp down the bile in my throat, fighting against the nausea that warned me that I would throw up as my body started shaking again, “Don’t look at him.”

Appearing in my sight, Seonghwa gently turned my head away and smiled softly again, “Deal? For Arin?”

I gulped, realizing I was crazy for what I was about to say, “Deal, for Arin.”

Seonghwa grinned and then threw his arm around my shoulder, turning me away from the dead man as he led us back onto the main street, at least eight masked men hurrying out of a black van and inside the alleyway. Seonghwa didn’t let me look back as he clicked his tongue and ushered me towards his Mercedes Benz. I steeled my nerves and reluctantly sat inside, fidgeting in the leather seat.

“I still expect us to go on that date tomorrow.” Seonghwa said once buckled up.

“Date?” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked at him, the engine purring to life loudly.

“Did you really think it was just a casual hangout?”

“Yes.”

Seonghwa chuckled and then faced ahead, pressing play on the radio, “Have you ever been to Paris, my dear?”

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chilling-seavey · 9 months ago

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Formula 1 Masterlist

♡ Welcome to my Formula 1 masterlist! Here, we will explore and create universes together - straying far from the pit lane we know all too well to, instead, journey through new realities ♡ Comments are always incredibly appreciated and please feel free to send in questions or ideas or asks so I can write some blurbs and help keep these universes thriving! Happy reading!

George Russell

Enchanté ↳ On a brief business trip to Paris, you find yourself enamoured with this handsome stranger and the fleeting promises he offers in the city of love Desiderio ↳ It's been a year since Paris. A year since you've seen George. In the middle of the storm of a century, in another foreign city, fate sometimes works in mysterious ways.

Blue Moon Motel ↳ George has decided that his affair with you needs to end but he takes you out for one last night before saying goodbye.

Don't Worry Darling ↳ Married and thriving in an idealised community based on routine, gender roles, and arguable paradise, you and George seem to be just as perfect together as the utopia you live within - but not everything is as it seems on the surface.

Love Thy Neighbour PART ONE PART TWO ↳ It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family move into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more and more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own marriage start to come to light.

Little Bit of Luck ↳ You fly to Bahrain to surprise George before the first race of the season, giving him a bit of good luck in his driver's room before lights out.

Silence of the Mountains ↳ George decides to rent a motorhome for the Austrian Grand Prix weekend like some of the other drivers do; he's sure it'll make everything so much more convenient. Sharing the space with his trainer might be beneficial for work but certainly not when it comes to taming your insatiable appetite.

In The Middle - feat. Pierre Gasly ↳ The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night.

The Patriarchy ↳ Of course George is a feminist; but who is he to deny you when sometimes you just want him to treat you like his property.

What He Deserves ↳ George just won in Monaco and there's only one way he wants to celebrate. You wouldn't dream of saying no to his request; not when he deserved the world, and more.

Confessional ↳ George is the golden boy of the congregation and can do no wrong as the pastor’s son and purest of heart, body, and soul. You find yourself fantasizing about ruining each other's purity more than anything, although little do you know, after an unexpected fess up in the confessional booth, he’s not as innocent as meets the eye

Lessons in Love and Other Ilicit Desires (Multi-Chapter Novel) ↳ Sensible, wise, and a hopeless dreamer, Rosaline was used to men not giving her a second glance. She soon discovered it was merely those mundane college boys who were nothing more than simply intimidated by her intellect. What she needed was a man — someone who could impart knowledge beyond the Classics and guide her in discovering her own confidence as a woman. The thrill of sneaking around with the ever-so-charmingly handsome Professor Russell was certainly a bonus.

The Way It Goes (Slice of Life Blurbs) ↳ A collection of stand-alone blurbs centered around George and his growing little family in which I can use their world to purge my domestic George thoughts and daydreams.

Lando Norris

Nothing Looks the Same in the Light - feat. Oscar Piastri ↳ "I watch you breathe, I cannot sleep. I touch your hair, I kiss your skin, and hope the morning sun won’t wake you too soon [...] Nothing looks the same in the light. Only a fool like me would take to heart the things you said you meant last night."

Dreamland (Mini Series) ↳ As a flunking university student in dreary Bristol, Lando is sure there’s another life waiting for him elsewhere. A life that he can only dream of living with the girl with a million dollar career, verified instagram, and a stunning smile that he swears was created for him. But maybe those dreams stray no farther than his phone screen.

Pierre Gasly

Even out of View (WW1 Drabble) - feat. Esteban Ocon ↳ It's 1916. They were supposed to be fighting for their country, but now, with the world in peril, Esteban was to be treated as the enemy by his own people. Pierre is Esteban's nightwatch before he is executed for treason.

In The Middle - feat. George Russell ↳ The summer of 1985 had your time filled with two handsome men who, with each, you had a non-exclusive friends-with-benefits relationship. They were completely unaware of the other’s existence in your life but that’s what added to the thrill. Once you faced a few close calls where they almost discovered your cheeky little secret, you decided to lay all your cards on the table and see if you could have the best of both worlds on the same night.

#decided to separate my masterlists whoops #george russell fic #f1 masterlist #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 masterlist #formula 1 fic #lando norris fic

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planetpedri · 3 months ago

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About you — Pablo Gavi.

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x Fem!Reader

Summary: It’d been two months since Gavi asked out Lucia, two months since you’d talked to him. Two long, dreadful months. But the no contact hadn’t lasted any longer, because when the clock hit 11:40, Gavi was standing outside your door in the pouring rain, begging to talk.

Word count: 860

Disclaimer/s: this is a part two to Casual ! Angst to a hopeful ending.

A/N: this is sooo long overdue apologies..

Your house was deadly silent as you paced around, the only sound emitting throughout it was the thunder outside. Your deadline for a transfer request was in an hour, and you couldn’t make up your mind. You needed to escape, to get far away from this city. From him. But a small part of you just couldn’t make up your mind.

On one hand, the transfer to Paris gave you tons of new opportunities, but that also meant leaving all your family to live in a country you didn’t know. On the other.. that meant you could start over. Live a life free of Pablo, free of torment, and most of all, it gave you time to yourself.

As if could ever truly be free from him. As if you could ever forget him.

Twenty minutes. You had twenty minutes to accept. Hesitantly walking toward the computer, the screen shining brightly, showing the two emails you’d typed out. One accepting, the other declining.

You lick your lips, reaching toward the send button, when a knock sounds at your door. Jumping slightly, you turn around, facing the wooden door in surprise.

Without thinking, your feet move for you, dragging you toward it. Your hands too move for you, unlocking and opening the door.

In front of you is someone who’d been on your mind nonstop for years, more-so in the last few months. He was drenched from head to toe, his hoodie clinging to him as the light grey had long since turned dark. He looked like a wet puppy. How long had he been standing there?

He says your name, urgent and afraid. “Please don’t go.”

Please don’t go.

Confusion flashes across your face, how did he even find out? “What?” You choke out, heart pounding in your chest. “How—get inside. You’re going to get pneumonia.” You grumble, swinging the door wide open and stepping aside.

Pablo does as told, taking hesitant steps into the warmth of your entry way. The door had only just clicked shut when he begins to speak again, “There is so much I want to say to you, but first, I need to say i’m sorry.” He’s breathing heavily, as if he’d just run a marathon.

Mouth opening to speak, to insist he shut up, you’re the one being shut down. “No! Let me get it out! Lucia and I—we broke up. Well, she broke up with me. Said, ‘I couldn’t love her when I still clearly loved you.’ And I realized then how badly I fucked things over. Because,” he sucks in a deep breath, whispering your name like it was the most delicate thing in the world, “fuck, I love you. I love you, and i’m sorry I couldn’t admit that till I already fucked things up.”

Your mouth opens and closes for what must’ve been a hundred times, stunned by his sudden confession. “Pablo—“

“Please, don’t go to Paris. I can’t let you get away again. I need you here. I need you to stay.” His eyebrows scrunch together as he looks at you, “I need you.” He says it slowly, making sure you latched on to every syllable.

With your chest rising and falling in uneven intervals, your eyes flicker across his face. He’s desperate, like losing you would physically end him. A look only comparable to when he’d torn his ACL.

“Oh, fuck.” You groan, “oh fuck you. Why are you doing this to me? After all this time—why when i’m just about to move on. Why couldn’t you do this before I figured my shit out.”

“Because I was—I am stupid. I’m an idiot, but i’m here now. I’m here, in front of you, begging you to stay.” He pleads with his eyes, with his hands, that were twitching at his sides, trying not to hold you, with his voice.. “I’ll get on my knees, i’ll do anything. Just please, please stay.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, you try to think logically. You try to think about how much you wanted this for so long, but also how badly he’d hurt you.. Do you trust your head or your heart?

But at the end of the day, the heart always won.

“Okay.” You finally say, nodding your head slowly. “I’ll stay.” You glance at the clock on the wall a few feet away, it was 12:01. “Not like I had a choice, the deadline just passed.”

Pablo lets out a sigh of relief, one that had your eyes narrowing. “Don’t sound too upset about it.” You quip, though your voice lacked amusement.

“Sorry.” He mumbles. “So—“

“You make my life so difficult.” Grumbling, you motion for him to follow you, “you need to take a warm shower, i’ll find you something to change into. I do not want to get a cold because of you.”

With a little pep in his step, Pablo trails behind you. “Okay, so what does this mean? Am I forgiven or..”

“Well, no! But you’re getting there.” You reply simply, knowing deep down he’d been forgiven the moment he uttered those five words. ‘I love you, i’m sorry.’

I just tagged everyone who asked for a part two, apologies ^_^

DTS , @halfwayhearted @pabl0andm3 @gadriezmannsgirl @spidybaby @alexis1taylorr @htpssgavi

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #angst with a hopeful ending #blurb #fanfic #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #girl please

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gavisuntiedboot · 7 months ago

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We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

#gavisuntiedboot #gub we cant be friends #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez imagine #pedri imagine #pedri blurb #pedri gonzalez #pedri x y/n #pedri x you #pedri gonzalez one shot #pedri fanfic #footballer #football rpf #football fanfic

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cool-fancier · 10 months ago

Text

Love Among the Lights

Lisa x Fem Reader

Synopsis: As CEO of Louis Vuitton, you navigate fame and love in secrecy. When your girlfriend, Lisa, stuns at LVFW24, whispers of romance ignite.

Word Count:3.6k

Your journey to becoming the CEO of Louis Vuitton was not one of luck or happenstance but rather a culmination of years of hard work, dedication, and a relentless pursuit of excellence. It all began in the bustling streets of Paris, where you were born into a family with a deep appreciation for art, culture, and fashion.

From a young age, you were fascinated by the world of design, spending hours sketching and creating your own clothing designs. It was a passion that only grew stronger with time, fueled by your insatiable curiosity and desire to leave your mark on the world.

After completing your education in business and fashion design, you set out to make your mark on the fashion industry, determined to carve out a name for yourself in a world dominated by giants. You started small, working for various fashion houses and design firms, honing your skills and learning the ins and outs of the industry.

But it wasn't long before you realized that you were destined for something greater – something that would allow you to unleash your creativity and reshape the landscape of fashion as we know it. And so, armed with nothing but a dream and a burning passion, you set out to create your own fashion empire.

— — — — — — —

Louis Vuitton was more than just a fashion brand – it was a symbol of luxury, sophistication, and timeless elegance. From its iconic monogrammed bags to its meticulously crafted ready-to-wear collections, Louis Vuitton had become synonymous with quality and craftsmanship, attracting a loyal following of fashion enthusiasts and celebrities alike.

But as you set out to take the reins of the company, you knew that you wanted to push the boundaries of traditional fashion and usher in a new era of innovation and creativity. You envisioned Louis Vuitton as more than just a luxury brand – it was to be a lifestyle, a statement of individuality and self-expression.

With this vision in mind, you set about reimagining the brand's image, infusing it with a fresh, modern aesthetic that resonated with a new generation of fashion-forward consumers. You collaborated with renowned designers and artists, pushing the boundaries of design and blurring the lines between fashion and art.

From bold, avant-garde runway shows to groundbreaking marketing campaigns, you spared no expense in bringing your vision to life, determined to cement Louis Vuitton's status as a global fashion powerhouse.

— — — — — — —

It was at one of your annual fashion shows in Paris that you first crossed paths with Jennie, the charismatic member of Blackpink whose star was on the rise. She had been invited to attend the event as a guest, her presence a testament to her growing influence in the world of fashion and entertainment.

From the moment you met, there was an instant connection between you – a shared passion for art, culture, and of course, fashion. You spent hours discussing your respective careers and aspirations, your conversation flowing effortlessly as you exchanged ideas and insights.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Jennie in a way you had never experienced before, her intelligence and charm captivating you in ways you couldn't explain. It was as though you were kindred spirits, destined to cross paths and leave an indelible mark on each other's lives.

In the days and weeks that followed, your friendship blossomed into something more, your bond deepening with each passing day. You spent countless hours together, exploring the streets of Paris and immersing yourselves in the vibrant culture of the city.

And through it all, Jennie remained a constant source of inspiration and support, encouraging you to pursue your dreams and never settle for anything less than greatness. She believed in you when no one else did, and for that, you would be forever grateful.

— — — — — — —

It was at one of Jennie's parties that you first laid eyes on Lisa, the radiant member of Blackpink whose beauty and talent had captured the hearts of millions around the world. She had recently debuted as a solo artist, her star rising higher with each passing day.

As she mingled with the other guests, her presence commanded attention, her confidence and charisma drawing people to her like moths to a flame. You found yourself captivated by her, unable to tear your eyes away as she moved gracefully through the crowd.

You waited for the perfect moment to approach her, watching as she engaged in conversation with other partygoers. When the opportunity presented itself, you made your move, stepping in to introduce yourself.

"Hi, I'm Y/N," you said, offering her a warm smile as you extended your hand.

Lisa's eyes lit up in recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she shook your hand. "I know who you are," she replied, her voice soft and melodic. "You're the CEO of Louis Vuitton, right?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of pride at her recognition. "That's right," you said. "And you're Lisa from Blackpink. It's a pleasure to meet you."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between you, your words dancing like poetry as you talked about everything from music to fashion to your shared love of travel. It was as though you had known each other for years, your connection instant and undeniable.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, there was an undercurrent of tension between you – a silent longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both bound by the constraints of your respective careers, your relationship relegated to the shadows for fear of the consequences.

Yet, despite the risks, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards each other – a magnetic force that drew you together with a power that defied logic and reason. And as you danced around the edges of your feelings, tiptoeing around the truth, you knew that you were falling for Lisa in a way you had never thought possible.

As the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Lisa like a moth to a flame, unable to tear yourself away from her magnetic presence. And as you stood together on a balcony overlooking the city lights, your conversation taking on a more intimate tone, you knew that you had found someone special in Lisa – someone worth taking a chance on.

As you stood together on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below, the conversation between you and Lisa took on a more intimate tone. You found yourself opening up to her in a way you hadn't with anyone else, sharing stories and laughter as if you had known each other for years.

"So, tell me more about Louis Vuitton," Lisa said, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "What inspired you to become the CEO?"

You smiled, touched by her curiosity. "Well, it's always been a dream of mine to work in the fashion industry," you explained. "I've always been fascinated by the intersection of art and commerce, and Louis Vuitton represents the pinnacle of luxury and innovation."

Lisa nodded, hanging on to your every word. "That's so cool," she said. "I've always admired your work with the brand. You've really taken it to new heights."

Before you could respond, the door to the balcony swung open, and Jisoo, another member of Blackpink, stepped outside, her eyes widening in surprise as she caught sight of you and Lisa together.

"Lisa!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying across the balcony. "What are you doing out here?"

You and Lisa exchanged a knowing glance before turning to face Jisoo, trying to suppress your laughter at her over-the-top reaction.

"We're just having a little chat," Lisa replied, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Jisoo's eyes widened even further, and she gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she had just witnessed a scandalous affair.

"Oh my god, Lisa, are you flirting with Y/N?" she exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch as she turned to face the other members of Blackpink, who had gathered at the door to see what all the commotion was about.

"Guys, you won't believe this!" she called out, her voice tinged with mock horror. "Lisa's out here seducing the CEO of Louis Vuitton!"

The other members of Blackpink crowded onto the balcony, their eyes widening in surprise as they took in the scene before them. Rosé giggled uncontrollably, while Jennie shook her head in disbelief.

"Lisa, you little minx," Jennie teased, nudging her playfully. "I always knew you had a thing for powerful women."

Lisa rolled her eyes, but there was a playful glint in her eye as she turned to face you, her lips curling into a sly grin.

"Sorry about that," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "My friends can be a bit... dramatic."

You laughed, feeling a sense of warmth spread through you at the sight of Lisa's playful demeanor. Despite the teasing from her friends, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for her, grateful for the chance to spend this time together away from the prying eyes of the public.

As the night wore on, you and Lisa continued to talk and laugh together, the tension between you dissipating with each passing moment. And as you stood together on the balcony, surrounded by the laughter and camaraderie of your friends, you knew that this was just the beginning of something special between you and Lisa.

— — — — — — —

Despite your hectic schedules, you and Lisa managed to carve out precious moments to spend together. Each date was a chance to escape the pressures of work and fame, to simply enjoy each other's company without the prying eyes of the public.

You took Lisa to some of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, savoring each bite of gourmet cuisine as you talked and laughed late into the night. You explored hidden gems tucked away in the corners of the city, discovering new cafes, bookstores, and parks where you could steal quiet moments away from the chaos of the world.

On one memorable occasion, you surprised Lisa with tickets to a private concert by one of her favorite artists. The look of delight on her face as she realized where you were taking her made all the planning and secrecy worth it. As you stood together in the crowd, swaying to the music under the twinkling lights, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you, grateful for the chance to share this experience with someone as special as Lisa.

Despite the challenges of dating in the public eye, you and Lisa found solace in each other's company, stealing moments of intimacy whenever you could. Whether it was a stolen kiss in the backseat of a car or a quiet walk through the city streets hand in hand, you cherished each moment you spent together, knowing that your love was worth the risk.

As the months passed, your bond with Lisa grew stronger with each passing day. You found yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with her, unable to imagine your life without her by your side. And as you looked into her eyes, you knew that you wanted to make things official – to ask her to be your girlfriend in the most romantic and unique way possible.

One evening, as you and Lisa sat together on the balcony of your penthouse apartment, the city lights twinkling below, you felt a surge of nervous energy coursing through you. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for – the moment when you would ask Lisa to be yours in every sense of the word.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to face Lisa, your heart pounding in your chest as you prepared to pour your heart out to her.

"Lisa," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we've been seeing each other for a while now, and I've loved every moment we've spent together."

Lisa's eyes widened in surprise, a smile spreading across her face as she realized what you were about to say.

"You mean...?" she trailed off, her voice barely a whisper as she waited for you to continue.

You nodded, reaching out to take her hand in yours. "I want to make things official," you said, your voice steady despite the nerves that churned in your stomach. "Lisa, will you be my girlfriend?"

Tears welled up in Lisa's eyes as she threw her arms around you, burying her face in your chest as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled against your shirt as she held you tightly.

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her enthusiastic response. Pulling back slightly, you cupped her face in your hands, gazing into her eyes with all the love and adoration you felt for her.

"I love you, Lisa," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion.

"I love you too, Y/N," Lisa replied, her eyes shining with happiness as she leaned in to kiss you tenderly.

As you melted into each other's embrace, surrounded by the soft glow of the city lights, you knew that this was just the beginning of your love story – a story that would continue to unfold in the days, weeks, and years to come, filled with laughter, adventure, and endless moments of love and joy.

— — — — — — —

As the CEO of Louis Vuitton, you were constantly on the lookout for opportunities to expand the brand's reach and influence. You had seen the power of celebrity endorsements firsthand, and you knew that having someone as influential as Lisa as an ambassador could take Louis Vuitton to new heights.

One evening, as you and Lisa cuddled together on the couch, the soft glow of the television casting a warm light over the room, you broached the subject.

"Hey, Lisa," you began, your voice casual as you traced circles on her arm with your fingertips.

"Yeah?" she replied, her attention still focused on the screen as she snuggled closer to you.

"I was thinking," you continued, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "What would you say if I asked you to be an ambassador for Louis Vuitton?"

Lisa's head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned to look at you.

"Wait, really?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. "You want me to be an ambassador for Louis Vuitton?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of pride at her enthusiastic response. "Yeah, really," you said, your voice softening as you reached out to take her hand in yours. "I know how passionate you are about fashion, and I think you would be the perfect fit for the brand."

Lisa's face lit up with a smile as she squeezed your hand tightly. "Y/N, that's incredible," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "I would love to be an ambassador for Louis Vuitton."

You grinned, feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over you at her excitement. "Great," you said, unable to hide the smile that spread across your face. "Welcome to the Louis Vuitton family, Lisa."

As the two of you cuddled together on the couch, basking in the warmth of each other's embrace, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. Not only had you secured a valuable partnership for Louis Vuitton, but you had also brought your girlfriend into the fold, forging a connection that would only serve to strengthen your bond both personally and professionally.

— — — — — —

The Louis Vuitton Fashion Week (LVFW24) in Paris was one of the most anticipated events in the fashion world, drawing celebrities, influencers, and fashionistas from around the globe. As the CEO of Louis Vuitton, you were accustomed to the glitz and glamour of such events, but this year held a special significance for you.

Not only were you showcasing your latest collection on the runway, but you had also orchestrated a surprise for your girlfriend, Lisa, the phenomenal member of Blackpink. You had been secretly dating for about a year now, and you wanted to show her just how much she meant to you by incorporating her into the event in a special way.

As you made your way to the venue, your heart raced with excitement and anticipation. You had been working tirelessly on the new collection, pouring your heart and soul into every design, and you couldn't wait to see the reaction from the audience.

The venue was abuzz with activity as guests mingled and posed for photos on the red carpet. Cameras flashed and voices buzzed with excitement as the anticipation reached a fever pitch.

You scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face, but there was no sign of Lisa. You knew she was attending the event, but you had purposely kept her outfit a secret as part of the surprise.

Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you made your way backstage to check on the models and make sure everything was running smoothly. The energy backstage was electric, with hairstylists and makeup artists putting the finishing touches on the models' looks and designers making last-minute adjustments to the garments.

As the showtime approached, you took your place backstage, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through your veins. The music started, and the first model stepped onto the runway, setting the stage for what promised to be a breathtaking show.

One by one, the models strutted down the runway, showcasing your latest designs with confidence and grace. The audience was captivated, their eyes glued to the runway as they took in the stunning creations.

But as the show reached its climax, there was one final surprise in store. Just as the last model exited the runway, the lights dimmed, and the music changed to a familiar beat.

Suddenly, the giant screens flanking the stage lit up with images of Lisa, her face glowing with a radiant smile as she walked confidently towards the stage. The audience erupted into cheers and applause as they recognized the K-pop star, their excitement palpable in the air.

You felt a surge of pride and excitement as Lisa took her place on the runway, her presence commanding attention as she struck a pose at the end of the catwalk. She was wearing one of your designs – a stunning gown that hugged her curves in all the right places, accentuating her natural beauty and elegance.

The screams were deafening as the audience showered Lisa with adoration and praise, their excitement reaching a fever pitch as they snapped photos and videos of the iconic moment.

But amidst the chaos and excitement, there was an undeniable tension between you and Lisa – a silent acknowledgment of the intimacy and connection you shared. As you locked eyes with her from across the room, you felt a rush of emotions flood over you – love, pride, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having her in your life.

As the show came to an end, you and Lisa were ushered onto the stage for photos, the flashes of cameras lighting up the room as you posed together for the paparazzi. The chemistry between you was palpable, and fans couldn't help but notice the way you looked at each other – with love and admiration shining in your eyes.

As the night wore on, the photos and videos from the event began to circulate online, igniting a frenzy of speculation and excitement among fans. They couldn't help but notice the intimate moments between you and Lisa, and soon, social media was abuzz with rumors of your secret relationship.

But amidst the chaos and speculation, there was one thing that remained constant – the undeniable love and connection you shared with Lisa. And as you held her hand tightly in yours, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance, you knew that your love for each other was stronger than ever before.

🌟 Y/N stole the show at LVFW24 with their breathtaking collection! From runway to CEO, they're a force to be reckoned with. 🌟 #YNSlayed #LVFW24

🌟 Did anyone else notice the sparks flying between Y/N and Lisa at LVFW24? 🔥 The way they look at each other is giving us all the feels! 🥺💕 #YLisa #LVFW24

@YNCeles: Y/N absolutely killed it at LVFW24! Her designs were pure perfection, and I couldn't be prouder to be a fan! 🌟 #YNSlayed #LVFW24

@YNismine: Can we take a moment to appreciate Y/N's dedication and passion for fashion? She is truly a visionary in the industry! 🙌 #FashionIcon #LVFW24

@YNCpla: Y/N's collection at LVFW24 has left me speechless! Her talent knows no bounds, and I'm in awe of everything she creates! 🌟 #YNSlayed #LVFW24

@LISALegendary: Lisa looked like an absolute goddess at LVFW24! Her runway walk was flawless, and she owned every moment on that stage! 🌟 #LisaQueen #LVFW24

@LISAicon: Lisa's presence at LVFW24 was everything! She exudes confidence and charisma like no other, and I'm so proud to be her fan! 💖 #LisaManoban #LVFW24

@coollisa: Lisa's performance at LVFW24 was nothing short of iconic! She's a true superstar, and I'm so grateful to be able to support her! 🌟 #LisaLegend #LVFW24

@YLisaUniverse: The tension between Y/N and Lisa at LVFW24 is undeniable! 🔥 They're the ultimate power couple, and I'm here for it! 🌟 #YLisa #LVFW24

@ynandlisa: Can we talk about the way Y/N and Lisa looked at each other at LVFW24? It's like they have their own little universe! 🌌💖 #YLisa #LVFW24

@lisaisY/n’s: Y/N and Lisa are giving us all the feels at LVFW24! Their love and chemistry are off the charts, and I'm living for it! 🥺💕 #YLisa #LVFW24

Together, you and Lisa had weathered the storms of fame and fortune, emerging stronger and more united than ever before. And as you looked towards the future, you knew that there was nothing that could stand in the way of your love – not even the bright lights of Paris or the prying eyes of the world.

#blackpink x reader #blackpink x fem reader #blackpink #blackpink x fem #blackpink x you #blackpink imagines #blackpink scenarios #blackpink lisa #lisa manoban x reader #lisa manoban #blackpink fanfic #blackpink fanfiction #Lisa fanfic #lisa

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ruminiscence · 1 year ago

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Paris: A Year Abroad in a short film

Audio: "Burnt Norton" by Lana Del Rey, a rendition of the original poem "Burnt Norton" by T.S. Eliot.

Where do I even start? Paris has wholly shaped me in ways I never imagined. We refer to Paris as the city of love, but I'm now more inclined to call it the city of art - which only leaves more room for love in your heart. There is so much to contemplate and appreciate in frequenting the vast array of art museums here - from the Louvre, Musée d’Orsay, Musée de l’Orangerie, the Centre Georges Pompidou, and many more. Not only has my perspective on art expanded, but so has my worldview. That’s because art is truly everywhere in this city; art can be found in the walkable streets amidst the rich architecture, the fashionable outfits seen in daily life, and even the exquisite decor in stores and when you cheekily peek into Parisian appartments!

There's always something new to discover in Paris, I'm almost saddened at the thought of the things I've yet to discover or missed. The treasures to unveil in Paris move far beyond the typical tourist hotspots we all know and love. I am obsessed with Parisian boutiques; they are chic and unique (that unintentionally rhymed) in the best way possible. One of my favourites is La Tonkinoise à Paris, located in the 11th arrondissement. This particular arrondissmenet is the best in Paris to be honest, it holds a special place in my heart as I had the wonderful opportunity of living there, so perhaps you can say that I am somewhat biased. Still, I can confidently say that this animated, hip and creative neighbourhood is one everyone should have the chance to explore.

La Tonkinoise à Paris, owned by the lovely Chantal, is my favourite hidden gem in Paris. I had the pleasure of befriending Chantal as I ended up frequenting her store one too many times; I've garnered quite a collection over time. This boutique offers a wide range of eccentric and sustainable jewellery, with her earring creations being the show stoppers, in my opinion. Her jewellery is composed of rings, pearls, brooches, charms, and watches, all unearthed in flea markets and recycled. I love that every piece of jewellery indeed is a unique piece. The decor changes based on the season and theme of her new collections, making it an ever-changing and exciting shopping experience. This is honestly the best jewellery store I have ever been to in my life! I wish the pictures I took could do the jewellery and the boutique's decor justice, but it simply won't, I'm afraid.

Now, onto food, I genuinely need to figure out where to start here. My favourite authentic French restaurant would have to be 'Le Potager du Père Thierry', located in Montmartre. Although it's incredibly small, I love the cosy vibe; I feel like I can enjoy delicious food with friends without feeling surrounded by strangers. Surprisingly, it's also very quiet (yet packed) - I guess the food is just too distracting.

As of late, my favourite non-french restaurant has to be 'Big Black Cook' (let's ignore how inappropriate that pun is, though funny). It's located in the 2nd arrondissement and serves Caribbean food, my friend claims that it was the best meat she's had!

For brunch, I recommend Café Méricourt in the 11th arrondissement. Their green Eggs & Feta are absolutely incredible and quite innovative as far as brunch places go.

As for a boulangerie - seriously, anywhere, literally anywhere in Paris, go to your nearest bakery; there need not be a big fuss - you're in for a scrumptious baked treat regardless!

I'm ever so grateful for the chance to have lived in Paris for an extended period; you cannot appreciate Paris in its entire splendour from a mere short-term visit. The city is an actual work of art; art is everywhere in the city, from the street performers and musicians, the light filters through the trees, the city's many architecturally rich bridges, the picturesque cafés and boulangeries, the beautifully presented food, the way that the city's many different neighbourhoods each have their own distinct character and vibe. In Paris, art is everywhere.

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worseforwords · 2 years ago

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Barcelona Beginnings (Ona Batlle x Reader)

So, I decided to write a sequel to the Manchester Meet-cute/ Memories story after all. However, it takes place 4 years after the initial encounter. I recommend you read the other parts first. You can find them here: part 1, part 2

“Y/N/N!” A familiar voice called from behind you. You quickly turned around “Ames!” You screamed as your best friend practically jumped into your arms, almost making you fall over. “I am loving the Barcelona weather already!” She exclaimed as she pulled away. “Better than Paris?” You asked. “Yeah it’s been cloudy for weeks. That’s not what they told us when we decided to move there you know. City of light my ass.” She scoffed as you chuckled at her. “Still the city of love though I hope. How’s Lewis?” “Great, I have some news actually.” She looked at you excitedly. “We’re going to try to make a baby!”

How did this happen? How was Amy suddenly becoming the adult between the two of you? Somehow, the random fling your friend ditched you for 4 years ago, was now her husband, and they were ever so happy, living together in Paris. You actually liked Lewis a lot, and you were happy for them, but damn, how did this happen?

“Oh my god, Ames, that’s amazing! I’m sure you’ll be great parents.” “And think about how hot our children will be!” She said, referring to the fact that they were both absolute 10s, which you could not disagree with. “Okay so enough about me. How’ve you been? I’ve received significantly less midnight anxiety calls, so I assume you’re doing slightly better?” “Yeah, I am. I’ve made some friends, work has been better. I feel like I’m finally starting to fit in.”

Contrary to Amy, you hadn’t particularly been thriving, but you were certain it was for the best. You had moved to Barcelona about 2 months ago, completely leaving behind the life you had built, for a career opportunity. You left your job, your house, your family, but the worst part was ending your relationship of 3 years. Your first two weeks in Barcelona you had been miserable. You were heartbroken and all on your own in a new city where you barely spoke the language. The only thing getting you through your sorrow, were your daily FaceTime calls with Amy. You had slowly built yourself back up, forcing yourself to go out and enjoy the Catalan sun, and all the city had to offer. So you were truly doing better, day by day.

“That’s good to hear Y/N/N. Now, where can we get some of that delicious Spanish wine around here?” “Jesus Ames, it’s 10 in the morning, how about a coffee first?” You giggled, happy she was still the Amy you knew and loved.

After dropping Amy’s stuff off at your place, you walked into a nearby coffeeshop where you had become a regular these past months. “Hola Martí” “Y/N! Bon dia, the usual?” The barista asked. “Sí, and a cappuccino for my friend, please.” You answered. These past months, Martí had been a ray of sunshine in your life, even when your head was too cloudy to enjoy the actual Barcelona sunshine. “Here you go, princesa.” He said as he handed you your coffees. “Merci”

Amy had already claimed the loungeset in the corner. You started walking over there, when you realised you forgot to grab a cookie. As you turned around, you saw some people coming through the door from the corner of your eye, one of whom was approaching the bar at a dangerous pace. Time stood still for a moment as you couldn’t help but flash back to a very similar moment 4 years ago in a coffeeshop in Manchester. You knew better this time, so you swiftly moved your arms out of the way, spilling only a little coffee on yourself. The speedy individual could only just dodge you, causing a quick breeze in your face, lightly fluttering your hair. You stood there for a second, catching your breath, looking at the fresh coffee stain on your white shoe. You thought everything was supposed to be tranquilo in Spain, but apparently not for everyone. “You should watch where y-” “Y/N!?” There was no way, it couldn’t be her. You immediately looked up, to be met with the same gorgeous pair of hazel eyes you just saw in your flashback, 4 years and they hadn’t changed one bit. “No way, Ona!?” You both stood there for a minute, looking at each other in total awe, before falling into a tight embrace. “We have to stop meeting like this.” You joked, to which Ona giggled. “Are you stalking me now, Y/N?” She chuckled, to which your face instantaneously turned red, as you knew exactly what she was referring to.

When you first got to Barcelona, you spend a lot of time on social media, in search of some kind of distraction. One day, whilst mindlessly scrolling through instagram, you came across photo of Ona holding some kind of trophy with some of her FC Barcelona teammates. She had transferred to Barcelona not long after you left Manchester, which you knew, but you never made an effort to meet up with her since you had moved. You slightly frowned when you recognised the girl to her right: her girlfriend, hence your decision not to contact her. A mixture of curiosity and boredom caused you to go to her profile and scroll down to 4 years ago, around the time the two of you met. Oh how you cursed at instagram for still not having changed the double tap feature, when your thumb accidentally slipped and you unintentionally liked a photo from 4 years ago. You immediately undid your action and contemplated just deleting your account all together. But then you realised she had half a million followers, so you prayed your blunder would just go unnoticed. But it didn’t, apparently.

“I live right around the corner actually.” You said quickly, hoping to avoid having to explain your instagram antics. “Wait, you live here?In Barcelona?” She asked, her face expressing both excitement and confusion. “Yeah, I do. Just moved here two months ago.” An awkward silence ensued as you started feeling guilty for not contacting her. “Y/N/N, who’s this?” Amy, who apparently left the loungeset, interrupted the somewhat painful stares between the two of you. “Hi, I’m Ona” Ona smiled. Amy seemed to recognise that name, because she waited a while before responding, looking at the both of you with narrowed eyes as if investigating. “Hold up,” she finally spoke “are you THE Ona, from the magical Manchester lovestory!?” The both of you turned red at her loud outcry, immediately looking at anything but each other. “I’m Amy, by the way.” She said, slightly smirking. “Nice to meet you Amy.” Ona said as a slight smile reappeared on her face. “Oh wait.” The smile quickly turned in to a look of pure shame. “Yes, I’m that Amy, creditcard Amy.” Amy laughed out loud at the furious glances you sent her way. “Yeah, sorry about that” Ona giggled awkwardly. “Alright, I’ll just be over there.” Amy walked back to the loungeset, still audibly giggling about the whole situation.

“Sorry about her.” You said when she was far enough away. “That’s okay,” Ona smiled “after all, I did convince you to steal her money.” Both of you chuckled at the memory. “I’m actually kind of in a hurry though, so I have to run now.” She said, apologetically. “But let’s hang out sometime, to properly catch up.” She quickly hugged you again before grabbing a coffee to go and heading out again. You highly suspected that she just said that last part as a courtesy, so you chose not to contact her and instead wait for her to reach out.

You spend the rest of the day showing Amy around your new neighbourhood. It felt great to have your best friend by your side again, and the two of you truly had a blast, even though she repeatedly teased you about the uncomfortable interaction from earlier that day. You hardly touched your phone all day, so when you got home at the end of the day, you had a few notifications.

Mom❤️: How are you dear? Remember to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also tell Amy I said hi. Call soon?

Martí☕: Tomorrow we have your favourite carrot cake again!

Loser bro💩: Hey sis, mom told me to tell you to wish uncle Dan a happy birthday. Also you stink, I can smell you from here. Kinda miss u tho lil bit, BUT U STINK🤢

You chuckled at your screen. When you scrolled down you saw an instagram notification from Ona. You opened it right away, thinking she might want to meet up after all, but it wasn’t a message.

[ona.batlle has liked your photo]

You were a little confused, because you hadn’t posted anything recently, but when you clicked on it you saw that it was a photo from 4 years ago. You quietly chuckled to yourself at her teasing. You saw she was online, so you decided to message her about it, to which she immediately replied.

You: Who’s stalking who exactly? 😏

Ona: Guess were even now 🙃

Ona: Although you did move to my city..

You: Fair enough

Even though the conversation was very short, it still made up for some of the awkwardness from earlier, and it brought a wide smile to your face. The latter dit not go unnoticed by Amy, who discreetly approached you from behind to then snatch your phone out of your hand and see what made you grin like that. “AMES! Give that back!” “Oooo, sliding into her DMs now are we?” You chased her trough your apartment until she finally had to catch a breath and you took the opportunity to grab your phone out of her hands. You both sat back down on the couch as Amy looked at you expectantly. “Sooooo-” “Shut up.” You cut her off. “What? The stars have finally aligned for you two! You live in the same city with neither of you planning to move and you both clearly like each other. Like come on, Y/N/N, let romance win for once!” “Except they haven’t.” you mumbled. “Sorry?” “The stars, they haven’t aligned. She has a girlfriend.” You said sharply, your voice cracking. “Oh. I’m sorry Y/N/N.” She said softly, pulling you into a tight hug.

The next day Amy cooled it significantly with the Ona teasing. She had clearly already moved on as she tried to set you up with every random person you met during the day. It led to some rather humiliating interactions, but you had fun nonetheless, and you had to admit it was nice to take your mind of things. Towards the end of the day however, you received a message that brought your mind right back to were it had been most of yesterday. It was from Ona. She forwarded you a post, with a smirk face next to it. You clicked on it to find a promo for a Lion King musical revival. You felt your heart rate accelerate slightly. You didn’t know how to respond, so you chose to go with a safe option and just replied with the same smirk emoji.

Ona: Sooo is that a yes?

You: Was there a question?

Ona: You are impossible.

Ona: Do you want to go?

You: Sorry :)

You: It sounds amazing, I would love to go.

Ona: Are you free tonight?

“Ames?” You called out. “What’s up?” She came running from the kitchen. “Would it be okay if I left you alone for a bit tonight?” She audibly gasped. “Depends, why?” She asked, a smirk started to grow on her face as she had a hunch what this could be about. “Ona may have asked me to go see the Lion King revival.” You mumbled. “Yes, YES, a thousand times YES! Romance is in the air! I’ll book a hotel so you can have this place all to yourself and you know, bring her home afterwards.” The smirk on her face grew even wider. “She still has a girlfriend Ames. This is just a friend thing.” “Are you sure about that? Maybe you should actually ask her. I mean it’s the Lion King for fucks sake, the LION KING Y/N/N. Can you feel the love tonight, because I can!” As she kept on rambling for a while, your focus went back to your phone.

You: Tonight it is :)

Ona: Great, it’s a date ;)

“Y/N? What’s up?” Amy said, noticing your flustered expression and the blush spreading across your face. “She said, and I quote: it’s a date.” “IT’S A DATE!” Amy exclaimed, as she pulled you off the couch to dance around the room, sending kissy faces your way and you couldn’t help but giggle at her antics. “Wait. We have to get you ready! What to wear, what to wear!?” She started running around frantically, like the true drama queen she is.

You met up with Ona at the theater about an hour later. “Hi.” she said, with a shy smile on her face. “Hi.” You replied. “Sorry again about yesterday. It was all just a little weird.” “So you felt that too huh?” She said, looking slightly relieved. “I guess it had just been a while.” “Yeah, I guess.” The conversation fell quiet as you stood in line waiting to get your tickets scanned. “It’s still a little awkward isn’t it?” She finally asked. “Yes it is.” You admitted, and you both chuckled quietly. The truth was, you weren’t quite sure how to act around her. You had only ever been flirty with her, but now she had a girlfriend, so you tried your very best to just be friendly. The fact that she (presumably jokingly) called it a date however, did not make acting platonic any easier.

“Do you want to get a drink first?” She asked once you were both inside. “Yes please.” You answered, hoping it might take the edge off things. Ona ordered two glasses of wine and then sat down on a bench, waiting for you to join her. You sat down next to her, and immediately noticed her eying the obvious gap you left between the two of you. Everything you seemed to do in an attempt to not make her uncomfortable, seemed to make things so much more awkward and therefore make her even more uncomfortable. Maybe going out with her was a mistake. Even though it had been 4 years, there was just something about her that made you want to jump her bones right then and there. That could never happen though, so here you were, repressing everything you felt for her. Ona seemed to have noticed your mind had started to spiral, as she carefully put her hand on your shoulder to make you look at her instead of your feet. “Hey, Y/N, remember: Hakuna Matata.” Butterflies crept up your stomach as you let her words sink in. Thankfully the theater bell went, signalling that the show was about to start, because you must have been staring at her with obvious heart eyes for way too long.

The musical was incredible. The music, the costumes, the decor, everything was executed to perfection. At one point Ona put her hand on the armrest in between you, ever so slightly caressing your hand that had already been on there. You had been tempted to move your hand closer to hers, but instead you pulled it away. Apart from that moment the musical had been a welcome distraction. When the curtain closed, you both remained in your seat for a bit, recovering from the spectacle you had just witnessed. “Want to take a walk so we can properly catch up?” She finally asked.

As you walked the beautiful streets of Barcelona by night together, you successfully made small talk, catching up on each others lives. You were proud of the comfortable platonic atmosphere you finally seemed to have created, when she suddenly stopped in her tracks. “I need to show you something.” She said. You turned around to look at her and she pulled out something from under the collar of her shirt. It was the golden necklace with the little lion on it you had left her back in Manchester. She still had it. You just looked at her, too stunned to speak. All your efforts to keep things friendly and suppress your feelings and here you were, heart beating like a maniac. “You still have that?” You asked quietly, taking a step forward to take the little lion in your hand and have a closer look at it. You looked back up and there was a moment when your noses almost touched. You looked into her eyes and you were sure you caught her looking at your lips for a second. You immediately realised you were standing way to close, and quickly backed away heart still racing uncontrollably. “Ona, I erm- I think I should go home.” You said. “Oh, okay.” She said, suddenly staring at the pavement, disappointment clear in her voice. You went in to give her a quick hug when she looked at you and asked softly: “Did I do something wrong?” “No, no, of course not. I’m just not feeling very well, sorry.” You hastily hugged her goodbye and turned around to walk away, not wanting her to spot your eyes tearing up.

“Oh no, you’re back way too soon.” Amy said from the couch when she heard you enter your apartment. “Y/N/N, you okay?” She asked when you didn’t respond. You still didn’t answer, instead you just plopped down next to her as she opened up her arms for you to cuddle up against her. “That bad huh?” You nodded. You enjoyed the comfort of your best friends arms for a while before she sat you up straight. “Want to tell me what happened?”

You recounted all the events of the night as you sniffled softly in between sentences. “Y/N/N,” Amy said when you were done “she was very clearly coming on to you. This is in no way platonic.” “Well I don’t know what to tell you Ames, she has a girlfr-” “Does she? Doesn’t sound like it. And if she does I’m not sure they are in a good place right now.”

A couple of days went by without any form of contact between you and Ona. Luckily you had Amy by your side the whole time to distract you from spiralling about the whole situation you brought onto yourself. Unfortunately, she eventually had to go back to her life in Paris, to make a family or whatever, so you dropped her off at the airport and hour before her flight. “Damn it.” She said as you walked into the airport together. “3 hour delay.” “That means I get to spend 3 more hours with you!” You cheered. “What do you want to do first? People-watching? Eat a whole Toblerone? Go plane spotting?” You suggested. “You don’t have to stay you know.” She giggled. “No I want to. It’ll be fun!” “Alright then, I’m going to find a toilet. You find us a nice people-watching spot.” You sat down at the bench with the best view of the airport hallway and pulled out your phone to scroll through instagram. You came across a picture of Ona at a restaurant with her teammates. Without thinking too much about it you liked the post. Hardly ten seconds past before you got a notification. A message from Ona.

Ona: Hey

You: Hi

Ona: Can we maybe talk?

You: Sure

Ona: Like in person

You: When?

Ona: Now?

You were too busy staring at your phone when Amy suddenly hit your shoulders from behind, making you jump in your seat. “Your doing people-watching all wrong.” She joked. You hastily put your phone away. “What was that?” Amy asked, upon noticing your secretive behaviour. “Nothing.” “Y/N/N, don’t do this again. What’s going on?” “She asked if we can talk, like now.” You admitted. “Just go.” Amy said. “No, no, I can’t just leave you alone here, I-” “Y/N. Y/M/N. Y/L/N. I refuse to stand in the way of true love. Please go talk to her.” She said dramatically. “You sure?” “Yes! Now go!” You pulled Amy into a tight embrace and thanked her for everything. After a while she pulled away and pushed you towards the exit. “Stop wasting time, go get your girl!”

You sat at the edge of your couch, fidgeting with your bracelet when the ringing of the doorbell had you suddenly shoot straight up. Upon opening your front door you saw Ona, but you weren’t met with the usual cute smile. Instead her face portrayed a both nervous and somber expression.

“Hi”

Part 4 out now!

#ona batlle #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso #muwfc x reader #espwnt x reader

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venusorbits · 2 years ago

Text

DOUBLE TAKE | CHAPTER ONE

pairing ; cho gue sung ( 조규성 ) x female! supermodel! british-asian! reader

summary ; You have been invited once again to the Korean TV programme 'I Live Alone' alongside the World Cup Heartthrob, Cho Gue Sung ( 조규성 ). Simple guests, who had to take double takes from each other, who could have seen it coming? No one was. Certainly, neither were the both of you.

genre ; romance, fluff, established relationship ( by second chapter cause i hate writing slow burn, i like reading them though ), angst.

masterlist

❝if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse 'cause you're gorgeous it actually hurts.❞

You began your stardom career at the mere age of 17 years after an agent saw your photos posted through social media. The said photo was the cause of the tumbling domino effect, igniting and bursting into bold bright orange flames, into dipping your toes into the window of opportunity and universe of high fashion, colourful red carpets and long hallways of runways.

You were on your own. You were no kid, anymore. You’re moving onto big girl things like moving to the big city; flashing lights, fast-paced times, overwhelming anxiety-filled environment, big mysteries and savouring new moments. Tom Ford, catapulted your career further way beyond the horizon.

Chest squeezing. Heart thumping. Bright lights. Everyone’s attention turned to you— the clicks of their cameras. Gaze is fixed on the end of the runway. Conscious of your steps. God, you felt awkward. With the slight rock and sway of your hips, this movement didn’t come naturally as the other models did. You felt tiny. How were you supposed to showcase the intricately designed clothing when they might be snickering about how you walk?

A fellow model reassured you, ‘There was no such thing as perfection when you’ve only begun..’

Fake it till you make it they say. Well, years have passed at the age of 22, and you are now one of the most recognisable faces in the industry. You’ve walked for many runways on endless fashion weeks, been on the cover of Vogue, Elle, Harpers Bazaar, the face of Versace, representative of Swarovski and many more. Some even dare say, up and coming It Girl. You’ve accomplished a lot, all on your own.

Though, one unexpected thing came into your life, living in Seoul, South Korea. The thought never crossed your mind once. But you came to South Korea for a photo shoot with Vogue Korea back in 2019. Needless to say, you fell in love with the culture, the country’s generous and kind residents, the language, the atmosphere and — Well, obviously, the city itself. You have dedicated learning the language and culture in order to live smoothly and in harmony.

It was difficult having to fly out to New York thousands of miles away, the epicentre of jobs and Fashion Week. But, what can you say? You were used to it. Hopping onto planes needing to be somewhere by Friday? Oh, London Fashion week ends on this day but, Paris starts that day. No worries. It was painfully exhausting but that’s the life of a Supermodel.

Your life in Seoul didn’t change much. Though this time you’re receiving twice the jobs than you did before, many Korean designers have reached out to you to model for the clothing they have designed such as Rok Hwang, Eudon Choi, the duo Byungmun Seo and Jina Um and finally, Youngae Lee and Happly for their project ‘Hanbok Wave’. Not only were you attracting attention in the fashion industry but it extended to the entertainment industry, you’ve been invited to many varieties of shows to be featured in.

As your schedule began to fizzle down, you found the time to film for the TV programme you were featured in ‘I live Alone’. Dressed all chic and feminine, opting for the chunky loafers with a pair of long white socks instead of your Versace heels. Your hair is all done so beautifully. Smiling so brightly at all the familiar faces and jogging up to them for a quick embrace. A light chatter followed along with it, ‘how are you?’, ‘I’ve been doing well’, ‘It’s nice to see you again’. Strings of compliments flowed through.

“안녕하세요. I’m (First name).” You greet the man. Undeniably gorgeous, you couldn’t even focus much on what he was saying as he reaches in for a handshake, he introduces himself as—

“안녕하세요, 조규성.” The beautiful angel marks dotted all over his face like starry stars across the wide peaceful sky. But, goddamn, he’s so bright like the sun and his beauty is also so blinding it hurts. His beautiful carved nose and the sharp angles of his jaw, high prominent cheekbones. Everything about him was a piece of art. He’s a delicate and classic painting deserving to be in a museum.

Heartbeat was skipping across the street.

Filming starts at any second now and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. The soft fluffy brush glides across your face for the final touch-ups. Unbeknownst to you, Gue Sung also had to take a double take also stealing sweet glimpses, you had an addicting kind of beauty. It was much more than a drug. The kind of one that makes Aphrodite green as envy and red as rage. Eyes trail to every detail of your face. The way your eyes brighten as you joke lightly with your makeup artist.

“Please everyone get ready! Filming will start in 10!”

That was months ago. Time flies quickly; your home became littered with traces of him. He was everywhere you looked, in every corner, you breathed him. Gue Sung has now integrated well and was a part of your being. You have made space in your extensive closet just for him, he has his very own mug for his coffee in the morning, framed photo of you together on your bedside table, his own toothbrush and his very own corner for all the things he leaves.

Those months spent together have nothing been but elated, fondness and love. You have never been this happy, your whole entire life, you have never expected for him to come into your life at such an unexpected time. But, you thank God every day.

The sound of the familiar beeps and the sound of the front door opening echoed in your small apartment.

“자기야, I’m home!”

Immediately, you tossed your phone aside, jumped off the sofa and came barreling. Gue Sung was kicking off his shoes as he slips his face mask off, he puts his bag down and his arm stretched out wide open. No hesitation, you crashed right into his warm loving embrace.

“Hi.” You mumbled nuzzling your face into the side of his neck and inhaling his scent. He awkwardly shuffles with you still practically glued onto him and clung onto him like a koala bear, Gue Sung peppers your temples and hairline with kisses. Running his hands up and down your back. You only snuggled further onto his neck tightening your grip around his large frame.

“Did you miss me?” He whispers softly voice dripping in honey, you pull away enough so, you could stare deeply into his eyes, and you rest your head on his shoulder. Gue Sung couldn’t resist but placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“Not even a little bit.” You tease, poking your tongue out at him playfully.

“Oh? I know you did. You can’t even think about not having me by your side that’s why you asked for my number when we first met.” Not exactly a lie but, not exactly the complete truth either. You gasped dramatically,

“I don’t appreciate you lying about my name like that.”

Gue Sung hums.

“Did you eat yet?” You asked.

“No. I knew you were waiting for me.” It tendered your heart.

“Let’s go eat then. I’m sure you’re starving.” However, Gue Sung didn’t want to let go, his grip on you only tightened squeezing you against his torso. No matter how many times, you brush his arms away it would always ends up back circling around your waist.

“What? I can’t set the table if we’re like this.” You laugh light-heartedly,

“Have you always been this pretty?” Gue Sung almost coos, “우리이쁜자기 ( My pretty baby ).”

“Go take a shower! You stink.” You ushered him away towards the bathroom. Your ear pick up the sound of water splashing, you move around the kitchen, hands everywhere all at once to get the food reheated, plated and on the table before Gue Sung gets out of the shower.

It has been a long day for him, you’re sure. You take upong yourself to sit while you await for your beloved, occupied by your mobile phone. Food all laid out on the table; all simple and quick whipped up meal, thankfully your boyfriend was no picky eater. He enjoyed a variety of dishes and scarfed everything down with gusto… Except meat. He’s particular about how it should be done. Not long after, he emerges from the shower.

You held out your hand for him to hand the towel. It’s a unspoken ritual at this point; he sits down and you dry off his hair. There was something weirdly intimate about it. Running the soft towel through his damp hair. Once his hair is relatively dry, you carded your fingers through his hair brushing it off his forehead, slicking it back. He lets out a sigh of relief and softens under your tender touch.

You were so deeply lost in your task, you fail to notice Gue Sung’s blatant fond, affectionate and loving stare. He admires everything that you are from your head and down to your toe. He likes everything that you do to him.

“What?” You ask with a stupid smile on your face leaning to his level.

“Nothing.” Gue Sung shook his head.

He cups your face peppered kisses. From your forehead. Eyes. Nose. Cheeks. Finally on your lips.

One love, one house.

#cho gue sung fluff #cho gue sung fanfic #cho gue sung imagines #cho gue sung x reader #south korea nt #cho gue sung #조규성 #cho gue sung ff #[ venusorbits 🪐 double take series ]

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cialovesklopp · 2 years ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ➺ k.mbappé

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — when your whole career is crashing down, one finds out that tequila and an unknown man become your best friends.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — kylian mbappé x amara imani (oc)

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 6.6k

mon amour — masterlist

where did it all go wrong? amara imani truly didn’t know. her life went from a fairy tale to a nightmare in the span of a few weeks, and now she was back where she started. nowhere.

how could she have gone from loving her life so much and being proud of the person she had become and all that she had achieved to having to hide herself within the four wall of her apartment and not being able to recognise her own reflection.

everyday another new version came out, the same story just with a different title and a little bit further from the truth than it was before. all about the same cheating scandal she witnessed unfold with her very own eyes. yet she never saw it coming.

some could say love made her blind. no, it didn’t. it made me stupid amara thought. now all that so-called love had left to offer her was a broken heart and a shattered reputation. and she cursed love with every fiber of her being for realizing that she had been played by an below average man for the last two years.

hiding in paris hadn’t actually been her original plan but after having to cancel her tour, she had thought that in the french city, people wouldn’t recognize her as much as they did in the usa. she had thought wrong. paparazzi in paris were just as ruthless as they had been in new york and los angeles. even in paris, she wasn’t able to hide her face and get a break from all the drama without being blinded by flashing lights everyday.

amara had been lucky that grace had some extended family in the french capital that had been nice enough to let the singer stay in their modest cottage apartment till the newspapers and celebrity magazines stopped twisting the narrative to make amara look like the villain in her own relationship.

was amara hurt by her boyfriend cheating? not really. she grew up in a third world country where there was a lot more to worry about than a boy breaking your heart. it was her dignity and ego that was screaming pain.

he could have done it privately, spare her the humiliation and stress of the whole world finding out at the same time as she did. she would have preferred finding their text or photos - it would have hurt less. but no, he wanted to leave a mark before he left.

he cheated on her with the same person he told her not to worry about. her insecurities and jealousy fits were all in vain as it was always about her. and left amara wishing she had listened to her gut.

nearly two years gone. text messages he had sent her were still saved in her phone even though she had blocked his number. the good moments were forgotten and only the bad ones remain.

at least in this little bar she had been offered her peace. the small vintage club was located a little bit more outside of paris, meaning only locals know about it. amara had instantly fallen in love with it as soon as it caught her eye. the flowery design and plants that decorated the outside along with comfy armchairs and small coffee tables made it perfect for amara’s much needed self-care day. what she loved the most about it though was how by night, the dreamy cafe turned into a night bar yet still was filled with comfy, modest glow. le claire de la lune always knew how to cheer her up.

she lost count of how many she had downed but it was clear that she had passed the tipsy stage. it was an average day, with clouds blocking the sun of paris, and yet even with the cool air hit her, she still felt a fuzzy type of warm due to all the alcohol flowing through her system.

the chances that someone recognized her in this small bar were low, yet she still refused to take any risks and opted to leave her sunglasses on. she gratefully reached for the drink she had ordered, flashing the waiter one of her famous red-carpet smiles. sipping on her drink, she went through her phone but stayed away from her social media. checking the time again, she looked on her phone for any new messages and yet everything looked the same as she had left it fifteen minutes ago.

are you still coming?

so sorry, don’t think i will be. it’s better if we don’t meet up now.

so you’re ditching me?

with everything that’s going on at the moment with you, i think it’s better if we hold our distance

don’t call me ever again

“asshole” she muttered, putting her phone away again. why couldn’t anything go to plan, she cursed, finishing her drink in one shot. the only thing that never disappointed her, tequila.

ordering another drink, she failed to notice the dark brown eyes that lingered on her. it was clear to everyone around her that she was past the normal stage of drunk. if she drank any more, she would pass out sure enough. but amara didn’t care anymore.

she used to. but now she couldn’t be asked. she was past the point of always carrying herself, her own image while evan got to do whatever he wanted because he was a millionaire heir. but she also didn’t see the point anymore in caring. everyday that went by, her reputation got dragged deeper into mud by every news article - everyone was making money off her, except herself.

she took her sunglasses off, dragging her hands down her face in frustration. she wanted to cry. but like ariana grande had said, there were no tears left to cry. she was drained. she had cried it all out after she found out her boyfriend cheated on her publicly. and the stress of having to cancel her tour because of a mental breakdown didn’t make it any better. she didn’t have tears anymore to cry.

“it’s not fair,” she muttered drunkenly. the bartender watched her helplessly, not really sure what to do with her. at her request of filling her glass, he complied, preferring to just do his job and not meddle into his customer’s life.

“can i help you?”

amara jumped slightly which caused her to lose her balance and grab the stranger’s arm to find stability. she truly could not hold her drinking sometime. she let go of the unknown man’s arm, mustering him strangely. he was handsome, that could be said.

“if you can give me back my self-esteem and my reputation then yes, but since i doubt. no you can’t.”

she stood up swiftly in a rash movement but this time her legs did not obey, with the amount of alcohol she had drunk and gave out under her. to her luck, the man had put his arms around her waist, catching her quickly before she could land on the cold floor.

“i’m kylian,” he introduced himself, placing her carefully on the chair next to him. “and i really doubt i could help you with that but my mother always told me, sometimes even only listening is helpful.”

amara’s eyebrows furrowed, confusion appearing on her face. who was this man? and why was he so nice to her? she thought about leaving but some of her dignity was still left — and losing it in front of a stranger was not in her plans so she sat quietly next to him.

“i heard what you said earlier. about something not being fair. do you want to talk about it?”

she rolled her eyes, not even bothering to acknowledge him. she couldn’t lie, he was attractive and handsome, but the alcohol was clouding all her judgment. if she still had her reputation, she would have probably asked him out or flirted with him, but right now — honestly, all she could feel was annoyance and tiredness.

“don’t you have anything else to do instead of bothering me?”

he chuckled, shrugging carelessly. “well, i was here with my friend but he kind of dumped me because he found someone more entertaining than my company.” he pointed with his finger to a black man, currently flirting — that’s what it seemed like in amara’s perspective — with a brunette woman. amara had seen her here when she had come in.

she laughed and held out her hand, waiting for him to grab it. he seemed surprised at her swift mood changement but nevertheless, accepted her handshake. “welcome to the club of being dumped. i got dumped twice in the span of two weeks.”

her last sentence must have probably lit a light in kylian’s head, seeing his expression change. it must have been dark from her side perspective and the moment she had turned to his, the light fell down completely on her, making her immediately recognizable.

“je suis désolé pour ce qui c’est passé.” the footballer replied solemnly, falling back into his native language. but that didn’t bother amara — it had been too long since she had spoken french, a part of het missed speaking it. “ you didn’t deserve that.” — i am sorry for what happened

his words seemed sincere. a change from all the things that she had heard or been spoken to. she had to watch all the people, who she had considered friends, drop her as quick as she could count just because they deemed their images more important than her. it had truly been a stab in the back.

he didn’t have to say it out loud for them to know what he was referring too. after all, one would have to live behind the moon to not have heard from the whole imani-henderson scandal. one, that seemed to get worse from day to day. “guess you kinda caught me. yes, it’s me, amara imani hiding from the world and getting black-out drunk. what’s there to save anyway.” she exclaimed desperately, shrugging her shoulders, "everybody's talking and talking behind my back. they have no idea how i feel at the moment... a few months ago he acted like he planned on proposing and the moment i go on tour our couple falls and he cheats on me with that brunette nepo-baby that probably never had to work for anything in her life. and to top it all off, they have the audacity to destroy the very thing i hold closest. it’s not fair.”

her voice broke down and she probably sounded a bit watery but as said, she had no tears to cry anymore. pain and hurt outweighed sadness and anger. her reflex made her want to grab her glass but she remembered she had already finished it. she stared at her reflection, lifeless, black eyes staring back at her.

kylian had been in many situations but dealing with a fellow a-list celebrity who was drunk had never been one. as much as he wanted to help, he did not know what to do. especially because he knew that if it was him in that situation, he would have probably wanted to be left alone. but he also couldn’t get himself to leave her like this here -- he preferred to stay.

“why is being a celebrity so hard? it used to be my dream, inspiring people like me that the world is open to them. and look where i am now?” she questioned rhetorically, “ i’m the one who got cheated on. i deserve to be the scorned woman but instead i’m turned into an animal at the zoo, the paparazzi will turn their flashlight on at any chance they get. i’m human too.”

she sighed heavily but for some reason it felt good. ranting to someone about her life -- to someone she didn’t know and who didn’t hold any expectations on her. except for her mother, no one really knew how she felt, no matter how many people tried to put themselves into her situation.

“it’s crazy how much i understand you.” he revealed after a moment of silence, “sometimes the media put things about me in the press, i didn’t even know about myself. i remember how hard it was after i chose to stay in paris. they were literally tearing me apart.”

“but i’m sure you didn’t run away and hide from the world till your pr-manager tells you it's safe again, did you? that route is only reserved for amara imani because she apparently destroyed a relationship.” amara commented dryly. a lump formed in her throat, her stomach feeling heavy because of their topic. she swiftly ordered another drink although she had promised herself to stop the drinking. she was way past drunk.

his body hesitated but he still placed his hand on hers. she relaxed immediately at the sensation — his hand extended warmth and the feeling of heat spread instantly through her body. “i can assure you it’s not the end of it. you will shine again.” he tried to lift her up and removed his hand, amara’s hand still vibrating from the contact.

a soft smile spread on her lips, probably the first since days; a true genuine smile and it was to a stranger she had known for about twenty to thirty minutes. again, she finished her drink in one big sip and placed the glass down before starting to collect her things.

“it was very nice talking to you but i need to leave.” she murmured melancholy. tiredness was also an effect alcohol had on her. instead of making her all energetic and giddy, even the strongest vodka only made her tired. emotions would be running through her body on their highest, with very sensible hormones to the point it tired her out and she passed out from sleep. “i don’t know what I’m still doing here.”

“you are way too drunk to leave now. you can’t even manage to stand up alone.” he objected, raising his eyebrow. it was true, the only reason she had even been able to stand up and call the waiter, was due to her gripping the marble counter with her hand firmly.

“i will be fine. you don’t have to worry.”

“i don’t think my conscience could sleep if i let you home like that.”

“like i said, you don’t have to worry about me.” she reassured him, letting out a chuckle that came out more like a yawn. if she didn’t leave any minute, her body would not hold out on her. “at worst case, if something should happen to me, you’ll read about it first thing in the morning because it will be plastered everywhere.”

laughing lightly at her own joke, amara’s heart lightened as she saw kylian’s face turning from creased with concern to graced with a bright smile as he laughed at her. she scanned his face, taking in every detail of his face, memorising it all as if she was about to take a test on it. she was truly scared, she would forget it all tomorrow.

she immediately noticed the two small dips on either of his face that connected to his smile. amara didn’t know whether they were dimples or not but she couldn’t care less in this moment. all that mattered at the moment was that he was smiling which made her face loosen as a smile fought its way onto her lips too.

he stood up from his stool and reached forward to take amara’s purse. “come on, i’ll bring you home.”

“firstly, you don’t have to and secondly you don’t even know where i live.”

he waved dismissively at her, “two problems with a very easy solution. so how about you tell me your address so i can actually bring you home and sleep at my home with a good conscience that a drunk woman made it back safely?”

“for all i know, you might as well be some creep called kylian who just wants a good picture for the next scandalous issue. i heard they’re paying good for everything that futures me.”

“ouch, and i thought we had bonded,” the french attacker joked, putting a hand on his chest to show his false heartbreak. “but if you want a whole resume of me, then so be it.”

“my name is kylian mbappé, famous star football player and also a celebrity. and i am not out to get a picture of you for your next scandal. wouldn’t serve me anything.” he stated, typing his name into his phone to show it as further proof.

“that’s what they all say.”

“if you need extra reassurance, my driver would gladly be your witness, in any case”, he argued, trying to reassure her. tiredness was practically written on amara’s face and he didn’t know how long she would still last. “just give me your address. i promise, i won’t sell you out to the press.”

another yawn escaped amara’s lips. “well, as much as i would like to give you my address i can’t.”

if he was frustrated, he didn’t show which amara admired him for. evan had hated her stubbornness. “well, what do we have to solve this time? i told you three time already that i don’t plan on doing anything. i have some dignity.”

“i can’t give it to you because i don’t know it myself. my phone is dead and i can’t remember it anymore. i have only lived there for—,” she yawned, “two and a half weeks. and my head is starting to spin.”

“how did you even plan on getting home in the first place?”

she seemed to be thinking about his question, but her eyelids also fell rapidly and kylian noticed that whenever she blinked, her eyelids would stay closed for an extra second. he knew that feeling just all too well.

“you could sleep at mine,” the words left his mouth before he even had time to think about their weight. he was just as surprised about his offer as amara but he didn’t show it. “i have an extra bedroom, you could always sleep there. it’s cheaper than checking into a hotel right now.”

as much as she hated feeling like a burden, she knew he was right. it was well past midnight and she doubted that any hotel right now would open their doors just for her. in addition to that, every muscle of her body yearned for sleep.

he held out his hand, which amara grabbed thankfully, knowing she wouldn’t have the balance to stand upright. as they walked through the club, heading for the backdoor where kylian’s driver would wait for them so they wouldn’t catch any unwanted attention, amara started to snuggle up a bit into his side. by the time the driver arrived, she was already completely on his side, her head laying on his shoulder.

he helped her, holding her hand as they got into the car. he greeted his driver with a nod, mouthing a silent apology for waking him up at that hour. he didn’t say anything about amara, which kylian was thankful for, not wanting the singer to feel like a burden.

it wasn’t a very long ride, but long enough for amara to fall asleep and claim the back seats as her bed, extending her legs over the seats.

what exactly he found so endearing about watching a person sleep was still a mystery to him and yet he couldn’t keep himself from smiling at her completely enamored. seeing her breathe so calmly as she slept, put a smile on his face. after hearing just how horrible the past few weeks had been for her, all he wanted was for her to be able to finally catch a break.

he knew just how many sleepless nights she must have had, staring at the ceiling or turning around in the bed because fatigue just refused to take over your body. flashbacks of the past days would reminisce in the brain and especially the painful emotions were at their highest during these times. having gone through all this, he was happy that she was sleeping so soundly.

kylian had been so deep in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed they had arrived already. he was brought out of his thoughts by his chauffeur, tipping his shoulder to get his attention and asking him what to do with the woman sleeping on the backseats.

“laisse, je vais m’en occuper,” he had responded to his driver. — leave it, i’ll take care of it

after countless attempts to wake her, kylian gave up and just let her sleep and deep down he was content with himself for his decision. who would dare to wake her after she had finally managed to get some sleep, knowing just how many sleepless nights she must have been through with all the drama?

so instead, the french striker put her carefully, with the help of his driver, into his arms and chose to carry her to bed instead of waking her. she was light, not as light as a feather as some like to say but she wasn’t heavier than other people he had already carried.

he is definitely grateful, the media weren’t able to catch a glance of them because he did not know how to explain to his pr-manager how he managed to be pictured with a drunk, passed out amara imani in his arms.

arriving in the luxurious yet comfy apartment that his mother decorated for him, he headed directly for his bedroom. he laid her softly on the bed, making sure she didn’t wake up though it seemed to him that she was sleeping like the dead at the moment. even the apocalypse happening probably wouldn’t wake her.

kylian was unsure whether he should change her or leave her in her clothes. her outfit was not too uncomfortable that he would feel the need to change her but he knew that skinny jeans and a short crop top weren’t exactly the definition of comfy. he took off her heels softly and decided to leave her like this, scared of stepping over boundaries.

with a last glance over her to make sure everything was okay, he left his room and got ready for the guest room. why he didn’t think of putting her there didn’t even cross his mind, for him it was an obviousness. it felt natural for him even though they had never met in real life before.

with a gentle smile on his face, he finally found sleep after spending thirty minutes thinking about his day and how it turned out.

it was the scent of breakfast that woke amara up from her deep slumber. the moment she left her state of reduced mental activity and her body got control of her conscience, her head began pounding, throbbing with high frequency.

she turned around, trying to extend her comfort but it turned out to be useless with a big headache preventing her. her eyelids opened slowly and closed in the same tempo once they made contact with the bright sun shining through the windows. the curtains which were drawn in front of it barely made an attempt to stop the powerful sun from shining through.

again, the scent of breakfast made its way into amara’s nose, a loud grumble of her stomach following next yet she had no desire to leave the bed. her body snuggled against the big, cloudy duvet that she covered it with and her head felt like paradise, laying on the comfortable big pillow.

as she felt another sharp pain in her head, she decided to stand up and realised she was not in her new parisian apartment she had recently rented, looking at her surroundings. instead of her usual marble nightstand, where a candle and a box of tissues were located, she was met with a white night stand that contained her purse and phone.

instantly, memories of the previous night rushed through her mind at the sight of the black hermes clutch she remembered having worn yesterday. amara also noticed that she still wore yesterday’s clothes which filled her body with relief. she had excluded the scenario of having slept with someone -- for that her left bedside was way too tidy and she had slept too messily -- but was grateful, she hadn’t done anything stupid last night.

removing the big, white sheets from her body, amara stood up, incapable of calming her desire for food down anymore. especially when it smelled like pancakes and waffles, her typical hangover food. she tip-toed through the room, spotting her high heels next to the bed as she looked for a place where she could charge her phone. she found success in the corner next to the nightstand and plugged her phone in before leaving it like that. either way, amara was sure that it would collapse again from all the messages that would be flooding her notification centre.

she followed the smell of food that brought her to the kitchen finding the man that had been kind of enough to let her stay. he was standing behind the stove, moving to the music in his airpods, as he flipped the pancakes. amara remembered only bits of him last night, the strongest information being his smile.

kylian looked up and greeted the singer, standing at the dining table in the kitchen with a smile. he reached for his phone next to him and stopped the music playing in his headphones to give her all his attention. “bonjour madame dormir,” he joked, and amara immediately noticed the two small dips that formed around his smile that were so attractive to her last night. and still were.

“bonjour ky-,” she started, embarrassment visible on her face as she failed to remember the name of the man that had been more than kind to her. she searched her mind for any memory or hint of his name but came up empty which kylian found highly amusing.

“it’s kylian,” he replied, amusement clearly visible on his face.

amara slapped a hand on her mouth to stop herself from laughing but only managed to hide the small chuckles that left her lips. “i am so sorry,” she mumbled, apologizing.

he waved dismissively, not caring about her failed attempt to remember his name. truthfully, he hadn’t expected her to remember anything, after all he had seen the amount she had drunk yesterday.

“don’t worry about it,” he assured her, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. along with two painkiller pills, he handed it to her which she took gratefully but couldn’t contain the surprise at his behavior. she finished the glass of water in one big gulp, her head immediately feeling relieved after the intake of medicine and took place at the big kitchen counter.

“so, i didn’t really know what you would like for breakfast but I guess, you can’t go wrong with pancakes and waffles, right?” he chatted, his good mood clear in his voice as he handed Amara a plate of pancakes with fruits as side. she hesitantly accepted the plate, not because she was wary of the food but more because she wasn’t used to this treatment.

In nearly two years of relationship they had had, evan had never acted the way kylian did. whenever she would come home from a night out with friends or family, he would watch her suffer in silence and continue on with his day. not that she expected him to do so but it would have been nice to know your boyfriend cared after seeing his girlfriend hungover with a headache.

she hadn’t been very subtle with her reluctance to take the place as kylian asked her after it. she shook her head dismissively, soft smile gracing her lips. “it’s just, I’m not used to this. ev- he never did this for me. I would have to do everything.”

“he’s an idiot,” kylian commented dryly. “he doesn’t know what he’s missing.” he added before finally starting to eat.

it wasn’t an awkward silence between them. they were comfortably eating in each other’s presence after such an eventful night. amara enjoyed her breakfast to the fullest as well as this uncomplicated time. she knew the moment she stepped into out of this apartment, she would clash with reality again and brought back to her current life.

looking at the time, amara was shocked to see that it was already half past twelve. she wasn’t in a hurry but also didn’t want to extend her stay. she couldn’t avoid reality forever.

“you didn’t tell me what exactly made you think paris could be your escape place,” kylian began, trying to start a conversation. amara groaned, knowing she would embarrass herself again with her answer.

“well, i was on tour like i said before all this happened. and my next show should have been in Nice — actually it was in Nice. so we went there, i performed and then i had a mental breakdown and couldn’t perform anymore. i had to stop my performance and later then stop my tour because the media was destroying me. but grace, my pr-manager and best friend, thought i couldn’t stay in nice so she placed me in paris, organized everything and practically send me there. i’m just trying to make the most out of my situation at the moment.” she explained, somehow embarrassed about the way she sounded. “or maybe, that’s even the end of my musical career.”

“you shouldn’t say stuff like this, people might think you believe that,” kylian advised softly, “if i said stuff like that after every loss, i would be fresh meat for the wolves. you need to carry yourself, be confident. the mind is as important as your own image.”

“easier said than done.”

finishing her food, she stood up and headed for the bedroom in which she had spent the previous night in. she passed several pictures, hung up in the hallway that her eyes lingered on. she envied the smile he was pictured with, lifting the world cup. or the way the twinkle in his eyes shined through the picture as he held the ligue 1 cup he had won with his team. she remembered the way it used to be her.

the girl who couldn’t believe her dream had become true. they had called her the next beyonce, the upcoming queen of pop/ rnb because she liked to mix both styles in her song. back then it had been everything to her. she had poured everything into her first album and it had won her a grammy. she had carried that spark into her relationship but a year into it and it had extinct.

she had to admit to herself that the critics were right about her second album. it was mediocre in comparison to her first one. the songs were not dull but they also didn’t bring out the usual effect that was normally carried through her songs. it hadn’t flopped but it also hadn’t been what she had imagined. she had disappointed herself and that always hurt more.

amara picked up her charger and purse and put on her high heels, ready to leave. as she walked through the floor, she stopped again in front of the picture that had instantly caught her attention when she had walked through the hallway the first time.

just the way he seemed so happy, pure happiness radiating from the picture. it was nearly embarrassing that she couldn’t remember anymore when she had been this happy. he had a firm grip around the trophy, the golden medal around his neck overshadowed by it. she felt the way her face loosened, a fond smile appearing slowly on her lips.

“beautiful right?”

she flinched, turning around swiftly to find kylian leaning at the door, arms crossed loosely. he had a smirk on his face, amara didn’t know whether it was because he surprised her or because he caught her staring. “we had actually won the ligue four games before but it’s always another feeling actually holding the trophy. c’est un sentiment extraordinaire.” -- it’s an incredible feeling

“i remember holding my first award.” amara told him, smiling just at the thought of that night. “i was so nervous and it was a bit heavy so it actually fell out of my hands. it was just so surreal.” the sound of her laughter reminded kylian of music. he didn’t know if it was a singer thing that your laugh had to be melodic but he didn’t care. if he could, he would listen to the sound of her laughter everyday.

they walked back to the living room and amara took place on one of the small armchairs that was seated next to a big plant. she looked out of the big window, in awe with the view. for the amount of money he must have paid for this apartment, the view was certainly worth it. from her location, she was able to see the most beautiful things that made paris the so-called city of love. amara recognized the eiffel tower in all its beauty, rising magically into the sky.

“so… how long do you plan on staying?” kylian asked, taking place next to her. he was dragging out her stay while amara was reluctant to extend her stay. although they had only known for a couple of hours, there was chemistry between them.

but he wasn’t the only one not wanting to leave. not when he felt so warm, his apartment felt like home. she felt a sense of belonging even if she had only spent one night.

“don’t really know. a month, a week -- it all depends on how long the media are gonna paint me as a whore and homewrecker.” she replied emotionless, “i mean, i’m not even on social media and i still know what people are saying about me.”

a hint of bitterness followed her voice as she spoke, the resentment against the negative terms she had said were clear in her voice. she swallowed the lump in her throat, not wanting to seem emotional again in front of him.

“so… what are your plans?”

she shrugged, chuckling at her own reaction. “music, music and maybe if i have a bit time left, more music.

“remember to write a song about me okay?” he suggested in a snickering tone.

she was about to answer but her phone screen lit up, notifying her that grace had called her several times last night and had just tried again to reach her. she sighed, knowing what this would be about. at kylian’s questionable glance, she turned towards, sighing again. “probably a call to tell me there has been new press. maybe this time they’re saying that I deliberately destroyed their couple? who knows at this point.”

amara stood up, grabbing her purse as she got ready to leave. by now it was surely past two. “i really need to leave now. i’ve already extended my stay by long now.” she said kindly.

he wanted to protest but who was he in her life to stop her? he had only known her for a few hours, he wasn’t in any position to beg her to stay. so against his will, he accompanied her to the door, he was surprised at himself, it had never been this hard to let a person go. not even the one night stands he had actually felt a connection with. she was different.

she would have probably stood there forever, staring into his eyes. even though they were dark, amara was able to separate the black of his pupil from his dark brown irises. the sound of her phone vibrating again, brought her out of her trance.

“well, i guess i really need to leave now. thank you so much for letting me stay here again, you really saved me yesterday. would have been really difficult for me. and breakfast was amazing.” she thanked him, taking him into her arms for a quick hug.

“it was nothing, don’t worry.” he retorted dismissively but amara shook her head firmly, contradicting him.

“no, it’s not nothing,” she objected, “you took me, a stranger, who was drunk, in and let me add, you let me sleep at yours and made me breakfast in the morning. that’s not nothing kylian. i’m very thankful for this.”

she was about to turn and press the door handle, to leave the apartment but she decided against.

“you know, i could always give you my number,” amara suggested slyly, grinning brightly, “that way, we can arrange for part two of this.”

“i also think you should give me your number. after all, i have to reach you somehow in case to remind you about my impending song.” he replied, smiling at her and amara found herself falling again for it. the way his smile and the two small dips that formed around his cheeks always were always able to make her swoon, should be studied.

the singer grabbed the first thing she saw in her view that she was able to write with and grabbed the striker’s arm, writing her number along with her name on his forearm. amara

he looked at his arm, amused at the black ink and smiled even brighter when he noticed the little heart next to her name. amara reached forward and pressed a soft kiss on kylian’s cheek, inhaling the smell of his cologne as her skin made contact with his.

“i hope you call,” amara added. the smile that graced her lips was mesmerizing. kylian was used to see it on tv, maybe even on the red carpet but he would have never expected that it would happen here, in the hallway of his apartment. that he would receive her hundred million dollar smile right here.

“i promise i will.”

with a last wave, she left his apartment to go handle the chaos in her own life.

he hated watching her go and just wished that she would stay. he walked back to his bedroom and let himself fall on the bed. opening his phone, he quickly realised that his phone would probably become his best friend in the coming days with her number still written on his arm.

he typed her number into his phone and saved her contact under amara, adding the small heart as she had done on his arm. somehow looking at her profile picture on messenger or stalking her page in instagram filled his heart with a sense of innocent amore.

was he attracted to her? yes. but was that the reason that kylian was so taken to her? no. she was nothing short of perfect (even if she would wholeheartedly disagree). and kylian couldn’t fathom for his life how someone so angelic ended up with a sleaze bag like evan henderson.

he knew it was a long shot but he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that she was his at the end of the day. that all her songs from now on would be about him, and they would never be sad or heartbroken, because she would always be happy with him.

kylian was determined that all his goals would be dedicated to her, that they would be each other's safe space, home bestfriend and lover. and that he would never hurt her like evan did. maybe she hadn’t been as lovestruck as he had been, but he would wait for her, he would be patient. because she was worth all the time in the world.

kylian:

hey

amara:

you actually texted

kylian

je le t’avais promis, n’est-ce pas?

amara:

well, the official rule is to wait three days after a date before you text

kylian:

three hours, three days, its all the same

so when am i getting that song?

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f1stargirll · 1 year ago

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Conversation friends • Lando Norris

Chapter One

Word count : 2.150k

Hi guys this is my first time ever writing fanfic. I’ve had this idea for a while now and decided write it! So if any of y’all has feedback/ requests or constructive criticism I’ll be more than happy to listen! (or if u just wanna talk i’m here too <3)

Btw English isn’t my first language so don’t be too harsh on me pls🧚🏼‍♀️

Description : slow burn, college!au (enemies to lovers) and more to come.

I’m gonna make it work. I am going to make this work.

Looking around the tiny apartment I had just collected the keys to, the realization that I was finally here, alone, started sinking in slowly. This was going to be my home for the next year, a tiny apartment in a huge city I barely knew anything about, let alone knew anyone in.

It actually looks cozy, and at least it’s conveniently close to the University.

I really am going to make it work. I started unpacking and realized the need for groceries was imminent so I grabbed my keys and headed for the nearest store GoogleMaps indicated to me.

Strolling around the different isles didn’t feel as unfamiliar as I thought it would, I guess Lidl stores are always a relatively universal experience. But after a few minutes in the store, the bright neon lights and the exhaustion from the flight were seeping into my brain and making me slightly overstimulated.

Okay, got the pasta. Now I need pads and tampons and we’ll be good to go.

Mindlessly putting the cardboard box in my cart, I’m suddenly forced to look up from the huge list I had written on my phone when I feel a finger tapping my left shoulder. I quickly remove one of my headphones and turn around to face the person in front of me.

“Do you mind ?”a boy, around my age but slightly taller than I am, faces me and stares at me with an icy expression.

What’s his deal ? Wait he’s kinda…

“You’re in my way”, he spats.

He’s wearing a simple gray hoodie and sweatpants combo and a black cap hiding what seemed to be loose curls, some of them still peeking from underneath it. His baby blue eyes were piercing through me. He kept his airpods in his ears.

“I’m sorry ?” I responded slightly confused, not really hearing him well above Hozier’s new album playing in my ear.

“Do you not understand English?” He removes one of his hands from the pockets of his sweatpants to point at the box of pasta positioned right behind me, “I said you’re in my fucking way, I’ve repeated it 5 times and you’re still standing there like an idiot,” he mutters through gritted teeth, “unlike you, I don’t have all night.”

Oh, he did not just talk to me like this.

“Well there you go, almighty king of Lidl!” I exclaim while handing him the precious item, "your all powerful box of Linguini” I add, fake bowing down in irony, my face burning in anger. The exhaustion from the flight and the move had already made me easily irritable, but this was just the icing on the cake.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asks, snatching the box away from my grasp, “You just have to make a scene, huh? You’re hysterical” he huffs exiting the aisle, a baffled expression on his face.

So now I’m the crazy one? Unbelievable.

God this was the last thing I needed right now.

I sigh in exasperation, not having the strength to run after him and put up a fight.

This is going to be a long year.

Brushing my bangs slightly away from my eyes, I take a step back in my small bathroom to look for any flaws like unblended makeup or toothpaste stains on my outfit. I tend to have those a lot.

Today is my first day of class and an introduction to the daily life I was about to embark on, so looking and feeling good was quite important.

Taking the small commute to the campus, I sit next to Lola, a girl I met at the bus station earlier this morning. She instantly was very kind and helped me find my way, which turned out to be convenient for the both of us since we were heading towards the same classes. I told her about my trip from Paris and how I was here for a year abroad and she told me all about her dreams of visiting my hometown. We talked for the whole ride and exchanged Instagrams. Lola was a ray of sunshine, a gleam of light in this anxiety-inducing morning.

She also looked like the perfect representation of the sunshine; her hair a polar blond color, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean sea and a porcelain skin adorned with beautiful yet irregular freckles.

Having her by my side for the first classes felt really comforting and I was relieved to find out we shared most of our semester’s classes together. We were both English majors, and since she was here last year she had promised to help me with anything I wouldn’t understand; as I said, a ray of sunshine. We spent the day learning all about this year’s curriculum and all the work we were about to achieve.

Heading towards my last class of the day, the first meeting of what was called “Conversation Friends”. It was a program I had applied to while enrolling here, international students meeting local students once a week to exchange in English or the student’s native language. A program created to help international students better their English and make new connections.

Not knowing anyone here, I thought it would be a great opportunity to make a friend, share a nice moment and discover the city better.

But Lola warned me not to get too excited since most students in the university only did it to gain extra credit or even get a quick hookup out of it. Fine with me, people can do whatever they want, I believe I’ll still get to meet someone nice.

I like to think of myself as a pretty open person so it shouldn’t be too hard to connect with whoever it’ll turn out to be.

Walking into the amphitheater, I decide to choose a seat in the middle row and take out my notebook to write down some notes. Looking around, I can see a lot of different students from every corner of the earth and I suddenly feel a wave of comfort knowing I’m not the only one who left home for this new adventure.

“Is this seat taken?”a boy with a thick Australian accent asks while pointing to the seat on my left.

“Not at all, it’s all yours”I responded with a smile which he returned. And boy did he return it. That man was all teeth, and nose. I extended my hand to introduce myself, “my name is y/n, I’m guessing you’re Australian right?”.

He took my hand and shook it earnestly, “You’re good! I’m Daniel, nice to meet you”.

He sat next to me and we started getting to know each other quickly. Daniel seemed really kind and was really funny. I learned that he was majoring in geography (didn’t even realize that was a thing) and lives in the complex right in front of mine. He also has a passion for karting (didn’t know that was a thing either).

He’s cute. Daniel is really cute. With his little brown curls, sparkly eyes, and his smile, so big it could resuscitate a dying dentist.

He told me a little more about the program too since he had been part of it last year in a university in Montreal. He informed me that our partners were going to be chosen randomly and that we’re not allowed to change if we don’t get along.

That sucks. I hope my partner’s gonna be nice or funny, or both like Daniel. Well not just like Daniel but at least a little like Daniel, why do I keep talking about Daniel ? Daniel’s just really cute.

“So, how do you like it here so far?”he asks, crossing his long legs in front of him.

“Well, I’ve only been here for two days so I really couldn’t tell you much. I yelled at this very rude guy when I went shopping yesterday, all for some Linguini.” He questions my answer with an amused expression in his eyes.”I also met this really nice girl, Lola, she reminds me of you a little bit actually, must be the golden retriever energy.” I smile as I answer his question, feeling grateful for my encounter with the blonde this morning. At least.

“So you’re calling me a dog, after I’ve been nothing but kind, that’s what you’re doing? Wow y/n, wow.” He replies with a dramatic hand on his chest and a goofy smile on his face. “Can’t believe you fought over pasta.”

On the main stage, a professor clears his throat into the mic, telling us that the meeting is about to start. He then takes the first ten minutes to inform us on all the details of the program, like how partners have to meet at least once a week, on campus or in cultural instances like museums, cinemas or parks, some of which will be organized by the university and thus mandatory.

As if you have to ask me twice to go out for a movie, whoever it’s with and whatever the movie is, oh baby I am going to be in that seat eating my sweet popcorn. Except for horror movies, can’t watch those. I’m scared of everything horror or creepy, I can't even watch children’s movies like The Nightmare Before Christmas or Caroline.

The clanking of two fish bowls on the professor’s desks takes me out of my thoughts and I realize that he’s really about to pull out our names and assign us to partners like it’s the sunday lottery.

This is going to be very entertaining.

“Please stand up when I call out your name so your partner can see you as well,“ the professor instructs us.

His hand mixes around the first bowl of tiny pieces of paper and pulls out the first name “Daniel Ricciardo” he says into the mic, looking around for the Australian boy sitting next to me.

Daniel stands up proudly, waving at everyone in the audience like he’s on stage at a beauty pageant. His partner is next, a charming Asian boy called Alex, who was sitting front row and turned around to find Daniel and waved at him aggressively.

These two look like they’re about to have a lot of fun. Lucky Daniel.

Of course my name came up last, because why wouldn’t it ? I stand up as I hear my name being called out and let my eyes investigate the remaining students in the room, until I see him.

Fucking Linguini.

“Lando Norris” I simultaneously hear over the speakers as I see the boy who disrespected me in the middle of shopping yesterday stand up from his seat.

This can’t be real, this is a practical joke.

As his eyes meet mine I can see the smile he previously wore on his face disappear and make way for disgust as his brain processed how I looked so familiar.

The audacity of that man.

“Perfect! Apparently now everybody is paired with their partners,” the professor smiles in contentment, “now if every pair could please make its way to the front of the room to sign the register.”

As I make my way over to the front of the room, I see my so-called partner bolting towards the professor and hear him babbling about how he can’t be my partner and begs to trade with someone else.

“Norris, we both know you can’t afford to miss out on the extra credit, and the pairs have already been established, there’s no negotiation” the professor answers him sternly.

I can’t believe it. He was the one who was bad-mannered and almost verbally assaulted me in the middle of the store for nothing! I was actually considering putting this behind us to start the program on a good note and give him a chance but apparently that would be in vain. If he wants to be petty, I can beat him at his own game, that’s for sure.

Standing in front of him, I tilt my head to the side to meet his gaze “You are just unbelievable! I barely know your name and you’re already making me regret enrolling in this program.”

Looking right at me, he hands me the paper I have to sign without a word.

“You’re actually not going to talk to me? We barely know each other, this is ridiculous!” I exclaim in irritation, snatching the paper from his hands the way he snatched the box of pasta from my hands the day before.

“Can you not be annoying ? Or is that impossible for you?”he blurts out in resentment, “I’m just trying to do this thing and go home, you’ll find my email on the thing or whatever” he says without even giving you the time to respond.

This is definitely going to be a very long year.

#formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #formula one fanfiction #enemies to lovers #college!au #university!au

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dispatchvampire · 18 days ago

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Radio Free Bucky: Chapter 2

Radio Free Bucky - Bucky x Fem!OC

Pairing: Bucky x OC (in progress)

Warnings: Fluff, mild angst, casual swearing, canon-typical violence, smut in later chapters

Chapter Wordcount: 4700ish (it sure as fuck got away from me)

Series Summary: A bunch of interrelated of fluffy ficlets about Bucky and Penelope. Strangers in the night, tenuously connected by the past, finding their way together a little at a time.

Chapter 1

Chapter Summary: In which Bucky has a revelation and Sam may, or may not be correct.

“There she goes …”

The pace of life in Brooklyn Heights was light years away from Delacroix, in every measurable way. It was very easy for Bucky to slip back into the rhythm of his daily city life. Bodega on the corner by Steve’s place, neighborhood local up the street, deli down the way from his own apartment, how could he want anything more, really?

He and Steve had moved back to the neighborhood initially to touch base and give themselves a tone of home, such as it was. Of course, that was more of a fanciful notion in practice since the only thing that ever truly remained the same was change. Steve had, at that point, recently conferred the shield to Sam, Bucky was at a loss for direction and starting out in therapy, it was an oasis of stability in a frothing sea of new realities.

Speaking of, Bucky took his key out and let himself into his best friend’s place. He wasn’t home and wouldn’t be for the foreseeable, leaving the vast collection of plants all over the space in need of minding. The former Captain America was currently in Ireland visiting distant relatives on his mother’s side he’d discovered recently, and that left Bucky at loose ends for a few days.

Not that he lived in Steve’s pockets or even vice versa, but there was just something about actually having the time to make up for lost time with his best friend. It was a tiny slice of freedom that he truly cherished. It wasn’t their flat on State Street, but it was home, and that was all he could possibly ask for.

Absent anything more pressing, Bucky found his way down to Romansky’s, a fourth generation family-owned place that was a vintage NYC kosher delicatessen he remembered fondly. At some point it had expanded one or two storefronts over to become a sort of deli-cum-wartime-Paris cafe, complete with period-appropriate musical accompaniment. He’d stopped in one day on his way to the VA to go to therapy, and ended up coming back to avail himself of their comfy, overstuffed deep green velour couch, some vintage Vonnegut, and a pastrami-and-swiss the size of a compact car with a dill pickle spear that tasted homemade. It was as close to a second home as he’d ever had.

The one of the two current owners, Calliope, waved as he came in the door, holding up a pickle spear with an inquiring smirk. Buck smiled and nodded, internally reveling in his status as a regular as a voice he’d come to recognize as Harry Connick floated gently from the hidden speakers around the room. The vibes, as the Parker kid would say, were immaculate, even with Sam tagging along.

“I feel like I should say something about being a creature of habit, but given that this habit is one that actually has you leaving your house, I’m gonna refrain.”

“How kind,” Bucky snarked as they made their way to the counter. Lunch rush had just ended for the most part, but there were still enough people that they had to be a little more mindful of how they moved through the space. “Callie.”

The woman behind the counter greeted them both with an affectionate grin. “James.”

“Oh it’s ‘James’, huh?” Sam teased, and Bucky felt his cheeks heat up despite his best intentions. Normally she called him ‘Jamie’ just to tease him, but apparently having someone with him merited something more formal.

She didn’t miss a beat. “My babushka called him Yasha, and he told me James was fine. Am I misinformed?” The twinkle in her dark eyes said that she knew exactly what she was doing and had no intention of stopping.

A partner in crime secured, Sam slipped right into his element. “Actually, it’s funny you say that. He—”

“Yasha, or James is fine,” he supplied, talking over his ersatz frenemy. The phrase ‘cheerfully strangle’ drifted across his mind. “You can call me whichever.”

“Good to know.” Snagging a pen from her bun, she bounced the tip off the order book on the counter. “You getting your usual, James?”

“I am, actually, Calliope.” Because if she was going to use his full government name, he could use hers just the same.

“And your friend here?”

He opened his mouth to make a suggestion when Sam replied, “Ruben, please. With a Coke. Pickle spear on the side.”

Her look of affront as she tore off her sheet and slapped down her pen made Bucky snort quietly. “Sir! Do I look like a heathen to you? Of course we give you pickle spears on the side. What kind of raggedy, rinky-dink … We make our own! Been doing it for over a century now! I mean, the absolute audacity…” her words trailed off as she steamed her way back into the kitchen to start working on their food.

It wasn’t often that Sam was left in blinking shock, but it added to Bucky’s amusement as he led the man off to a side table. It was his regular seat, with perfect sightlines around the room and into the kitchen. Not that he expected anything to pop off in a deli, but having his back to the wall felt better than not.

“You’re gonna want to order the rugelach,” he informed him as he gently shoved the chair out from under the table for Sam to join him.

“Oh yeah?”

“That’ll keep her from coming out of the kitchen armed.”

Sam had the grace to blink at that. “That bad, huh?”

“You’re on pretty thin ice, not gonna lie.”

His sometimes bestie grinned and shrugged off the concern before sitting back and really looking around the room. “So what’s the story with you and this place? You and Steve used to hang out here back in the day?”

Bucky’s cheeks heated, even as he smirked. “Something like that. Her babushka was quite a looker, and her great grandmother, well, she and my mother went to schul together.” He didn’t feel like going into the fact that the other four or so diners in the place, from the woman by the window crocheting a blanket for her sister-in-law’s new baby to the young woman in the opposite corner from them diligently typing away on her laptop were all regulars like him and this was part of the regular fabric of his day-to-day life at this point. Sam didn’t need that much information about his daily existence.

He leaned back in his chair with a broad grin, crossing his legs with his ankle on his opposing knee. “Oh, so it’s a family thing.”

“Kind of.” There weren’t a ton of memories he had of his family from before the war, lifetimes come and gone between then and now, but there were certain touchstones, of which food was a major one, he could grasp that helped tether him and keep him steady. Before he could explain further, Callie’s sister Naomi came out with their plates. “How’s your sister?”

She rolled her eyes with a knowing smile as she smoothed her curls back out of her face. “Let’s just say that the chicken salad is exceptionally well-mixed and leave it at that.” She slid Bucky a wry grin. “You know how she is.”

“I do.” He nodded solemnly, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “Sorry about that.”

“Feh,” she waved off his apologies before pulling her order book from the pocket of her apron. She’d long dealt with her sister’s volatile temper. “You guys want anything else?”

Sam took this as his moment to mount his apology. “I hear your rugelach’s to die for.”

“You’d be correct,” she replied with a proud grin. “You’ll take two?”

“Three actually,” he agreed with that toothpaste commercial, ‘Captain America appreciates your cooperation’ smile. “One to take home, too.”

“Coming right up.”

Bucky rolled her eyes at Naomi’s blush and shy grin as she scurried off to complete the order. About that time, the girl from the window tentatively approached Sam to gush over his Captain-ness and maybe flirt a little. It was a common enough occurrence that Bucky was quite happy to fade into the background and wait it out.

He didn’t mind not being noticed or recognized, in fact, he preferred it. It was certainly better than the occasional freakouts from other people he’d had to endure. Tuning out the conversation, he let his eyes and mind drift to the sounds of Artie Shaw as he watched the cute woman in a motorized wheelchair roll through the doors and to the counter to order.

She wasn’t anyone he’d seen before; he was pretty sure a brown-skinned woman with a purple pixie cut and enough metal in her ears to be seen across the room would have been someone he would have remembered. She was in jeans and boots, pretty standard fare for the neighborhood, wearing a shirt that said something provocative in italian and toting an eclectically decorated backpack that looked like it could hold at least half of the world’s secrets in it. Everything about her was just… made him want to know more. It was her smile, though, that really took his breath away. The way she interacted with Callie, like she was made of sunshine and warm breezes, like the most inviting summer afternoon. He couldn’t explain it, but there he was, getting all fanciful about a woman he hadn’t even interacted with, only seen.

“Aww, come on, don’t be like that. I just wanna talk.”

It was loud enough that he didn’t need his enhanced hearing to make out the words, though the gentle refusal that followed was definitely much softer than the overall ambient noise. His eyes followed the voice down to the end of the row where he was sitting, the girl with the laptop now engaged in conversation, though her body language said it wasn’t exactly welcomed. Now that he was paying attention, he could see the way she fiddled with her laptop screen, not quite closing it but definitely turning it from the guy’s view, the way she shifted in her seat and kind of shrugged away when he leaned in to press his case some more. He judged the guy to be approximately his size, not much effort for him to work over, but certainly bigger than the seated woman. And definitely in an offensively better position if he decided he wanted to be a problem, which honestly looked to be his intent.

Bucky turned to stand up and intervene, but stopped when he watched the woman in the motorized wheelchair make a beeline from the counter with her drink to the table in question.

“Oh my gods, Lyddy. I am so sorry I’m late!” Her voice was clear, deeper than Bucky expected, but for some reason it made sense with her overall presentation. She set her drink down and began to unload her gear, her whole demeanor a vibrant burst of kinetic energy as she went on about the trials and tribulations of her afternoon to her friend who looked like she'd just rolled a live grenade in the room. “Traffic, am I right?” She gestured at her wheels with a self-conscious little chuckle. Reaching for the record sleeves on the table with big eyes that sparkled with excitement, she was practically bouncing in her chair. “Omigod, I totally forgot about Record Store Day! You got the Coltrane and the Monk! Girl, you are doing me such a solid. You have no idea. Thank you.” All at once, she paused, like it had only just registered that she and her friend weren’t alone. Turning to the guy who’d been shooting his shot with her friend, she offered him a disarming grin. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“Yes!”

“No, not really.”

The competing voices didn’t seem to deter her as she looked from him to her friend before digging into her bag and pulling out her own computer and several other things. “Alright then, lovely to meet you. If you’ll excuse us…” She nodded her dismissal and turned her attention to the woman across from her. “I brought the research materials you’d wanted from the archives. They were a bitch to digitize, let me tell you, girl—”

“I—wait, what the hell? Are you really ignoring me?”

The innocent grin on her face held an edge that Bucky found almost amusing. “No, she said I wasn’t interrupting and we’re on a schedule. What did I miss?”

The guy turned his attention from her back to her friend with the laptop. “So she speaks for you now?”

“Not at all,” the purple-haired woman responded again, still pleasant surprisingly enough, bringing his attention fully back to her. “Lyddy spoke for herself when she told you ‘no’. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

The way the guy’s face darkened was concerning, the rage rising within him like a wellspring that made his hands shake and his muscles stiffen, the kind of stuff Bucky looked for when he had to brawl. This wasn’t going to go well, in short order. “Who the fuck do you think you are, you uppity bitch? We weren’t done! You don’t get to ignore me!”

To be honest, Bucky expected a reaction from the vile epithet the guy dropped, and to be fair, from the way the room quieted down considerably, they all did, too. But the way the woman in the wheelchair’s smile widened, Bucky could feel the growing malice from where he sat, like the whistle of an incoming German 88 shell, getting closer every second.

There was something in the way she moved, he’d noticed it when she’d arrived at the table, the cheerful effervescence of her personality was genuine, but it was… almost like she was going out of her way to seem harmless. It was a trait he recognized from his own life: having a good day and meeting new people while appearing as unscary as possible. Sam called it his ‘scary dog vibe’, but Bucky just thought of it as a way for him to make it through his day with as little screaming as possible.

If he hadn’t been watching the whole thing, he’d have missed the way she subtly locked the wheels of her chair and surreptitiously flipped up her footrests with the toes of her boots. “I’m telling you right now. We have a shit ton of work to do on her thesis before next week, and she told you no. What more do you need? Take the hint.”

“Fuckin’ cunt—”

It was like everything in the room slowed to a crawl as Bucky moved to stand up at that, only to have Sam’s hand land heavily on his shoulder as he watched the woman in the wheelchair launch herself up just enough to do a move that would have made Natasha proud. She yanked him to the floor using her weight and leverage, and the incredibly solid wrist lock she had on the guy as she drove him to his knees in an awkward heap when she resumed her seat.

“Impressive,” Sam muttered, “but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need our assistance.”

Bucky wasn’t so sure, but slowly sat back down, watching carefully for the moment he needed to jump in. Amusingly enough, the friend she’d been defending had a look on her face very similar to one he’d seen on Sam in regards to him. It felt very strange to be on this side of the fence, waiting to see if the violence-in-progress was going to require his intervention or not.

He had so many questions—Where did she learn that? How did she learn that? Was she maybe free some evening this week to discuss it with him? He wasn’t super picky. The whole idea of getting a chance to talk to her one-on-one was honestly tantalizing, and kinda terrifying if he was being completely truthful.

“Two or three?” she asked softly.

“What?” The dumbass seemed to find it in himself to fight back, but that only allowed her to further solidify her grip on his hand and wrist.

“You keep moving and I will take your fucking thumb off at the root,” she snarled in warning, and he squeaked as she shifted in her seat, clearly having already dislocated his thumb. Her friend muttered an admonishment then that she appeared to accept with a grumbling pout before turning back to her captive. “Do you understand me?”

The high-pitched whimper that followed his question was accompanied by a slight growl from her as she appeared to be marshaling all her patience. “Can you hear me?” she asked, her voice barely rising above a whisper. “Nod your head.”

The man followed directions haltingly and she sighed deeply. “Okay, here’s how this works. I have had a helluva long week and a lot of big feelings I need to work through. I’m happy to use you to do it if you’re gonna volunteer. So, what’s it gonna be, two joints or three?” The guy twisted again, trying to put some space between the two of them and get his legs under him, only for Bucky to hear an ominous pop, followed by a pained, muffled squeal.

“That was your wrist,” she informed him, sounding almost bored. “You can keep on struggling and I wilI have no problem involving your elbow and shoulder in this party, too. Savvy?”

Bucky sipped his drink to keep his tiny choke of laughter to himself. This girl was… wow. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he was falling in love. He chuckled at the revelation; he knew nothing about this woman other than her fashion and music sense, her desire to defend her friend, and that she had a remarkable understanding of leverage, and yet… Damn. She wasn’t yelling, she wasn’t boastful, she was merely informing this man of the potential ongoing consequences of his transgressions, and damn, but she was sexy.

There was something about her though, beyond her compelling smile and obvious penchant for violence, that struck him as… familiar for some reason. Like the way she spoke, the softly uttered words gently brushed with a faint country accent, seemed to ping in his memories like he should know her, and yet he kept drawing a blank. It was rare he’d forget a face, a hazard of the job with potentially lethal outcomes, but nothing about her overall appearance rang any bells for him. It was as intriguing as it was disconcerting.

“Now, what happens next is up to you, dig?” Thankfully for his sake, Bucky mused, the guy nodded. “Excellent. Let’s start simple: did she tell you she didn’t want to talk to you?” There was a pause, like he was thinking about it, the sweat beading on his brow from the pain becoming obvious in the light. “If I have to repeat myself, I’m going to start breaking bones.”

“Yes!” he squawked. “Yes, she told me no.”

Her smile sparked an unusual warmth in Bucky’s chest. “Fantastic, so you did hear her. And you chose not to acknowledge that because…?”

What followed was a quick and dirty object lesson in manners that the young man clearly didn’t receive growing up, but this woman was more than happy to supply. Distantly, Bucky wondered if it was inappropriate to propose to someone whose name he hadn’t gotten yet. By the time she’d turned the guy loose he’d apologized profusely, and, because she was clearly a nice person, did the man a solid by reducing his dislocated wrist and thumb.

Even if the whimpering mess whose ego might likely never recover couldn’t appreciate her kindness, Bucky truly liked her style.

“You gonna get her number?” Sam’s teasing voice in his ear made him jump.

“What? No!” It wasn’t often that he ceded any kind of situational awareness like that, but then, the moment he’d seen her in action, he’d kind of lost himself. “Why?”

Sam’s sour face would have been comical under other circumstances. “Whaddya mean, ‘why’? You’re staring at her like she’s the Khaleesi to your Khal Drogo, and you’re really gonna ask me why?”

Bucky’s nose wrinkled in annoyance. “I’m disgusted with myself that I got that reference.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Sam thanked Naomi with a generous tip for his take out order before turning back to Buck. His friend’s smile was as grating as it was smug. “It’s like how Steve stares at Natasha when he thinks she’s not looking.”

He took immediate umbrage. “I’m not that—”

“You’re really gonna stand there and tell me you’re not that bad. Like we don’t see him every damn day. That damn super-soldier soulful puppydog look should be patented. I mean, granted, yours is on the brooding, tortured artist side of things, but the effect…” he trailed off with a verbose shrug.

“How poetic,” he muttered flatly.

“Man, I’ve seen the goth girlies falling all over themselves to flirt with you and slip you their numbers. Don’t play with me.” Which, okay, was a fair cop (and kinda rude), but that didn’t mean he had to do anything about it. That he had even thought about doing something about it, at least, not until today. After a moment of silence, Sam continued. “That’s what I thought. Now, you gonna get her number or do you want me to do it for you?”

“What? No! Are we children?” Horrified to his soul, Bucky was on his feet and tossing cash on the table with exceptionally forced ease, only relaxing after glancing over his shoulder to see that Sam’s threat went unnoticed by the general populace. “Jesus Christ!”

It took some doing, but he was able to herd Sam to the and down the street without any incidents with Sam kvetching the whole time.

“You and Steve have a type, you know that?” Sam mused as they meandered through the neighborhood in the direction of the subway entrance.

“We do not.” The automatic disagreement was almost second nature to Bucky by this point in their friendship. The fact that he didn’t want to continue this conversation was immaterial.

His friend snorted derisively. “You do, damn near identical, too. At least from how it looks over here.”

“Oh whatever, man,” he scoffed with a humorless laugh. “Just talking out of your ass.”

The arched eyebrow should have been the warning, and yet… “So you’re not into mouthy little shits who like starting fights for righteous causes, huh?” The observation was so sharp, it would have been kinder if Sam stabbed him.

At Bucky’s blinking, mute astonishment, he threw up his hands. “You’re both a damn mess.” Patting him hard on the back, Sam hugged him before heading down the stairs to the train, his voice trailing behind him. “...White Wolf? More like ‘big ol’ scaredy-cat’, I swear to God…”

Aspersions cast on his temerity aside, Bucky decided to take a walk through the neighborhood on his way over to commune some more with Steve’s plants. Sam’s words carried weight with him, much to his displeasure, and what’s worse? The man was right, at least kind of.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of her, though she’d shown she could clearly hold her own if she had to, it was more nebulous than that. His was not, in any way, shape, form, or fashion, a normal life, regardless of what Sam (and to a lesser degree Steve) had to say about it. His therapist’s opinions could also pound sand, frankly.

The superhero business—the androids, aliens, and wizards part—was a lot to take, and he was enhanced. He couldn’t ask someone with a, presumably, normal, regular life, to throw in with his chaos. Hell, most days, he didn’t want to throw in with this chaos, and he hadn’t been afforded a choice in the matter. His tumultuous past aside (and that was asking a helluva lot), the expectations of him, others and his own, were heavy and suffocating on a good day, and not the kind of thing he wanted to burden someone else with if he didn’t have to.

He wasn’t Steve. He didn’t get to just dip his toes into normal life and learn to swim in this modern current, not with the way his own life had played out. There was no avenue to ‘normal’ or ‘low key’ available to him, at least none that he could see, and searching for it seemed like a rabbit-hole fraught with more perils than the Parker kid’s bedroom in the Tower. Certainly more than he was willing to tussle with on just a whim, or on Sam’s whimsical notions about his (nonexistent, can’t overstate that part) romantic life.

Shadows grew and coalesced as the afternoon slipped into evening on the Brooklyn street where he lived. The hum of everyone’s daily lives slowly dialing back down as the day marched relentlessly to its conclusion. Thoughts marinating in his irritation, Bucky let himself into Steve’s place, and began his usual check of the perimeter. Satisfied that all was as he’d left it, he grabbed the watering can to fill up and laid his phone on the coffee table to play music while he tended to the philodendrons, snake plants, and zebrinas with that stretched into multiple rooms.

The plants weren’t nearly as judgemental as his friends were.

He hummed along with the tunes he remembered so fondly, watering the seemingly endless number of pots and pruning some dead leaves from the purple Persian Shield that Steve had named Ziba. It felt like as much as Sam had riled him up earlier, the weight of the world seemed to lift away from him with every note that floated along the evening breeze teasing the curtains through the open windows of the flat.

“And that was Count Basie and his orchestra from 1938, Blue and Sentimental. It’s about this time every day here in New York when the sun dips out for his evening affairs that I feel that the most.” His lips curled as he could hear the smile in her voice. Truthfully, he could not agree more. “I do so love getting out my vinyl for you all. Dipping deep into my archives to find goodies to bring to you all every evening is one of life’s little joys. This next one is near and dear to my heart. I met up with my sister-from-another-mister today before the show for a bite to eat, and she brought me some shinies to share. So without further ado, a little solo action from none other than Mr. Monk himself, playing the current theme to my life, ‘Everything Happens to Me’.”

It was rare that Bucky had revelations large enough to force him to take a seat, but this one… Jesus Christ. It was like for a moment, the universe’s secrets were unceremoniously dumped into his lap as the trains of thought converged in a front lobe derailment of epic proportions. Tiny clues he’d memorized from his time listening to her, her residence in New York, her relation to Gabe Jones, but it took Thelonious Monk to bring it all home to him.

His nightly crush, the one who brought him a little slice of peace and calm daily from her radio show, was none other than the purple-haired goddess he’d (been swooning over) seen at the cafe that afternoon. Questions he’d had about her that he didn’t even know were on his mind were suddenly answered, leaving acres of new ones in their wake. Now, the light crush he had on a voice in the darkness had a face, a gorgeous face with a smile that stopped his heart.

She wasn’t so out of reach anymore, and the question quickly became, what the hell was he going to do about it?

“Well fuck.”

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