#how I met up with my friends through crazy ice to practice

[after-nine-at-the-oasis]

two more days. two more days and I can stop being jealous of people I don't know

[393416]

Connor Bedard and Fraser Minten; through the years - a primer

before we get into it i wanna say that @tor16 and i have been working on this primer and compiling as much as we could over the course of a couple months so we could have everything in one place. we tried our best to link our sources to everything also to double as an archive for them. ok thats it thank you go nuts!

Connor Bedard and Fraser Minten met in the spring of 2017. Fraser was 13 Connor was 12. 

“First time meeting Connor (around spring 2017) I was 13 and I remember he came out to a skate with my spring hockey team,” Minten told the Tribune in a text conversation. “Everyone was young at that age and didn’t really pay attention to who’s who or what’s really happening. Just go out on the ice and have a blast with your friends. So Connor was just another body. But I distinctly remember, right away we were doing this 1-on-1 battle drill out of the corner, and Connor went up against our best player, first rep, and the way he was able to stick-handle around him and then finish it off was insane. He made our best player look silly.”

Fraser studied his shot and stick-handling the entire time they practiced.

“The creative plays he was making just didn’t happen at that age. I would try and shoot as quick as him in my rep and the puck would barely get off the ice.”

He mentioned seeing Connor out on the ice with NHL players like Ryan Nugent-Hopkins and Matthew Barzal and thinking he was “just as good if not better than them.” 

"He was shooting the puck just as good if not better than those guys. And that was probably when I realized it was pretty world-class, that release."

Fraser has talked a lot about noticing how skilled Connor was even when they were still so young, how he always expected to see him succeed. 

“I ended up on the ice with him a lot over the next spring/summer as I started going to the North Shore winter club … and every day (my friends and I) would go there, Connor would be on the ice. It seemed that he was always there before we arrived and was still on the ice as we were leaving. Whether it be specifically practicing one-timers, doing shootouts for hours or just gliding around flicking pucks around, talking about different scenarios, he just simply loved being on the ice and playing around and the joy he got from it seemed inexhaustible. By the time I got to play with him for the first time the following year at West Van, I was not surprised at all at the level he was playing at. I’d seen him make goalies years older than him look like sieves, scoring crazy releases that kids that age didn’t even think about. He knew how to get defenders to put their stick exactly where he needed them and then slip it under, go around them and the puck was through the goalie’s five-hole before they had even set for the shot.”

The next year they were teammates for West Van Warriors and became good friends. 

“He never treated you like he was way better than you, even though he was, and wouldn’t get frustrated with you when you would make mistakes. This made it really easy to learn from him and made playing with him so much fun.” 

According to their coach, Minten learned a lot from playing with him. 

“He identified he had one of the best shooters on the planet in Connor Bedard on his team. He said, ‘I’m going to have the courage to stay as close to Connor in shooting practice as I can’.”

Some pictures of them from their West Van era (both from Minten’s instagram)

This would pay off, because the two of them led the team in shooting percentage that year.

Their stats during their time playing together.

You can see them playing together here, Connor is wearing #98 and Fraser is #16. 

Connor was given exceptional status to play in the WHL despite being a year younger, he was drafted to the Regina Pats and Minten was drafted to the Kamloops Blazers. Despite no longer being teammates, they still kept in touch and remained friends. 

Minten was asked about Connor Bedard before he was set out to play against him in the Regina vs Blazers game in Kamloops.

“Yeah he’s one of my good friends back home, great guy, excited to play against him.” Q: Have you talked to him about what it’s like to go through this media frenzy? “No, I haven’t really talked to him about it. I’m sure he’d rather just not hear about it for once. I think it’s pretty crazy for him, it probably feels a little surreal at times–he’s just trying to play hockey and have some fun and he gets a lot of attention for sure.” Q: What do you think it would be like to be in his shoes? “Yeah it’d be tough I bet. It’s pretty hard to deal with the outside noise when you’ve got that much of it all the time but if there’s a guy who can deal with it well, it would be him.”

Even during the off seasons, they spend a lot of time together training, skating, and even doing inline hockey. In a media availability in 2024, Minten talks about how often they see each other in the summers and that they’re still pretty close. 

Q: How much are you still in touch with Connor Bedard?  “Yeah I still talk to him quite a bit, I mean in the summer we get to see each other almost every day training, so hopefully get to go say hi to him after this.”

Some pictures of them together during the offseason. training pics from their trainer's website.

This is a post from the inline hockey league they competed in, and this is a video from one of the summer tournaments they played in together. 

They also like to interact with each other on instagram so here are some of their replies on each other's posts:

During the NHL draft in 2022, Connor Bedard, who was slated to be the first-overall pick for the 2023 draft, flew out to Montreal to watch the draft. 

Coincidentally, this year was also the year that Fraser Minten got drafted to the Leafs. The draft happened on July 7, 2022, just two days after Minten’s birthday. According to this tweet, he had arrived at Montreal on his birthday, and would be rooming with Connor Bedard. 

“I remember before our bantam season, he wasn’t even really projected to get drafted into the WHL,” says the 17-year-old Bedard, who helped Canada advance to Saturday’s final at the world junior hockey championship at Rogers Place. “He put up, like, 70 points or something like that, so I knew he was going to be the steal of the draft. To see him going as high as he did to Toronto, one of the biggest franchises — he was pumped. It was really cool for me to see that.” “He was obviously a big help in my career,” Minten says of Bedard, “from playing with him and just learning so much from being by his side, and watching how hard he works every day and how much he gives to the game ... So, it was really cool for him to be there and it was really good for him, as well, getting a bit of a look at what it’s like in person prior to (his draft year).”

When asked about the pressure Connor was facing as the projected first overall pick, Fraser also said:

“I don’t think he worries about that stuff at all,” Minten says. “For him, it’s just about playing the game. He just loves the game, and everything that comes with it is a bonus for him. I don’t think he’s worried at all about what other people say … I think, by the end, he’ll be right where everyone hopes he is.”

Also worth highlighting that this is the title of the article all of these quotes come from:

Another fun fact about the 2022 draft; Chicago gave Toronto the pick that they used for Minten.

In a trade with Chicago, the Leafs traded Petr Mrazek and a first round pick (25th) in exchange for a second round pick (38th). The second round pick would turn out to be what the Leafs used to draft Fraser Minten. 

“And like Cowan, the Leafs were set on Minten. Though they were slated to pick at 25, they began to believe they could nab Minten later on. He was still on the board on day two at 38 after a trade with the Chicago Blackhawks allowed the Leafs to pick high in the second round.”

Also, just for the sake of including this somewhere, they also share an agent. 

The summer before the 2023-24 season began, the two of them lived together in Toronto for a few weeks. Why Connor was in Toronto is not actually known, but they’ve both brought this up multiple times—when they refer to living together, this is the time period they’re talking about. 

In this interview, Fraser gets asked about the phone calls he made after making the team and says he “... called my good buddies from junior teams and bantam midget teams I played with right away.”

According to this interview, Connor and Fraser exchanged messages of support for one another during training camp. Minten was also asked who was the better player when they were linemates in West Van: 

"Him, by a mile," Minten said. "By a mile. Hopefully we get to play against each other at some point."

After Minten made the Leafs roster, “his WHL pal Connor Bedard sent him a good luck message and said  “I hope I play against you”.”

The Leafs and Blackhawks played against each other on October 16th 2023, which was their first NHL game against one another. Connor was asked about playing against him for the first time:

“Of course you dream about it, once I got picked and we knew he was here of course—we actually lived together for a little bit this summer in Toronto, so we talked about it a bit there. I don’t know if you guys [in the media] expected him to make the team. In his mind, he expected to make the team, and I never expected anything less from him. The way he earned that spot, he showed everyone,” Bedard said. “Right when it was announced he made the team, we were fired up, talking about how it feels like yesterday we were playing on a line in bantam. It’s crazy how time flies. It’s really special.”

Minten was asked what he remembers from their days of playing together, if they ever talked about playing against each other at the NHL level:

“I don’t think we ever talked about that, obviously we both wanted that to happen—probably him more than me at that point, he probably thought it was more of a realistic possibility. But I remember he was just unreal, better than everybody and could score at will, and was also just a super humble and hardworking kid.”

Minten also got asked “how to stop him”, and said “he can do everything, so you just want to limit his space, time, and get the puck away from him.” 

Later in October, in response to a question about locker room arguments over CHL rivalries, Connor’s first example of another player who came up through the WHL was: “I grew up playing with Fraser Minten in Toronto, that’s pretty cool.”

In this interview, Minten gets asked: “I don't know how many people have asked you—probably a million—being Connor Bedards close friend and teammate, I'm assuming you're not surprised with what he's done since he left North Van, in the dub and in the NHL, probably not surprised at all?”

“No, no, not at all. He works harder than anybody else, like significantly. I think his teammates in Chicago would say the same thing. He's got a level of commitment and passion and dedication that is genuinely unmatched by some of the superstars in the NHL,  I think. I think we’ll continue to see him defy people’s expectations, and even if he doesn’t he’ll be doing everything he can to, so, I wouldn’t bet against him that’s for sure.”

In 2023, Fraser Minten was selected to be the captain for World Juniors and Connor sent him a congratulatory message. 

In this video with WJC Team Canada, in response to a question about the first time scouts started showing up at his games, Minten said: 

“I remember there started being a lot of guys in black jackets at games when I started playing with Connor. There would be lots of them because he was special—still is.”

In this Leafs TikTok where the prompt was to give a compliment to the person behind you, Minten points to his teammate’s jersey and says “best 98 out there.” Presumably a friendly chirp towards first overall 2023 draft pick Connor Bedard.

In this media availability from the Leafs-Blackhawks game in December 2024, Minten was asked what it was like to play against Connor again a year later. 

“Yeah it's awesome, anytime it’s the uh—you know, it's the NHL and we’re playing against each other. If you told us that when we were 13-14 we would’ve found it really cool, so it’s special for sure.”

Fraser Minten scored his second NHL goal against the Chicago Blackhawks later that day. 

(BONUS: Fraser usually has a crazy game when he plays against Connor. In the Pats vs Blazers game he was awarded second star for his 2 goals and 1 assist game, totaling 3 points in the Blazers 9-3 victory over the Pats. He scored his second NHL goal against the Blackhawks, helping Toronto win against Chicago 4-1. In 2025 after being recalled by the Bruins and playing vs the Blackhawks, despite a loss, he led the team in both SOG and shifts taken. Pasta went on to say that Minten’s line was the best line that night.)

After the trade to Boston, Minten spent a couple games playing in Providence before getting the call up to play for the Bruins, a couple days before the Bruins were set to play against the Blackhawks in Boston. There were no schedules the day before the game so they took the opportunity to get dinner together at Abe & Louie’s. 

“They had the opportunity to go out to dinner last night. And for Fraser Minten, he just got to town. Asked, where’d you decide to go, where’d you take him? He said ‘I googled steakhouse and some place– Abe something came up.’ I said, good choice! Abe & Louie’s!”

BONUS: idk where to put this bc for some reason I can’t find where this came from but here’s a picture of Minten wearing a Chicago Blackhawks hat from 2021 (also, somehow the only NHL teams that Minten follows on instagram are the Leafs (drafted to) the Bruins (traded to) the Canucks (vancouver kid) and the Blackhawks (???)

(same hat just backwards, from minten's instagram)

4/16/25 - this is all for now. this primer will be updated anytime something significant happens.

[kafka-ish]

I want to be Art’s dealer when he needs an eighth after one of his games. I want him to get my number from Patrick because he’s new to this & doesn’t know anyone or anywhere else to get it. Hey, u got any weed? He texts him.

Not on me.

Shit.

I know I’ve been going crazy

Do u know anyone?

The next message is your number. No name. No address. Nothing. But Art’s desperate for a cool down that doesn’t include a tub of ice or a communal sauna. He’s going out on a limb here—hitting send as soon as Patrick relays the message. Nothing too suspicious. You’re at home when you receive a text from an unknown sender.

Maybe Art: Hey, Patrick gave me ur number. This is Art

Come by around 9

You tell him which dorm.

Maybe Art: Okay

He’s at your door at nine sharp, still in his tennis uniform. He’s sweaty from practice, nervously gripping his racket bag and wondering if he should knock or text. Obviously he’s never done this.

He knocks. Doesn’t expect to be met with a girl half his size on the other side. Maybe you’re just the dude’s girlfriend and you happen to be over and end up answering. And in that case he really shouldn’t be looking but he can’t help it. Your hair is wet like you just got done showering. Your shorts ride up, or maybe he’s just imagining things. But he’s not imagining your shirt that’s see-through and barely covers your abdomen. He introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Art.” Maybe that’ll clear up the confusion.

“Yeah you texted me earlier. Come on in.” You leave the door open. You also leave Art dumbfounded.

Art makes sure to shut the door behind him but he doesn’t sit down. Stands awkwardly by the entrance, wondering what he should do with his bag, thumbing the strap.

“So Patrick sent you, huh?” Your voice comes from the kitchen and Art nods even though you can’t see him. He realizes this and dumbly says yes. You look up from the counter, sandwich bag in hand, and you smile at Art who’s fiddling his thumbs by the doorway. “You can sit down. Make yourself at home.”

"Cool." He settles down on your couch, looking around the place, trying not to be obvious even though it is. You smile, wanting to relax him. That's what he's here for, isn't it? His tennis bag is at his feet and he rests his hands on his knees, trying to take up as little space as possible.

"I won't bite, you know," you say, sitting next to him. You place a scale on the coffee table next to a tray of weed that's already been ground. About an ounce, though Art's never seen that much weed at one time. The only time he smokes is with Patrick every once in a while.

"Yeah, I know. I just--"

"What? Is this your first time or something?"

"No! I--I mean. Buying yes." His cheeks are red.

"Okay well don't worry. It's real easy." Art nods. Believes this. "Well."

"Well what?"

"Now I know why Patrick sent you to me."

"Sometimes it's easy." You laugh. Like an inside joke you have but only with yourself. "Sorry I shouldn't have said that."

"No it's fine." And Art gives you this look. Like it is fine. Keep going. Explain everything to me. He wants to know the basics, the hard stuff and everything in between. You just shake your head. Ask how much he needs. "How much do people usually get?"

"Depends on the person." You shrug.

"How much does Patrick get?"

"Like an ounce. Half if he's short on cash." Art raises his eyebrow, shocked he didn't know that about his friend.

"So I should get an ounce," Art says. More of a question than a statement. He's testing the waters. Putting himself out there.

"How much do you smoke?" You push back. You want him to be careful. You also can't risk putting a super hot new customer in danger.

"Honestly? Only with Patrick." He's bashful when he admits this. You probably think he's lame now and totally off your radar. You're never gonna let him step foot into this apartment let alone sell to him again.

"Yeah you don't need an ounce," you say smiling, thinking of how he came in all politely with his tennis racket just like a puppy, tail tucked nervously between its legs, not knowing if he should stand or sit, silently observing your things. He has a good head on his shoulder with a future ahead of him and here you are selling him weed. Who are you to take advantage of such a thing just because Patrick sent him?

"So what do I need?"

"Probably some melatonin and a really good massage. But I'll give you an eighth and pretend like this never happened." This is the first time you've felt bad about selling. You take a jar from a drawer. There's even more weed in it than on the table, but in clumps. Green wads with streaks of purple. You set each on the scale in individuals first before packaging his pile in the bag you grabbed from earlier. "Here."

"How much?"

"On me this time. Think of it as a sample. You got a grinder or you smoking with Patrick?" Art's at a loss for words. He wants to pay you. He has cash too. He'll take you out to dinner. Instead he just says

"No, I, uh. Don't."

"Want me to roll you a joint?"

But before he can say anything you already find yourself folding a zig-zag with the filter, scooping the weed you have out with your fake nail into the paper. Art watches your hands. An expert at work. He thinks how everyone has their own niche and this is yours, just like how he has the tennis court.

When you walk him out you tell him to be safe. You're still smiling. You've never been this happy to not get money. He's about to leave but says, "I can pay, you know. I want this to be an honest transaction and everything."

"Art, I'm a drug dealer."

"Yeah, well--"

"Bye, Artie."

[cosmicbucky]

chronicles

summary: the story of you and bucky as told through different dates

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3274

warnings: fluff, allusions to mature themes, brief swearing, implication of major death (i'm sorry in advance)

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i deleted lol - (time travelling)

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

《《April 17th》》

You finished curling the last strand of hair, pinning it all neatly in place before staring at your reflection. You analyzed every inch of your face, scrutinizing each choice - was the lipstick the right shade? Were your cheeks too pink? Was your hair proper enough?

“Well, are you ready? It’s been ages!” you heard through the door, your best friend’s voice pulling you from your trance. 

You cleared your throat, dabbing your hands along your hair to press down any flyaways. “Coming!”

You pulled open the door, coming face to face with her as she leaned against the wall opposite you. She grinned, eyeing you up and down as you ran your hands along your dress, absently wondering if it was the right choice. 

She whistled playfully, chuckling softly. “Don’t you clean up well! This boy won’t know what hit him.”

You smiled confidently, your worries momentarily disappearing. “Thanks, sugar.”

A few beats of silence passed before a light knock came from the door of your tiny apartment. You gave your friend a pointed look, the nerves flooding back in an instant.

She smiled reassuringly at you, lightly shoving you down the hall. “Don’t be nervous. He’s a great guy, and he practically begged for a date with you,” she reminded you, hot on your heels.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you entered the living room. “Okay. You’re right. I got this.”

Confidence restored within you, you walked over and opened the door, grinning at the sight.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” he greeted with a smile, eyes quickly trailing over you. “As always,” he added with a wink. 

“Thank you, James,” you said with a giggle, heat rising in your already pink cheeks as you took in his appearance; a well fitted suit, new looking shoes, slicked back hair. He really is as dashing as everyone says. “You look quite lovely yourself.”

He smiled and laughed, holding his hand out for you to take. “I told you. Call me Bucky.”

《《June 22nd》》

“Do you wanna go for a walk?” Bucky asked, sprawled out on the floor of his bedroom as you took up his bed.

You blinked up at the ceiling in shock before craning your neck to look down at him. “A walk? Buck, it’s a million degrees outside!” you said incredulously.

You were currently stuck in one of the worst heat waves to hit the city in years, and no matter how little you had on (in the privacy of yours or Bucky’s bedroom, of course) your skin still felt like it was melting off. Especially considering the activities that always resulted from the two of you wearing next to nothing; though, how could you ever complain about that?

Bucky sighed dramatically, groaning as he sat up. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m going stir-crazy here and I figured me, you, and Stevie could go get some ice cream.”

You opened your mouth to say no, but you were met with puppy dogs that you can never say no to- and he knew it. 

“Alright,” you agreed, sitting up to get dressed. “You owe me one,” you teased, slipping on your blouse. 

“Anything for you, doll,” he agreed, smiling brightly. He jumped up and threw his clothes on in a matter of seconds, running to his door. “Steve, get your punk ass up! We’re going to get ice cream!” he called down the hall.

It was silent for a moment, before footsteps were heard puttering about in the room beside you. “Okay!” came his reply, muffled through the wall.

You giggled quietly and finished dressing, taking Bucky’s hand and heading to the living room where Steve was already waiting. 

The three of you strolled down the sunny street, Steve a few paces behind as you and Bucky chatted about how quiet it was with everyone hiding away inside. Steve never paid any mind to the fact that he was constantly a tagalong - you were always kind to him, and if he was being honest, he enjoyed watching the happiness that radiated from you and Bucky.

After a few agonizingly hot minutes, you all arrived at the parlour, quickly entering and placing an order as Bucky paid for everything.

“Thanks, Buck,” Steve mumbled through a mouth full of ice cream, trying to eat it all before it was lost to the sun.

“Yes, thank you, honey,” you agreed, giving him a sweet kiss that tasted like vanilla and strawberries.

He smiled into the kiss, chasing your lips before grinning at you and Steve. “Any time.”

《《October 3rd》》

“You are such a jerk!” you yelled at Bucky, huffing in exasperation.

“Oh, come on! It’s not my fault I’m better than you,” he argued back.

You glared at him for a moment before turning back to your pad of paper. “Stop sinking my stupid ships,” you mumbled angrily, marking another X on the page.

Bucky only laughed at you, shaking his head. “Come on, love. We can quit playing if you want.”

You scoffed. “I don’t need your pity. We’ll finish this.”

He laughed at you once more, and as you watched his eyes crinkle and face glow, you suddenly weren’t mad that he was winning any more. You were simply just happy to have this ridiculous man in your life.

“Alright, you sulk. Take your shot, let’s go. Try harder this time,” he teased, smirking at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him and set your shoulders, confidently declaring your next move. 

He studied his page for a moment before he slumped his shoulders, tossing his pencil onto the table. “Well,” he declared. “I’ll be damned”

“No way,” you doubted, a grin working its way onto your face.

He smiled at you, shrugging his shoulders. “You win, baby.”

You squealed gleefully, throwing your hands up in victory as you rambled on about being better than him.

Bucky stayed where he was, watching you in pure delight, amazed at how the littlest things can make you so happy.

After a few moments you settled down, turning your gaze back to him. “Maybe next time,” you said sympathetically, unable to keep the grin off your face.

Shaking his head with a laugh, he leaned over the table and gave you an affectionate kiss. “Maybe next time,” he agreed with a soft smile.

As he left to get you both a drink, you began putting away the game and couldn’t help but laugh as you took his sheet.

“Hey, don’t look at that!” you heard him say as he returned to the room, rushing to set the drinks down and take it from you.

“I barely sunk any ships, Buck,” you concluded, trying to take the sheet back.

“I know,” he agreed with a nod, tossing the paper into the box as he sat back down.

You chuckled and followed suit, sitting down in your previous spot on the floor. “You didn’t need to let me win, James.”

“I know,” he agreed again, continuing to put the game away.

“So then why did you?” you asked curiously, crossing your arms over the table as you studied his face.

He smiled softly, giving you a half shrug. “You get happy when you win,” he said simply, as if it was obvious.

You opened your mouth to reply, though before you could he continued speaking. “And you know, given that I’m in love with you and everything, there isn’t anything I want more than for you to be happy.”

“What?” you breathed out, stunned by his words; it was the first time he ever said them to you.

“What?” he asked, feigning obliviousness.

“What did you just say?” you asked quietly.

“I want you to be happy,” he said, taking a sip from his glass. 

“Before that,” you corrected, shaking your head. 

“You get happy when you win?” he asked, doing his best to fight off the giggles building in his chest. 

“Right in the middle,” you said, your lips twitching with the first signs of a smile. 

“Oh,” he said, pretending to only just now realize what you meant. “You mean when I said I was in love with you,” he said casually.

You smiled like a fool as he repeated the words, gazing softly at him. “I’m sorry, I still didn’t catch that. One more time?”

He beamed, reaching over to grab your waist and slide you closer to him. “I-” he began, placing a kiss on your nose. “Love-” he continued, pecking the apple of your cheek. “You,” he finished with one last kiss to your other cheek. 

“I love you, too,” you admitted through a fit of giggles, the smiles never leaving either of your faces as he captured your lips with his.

《《March 10th》》

“Bucky,” you whispered into the room, nudging the man sleeping beside you.

“Hm,” he hummed in response, tightening his grip on your waist as he pulled you closer.

“Guess what?" you urged, nudging him lightly once more. 

He sighed and rolled onto his back, keeping his hold of you. “What?” he asked gruffly, wiping sleep from his eyes. 

“It’s your birthday,” you sing-songed, giggling happily as you pecked his cheek. 

He groaned and turned his head towards you. “You woke me up for that?” he asked in annoyance, though the ghost of a smile was on his lips.

“Yes!” you exclaimed. “It’s a special day!”

Bucky simply scoffed, closing his eyes as he shook his head. “I have had many birthdays, doll. It isn’t a special day.”

You playfully slapped his arm, chuckling softly. “Not for you, silly. For me!”

Fully awake now, Bucky sat up. “Okay, I’m lost. Why is my birthday a special day for you… and not me?”

Grinning, you sat up as well. “Because, today is the day that I get to cater to the man who constantly caters to me,” you explained eagerly.

“And he doesn’t get to argue about it!” you quickly added when he opened his mouth to respond.

“Fine,” he sighed. “Then you don’t get to argue about this,” he said before he threw you back down on the bed, kissing every inch of your bare skin that he could find as you squealed in delight. 

“Baby, I need to get up,” you told him once your laughter died down a little.

He hummed against your neck, nipping at your skin. “You tellin’ me you’d rather leave than enjoy what I’m about to do to you? You know what? Don’t answer that. I’m the birthday boy, so I choose. You stay”

“Okay, but that means I can’t bake your cake,” you said with a giggle.

His movements stilled and he looked up at you with raised eyebrows. “Cake?” he asked. “Why didn’t you say that sooner?”

Leaping off the bed, he ran to the kitchen and left you to trail after him a moment later. You stood in the doorway, watching in amusement as he scurried about, opening and closing nearly all the cabinets. Yet, he wasn’t taking anything out.

“Buck?” you asked, wondering what he was doing,

He turned to you, an embarrassed smile on his face. “I have no idea how to bake a cake,” he confessed.

You laughed, pushing yourself off the frame and heading over to him.

“Well, let me teach you,” you offered, giving him a chaste kiss before grabbing your recipe cards. 

He watched in awe as you fished out the right card to give him before collecting the ingredients you picked up the day before. He listened eagerly, doing what you said with so much concentration you had to continuously kiss away the scrunch between his brows. 

Everything went well, and Bucky placed the pan in the oven with a proud smile before taking you in his arms.

“You know, maybe today is a special day for me after all,” he declared, placing a lingering kiss on your forehead. 

“Because you learned how to bake a cake?” you asked curiously, chuckling as you rested your head on his chest. 

He laughed, the vibrations beneath your head making you smile. “Because I learned how to bake a cake,” he confirmed, kissing the crown of your head. 

Though really, it was because today was the day he realized he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you - not that he’d tell you that. Not yet, anyway. 

After a few minutes, he pulled away with a small sigh. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

“Oh, I can do it, honey,” you said. “You go clean yourself up, you have icing on your face.”

“I do?” he asked, bringing up a hand to wipe at his face. 

“Yeah, right- there,” you said, smearing a blob of icing on his cheek. 

“You did not,” he said with a gasp, staring at you in shock. 

“Oh, I did,” you gloated, grinning mischievously. 

“You’ll regret that,” was the only warning he gave you before retaliating. 

Before you knew it, the kitchen was in even more ruin and you were sprawled out on the floor in a fit of laughter. 

You turned your head towards Bucky, taking his hand in yours. “Happy birthday, my love,” you said softly, a chuckle still in your voice. 

“May I unwrap my present now, please?” he asked, a smirk dancing across his face. 

“Only since you asked so nicely,” you teased, letting him gather you in his arms so he could finish what he started in the bedroom.

《《August 6th》》

“Game night?” Bucky asked from where he lay underneath you, gently toying with your hair.

The two of you were lounging lazily on the couch, boredom seeping into your bones.

“Game night,” you agreed, shifting so you could both sit up.

Bucky stood with a groan and made his way towards the door. “Wanna start setting up? I’ll go grab everything from the kitchen.”

“Of course,” you nodded, heading over and grabbing a few boxes from the shelf.

You placed them on the table, tossing the thickest pillows you two had on the floor before plopping down. You grabbed the box of battleship, smiling at the memory of how Bucky told you he loved you for the very first time. Your heart nearly leapt out of your throat as you emptied the contents and a ring twirled across the table.

“Bucky?” you called out, watching as it spun and spun before falling still.

When you realized you haven’t heard anything from him you called out again, standing up. “James-” you began, stopping short when you saw him behind you, down on one knee.

“Out of all the things I have done in my life… loving you, and being loved by you, has been my greatest success,” he started, your heart swelling at the way his voice trembled ever so slightly. “The moment I first saw you was the moment I believed angels were real, because how could you possibly be anything else? I still can’t believe you didn’t laugh in my face when I introduced myself - someone like you, actually giving me the time of day. I must have been the luckiest guy in the universe, and I still am, because you have shown me such happiness that I didn’t even know was possible, and cared for me in a way that I didn’t think anyone would. I have never been so sure of anything like the way I’m sure about us. So here I am, asking you, the love of my life, to be with me forever. So, how ‘bout it, angel? Will you marry me?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t answer. You could only stand there, nodding your head as you wiped at the tears streaming down your face before you threw yourself at him, tackling him to the floor in a flurry of cries and kisses.

“Does this mean yes?” Bucky asked nervously, his hands coming up to cup your face. 

“It means yes,” you told him. “Definitely yes.”

He let out a breath neither of you knew he was holding and kissed you one more time, pouring all the emotions and feelings he possibly could into it. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he said urgently, scrambling over to the table. “May I?” he asked, holding his hand out to you. 

You grinned and giggled uncontrollably as you placed your hand in his, letting him slip the pretty ring onto your finger. 

《《January 11th》》

“Today’s the day,” Steve said, walking up behind Bucky and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Today’s the day,” Bucky repeated solemnly, turning to give his friend a half smile. 

Steve dropped his hand, placing himself in front of Bucky and brushing nonexistent fluff off his shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know how the hell to do this, Stevie,” admitted Bucky, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Steve nodded understandingly, taking a deep breath. “You remember how much you love her. How when you first saw her, you punched me - thanks for that, by the way - and you said ‘Stevie, you see that dame over there? I’m gonna marry her one day’. And you remember how you made that outrageous proclamation true.”

“That was pretty outrageous, wasn’t it?” replied Bucky, a laugh finally escaping him as he recalled the day.

Steve smiled in relief at the sound. “It really was, Buck. But your crazy ass was right. Like always.”

Bucky remained silent for a moment, the ghost of a smile on his face. “I had no idea someone could be so beautiful. I still can’t believe that someone like her could love me.”

“Me either,” Steve joked, playfully smacking Bucky’s arm.

Bucky looked at him, face stoic, before he let out a laugh. “Fuck you, Steve,” he said, shaking his head. He quickly fell silent again, as if he suddenly remembered where he was and why he was here. “God I miss her, Stevie.”

“I know, Buck. I do, too,” was the only thing Steve knew to say, a sad smile on his face. 

Bucky shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry. “I don’t think I’ll ever be as happy as I was when I was with her - and I’m okay with that. I can’t - I mean she was it, you know? And those memories of her, of us… of how she loved me, how she made me feel… it’s what gets me through every day now.”

“They’re good memories,” Steve confirmed sincerely, chuckling softly. “Really was an epic love, huh?”

“Absolute love of my life,” Bucky easily agreed. “All I can hope for is that she’s waiting for me when I can finally meet her again; she always was my angel.”

“She will be,” consoled Steve as he placed a bouquet by the headstone. “She was crazy about you.”

Bucky hummed, sitting down and setting his own flowers against the marble - a bouquet of all your favourites. “I think I’ll stay here a while, Stevie. Tell her about all the things she’s missed. Want to help?”

“Of course, Bucky. I would love to,” Steve said honestly, sitting down beside his friend.

The two of them sat there, sharing stories about the world they live in now, and how much things have changed since the three of you first met. Bucky knew you would love it, and it kills him that he can’t share it with you. That he can’t share the rest of his life with you like he was supposed to.

He sat there with his best friend and the ghost of his best girl, his heart aching and a piece of his soul missing. 

He sat there, with the years 1919-1987 staring back at him.

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | THE PARTY & THE AFTER PARTY

Warnings; Uhhhh idk?

A/N: I never had to actually make coffee at my job, I kinda jus put the filter then dump out the coffee bag so… my apologies if it sounds crazy. (For all my professional coffee makers.)

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"I have a medium lavender ice latte with oat milk for, Ana?" You call out to half full coffee shop. A blonde in about her twenties walks up to the counter, you smile before handing her her drink.

"Have a wonderful day," She grins, "Thank you so much, you too!" Your co-worker speaks up from behind you, "I still don't understand why you're not somewhere strumming your guitar."

You've been working at Hughes Coffee since you can remember, you just happened to be walking by the place and noticed the Now Hiring signs on the door, of course, you had to go through an interview process but you landed the job and became close with the owner and his daughter.

Once she had officially turned eighteen he changed the shop name in honour of her, and she absolutely loved it.

You playfully roll your eyes before turning around to fully face her, "Alora," You begin causing her to hum in response. "I literally have to stay here to keep you in check. Ever since Mr. Hughes changed the name to Alora's Coffee you've been acting a little bit stuck up." You joke, illustrating how much with your thumb and pointer finger.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever," She points behind you, "Take care of that customer. I have to use the bathroom," You jump up in the straightest position ever, saluting to her. "Yes! General!"

She laughs, walking to the back. Turning around you're met with a familiar face, "Jack."

He smiles raising his arms, "Bestie!" You chuckle, smiling at your indeed best friend. "Hey, Jack. What's up?"

He smiles, shrugging his shoulders. "Oh, nothing. Just checking in on you—" Suddenly he slams his hands on the counter, you jump and eye the shop as some customers as staring at the two of you.

"YOU REALLY THOUGHT YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH LEAVING WITHOUT SAYING GOODBYE?" He practically yells, leaning into your face. You bite down on your lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you try and hold in your laugh.

"Uh? I thought I gave my goodbyes to my best messenger, did you not receive it?" Jack leans back, hands still on the counter. "Oh! You mean Jenna?" You nod your head, waving your pointer finger at him. "Yes, yes! Jenna, yup."

"And the same Jenna that couldn't stop talking about you." Your ears perk up at this, and your heart drops, but in a good way.

"Really?" You question, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Oh, yeah!" He continues. "She was like, she has the cutest laugh ever. She's so funny where'd you meet her at? Y/N this, Y/N that! Oh, Y/N! Blah, bleh, blah." He mocks with a high-pitched voice.

"Really?" This time you can't hide it, and you're smiling like an absolute idiot. "Really. I was going to give her your Instagram but you know, you left early. So insteadddd," He drags out, and you listen in.

"I told her that you're already dating someone, but don't worry! I didn't be specific and tell her that it was me." You blink, and when Jack doesn't say anything else, you blink again.

"You're lying, right?"

He thins out his lips, shaking his head. "No, why?" You go back to being nonchalant, not wanting Jack to have this over you.

One time you had liked this girl freshman year and Jack would not stop talking about it. And every time he'd see her he'd tell her why won't she go out with you, or how she should give you her number. The girl would always laugh and shrug her shoulders.

Or Jack would come up with these fake stories about how you saved an entire family from a burning building, or how you had found the cure to cancer, the girl surprisingly played along, and would say stuff along the lines of, "Oh, I remember that." Or, "Oh yeah! I was there too."

"No reason," You say shrugging your shoulders, Jack nods staring at you a bit longer to see if he broke your shell of nonchalantness, if that was a thing.

Accepting defeat, but not fully he sighs out. "Welp, I have to go now. I promised Mason I'd stop by his place to try out his new sugar cookie recipe."

You send him a thumbs up, "Alright! Have fun!" You shout out, as he walks out the double glass doors.

You turned around grabbed a rag, and wiped down counters. It was rather late in the morning so it wasn't so busy, well, it wasn't as busy as it was earlier this morning, you were dead-ass sweating.

It comes back to you that Alora never came back out, so you decide to head to the back and go inside the employee break room. You're met with Alora laying across two chairs eating a bag of chips.

"Is this what you do every time you say you're going to the bathroom?" She jumps in surprise, sitting up she removes her left airpod. "Hello, friend." She grins cheekily. You send her a wave.

"Don't you think you should go back to the front?" She starts shooing you off with her hand, you back up, but remain looking at her.  "What about you?" She shushes, continuing her shooing motions."

You sigh out, leaning against the counter as you watch the customers in the store talk to their friends or type away on their computers.

You're so into the view you didn't hear the door open nor see the customer walk up towards the counter. Until you hear a ding noise come from the bell sitting on top of the counter.

"Shit," You mutter to yourself, you reach behind you, tying your apron tighter before walking over to the woman. "Fucking Jack," You slightly hear from her and it finally hits you once she takes off her glasses.

"That fucking sneaky bastard." You mumble to yourself.

"Hey, Jenna." You smile, Jenna smiles back placing her glasses in her purse. "Hey," She looks into your eyes, hating to admit she missed them, and so suddenly.

"Now I see why Jack told me to come here." You scratch your head, nodding. "He is a sneaky little bastard." She laughs at your words, "He actually called you the same thing when you left without saying goodbye, well technically you did, but.. I don't know." She catches herself rambling, making you smile.

"Did you want anything to drink?" You ask, drumming your fingers on the countertop. "It's on the house."

"Oh! Sure," Her eyes scan the menu, then you, specifically your name tag. You don't miss the smirk that slightly appears on her lips.

"Surprise me." Just as you're about to respond, Alora walks back out. "Good morning, how are you today?"

Jenna sends her a slight smile, "I'm great, thank you." She gives you one last look before going to sit down. Once it's clear that Jenna is no longer focused on you, Alora grabs your arm, her jaw-dropping. "Was that fucking Wednesday Addams?" You roll your eyes, moving to make Jenna's coffee."

You prepare one shot of Espresso Roast, and as you wait you pull out your phone, opening your messages with Jack.

i hate you

BESTIE

BESTIE DON'T SAY THAT?

i'm not the one who left w/o saying goodbye

I ASKED JENNA TO SAY GOODBYE?

whatever

don't you have to go like

impress her w your barista skills?

you're welcome by the way

goodbye jack

OH NOW U WANNA

SAY GOODBYE

You laugh before putting away your phone. And pouring your Espresso Roast into the mug.

"Her name is Jenna. But yes, she has played Wednesday Addams." Alora watches you, and her smile increases. "You know... I'm very happy that you work here."

You chuckle, preparing your froth milk. Using the Nespresso Aeroccino, you put the milk on the medium froth setting. And add in a bit of vanilla syrup, stirring it in the coffee. "You're only saying that because every now and then Jack will recommend your shop to one of his famous friends,"

She throws her hands up excitedly, "One of his very attractive famous friends!" You lean against the counter waiting for your milk. "Could you watch the counter while I talk to her?" Your voice is lower than usual.

"I fucking got you!" You can't help but laugh, taking your milk and gently pouring it inside the cup until it's almost full. Alora packages up a cookie before softly handing it to you.

"Go get her tiger," Rolling your eye playfully, you make your way toward Jenna, cookie and drink in hand. She sets down her phone and her face lights up seeing you make your way over to her booth.

"A blonde vanilla latte and a chocolate chip cookie for the one and only," You place her order in front of her, sitting down across the table.

She eyes you as she takes a sip, humming in joy. "Wow, this is good." She licks her lips, placing down the cup.

"So... Y/N," She begins. You fight back a smile, looking down at your name tag. "How long have you been addicted to cigarettes."

If you had something in your mouth you definitely would've spit it out. But instead, you're taken aback, "Uh? I don't know? A while,"

She hums, taking another sip of the drink you made her. "Not a lot of people know it but, I actually specialize in helping people with addictions."

You chuckle, "Really?"

"Of course, I'm a professional." You tap your fingers on the table. "So how do your services work exactly?"

"Usually I charge a hefty amount of money, but since we're such good friends. Money is not a problem, instead.." You raise your eyebrows in anticipation.

"Let's make a deal." You nod, telling her to go on. "You let me take you out on seven dates, if I don't manage to at least help you fight your addiction then you don't have to worry about seeing my face ever again. But if I do, then I get to take you out on more."

A huge smile has appeared on your face, "You're going to take me out? To help fight my addiction?" She nods, again sipping on her drink.

"Do we have a deal?" You hold out your hand, and she quickly shakes it.

"It's a deal Ortega," She smirks but doesn't hide it this time.

[darkredsugarcookie]

The Tower - Bucky Barnes x Stark's Daughter

Author note: hey hunny bunnies okay so this is also going up on wattpad and it will be more cohesive there, but this is the official start to The Tower, the original fic that The Pressure of His Lips is from. Most of this is proofread by @averyjoyysworld (love you sunshine) but feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Summary:

Money, Sex, Power. Love that's not supposed to be.

Cassandra Stark is a twenty year old up and coming model in Manhattan, New York. She's used to the spotlight- She's been in it her whole life, alongside her best friend.

Cass is the party heiress that intimidates a room just by walking in. She doesn't bond, doesn't care, doesn't love.

Until one thing leads to another and suddenly her best friend's uncle, her father's enemy, the only man she should absolutely not want is the one pulling her in. And Cassandra is left to discover that being loved right can set a lot of things straight.

Or not.

Warnings (not specifically for this part, but in general): alcohol use, mentions of past SA, violence, descriptions of wounds and blood, explicit language, unplanned pregnancy (not upon the main character), drug use, descriptions of nightmares, hints at EDs, eventual smut

Prologue

The sun cast right into my eyes, a stark reminder that I had forgotten to close the curtains the night before. It was a patch of warmth on the mound of blankets on my queen sized bed, the floor to ceiling windows always too pretty to be perfect.

My head was aching with the thrum of a hangover, my body moving like mud through the mess of deep purple and black blankets. “Jarvis, shut the blinds,” I muttered, pushing my bangs back from my face. 

I had every intention of going back to sleep when I heard “September” by Earth, Wind, and Fire start playing from the main room. 

Damn it, Peter.

My bedroom door swung open, the weight of my best friend dropping onto my mattress as she pulled the blankets from my face. “Avery?” I groaned, shoving her away. 

“I was gone for a week and this is how you react?” she said. 

I immediately sat up and pulled her into a hug. “Do not ever leave me here with these crazy people ever again,” I replied. “I almost went insane.”

“I’m sure you were fine,” she assured. “Big day.”

“What do you mean?” I said as I shoved off the blankets, retrieving a pair of sweats from the floor. My eyes hurt a little from falling asleep in my makeup. “Jarvis, open the blinds. Sorry, buddy.”

I snagged the makeup wipes from my vanity to try and get most of the makeup off as I took the iced coffee she offered me. “My uncle is moving in today, remember?”

Groaning, I rubbed my eyes. “Damn it. I forgot about that.” 

Despite the fact I practically knew him as well as I knew everyone else. Avery talked about him constantly— he bordered on being a better father than her own and she was ecstatic that he was finally coming back from the recovery program in Wakanda. 

I knew all the same things everyone else did. I knew his past, all the reasons my dad wasn’t a fan of him being here. It’d been a back and forth fight for months before he finally agreed.

“This will certainly be interesting,” I said as I walked into my bathroom to clean up. Avery followed, parking herself on the closed toilet seat. 

“You’ve met him before,” she said as I splashed warm water over my face. 

“Yeah, like two years ago,” I replied. “And for five minutes.” 

“But he was nice.”

“I thought he was hot. We didn’t speak enough for me to figure out if he’s nice or not.”

Avery rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You guys will get along fine. He’s nothing like my dad.”

“Thank God.”

Steve Rogers was the bane of my existence. From his insistent need to demean and belittle my best friend to his constant pity party since his wife left almost ten years ago, I couldn't stand him. Natasha always told me that’s what made me most like my dad. 

“I promise not to be too mean,” I said as I dug my skincare from the cabinet. “Besides, we were like, what, eighteen the last time we saw him? When he was in town for a few days?” 

“You were eighteen,” she corrected. “I was sixteen.” Avery shoved her blonde curls back from her face. “It’ll be a good change of pace.”

“We’ll see.”

“What are you doing today?” she asked as she scrolled through her phone.

“I have a photoshoot in two hours. Wanna come?” 

  “Oh my god, yes,” she replied. “Can we get Taco Bell after?” 

“After,” I responded. “But yes. Go get ready.” 

She shot up from her seat and kissed my cheek before rushing out of the room.  I really needed to get started on planning her birthday.

By the time we got back to the tower, the sun was setting over the city and the way they’d curled my hair today was starting to bother me. Avery was at my side, helping shove the door open as my hands were full of iced coffee, my Vogue copy from the mail, my purse, and my bag of clothes. “No, please!” I begged. “I won’t keep you out forever, I just really want to go. Just a few hours!” 

“No,” Avery laughed as we walked into the foyer. “Not happening. I have an essay due tonight.”

“You’re dropping out anyway,” I said, to which she violently shushed me. I stopped and stared at her. “You haven’t told him yet.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Avery.”

“I’ll do it, okay?” She set her bag on the counter and turned back to me. 

“You really need to—” 

But she saw something over my shoulder and shoved past me, leaving me to follow her with my eyes in confusion. 

I set down my things, blowing out a breath as I saw her run right into his arms. 

Or… maybe? No, there’s no way that’s him. 

“Cassandra, there you are,” Dad said, waving me over. “Come be polite.” “I’m your daughter, manners aren’t exactly my thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “That’s—”

“It’s fine, Stark,” Bucky said, giving his niece another squeeze around the shoulders. “I remember her. Cassandra, right?”

I nodded, but I was a little focused on the fact that he was significantly… bigger than when I last saw him. His hair was a little longer, reaching past his chin, but those blue eyes hadn’t changed. “Cass,” I corrected. “I only get called Cassandra when I’m in trouble.”

A small smile pulled at his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’ll be upstairs,” Dad said. “Steve’s room is up there too. Spoiled bastard.”

Avery snorted. “He prefers the ‘space,’” she said, rolling her eyes. 

“Go easy on your old man, bug,” Bucky said, nudging her shoulder. 

A small laugh escaped me at the irony of that statement. When he looked up at me, a quizzical look on his face, I just said, “You’ll see. I’m going out.”

“Cass—” Avery started. 

“Offer is still open, sunshine,” I said as I backed away. I shoved my wine red hair from my face, turning around to grab my things. I glanced back at the man standing in the middle of everyone. If I could… 

No. Pull it together. “It’s good to have a new face around here,” I said. 

His eyes glanced over me before he nodded. “Thanks.” 

By the time I got to my car, my phone chimed with a text from Avery. 

Avery <3: I love you, but I know that look. 

Me: What look?

Avery <3: Your “I’m gonna eat him alive” look.

Me: I am not. Too much risk for an unlikely reward.

Me: You coming or not?

Avery <3: omw

[gowonders]

eternally ♥ c.bg

summary ? : you and choi beomgyu being best friends. literally INSEPARABLE. doing everything together. everything. (mutual pining duh)

notes: are y’all getting sick of my beomgyu and besties to lover obsession? yes? TOO BAD. i ♥ this trope with this man. it’s his. moablr when can we agree that beomgyu is THE bsf>lvrs man.

warnings: cursing, non idol au, not proofread, short

beomgyu, your childhood bestfriend. you two got ‘married’ at recess multiple times, you two shared a first kiss, first breakup, let’s just say he was always there for you.

circa middle school… “she was ugly anyways, gyu!!” “no she wassnnttttttt.”

around high school? “have you kissed anyone, gyu?” “yeah?” “show me how.”

you two were always attached at the hip, doing everything together, and honestly? you can’t but notice how hard you’ve been falling for him lately too.

everytime you’re at his house, watching corny romance movies, laying in his arms as he braids you hair, you always imagined you and beomgyu in those situations.. until the main characters do something absolutely stupid, making you both double over laughing, hitting eachother as you giggle.

or when you were at the beach, and you made a sandcastle, and in the sand he wrote ‘beomgyu+yn’ with a heart next to it.

it made you crazy. you needed him to be yours.

and you didn’t know, but beomgyu liked you back— no. loved you back.

he was so obvious with his flirting, told all his friends about you, told his family about you, but you were the only one who didn’t know.

he bought you stuff, always made you take photo strips with him at the mall, and you guys ‘platonically kissed’ all the time.

so why did he think you didn’t like him?

and why didn’t you think he liked you?

because.. you were both painfully oblivious. your friends saw it, your family, anyone who met both of you at the same time saw it.

and you only saw it when you were at your house, parents gone shopping..

”yn. did you take the ice cream i left here last night…..?” he asks, voice getting playfully angry.

with a giggle, your head leans against the couch, yelling into the kitchen. “mayyyybeeeeeee…!”

with a loud huff, he shuts the freezer and runs over to the couch and pins you down, starting to tickle you.

”beomgyu you bitch!! stop!!!!!” you say, your arms flailing as he relentlessly attacks you, both of you giggling at the moment.

until you pay him back, sitting up and tickling him too.. he’s definitely loud.. screaming ringing all throughout your house before he pins you back down, but this time he stops.

his hands are wrapped around your wrists, keeping you from moving, and he’s sitting on your thighs, so you don’t try and get him again.. but he only realizes now how close you are.. and if he moved a few inches closer, he could just kiss you.

and maybe if he confessed now, he could. but would that ruin the friendship? everything?

“gyu? you good?” you ask, squirming under him, snapping him out of his trance, but all he can say is “i like you— no. love you.” you gasp quietly, managing out of his grip as you both look at eachother. the silence is so loud. “what?” you say, a breathy laugh at the end. are you dreaming?

the beomgyu that just called you a bitch, who always rolled his eyes when people shipped you, who said anything “lovey dovey” was for practice, liked you???

well? so did you.

”i like yo-“ “i heard what you said. i just can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re playing a joke on me. again.”

yeah.. he once confessed to you to ‘get your reaction’… (in reality he was just too chicken to go through with it.)

“nonononono yn!! i really do! you think all the times we’ve kissed or fake dates was because i despised you or something? no! i really like you. i will like you forever. eternally.” he says, still keeping you pinned to the couch, but you can’t even bring yourself to move, anyways..

”really??” you laugh sheepishly, was it just you or was he moving closer?? you could feel his long hair brushing against your cheeks as he just sits over you,

”yes, really!! you know what, you need to shut up. i’ve been SO obvious and you have been the most oblivious bitch ever!! it is so so annoying, yn. i think i’ve made out with you more times than the times you’ve realized i was flirting.” he says, giving you that ‘you’re stupid.’ look he always does, his eyes are narrow and his brows are furrowed. “im oblivious? weren’t you the one that—“ “shut up.” he cuts you off quickly and actually closes that gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours in a rushed manner.

that definitely shut you up!!

he pulls away, his eyes moving all over your features before shaking his head as he rolls his eyes. “so? can we date now or???” he says, his thumb running across your bottom lip.

you stall a little, then stutter for a second.. but then you just give him a nod. that nod he’s been waiting for ages to see. and that honestly makes his day.

“finally, youre still such a little asshat for eating my ice cream.” he says before peppering kisses along your cheeks.

”awe, really? i thought one of the perks of dating you would be you forgiving me?”

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—03. i think i fell in love today —word count: 7.5k —warnings: despicable tooth rotting clawing my eyes out eating the stuffing in my pillows fluff. truly its horrendous. lets talk about it. —love, mackie... i'm sleeping hopefully. right now I am hammocking. the ice cream truck just drove past. I love June.

After Paris, Chris was a bit apprehensive when it came to her ability to navigate the airport in Abu Dhabi with any sort of efficiency. Especially not now, where she needs to go through customs and register for a visitor’s visa and find her luggage and get her money exchanged. Pleasantly, though, she’s surprised at the ease she works through her notes app checklist. It’s within the hour that she’s climbing into the backseat of a taxi and heading to the hotel. 

She spends the entirety of the twenty-something minute drive doing a deep dive on Joris’ Instagram. He’s going to be waiting for you, Charles had told her the night they’d worked it all out. How he knew his friend would be free is beyond Chris, but that's not even the bigger issue at hand. The issue is, of course, that she’s had no more than a momentary interaction with Joris in the background of a FaceTime call two weeks ago. The thought of breezing past him in the hotel lobby is a mortifying one. 

It’s quarter after seven by the time she gets there, and when she catches a glance of herself in a mirror on the wall and almost bursts into laughter. Someone could tell her that she fell down the stairs in Austin and hit her head and is in a coma and it would feel more believable than her life right now. This just… this doesn’t happen to her; five star hotels in foreign countries and heavy accents and guys who call her beautiful from the other side of the globe. 

She spots Joris in an armchair on his phone at the other end of the lobby. She approaches nervously, and he stirs from his phone at her sudden proximity. “Hi,” Chris greets, sounds almost apologetic for interrupting him. “Joris, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” he nods, dragging out the vowel sounds when he glances back down at his screen. Chris wonders if he knows he’s waiting for her. 

She smiles. “I’m Chris.”

“Right!” He snaps his fingers, shoves his phone into his pocket. “Chris.” He stands and opens his arms to hug her like they’re old friends. It’s a move straight from her book, one that she’s pulled on dozens of people before. It’s not one that she’s met with often. Chris thinks they’ll get on well, her and Joris. That’s a good thing, right? Friendly friends. 

Chris’ mom had told her more than once that the quickest way to know someone’s character is through their friends. Only a maniac is rude to animals and elderly and children, she’d said a million times over, it’s the character of the people they choose to spend time with that matters. Joris has no idea Chris is silently observing his every action, picking them apart on a human level.

On the elevator ride up, Joris fills Chris in on everything that’s happened during the free practices that day, tells her that it’s been a relatively clean couple of sessions. You do know of the risk this weekend, yes? P2 or P3, he asks and answers his own question. Chris nods. If she didn’t know, she does now. The room is on the fifth floor, she notes, staring at the glowing five button as she picks at her cuticles. It hits her like a ton of bricks, her anxiety skyrocketing as the elevator ascends, her stomach left behind on the ground level. 

This whole thing is crazy, and not the quirky, silly story you tell your friends about over a vodka cran crazy. Just plain crazy. Insane. Off the wall absurd. Why, why are they sharing a room? Why is she even here? What is it about her that can’t be found somewhere, anywhere, else? And the most prudent question, the one ringing in her ears louder with each passing moment; what is it about him? 

Chris has never considered herself to be logical, not in the slightest, but she does like to maintain the idea that she’s well grounded. She might not always act in a way that makes the most sense, but she always makes those choices within the bounds of her reality. 

And, because her nerves permeate off her like a thirteen-year-old’s B.O, Joris takes a stab at cooling her down. “How was your planes?”

“Good. Smooth.” she nods, forces a smile. Her weight shifts from heel to heel, thumbs looped through her backpack straps. The floor is a shiny black marble with white and gold veins, one that commands your attention. Chris pulls her eyes from it to look at him anyway. Nervous and insane or not, she wants to make a good impression. “I could do without navigating the airport in Paris ever again, though.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “It never gets easier.”

“Does any of it?” She offers up a laugh, but it’s as genuine as the smile her face held before. 

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off with the ding of the doors opening. There, in the hallway with more marble floors and a wallpaper that walks the line between elegant and gaudy, a couple stands on a white carpet runner. The man has on a Mercedes cap. Chris wonders if they know a Formula One driver is staying on their floor. 

The four of them sidestep awkwardly around each other with polite smiles to the floor, and before she knows it Joris is holding a keycard over the lock on a heavy door and handing the piece of plastic to her. 

It’s not a room. It’s a suite. There’s a living room and a kitchenette and a whole separate bedroom to this place. It’s expensive, wildly so, she’s sure. 

She wheels her suitcase into the bedroom, leaves it in the corner by an armchair with her backpack. At the bottom of the bag is her purse, which she digs out while Joris is using the bathroom, moving things around from one bag to the other. 

The drive to the circuit is twenty minutes, at least, and Joris talks the whole time, mostly about how nervous he is and how hard he’s trying to make sure Charles doesn’t notice. Chris doesn’t tell him that Charles is also beyond nervous about the whole thing–or that he knows good and well everyone around him is losing their minds. It doesn’t seem like the type of thing that would make Joris feel any better. 

“Pascale and Enzo, you know them, yes? Charles’ Mum and brother?” Joris questions.

“Nope,” Chris shakes her head. “Not yet.”

Oh, he doesn’t say. “You’ll like them if you like Charles,” he laughs. “You do like Charles?”

Chris bites down on a smile, a laugh leaving her nose in an exhale. “I do.”

“Good, good.” He nods. “Anyway, they are not here tonight, they already have gone back to the hotel. Arthur is there, still. Do you know him?”

“I think it’s going to be easier for both of us if you just assume I don’t know anyone.”

“Ah, okay. Will do.”

Chris wonders what Charles has said about her to Joris, to Arthur, to anyone. All of the stories he has or hasn’t told them about. She has almost exclusively not talked about him back home. Not because she doesn’t want to, she just can’t figure out how to say anything without sounding like a reality television star. Maybe he’s the same way. There’s a real chance that nobody in his family even knows that she’s coming, and maybe that’s the way she’d like it to be. 

Her reunion with Charles couldn’t be more different than their first meeting. The paddock is empty with exception of team crews and straggling media members. There isn’t a Bud Light in sight and the pass hanging around her neck has a picture of her on the back. He must’ve pulled it from her Instagram, the one that he keeps talking about wanting to follow back. A picture of her and CHRISTYN ELLIOTT - FULL WEEKEND written in bold letters. 

“He’s probably at the briefing,” Joris explains, checking his watch and walking one stride for every two of Chris’. She tries her hardest to keep up with him as he expertly navigates the paddock, all while trying to memorize his moves so she doesn’t end up stranded sometime this weekend. 

A whistle gets their attention, cutting sharply through the hot desert air. Her and Joris both snap their heads around to find the perpetrator of the summons. Charles pats Pierre’s shoulder and jogs ahead of the group of drivers, all already engaged in their own conversations and heading off into different directions. 

He has such a carefree smile on his face, jogging over with happy eyes and wiggling brows and a stupid little wink that puts a smile on her face. “Hello, Christyn,” he quips, greets her with open arms. And then, once his arms are pulling her to him so tight she can’t take a full breath, when he has so much energy to give her he can’t help but rock on the sides of his feet, he whispers just for her, “Hi,” a soft kiss on the crown of her head, “I’m so glad you’re here.”

All she can think about is how warm he is. Warm, and smells so nice. She doesn’t know how she’s going to ever go home. Not when he’s so warm. 

“How was the planes?” He asks, an arm comfortable slotting around her as they resume their walk to wherever it is she’s being led. 

“Uh, I’m tired, but.” She smiles. At him. Right there where she can touch him. Where he is touching her. “I’m here, so. I’m happy.”

On the walk back to hospitality, she asks him how his day’s gone. He’s sure she already knows, that Joris talked her ear off the entire drive over or that she’d checked the media reports of the practice sessions, but it’s nice to pretend she doesn’t know. He tries to summarize everything as concise as he can, because even though he loves talking to her, he’d much rather listen. He can listen to her talk until the sun burns out.

He’s not surprised to notice that Joris has peeled off from them, especially not because he didn’t even realize he wasn’t trailing behind him and Chris until he held open the door to his driver’s room and Joris was nowhere to be found.

He can’t count the amount of texts he’s had to have sent Chris from his driver’s room. How badly he wanted to just be talking with her, and now she’s here. She’s here, she’s here, she’s here with him. 

He moves around the room, cleaning and reorganizing his things for a fresh start in the morning. Casually, he mentions that he has a sponsorship obligation tonight, last race and all, and that Arthur and Joris are coming along. He doesn’t speak it so offhandedly because he’d forgotten, but because he didn’t want her to get freaked out by the idea of it. He explains that she’s welcome to tag along, or, if she’d feel more comfortable, she can stay here while Andrea packs up his things. 

She’s leaning against the wall just next to the doorway, watching him. Without hesitation, she replies, “I’ll come with you.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, looking to her. “You don’t have to.”

She nods, looks at the ground or the couch or something that isn’t him, folds her hand to look at her nails and lets out an almost silent laugh. His stomach drops. “You sound like you don’t want me to go.”

“No, no.” He corrects, and she still doesn’t look at him. He waves for her attention, cocks his head to the side when he gets it, “No. That’s not. I just want you to do what you want to do.”

“I want to go.”

“Okay,” he smiles.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looks like she’s trying so hard not to smile at him. “You’re being weird, you know?”

He shrugs, because she’s right. “I told you I would be.”

“Well,” Chris sighs, moves across the room to the small couch in the corner, “why are you being weird?”

“Because.” I want to kiss you, he stops himself from saying. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I saw you twenty minutes ago, since you decided to come, since I met you, maybe. 

“Because, why?” She laughs, and he’s suddenly struck with the thought of what her laughter might taste like. Sweet, surely, just like it sounds. Like a popsicle on a summer day. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he tries his absolute hardest to wipe that thought from his brain before texting his brother back. “Je veux t'embrasser tout le temps,” I want to kiss you all the time, he mumbles, isn’t even sure it actually leaves his lips or if he keeps it locked in the vault. He continues to send his reply to Arthur. 

“You know I don’t understand what you just said,” Chris reminds him. That’s why it came out in French, he thinks. Not everything is meant to be said. 

“I said,” he pauses, sends the text, looks back at her. God. “I said I want to kiss you.”

She crosses one leg over the other, looks down at her pants like there is something in her lap to fix. He can see the blush on the tips of her ears, even though she’s trying to hide her cheeks. When she does look up, face still flushed, she tucks her bangs behind her ears and replies softly, “you’re allowed to kiss me, Charles.”

He can’t believe he hasn’t yet. That he’d hugged the life out of her, kissed her hair and told her how happy he is she’s there, that he’d thought about kissing her for weeks, that he didn’t fucking kiss the girl yet. They’re sharing a bedroom tonight, and he still hasn’t kissed her. He thought about it, he did. But they’d promised to keep things as quiet as they could. Now, he’s pretty sure she wouldn’t have stopped him from throwing all those conversations out the window. 

If there wasn’t something weird in the air before, there certainly is now. A new weird. A good weird. An implication of something in the air, weird. It’s out there now, ust hanging above them. I want to kiss you. You can kiss me. Now all that’s left is for one of them to make the move. 

It’s the least he can do–make the first move. She flew across the globe, he can fucking kiss her. He wants to fucking kiss her. He feels like a little kid, the giddy smile that pulls on the corners of his lips when he walks over to her. He does little to conceal his intent.

“What?” She asks with a smile on her face. A tease, she has to know. 

He holds out his hands, palms forward to her and she follows his lead, reaches up to lace their fingers together. “I like you, you know?” He asks, leans his weight against her hands. Some hands are just meant to be held. 

She giggles like a child, pure and innocent and like nothing bad has ever happened to her. Like the childhood dog and all four grandparents are still kicking. “I can’t hold you up.”

“What?” He quirks a brow, leans more weight onto her hands and she laughs harder, her arms shaking below him. 

“Charles!”

“I said I like you, Chris!”

Through weak arms and uncontrollable belly laughs, she manages to choke out in gulps for air, “I like you, too.” In a swift movement, he recenters his weight on his own feet, pulling Chris up from the couch. The force of his pull almost knocks her from her feet, both of them still laughing, fingers dancing with the others on either side of their frames. The laughter is light and airy and barely there, but it’s laughter nonetheless. When their hands do fall apart, their pinkies stay looped together without force, without any pull at all, just comfortably slotted against the other. “I really like you,” she adds, and her voice sounds like smiles look. 

She blushes under her own words, over the entirety of their private moment, eyes darting from eyes to lips and back to eyes. “Yeah?” He asks quietly, like he’s scared asking might change her answer. She nods, biting down on the smile that paints her bottom lip, and it’s more than enough for him. She’s so good. She’s too good not to kiss. 

He moves a hand to her jaw, thumbs her cheek with fingers slotted behind her ear, dancing along her hairline like a whisper of what’s to come. Like a promise. In the absence of his hand, hers finds his chest, just his thin Ferrari shirt separating her palm from the butterflies stirring wildly in his chest. “Me, too,” he says softly. Softer than she did, more to her lips—soft and pretty and his favorite shade of pink—than to her eyes. And then, either so softly only the atoms hear it, or maybe in his head entirely, “very much.”

And then he kisses her. 

She tastes like mint chapstick and biscoff cookies and coffee. Her lips are soft, softer than they looked, softer than her voice. It’s like a boost of energy, kissing her. Like an immediate and complete charge. 

She tightens her grip on his other pinky. Tightens it, loosens it, re-intertwines the whole hand somewhere off in the distance, far, far away from where he wishes to stay forever. This alone is worth a flight anywhere. Altitude sickness and limbs falling asleep and jet lag and headaches from screaming babies are all poor inhibitors when this would be waiting for him on the other side. 

He pulls his hand from hers because it's just not close enough. Nothing is going to be close enough, but he’ll try his damndest to cup her jaw and pull her deeper into the kiss. Their noses bump awkwardly and they pull apart in a breathless laugh. Nothing more than a quick, shared smile and he’s kissing it off her face, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth and letting her hum mumbles into his mouth. Teeth clacking and more laughing, so breathless it’s practically silent. 

“Chris Elliott,” he says all sing-songy, just because he knows it’ll make her laugh. A quick peck, because he can. “You are something.”

“Charles Leclerc,” she mimics, wide eyes and raised brows and a beaming smile. A quick peck, because he’s never going to stop her. “Something good?”

He hums. “Something great.”

“You’re silly,” she says, and he laughs. 

“Silly?” She nods. “You’re cute.” Chris rolls her eyes, but still has that child’s smile on her face and a pink flush to her cheeks. He kisses her again, quick, because he has a month to make up for. 

“I know,” she retorts, deadpan. He laughs louder than any sane man should. 

Joris, Arthur, and Andrea file into the room a few minutes later. Chris is leaning against the wall again, scrolling through her phone. She clicks it off when they walk in, shoves it deep into her purse pocket. 

Andrea’s eyes bounce from Chris to Charles, and then back to Chris, holding out a hand for her to shake. “Andrea,” he greets, formal and cool. 

“Chris,” she smiles, shakes the outstretched hand. 

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “You too.”

First bad impression. She doesn’t know what it is she did, but with the simple half-minute observation of his interactions with her versus the rest of the people in the room, it’s obvious he’s already soured on her. 

Arthur, though, Arthur is almost off putting in his resemblance to Charles. Same voice, same face, certainly same bloodline. She thinks she could recognize him anywhere, probably. He, however, on his phone, doesn’t even notice Chris’ presence in the room until Joris elbows him on the sofa. 

“Quoi?!” He exclaims in a defensive tone that transcends language barriers. The kind that only brothers know how to use. 

“Hi,” Chris says, and Arthur’s head shoots from Joris to her in the doorway. He almost laughs, he’s so surprised by her presence. “I’m Chris,” she adds, holding out a hand only because he's sitting and she’s standing and a hug doesn’t feel logistically sound. 

“Ah, Chris,” Arthur nods, shakes her hand. “Charles does not answer my phone calls because of you.”

“Oh,” she offers a weak smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no. I do not want to hear from him.”

Chris laughs. From the other side of the room, Charles chimes in, “then why are you calling me?”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Maman say, ‘do you call Charles’ and I say ‘yes he does not answer me.’”

- - -

They run into Carlos and co. on the way to the sponsorship event. Chris tries to hang back towards the end of the group, back with Joris and Arthur and away from Charles, purely out of self preservation. They’d agreed in passing that everything would be much easier, hundreds of times simpler, if nobody knew Chris was there this weekend, if everything was kept under the radar. Charles, however, seems to have forgotten that agreement because, no matter how engaged he gets into a conversation, he is constantly looking for her in the group, reaching his hand out to her if she’s within distance to do so, keeping her as close to him as he can. 

She keeps falling back though, falling into ranks. She doesn’t want to look like a girlfriend, because she isn’t. 

Chris has no idea how to be a public… girl? A fling or a girlfriend or anything in between. She’s at home at a race track, yes, and during Chase’s championship winning season, she got stopped three times to take pictures with fans, but, really. Nobody has ever cared about what she’s doing or who she’s doing it with. 

Walking in behind Carlos and Charles is like walking in behind celebrities. Everyone wants to shake their hands, to pat them on the shoulders and tell them this thing or another. There’s lots of languages being thrown around that she doesn’t recognize, accents she struggles to understand. 

“This is crazy,” she says quietly, just to herself. 

Arthur nudges her with his elbow to steal her attention, furrows his brows for a moment and holds up a quizzical thumbs up. Chris nods, smiles gratefully. 

Charles promised that it was going to be nothing more than a quick stop at the event, and he meant it. They aren’t even there long enough to sit down. Instead they hang out in the back of the tent near the bar, watching Charles and Carlos talk on stage with several different people about how important this brand is for us.  

They decide to go out to dinner after, despite Chris’ burning desire to go to sleep for a couple years. They get sat at a booth that’s probably made to hold no more than four people; Andrea and Joris on one side, Charles sandwiched between Chris and Arthur on either side. He finds her hand under the table, his thumb tracing along the lines of her fingers. Chris, against all urges to rest her head on his shoulder, rests it instead on the wooden divider between their booth and the neighboring one. 

Arthur is the only one who struggles to speak English rather than his mother tongue, and while Charles corrects him each time, Chris doesn’t dare. She’d rather die than imply someone speaking in a second language needs to improve the way they speak it. 

“Are you going to be with us all weekend?” Arthur asks around Charles’ frame. 

“I’m actually going to be in the grandstands,” she smiles. Charles rolls his eyes. 

“Oh?” Arthur asks, looks to his brother, but Joris beats him to the punch. 

“You couldn’t get her a pass for the whole weekend?” Joris chirps. Andrea laughs and Charles reaches for the pass hung around her neck. She didn’t even realize she was the only person still wearing it until now. Charles flips the pass over, points out the FULL WEEKEND on the back. 

“Her choice, not mine.”

She reaches to take the pass out of his hand, to pull it off over her head and put it into her purse. “I’m hoping for a drama-free weekend,” she says, and the boys laugh. Charles’ hand finds her thigh, gives it a little pat and a comfortable squeeze. 

Her hands are meant to be held, they really are. He could hold her hand until the moment she leaves, fingers locked together as they walk through the hotel corridor, empty and echoey with their voices and the sound of their feet on the carpet runner. 

Once in the room, face to face together with the single bed, they both burst into laughter. He’s glad he cleaned things up before she got here, because the room was starting to look a little like his driver’s room–clothes strewn about messily, plastic water bottles on the end table, a television remote he lost the night he got here and hadn’t found until this morning. In the corner, Chris’ luggage sits beside the armchair, backpack neatly stacked with a single suitcase. 

“Did you bring your whole wardrobe?” He jokes, and maybe it’s because he’s never been great at conveying jokes in English, or maybe it’s that they’re both absolutely exhausted, but the joke doesn't land. She’s immediately apologizing, spewing out a jumbled apology about I didn’t know what I was supposed to wear, and then– “I’m messing with you,” he says, and hates that she thinks he’d be that worked up over a suitcase, especially when he’d brought at least double what she had. She could have shown up with twenty suitcases and he still wouldn’t have thought it was too much because, well, she’s here. Right in front of him. 

“Oh,” she pouts, and he kisses the look off her face. He’s wanted to do that since he saw it for the first time. “Oh. I like when you do that.” Good, he thinks. Get used to it. 

They both make plans to shower; her before him. He’s on the couch in the living area of the suite when she re-emerges from the bathroom, the TV rolling and absentmindedly scrolling through his phone. When the sliding door to the bathroom opens, he looks up to watch her. 

Her hair long down her back, carefully combed out so that the soaking ends turn the fabric of her sun-worn blue t-shirt a darker shade. It’s big on her–the shirt–hangs almost long enough that you wouldn’t be able to spot the flannel shorts underneath. He can still hear the sink running in the bathroom and she’s got a toothbrush in her mouth. 

He whistles when she walks back from the bedroom towards the bathroom again, and she stops in the doorway, laughs around the toothbrush and does a sweet spin. “Bellissimo,” he says, gestures a chef’s kiss and she bows dramatically. 

After his shower, he finds her in the bedroom, comfortably perched against the headboard, tucked under the crisp white duvet. The only light in the place is coming from her end table lamp, casting a soft shadow on her face, her knees pulled up close while she turns the pages of a book. He hovers around his suitcase watching her, completely in her own world, the only hint of her presence on this plane being the subtle lean into the light to better illuminate the pages she turns. 

It’s not the first time he’s found himself looking at her like this. She’s easy to get lost in and almost never notices him staring. She just gets so focused on the task at hand–grading papers, cooking a meal, painting her nails, watching a television show, or like tonight, reading her current library rental. 

“Do you want a water?” He asks. Her eyes don’t leave the page, a subtle shake of the head before she finally mumbles a no, thank you. He navigates the dark suite to the kitchenette, finds himself a plastic water bottle in the mini-fridge, and then he’s pulling back the comforter to climb into bed with her. “So, I was thinking tomorrow–” he starts, but she cuts him off with a singular finger held in the air. He can’t help but laugh, stupid smile on his face while he watches her eyes hurriedly finish the page, dog ear the tiniest fold onto the corner. 

“Sorry,” she unapologetically offers, setting the book down on the end table. “What were you saying?”

“Uh, I don’t remember,” he says, because he lost it while he tried to guess what she was reading based on the little microexpressions that crossed her face. His eyes fall to the gold chain around her neck, to the small cross that lays over the blue fabric of her shirt. He’s noticed it dozens of times, it’s constant presence in every picture, every video, every call and outfit and event. He doesn’t even think when he reaches for it, examines it with gentle fingers. “Is this a, uh…” he struggles to find the word, “how do you say, family tradition?”

“Heirloom?”

He nods, drops the piece of jewelry back to its rightful spot. “Heirloom.”

“No, it was a birthday gift,” she explains, fingers the chain of it, “from my brother when I turned eighteen.”

He nods, points out the other necklace she’s wearing, a flower with a pearl in the center. “And this?”

She laughs, “it’s silly,” she says. “It goes with these earrings I have, they’re from my parents when I graduated college.” He learns the flower is a chrysanthemum, that her dad has always called her Mum, that her mom has a particular affinity for pearls that she’s passed onto Chris, that all of these things have combined into this piece of jewelry hanging around her neck and that she cried and cried when they gifted it to her. 

Because the sun is still burning, he doesn’t stop asking about the different pieces she wears until he’s run out of ones to point to. He learns the story of a ruby ring–her birthstone–that she found in a thrift store for seventy-five cents when she was fifteen, how it used to fit on her pointer finger but now it fits her ring finger, how sometimes she makes up elaborate stories of how it ended up in the bargain bin of a Goodwill in North Georgia. 

She tells him about three friendship bracelets. The first and second are made by students, her favorite gifts. The third, blue and yellow–NAPA colors, her brother’s racing colors–made by her nephew. “He’s four, and he is everything annoying about my brother and everything good about my best friend, and I think I would kill someone for him.” Charles is sure that tomorrow he’ll be telling someone they wouldn’t believe the way she lights up when she talks about this kid. 

When he’s run out of things to question, she’s examining the red string tied around his wrist. “What about you?” She asks, “what’s up with this guy?”

“My mate, Pierre. He learns about it from our other friend Yuki,” He explains. “They always know the strangest things, Pierre and Yuki,” he chuckles, continues to explain the traditional symbol of good luck. “I don’t know how well it works, though,” he laughs, and she kisses him. It surprises him, but he’s in no place to complain. Perhaps the bracelet works quite well, he thinks when she moves closer, snuggles under his arm while he continues. 

Three metal bracelets. One red, one silver, one stainless steel. Morse code: Amour, Bonheur, Smile. A ring that matches the bracelet. Two hex rings that track his heart rate and his sleep and a million other things.

He spins the rings while he talks, pulls them off and hands one to her without missing a beat in his sentence. She toys with it while she listens, hands it back to him with a quiet yawn. When he kisses her hair, it’s still damp and smells like the shampoo she used, something he can’t place, something he hopes eventually to memorize. “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You told me that last week.”

“I know,” another kiss against the unfamiliar scent. “I meant it.”

Charles wants to order room service for breakfast. Chris shuts that idea down the minute it comes out of his mouth, furrowing her brows and making him attempt to rationalize waiting half an hour for food that’s five minutes away. He can’t, so they head to the lobby. 

Chris is wearing the same shirt, pulls a pair of sweatpants over her flannel shorts and ties her hair into a messy, tangled ponytail. She’d keep it down, but her hair dried while she slept and it’s pointing in directions that defy gravity. A ponytail was the only option. Charles doesn’t change, keeps the t-shirt and shorts he slept in on. 

They find Andrea in the lobby, eating at a table for two by himself. Charles pulls a chair over from a nearby table and they sit down with him. By the time Joris appears, the table is officially too full of food to comfortably function. 

She hears his phone vibrate against the hard plastic of his chair, and he casually mentions that the rest of his family is on their way down. 

Chris doesn’t react, not externally, anyways. She finishes what’s left in her mug, bee-lines it over to the coffee bar to make another. Absent-mindedly, she tears the foil from the creamer cups, rips open the sugar packets and stirs it all together. His mom. His mom. His mom. It’s all she can think about. His mother. The woman who gave him life. Chris knew she’d be meeting his mom this weekend, but she figured she’d have more preparation than a couple minutes warning, assumed she’d be dressed, hair styled, makeup done. That she’d be presenting herself as someone you’d be happy to have your son spend time with, not like a  7/11 customer in Dahlonega at one in the morning. Maybe Charles was right and room service was a good idea. 

Even once she’s back at the table, every elevator ding makes her jump, shoots her head in the direction of the opening doors just terrified the people walking out are going to be his family. 

“Are you good?” Charles asks after she flinches at the third elevator bell. 

“Yup,” she lies, slaps a big, phony smile on her face and takes a sip of her coffee. His hand finds her leg, gives it a little you’ll be fine squeeze. 

The next elevator is carrying his family. She instinctively straightens in her seat, moves things around the crowded table so her food looks neat and managed. Joris looks at her with concern, Charles laughs when she refolds a napkin. “Don’t laugh at me,” she whispers. 

Out of earshot, Arthur says something through a stretch and a yawn. His mom rolls her eyes, pushes him in the direction of the coffee bar, mutters something to his other brother that makes him chuckle. When his mom spots Chris, she makes a bee-line for her with open arms. Chris practically trips over the leg of her chair trying to stand up before the hug reaches her. 

“Come here, chérie,” she smiles. It’s warm, just like her boy’s. “I have heard so much about you.” Oh? Chris smiles, suddenly aware that she’s apparently horribly unprepared for this entire introduction. He’s telling his mother about her? 

She hugs Pascale back and looks over her shoulder to Charles with wide eyes. She’s met with a matching expression, Charles shrugging and shaking his head as if to adamantly tell her he has no idea what his mom is talking about. “And what have you heard, Maman?” He asks with a laugh. 

“Don’t start with me,” she says, wagging a finger at her boy, and then to Chris, “Ignore him.” She holds her at arm's length, hands on either shoulder and looks her up and down. Chris laughs, nervous but still noticeably genuine. “You are just beautiful, aren’t you?”

Well. Beautiful isn’t a word Chris would use to describe herself at this moment. Ratty, perhaps. Disheveled. Off-putting. But sure, beautiful is a word she might sometimes describe herself as. “Me?” She shakes her head, “ma’am, look at yourself.”

“Oh, please,” his mom scoffs. “Pascale.”

“Pascale.” Chris smiles, goes in for another hug.

Whether it’s because he’s a brother and not a mother, or because meeting said mother is done and over with, Chris is significantly less anxious when it comes to her introduction with Lorenzo. 

Chris attempts to insist Pascale take her seat, but is out-insisted to finish her breakfast. Charles finds her hand under the table, winks at her when she interlocks her fingers with his. 

– – – 

Outside of their shared breakfast, Saturday is a long day apart for Chris and Charles. A quick kiss goodbye in their hotel room when Charles finishes getting ready, a quicker “good luck,” from Chris called after him on his way out the door, and a thumbs up over his head as a response summarizes their interactions for the rest of the day. 

Chris works on next week’s lesson plans for a few hours, nothing better to do while she waits to leave for the track. 

She watches the third practice session and quali from the grandstand across from the pitlane, and while neither are his greatest showing, Chris can feel it in her bones that everything is going to fall into place for him tomorrow. A third place start is more than good enough to beat out Perez at Red Bull. She knows it like she knows her own name, and nobody is going to tell her otherwise. 

She goes back to the hotel after quali, doesn’t bother to attempt sneaking into the paddock to try and find him. It just doesn’t feel worth it–navigating a place she doesn’t know, avoiding the cameras and the reporters and the chaos–not when he’ll be coming back to the hotel, back to her. 

She falls asleep moments after sitting down on the couch, and isn’t woken up until she doesn’t even know when. It’s the middle of the night, Charles tells her, guides her to bed and tucks her in like a child, complete with a kiss on the forehead. 

- - -

The first words out of her mouth on Sunday morning are an apology. 

When Charles tries to cut her off with a laugh and a kiss, she stops him just short of her lips, claiming morning breath. “Wow,” he feigns shock. “First you fall asleep on me, now you will not kiss me?”

She rolls her eyes, grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss her. “Happy?”

He nods and kisses her again. He keeps waiting for it to not feel so exciting, so much like a stupid movie, so young, and it’s yet to reach that point. It’s not even coming close. “Yes, thank you.”

From the other side of the bathroom wall she dares to ask him if he’s nervous, if the pressure is finally manifesting itself into stress. He’s quiet for a while. 

“No,” he eventually calls back.

“No?”

He peels around the doorway, messing with the collar on his team shirt. “Yes,” he admits with a scale-breaking sigh. She wishes he was as sure as himself as she is, that he could feel in his bones it is all going to work out perfectly. 

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re done, and we can either celebrate Charles Leclerc, Vice World Champion,” he turns away at the title, the side profile of a smile turning the corner back into the bathroom. “Or, we can celebrate the end of an exhausting season. Either way, we’re celebrating.” He stays quiet. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he finally speaks, tone lackluster, unconfident. It’s hard to hear him like this, to hear the distinct shards of doubt that rattle in his chest. “We’re celebrating.”

We’re celebrating. Tonight is a celebration. The positives with the negatives, the good always outweighs the bad. She reminds herself like it’s a mantra. Tonight is a celebration. 

- - -

Alone in the grandstands with an air of certainty about her, Chris’ bar for friendship has never been lower. She finds a group of girlfriends who appear to be sort-of, almost, kind-of, maybe in the same age demographic as she is. They speak English and don’t ignore her when she talks, and that’s enough for her to latch onto for the evening. 

We like McLaren, they tell her, But those Ferrari boys–they’re cute. You can’t help but feel for them. Chris just smiles and nods, offers up a laugh and pretends she won’t be falling asleep next to one of those cute boys later tonight. 

The girls–flew in from London on Friday just for this-fill her in on everything she already knows. They tell her about Charles and his fight for P2, about the strategic pitfalls of Ferrari and the fact that on paper, it was Charles’ year to win it all. 

They’re more nervous during the race than Chris is, not to say that her leg isn’t bouncing watching the times constantly changing, that she isn’t whispering mumbles prayers into the air between here and there, just that she knows. She knows. 

If it was possible to stare through a helmet, Chris would’ve done it during his pitstop, burning the confidence right into his frontal lobe. Her eyes are glued to his car, his helmet, distant and small and buzzing with energy. He’s got it under control, like a perfectly wrapped gift sat in his lap, like a row of monkey bars and hands hardened by months of blisters, like a first kiss and a second kiss and a third kiss. He’s got it under control.

He does, because after what feels simultaneously like the longest and shortest fifty-eight laps of her life, Chris practically has a front row seat to Charles doing donuts. She’s so happy that she thinks she might cry, not that it takes much of anything to pull a tear from her when she’s this exhausted. The girls she’d befriended jump and celebrate and cheer louder than the fireworks. 

Chris tries to live the moment. To feel it all, the energy and the roar and the joy, which only makes it that much harder not to cry. 

Suddenly, momentarily, irrationally emotionally, while she watches him celebrate with his family and his team in front of the whole world she wishes she was down there with him. Screw the world watching, she wants to hug him until her arms are numb and kiss him until she passes out.

There’s no telling when–or even if–she’s going to ever live through a moment like this again. It’s not one she wants to forget. In the chaos of it all, her hand finds her chest, the hard metal of her cross necklace through the fabric of her top, the pulsing of her heartbeat, loud and racing. 

It’s hours before he’s back to the hotel, but it doesn’t feel late at all. He’s still running on adrenaline, just as ready to celebrate as he was when he jumped into his team’s arms. Over the mechanical shifting of the door lock, he can hear Chris’ feet echoing on the floor just on the other side and before he can even make it through the doorway she’s crashing into him. The pure energy that she is knocks him back a few steps, but then he’s hugging her back just as hard, maybe harder. 

He can feel her tears soak through his shirt, and with a laugh asks if she’s crying. 

“Shut up,” she says, and it only makes him laugh harder, hug tighter. God, the show he would have put on if he could’ve found her right after the race. The trouble he would make. “Oh, my god!” She sniffles, pulls her head off his chest and wipes away her tears. “Kiss me, already!”

And so he does. He kisses the shit out of her. 

She pulls away with a smile, arms slinked around his neck like it belongs to her. “So, how does it feel?” She asks, “Vice World Champion, Charles Leclerc.”

He gives her a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck, shrugs, and repeats the action. “Too busy kissing the girl.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughs, drops her head so it’s against his chest and vibrates his entire being. It’s a laugh that lights stars, dances around the room like a windchime in the warm August air. The kind so distinct you could hear it across a room ten years later and still know it was her. “A walking cheeseball.”

“A cheeseball?” He humors. 

“I said what I said.”

His satisfied hum says more than words ever could, fingers comfortable dancing along the bone of her hip. “We gotta get ready,” he says. 

“For what?”

“The celebration.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[betterbooktitles]

My mother was the first famous person I ever met.

As a doctor with her own practice on the West Side of Cleveland, she couldn’t so much as go out for ice cream a half mile from the house without someone coming up to give her an update on their shallow breathing spells, the new medication they were on for chest pain, or what they might be able to do for a spastic colon. If there were ten people in line at East Coast Custard, a slab of gray concrete with two sliding glass windows on the front, three of them formed a new line to talk to my mom.

I usually rode to East Coast Custard with my brother on our bikes and hauled my cookies n’ cream back home, the cold condensation hurting my left hand as I pressed the plastic cup against one side of the handlebars while using my dominant hand on the other side to steer. I looked over to see my brother Sean, skinny, backward baseball cap, peddling his neon green Schwinn while barely looking up, both hands occupied by the ice cream and spoon floating far behind his untouched handlebars. He looked like he was sitting on the couch at home as he raced effortlessly down the street while eating. He was often already pulling a basketball out of the garage by the time I arrived home. I was left to sit on the porch alone eating a half-melted mess that was now closer to a milkshake. I would beg my brother to go with me to the ice cream spot because if I had to go with my mom, a quick trip would turn into an hour of talking to people who wanted advice, to express gratitude, or (and this was the most common) to have a quick therapy session about their deepest fears and mortality. When they were through, they’d turn to me to tell me how lucky I was to have a mom like her. Eventually, East Coast Custard added a drive-thru so we could get our food quietly without my mom’s fans interrupting.

In 2009, I was sitting with a comic who everyone in the New York comedy scene knew was destined for Marvel movie fame. We were discussing video games and how the crowd looked from our semi-private booth at the back of The Slipper Room when I heard the familiar tone of a stranger interrupting us: “I swear I’m not a stalker” a woman said (an insane way to start a conversation), “…but I love you.” (weirdly, something a stalker might say!). He graciously accepted the compliment while I stewed about how I was interrupted right as I was about to inform my friend of my struggles with Demon’s Souls, a game he’d recommended that had stolen the last few weeks of my life.

In 2018, I was eating Dippin’ Dots and taking turns playing Skee-Ball at Six Flags with a famous battle rapper. Like me, he was also too scared to get on the giant rollercoaster that our partners had decided to brave together, so we hung out in the arcade. Yes, we were regressing. We were two sugar-high 30-somethings screaming at each other about proper Skee-Ball throwing form. We were also, however, in the middle of a serious talk about which of our friends were currently in open marriages and if any relationship amounted to a hill of beans in this crazy world. In the middle of this conversation, I heard someone say, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you, but you’re a rapper, right?” We turned to see a man holding cotton candy in one hand, and his daughter’s hand in the other. His wife stood behind him and rolled her eyes. She realized that part of a family outing was about to be ruined. The guy talked to my friend for the better part of a half hour before letting us get back to screaming about what our tickets could buy and discussing when it was necessary to try couples therapy.

The courtesy of these preambles was never extended to my mom when I was a kid. There was no “sorry to interrupt. I swear I’m not following you! I have a quick question.” All my family ever heard was “Oh, Doctor Wilbur!” and she was theirs for the next few minutes.

I have plenty of memories of my mother at soccer games undistracted as she cheered my brother on, and plenty more of her helping me with my own mental and physical health complaints. These memories of impromptu meetings with her patients don’t bother me now, and growing up, my annoyance was nothing more than the average kid gripe about when moms see each other in the mall and you have to brace yourself for five minutes of boredom while they chat. The problem was the frequency. Everyone needed my mom’s attention all the time. To be fair, the conversations were nominally about life and death, but most could probably wait until the next appointment at her office without any serious consequences. I wanted to go shopping for school supplies without my mother being stopped by anyone. I wanted to have dinner at a restaurant without hearing “Oh, Doctor Wilbur!” before the bread could hit the table. I wanted to have a movie night when my mom was on call without her suddenly leaving the room for a twenty-minute conversation about someone’s aging parent having heart palpitations.

Read the rest here.

[luckyduckwrites]

The Sins of the Past Chapter 1-18: Siege of the North (Part 1): The Calm Before the Storm

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Katara/Original Female Character, Avatar Roku & Original Female Character, Avatar Aang & Original Female Character, Sokka & Original Female Character, Toph & Original Female Character

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Aang (Avatar), The Gaang (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Roku (Avatar)

Additional Tags: Precious Aang (Avatar), Bisexual Katara (Avatar), Protective Sokka (Avatar), Firebending & Firebenders, Firebender Original Character, POV First Person, POV Female Character, Original Character-centric, Toph Beifong is a Menace, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Disabled Character, Childhood Trauma, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Friends to Lovers, Canon Lesbian Character

Summary:

My name is Ryuza. My father was Avatar Roku, but he died when I was 4. A few years after his death, Fire Nation soldiers burned our house down. I dont know if my mother and sister were able to get away, but my left arm got caught in the wreckage. I would have died if one of the soldiers hadn't helped me, but I had to lose my arm due to the damage. He helped me escape, and I ran to the Earth Kingdom, finding refuge in Omashu. I met Aang, an airbender, and he brought me to stay with him in the Air Temples. He tried to run away after finding out he was the Avatar, so I went with him and got trapped in an iceberg for 100 years. What's happened since we were gone?

**AO3 & Wattpad links in masterpost pinned to the top of the blog**

It's been around a month since we first got to the Northern Water Tribe. Most of the warriors here seem to have accepted me by now, or are at least tolerating my presence, except for Hahn. He's an uppity jerk that nobody likes. He always talks down to me, referring to me like I'm just a bug he stepped on. Outside of warrior training, I've met Princess Yue a few times. She seems to be a kind girl that doesn't want to marry her suitor, and reminds me of Crystal in a few ways. As I'm heading over to warrior training, I spot Sokka and Yue on another one of their 'secret' dates on the bridge, sneaking up behind them for a chance to tease Sokka.

Yue asks him, "So they don't have palaces in the Southern Tribe?"

Sokka sits down on the bridge's ledge, saying, "Are you kidding? I grew up in a block of ice. It's not exactly a cultural hub."

I finally reveal myself, saying in a teasing tone, "Hey guys, how's your daaaaaaate going?"

Sokka gets spooked, nearly falling off the bridge as I laugh, Yue covering her mouth to stifle her giggles.

He exclaims, "That's not funny, Ryuza!"

I say through laughs, "You're right, it's not funny. It's hilarious!" I start walking back to warrior training, calling out, "Just don't get too carried away, you crazy kids!"

Sokka calls out to me, "You're younger than me! And we're not kids!"

I burst into laughter, but it starts dying down by the time I get to warrior training, and I wipe my eye, getting a few last chuckles out. I haven't had a good laugh in a while. When I enter the building, I come face to face with Hahn.

He scowls down at me, asking, "What's so funny, ash-maker?"

My smile immediately falls, and I say, "Nothing you need to know about, weasel-snake."

I walk past him, grabbing a dagger and practicing throwing it at the target. I can tell I'm getting better, and I'm hitting the target with the blade most of the time. After an hour or two of training, I step outside the building to grab some lunch. Throwing daggers really works up an appetite! As I'm about to head over to a merchant for food, the snow falling around me turns black with soot. My eyes widen in surprise, and I run back to the other warriors-in-training.

I exclaim, "The Fire Nation is here! And by the looks of the soot in the air, there's a lot of them!"

Hahn yells at me, "This is all your fault, you dirty ash-maker!"

I ask, "What? How could this be my fault?!"

Hahn responds, "You must've lead them to us! We've been living here peacefully for the entirety of the war, and the second one of their people gets here, they invade? Yeah, it's a real mystery."

A few warriors come to my defense, but most of them are silent, shifting on their feet. They think it was my fault? But it isn't! Or... is it? Were they really following me here? I feel a tear slide down my cheek, and I run out of the building. If the Fire Nation is coming here, Zhao's most likely at the front of it all, leading them. Not long after, a meeting with everyone is held inside the Chief's Royal Palace. I hide behind my friends as a few of the warriors I'd started to consider as friends glare at me, blaming me.

Katara holds my hand for comfort as Arnook says, "The day we have feared for so long has arrived. The Fire Nation is on our doorstep. It is with great sadness I call my family here before me, knowing well that some of these faces are about to vanish from our tribe, but they will never vanish from our hearts. Now, as we approach the battle for our existence, I call upon the great spirits. Spirit of the Ocean! Spirit of the Moon! Be with us! I'm going to need volunteers for a dangerous mission."

Sokka is the first to rise from his seat, exclaiming, "Count me in!"

Katara says worriedly, "Sokka..."

Arnook says, "Be warned, many of you will not return."

Several Water Tribe men rise and walk forward, and it takes a moment for me to gather the courage to stand and join them. If the Fire Nation is invading, I need to be able to help them defend themselves.

Arnook says to me and the other warriors, "Come forward and recieve my mark, if you accept the task."

He paints three red line marks on one man's forehead, and the man walks away, looking slightly sorrowful. Not that I blame him. The Fire Nation is about to invade their tribe after decades of peace. Sokka steps forward next, and Arnook paints the same three marks. He begins walking away sadly and turns to look at Yue. After staring at each other for a few moments, Sokka continues walking. Yue averts her gaze and begins crying, and I desperately want to comfort her, but I can't. She's a princess, and I'm just a girl who's Nation is invading hers. I get a few glares from the warriors around me as Arnook paints three lines on my forehead, and I walk away toward where I saw Sokka go.

After a while, Arnook joins us, saying, "Men, you'll be infiltrating the Fire Nation Navy. That means you'll all need one of these uniforms."

Hahn enters the room in said uniform, Sokka laughs, and I look at Hahn in confusion. That uniform looks more new than the ones soldiers used when I was a kid, but still very outdated by today's standards.

Hahn angrily asks Sokka, "What's your problem?"

Sokka responds, "Fire Navy uniforms don't look like that."

Hahn irritable says, "Of course they do."

I say, "Not anymore. I haven't seen a uniform like that in years."

Hahn scoffs, saying, "These are real uniforms captured from actual Fire Navy soldiers!"

Sokka asks sarcastically, "When, like, a hundred years ago?"

Arnook responds resignedly, "Eighty-five..."

Sokka walks over and flicks one of the shoulder spikes with his finger, saying, "The Fire Nation doesn't wear shoulder spikes anymore."

I add, "Yeah, the newer uniforms are much more streamlined."

Sokka bends the tip of one of the shoulder spikes back with the tip of his finger and lets go, the spike bouncing back to it's original shape with a comedic sound.

Hahn asks, "How do we know we can trust these people?" Hahn growls at Sokka, who glares at him in return, and I avoid his gaze as he says, "Such bold talk for new recruits, expecially that ash-maker."

Arnook says, "Sokka is from our sister tribe, Hahn, and Ryuza is the previous Avatar's daughter and friend to the current Avatar. They're capable warriors and I value their input."

I smile slightly at the compliment from the chief, but the annoyed glares from the other warriors wipes my smile from my face again. Sokka shoots Hahn a smug look, putting his arm around my shoulder as Arnook turns to the rest of the regiment.

He says, "Now, our first objective is to determine the identity of their commanding officer."

Sokka cuts in, "His name is Zhao. Middle aged," He traces imaginary sideburns with his fingers, adding, "Big sideburns, bigger temper..."

I add, "And no self-control. He constantly vies for attention and holds deadly grudges. He's tried to kill us a few times."

Arnook says, "Sokka, Ryuza, I want you both to tell everything you know to Hahn. He's leading this mission. Hahn, show them your respect." He starts walking away, adding, "I expect nothing less from my future son-in-law."

Sokka and I stare at Hahn, our mouths agape in matching shocked expressions as Sokka's arm falls from my shoulder.

Sokka points at Hahn and narrows his eyes, asking in disbelief, "Princess Yue's marrying you?"

Hahn responds irritatedly, "Yeah, what of it?"

Sokka turns away from Hahn, saying in an upset tone, "Nothing. Congratulations."

I whisper to Sokka, "No wonder Yue didn't want to get married if she has to marry him. I wouldn't want to marry him either."

After the first day of full-on assault from the dozens of Fire Navy ships, they retreat as the moon rises in the sky. Sokka, Hahn, and I are sharpening weapons against grindstones on the second day.

Hahn says smugly, ignoring me, "Let me tell you, Sokka, I've courted a lot of girls, but Yue is the finest, and she comes with the most perks."

Sokka asks annoyedly, "Perks? What does that mean?!"

Hahn responds, "I mean, Yue's nice and everything, but the points I'll gain with the chief aren't bad either."

Sokka angrily exclaims, "Princess Yue is wasted on a self-absorbed weasel like you!"

Hahn asks, "Who, hang on. What do you care?" Sokka closes his eyes sorrowfully as Hahn says, "You're just a simple rube from the Southern Tribe. What would you know of the political complexities of our life?" He smirks, adding, "No offense."

Sokka shouts and tackles Hahn, and the two begin rolling around on the floor in a struggle, Sokka exclaiming, "You're just a jerk without a soul, no offense!"

They continue rolling about on the floor, pulling each others ponytails in fury when they're suddenly separated by Arnook.

He exclaims, "That's enough! Sokka, you're off the mission!"

Sokka, his hair look and hanging in locks, appears stunned before crossing his arms in anger.

Hahn smirks, saying, "Alright, fall in, men! Everybody listen to what I say and we'll take out this Admiral Cho in no time!"

I exclaim, "It's Zhao, you idiot! Zhao!"

Arnook says, "Ryuza, you're off the mission, too."

I ask, "What? Why?! I- I have value here!"

Arnook says, "Your bending is wasted here. You're needed on the front lines."

I look between Arnook and Sokka, reluctantly saying, "Fine. May the Ocean and Moon spirits be on your side."

Arnook says, "And yours."

I leave the building, joining the warriors on the front lines. I fend off Fire Nation soldiers, redirecting their blasts away from my fellow warriors and burning a few of our opponents in the process. Once the moon starts hanging in the sky and the Fire Navy retreats yet again, I just can't fight anymore. I'm too exhausted. I spot Katara, Aang, and Yue on a balcony and climb up to them.

When I get there, Yue says, "The legends say the moon was the first waterbender. Our ancestors saw how it pushed a pulled the tides and learned how to do it themselves."

Katara says, "I've always noticed my waterbending is stronger at night."

I say, "And my bending is stronger during the day with the help of the sun."

Yue says, "Our strength comes from the Spirit of the Moon. Our life comes from the Spirit of the Ocean. They work together to keep balance."

Aang's expression brightens, and he exclaims, "The spirits!" He raises his head, startling Momo, who was resting in his lap, and he adds, "Maybe I can find them and get their help!"

Yue asks, "How can you do that?"

Katara responds, "The Avatar is the bridge between our world and the Spirit World! Aang can talk to them!"

I shiver, saying, "Ugh, the Spirit World."

Yue says to Aang, "Maybe they'll give you the wisdom to win this battle!"

Aang waves his arms out is an excited gesture, exclaiming, "Or maybe they'll unleash a crazy, amazing Spirit attack on the Fire Nation!" The three of us give him odd looks, and he straightened up, saying, "Or wisdom. That's good, too."

Katara says, "The only problem is, last time you got to the Spirit World by accident. How are you going to get there this time?"

I say, "Sometimes the monks would be able to travel to the Spirit World on their own if they meditated in a spiritual place. Are there any of those around here?"

Yue says, "I have an idea. Follow me."

She begins walking away, and Aang, Katara, and I follow her. We walk past the Chief's Royal Palace, stopping in front of a small, round wooden door.

Aang walks up to the door, asking, "So is this the way to the Spirit World?"

Yue laughs, saying, "No. You'll have to get there on your own, but I can take you to the most spiritual place in the entire North Pole."

She opens the door, revealing a small, verdant oasis, a waterfall flowing directly behind it. We all walk inside, and Aang gasps in amazement.

He runs to the back of the oasis and rolls around on the ground, exclaiming, "I never thought I'd miss grass this much!"

Katara exclaims, "It's so warm here!"

I ask, "How is this possible? I've never heard of anything like this before."

Yue responds, "It's the center of all spiritual energy in our land."

The two girls remove their coats, and I sit down by the pond in the center of the oasis, watching the two koi fish swimming about, one black with a white dot on it's back, and one with with a black dot on it's back. Momo sticks his hand in the pond and tries to grab the fish out of the water, but stops when I grab him by the scruff of his neck. When I let go of him, he just sits down next to the pond.

Aang says, "You're right, Yue. I can feel... something. It's so tranquil."

He positions himself to meditate in front of the pond, and the two koi fish circle each other.

Yue asks, "Why is he sitting like that?"

Katara responds, "He's meditating, trying to cross over into the Spirit World. It takes all his concentration."

I can see Aang's face scrunch up in frustration, and I gestures for the girls to be quiet, but they ignore me, Yue asking, "Is there any way whe can help?"

Aang opens his eyes and turns his head toward the two, exclaiming angrily, "How about some quiet?! Come on, guys, I can hear every word you're saying!"

As he goes back to his meditative position, I say, "Hey, Aang?"

He peeks an eye open, glaring at me.

I say, "Can you do something for me?"

He opens the other eye, asking annoyedly, "What?"

I respond, "Can you... say 'hello' to Father for me?"

Aang's expression immediately softens, and he says, "Oh. Yeah, no problem, Ryu."

I smile slightly, saying, "Thanks, Aang."

He smiles back at me, then watches the koi fish circle each other in the pond, seeming mesmerized by them before his eyes and tattoos light up.

Yue asks worriedly, "Is he okay?"

Katara responds, "He's crossing into the Spirit World."

I add, "He should be fine as long as we don't move his body. That's his way back to the physical world."

Yue says, "Maybe we should get some help."

Katara says, "No, he's my friend. I'm perfectly capable of protecting him. She gestures at me, adding, "Besides, I have Ryuza to help, too."

All of a sudden, we head a familiar princely voice sarcastically say, "Well, aren't you big girls now."

Katara and I turn to him, and I glare at the intruder, saying, "Zuko."

Katara says dismayed, "No..."

Zuko says, "Yes. Hand him over and I won't have to hurt either of you."

I ask, "What, not after me this time?"

Zuko responds, "Oh, don't worry. I am."

Yue runs out of the oasis as Katara and I assume defensive stances. Zuko kicks his leg up, sending a fire blast Katara's way. I'm barely able to redirect it in my exhaustion as he fires more blasts from his hands as Katara conjures up water shields to deflect the attacks. She draws more water from the pond and sends the stream at Zuko, who is preparing another attack. I send a weak blast at him to distract him, and it works, Katara's blast pushing Zuko back several feet and knocking him to the ground.

Zuko rises back to his feet, saying to Katara, "I see you've learned a new trick, but I didn't come this far to lose to you."

He turns around and fires another blast, which Katara blocks by summoning another shield of water, then sending a powerful jet of water at our opponents. The jet collides into Zuko, who's sent farther back. As he attempts to steady himself from the impact, small juts of ice form around his feet. Katara has a determined look on her face as water rises around Zuko, encircling him. Katara waves her arms about wildly, forming a ball of water around him, freezing it solid. She smiles triumphantly at imprisoning him in the ice, and I feel bad that I couldn't do anything more to help.

Zuko says angrily, "You little peasant. You've found a master, haven't you?"

His icy prison starts glowing bring orange with heat, and the ground rumbles. Once he's melted himself free, he fires repeated attack at Katara, who draws water from the oasis to deflect the attacks. She prepares to strike him with a water black, but Zuko manages to slip away and head toward Aang. Just as his fingers grasp Aang's collar, I tackle him, making him let go of Aang. Just as Zuko shoves me off of him, Katara fires a water blast, throwing Zuko to the other wall. She whips up a large wave and sends the attacks at Zuko. The rush of water sends Zuko up the side of the cliff, and she freezes the water, encasing him in ice. He stays there, slumping his head over in defeat.

However, our victory doesn't last long as the sun rises, rays on sunlight beaming down into the oasis. He sharply raises his head with a determined look on his face, breathing steam from his nose to quickly melt to ice. He lands on the ground and fires a blast at Katara, who had her back turned to him at the moment. I dive to shove her out of the way, but I end up burning my good arm in the process. I cry out in pain, and Zuko fires another blast at Katara as she's conjuring a water shield, but she makes it too late. The blast sends her slamming into the gate to the Spirit World, knocking her out, smoke from the impact filling my vision. I can barely see Zuko standing over her, holding Aang by the collar.

He says, "You rise with the moon, I rise with the sun."

He walks over to me, and I crawl away from him, the searing pain shooting through my arm. I have to stop when I reach the edge of the oasis, not wanting to fall into the deep water, and Zuko drops Aang, grabbing my by the front collar of my shirt. He gives me a headbutt, and everything goes dark.

[starry-eyed-extraterrestrial]

Hi!, this is a little one shot I made for my moot @anaalnathrakhs , hey, I hope you like this, this was giving me a lot of trouble but after I got some sleep (finally) I think it's actually cute, if a bit too short for my liking.

Tommy's chest is wet with tears and snot. Nikki lays with his face pressed up against Tommy's lanky frame, hair a complete mess and crying his eyes out.

Tommy doesn't know how exactly he ended up like this, one moment he's passing out face first on his bed (floor mattress) after a few too many drinks and the next Nikki is practically breaking down his door to yell about something or other and when Tommy asks why Nikki is even upset, because he's certainly not the one who took Nikki's cocaine (he thinks) so he has no idea why Nikki even came to him in the first place, Nikki is already in tears.

Tommy's only really known Nikki for about a month and they've only been living together a couple weeks, but in all that time Tommy had kind of made a character sketch on who all the guys were and what they were like. And Nikki before this moment pegged him as everything but a crier.

The guy was tough as nails and cold as ice. He went through life like a wrecking ball, crushing everything in sight that wasn't useful and swinging hands at the first sight of trouble, he was a total maniac, and Tommy liked that.

He was so different from anybody he'd ever met before and he was so ready to make it Tommy has no doubt that he'd kill someone for a little taste of stardom, and he was into crazy antics and good music. So all and all just his type.

But laying here now on his two dollar mattress under his crusty ass sheets with Nikki's wet hot face mashed into his chest and his stage makeup once pristine, now ruined on the surface of his sternum made him second guess all the things he thought he knew about the bassist.

But it didn't make him think less of the older man. No, in fact he's glad to know that his best friend is actually a human and not just some demon who spawned to existence out of his own spite for the idea.

So to try and silently deliver that message, he hugs the crying man closer to his body, just to let him know that he was okay, and that they were okay and that this sign of vulnerability didn't change Tommy's opinions about him at all.

Nikki doesn't share a sign back that he understood what Tommy was trying to say, he just simply continued to cry, like he'd been holding rivers back for years and tonight they'd finally flooded the inside of the rotten house of his soul and burst out with no control.

Tommy feels his heart ache for his friend when a particularly loud sob flows out from the storm. That night he made a decision, one that he'd go back on a few times in the future and then completely forget years later only to return to his word even further in his life, when age started to not be so kind to them anymore.

He will never let go of Nikki Sixx.

[alovecraft]

. So! Reading things:

. Have I finished re-reading the fanfic I loved dearly in the early 00s? No. The tab is still opened, our heroes are still stuck and haven't fully defeated the villain. The whole thing kind of reminds me of this crack fic I read back in the day where the author kind of forgot about the work and did a self-insert about leaving one of them under a sink for a week.

Will I finish re-reading this fanfic? I don't know. I don't hate it, but I do find myself skimming large chunks of it and loathing the reload the website keeps doing on me. I think I'm still more bizarrely amazed that website still exists than anything.

. Jamie handed me his phone with the kindle app pulled up and a paragraph highlighted because I am a fan of malicious compliance. The paragraph was a brilliant malicious compliance (character is tasked with finding another character to give them a message. the first character finds the second character chained up, gives the message, and leaves the character chained up).

. Jamie politely nudges me with reminders that I should absolutely read the Memory, Sorrow, Thorn series. (yeah no)

We have a brief discussion over how the closest to epic fantasy I will get is the Redwall series and my absolute dismissal of the A Song of Ice and Fire series (I have read everything up through whatever book was released before A Dance of Dragons and I'm good. I only read it for him because he likes it and, honestly, I could care less).

. Did I mention that I bounced out of the novel by an author I enjoy that's part of a series that I've read one of the books for before? I...kind of hate it? Like, I get it, it's a good trope (best friends to lovers) and I enjoy a well written version of it, but something about this book just makes me go nyrr and not want to continue. Maybe later on down the line.

. I did decide to give up on the...age gap mafia bro bratting story cuz like there's just parts that killed the vibe, y'know. Every time I read the main male character's name I noped out just enough to kind of hate it and I've read russian mafia romance novels where everyone uses like the same three russian names instead of looking farther than a quick 5 second google search (seriously, there are more last names than just petrov)

And while I'm all for bratting for bratting's sake at your dom because you feel like you didn't get your way, bratting for bratting's sake because you're basically a 1-dimensional caricature while the author throws words at a wall to see what sticks just...really kills the vibe. And the whole setting up of "you're my assistant" and three paragraphs later "you're my fake wife" for practically no reason just makes me wonder if this was supposed to be a short story that kind of exploded into novel length by accident.

. Now I am starting a new book (billionaire romance because fuck it why not. despite all the novels at my disposal, I am going for romance) and we have two or three chapters of background and world building (yay) and the main characters have met and we have main male character with RBF and main female character who is slightly nuts and RBF is told he's crazy/delusional while Nuts has No Memory of a certain point in childhood.

I am currently 10% into the book and I currently do not hate it, which, considering my run at the moment, I'm counting as a win.

. Am I working on my list of Things I Have Read to make a fic or book blanket? lol no. Should I? Most likely. Will I? Probably not.

[cruelladequeue]

Today was Hard

Today was a hard one. The weather was beautiful and my thoughts kept coming back to you.

Insane isn’t it? The amount of space you consume in my head and my heart.

I daydreamed quite a bit. Fantasized about picking you up and us getting ice cream. Exchanging sticky sweet kisses and enjoying the sunshine together. I couldn’t focus. I had to leave work. I did not drive to your house and I fought the urge to text you.

I did however check your IG page. You posted something about wanting to bottle up a guitar sound. I want to bottle up your smile. If I had that now, I probably would be okay.

There is so much we never got to do. I’ll name a few:

Bath. I love bubble baths. There is nothing I want more than to run us a nice hot one, talk, soak, get clean, and just share the intimacy.

Intimacy. That is what I crave from you. As well as your smile, your touch, hearing you sing in the shower.

Real connection uninterrupted by my traumas and fears. My insecurities. My doubting thoughts. The way I CRAVE you…it’s hard to put into words, but I will try….I ache for you. I need you the way sunshine is needed. The way you need to sing. The way music cheers up a sad soul.

I found my notes section that is dedicated to you in my phone. I debated deleting it. I left it. Maybe you’ll come back? Please come back.

I have a list of songs to request of you to sing at karaoke if given the chance. It’s fine. I will blush and smile and awkwardly stare at my feet as I do. But I will kiss you when your song is over. I will record your performances. I will share them on my pages and smile proudly. I am proud of you, always have been.

I have been driving myself crazy trying to figure out the disconnect. I have my theories and potential reasons.

I am avoidant. That is my attachment style. Loving someone makes me nervous. I have abandonment issues. I am also actively working on them. It would be a terrible lie if I said that a second chance with you would cure it all. I would at least be aware of my shortcomings this time and you would have acquired the patience level necessary to gentle parent me through it.

Ice cream…

Today was so nice. I kept thinking of ice cream, you, a car ride and hand holding.

Intimate moments. At this point, that is all I want.

You are so missed and yet you don’t miss me. Fucking sucks. I don’t know how to feel most of the time so I typically cycle through my emotions. I phone a friend for reassurance and to talk me off the ledge. The ledge being a crash out bombard of text messages, voice notes, and phone calls that would surely get me blocked…if you haven’t already.

I desperately crave you understanding how much you mean to me. I also am trying to respect your request for a “clean break”. It’s not clean for me. It’s quite the opposite actually. I am e m o t i o n a l. I am emotional. I cry. I sit in the tub and sob. I cry at night. You taunt me in my sleep so I get no rest. First and last thing on my mind is always you. To be honest, I am not sure how you got there. I fought you very hard and well I guess I won that fight right?

You want nothing to do with me and I want everything to do with you.

I practice grandiose speeches in my head so if given even just 30 seconds of your time I can win you back. Pshh who am I kidding? You won’t even look my direction. You don’t care and I care too much.

Please stop.

That is the last thing you told me.

Cuts deep and I bleed easy. I am not necessarily mad at you but I am mad with where we are. I have lost sleep trying to understand. I have gone so far as to sympathize with you and blame it on your attachment style (anxious) or your abandonment issues. I ended up several times feeling so sad for you that you couldn’t just understand how crazy I am about you.

Crazy… maybe I am the crazy one. You are probably spending time with the girl that you met and convinced you that I was no longer worth it. You two are probably sharing a meal and listening to music. I am wiling to bet she’s a dancer or a musician. I am also willing to bet she’s nothing like me…therefore she is perfect right?

[romanoffsbish]

Puppy Love

Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Prompts | 1,683 Words

“Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?”

18+ | Minors DNI | Alluded to Smut

Kate watched you as you danced, her eyes were stuck on your body as it swayed along in perfect rhythm to the beat of the salsa music., "Kate Bishop, you're drooling.," the brunette glared over at her best friend who met her with a petty little smirk., "What?"

"I-Is it so obvious how infatuated I am?," she stuttered worriedly, the last thing the up and coming Avenger needed was for her "silly little crush" on you to get in the way of this weeks mission., "Painfully so Kate."

"I just can't help it.," she groaned pitifully and was met by chuckling—you were perfect in every sense of the word., "She's gorgeous."

——

Kate had taken a liking to you from day one, she stuttered through her introduction of herself, even offering you your own name back in lieu of hers because she was that nervous. Not only were you Natasha and Clint's more recent protege, but you were breathtakingly gorgeous, and apparently another mentor. Even if you were only a few years older than the girl, you'd learned the ropes, and elevated with Shield rather quickly before Avenging.

Yelena truly felt bad for the girl, she was nearly as clueless as Fanny was whenever she faked throwing her toys for her own amusement. There was no doubt in the blonde's mind that you shared in the infatuation, especially when she found out that you begged Fury to have her be your direct partner instead of having Kate.

Dancing was usually an intimate entanglement, and it was clear if you'd been partnered with Kate you'd likely stumble in the process of learning the salsa. The blonde has trained with you all week thus far, but today she had plans to speed this painstakingly slow love story along between you and the archer., "Oh no."

Your feet stilled when you heard a thud that was then followed by Yelena's pained yelps. When you turned around you saw the blonde on the ground, clutching her ankle, and your eyes went wider than you believed possible., "No, no, no! Yelena why?!," she deadpanned., "Oh, I don't know Y/N Y/L/N, maybe because I thought twisting my ankle would be fun!"

Truth be told she really did find this funny, because it's only a bit of plaster covered in paint over her intact ankle to give the illusion of immediate swelling. On the plus side she was likely to be babied by her older sister, and could reap the rewards of unlimited ice cream.

"What about the mission?," you shrieked, and you saw a glint in Yelena's eyes that spoke of trouble., "Kate knows the dance, she's already going on the mission anyways, so I'll have Nat take her place with Clint, and she'll take mine."

Internally you were planning the blondes murder, that sounded far too prepared to be an on the spot idea for her of all people. In the moment you were about to call her bluff, but then you met the eyes of the slightly younger woman and suddenly it wasn't all that bad an idea. Kate smiled nervously at you, her hands fidgeting like crazy as she attempted to speak., "I'm not the best, but I'm sure if we practiced together now I'd get the hang of it quickly."

"Then practice we shall.," you offered, with your hand now extending out for hers. Kate took it without hesitation, and you held back a giggle as she accidentally kicked Yelena's "bad" ankle, and the blonde nearly gave herself away when she refrained from screaming in pain until she remembered., "Ow, Kate Bishop, how could you do this to me? The pain is painful."

—

"Are you ready?," you turned to Kate, smiling so softly that she could feel her heart melting at the care you were showing her., "Yeah, I am."

"Good, because it's showtime baby.," your lips upturned when her breath hitched as your hand slipped into hers so smoothly., "Just follow my lead love, and it'll all be fine.," you pushed through the doors of the ballroom, and escorted your—mission—partner to the floor.

Kate's body was flushed, the sweet terms that slip from your tongue seem intentional, and not for the sake of the mission either. Hope fills her body even more when you pull her into you and glance at her lips, even if only for a second. The action wasn't lost on her, and if she's not a chicken she reckons she might act on it later., "Are perp is two groups to the right, I'll be the one who ends up dancing with him when Nat and Clint tell us they're securing the product."

Kate nodded, she was a bit tongue tied with your hot breaths fanning agains her face., "Alright, are you ready?," once she nodded you began to take the initiative in moving your bodies along to the music that just started. Remaining in a perfect set of steps together the whole way through, you smiled giddily when the archer surprised you with a small spin under her arm as you two turned smoothly.

The dancing chemistry the two of you shared was far greater than yours and Yelena's had been, and you weren't unaware of the reason. Kate has been the center of your heart for quite some time now, and you are grateful to Yelena for her fake fall for this opportunity to hold the archer even if only for a few minutes.

"Y/L/N, Bishop, we're in the back with the package—now's the time to distract the perp and his younger brother.," you leaned into Kate's ear to feign conversation., "Copy that Romanoff.," you pulled back with a saddened smile due to the impending loss of contact with Kate., "Don't have more fun without me.," she shook her head., "Couldn't imagine I would."

Within a few short steps you were tapping the mens shoulder, batting your eyes, and pulling their rigid forms onto the floor by their ties. Missions like these always bothered you, the way you had to be eye candy, and allow these grubby men access to your body in anyway. Kate's guy seemed polite—you deemed that to be because he was gay, but your guy wasn't.

His hands were rough as they gripped you by way of your hips, you grimaced as he pulled you incredibly close, his stubble scratching your cheek, and the overwhelming stench of his cheap cologne making you very nauseous., "Can't wait to get you outta here baby.," he husked into your ear, and you could see the way Kate's face paled from across the floor.

All you could do was giggle, letting the man feel as if he won you over, but you wore a frown as you met the brown eyes of your favorite girl. Kate smiled reassuringly at you, even if she herself wasn't feeling all that great about the situation., “Ladies—the package is secured.,” and just like that the two of your shared a smile just before spinning from the mens holds.

“Hey! Come back here!,” the man went to snatch you back up but Kate was right there to sock him in the jaw., “Don’t fucking touch what isn’t yours asshole.,” she grinned at the sight of the man whimpering as he clutched his face, then she turned to you with a softer smile., “Are you okay?,” you nodded timidly, then as to prevent being caught up in a scene you swiftly grabbed the younger girl’s forearm and ran out of the ballroom, only ever stopping the running once you found a secluded hallway.

“Thank you for defending my honor KitKat.,” she blushed almost as soon as she realized you had her body trapped against the wall., “I’m not his obviously, but then who’s am I, hm?,” you decided to goad the woman, you saw the way her brown eyes darkened ever so slightly under the dim lights as you asked such a teasing question., “Who’s do you want to be?”

You blinked in succession, a little shocked at how bold she was being in return, but you were also super into it., “Oh, who said I wanted to be anyone’s?,” you quirked a brow at her, but then you leaned in, her breath hitching as your lips brushed over her cheek., “I could be yours if you’d just ask, the staring is getting a bit old.”

Kate’s hands that were hovering over your hips now gripped the skin tightly, using the hold she flipped your bodies., “You were always mine.,” then before you could rebut her claims her pillow soft lips were pressed to yours, effective in shutting you up besides your soft moaning as her hands unconsciously slid to your ass, and began to knead at the thinly covered flesh.

“Fuck, Kate.,” you panted as your head flew back into the wall, your chest heaving as you worked expeditiously to fill your quaking lungs., “Not now baby, but definitely later.,” she winked at you, her face wearing a cheeky grin as you shivered in obvious anticipation., “I’m holding you to that.,” you whispered just before diving back in for another heady kiss., “Yeah, and I’ll be holding you down as I—.”

“Ladies. I’m so happy for you, but please do consider meeting us at the rendezvous spot before Clint leaves you in the dust.,” Natasha out of the blue teased the both of you through the coms that were still very much active., “Poor guy refused to put his hearing aids in after removing his specialty coms.,” she continued the teasing, and the two of you cackled, Kate’s red face now smushed into your chest at the idea of her mentor hearing all of that., “Copy that Romanoff, we’re headed your way now.,” you managed to reply between laughs., “Come on sweetheart. It’ll be okay.”

Kate smiled gratefully as she stepped in line behind you, because with your hand in hers she knew that those words were the absolute truth. Everything would be ok as long as she had you.

——

[neonlights92]

Night Changes: PART ONE

Jeon Jungkook has spent the last twenty years alone.  Single.  Solo. 

And that’s just the way he likes it.  That is, until he meets the supposed love of his life.  Suddenly he’s falling over himself at the chance of a real relationship with someone.

The only thing getting in his way? You.

genre: fuckboy!jungkookie, college!jungkookie, romcom, e2l (kinda)

A/N: my attempt at a college kookie story? enjooooy

--

Perhaps it is the universe telling him to stop drinking. 

Jeon Jungkook really needs to start listening to the universe, and stop listening to - well to put it bluntly - his penis. 

When he wakes up in another stranger’s bed, with a splitting headache, and lipstick marks scattered across his chest, he reckons he should start making better life choices. 

The young woman sharing his bed - a girl from the party last night, with legs that go on for miles - rolls over and blinks her eyes open sleepily.  She smiles at him.

“Hi Jungkook.” 

He racks his brain for her name.  Jisoo… Jennie… Lisa… Rose? 

He feels bad - he really really does - but what can he do?  He was seven tequilas in, when Taehyung convinced him that taking her home would be a good idea. 

“Hi…. You.”  He finishes lamely, smiling sheepishly. 

She blinks again, this time a little more furious.  Her eyes narrow after a moment. 

“You don’t remember my name, do you?”  She purses her stained lips, and Jungkook really does feel awful.

Or maybe that’s just the hangover. 

“I uh - maybe.  It’s.. Last night’s a little bit grainy for me, to be honest.”

She seems unimpressed, arching a well-groomed brow, “You’re in most of my classes at college, Jeon Jungkook.”

And really that’s when he feels like a complete asshole. 

“Shit.  I’m sorry,” He tries to place her - he tries so fucking hard - but he knows he doesn’t recognise her, and a worm of guilt starts niggling in the pit of his stomach.

She rolls her eyes and sits up, pressing a hand against her forehead and clicking her tongue, “Whatever.  Just get out.  Jerk.” 

Jungkook feels bad.  Seriously, he does. 

But he can’t help but share her sentiment.  

He scrambles out of bed, fishing around her bedroom floor for the jeans he so carelessly threw off, and the white shirt he’s sure is stained with something he’ll never be able to get rid of.  He stumbles into the clothing and turns back towards the nameless woman glaring at him from underneath the covers.

“Do you hate me?”

She rolls her eyes, “Get out of my house, asshole.” He winces.  He knows he deserves that.

“See you soon?” She shakes her head, and tugs a hand through her unruly hair, “Hopefully not.” Jungkook bolts out of there like his life depends on it but just as he pulls the front door open, somebody else blocks his way.  And suddenly everything in the world shifts, and he feels as though his heart has just split open right down the middle. 

Because standing in front of him, holding two bags of groceries, is an absolute angel.  

Jungkook thinks - no he’s certain - she’s the most beautiful woman he’s seen in his entire life, and now he understands the songs, and the sonnets and the plays.  This is what love at first sight is.

It has to be.

“Oh.”  She laughs a little, “Hi.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Hi.”

“You must be Y/N’s guest.” 

Y/N.  So that’s her name.

“Uh… Yeah.”

Her cheeks flush brightly, “I’m Soomi, Y/N’s roommate.” 

“Nice to meet you Y/N’s roommate.  I’m Jungkook.”

When she giggles, Jungkook feels like he’s ascended into another plane of existence.  

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.”  Her eyes lower to his haphazardly buttoned shirt, “Under the circumstances.” Jungkook feels stupid and wonderful all at the same time, and just as he’s about to do something crazy - like ask for her number, or ask her to marry him, even - somebody clears their throat from behind him.

In a moment, Jungkook remembers exactly where he is.  His heart drops.

Shit.

Y/N.

“I see you’ve met the asshole I slept with last night,” Y/N raises a brow and clicks her tongue, “You were just on your way out, Jungkook, weren’t you?”

“I… Uh…  Yeah.  On my way out.” Jungkook knows he has no right to feel dejected - after all he was the one who couldn’t remember Y/N’s name in the first place.  But he’s sure Soomi might very well be the love of his life, and he can’t possibly just walk out like this, can he? But when he turns to face Soomi he notices she’s already stepped out of the way for him… And there’s really nothing more he can do.  

“Well uh… It was nice to meet you Soomi,” He moves into the hallway and turns to give Y/N a half smile, “See you in class.”

“Like I said.”  Y/N pulls a face, “Hopefully not.”

Soomi giggles again and he feels like he’s been shot straight through the heart, “Bye Jungkook!”

The door slams shut in his face, and the moment Jungkook is alone he notices how quickly his heart is racing.  Oh god.

He’s in love. 

He has to be.

//

“Jungkook.  You’re being ridiculous.”  Jungkook’s roommate Namjoon rolls his dark eyes, “She is not the “love of your life.”  Stop being so dramatic, you sound like Jin.” Jungkook feels like his heart is about to burst.  It’s been less than three hours since he met Soomi and all he can think about is the curve of her smile.

“No.  I’m serious, Namjoon.  C’mon, when have you ever known me to feel this way about a girl?”

Namjoon sets his mug of coffee to one side and clicks his tongue, “Never.  I’ve never known you to feel this way about a girl.  Which only further proves my point - you’re being ridiculous.”

“You’re just made of ice,” He comments bitterly, “I’m serious Namjoon.  I’m in love.”

“Listen Jungkook you know I usually love to disagree with Namjoon,” This comes from Jungkook’s other roommate Taehyung who is slung across the couch lazily, “But I’ve got to say… This time he’s got a point.  You sound like a crazy person.”

“If you saw her you’d know exactly what I mean.” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes so hard Jungkook is surprised he doesn’t lose one to the back of his skull.

“It’s a girl Jungkook.  A girl you met for all of twenty seconds.” “She was an angel.”

Taehyung giggles, “You’ve really got it bad huh?” “My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since I left her.”  Jungkook feels himself deflate slightly, “I need to see her again.” “And how are you going to do that?”  Taehyung raises a dark brow, “Surely you don’t have any classes with her, or you would’ve seen her by now.”

“No but… I have classes with Y/N.”  Jungkook knows it’s a dumb suggestion.  

But he can’t help it.  He needs to see Soomi again. 

“Y/N as in the girl who you slept with and who’s name you couldn’t remember?”  Namjoon scoffs, “Even you can’t be dumb enough to think she’d help you out of the goodness of her heart.”

“No… Maybe not out of the goodness of her heart.”  Jungkook agrees, carding a hand through his cherry red locks, “But I can figure out something she wants.  Y’know… Mutually beneficial.”

“I hope you’re not talking about your penis,” Taehyung pulls a face. 

“Have you not been listening for the past hour Taehyung?  I am in love with Soomi - I’m not about to sleep with her roommate...Again.  I’m a one woman man.”

Namjoon pushes himself to his feet, “Your only hope is that she’s in love with somebody else.  Somebody you could potentially help her seduce.”

Jungkook stands too, “That’s brilliant.” “What about Hoseok?” Taehyung cocks his head to the side, “Everybody’s in love with Hoseok.”

“Do not drag Hoseok into this Jungkook.”  Namjoon gives his friend a pointed look, “I’m serious.  He’s still heartbroken over Alexa.”

“Alexis,” Taehyung corrects, “Why can’t you ever bother to get the names of our girlfriends right?”

As Namjoon and Taehyung argue over Namjoon’s inability to remember names correctly, Jungkook starts thinking of all the ways he can convince Y/N to help him with Soomi.

It’ll be a piece of cake.

Or so he hopes.

//

Monday morning rolls around and Jungkook spends practically every minute from the moment he leaves his dorm scouring the campus for Y/N.  She isn’t in his first class of the day - or even the second.  By his third class of the day he starts to wonder if maybe she’d confused him with someone else.

Maybe there’s another Jeon Jungkook on campus who sleeps with attractive women and forgets their name in the morning.  Somebody else is stealing his game.

But then - like a vision from heaven - she walks into his political science class as if she isn’t the key to all his happiness. Her eyes flit across the lecture room and when they land on Jungkook she glares.  He wants to sink back against himself but he refuses - instead he smiles widely and gestures for her to sit in the empty seat beside him.

She shakes her head as if he’s crazy (and to be honest, he might be) and instead moves towards the very back, sliding into a seat all on her own. 

Jungkook grunts.  He can’t really blame her. 

Still.  Does she really have to make things so difficult?

He grabs his books and shuffles over to where Y/N is sat, engrossed by something on her phone.  When he looks closer he realises it's one of those pimple popping compilations on Youtube.

Gross.

Jungkook clears his throat and when she looks up her expression morphs from surprise into annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting beside my new friend,” He grins wider, “Y/N.”

Her eyes narrow into slits, “What do you want?”

“To make amends,” Jungkook answers immediately, “I kind of feel like an asshole.” “You should.”  She gives him another look of annoyance, “But I’m also not stupid.  You’ve got the hots for Soomi, haven’t you?”

Jungkook feels his stomach drop.  Is he that obvious?

“Everyone has the hots for Soomi,” Y/N waves her hand noncommittally and gives him a once over, “Though not everyone has slept with her roommate.”

Jungkook winces.  It’s clear Y/N despises him.

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

“For forgetting my name or for giving me the worst head of my life?” The insult sears him.  Jungkook may be a little bit of a lady’s man but he’s always been determined to please his lovers.  He wishes he could remember any part of their tryst (to prove her wrong, more than anything) but once again he draws a blank.

“I can make it up to you.” She raises a brow, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with her - before Y/N’s attention is stolen by the figure that has just walked through the double doors of their lecture room.  Jungkook follows her gaze and smirks when he realises who she’s staring at.

“So you have the hots for Park Jimin then?”

Y/N’s eyes snap up to meet his and she seems flustered, “What?”

“You just looked at him like he rearranged the stars to spell your name,” Jungkook’s smirk widens, “You like him.”

Y/N looks ready to smack him across the face.  

“Shut up.”

“I’m not wrong though, am I?” When her eyebrows dip into a scowl, Jungkook knows he’s won this battle.  He leans towards her, conspiratorially. 

“I know Jimin well.”

That’s kind of a bold statement (and kind of a lie.)  Jungkook knows of Jimin.  He’s on the same dance team as Taehyung and Hoseok - two of Jungkook’s closest friends.  That’s enough of an in, isn’t it?

“No you don’t.”  She mutters with a roll of her eyes, “I can see where you’re going with this.”

“No seriously.  He’s best friends with Kim Taehyung,” Again a slight overstatement, but Jungkook doesn’t correct himself, “And Taehyung is like my brother.  We grew up together.”

“So what?  You help me out with Jimin and I have to do the same for Soomi?”  She scoffs, “Soomi and I are best friends.  I don’t want to lie to her.” “It wouldn’t be lying.”  Jungkook’s voice pinches a little, “It’s just helping fate along.” “Fate?”  Y/N’s expression morphs into one of disbelief, “Oh my god.  You really do have the hots for her.” “If cupid himself descended to earth and shot me in the ass with an arrow, I’d feel exactly the same for her.  Seriously.”

Y/N seems to contemplate the suggestion.  Her eyes move to meet the back of Jimin’s head - where he’s sat in the front row - and she sighs heavily.  Jungkook tries to read her face. 

Is she softening up to the idea?

“Let’s say I agreed to help you.”  Her voice is flat, “How can I be sure Soomi won’t just be another notch on your bedpost?”

Jungkook feels his chest constrict, “I resent that.  Just because I have more experience than others doesn’t mean I’m an asshole.  I don’t pursue women with the intentions of fucking them over.”

He won’t admit it but that assumption kind of pisses him off.  

When Y/N is quiet a moment longer, Jungkook sighs and tugs a hand through his hair. 

“If I do fuck her over…. Which I won’t.  I give you full permission to start a rumour that my penis is the size of a cocktail sausage.  I won’t even deny it.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and Jungkook notices (but doesn’t comment on) a red flush to her neck.

“Alright.  Fine.  I’ll help you out with Soomi, if you help me out with Jimin.”

Jungkook has to force himself not to punch the air in triumph.  Instead he grins - nice and wide - and nudges Y/N playfully, “I think this is the start of a very beautiful friendship.”

She groans.

“I’m already regretting this.”

//

Jungkook sends Y/N a text message the next morning, bright and early.  He doesn’t expect a response from her - he assumes she’s more of a night owl than an early bird - but then his phone pings in response and he has to say he’s a little surprised.

Jungkook: good mornin’ y/n… this is cupid calling 

Y/N: y’know..  I knew giving you my number was a bad idea 

Jungkook: oh c’mon don’t be like that, now that we’re friends you should definitely start warming up to me

Her reply takes a little longer but Jungkook isn’t worried.  Despite what she feels towards him, Y/N thinks her only way to Jimin’s heart is through Jungkook.  So she’ll just have to put up with it.

Y/N: I just puked in my mouth at the thought of warming up anywhere close to you.  Gross

Jungkook smiles at her response.

Jungkook: I think you like me more than you're willing to admit.  Anyway we need to get on with our…. Agreement.  Want to come round this evening to discuss arrangements?  I’ll even throw in some pizza and beer.

Y/N: I only like hawaiian.

Jungkook: Disgusting.  You and Namjoon will get on fantastically then.  Alright hawaiian it is. 

He sends her his address and when she replies with the puking emoji he laughs despite himself.

Maybe she’s not all that bad.

//

“Pineapple on pizza is a cardinal sin.” Y/N glares at Jungkook as she tucks into her third slice, “Why are you hating?”

“I just - I don’t get it.”

Y/N had arrived at his apartment earlier that evening with a six pack of beer in what Jungkook had assumed was a begrudging olive branch.  The two of them had spent the last hour discussing the delicate intricacies of mario kart, and Jungkook had found himself enjoying her company more and more.

He hated to admit it but she was kind of cool.

Only kind of, though.

“You don’t get it because your taste buds are subpar,” She moves her mouth into a small smile and Jungkook almost gasps at the gesture, “Hawaiian is the only acceptable way to eat pizza.  Period.”

“Y’know you look much cuter when you smile,” He quips, watching as she chokes on the last piece of crust, “You should do it more often.” Her eyes narrow into a glare, “I smile at people who bother to remember my name.”

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that.  I’m helping you out with Jimin aren’t I?”

Y/N laughs - and Jungkook is surprised at the warmth in her tone, “At a price.  Or are you forgetting I’m setting you up with Soomi?”

“Which reminds me,” He scoots closer towards her, pushing the pizza box out of the way, “What’s our plan of action?” Y/N seems to pause for a moment, her eyes flicking nervously across his face as she tucks some of her hair behind her ear.  Jungkook doesn’t comment on her sudden shift in behaviour, but he notices it. 

Man.  Girls are weird.

“I thought maybe… You could come over one night, to watch a movie or whatever.  And you could ask Taehyung and Jimin to join, too.”

Jungkook nods emphatically, “That’s a good plan.  Something intimate to really plant those seeds of love.”

Y/N laughs again and he notices the crinkles at the sides of her eyes when she does so.  Weird.  Why hasn’t he seen those before?  Admittedly… It’s kind of adorable.

“Plant those seeds of love,” She pulls a face, “You really are a wordsmith, Jeon Jungkook.” 

“Is it any wonder when my major is English lit?”

“Me too,” She cocks her head to one side, hair falling out from behind her ears, “Makes sense why you’re in most of my classes.”

Jungkook feels kind of (very) guilty as memories of their morning together are brought back.

“I really do feel like shit for not remembering you.”  He rubs the back of his neck in that universal boy sign for awkwardness, and clicks his tongue, “I wish I had.”

She shrugs, her eyes darkening a moment as she looks away, “It’s alright.  I’m kind of used to it to be honest.  Always been more of a... Background kind of person.” 

Jungkook clucks, like a mother hen disappointed at her chicks, “Hey don’t say that about yourself.”

When Y/N moves her eyes to meet with his own again, Jungkook notices she doesn’t seem angry or bitter.   Just resigned.

“But it’s true,” She licks her bottom lip and smiles almost sadly, “Soomi’s always been the centre of attention everywhere we go.  And I’ve known her… Forever, really.  So it makes sense.  Someone always has to take the back seat.  I don’t mind it.  Suits me just fine.”

Now Jungkook really feels like an asshole.  When she was prickly, it was easy to shove everything under the carpet, and pretend that not knowing her name wasn’t sort of horrible.

But now she was being nice, it made everything a hundred times worse.

“I’m sorry Y/N.  Really.”  

She meets his gaze again and smiles - this time a little lighter, “Don’t worry about it.  Now you know who I am… And you’ll never forget it.  Not least because I’m the love of your life’s best friend.”

Jungkook feels kind of awful right now, but he knows that apologising again will probably only annoy her.  He tucks his guilt somewhere into the back of his mind and smiles widely, trying to ease the mood.

“Right.  And I’m the person who is going to help you snag the man of your dreams!” 

She laughs at that, taking a final chug of her beer before setting the empty bottle to one side.

“Park Jimin here I come!”

“You’ve got a one way ticket to Bonetown and Jimin is flying first class!”

She laughs louder, this time snorting, “That makes no sense, but I’ll take it.”

They spend the rest of the evening hanging out in a way that feels strangely familiar, and it’s only when Y/N’s head begins to lull to one side that Jungkook realises it’s past three am.  And as he orders her an uber home, and insists she takes the final slice of pizza for the journey home, Jungkook realises that Y/N is more than just kind of cute.

She’s kind of great.

//

Later on that week, as Jungkook fills Namjoon and Taehyung in on his progress with Y/N, the former seems less than impressed.

“This is only going to end badly.”  Namjoon shakes his head, “Haven’t you ever seen a romantic comedy?  Shit like this only ends in tears.”

Jungkook takes a swig from his beer and rolls his eyes, “Have you ever tried to be positive a single day in your life Namjoon?  Y/N agreed to help me.  It’s progress.”

“But you dragged me into it,” Taehyung seems unimpressed, “And I told you me and Jimin aren’t even that close.”

“Okay so I might have embellished slightly….”

“Slightly?  You called us the best of friends,” Taehyung groans at his friend’s stupidity, “I’m not sure Jimin even knows what major I’m taking.”

“This is the most Jungkook problem of all time,” Namjoon guffaws at the situation, “How the hell are you going to sort this out.” “Tae - I just need you to convince Jimin to come on one date.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, “I don’t know him that well, Kook.  What exactly am I supposed to say?” 

“I don’t know but you once convinced your mom those nudes of you that got leaked senior year of high school were actually for an art project,” Jungkook pleads with his friend, “I know  you can do this.” Taehyung laughs at the memory and pulls a face, “If he says no though, there’s not much else I can do.” “Fine.  But at least try.”

Jungkook knows that the universe is working in his favour.  It has to be.  The moment he laid eyes on Soomi he knew he’d never be happy again without her.

“Alright Kook I’ll try.  But I’m not making any promises.” Jungkook grins, “You’re the best.”

“I know I am,” He leans further back into the couch and grabs a slice of the pizza Namjoon ordered, surreptitiously picking off the pineapple, “Now what are you going to do about Y/N?” Jungkook raises a brow, “What do you mean?” “Well you described her as a she-demon,” Namjoon snorts, choking on some of his beer, “How exactly is that going to seduce Jimin?” “Remember everyone loves him,” Taehyung tacks on - less than helpfully - his smirk growing, “She’s going to have to get in line.” “Everyone does not love Jimin.”

Taehyung scoffs, “You’re kidding right?  I once watched him turn down three girls in one night.”

“Yeah.  This girl from my psych class says he’s still heart broken from his ex,” Namjoon seems to be enjoying Jungkook’s predicament a little too much, “Says he won’t even give anyone a chance.”

Jungkook refuses to let his friends’ pessimism get in the way of his elation.  He’s one step closer to Soomi, and if Jimin thinks he can be the one to stand in his way he’s got another thing coming.

“I’ll make it work.”  He answers with more confidence than he necessarily feels, “Besides, Y/N’s not that bad.  In certain lights she might even be considered kind of… Cute.  She’s just a little...brash.”

“Could her brashness towards you be due to the fact you forgot her name after an evening of vigorous love making?”  Taehyung gives his friend a knowing look, “I mean that would probably even hurt you Jungkook.  And you’re the master of not giving a fuck.”

“I apologised.”  He says it like that should fix everything, but in the depths of his heart Jungkook knows forgetting her name was kind of (really) shitty, “Besides.  If I really do set her up with Jimin and this all works out perfectly she’ll have a lot to thank me for.  Might even forgive me.”

Taehyung laughs and Namjoon pulls a face.

“We live in hope.” “That we do Joon.” Jungkook grins, “That we do.”

//

[imthebadguyyy]

Mon Amour

Summary - You've grown up with Charles, and as much as you hate to admit it, you love him. Pierre knows, and clearly sees how desperately Charles loves you too. It's true what they say, love will always find a way.

The Monaco Grand Prix was one of the most fun, exhilarating and exciting Grand Prix's of the entire F1 Season. You were excited enough, and since you already lived nearby, all you had to do was make your way to Charles's home, and then make your way to the track together. To say you were excited was an understatement, and you could barely contain the nerves and excitement you were feeling.

Charles was nervous. He didn't know why, Monaco was his circuit, and he always drove well on the track. He had been confident through free practice, and he was starting on pole, with an excellent quali result. But he was nervous, and something told him it had nothing to do with the race, and everything to do with Y/N.

Y/N. His best friend. His go-to. His shoulder to cry on. She had been there through it all, when his dad died, when Jules died. Whenever he needed someone to talk to or just needed a hug, he could always turn to her. He had met Y/N at a go kart race, sitting with her mother, and eating an ice lolly. Her hair had been in two little ponytails, and she was wearing a pretty polka doted red and blue dress. He was sitting with Pierre, and couldn't help staring at the girl, not even paying attention to what Pierre was saying, until he had snapped his fingers in front of Charles's face to tell him the race was about to begin.

The race had been wonderful, and he had won first place. His dad and Pierre's dad had both been so proud, and had bought both of them ice creams, and as they sat eating their cones, Y/N had made her way over to the pair. "You drove really well today, and my mommy told me I should come over to say congratulations" Too surprised to say anything, he let Pierre take over, and watched as he conversed with her. Then, she turned to him and said, "Whats your name? Mine's Y/N' and he had managed to stutter out, "C-Charles"

And thats how your friendship had begun. Since then, you had accompanied him to every race he had, had been there when he signed for Sauber (Alfa Romeo) and then when he signed for Ferrari. You had been so proud, you had cried when he told you, and hugged him tight and told him that you were incredibly proud of him, and that you were sure that his dad and Jules would have been incredibly proud of him too. And then he had cried too, and you two had cried together, and spent the rest of the night together, just hugging each other.

And here you were again, at his door, looking simply stunning in the outfit you had picked for the race track, looking like an angel sent from heaven. Well, you were his angel. The problem was, he couldn't tell you. You didn't love him, and the last thing he needed was to jeopardise your relationship by confessing his feelings. His stupid, stupid feelings.

"You look gorgeous" Charles said, leaning forward to give you a hug, and a soft kiss on your cheek. If he had been looking at you, he probably would have seen how you had gotten slightly flustered at his gesture. "Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself' you replied, reciprocating his gesture by kissing his cheek. Apparently, neither one of you were good at paying attention, because you didn't see the way he blushed either. "Ready for the race?" "Always" "Is Pierre going to be there?" "Yes he is, we'll probably meet him on the way to the paddock" As much as he hated to admit it, he always felt a pang of jealousy when you brought up his best friend, because he thought that you had feelings for the Frenchman,

"Okay then" "Are you ready to go?"

Nodding your head, you picked up your purse and checked your reflection in the mirror one more time, and brushed a stray strand of unruly hair behind your ears. Grabbing the keys to his Ferrari, he closed the door as the both of you left his house. The car ride to the paddock was fairly quiet, as you made occasional comment about random things, and bopped your heads to some music.

Arriving at the paddock, Charles noticed the paps that were waiting to descend upon you two like vultures. "merde" he mumbled under his breath, knowing you didn't really liken your picture being taken by random strangers. Sighing, you reached out to touch his shoulder. Its okay. I don't mind" 'I know, but it's unfair to you to have your privacy invaded" he replied, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Hey, it's okay. Let's just go". Opening the car door, you took a deep breath to calm the nerves beginning to appear in your tummy.

But you needn't have worried. As soon as you opened the car door, Charles was by your side, lacing his fingers through yours, the other arm wrapping around your waist, to fully protect you from the prying cameras. Trying not to focus on how right it felt, to have his arm around your body, and to feel his fingers threading through your own. Your heart was beating so fast, you wouldn't be surprised if he could hear it, considering how closely wrapped he was around your own body. As the Ferrari garage came into view, you began to calm down, and became aware of the fact that his arm was still wrapped around your waist, and his hand was still holding yours.

-------------------------------------------------------

Walking over from the Toro Rosso/Alpha Tauri garage, Pierre spotted Charles and Y/N making their way over to the Ferrari. Noticing the way Charles kept his arm tightly around Y/N, he couldn't help but grin, and assumed that Charles had finally told Y/N how he felt about her. Grinning even more broadly, he strutted over to the Ferrari garage, and walked over to where his best friend was standing with Mattia and his race engineer. "Hello, mon ami. I see you've finally done it?" somewhat confused, Charles turned to face the frenchmen, and asked, "Done what?" 'Told Y/N you love her" Pierre replied, watching his friends face glow the same red as the colour of his car and race suit. "What?! I have done no such thing. What would make you think that?"

"Let me think, because you've been in love with her since we were children. Come on Charles, don't chicken out now. You should definitely tell her. She is an extremely attractive woman, and I won't be surprised if someone else also likes her or asks her out. You two are made for each other. Now stop delaying !" Sighing, Charles just shook his head, and went into his drivers room, turning halfway to wave at his friend. Somewhat frustrated, he walked into the room, kicking the door in the process. "fanculo, idiota!" he mumbled, hands reaching up to his head to pull on his and let out a growl.

"Charles? You okay ?" Y/N asked, peeking her head into his room, slight concern in her E/C eyes. "Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just nervous" 'Nervous?' she asked walking in, and sitting down next to him. "Yeah, it's a big race, and points are very important if we want to beat Mercedes and actually win this year. Besides the last race wasn't that good, and Mattia was a little upset about it. I'm just a little nervous" Reaching out to take his hand into hers, Y/N ran a soft hand through his hair, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second. "Charles, listen to me. You are an incredibly talented person. When you get in the car, you push it to the limits and you give it everything. It's okay to be nervous, but you're on pole. I know you will give it your all, and every single person in this garage believes in you. And I believe in you the most. So go out there , and give it your everything. I know you can do it" As you had been speaking, Charles had been running his thumb over your knuckles, on the hand that was holding his, and when you finished, he raised it to his lips, and pressed his soft, pink lips to your knuckles.

"Thank you, tesoro" You froze. He had never called you 'sweetheart' before. You could feel your heart rate rising ever so slightly, and your breathing become slightly shallow, as his brown hazel eyes looked up into your own, and seemingly held your gaze. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, reaching upto a point where it was nearly suffocating. Heads leaning closer to each other, his hand tightening the grip he had on yours, sliding softly up your arm, as your eyes fluttered shut, the anticipation sending your heart rate up to crazy numbers. His face was so close to yours, you could feel his breath on your lips, almost hear his heartbeat, and hoping to God he couldn't hear how embarrassingly loud yours was. Just as your lips nearly touched, there was a knock on the door, and his race engineer, poked his head in, looking somewhat awkward. "Its time to go Charles, time to get in the car"

Sighing softly, he pulled away, as your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids. "Go and win this. I'll be cheering you on" you said, not quite meeting his eyes, but giving him a soft, half hearted smile. "Thanks" he said, giving your hand a squeeze, as he walked out to the garage to get in his car. Burying your head in your hands, you felt like you could scream, sob and punch something at the same time. Letting out a shaky breath, you ran a hand over your face and stood up, making your way up to where you were watching the race from.

-------------------------------------------------------

The race was over, and Charles had won 1st place, with Lewis in second and Valterri in third. As he had stood on the podium, he had found your face in the crowd, smiling and cheering for him, as you let out a whoop that he couldn't hear, but you didn't care. The adrenaline from the win was pumping through his veins, as he climbed down from the podium, eyes searching for you, as his teammates and crew congratulated him on his win, but he was really only half listening.

Then he saw you, standing in front of the garage, hair flying around in the wind that had picked up in the last lap of the race. Smiling as you looked up to see him, you began to run towards him, as he ran to meet you halfway. You jumped into his arms, as his wrapped around your thighs and your waist to keep you stable, as you wrapped yours around his muscled neck, leaning your forehead down to rest against his, as you muttered a soft "congratulations' in his ear, and pressed your lips to his temple, as his eyes closed, fully revelling in your embrace and body heat, not caring about how the paps had probably got a pretty good shot of you two, or how the tabloids were probably wetting themselves with article possibilities. 'thank you mon ange, thank you for supporting me" "anytime"

As you planted your feet back on the ground, and loosened your grip around him slowly, he moved his arm so one was wrapped around your waist, and the other rested loosely on his hip. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pierre approaching, and smiled at his best friend. "Congratulation mon ami. That was a superb race. Y/N long time no see, seems like you have forgotten me"

Giggling, you stepped away from Charles to give him a hug. "Of course not, how could I forget my best friend! I was going to saw hello before the race but I didn't get the chance. Good race!" "Thank you, It's so good to see you again here. Looks like Charles has been taking up all your time" He said, smirking at the Monégasque driver, who blushed, before looking away. Laughing, you shook your head, moving your body closer to Charles's again. "Oh Y/N you should come to the party tonight. It's on a yacht, and we can have some good fun a well. What do you say ?' "Oh I'm in!"

"You can come as one of our plus ones" Pierre said, eyes shifting over to Charles's face which was the same colour as his bright red Ferrari suit. Charles wanted to punch and hug Pierre at the same time, clearly seeing what he was trying to do. "Yeah, okay I'll be there" "Great! See you then, bye for now. Go celebrate with your man"

"your man"

Why did that sound so right? Why did it make your heart burst with happiness? Why did you want him to be your man? And why did it seem like the one thing you wanted the most was the one thing you couldn't have.

-------------------------------------------------------

Looking at the mirror one last time, you smoothed out the silky material of the red satin dress you had decided to wear to the party. Paired with a black choker necklace, and a pair of sleek black heels to finish the outfit. You had gone bold with the makeup, winged liner and smoky eyeshadow. Finally, you had swiped a tube of ruby red lipstick across your lips, and sprayed some more -expensive -than -you -could -even -begin- to -fathom Gucci perfume that Charles had bought you for your birthday on your wrists, neck, ears, and body.

You didn't know what you were doing. But it felt good to be confident. It felt good to pretend as though you were completely in control, when all you wanted was to curl up in a little ball, and cry. You didn't know what you were doing, but it felt good to pretend as though you didn't care for Charles, when all you wanted to do was grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss his wonderfully soft, pink lips.

Shaking off your anxiety, you reached for the phone to call Pierre, who was supposed to pick you up and drive you to the party. Charles had wanted too, but he had to go and meet some friends who wanted to congratulate on his victory. Taking a deep breath, you picked up your black clutch, which had your phone, lipstick, tissues and your keys, just in time to hear a knock on the door. Walking over to the door of your Monaco apartment, you opened it to find Pierre, in a lovely light blue suit, hair slicked slightly with gel, and a Rolex on his wrist. As he looked at you, his eyes widened, and he looked at you in shock for a few seconds, before saying "You look absolutely stunning, princess. Absolutely gorgeous" "Thank you Pierre ! You're looking pretty dapper yourself, I must say" you replied, flashing him a smile. "Thank you Y/N/N. Someone won't be able to keep his eyes off of you" he said, smirking as he saw your eyes widen softly, as you grew visibly flustered. "Who?" You asked, suddenly interested in looking at the clutch in your hand. "Oh come on, Leonardo DiCaprio. Who do you think ?!'

"I don't know, Pierre. Why don't you tell me?"

"Ces deux idiots, Charles, you sweet dumbass!"

"Yeah right. Let's just go please, we are already late, and I don't want to be out for too long"

"Fine"

-------------------------------------------------------The party was extravagant. There were these model chicks everywhere, with the most minimal of clothing, drooling over whichever driver they could find. Charles had had this one blonde girl hit on him for nearly an hour, and he was nearing the end of his patience. He didn't want any random girl for a one night stand. He wanted Y/N. And she wasn't at the party yet. But God, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He couldn't stop thinking about the moment they had shared. They had almost kissed. His heart did little jumps whenever he thought about it, and GOD, he was not doing a good job at hiding it. Everyone in the room had noticed the lovestruck look on his face. From across the room, George and Alex made their way over the Monégasque driver, who looked lost, and slightly irritated.

"Hey man, good job today! That was an excellent race" "Thanks, you guys did brilliantly as well"

"So who's got you looking like a little lost puppy?" George asked, grinning at the man, who looked slightly flustered at his comment. "What? No one, just post race excitement I suppose?"

"I'm not taking your word for it. Who's the girl? Come on"

Just as Charles opened his mouth to speak, there was a slight distraction, as he turned towards the door on the left, where people kept coming and going, and his jaw dropped. It was Y/N. But she looked like an angel that had fallen from the heavens, and sent to bless his heart. As he watched her make her way across the room, with Pierre right behind her, he felt his mouth and throat become dry, and his heart felt like it was going to fail at any moment. His palms were becoming sweaty and he felt like a nervous wreck, ready to collapse at any moment.

"Wow, mate. Is that Y/N ? She looks stunning!" Alex said, smiling as he watched her make her way towards their little group. "Yeah it is mate. She looks absolutely gorgeous!" George said, waving to the woman as she neared them. Charles couldn't speak.He just stared. "When you've put your eyes back in your head, and closed your mouth, you could maybe compliment her, and finally ask her out." Alex said, noticing how his friend had become silent and kept opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish.

Laughing, George clapped Charles on the back, "Ah, so she's the one that's got you all lovey dovey. Good going mate, she's a beauty" As he finished speaking, Y/N had approached the group, and was saying hello to Alex. Leaning forward, George gave her a hug as well, having become acquainted with her through Pierre. "Y/N you look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous" he said, smiling at her, "Thank you so much! You guys all look lovely too!"

'You're too kind Y/N, George looks like he hasn't even brushed his hair back properly" Alex joked, receiving a slight shove from the Brit. "And, Charles, what do you think? How do I look this fine evening?" you asked, turning to face him. His face was slightly flushed and he mumbled something that sounded like "mimblewimble" and then cleared his throat. "You look prettier than anyone here tonight. You look like an angel"

Completely awestruck at his words, all you could do was gape, and then mutter a soft thank you, and pray to God he couldn't feel the nerves radiating off of you. "Well, despite the lovely company, and palpable sexual tension, I'm going to go find Max and Daniel, and go get a drink" Alex said, giving Y/N a hug and leaving with George. Leaving you alone with a very flustered Charles. "Do you want to get out of here?' he asked suddenly, looking at you with his warm hazel brown eyes. "I just got here, but yes please. I already feel so out of place among these models and superstars" you said, giggling softly. "Well, they've got nothing on you. Trust me, you're fifteen times prettier than anyone else here"

"Thank you Charles" you said, smiling softly, and touching his arm. "Anytime,tesoro" there it was again, that nickname that had your heart jumping. The last time he had called you that you guys had almost kissed. The memory returned, filling your tummy with butterflies, and all you wanted to do was to grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss him. The two of you made your way down to the docks, where you had a special spot that was like a hidden cave, covered with some wildflowers and ivy, that you two had discovered when you guys were fifteen, and you had had a bad day at school. Charles had hugged you, and told you, "no matter how bad a day at school is, I will always be there to hug you and make you feel better, always" That was when you had fallen in love with him.

As you made your way to the cave, you shivered, the sea air that was blowing around was surprisingly chilly, and you had forgotten to bring a jacket. Being the gentleman that he was, Charles took of his dark blue suit jacket, and draped it around your soldiers. 'Can't have you freezing to death" "I won't" you replied, regretting your decision to wear heels. As the two of you reached the cave, you sat down on the floor, and pulled off your heels, and stretched your legs out, letting out a sigh as you did so. Smiling at your actions, Charles sat down next to you, his thigh brushing against yours, arm wrapping around your waist, as your head dropped onto his shoulder.Beneath you two, the water lapped gently against the rocks, and the soft sound was calming and soothing.

For a while, you stayed that way, you tracing random patterns onto his left hand, while his right arm that was wrapped around your waist traced circles on your waist. His head was resting on top of yours now, and in the chilly air, the warmth radiating off of his body was comforting. "Y/N, do you like Pierre?" he blurted out suddenly, making you look up at him in shock. "What makes you think that?' you asked, leaning slightly away from his body to look at his face properly. "Well, I just assumed, I guess, you do seem very very comfortable and happy around him" "Oh my god, you idiot" you said, giggling softly at the slight look of jealousy on his face. "Pierre was right"

"What was he right about ?"

"Nothing"

"Look I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from its just that I love you and -"

You cut him off, pressing your lips to his, as his arms wrapped around your torso, after initial surprise. Yours made his way to his shoulders, one on his shoulder, and the other to the back of his head, while his grip around your body tightened. You two fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, bodies moulding into each other, lips fitting like two puzzle pieces together. This was what you had been missing from your life. This passionate, romantic, breath taking love, one that made your heart go 200 miles an hour and then stop.

Charles couldn't believe what was happening. He was kissing Y/N, and it felt so right. She was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume was clouding his senses in the best way possible, filling him with a new need, a hunger that had been growing for so long was finally being satiated, and it was electrifying. He slid his hands up her back, to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling ever so slightly, and revelling in the sound that left her lips.

Finally breaking away, panting and out of breath, he rested his forehead on hers. "je t'aime mon amour" he mumbled, eyelids fluttering shut. "I love you too. So much" Completely blissed out, the two remained in their embrace, neither of them wanting to break apart, from what felt like a dream. "Did you just kiss me, or am I dreaming" He asked, looking down at Y/N who had her head on his shoulder again.

"Why don't you kiss me again and find out ?"

"Of course, mon amour"

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