#meadows masterlist

Chris Dixon, Team GB’s “Pocket Rocket.” He’s been plotting the murder of commentating duo (cough Will and James) for coining that nickname, which now follows him like the plague. After a fall on the final run in Sochi, a fall on the first run in PyeongChang and being just edged out of bronze medal position in Beijing, Chris is ready to throw in the towel. Luckily, Chris has got you, a friend, best friend in fact. A shoulder to cry on. Someone he can go to who will give him no bullshit advice and opinions. He trusts you with his life. Bit awkward he’s in love with you.

You met Chris while you were a ski instructor for kids. He was training at the same snow center. The kids all loved him and knew him from the TV. What started off as polite greetings, blossomed into late night conversations, inside jokes, there’s teasing over whose sport is better and your hopes and dreams. The usual friendship things. Except the falling in love part. That was Chris’s fault. What? He couldn’t hide the cheesy grin that spread across his face whenever a text from you came through. Every time he made a mistake in practice, he’d hear your voice in his head, encouraging him not to give up. He’d see how well you worked with the kids you taught, you were always able to make them smile if they were feeling upset, squashed any arguments, the parents all loved you as well. Once he’s back from Beijing and the Olympic/Paralympic buzz is over, you’re able to convince Chris for “one last shot.” “Maybe Milan will be different?” You offer, and Chris prays you’re right. But, you’re both older now, and haven’t had any time for fun since you were working full time, and he was always training. So, a month away on a ski trip wouldn’t hurt, right? You’re with your group of friends. To be honest, you and Chris barely have any time together because it’s always so busy, you each keep being dragged from bar to bar, from mountain to mountain, it’s all a whirlwind. 

Well…there was this one time, you decided to have a night in. You’ve got the chalet to yourself while everyone goes out. Using this as an opportunity to have a nice relaxing dip in the outdoor hot tub. It’s just you, in the lovely warm and bubbling water, and the snowy mountains surrounding you. You’re not sure how long you’re out there, maybe you’re reading a book, maybe there’s a podcast on, maybe you’re just enjoying the calm. Until Chris comes home early. He swears his heart skips a beat when he sees you, all nice and serene. “Are you going to keep perving on me or are you going to jump in?” You tease, not thinking anything of the comment, you’d seen each other in next to nothing before (swimwear, I’m talking about swimwear), why was he being awkward now? After apologising profusely, and changing into his swimming trunks, Chris joins you, with a bottle of prosecco and immediately regrets it. But, you’re not sensing any weird vibes. So, you two catch up for the first time on the trip. You’re both giggling from the drink (his dumbass forgot to get glasses and he’s been thinking about how sharing a bottle is you indirectly kissing, he’s a loser wbk). Somewhere in between the conversation, you notice him looking at your lips, he sits closer to you (claiming he can’t hear you over the bubbles). You knew Chris was cute, but never realised how handsome he was closer up. Chris isn’t sure who made the first move. He does know he never wants to stop kissing you. Who needs oxygen? He’s got his hands on your waist and your fingers are running through his hair. An almighty clatter comes from inside, your friends are back, the spell breaks. Chris is in too much of a love struck daze to stop you leaving (quickly wrapping a towel around yourself and slipping back inside, hiding away in your bedroom). Everyone can feel there’s been a shift in vibes between Chris. But neither of you address it. You carry on as normal. You assumed it was a tipsy mistake. He didn’t actually like you like that. You’re best friends! 

Meanwhile Chris couldn't be more in love with you. Once you’re back home, the regular every day routine takes over, Chris goes back to training, you go back to teaching. You still hang out, text, call, all the time. But there’s something there. Maybe a spark of what could’ve been? Flash forward a couple years and Milan is right around the corner. Chris is fed up with the narrative the press have put him in already. The nicknames, people saying this is his “last chance.” Seeing clips from Olympics past (although he’s never forgotten) nearly has him pulling out of the team at the last minute. Luckily, you’re able to get some time off work to travel with him, although you’ll be staying in separate lodgings. 

Once the snowboarding event gets underway, you’re standing with his family and friends, a news crew comes over to get some insight on Chris’s mental state coming into what’s rumored to be his last games, you’re quick to shut those statements down, leaving the interviewer to awkwardly wrap things up. During qualifications, Chris keeps crashing out (literally), scraping by to get through to competing for a medal. He’s so busy practicing and training that you two aren’t even able to get time together. So one night, after a particularly grueling session in the snow, and more interviewers trying to give him a complex, you and Chris have your first fight. You’ve had disagreements before, but those had more open communication, you heard each other out, and apologised. There was no time for that here. You try your best to reassure him, pleading with him to take care of himself, but he doesn’t want to hear it. Everything comes spilling out in a “you have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under” type of rant, he doesn’t let you get a word in. Before you can try and talk some sense into him, he hangs up and doesn’t respond to any of your texts. (He goes on a walk around the Olympic Village and bumps into Ice Hockey Player!Harry Lewis, who he’s known for ages. By some miracle, Harry’s able to talk Chris off the ledge). Chris phones you back first thing on the morning of the event. You hear each other out. You’re just trying to protect him. He’s trying to prove everyone wrong. Chris begins the event at the bottom of the pile. Thankfully, two huge runs on the half pipe, he’s in the silver medal position. The energy in Livingo is electric. You get to chatting with the other competitors families, hearing their stories, how they started, what this means to them and their country. “How long have you and Chris been together?” one asks. “Oh! We’re not-” An announcement over the loudspeakers silences you all, time for the current snowboarders in podium position to do their final run. Third place puts down a solid run, a missed trick puts them down a couple crucial points. “Representing Great Britain, Chris Dixon!” the crowd goes wild. You’re not even sure if you cheered, too stressed out to make a sound. You just know the commentators are spewing some bullshit, “There was the fall in Sochi, the injury in PyeongChang and the disappointment in Beijing, will Milan finally be the one for Chris Dixon?” “Come on Chris”, you think, “show them all. Prove them wrong.” You know his routine off by heart (when you’d Facetime each other, he’d fall asleep first, mumbling his jumps and rotations). Chris drops in. Switchbackside 1440. Backside double cork 1260. Frontside 1260. Back to back 1440’s. He sticks the landing! Not over or under rotated. Plenty of airtime. You’re still running logistics in your head when Chris appears in front of you. Snowboard and helmet are nowhere to be found. “Chris you did it, your best run, you didn’t miss a trick,” you’re rambling, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Reader,” he puts his hands on your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter.” He’s smiling, but you’re not sure why. “What do you mean? No one’s beating that run!” You reason. Overhead, the last snowboarder drops in, but you can’t tear your eyes from Chris to watch. “I don’t care about winning anymore, I just want you.” You’re stunned silent. But the roar of the crowd allows you to take a glance at the big screen, projecting the athletes' results. “I should’ve been honest when I first started feeling feelings for you, Reader-” “Chris, please-” “No, Reader, hear me out, even if you never want to talk to me again, I need to tell you-” “Chris, I swear to fucking God.” You have to physically turn him around to look at the screen. It takes a second for the gravity of the situation to set in. 

His friends and family are screaming, most are crying, many are jumping around. Chris Dixon, Great Britain, Gold Medal. Oh. Oh. It’s like Chris’s life flashes before his eyes. His first snowboarding lesson. First wipeout. Teaching you how to snowboard. Getting his first board for Christmas. First meeting you. X Games. The first time you stayed over at his. Beijing. Your first kiss. You were intertwined with him. He had just won his first gold medal, and you’re all he can think about? Chris blinks back into reality, he turns around to immediately be pulled into a hug from his family. Even some of his competitors run over to congratulate him on his well overdue gold. You can’t hold back the tears anymore by the time Chris is back in front of you. You pull him into a tight hug. The crowd is deafening, but you’re still able to hear Chris say, “It’s not the adrenaline talking Reader, I really do like you. You mean more to me than any medal, you always have.” If you weren’t crying before, you definitely were now. You feel Chris shift and you two loosen your hold on one another, it’s an official motioning him to follow. 2nd and 3rd place athletes are standing behind them, so you assume it’s to go to the podium. You pull Chris in again, just quickly so you can give him a kiss on the cheek. As you both pull back to face each other, he’s looking even more dazed. “Go get your medal, you’ve earned it. We’ll talk later,” you look him in the eyes, “Promise,” you add. Chris follows the official, reluctantly. Looking back at you every few steps. Smiling bigger than you’d ever seen. 

“And there you have it, Chris Dixon of Great Britain is the new Olympic Gold Medalist in Half Pipe Snowboarding! Congrats Chris, we always believed in you!” 

“Will, you never believed in him. There’s compilations of it on YouTube. You started calling him a Pocket Rocket for Christ sake.” 

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#meadowspeaks - personal stuff #meadowhmmm - fic ideas/thoughts/drabbles #meadowreblogs - usually non fic related reblogs  #meadowrecs - fics i recommend #meadowsfics - all my "writing"

I don't plan on opening my ask box or taking requests, I'll write when I want to lol

What I genuinely won't write about is: dubcon, cnc, intox, sexual assault, pet play, age gaps. I'll update this as I go along.

Masterlist:

Series:

Going for Gold: UKYT as Winter Olympians 

Lights, Camera, Love?: UKYT as Reality Dating Shows

Friends From Work: More Than a Band

Fake Texts:

texting them “they’re busy bro”

texts you’d send if you were secretly dating but getting shipped with another youtuber

texting with them when your "friend(s)" suck