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goldsbitch · 1 year ago

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That one Christmas flight

summary: Y/N and Lando Norris are seated next to each other on a long flight. Innocent little Christmas tradition that Y/N does every year brings them just a little too close.

warnings: fluff, one-shot (whops a lie!), meet cute

Christmas. Y/N felt like an alien walking among people. It was impossible to avoid it. It was present in songs, in decoration, in fashion, online and on the news. Everywhere.

It's not like she was a grinch or anything. Nor was it because of some tragic incident causing trauma. Just pure fatigue from all the logistics and travel connected, which most kids of divorced parents faced every year.

Flying from Japan back to England, from her mother to her father, was a chore that seemed unavoidable. Her mother was kind enough to splurge on first class ticket for her, which her fancy Tokio job allowed. Ever since fours years ago, she continued a tradition that was introduced to her by a fellow Christmas traveller - the most stylish sassy French woman, who often spend the holidays on a plane. She would get herself and who ever was sitting next to her a glass of champagne and chat them up. Y/N has never laughed so much in her life like she did when she met this woman - so she took the tradition as her own.

Lando's plan wasn't to be on a flight from Japan to London on the 24th of December. He had so little time with his family and friends that this secret work trip to the Honda factory was really pushing him into staying with McLaren for the following years and not switching to a different team. This whole situation was like fuel for his current headache.

Y/N second guessed her tradition when a super gorgeous looking boy, who seemed to want anything but to be bothered, was sat next to her. She was used to having older people sitting next to her. Anyway, tradition is a tradition, so she eventually got up to order the classic. She nearly turned back at the thought that this guy was giving off some serious "I'm a dick" vibes, he had barely acknowledged her since she sat down. Luckily, she ignored this feeling.

When a glass of champagne appeared before Lando, he was sure it was a mistake.

"Well, to Christmas," his neighbor toasted. While he thought that she was a rather good looking girl, he was in no mood for a fangirl.

"I'm very sorry, um...I'll be happy to take a photo with you or something, but I am not in the best mood for a interaction with a fan."

She gave him a baffled look.

He continued. "Look, I'll be more than happy to sign anything. Or a photo, just as long you keep between un on which flight you saw me."

Y/N put her glass down, this was a first one.

"First of all, sorry for invading your private time. I have this stupid tradition of having a glass with whomever I'm destined to spend this Christmas flight. Guess I was mistaken. Second of all, I have no fucking idea who you are. So, calm down." She downed half of her glass. Of course this stupid year would include an asshole like this. Oh well.

Lando was confused for a moment and immediately after that he felt like an idiot.

"Apologies," he slowly replied, somewhat baffled. "I thought you were a fan and I'm just not in the mood for that." Y/N rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her champagne. "I'm Lando, by the way."

"Is that a stage name?"

"No, " he laghed. "I think it was a random decision of my mom."

"Interesting. Y/N," she introduced herself, without looking at him.

There was a weird tension in the air. Lando was determined to break it. Y/N was currently casually offended.

"Let me get you another one so that we can have a toast."

"Great, getting drunk is also an option. Hate flying sober," she joked.

Another glass was brought by a smiling flight attendant.

"So, how does this work?" Lando asked. Y/N was a person easily annoyed, however as quickly this came it also ended.

"Fine. There are rules, btw."

"Of course there are."

"Ehm, ehm, " she cleared her throat. "So, this tradition was started by Madame Tatanova and from now on, if you find yourself on a plane on 24th or 25th of December, you need to toast with your fellow neighbor passenger and answer the following: why and for how long-"

"I will have to write this down, I have a memory of a dead chicken."

"-I'm not finished! And then you follow up by your biggest regret and one thing nobody knows. The purpose of this is to gain or pass on wisdom and use the opportunity you'd normally miss by blasting up your headphones." She's done this for four times now, still the introduction was missing the "Madame Tatanova magic". Maybe one day.

"Ok..." Lando was not following yet, but he was keen on doing so. She raised her glasses, as did he.

"Cheers, to Christmas flights."

"Cheers, " he replied and they both sipped their champagne. "Wait, I have a question - what would you do if I did not speak English? Or if I was deaf?"

Lando was being his cheeky self and Y/N was not having it. She answered the question with a look.

"Got it! Anyway...what was the question?"

"Why."

"Why? Why is the sky dark or....?"

"Why are you on this plane."

"I'm trying to get to London from Tokio."

"I swear to god, I will ask to be seated somewhere else, Orlando."

"Lando, actually."

"If you say so..."

"Huuh, I'm going back from a work trip. And since you claim not to know me, I can probably tell you more than I should. Um, imagine I am in a band, right? I'm singing for a band and every few years they change their lead singer, one of the two actually, and I'm a the lead singer who might go to a different band now. But it's not clear yet and super secret actually. So, please keep it to yourself." Lando felt like someone who has just discovered speech and this was the first time he was using it. "Does that make any sort of sense?"

"Sort of I think. So you're cheating on your band?"

"Uhh, I'd say checking out options."

"Remind me never to date guys like you," she joked and immediately regretted that. Y/N was not good at flirting and did not want to appear creepy.

Lando passed on this comment, still not sure if he could trust this girl. "So, what about you? Why?"

"The curse of the divorced parents. One lives in London, the other one in Japan and I'm a package they pass each year," she said rather bitterly.

"Sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. I get to see mom twice a year and it's all always so planned and predictable. I would kill for spontaneity."

"Take me with you next time, I'm sure she'll be surprised." "Yes, she is a big fan of British guys, that's why she divorced one!"

"Great, happy to follow that route!"

Y/N started to relax a bit. This could be good, actually. "Ok, so now. For long are you staying in London, Lando?"

"Only few weeks. Then our music season starts. "

"Yeah, the one with all the singing, of course."

"Yeeah."

Y/N laughed a bit. He was suprisingly easy to talk to.

"So, how long?"

"A week. Then I'm off to Bologna."

"Uuuh, fancy that!"

"Yeah, I'm studying history there."

"Bologna is the one with the old university?" he asked, pretending he has never heard of that.

"No, not really, they just opened. Last year we did not have chairs, because the shipment got delayed," she replied with a dry tone.

"One does always study better while standing. I believe it was Socrates, who said it."

"Oh, yes. They teach you this at the singing music school?"

"Exactly. We were never allowed to sit."

They continued to chat all the way through the airplane dinner, getting few more glasses of champagne during that. Their laughter was interrupted by a flight attendant, who acted on a complaint from a fellow passenger. They both fell asleep watching a movie. Y/N woke up few times in the night and observed the boy next to her. Knowing this was the best Christmas plane encounter she ever had. Lando woke up as well, feeling strangely happy about the fact she was resting her head on his shoulder.

"Wait." Lando stopped her at the entrance to customs hall and pulled them both behind a column, so that they could not be seem by bystanders.

"Yes?" she turned to him.

"This might be weird, but can I kiss you?" Y/N looked at the boy in a hoodie standing in front of her, cheeky guy suddenly appearing nervous. He was absolutely gorgeous. She hated the fact he was random guy on a plane to London and not to Bologna.

"Yes. Must be midnight somewhere. So it could be like a New Years thing."

"Yeah. Just an airport thing." With that he kissed her. Just two young people having a little moment of silence. His kiss was a light slow brush on the lips. He cupped her cheek and her hand brushed through his curly hair. First kiss usually does not take long. For a person passing by, this would appear like kiss these two shared a thousand times before.

When they eventually parted, it all seemed a bit surreal.

"We never got to the second part of your Christmas interview," Lando commented.

"Well. Let's say that the one thing nobody knows is that I just kissed a random guy from the plane. And that my biggest regret is that we will never see each other again." For the first time, she was this bluntly honest with somebody who had just kissed her for the first time. It felt intoxicating.

Lando smiled. "See, I knew we had something in common."

Lando was usually not so open with his crushes, if he could even put her in that category.

"Don't worry. I won't search for you online or anything. I want to keep the mystery of Lando alive."

He kissed her once more, before they parted.

Their hearts felt a little more heavier than usual on midnight that New Years Eve. Both standing surrounded by their favorite people, yet with the one they would wish to kiss being impossibly far away.

part 2

_________________________

@superlegend216

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris angst #meet cute #fluff #lando norris fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 fanfic #oneshot fanfiction #ln4 x reader #That one Christmas flight

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fictiongods · 6 months ago

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You meet a girl. She’s traveled across states just to meet you. She makes a show of it too, she makes sure you know she’s there before ever introducing herself. She tries to get along with your friends. Your mom. Your kinda dad. And even your sister, when you later remember.

She tells you stories that you know are fake to sound cool, but you won’t challenge her on them. You guys don’t hit it off right away, but there’s something there. You and her are intertwined. Connected. She gets through something, it pushes you to do the same. You don’t know why. The universe didn’t want it, you barely want it. But there the girl is anyways, and there you are.

You start going out at night. It’s dark, emotions and adrenaline are high, and she’s saying all these things, these things that you definitely can’t think about to hard. Your friends think you have a boyfriend. You say she’s not really, but you are going out tonight together. You guys do that a lot.

But then she sees you with a guy. She’s angry. She feels cheated. Dumped. You didn’t owe anything to her, but you apologize anyways. You go down and say you’re on her side. That she can trust you, because you care. She doesn’t buy it.

You invite her to Christmas, she lights up brighter than the damn tree when you open your door, and you guys are good again. Bump in the road, but you’re fine. You guys start really hanging out. She makes sure you know that you and her are special. Different, somehow. No one else is like you guys. The chosen two. She says you’re better. She believes that makes her better too. She comes to your class and draws a heart, and you not only skip that class, but you skip a very important test that you were panicked about earlier. But…she’s here now. What can you do? She wants you to let loose. She wants you to lean into your temptations, into your urges. You do it. She keeps throwing her arm around you for some reason. That didn’t have anything to do with your urges, but you notice that. You rush into things because she did. You steal because she told you to. You take what you want because she did. You get caught together, and are arrested. But it’s fine, because you’re with her and together you got out of it. You start to believe that it really is her and you. Just the chosen two.

Then she gets into trouble. She accidentally kills someone. You were with her. She completely shuts you out afterwards. You are left to think after all this time of her saying you guys are connected, that she doesn’t care about you. You are left to believe that maybe she never did. She pins that murder on you. But she’s your friend. You won’t give up on her.

From what you learn, she tries to hurt your friend. The one you’ve known for a decent amount of time before her. A friend you love. But still, you refuse to give up on her. You get your boyfriend to try and help her. He makes it worse. She runs away to hide.

You find her. You call her your friend, but she seems upset by that. You don’t know why. She tells you you’re the same. But…you’re not her. You can’t be. She likes violence. She likes to be overly sexual. She wants stuff you would never want. You punch her in the face. She smiles at you. With pride and bravado, she calls you her girl. You get attacked again by threats the world believes you and only her were destined to stop. You save her. She saves you. You again, reinforce the fact that you will not give up on her. Everyone else has. Your best friends, your kinda dad. You can’t tell your mom about her, she doesn’t really understand, and your sister, well, she’s too young for stuff like that.

You thought you saved her. You thought you helped her. You thought it was her and you again. The chosen two. But she betrayed everyone. She betrayed you. You plan. She thinks she brings your worst fear back. He was too good at being that fear. You learn how angry shes been. How lonely. How sad. How jealous of you she’s been. It doesn’t change anything. You give her a little of that betrayal back. A little of that trickery. She kisses you on the forehead. You’ll later give one back.

She’s turned. The one girl in all the world like you, and she’s turned against you. She’s decided to work with the enemy. You steal her knife. What was hers is yours. She tries to kill your boyfriend. She’s never liked him. You’ve never known why. She tried to sleep with him. She knows it would be the closest she’d ever get to being with you. She tried to do this before. She asked you about it. Only she knew you didn’t get it anyways. That was the problem. You never did.

You guys fight to the death so you could save him. You try and kill her with that knife you stole. Before she makes a scar, before she leaves you, she smiles. You’ve become her. Everything she wants.

She comes to you in a dream. Hers, or yours? it doesn’t matter. What’s her is you after all. It’s so soft there. She’s smiling, you’re smiling, but you don’t really understand, because it’s so violent out there. She cups your cheek, as tender as she’s ever been, and you awake.

You press your lips to her in the spot she once did for you, and now you understand. You are like her. That kiss is recognition. A thank you. A silent confession. She never knows. You never tell her.

You move on. You get a boyfriend. He doesn’t get you, not like she did. She wakes up. You know what she did. How she hurt you. Your friends hate her still, and you…can’t. You defend her.

You try to find her again. You do. Shes mad again. She hates your boyfriend. She’s bitter. She’s telling you about the dreams she’s had. You were there.

You’ve had dreams too. They were always so soft. Even when mixed with violence, it was soft there with her.

Only that delicacy doesn’t extend in the real world, only in your bubble. She ties up your mom. You hope your sister wasn’t home. You miss it, but she talks to your mom. She says how mad she is at you. How hurt she is. How she feels she got dumped by you. You stop her and save your mom, and you fight again.

You tell her you don’t think about her. That you’ve forgotten her, just like she thinks. But in truth, you can’t stop thinking about her. She haunts you. In your thoughts, in your actions, in your words, she’s there. Because, everything that is her is you too, right?

She steals your body. You have hers now. What was yours may now be permanently hers. Your friends can’t tell it’s her. She fools your mom, your friends, your sister, and your kinda dad. She fools your boyfriend. She sleeps with him. She tries to be close to you again through him.

You find her again. She’s crying then. She’s hitting you in her body. She speaks words of destruction and detestation. She speaks words that will be yours in a time to come. You don’t know if she knows if it’s her or you. Maybe she fooled herself as well. She leaves your body and you leave hers. You feel what she felt. You clutch…your heart? Her heart? You try and hold it close. You try and tear it out.

She runs again. She’s gone, you’ve lost her again. You hate her for that. You miss her for that. You loath her for that. She’s the mirror of who you were. She’s the mirror of the you you might have been. She’s your mirror. It’s shattered, it’s broken, and it’s you.

She comes back after years of departure. You’re still bitter. She’s cracking jokes. She’s learned. She’s reformed. And you? You wonder if that’s true. You fight to the end of the world with her. This time, she’s on your side. She listens to you. She follows you. Everything she’s done is because you told her to. She did what she’s always wanted for you, and when you got hurt she said she’s never wanted it.

You find a weapon that’s yours. You can feel it in your bones it’s yours. You take it to battle. You save the world in that battle, and you hand that weapon to her in moments you believe to be your last. She can take it because, what’s yours was always hers too.

Do you get it now? It is a love story, and it always was.

#IT FEELS LIKE ITS MINE. I GUESS THAT MEANS ITS YOURS.#strap in everyone it’s ramble fuffy hours #i hope i did them justice #did I go on and on? yeah. do i regret it even slightly? not at all.#do I feel slightly sick and ill and gut punched by them? perhaps.#guys…this is over a thousand words someone send help they won’t get out #buffy summers #fuffy #faith lehane #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer

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daniiiboo · 1 month ago

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day 9 - holiday travel - cb98

summary - Youre heading to connor's family home for christmas, and the travel is long and stressful. But connor is there to keep you calm and entertained through every delay.

trigger warnings - reader is stressed about traveling, traffic !!!!

dani's thoughts - this is so cutesy !!!! pookie connor <3

word count - 497

find the rest of my 12 days of chrismas here !

The road stretched endlessly ahead, blanketed in a soft layer of snow. It was beautiful, but after hours in the car, the charm of the winter landscape had long worn off. You shifted in your seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, and glanced over at Connor, who was focused on the road. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely, and the soft hum of holiday music played in the background.

“How much longer?” you asked, your voice filled with fatigue.

Connor shot you a sympathetic smile.

“GPS says another two hours, but with this snow… could be a bit more.”

You groaned, leaning your head against the cold window.

“Remind me again why we didn’t fly?”

“Because somebody,” he teased, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “said they wanted to experience a ‘classic road trip.’”

You couldn’t help but laugh despite your frustration.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t account for holiday traffic or winter storms.”

Connor chuckled, his laughter warm and comforting.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

He reached over and squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. The simple gesture calmed you instantly, a reminder that no matter how stressful the trip was, you were in this together.

To lighten the mood, Connor started telling stories from past family Christmases, like the time his dog knocked over the Christmas tree or when his little sister opened every present under the tree before anyone else woke up. His laughter was contagious, and soon you were giggling along with him, the tension of the journey melting away.

When traffic came to a standstill an hour later, Connor didn’t miss a beat. He pulled out a bag of snacks from the back seat and offered you your favorite candy.

“Think of this as a pit stop,” he said with a wink. “Minus the actual stopping part.”

You rolled your eyes but accepted the candy, grateful for his optimism.

As the hours ticked by, Connor kept you entertained. He sang (terribly) to Christmas carols, challenged you to games like “I Spy,” and even made up ridiculous scenarios about the lives of the other travelers stuck in traffic with you.

By the time you finally pulled into his parents’ driveway, the exhaustion of the day was forgotten. The house was lit up with twinkling lights, and the warm glow from the windows made it feel like stepping into a Christmas card.

Connor turned to you, his blue eyes soft.

“Ready?”

You nodded, but before you could get out of the car, he leaned over and kissed you gently. It was a quiet, tender moment, the kind that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Thanks for putting up with the world’s longest trip,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks for making it bearable,” you replied, your voice full of affection.

As you walked hand in hand toward the house, you realized that it didn’t matter how long or stressful the journey was. As long as Connor was with you, the destination was always worth it.

#dani writes ᡣ𐭩 #dani's 12 days of christmas !#connor bedard x reader #connor bedard x you #Chicago Blackhawks x reader

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travelingare · 2 months ago

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📍Brussels Belgium 🇧🇪

Christmas magic in Bruges, Belgium!

Bruges transforms into a winter wonderland during the holidays, with sparkling lights, charming Christmas markets, and the incredible scent of waffles and mulled wine in the air.

Here’s how to make the most of your festive visit:

🎄Market Strolls: Visit the iconic

stalls at Grote Markt for delicious treats and Simon Stevinplein for artisanal crafts.

🍫Belgian Chocolate Heaven: Don’t miss local gems like The Chocolate Line for some of the best chocolates in town.

⛸Ice Skating Fun: Head to Minnewater Park for a magical skating experience, surrounded by a winter wonderland.

✨ Winter Glow: Explore the enchanting light installations across the city from November 22, 2024, to January 5, 2025.

🧇Waffle Delight: Indulge in Bruges’

signature waffles - crispy, golden, and full of flavor.

Bruges is the perfect destination to experience Christmas vibes like nowhere else! Who would you visit this fairytale city with?😍

@takemyhearteverywhere

@travellingthroughtheworld

#travel #travelingare #brussels #belgium #christmasmagic #beautydestination

#lifestyle #myuploads #aesthetic #travel #travelingare #photography #architecture #drone photography #brussels #belgium #christmas #beautiful destinations

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 1 month ago

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The Yule Lodge - Part One

A PEDROSTORIES SECRET SANTA GIFT FIC

A/N: As always, a big thank you to the moderators of @pedrostories for organizing this event! It's always a lot of fun and definitely helps put me in the holiday spirit every year. I can't wait to see what others have created for this event! This story kind of completely ran away from me, so as you can see, this is only the beginning. I hope my fic recipient doesn't mind, but it's looking like a three part story, which I'm aiming to get the rest of posted within the next few days. Now, if you'll all suspend disbelief with me, there's a very exclusive, high-end Bed & Breakfast I'd like you all to visit...

Gift Tag: SURPRISE @covetyou ! I was your Secret Santa for the Pedrostories gift swap! You gave me so many great prompts and ideas to run with, but the ones that stuck out most to me were "Magic is real" and "chaotic meet cute". Out of the characters that you listed, Ezra and Dieter seemed like likely candidates, and that's where my top secret anonymous ask where I made you choose emojis with no context came into play. You (blindly) choose Dieter, and I am so glad that you did because I have been having a blast writing this for you and I truly hope that you enjoy it! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, the happiest of holiday seasons and only the best in the New Year, lovely!!

Warnings: brief mention of infidelity (not Dieter or Reader!) cannabis consumption, I think that's it for now ;)

Word Count: 5,416

Summary: Last minute holiday travel plans sure can be chaotic sometimes. In some cases, it can even seem as though there is some kind of supernatural intervention going on. But that's crazy... Right?

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Wherever the fuck here is.

As the cab pulled up to its destination, Dieter rolled his forehead against the rear passenger side window to get a better view of the place, ignoring the way that the chill from the glass sunk into his skin. His eyes narrowed, then blinked wide as he took in the Dickensian looking Bed and Breakfast.

Well it’s sure as shit not the Savoy.

That was where he was supposed to be staying. That was where he had asked Cori, his assistant, to book him a suite from the 23rd to the 26th. That was where he had been planning to spend his Christmas, sprawled in a king sized bed wearing baggy pajama pants, devouring snowflake shaped THC infused sugar cookies, watching old movies and ordering room service until the holiday was good and over. Just like he’d done almost every year for the previous two decades.

And to her credit, Cori had booked him that suite. She’d done it months ago, when she made the travel arrangements for the press tour that had brought him to London in the first place. He was there to promote Getaway Man - the must see action-thriller that was set to open worldwide on Christmas Day, and that was already receiving Oscar buzz - with two of his co-stars. They had both gone straight to the airport following the final round of interviews, though, anxious and eager to get back home in time for holiday celebrations with their families. But Dieter had planned to do just the opposite from the get go, so all he had to do was check out of one hotel, travel a few blocks, and check into another one. Cori had sent him receipts along with his itinerary, and his stay at the Savoy had been on both of them.

It wasn’t a booking issue that caused the last minute switcharoo. Or, rather, it wasn’t an issue with the room that Dieter had booked. It actually had to do with another guest’s reservation - his ex-wife’s. Or, rather (again), it had to do with a reservation made by Anika’s new husband, fellow actor Mark Atlas.

And people say my last name is bullshit.

Anyway, apparently Mark found out that Dieter was going to be staying at the Savoy while he and Anika were also going to be there, and promptly threw a Hollywood sized hissy fit about the “optics” of the three of them spending Christmas under the same roof. Something about “not wanting to put Anika through the ordeal of being around Dieter.” As though he was the one who had shocked her by asking for the divorce.

As though I was the one who cheated.

It was far more likely that Map Man was worried about his sweet, innocent wife “accidentally” bumping into Dieter under the mistletoe in the middle of the night, than he was about putting her through anything.

And for the record, even if she had tumbled into Dieter’s lap wearing nothing but a couple of strategically placed Christmas ribbons, he wouldn’t have done a damn thing about it. He wasn’t like Mark. He didn’t need - or want - to fuck someone else’s wife.

No. This had nothing to do with Atlas looking out for Anika, and Dieter knew it. This was about Hollywood’s new favorite golden boy snapping his fingers and getting what he wanted at Dieter’s expense. Dieter’s body of work since the Cliff Beasts fiasco may have been award worthy, his performances lauded by critics and fans alike. But Mark Atlas had just signed on to a six movie deal in a superhero franchise that already had comic cons selling out despite the fact that he hadn’t been announced to the panel yet. The first film in the series hadn’t even been released but McDonald’s already had the fucking action figures in their goddamn happy meals.

In short, Atlas was the bigger, shinier, more family friendly name at the moment. And in show business, the moment was all that mattered.

So even though Dieter had checked into his room at the Savoy earlier that day without issue, and despite the fact that he’d already changed into his baggiest pair of pajama pants and shaggy green robe, the call from the front desk still came. It wasn’t a demand that he leave. It wasn’t even really a suggestion. The manager had simply stated that another guest expressed concern over the “possibility of a negative encounter with Dieter”, and asked if he would like to cancel his stay for a full refund, plus a complimentary three night stay at a time of his choosing.

Good to know I��m still shiny enough that they didn’t want to piss me off entirely.

He didn’t need to bother asking the manager which guest had expressed that particular concern. There was only one person Dieter could think of who both held that kind of sway, and disliked him enough to purposely derail his holiday. He knew it was Mark.

Even though I have no idea why that fucker hates me so damn much. He fucking won.

Though the thought of spitefully refusing to leave just to screw with Atlas was tempting, Dieter just wasn’t in the mood for a big dramatic debacle. And even though it hurt to know that Anika was seemingly fine with Mark’s treatment of him, he didn’t want to give in and invite the negative encounter that Mark was setting him up for.

Instead, he told the manager that he’d check out as soon as he found a new hotel, and took the man up on the offer for a future stay. He then promptly texted Cori to fill her in on everything and crossed his fingers in hopes that she had some secret backup options up her sleeve. The fact that it was mere hours away from Christmas Eve in one of the world’s busiest cities made it a tall order, and he was aware of that. But Cori had proven time and time again that tall orders were her specialty, so Dieter was cautiously hopeful.

When his phone rang in his hand a few minutes later, he ceased his pacing to answer it.

“Cori?” He plopped down on the edge of the bed as he spoke, hardly holding back a groan at how goddamn comfortable the mattress was. Can’t believe I don’t even get to sleep on it. “Please tell me you found something else.” He flopped all the way back, sinking into the down-filled duvet. Oh, fuck you, Mark. “I really don’t want to have to come back to-“

“Actually,” an unfamiliar female voice cut him off. “My name is Ivy, Mr. Bravo. I work for Cori. She asked me to handle finding you a new place to stay since she flew home yesterday to be at her son’s-“

“School holiday show.” Dieter mumbled, covering his eyes and scrubbing his hand back over his forehead and into his hair. Fuck, I knew that. “Yeah, that’s right, she told me.”

It had come up a few times as the press tour was winding down, the woman clearly looking forward to being able to be there for her kid’s performance. Though that kind of life was about as far from his own as he could imagine, Dieter admired the way that Cori prioritized being present for her kids as much as possible. He knew that being with her family made her happy, so he was glad that that’s where she was. But wait…

“Hang on.” Dieter propped himself up on one elbow. “I didn’t know Cori had anyone working for her.” She’d been his assistant for over ten years, and he never once heard her mention the name Ivy. Not that she wouldn’t need help. I’m not always the easiest.

She let out a silver-bell laugh, the sound high and tingling. “Well that’s because I’m good at what I do, and so is Cori. Usually I get to stay behind the scenes, but this was a-”

“A clusterfuck?” Dieter supplied, slumping back down again.

“I was going to say a special case.” She laughed again. “Trust me, I’ve seen fuckier clusters.”

He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not, nor was he sure if it actually did. Switching the phone to speaker and laying it on his chest, he crossed both arms over his eyes. “Does that mean you have a backup place for me?” He crossed his fingers as he waited for her response.

“It does, Mr. Bravo, I-”

“You can just call me Dieter, Ivy. Actually, please just call me Dieter. And-” Her words clicked then, and he bolted up to both elbows, sending his phone sliding down to his stomach. “Wait, did you say yes?”

“I did,” Ivy confirmed. Fuck yeah! “But it’s a little unconventional.”

Dieter sat all the way up, reaching for his phone before it could fall between his legs and down to the floor. Lifting it level with his mouth, he cocked his head to the side. “What does that mean?”

Ivy cleared her throat. “It’s not a hotel, per say.” Okay… “More like a high end, exclusive bed and breakfast. And technically it’s just outside the city.”

Dieter grimaced, clunking the edge of his phone to his forehead. A bed and breakfast? Like… With other people? And shared common rooms and… He considered his other option - flying back to L.A. and going home to his empty house - and the grimace deepened. “How exclusive is exclusive?”

“Pretty private. The place is an old Victorian mansion. It accommodates guests in four suites, but I was told that only one other room is booked at the moment.”

He sighed, bringing his phone back down to his lips. I guess this is the best I can hope for. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ivy questioned. “Does that mean I should go ahead and call them?”

Dieter dropped his phone into the fluffy bedding beside him. “Yes. Please.” He stood, rubbing at one eye. “And can you also call me a car? I don’t-”

“Of course,” she answered. “Consider it done.”

“Great.” It was far from great, but it would have to do. “I really appreciate it, Ivy.” That part was 100% true.

“My pleasure! I’ll go ahead and communicate with the Savoy staff, too, that way everyone is on the same page. Oh, and I’ll update Cori, of course.”

“Perfect.” Again, it wasn’t. Perfect was the thread count of the sheets he was leaving behind. Perfect was the five-star service he wouldn’t be receiving. Perfect was the way the champagne chiller always had ice in it and the towels were always warm and fluffy. But it beats the shit out of going home. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Hopefully you won’t need me again, so I’ll wish you a Merry Christmas now.”

“Um, yeah.” Dieter sniffed. “Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ll uh…” He raised his arms and then dropped them to his sides. “I’ll try not to offend the other guest with my presence so I won’t have to bother you again.”

“Never a bother, Dieter. I’m always happy to help when you need it.”

With that, she ended the call, and Dieter was left to gather his things and wait for the car to come pick him up and bring him to the secret, backup, break-in-case-of-clusterfuck location that Ivy had procured for him.

Looking up at the place once he arrived and got out of the car, Dieter really wished he’d asked her a few more questions before telling her to make the call.

Snowflakes fell slowly through the air as he stood there in his pajama pants with his thick, plush brown fleece pulled over his robe and his bag slung over his shoulder, staring at the sign affixed to the side of the building. “The Yule Lodge”, he read aloud, rolling his eyes at the stylized flame surrounding the name of the B&B, an obvious play on words. “Shit, that’s cheesy.”

The building itself looked as though it only existed at Christmastime - the cornices catching the fresh snow in picture perfect banks, the candles illuminating the windows like something off a holiday card, garlands of greenery wrapped around the porch railing and draped over the doorway. So if any place was going to have a name that stunk of cheddar, he figured this was the one. I mean… He tilted his head to take the sight in. It’s festive as fuck, that’s for sure.

Not that that part mattered. He still planned to spend the next few days sprawled out like a starfish in bed, waiting out the holiday. Even if it means doing it here.

He turned to wave a thanks to the driver who had dropped him off, only to find that the car was gone. Huh? That’s weird, I didn’t hear the tires… He shrugged. Whatever. He’d already had one of the snowflake cookies before the whole Mark Atlas shitstorm started, so he chalked missing the car driving away up to that kicking in and giving him tunnel vision for the building’s campy signage.

With a sigh that turned into a visible white puff in the chilly air, Dieter climbed the two small steps and reached for the door handle. Alright. Here we go. Combing one hand through his hair, he shook the snow from his curls, stepped inside, and looked around. Oh, holy shit.

The B&B’s cheery exterior had nothing on the inside.

Wreaths, garlands, and sprigs of greenery adorned walls, windows, railings and the carved, wooden mantel of a roaring fireplace that spread a warm, golden glow throughout the whole space. Deep red velvet ribbons added lush pops of color, as did the gilded candlesticks atop the mantel. A bowl of clove-studded oranges sat as the centerpiece of the coffee table in front of the fire, and the smell of spice and citrus wafted through the air to fully warm his senses.

To top it all off, a towering spruce tree stood in the corner of the room, lit by dozens of lights that were made to look like candles. Bows and baubles dressed the evergreen’s branches to elegant but cozy perfection. In a way, it was difficult to imagine what the room would look like - or feel like - without all the holiday decorations.

He may have been trying to avoid acknowledging Christmas as much as possible, but Dieter couldn’t help but admit that the staff there had outdone themselves. It was fucking beautiful. If you’re into that kinda thing.

“Welcome to the Yule Lodge, Mr. Bravo.”

Suddenly, a voice greeted him from somewhere to his left, making him jump and turn towards the sound. What? Who said tha- Oh. He’d been too distracted by the elaborate decorations to realize that he’d walked straight past the front desk and the smiling woman standing behind it. Right. I need to check in.

Clearing his throat, he crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. “Um, thanks-” He glanced down at the golden nameplate that was pinned to the woman’s green cardigan. “-Laurel.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder and leaned on the counter. “I guess you spoke with Ivy?”

Laurel nodded, her curls bouncing. “I did. We’ve got you all set in room two until the 26th.”

“Great.” He flashed her a smile. “Do you need a credit card now, or do I just pay when I check out, or-”

Laurel’s curls swung as she shook her head. “No need for that right now, Mr. Bravo.”

At check out, then. “Okay.” He tapped the countertop with his fingertips. “In that case, can I get the room key? I’m about ready to-”

“Of course!” Laurel spun around to grab a key from one of four hooks, one of which was empty. Guess that means the other guest is already checked in. She spun back, key in hand, but stopped short of passing it to Dieter. “I just need to go over a few things with you about the Lodge first.”

Dieter felt his shoulders slump. I’m being punished. I just want to get stoned and sleep and I’m being fucking punished. “Uh…Okay.” He sighed. “What, um… What do I need to know?”

Laurel launched into a run down of the Yule Lodge’s rules and amenities. Fully stocked kitchen and bar, chef-prepared meals for breakfast and dinner, fireplaces in the parlor, library and… something to do with the candles in the windows? She was saying something about a small holly wreath while holding it up with his key when Dieter’s attention was stolen completely by the creak of the stairs just visible beyond the parlor, and the stunning woman who was descending them - you.

Huh. He blinked, watching the way your hand slid down the railing as you took the last few steps. Maybe it won’t be all bad, staying here. You looked up then, making quick, unintentional eye contact, and Dieter felt himself grin at the way your eyes widened when they met his, your mouth falling open in slight shock. Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, and then you quickly slipped into another room. The library, maybe?

But just when he had convinced himself to go throw his stuff upstairs and then come back down to see if you were still there - and maybe ask if you wanted to have a drink with him - he saw you slip back up the stairs with a book in hand, and his grin fell into a frown. Oh, well. Guess I’ll stick to the plan.

By then, thankfully, Laurel was finished with her spiel, and she finally handed over the key, along with the small holly wreath. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Bravo. I hope it’s exactly what you need it to be.”

I have no idea what that means but… “Thanks.” He smiled, nodding as he took the key from her. “Have a good night, Laurel.”

With that, he headed upstairs to his room, where he promptly tossed the key and the little wreath onto the dresser, shucked his coat off, and collapsed into the bed with a groan. It wasn’t the plush, pillowy cloud bed he was supposed to be sleeping in, but for the next few days it would do just fine. And who knows? Your face popped into his head. Maybe I won’t spend the whole time holed up in here after all.

– – –

You weren’t supposed to be here.

And I’m not even sure I understand why or how I am but…

You rolled over in the big, soft bed and gazed out the window as flurries fell outside. The picturesque grounds were covered in a thin white blanket of fresh snow, and the glow from the lamppost along with the flicker of the candle on the windowsill threw golden halos of light against the darkness in a way that warmed you through.

I’m really glad that I am.

Traveling solo was somewhat out of character for you. Doing it at Christmas - and missing your family’s annual holiday party - made that even more true. Add in the last minute nature of the trip, and it was no wonder that your parents and siblings (and probably your nosey aunt and cousins, too) were having a hard time accepting your decision to spend Christmas abroad by yourself. It simply wasn’t like you.

Which was, of course, the whole point. You wanted a change, had been looking for a way to shake things up. It wasn’t that you were unhappy with anything in your life. You had a job that you enjoyed and that paid you well, owned a house that you had turned into a home, and had a close group of friends who you knew would be there for you no matter what. But what you wanted, or maybe what you needed, was a little adventure. A measured dose of the unknown. A play from out of left field.

Because even though you were happy with the things that you had, there was a part of you that felt like you only had most of those things because you followed some predetermined script for your life. Graduate from a good school, get a respectable job, buy and maintain a home… It was all good stuff, and you took none of it for granted. But sometimes it felt a little too similar to the board game version of Life, spinning the wheel and plopping your little plastic car along the path, collecting socially acceptable experiences along the way.

Even the last few vacations you took weren’t really vacations. You’d had to travel for three separate destination weddings in the last year and a half. And then there was the trip your grandma surprised the whole family with, which was extremely nice, but was also extremely mandatory. So not only did you not get to choose the when or where of your last four trips, you didn’t have much say in the what to do part, either.

You deserved to do something unexpected and just for you. So when you got the unexpected news that you’d won an all expense paid trip to London to spend Christmas in a quaint, Victorian-style B&B, you chose to act on it.

I don’t even remember entering the contest, but… You glanced around the room and ran your hands over the quilted comforter. But I’m here. It’s real. So I must have.

You thought back to the voicemail you’d received a few weeks prior, and how you almost deleted it without calling back to follow up. It seemed like a scam. And even if it wasn’t, you were sure that there was no way it could actually be free. You figured it had to do with a timeshare or some marketing promo where you could win a free trip after spending a crazy amount of money on rental cars or luggage. But a curious little voice from the back of your brain piped up and told you to at least Google the phone number first.

And when you did that, and it didn’t link you to numerous Reddit posts about scam callers or direct you to a clearly phony website, but instead brought you to a completely legitimate page hosted by the site where you had booked your most recent flight for your friend’s wedding in Puerto Vallarta, displaying your name and stating that all you had to do was call to claim your prize, you allowed yourself to possibly entertain the notion that maybe it wasn’t too good to be true.

You were still cautiously skeptical when you pressed call and waited while the phone rang, still expecting there to be a catch somewhere. You also expected the number you dialed would be an automated one, and that you would just be pressing buttons when prompted to complete the process. So it was a surprise to you when a very human voice greeted you after the second ring.

“Thank you for calling Spirit Travel!” The woman on the other end spoke in a bright, cheerful tone as she introduced herself and then said your name, making sure she was speaking with the correct person. You were so taken aback by the fact that you were wrong about it being a recording that you completely missed her name, but you caught back up in time to confirm that you were in fact you.

“I, um… I’m a little confused, to be honest,” you immediately confessed, shrugging as though she could see the lift of your shoulders through the phone. Shaking your head, you went on. “I don’t think I entered any contests, and I definitely don’t think I’ve ever heard of the-” You double checked the name of the place that the website had listed as your prize. “The Yule Lodge? Is it like a Christmas themed hotel or something?”

The woman let out a small, jingling laugh. “You could say that. Christmastime is when the Lodge is at its best, that’s for sure.” That didn’t quite answer your question, but she continued. “And it’s a very small, boutique-y little place. Doesn’t draw a ton of tourist attention, so I’m not surprised that you haven’t heard of it. But I assure you it is absolutely lovely.”

“Oh…kay.” You stared at your laptop screen, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the scrolling congratulations banner. “I still don’t remember entering a contest, though.”

“Oh, that part!” You heard what sounded like keystrokes from her end of the call, and figured that she was pulling up some information on a computer. “Yup, mmhmm. It’s right here.” Before you could ask her what was right where, she filled you in. “I’m emailing a screenshot of it to you right now so you can see it, too, but when you booked your trip to Mexico in September, you checked a box entering you in Spirit Travel sponsored giveaways. It’s all perfectly legitimate, I promise!”

A few seconds later you received her email, opening it and seeing for yourself that you had in fact checked that box. Hm. Must’ve been a mistake. I usually opt out of that crap. You shrugged. But maybe I’ll stop doing that now. Finally sufficiently happy with the proof that the trip was real and that it wasn’t a hoax, you cleared your throat. “Okay, so it’s… It’s really free? Airfare, the hotel, all of it?”

“Well, just to be clear, the Yule Lodge isn’t a hotel, per say. More like a very exclusive, high end bed and breakfast.”

Sure. Semantics, whatever. “Okay, fine. Airfare, the B&B? That’s all free?”

“Yup! We’ll even arrange a car to pick you up from the airport and drive you to the Lodge. All you have to do is say yes and then show up for your flight.” She paused. “So is that a yes?”

You chewed your bottom lip, going back and forth in a span of a few seconds. What will everyone think when I’m not there on Christmas? What will my friends say when I tell them? They’ll probably think I’m nuts or something. But then that same voice that told you to call about the trip spoke up again. Who cares? It asked. Do it for yourself. And that was all it took to answer.

“It’s a yes,” you said, excitement making you sound a little giddy. I can’t believe it, but… “Yeah, I’m in.”

She went over a few more details with you regarding dates - December 23rd to the 26th - and flight times, and then let you know that if you had any more questions you could always call her back and she’d happily answer them.

“Thank you, really, this is… I really needed this, so thanks-” You realized you never got her name after missing it initially. “I’m so sorry, what was your name again?”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” she assured you. “I get it, you were excited. Happens all the time.” She chuckled. “But my name is Ivy.”

“Well, thank you, Ivy. You’re pretty much my favorite person right now.”

She laughed again. “I’ll take it! Listen, like I said, you can call me if you have any other questions about the trip. But otherwise, in case we don’t talk again, I hope you have a very Merry Christmas.”

“You, too! I hope you get a surprise this good in your stocking this year.”

“Oh,” she said in a wistful way that actually didn’t sound like a customer service put-on, “For me, making other people’s holidays special is the real gift.”

With that, she signed off, and you were left with the task of telling everyone you knew that you were pitching them all a holiday curveball.

They’d responded similarly to how you thought they would. But by the time you had checked in to the Yule Lodge, met Laurel, the exceptionally festive and cheerful hostess who had given you the quirkiest run-down on a hotel you’d ever gotten (including a somewhat campy but cute enough folklore-inspired instruction to place the small holly wreath she’d given you at check in around your door knob to “keep out unwanted spirits” on Christmas Eve) and settled into your room, it was far too late to worry about all of that.

All you were concerned with for the next few days was which fireplace you’d be spending the most amount of time reading near, whether or not you felt like strolling the snow covered grounds in the morning, and possibly chatting with the other guest that Laurel had mentioned would be checking in shortly after you’d arrived. Or maybe not. Who knows, maybe they��ll want to be left alone. Either way, you were looking forward to a few days of answering to no one but yourself. And if it came with a heaping helping of authentic Christmas cheer? Even better.

Deciding not to wait until morning to venture downstairs and into the library to choose your first of hopefully many books for the duration, you popped up from your bed and headed for the door, smiling to yourself as you made sure that the holly wreath was securely around the knob. Don’t want any bad spirits messing around in my room. About halfway down the stairs, you heard voices and realized that Laurel was giving her welcome speech to the other guest. Oh, guess they’re here. You peeked through the hall and into the parlor, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person you’d be sharing the common areas of the Lodge with. But as was becoming a theme for this trip and everything connected to it, you were floored to find Academy Award winning actor Dieter Bravo looking right at you.

Holy shit. You felt your eyes go about as round as the baubles hanging from the giant spruce tree, your mouth dropping open as your heart thundered in your chest. Holy shit, holy shit that’s Dieter Bravo. Oh my god. No, it’s not. It can’t be, right? You blinked and he was still there and still definitely Dieter Bravo and - wait is he..? Yup. He was grinning at you. Oh, fuck.

You scurried down the last few stairs and disappeared into the library, repeating those two words over in your head in a series of tones ranging from disbelief and shock to disbelief and excitement, with a twinge of nerves because Oh, fuck, what am I supposed to say to Dieter Bravo? Your face flushed making you warmer than the fireplace on the other side of the room. There was plenty that you’d thought about saying to him, your imagination running a little wild at times when you saw interviews or red carpet photos of him, or when you saw his performances on screen and he made you fall in love with his characters time and time again. But all of those thoughts had occurred while you were under the realistic assumption that you would never actually get to say any of it to him.

But now he was sleeping just down the hall from you.

Blindly grabbing the first book your fingers found, you scurried back up the stairs and into the sanctuary of your room before you ran the risk of running into him on the way. Choosing a book was a fine enough thing not to put off until morning. Figuring out what to say to a celebrity that you had an innocent but huge crush on was something that definitely required you to sleep on it. Flopping back into your bed a little breathlessly, you had to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

I did say I needed an adventure.

Glancing down to see what book you’d grabbed, you read the title and laughed again. A Christmas Carol. Of course. What else would it be in this place?

It took a while, but eventually you were able to calm your brain - and heartbeat - enough to sink into the story and let thoughts about how on earth you were going to interact with Dieter slide to the backburner, and eventually, you drifted off to sleep.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Laurel was making one last phone call before closing up and heading home for the evening.

“Ivy?” She tapped her fingernails on the desk and grinned. “They’re both here. Just where they need to be this Christmas.”

“Good,” the other woman said. “Now the rest is up to them.”

– – –

Dieter tags: @something-tofightfor @littlemisspascal @tentacruels @alraedesigns @practicalghost

@trickstersp8 @imtryingmybeskar @mswarriorbabe80 @theredwritingwitch @silverstarsandsuns

@pedro-pedrito-pascalito @jedi-in-crocs @chiyo13 @myloveistoolittle @noisynightmarepoetry

@haylzcyon @jessthebaker @pedrostories @covetyou

#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #the yule lodge #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo christmas story #pedro pascal character #this one ran away from me #but it's dieter so i allowed it to happen #merry christmas and happy holidays and joyful yule to everyone!

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fortunapre · 6 months ago

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𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘𖧞 once a year, your family visits your holiday home for christmas break, which also happens to be the one time you see your childhood enemy, Oscar.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+ (suggestive), fluff, first-time-writing-on-here-so-beware, female reader, i think that’s all. Use of Y/N (as little as possible), swearing

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene 1) 1.1k 𖧞 planning on a couple posts so a lot upcoming.

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 this IS my first fic and post on here, so if the writing is mediocre that’s why. Hate comments will not be tolerated (obv). Also, I’m planning on this being a multi-post fic so word count will grow. Enjoy!

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene i 𖧞 (𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫)

“Hairless Hugh Jackman or Skinny Henry Cavill?”

My head rested against the cold window of the car, my eyes closed. I was tired and bored, but the game of ‘this or that’ being played next to me, kept my mind awake. I wouldn’t admit it but my siblings' answers and conversations could actually be entertaining. Now being a prime example.

I considered the question more deeply than I probably should have. “Hairless Hugh takes away everything good about him, so obviously Henry.” I answered with my eyes still closed and head against the window.

“Ew, no,” My sister replied. “Henry’s body in the Superman movies are, like, all that I live for. I couldn’t care less about Hugh Jackman.” She laughed and scrunched her nose like she was picturing both options. I just smiled, acknowledging her answer before opening my eyes to stare at the passing trees out of the window.

My forehead was cold from the temperature outside but I was too awestruck by the view: white covered trees and mountains stretched for miles. The winter season cloaked the entire outdoors and snow sparked in the little sunlight. I couldn’t wait until we reached the cabin.

My sister and brother, twins, were only a year younger than me, so their experiences with Christmas break are similar to mine.

Every year, my family travels to Canada and stays in our winter cabin over Christmas Break. Safe to say, I have been waiting for Christmas break to start since July. It’s the only time of year I feel at peace without the commotion of work and stress.

And I guess the view’s nice too.

We had been driving for hours in a tightly packed minivan, and past a group of trees, I spotted a small town, meaning we were close to our destination. Next to me, I felt my sister shift and basically lie on top of me to get a look out of the window. I grumbled and tried to push her off since her elbow was digging in my side but she was unrelenting.

“Wow, look at this!” She spoke to my brother who was sitting two seats away from me. He had his own window and looked just as mesmerized as I was. No matter how many times we visit, the scenery would never be anything but gorgeous.

The tires of the minivan crunched as we pulled onto the gravel driveway of the cabin. Immediately, my family began piling out and grabbing everything we packed, which was a lot. I walked through the large door of the cabin with very little visibility because of the mound of blankets and bags I was carrying. I started heading straight towards my bedroom before I knocked into someone without looking and everything fell from my arms. I gasped and started muttering about how they should have moved out of the way, fully expecting the person I bumped into to be one of my siblings but as I looked up I saw who I actually bumped into and immediately shut up.

“Oh, it’s just you.” I deadpanned. I stood up straight and quit trying to pick up my stuff, resting a hand on my hip at the person in front of me.

Oscar Piastri. As in the son of the family that stayed in the cabin with us every summer.

Nicole and Chris Piastri, his parents, were my parents’ best friends since highschool. But, when we moved to America and they stayed in Australia, the only time we ever see the Piastri family is over Christmas Break.

Earlier, when I was talking about how much I adore the cabin, I forgot about this information. I take back what I said. Christmas Break is not a break of peace. Instead, its weeks of torture and stress as i barely survive around Mr. Annoying, himself: Oscar Piastri.

What’s annoying about him isn’t that he’s loud or obnoxious- it’s the very opposite.

Ever since we were little, when our families lived a block away from each other, Oscar barely reacted to anything. Most adults or kids our age loved his calm exterior and how ‘mature he was for his age,’ meanwhile I was constantly regarded as a ‘trouble child.’

I was jealous. Of Course I was jealous. Oscar got praised for years and I was pushed away and given a sucker to stay away.

What was the worst, however, was how Oscar acted around me. To others he was a saint, but around me, he made sure to agonize me any chance he got. He would push me off of the swing and then when adults would ask what happened he would pretend like I fell and he was helping me up.

Asshole.

Anyways, now I only have to see him once a year, but those few weeks in December make me want to rip my hair out and run away with a hairless Hugh Jackman.

When I saw who I bumped into, my excited smile was replaced with what felt like a snarl. Oscar stood in front of me, a stupid sirk on his lips, probably having ran into me on purpose.

“Y/n. Didn’t see you there.” He said, a sly smirk still present. He was wearing an orange hoodie, no doubt merch of his. Because, did I mention, Perfect-Piastri also happens to be a Formula-fucking-One Mclaren Racing driver.

Yeah…

So, another thing he holds above me.

“Yeah sure you didn’t” I mutter while moving to shove everything back into my arms. But as I picked up one thing, another fell and instead of noticing my struggle and helping, Oscar just stood there. However, once my parents barreled through the door, arms just as full as mine was, so in order to look helpful, Oscar bent down to carry the heaviest bag.

“Oh! Oscar,” my mom noticed him. “We had no idea you guys had arrived yet.” She had a warm smile on her lips, genuinely happy to see him. “We were hoping to get here first and start cooking dinner.”

She motioned towards my dad who held the bags of groceries we had bought before heading here. In the bags were cans of yams and frozen veggies, indicating their plans.

“Oh, no worries.” Oscar replies, with a matching smile. “My mom started cooking already. We would definitely be happy to enjoy your cooking tomorrow, though. I really am a sucker for your candied yams.”

I watched the scene unfold and rolled my eyes.

Oscar turned back towards me with an amused look and started walking away towards my room, my bag in hand. I shut my eyes tightly, and looked up, praying that I wouldn't go insane this month before following him up the stairs.

(SCENE ii) click here

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜

#oscar piastri x reader #formula 1 #f1 #op81 #my fic #fanfic #first post

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lumi-nescentt · 1 year ago

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What A Blessing To Feel Your Love

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Warnings: a few sex jokes here and there bc they like to tease each other

Words: 6k

Summary: You and Pierre have been dating for a few years and he always loved spoiling you so when Max tells him about his stay in st barts, Pierre decide that he has to take you there.

A/N: I did ended up quoting the song Red Desert by 5sos... couldn't help myself :)

Being Pierre's girlfriend was already a great life experience during the season, the man loved to have you with him as much as he could whether it was in the paddock, in his Milan apartment or in whatever place he had to be for work or pleasure.

Since you had to work with his schedule, yours was a little less busier, it was simpler that way. Pierre insisted on paying for everything when you travelled to meet him. You had tried arguing with him but whenever it happened, Pierre just shut you up with a kiss and told you that whatever he was paying for was worth it if he got to see you a little more often.

It was hard to argue with that logic, especially when he smiled so fondly whenever you agreed to come with him. Despite having this kind of intimidating aura, Pierre was the kindest and most thoughtful boyfriend you ever had. Being with him felt like coming home in a way and that was the most comforting feeling.

When the summer break came, you usually tagged along to wherever his friends had planned to go that year. It usually circled back to the same three locations: Greece, Italy and the South of France. All three destinations were great: beautiful landscapes, clear waters and warm sun. It was the perfect destination to get a good tan for both Pierre and you.

The Frenchman knew how much you loved your summer trips so when he had heard Max talk about this beautiful island he had gone to for New Year's, he had immediately booked a trip for the both of you during that same time.

Keeping it a surprise had been the trickiest part. He wanted to surprise you but he needed to be sure that you were free during that time. In the end he settled for just telling you that he was taking you somewhere right after Christmas until after New Year's. You had tried to get more information out of him but the little fucker had kept his mouth shut, no matter what sneaky tactics you had tried to use.

That’s why you were currently sitting in a private jet, still clueless about your destination. Pierre had only told you to let your best friend pack your suitcase because it was the only way to keep the secret for this long. The only thing you knew was that the flight was going to last around 9 hours so you were prepared to be a little bored.

Pierre hated flying, he had told you countless times, when it was just the two of you laying down in bed at night. How, even with how much he did it, he couldn’t shake how terrified he was to crash. A 9 hours flight meant that you were most likely crossing the Atlantic ocean and that took a lot out of your boyfriend so, even though there were a lot of seats you could have taken, you sat on the one right next to him, holding his hand and letting him rest his head on your shoulder.

You knew Pierre had relaxed a little when his breath evened and the death-grip on your hand loosened slightly. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw his peaceful face, brushing a strand of hair away from his face before resting your head on top of his, finally allowing yourself to rest now that Pierre was fast asleep.

You woke up a few hours later to Pierre trying to remove his head from under yours without waking you up. Noticing he had failed, the Frenchman offered you an apologetic smile that you brushed off with a soft press of your lips on his cheek. Since you were now both awake and still had time to kill, Pierre got his laptop out so you could watch the latest show you had been watching together.

The both of you got so lost in it that you didn’t notice right away as the plane started to go lower. Pierre was the first one to realise, his whole body tensing and gripping the arm rest as discreetly as he could. However, you knew him too well not to see that so you put his hand back in yours and started to trace random shapes on the back of it until the plane finally came to a stop.

The first thing that hit you when you got out of the plane was the heat. Gone was the December cold and the snow you had experienced in Europe, you felt the heat envelop you and your sweatshirt was gone the second you put one foot outside.

The second thing that hit you was that you weren’t heading towards the terminal and instead you were being led to an even smaller private plane. You looked at Pierre with a questioning look on your face but all you got in return was a cramped smile.

The Frenchman tried to look as chill as he could but Max had told him that the plane ride from St Maarten to St Barts was one of the scariest he had experienced. And that came from Max Verstappen so Pierre took it more than seriously.

Once you were back in the air, you watched in awe the crystal blue water that seemed to stretch forever as Pierre tried his best not to let the fear take over. Luckily for him, the flight barely lasted 15 minutes and soon the both of you watched as the plane’s nose dipped towards the earth at a rapid pace. Pierre watched terrified as the plane manoeuvred between two mountains before dropping down on the runway he could see from the plane’s windshield from where he was sitting.

As soon as the doors were opened, Pierre was outside with his bags. He ran towards the minuscule airport, giving you a sorry smile as he bent over the edge of the closest bin and finally released what his stomach had tried to hold onto during the short flight.

After passing the border control surprisingly fast, it only took you 2 minutes from the moment you crossed the first door to the moment you were back outside, Pierre stopping to the bathroom to brush his teeth, the Frenchman looked at you with a brighter smile.

-“ Welcome to St Barts mon coeur”

-"Pierre, this is beautiful. That's the best surprise ever." you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck

-" Wait till you see the place we're staying at, it's even prettier."

You had trouble believing Pierre but the moment your boyfriend stopped in front of the hotel, you knew he might actually be right. The hotel was overlooking a beautiful white sand beach with red sunbeds and a few swings. Pierre went to grab the room key and as he did a quick room tour, you let yourself crash onto the bed, groaning into the pillow.

-“ You should really get up and take a look at the view, you know ?” Pierre chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on your lower back

-“ I will in a minute, I promise. I just need to rest my neck for a second.”

-“ Are you feeling alright ?” Pierre asked, sounding a little worried as you shifted on your side to face him

-“ Don’t worry about it, I’m just a little tense because of the flight but I’ll be alright.”

-“ Come here, sit up please.” Pierre said as he patted the space in front of him “ Tell me if I’m putting too much pressure on it, okay ?”

-“ You don’t have to give me a massage Pierre.” you affirmed but as soon as his hands were on your neck, you couldn’t keep the sigh of relief from leaving your mouth

-“ First off, I’m doing this for both of us because I’m not going to be able to enjoy myself if you’re in pain and you should know that. Second, I won’t miss out on having my hands on my beautiful girlfriend.” Pierre smiled cheekily, pressing a kiss on your cheek

-“ Well, when you put it like that.” you said, not able to keep a laugh from escaping your lips

After Pierre’s massage that had inevitably turned into a quick and needed makeout session, you finally got to do your long awaited room tour. The bedroom was facing an enormous window with a sea-view and over your own private little infinity pool. The next room was a walk-in closet made of oak with a glass sliding door that opened on your terrace with a little table and two sunbeds.

Finally, the bathroom was separated in three parts: the toilet room that was just what it seemed only expensive looking, the double sink part with a marble countertop and a mirror that reached the ceiling and finally, the italian shower that was entirely covered in black stone tiles with a small square window that, of course, showed you a clear view of the beach and the never-ending ocean in front of you.

You were still looking at the bathroom when Pierre sneaked his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder which made you jump slightly.

-“ So, what do you think ? Is that a good surprise ?”

-“ It’s perfect, I couldn’t dream of a better place to spend the holidays.” you smiled, caressing his cheek softly

-“ What about the company ?”

-“ You already know what I think about that, Pierre. You only want to hear it again because it flatters your ego…”

-“ Maybe I just like to make sure my girlfriend is as in love with me as I am with her.” Pierre retorqued, kissing your shoulder

-“ The company is the best. Thanks for bringing me here, darling.”

-“ It’s my pleasure.” the Frenchman smiled “ Do you want to have a quick nap or do you want to go explore a bit ?”

-“ I don’t think we came here to sleep so let’s get ready, Gasly.”

-“ I mean, I wouldn’t mind a little time on the bed but you’re the boss so let’s go.” Pierre winked, unwrapping his arms from your waist

-“ Get your mind out of the gutter and get out so I can shower please.” you laughed, grabbing the nearest towel, fakely hitting your boyfriend who started laughing

-“ You’re no fun, you know that ? If you change your mind, just yell. I’ll come in a sec.”

-" It won't happen but alright, now go please." you smiled, kissing Pierre tenderly

Now that you were finally free of your very loving boyfriend who had gone on the balcony to lay in the sun, you finally got ready to go explore the island a little before jetlag caught up with the both of you.

When Pierre showed you the car he had rented, you couldn’t help the laugh that got out of your mouth. The car was cute but it was a bright orange small open car that looked straight out of a cartoon. It definitely wasn’t something you had expected your boyfriend to drive but with his white linen outfit, he weirdly fit in this beach day paradise picture.

Pierre seemed to know where he was going, reading the indications on the signs and smoothly manoeuvring the car on the tight roads. The drive wasn’t long and yet it seemed like you had travelled elsewhere. Gone was the busy hotel and the white sandy beach full of tourists, you were now faced with an empty beach covered with rocks and waves crashing on the shore in intervals.

You were rendered speechless by the view, turning towards Pierre to say something, anything, to tell him that it was the most beautiful place you’d ever been to but there was no word to describe exactly how magical the moment felt. Especially when the sun was slowly getting down and casting a warm orange light on Pierre who was just smiling at you with so much love. The whole scene made you want to do a single thing and you quickly did, pressing your lips against Pierre’s as a way to express the tumult of feelings you were feeling inside.

The two of you sat on a small stonewall overlooking the beach as you watched the sun descend behind the horizon line, your head on Pierre’s shoulder and his hand on your thigh. Neither of you said anything until the sun was completely hidden and Pierre tugged on your hand, motioning for you to get off the wall.

You could have stayed there forever with him but if you were being honest, the jetlag was starting to catch up with you and you were getting hungrier by the minute. Pierre was well aware of the last part as your stomach grumbled rather loudly during the car ride back to the hotel, making the both of you laugh.

Despite wanting to discover the island a little more, you decided to order room service for the night, too tired to go out. Plus, eating in your room wasn’t a bad thing at all, you got to eat while listening to the peaceful sound of the waves crashing and nobody would be telling you anything about decorum if your body was leaning and desperately clinging onto Pierre.

The Frenchman wasn’t complaining at all about that last part, happy to have you close and even happier when you agreed to go for a quick swim in the pool with him before bed. Well, swim was a big word because you were mostly hugging Pierre the whole time as he tried to move around before giving up and sitting on the stairs to cuddle in the water.

You could have dozed off right there under the pale moonlight and the warmth of Pierre’s skin but he wouldn’t let you because he knew better. You were tired and not used to the temperature yet so that could make you get sick easier than usual and Pierre didn’t want that at all. Knowing that you’d be too tired to do anything now that you were almost asleep, Pierre just dragged you to the bathroom, washing your face and rinsing the chlorine off your skin before giving you one of his shirts to sleep in.

Between the softness of your boyfriend’s t-shirt, the weight of his arm around your waist and the AC softly blowing air in the room, you could definitely say this was one of the best nights of sleep you got in a while. Pierre would have honestly said the same if he hadn’t been woken up by the feeling of your finger poking his ribs and tickling his neck. He tried to feign annoyance and act grumpy but the act was dropped the moment you started peppering kisses all over his face until piercing blue eyes were looking at you with an infectious smile.

Breakfast was eaten in a hurry, Pierre telling you he had planned a whole day of activities and that you needed to be ready soon. His warning would have been nice if he had actually said what you were doing so you knew how to dress but he was adamant on keeping it a surprise, only telling you to wear a swimsuit. When he jokingly complained that you were taking too long to get ready, you reminded him that looking this gorgeous took a little time, teasingly adding that he wouldn’t know about that as you came out of the bathroom.

When your eyes fell on him, your urge to tease him completely melted. His body was resting against the door frame, lazily playing with a few unruly strands of hair and he couldn’t have looked more attractive to you. It didn’t even look like he was trying hard to look good too with his crisp white linen shirt and those orange swim shorts you had found horrendous at first. Now you couldn’t help but notice how it complimented his already tanned skin and toned body.

-“ You like what you see, mon coeur ?” he exaggeratedly winked

-“ You don’t look too bad for someone who took 5 minutes to get ready.”

-“ What can I say… Some of us are just naturally breathtaking.” he laughed as you pouted

-“ Some of us ? Should I feel insulted ?”

-“ No, never. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. No matter what you’re wearing or not wearing.” Pierre teased, putting his hands on your hips, pulling you against him to kiss you slowly

-“ Alright, as much as I love what we’re doing right now, you said we couldn’t be late to what you had planned so we need to leave now.” you mumbled, lips inches away from his as he grunted, knowing you were right

The drive to the mysterious spot was nice and despite how short it was, Pierre’s hand was on your thigh as you watched in awe the turquoise water that seemed to stretch for hundreds of miles and the trees full of colourful flowers. You were so focused on the scenery around you that you almost didn’t notice when he stopped the car and came round to open the door for you.

You looked around, trying to guess what you were doing today and when your eyes fell on the yachts lined up next to each other, you turned towards your boyfriend with an excited look on your face. Pierre nodded before wrapping his hand in yours and walking towards one of the boats. Since it was only you and him, you expected to go on the smallest one but instead Pierre marched towards the biggest one and saluted the man waiting in front of it before climbing aboard.

You knew Pierre was rich. You had been dating for years at this point and you had witnessed his financial growth first hand, going from quick and cheap cinema dates in small towns to expensive restaurants all over the world but this was something else. Pierre had always been pretty quiet about his wealth, he knew you didn’t exactly come from money and hated to feel like you were just leeching off him when there was a cheaper equivalent that was just as good.

However, this was different. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t enjoy the luxurious boat you had all to yourself. Not when Pierre was looking all too happy to show you around, explaining how he had asked for this specific boat and why. It was endearing really, the way he seemed so happy to please you and treat you like a princess. In all honesty, he was probably enjoying the smile and the kiss you gave him as a thanks more than the actual boat he had paid thousands to rent.

Your day on the water started on a high because as soon as you were out of the marina, the boat threw the anchor down and suddenly jet skis were dropped down in the water for you and Pierre. The Frenchman tried to convince you to try it on your own first but when he realised that having you on the same one as him meant having you as close as possible, he stopped arguing and almost jumped on the jet ski with a sly smile.

You spent about an hour and a half hanging onto Pierre for dear life as you let out screams of pure adrenaline when you jumped over the waves at high speed, crashing with brutal force, knocking the air out of your lungs for a few seconds before you laughed. The sound was music to Pierre’s ears and you could tell he was doing his best to pull it out of you as often as he could by showing off and going as fast as he dared.

When you finally came back to the yacht, someone was waiting to tell you that lunch was ready whenever you were. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you saw the table filled with your favourite things and in quantities you could never ingest, even with a boyfriend that could eat his own weight in food easily. Nevertheless, you sat down on the bench determined to honour the time the people who cooked must have spent making this.

You realised you had eaten too much a bit too late so when Pierre asked what you wanted to do after lunch, you just shrugged, wanting nothing more than to sleep until you were feeling less groggy and full. Without you having to say a word, Pierre understood and took your hand so you followed him towards the front of the boat where the sunbed was. It was the biggest one you had ever seen, taking most of the place there and it looked so comfortable you couldn’t help but sigh expectantly.

Pierre lied down first, spreading his arms out as he settled on his back with one hand behind his head. He looked almost unreal like that, all flushed skin from the sun, shining with what you assumed was a thin layer of sweat from the sun that peaked above you. You didn’t ever care about the heat or the sweat as you joined him on the bed, half on top of him, your cheek resting on his chest, his chin on the top of your head.

You hadn’t even realised you were starting to fall asleep until you felt something cold hit your back, shrieking at the feeling. You looked up when you felt Pierre laugh softly, glaring at him menacingly to make him stop whatever he was trying to do.

-“ Relax princess. I’m just putting sunscreen on your back so you can sleep without looking like a lobster tomorrow.”

-“ Oh, that’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

-“ Wouldn’t want you whining about how your back hurt the whole trip now, would we ?”

-“ I don’t whine, Pierre.” you huffed, rolling your eyes as he smiled even bigger now

-“ You’re a terrible liar but it’s okay, I still love you.” he tried to kiss you, chuckling when you pulled back, still acting offended

-“ Even if I did whine, which I don’t… I thought you liked hearing me. Isn’t that what you said last time in your driver’s room ?” you asked, looking at him with the biggest doe eyes you could as his whole face flushed red

-“ You– You’re going to be the death of me one day, you know that ?”

-“ It’s okay, we both know you love it.” you winked, pecking his lips before stretching and settling down against him again, ready to nap for real this time

-“ Oh no no, mon coeur. You don’t get to tease me like that and then just fall asleep after you reminded me of this. If I can’t sleep, you’re not sleeping either.” he promised, shuffling under you, picking you up with ease

-“ Pierre. Put me down.”

-“ What’s the magic word, princess ?”

-“ I’m not calling you daddy, if that’s what you were asking for.” you teased, knowing it would rile him up

-“ For the last time, y/n, I do not have a daddy kink so please for the love of God, stop saying that every time we’re in public because people are going to actually start believing it.” Pierre blurted, his face flushing

-“ But you’re so cute when you blush. How could I resist when teasing you is so fun and so easy ?”

-“ Who are you calling cute ?” he tried, flexing his muscles as he tried to pull you towards him, attempting a biceps curl

-“ Slow down big boy, I don’t want to fall face first and whine all week about how much it hurts.” you teased back

-“ You know what ? I was going to be nice and just put you back down but I feel like you’re a little too feisty today and maybe you need to cool down a bit.” Pierre nodded to himself, walking closer to the end of the boat as you wiggled in his arms, demanding that he put you down with screaming giggles

Pierre liked to think he was a nice boyfriend or at least nice enough to make sure he warned you before jumping so you could close your mouth before entering the water. The water wasn’t particularly cold but you definitely felt a rush of blood course through your entire body from the suddenness of it . You tried to look mad when you looked at Pierre but between his goofy smile and the water dripping from his hair onto his nose and his lips, you didn’t last a second before pressing your lips against his. This may not be heaven but it felt pretty damn close to you.

After kissing for a bit in the water, Pierre letting you control the pace and how long you did it for, claiming it was his way of apologising when you both knew he was enjoying this just as much as you, you finally got your nap in the sun. You were still laying on top of Pierre and as time went by and the sun slowly got down, you could feel your boyfriend grow restless under you. You tried to ask him if he wanted you to move off him or if something was wrong but he just told you not to move and that everything was perfect.

You didn’t quite believe him but you knew he would tell you at some point if something was really bothering him so you let it slide. Still wanting to show that you were there for him, you tightened your arms around his body and started playing with the hair at the back of his neck just the way he loved. It seemed to make him relax a little because by the time the captain of the boat came to tell you they had to head back to the marina, Pierre was smiling again.

After spending your whole day outside doing activities, you expected Pierre to want to rest for the evening and have dinner in your room but as soon as you were back at the hotel, he was off to shower telling you that he’d leave you the bathroom once he was done so you could take your time to get ready. Before you could even say something, he told you that the restaurant was a surprise and that it was a pretty fancy place so you could dress up if you wanted to.

You tried to drag your boyfriend on the bed when he came out only wearing a towel around his hips but despite giving you a long and languid kiss, Pierre didn’t give in. He was adamant that the plans he had made needed to happen and that even his drop dead gorgeous girlfriend, his words, couldn’t convince him to be late. Since he was never one to turn down such an offer to have fun, you couldn’t help but grow suspicious at his behaviour.

Just when you were about to say something about it, Pierre pushed you towards the bathroom with a kiss, biting your bottom lip and playfully slapping your ass before leaving you to get ready. Now, that was more like the Pierre you knew so you brushed off your previous feeling and started getting ready.

The restaurant was more than beautiful. Pierre had picked a place straight out of a fairytale with that one. It was on the beach, dim lights everywhere that created an intimate ambiance paired with the sound of the waves crashing and the low jazz music playing in the background. You expected to be seated at one of the tables you saw but the waiter walked a little further away on the beach, revealing a secluded table surrounded by palm trees and what looked like fancy fairy lights.

You let Pierre drag your chair for you as you took in your surroundings. The Frenchman was watching you with a soft smile on his face, a clear affection written all over his features.

-“ So, do you like it ?” he asked as he anxiously sat down

-“ Pierre, this is perfect.”

-“ Really ?”

-“ Yes, I couldn’t dream of a prettier place to eat with you.”

-“ I’m glad you like it, I had a bunch of options but this restaurant was the only one that felt right, the only one that felt like us.” he admitted, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck

-“ You made a great choice but you really don’t have to stress yourself over this. I’ll be more than happy to eat junk food sitting on the pavement if that means I get to spend time with you.”

-“ I know, I just like spoiling you and showing you off I guess.” he smiled brightly as the waiter came back, stopping the moment you two had been sharing

It was a dinner filled with good wine, exquisite food and even better company. Despite having the waiter come back a few times to ask if everything was alright, it truly felt like you were the only two in the world right now. Pierre was a little touchier than usual, keeping your hand in his whenever you didn’t need it and scooting his chair closer to you so he could rest his hand on your thigh when you nodded both hands to eat. It was endearing and you couldn’t do anything but smile back and melt into his familiar touch.

You knew your boyfriend too much not to notice he was growing antsy as the meal was getting closer to the end but despite moving around a lot, he was still smiling and he seemed happy so you let him be again, not wanting to ruin the romantic atmosphere. When the dessert finally came, you dug in with appetite in the beautiful tiramisu as Pierre laughed at your behaviour before moving his seat back a little.

-“ I’m so happy to be here with you, mon coeur.” Pierre started while you were still looking at your plate and eating, your full focus on the food in front of you “ We’ve been together for almost 5 years now, you know ? I wish I could say that I find this crazy but I really don’t. I feel like I’ve known you forever and 5 years seems way too small compared to what I want with you.”

-“ Oh Pierre…” you started, finally looking at him as you felt your voice quivering with emotions

-“ I’ve thought about us a lot recently and there isn’t a single moment where I’d want us to be apart. You’ve been there for me at my worst and yet you still found it in yourself to love me for who I am and I don’t want to imagine where I’d be without you. I know I’m not usually one to talk about feelings and stuff like that but you make me feel safe enough to do so just by being yourself because you’re the most understanding, loving and caring person I know.” he declared, wrapping his hand in yours before continuing “I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else on this planet because I truly believe we are made for each other. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else and that’s why I actually wanted us to come here because you deserve to know how much you mean to me and how much I love you.”

-“ I love you so much, baby. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else ever either.” you murmured, fighting back tears as you watched Pierre slowly grab something in his pocket

-“ I’m glad you said that actually because I wanted to ask you something.” he smiled, letting go of your hand to grab the velvet box in his hands

-“ No, you didn’t !” you exclaimed, slapping your hand over your mouth while Pierre dropped to one knee in front of you

-“ Y/n, mon coeur, you’re the love of my life and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to call you my wife and grow old with you. Will you give me the honour of calling you my wife ?”

-“ Yes, God, yes I’ll marry you. I love you so much.” you cried as he put the ring on your finger before kneeling down on the ground and kissing him with all the force you had

-“ I love you too, amour. You have no idea how much.” Pierre smiled, tears wetting his cheeks too while you rested your forehead against his

-“ I think I do after your big speech.”

-“ That was kind of the point of the whole thing.” he laughed, the sound making your heart soar with love so intensely you felt a sob wash over you at thought that this beautiful man in front of you was now your fiancé

-“ You’re such an idiot making me cry like that, you big dork. I must look awful with the tear stains.” you sniffled, Pierre pulling you in for a hug before helping you sit back on your chair again

-“ You look perfect, I promise. You look like someone who just got engaged.”

-“ It’s not fair, you look beautiful as always and not all snotty from crying like me. I hate you so much. I hope you know we’re not taking engagement pictures with me looking like that.” you scoffed, hiding behind your glass of champagne that was now empty

-“ Don’t worry, I’m not crying much now but the day we get married I’ll be a crying fountain and you can laugh all you want then.”

-“ I still can’t believe it, you’re going to be my husband. Oh my God, I’m going to be your wife.”

-“ You’re not already regretting it, are you ?”

-“ Of course not. I know it doesn’t look like it with all the tears and the teasing but there’s no word to describe how happy I am that you proposed. You’re the love of my life, P. I mean it. You’re my person, always and forever.”

-“ Good because I might have invited our families and close friends to celebrate with us here for New Year’s.” he admitted with a grin, making you laugh

-“ You were that sure that I’d say yes ?” you teased him with a nudge of your shoulder

-“ I was just really hoping you would because it would’ve been really uncomfortable otherwise.”

-“ Well it’s a good thing I’m head over heels in love with you then.”

-“ The feeling’s more than mutual mon coeur.” Pierre smiled, pressing his lips against yours, pouring all the love he felt for you in that slow kiss

The days between your engagement and the arrival of everyone had been spent in a daze. You and Pierre were completely immersed in your own bubble and everything felt like the beginning of your relationship again. Whatever Pierre said made you blush and he couldn’t help but feel the need to impress you and make you fall in love with him all over again.

Seeing the ring he had chosen on your finger was making him feel all kinds of things and it seemed like being apart from you for two seconds was now impossible. He was always touching you in a way and he gave you nothing short of the princess treatment.

It was endearing and you couldn’t lie and say you didn’t feel the exact same way as you took pictures to share the news to everyone around you. Pierre was beaming with pride whenever he caught you looking at the ring with a smile or when he looked at his own. There was truly no one else he’d want to spend his life with so he was relieved you said yes.

The day you finally got married, Pierre kept his promise and wept as you walked in and as he read his vows, taking a deep breath before saying the last sentence of his carefully written text. Holding your delicate hands in his, Pierre said: “ You’re the only one I'd do this with, what a blessing to feel your love, mon coeur.”

That last sentence was engraved in your head and in your heart, probably resonating deep in your soul until you’d give your last breath and leave the love of your life before he joined you into eternity. Because you knew Pierre and you were bonded by something bigger, you were twin flames, two parts of one being separated in two bodies, destined to find each other in every life, no matter what form that took. You were sure of it, it was the reason you agreed to marry him, he was your person, always and forever.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader

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airybcby · 1 month ago

Note

actually I was just passing by and scrolling on tumblr (using the school computer cuz I dont wanna go to class yet and because it has wifi) and I wanted to try and take my chance in your recnt post which I just saw and it made me pretty interested in who you would pair me up with

I have "take a chance with me" by Niki as my top song (of course) and Seventeen as my top artist for this years spotify wrapped, very interested to find out who you would pair me with, thank you again!!

if take a chance with me by niki was your top song and seventeen was your top artist, i'd pair you with...

isagi yoichi

જ⁀♡⊹｡° say what we we want, say what we feel

♡ a/n — for my spotify wrapped event - masterlist -

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, gn! reader, childhood friends, friends to lovers, awkward isagi, unrequited love for a second, mention of picking soccer and reader

♡ synopsis — you've always loved isagi yoichi, but when he finally tells you how he feels, your friendship could crumble.

You and Isagi always shared a quiet understanding. While the world saw him as a rising star, someone who was destined for greatness, you were the person who saw his true self—the quiet boy who feared failure and the overwhelming pressure to be the best.

It had always been like that, even when you were younger. He’d train, head down and focused, always trying to get better, and you’d be the one who kept him grounded, reminding him of the simpler things in life—the fun of just playing without the weight of expectations.

But those days felt so far away now. You’d grown up, he’d grown into a national hero, and the distance between you both seemed unbridgeable. Still, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat faster every time you saw him. Even now, after all this time, that same rush of emotions stirred inside you.

It was a rare thing, this moment—a simple, quiet day. Isagi had invited you over to his apartment after a long day, the kind where he'd just played a big match with his team, and you, as always, attended from the sidelines, cheering him on. Now, you sat on the couch, the warm glow of string lights and Christmas decorations creating a peaceful atmosphere as you both relaxed. You didn’t know why he insisted on movie nights like this. Maybe it was the closest thing to normal he had.

You hadn’t seen him in a while. With the constant traveling and the endless responsibilities that came with his career, you knew it wasn’t easy for him to keep in touch with everyone, but somehow, he always made time for you. There was something so familiar about him, but also, he felt like a stranger at times.

"Hey," Isagi's voice breaks through the silence. He's looking at you, his gaze soft but intense, like he’s deciding something, something important.

"Yeah?" You glance over at him, heart skipping a beat.

He shifts uncomfortably, one leg crossed over the other, eyes tracing the floor before meeting yours again. "I don’t know when things changed. When... you became more than just a friend. But I realized I’ve been putting this off for too long."

You blink, your heart hammering. "What are you talking about?" Your voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the sudden nervousness settling in your chest.

"I’ve never been good at expressing myself," he chuckles softly, the sound both familiar and a little sad. "I thought maybe I could just ignore it, or maybe it would go away, but... I don’t think it will." He looks at you, eyes full of something you can’t quite place, but it’s vulnerable. Raw.

You swallow, trying to make sense of what he's saying. It feels like he's been talking around this moment for years, and now, it’s finally come to the surface. "Isagi..."

His gaze softens, and for the first time, you see that faint trace of doubt in him—the same doubt you used to reassure him about back in the day. "I don’t want to regret this. I don’t want to look back and think that maybe I could have... I don’t know... tried something with you. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to mess things up, but now..." He exhales shakily. "I can’t pretend like I don’t want you in my life, in my future. I want to try, but I... I’m scared. I don’t know what to do with all these feelings."

His words hang in the air, and your heart feels like it’s been pulled in two directions. Part of you wants to reach out to him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way for so long, that all of this time spent apart hasn’t dulled your feelings for him. But the other part—the part that’s always been afraid of taking that leap—wants to stay safe in the distance, to preserve what you have, even if it means holding back.

"You’re scared?" you finally manage to say, laughing softly. "You’re the one who’s been scoring goals in front of thousands of people, and you’re scared of this?"

Isagi chuckles nervously, his eyes bright with a mixture of relief and frustration. "Yeah, well... this is different. You’ve always been someone who just... made sense to me, you know? But now it feels like everything’s spinning so fast, and I’m not sure how to make it stop."

You let out a slow breath, your heart racing as you finally let yourself speak the words that have been trapped in your chest for so long. "I feel the same way, Yoichi."

His eyes widen, as if hearing it out loud for the first time is what makes it real. "So... does that mean you’d...?"

"I don’t want to pick," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want you to choose between soccer and the future we could have, or... whatever we are now."

Isagi’s expression softens as he inches closer, the tension between you both now palpable. His hand brushes against yours, fingers lightly grazing your skin. "I don’t want to pick either, but I have to try. So, let's just... try."

You can see it now, the sincerity in his eyes, the way he’s finally letting himself be vulnerable with you. And in that moment, you realize that even though the future may be uncertain, you’re both standing at the edge together, finally ready to leap.

With a shaky breath, you reach for him, your fingers curling into his hand, offering him the chance you both deserve.

soft isagi they will never make me change you

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy posts #bllk #blue lock #airy answers asks :)#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #bllk isagi #yoichi isagi #blue lock isagi

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always-andromeda · 1 month ago

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⋆⁺. ❅ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 ❅ .⁺⋆

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Din Djarin x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1051

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ A trip to Kashyyyk to observe Life Day leads to Din reevaluating the nature of his relationship with you.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ Merry Christmas Eve, Liv (@galaxyedging)!! I'm your Secret Santa for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event!! I've only written for Din once before but I wanted to challenge myself a little and try to write something soft and fluffy from his perspective since he's your favorite. I hope my little offering fills you with the warm and fuzzies this holiday. Sending you a massive hug along with this too. Please take care of yourself!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ no smut, all fluff but please, mdni. subtle friends to lovers. terrible regurgitations of Life Day lore (pls do not crucify me for my portrayal of Star Wars lore I promise I am trying my best thanksss <3). canon divergence (Din, reader, and Grogu are literally just a happy family and nothing bad has happened to them <3).

The dense forest of Kashyyyk had been a destination on your bucket list for quite some time. Din, personally, felt impartial about the Wookie planet. But, somehow, in all of yours and his years of traveling the galaxy neither of you had never found a reason to make it there. At least not until one of Din’s guild contacts gave word there was work on the planet. All it took was some less than dignifying begging on your part to convince Din to extend your stay into the holiday season. After all, it was hard for even Din to argue with the betterment of Grogu’s cultural knowledge.

The likelihood that the kid would truly learn something from the event was low. Maybe he was fond of that excited sparkle in your eyes when he finally caved. And dank farrik, that look had his skin tingling with an electric pulse underneath his beskar plates. He was grateful he couldn’t properly feel your touch when you grabbed his hand with your own and thanked him profusely. If he had, he probably would’ve caught fire.

You’d worked with him for years. What had begun as a tentative partnership had evolved into something close to companionship; at least as close to companionship as a nameless, faceless man like him could get.

It helped that the kid adored you. You were almost always talking to or playing with him until he exhausted himself. Then you’d hum and rock him to sleep before laying him in his pod. Yeah…Grogu would’ve been distraught if you’d decided it was time to part ways.

Perhaps that’s why Din had given in.

Maker only knew that most others would’ve given up on trying to get to know long ago. There was only so much of himself left to offer with how much he had given to his creed and then his son. There wasn’t even much less for himself to hold onto. Yet you still managed to find something to grasp. You managed to trust him simply by the tone of his modulated voice. You’d found something in the Mandalorian’s imposing image that made you stay.

At the end of the day, choosing to stay a little while longer in Kashyyyk was the easiest option. It became even easier on the day you all chose to journey to the Tree of Life. The path had primarily been tread by the Wookies. However, in the years following the Empire’s fall from power, interest in the holiday had been steadily growing in the galaxy at large. While there were a handful of other beings you most likely could’ve actually spoken to, you seemed far more interested in the scenery.

Once your party had settled near the Tree of Life’s center, Din saw how both you and the child drank everything in. Crystalline orbs that glowed from the trees and reflected in Grogu’s massive eyes as he peered over the lip of his pod. More than once he attempted to reach for one of the traditional crimson robes that many of the Wookies wore. Din had tried to nip that in the bud with a stern no touching to him.

But, like everywhere you three went, Grogu’s pod was eventually crowded by all manner of children who’d never seen such a creature as him and he was all too willing to soak up the attention. Soon his grabby hands were clasping the fingers of half a dozen alien children cooing over him.

Din was moments away from shooing them away when you spoke up. “Give him some space, kids. We don’t want to overwhelm him, okay?”

They reluctantly backed up. You glanced at Din to remark, “Hopefully he doesn’t end up falling asleep before the main ceremony. I’d hate for him to miss it”

“If he does, we could just come back next year,” Din replied dryly.

You chuckled. “Next year? You want to make this a tradition now, huh?”

“That’s what this whole thing is about, isn’t it? Tradition…togetherness…trees…?”

“Sort of. Mostly it’s about family. It’s about coming together in harmony with one another. Being here with you both just made sense to me.”

Din tried to veil the intrigue in his voice. “Made sense?”

“Well…of course.” You played with your fingers as you seemed to think before explaining, “We’ve been working together for a while. And with Grogu…that makes us a family of sorts, don’t you think?”

Din couldn’t have formulated an answer even if he tried.

“Mando, look!” you exclaimed as the main event began. Your eyes lit up in time with the twinkling orbs nestled among the Tree of Life’s branches. The throaty voices of the Wookie choir resonated through the forest. But amongst all the people exchanging gifts, the joyous music, and the otherworldly lights, the only thing Din could focus on was your fingers beginning to dance with his own.

He bet they were cold. And he bet that with one swift movement he could easily engulf yours with his own gloved hand and warm it up immediately. In one move he could let you know there was something more than the presence of the child cementing his bond with you.

Din pulled his hand back and for a moment he felt your own recoil in what must’ve been embarrassment. He quickly remedied your panic and watched as you looked up at him. He didn’t blame you for the split second look of confusion on your face. But he reveled in it when your brow went soft and your lips pursed upon feeling his bare skin for the first time.

He could hardly believe that the only thing keeping him from experiencing this the whole time was a simple, silly glove. Your fingers laced between his like this was routine. Not practiced but still comfortable all the same. In time you quietly brought his hand to your lips and pressed a chaste kiss to one of his knuckles. Knuckles that rarely saw anything but the inside of those damned gloves were now being blessed by the warmth of your soft lips. It was so soft, so utterly wordless and unprecedented that it felt like your own personal gift to him. And out of all the important things Life Day was said to mean…this was it for him. Warmth.

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #din djarin #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fluff

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 21 days ago

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a/n: happy january! for @wyattjohnston ‘s 2025 winter fic exchange i got @tkwrites and this was my first exposure to sean durzi! i hope you enjoy the fic and the vibes are suitably cozy 🥰

word count: 5.5k

tw: friends to lovers, kissing, no smut

summary: lizzie arnold decides to surprise her best friend for christmas, but she could never have imagined how the holiday season would shake out

Elizabeth Arnold is having the travel day from hell.

A flight from Phoenix to Salt Lake City should only be an hour and forty five minutes. But when you add in mechanical failure, overbooking, and icy weather in the destination state, suddenly the quick trip turns into a logistical nightmare and she’s being rebooked on a flight that has a stopover in Los Angeles, adding nearly four hours to her travel itinerary.

Four hours on top of the three she’s already been wasting sitting in the Phoenix airport due to delays.

Honestly, it would’ve been faster to just drive to Salt Lake City at this point.

She pulls up Google Maps on her phone and taps in Sean’s address, just to see. Oh, more than ten hours of driving from the Phoenix airport. Actually, maybe she will just take the flight delays. At least it means she can just sit back and go where the airlines tell her, instead of having to focus on the roads.

She can’t even text Sean to tell him about all the airport bingo spaces she’s hitting - delayed flight, toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of the terminal, fourteen freaking dollar bag of almonds, woman completely overdressed for the flight - since her trip to Utah is a surprise.

With her two week Christmas break, she’d made the executive decision to work remote for the couple of days before Christmas and fly out to Utah to surprise her best friend since he’s been in a mood for months as he rehabs a shoulder injury.

Lizzie figures that she might as well spend the holidays with Sean since her own family is scattered to the four corners of the US and she doesn’t feel like deciding which parent she’ll see. When she’d told her mom she wouldn’t be coming to Boston for Christmas, her mom’s immediate reaction had been to blame her dad for monopolizing her time. Not that explaining she wasn’t seeing her dad in Dallas for Christmas either had stopped her mom’s rant. Nearly ten years divorced and both her parents still hated each other.

Her dad had taken it slightly better, assuming she was going to spend the holidays with her sister Jane in Seattle. Nope - Jane was going to her fiancé’s family’s place in the Adirondacks. Lizzie hadn’t been invited. Which was fine. No, really it’s fine. Lizzie doesn’t want to spend the holidays with her bossy older sister anyway.

It might’ve been nice to be wanted though. Not that Lizzie will admit that.

Her younger sister, Cath, is somewhere in Los Angeles trying to make it as an actress. She’s not entirely successful since she hits up Lizzie for money every few months, but Lizzie did spot her in an episode of FBI: Most Wanted, as a bystander running from an exploded building, so she supposes that’s a start.

Needless to say, spending any sort of holiday time with her family is a non-starter.

And something about the life she’s living in Phoenix isn’t making her happy any more, so she’s more than happy to pack up and spend some time in Utah with Sean. He can’t really do anything physical that would set his shoulder rehab back, but maybe she can convince him to come along to the slopes anyway and sit in front of a fire while she skis.

Her flight is announced and she hefts her carry-on to her shoulder and treks down a few gates to stand in line and scan her boarding pass. It’s a packed flight and of course she’s wedged into a middle seat, fighting for elbow room. Closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths - she hates meditating and has never been good at it - Lizzie clamps her AirPod Maxes over her ears and tunes out everything around her until the plane lands at LAX.

Where she’s greeted by another flight delay because of bad weather in Salt Lake City.

Honestly, fuck Gary Bettman and Alex Meruelo. Life had been much easier when the Coyotes and Sean were in her neighborhood and not a nightmare travel day away.

When she finally lands in Utah, Lizzie nearly sprints off the plane and books it for the Enterprise kiosk so she can pick up her rental car. They upsell her on a Chevy Tahoe that’s probably way too big for her to drive, but has excellent capabilities for snow driving, per Andy at the desk, so Lizzie figures better safe than sorry. As a Maryland native, she’s no stranger to driving in snow, but it’s also been a good eight years since she had to do it regularly.

Last year, when she visited her mom and stepdad in Boston, Mitch had insisted on driving everywhere, even though Lizzie was twenty-five and more than capable of navigating her mother’s Hyundai through the streets.

When she emerges from the airport, the Tahoe’s keys jangling in her gloved hand, Lizzie gasps at the sudden hit of cold air. It’s crisp and clean and it hurts her face in the best possible way.

Phoenix is great, but there’s nothing like the cold weather to get her in the mood for Christmas.

She wrangles her two (overstuffed) suitcases and carry-on into the Tahoe and plugs Sean’s address into the built-in GPS. He lives just fifteen minutes from the airport, but since it’s still actively snowing, Lizzie is barely going thirty miles an hour and it takes her thirty minutes to get to his house.

“Oh thank god,” she mutters, spotting his car in the driveway. It occurred to her about ten minutes into the drive that he might not actually be home. It’s nearly nine thirty at night, so odds were good that he’d be home but wouldn’t that just have been the cherry on top of her day? Having to sit in Sean’s driveway in her rented car because he was out of the house.

As she pulls her car in behind his, Lizzie sees the curtain in the front window shift and a smile stretches across her face, excitement bubbling in her stomach. She hasn’t seen Sean since the Utah home opener in October - there was no way she was missing that piece of both NHL history and Sean Durzi personal history - and she’s missed him a lot.

Lizzie leaves the luggage behind and makes her way carefully through the snow covering the walkway to the front door. Sean already has it open and he’s backlit in the doorway, but Lizzie can see the confused expression on his face.

“Surprise!” She squeals, giving him excited jazz hands. “I’m imposing myself upon you and staying through the New Year.”

It takes a minute to click, Lizzie’s pronouncement, but when it does, Sean shakes his head and laughs, stepping back so she can come inside. “You’re so lucky I decided not to go out tonight,” he grins, opening his arms for a hug. Lizzie steps into his embrace, puffer coat and all, squeezing him around the middle. Sean’s chin comes down to rest on top of her head and something that was missing clicks into place.

“I legit just had that same thought as I drove up,” Lizzie laughs, shedding her coat, hat, and gloves. She kicks her boots off and lets them fall in a pile next to Sean’s sneakers at the front door. “But then I figured that you’re a giant loser so where else would you be except at home.”

She smirks at him and Sean pushes at her shoulder, deadpanning a laugh. “Ha,” he snarks. “Why are you getting unbundled? I’m not getting your shit from the car. I’m injured, in case you forgot.”

“Okay, bullshit,” Lizzie shoots back, even as she pulls her boots back on. “You’re in the actively rehabbing stage and are more than capable of lifting my suitcases.”

Sean hands Lizzie her hat. “Are they under forty-five pounds? Because I have limitations,” he says the last word like it’s a four-letter one, nose wrinkling up in disgust.

Lizzie’s mouth snaps shut on her response. Because no, her bags aren’t under forty-five pounds and in fact both of them have bright orange tags with the bold black HEAVY lettering. In her defense, winter clothes take up a lot more space than summer clothes. Boots, sweaters, jeans - all heavier than shorts and tank tops.

“That’s what I thought,” Sean laughs. To his credit, he shoves his feet into his sneakers and follows Lizzie out to the car, whistling when he sees the Tahoe. “Did you not have to tell the rental people how you nearly had your license revoked with all the points you racked up?”

He hoists Lizzie’s carry-on out of the trunk and over his good shoulder, leaving her to handle the two roller suitcases. She can’t blame him, not when he’s just following his rehab plan.

“They don’t ask about past infractions,” she informs him huffily, dragging her bags through the snow. “How aren’t you cold?”

Sean’s shoulder lifts in a shrug under his sweatshirt. “I’m used to it I guess? It’s not even that cold right now,” he stomps the snow off his sneakers before heading back inside and Lizzie does the same.

Once everything is inside and the door is shut behind them, Lizzie exhales roughly, finally feeling like she can relax. Her shoulders slump and she feels her spine curl as she slouches, one hip popped to the side. Her mother is somewhere in Boston, cringing because she can feel Lizzie’s terrible posture from a country away.

“Well, I’m not,” she shivers, the residual cold making its way through her body. Sean rolls his eyes at her and reaches out to roughly rub his hands up and down her arms, making her laugh more than it warms her up.

Through laughter, Lizzie manages to say, “that’s not working! I’m still freezing.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughing and not pouting about it,” Sean points out with a grin. He gives Lizzie’s arms one more up and down rub before letting his hands drop to his sides. “I hope you packed warm because it’s literally only going to get colder.”

“Whatever I forgot,” Lizzie smirks, “I’ll steal from your closet, Seanie.” She wanders off into the kitchen and makes herself comfortable, finding a glass and pouring herself some water. Sean trails after her and takes a seat at the kitchen island, propping his chin on his palm. He stares at her and she wrinkles her nose at him.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Lizzie swipes her hand over her cheeks, feeling nothing.

Sean shakes his head. “Nah, sorry. Just trying to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here,” he shrugs, the corner of his mouth ticking up slightly. “It’ll be nice to have someone else ratting around the house with me.”

“I don’t rattle,” Lizzie leans her forearms on the counter, “I’m young and vibrant and not depressed, like someone else I know.”

“I’m not depressed,” Sean counters quickly. Too quickly. His mouth tries for a convincing smile, but ends up in a grimace. Lizzie winces.

“That’s not convincing at all,” she deadpans. “We’re gonna work on that while I’m here.”

Sean raises an eyebrow and Lizzie lets her face morph into a bright smile, forcing it bigger and more exaggerated until he cracks, laughing at her with a genuine smile on his face. “C’mon,” he slips off the stool and makes a ‘come here’ gesture with his hand, “let’s get you some dinner. I bet you haven’t eaten in a minute.”

Lizzie’s stomach rumbles before she can answer and Sean smirks at the embarrassed, sheepish look on her face. “Knew it!” He crows, pulling open the fridge and rummaging around. Lizzie keeps up a string of chatter, filling him in on the things he’s missed back in Phoenix, until Sean deposits a Scooby Doo sandwich in front of her, icy glass of water dripping with condensation.

“I can’t eat all of this,” Lizzie says, picking up the hulking sandwich as she protests. A tomato slips out and lands on the plate with a wet plop. Sean snags it and pops it in his mouth, chewing quietly.

“I’ll finish what you don’t eat,” he rolls his eyes at her. Lizzie should’ve known that since Sean’s been her leftovers garbage disposal since the day they met.

She manages half of the sandwich before a yawn cracks at her jaw and the adrenaline of her trip wears off. Lizzie tucks one leg up underneath her and watches Sean polish off the sandwich. She’s always been a little bit in awe of how he can eat at any time of day and keep going. Her late night dinner is sitting in her stomach and making her sleepy.

“Guest room’s clean,” Sean ushers her upstairs with one hand between her shoulder blades. “Get some sleep and we can discuss your itinerary tomorrow.”

“I don’t have an itinerary,” Lizzie protests half heartedly, stumbling over her feet so Sean has to catch her around the waist and steady her. His hand is warm through the thin fabric of her shirt and she shivers a little. His fingers flex on her waist.

“Bullshit,” Sean laughs, pushing open the guest bedroom door for her. “You definitely have an itinerary. And lucky you, once I’m done with PT for the day, I usually have no plans.”

Lizzie ignores the bitterness lacing his tone - she’ll have to cheer that right out of him. The injury had taken a toll on Sean’s attitude, knowing that he was missing the first season they’d ever play in Utah. Besides that, Sean’s never been one to sit still.

“I will neither confirm nor deny the existence of an itinerary,” Lizzie replies, faux-haughtily. “Besides, I’m visiting you so you really should be the one to entertain me.”

Sean leans against the doorframe, looking slouchy and comfortable. “Liz, I didn’t know you were coming. If you want plans, you gotta give me some notice,” he kicks a foot in her direction, lazy.

“Consider this your notice,” Lizzie kicks back, making brief contact with his socked foot. “I want to be entertained.”

“We’ll see,” Sean pushes her shoulder gently. “Get some rest, Liz. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Sleep comes quickly and morning comes even quicker. Lizzie tumbles out of Sean’s guest bed in a cloud of bed head and jaw cracking yawns to find him bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the kitchen counter. He’s fully dressed in jeans and a sweater and Lizzie’s heart does a funny little twist while she watches him make eggs at the stove.

He’s humming to himself and Lizzie doesn’t recognize the song, but she wraps her arms around her stomach and listens quietly, the warm feeling of home washing over her. It’s peaceful until Sean turns and spots her, yelping and dropping the egg covered spatula to the floor, clearly startled.

Lizzie shrieks in an automatic response and Sean nearly nails her in the head with the salt shaker he’s reflexively picked up from the counter and drawn back.

“It’s me!” Lizzie rushes to say, heart beating wildly. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

“Fuck, Liz,” Sean growls, setting the salt shaker back down with a loud clatter. “I think you just took five years off my life. Why were you sneaking around?”

He bends to pick up the spatula and toss it into the sink. Lizzie huffs a breath, “I wasn’t sneaking! I just…was quiet.”

Sean grabs a new spatula and shakes it in Lizzie’s direction, an amused scowl on his face. “You need a bell on your neck,” he teases. “Coffee’s ready to go, just hit the button.”

Lizzie makes an appreciative noise in the back of her throat and jabs at the start button on Sean’s fancy espresso machine, doing a little happy shimmy when the coffee starts brewing. “Did you already do PT today?” She asks, leaning on the counter and picking at the bowl of fruit Sean has out.

“Mhm,” Sean plates up eggs and bacon for both of them. “Bright and fucking early so I have plenty of time in my day to think about all the non-hockey things I get to do.”

“Well,” Lizzie waves her fork in the air, bits of egg falling to the counter, “I’m here to entertain and we all know how terrible of an ice skater I am, so non-hockey things are my specialty.”

Sean manages a faint smile and Lizzie nudges his thigh with her foot. “Seriously,” she continues, “I’m not going to stop until you’re in a better mood. And I’m stubborn as fuck.”

“Yeah, you really are,” he agrees easily. “But okay, we’ll do whatever you want to do. I won’t even complain, well, that much anyway.”

“It’s all I ask,” Lizzie replies with a beatific smile and a sarcastic flutter of her eyelashes.

After breakfast, Sean decides he wants to get in another workout and Lizzie takes the opportunity to get a few hours of work in. She’s knee deep in an Excel spreadsheet when Sean deposits another Scooby-Doo-esque sandwich in front of her, lettuce and tomato hanging out of the bread, cold cuts and cheese stacked cartoonishly high. A small pile of chips are on the plate next to it and he sets a fresh can of Cherry Coke down too. She tries not to think about the warmth that spreads in her chest when she remembers that Sean doesn’t drink Cherry Coke. She has an addiction though and for Sean to have the drink in his fridge means he stopped this morning to pick up a case.

“Thanks,” she beams up at him, chest feeling a little gooey. “My blood sugar was a little low.”

“I know,” Sean laughs, snagging a chip and crunching on it loudly. “I could hear you starting to mutter to yourself and you only do that when you’re getting hangry.”

Lizzie wrinkles her nose at him, but can’t dispute the fact. She shrugs and picks at the corner of the sandwich, pinching off a small bite. There’s chipotle mayo on the bread and she spots a pickle as it slides onto the plate. It’s a perfect sandwich, made exactly to her liking.

And Sean’s probably made her dozens of sandwiches over the course of their friendship, so she doesn’t know why this one is making her heart flutter.

“Eat up, Lizzie,” Sean takes a bite out of one half of the sandwich and finishes his sentence with his mouth full, “time to show you downtown Salt Lake.”

Two hours later, Lizzie’s bundled up against the lightly falling snow and taking two steps for Sean’s every one to keep up. He pauses at the end of the block and waits for her, grinning.

“What?” Lizzie huffs, brushing her staticky hair off of her face. She’s cold, but sweating slightly, and her nose feels frozen. Sean, of course, looks like he belongs in the cold weather with his perfectly flushed cheeks and the dusting of snow bright against the black of his puffer and beanie.

“Nothing,” he says, holding out a gloved hand for her to take. “You just really do not look like you’re enjoying this.”

Lizzie takes his hand and ignores the muffled spark that travels up her arm when his fingers close around hers. This is practical, it’s just so she doesn’t fall behind and get lost.

His fingers squeeze hers and Lizzie squeezes back.

“It’s been a while since I dealt with snow,” she admits. “Phoenix has made me soft.”

“Let’s get you a hot chocolate then,” Sean offers, tugging her gently back into the crowds. Lizzie gets her hot chocolate and they split a pretzel, Sean biting off a chunk straight from the piece in Lizzie’s hand. Salt crystals scatter and a few grains stick to the stubble on Sean’s cheek.

“Messy eater,” Lizzie teases, reaching up to brush the salt from his face. Sean briefly leans into her touch and Lizzie ignores the way his gaze locks on her face, studying her as her face falls into a more neutral expression. He doesn’t say anything, but he takes hold of her hand again as they explore the shops and other offerings of downtown.

The next few days fall into a similar pattern - Sean does his PT, Lizzie does a couple of hours of work, he feeds her and then they explore Utah. They see the Olympic Park and Lizzie hops in a bobsled, screaming her head off the entire ride and falling into Sean’s arms when she climbs out, legs wobbly and adrenaline spiking in her veins.

“Oh my god!” Her eyes are wide and her hands shake a little. “That’s actually insane. Like, I have no idea how athletes do that all the time.”

“We can mark Olympic bobsledding off the future career paths, huh?” Sean teases, tugging at the end of Lizzie’s ponytail.

“Definitely!” She bumps his hip with hers. “I think we can safely take all sports off the table.”

She trips up the stairs as if to punctuate her sentence.

Christmas Eve rolls around and they’ve been inside for two days because it started snowing and didn’t let up. Lizzie’s curled up on the couch with her crochet project on her lap and a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders that she doesn’t need because the fireplace is cracking, letting off plenty of heat. It smells like the gingerbread cookies she’d taken out of the oven half an hour ago and the pine candle she’d dug out of a hall closet.

It feels like home.

“If you spend any more time on the couch, you’re going to fuse with the cushions,” Sean teases from his end of the couch.

“You’ve been here just as long as I have,” Lizzie kicks a foot out to nudge his thigh. “Maybe we both just give up on life and become couch people.”

Sean tips his head back to rest on the arm and Lizzie watches the column of his neck move as he swallows. “I could get on board with that,” he says, shifting his shoulder in a circle.

“Shoulder bugging you?”

“It shouldn’t be,” Sean grumbles. “But the weather fucks with it, I think.”

Lizzie sets her crocheting to the side and pats the couch next to her. “Come here, I’ll give you a really mediocre massage that definitely won’t help,” she laughs and Sean shakes his head, but shifts around anyway and comes to sit closer to her, blanket tangled in his legs. His body radiates heat and Lizzie finds herself subconsciously leaning into him as she settles her hands on his shoulders. He’s broad and warm, muscles jumping under her touch.

They’re both quiet as she works, the noise of ESPN SportsCenter (Sean’s choice) fading into the background. Lizzie’s thumbs dig into the knotted muscles at the nape of Sean’s neck and she can feel his shoulders release some of their tension.

“Feels good,” Sean mumbles, dropping his chin to his chest and changing the angle for Lizzie’s fingers to dig into a different muscle.

She hums a non-response, focused on the faint stripe of paler skin where he’d gotten a haircut and the scent mix of his laundry detergent and soap. Lizzie’s fingers tingle a little and she scratches her nails against the back of his neck, a noiseless laugh slipping past her lips when he shivers.

“Can I ask,” she starts, quietly, “why your family isn’t spending Christmas break out here?”

Sean’s quiet and Lizzie worries that she stepped on a land mine for a minute, until he clears his throat and ruffles a hand through his hair. “I told them not to come,” he admits. “They would’ve wanted to go to a game, you know my mom, she would’ve been all worried about me. I just didn’t feel like dealing with the whole thing.”

“So the only plan before I got here was for you to be miserable alone in the house?” Lizzie asks rhetorically, thumbs still working at a knot in between his shoulder blades.

Sean shifts again and drops his head back against Lizzie’s shoulder, looking up at her with big, puppy dog eyes.

She can’t help herself, she melts.

“Old plan is irrelevant,” he says, smiling a little. “I’m glad you’re here and we’re having a good time, right?”

“Right,” Lizzie replies softly. Her heart pounds in her chest and she doesn’t think before she leans forward and kisses Sean’s temple, a quick graze of her lips more than anything. Her hand slides up from his shoulder and curls over his heart, fingers pressing lightly into his shirt. Sean freezes and Lizzie’s eyes widen when she realizes what she did.

“Liz…” Sean says her name slowly, planting one hand on the edge of the couch to push into a sitting position.

She shakes her head and pats his shoulder. “It’s the heat. Super hot in here, do you want a cookie? Or should we order dinner?”

“I…um…dinner sounds good,” Sean sounds bewildered and falls easily to the side of the couch when Lizzie nudges at his shoulder and practically rolls off the couch. She’s in the kitchen in a few quick strides, putting distance between them. Sean watches her go, eyebrows drawn together over his nose. “Lizzie…” he calls at her back.

“Chinese still good?” She asks, ignoring him. “I know we said it earlier, but if you changed your mind, I don’t mind switching up.” She starts cleaning the counters, transferring the gingerbread cookies from the baking tray to a plate.

Sean gets off the couch too, follows Lizzie into the kitchen and leans his forearms against the counter. “Chinese is still fine,” he says slowly. “But, can we… Lizzie, stop for a second.”

She pauses, crumpling up the tin foil in her hand, a gingerbread cookie hovering in mid-air.

They stare at each other wordlessly, the tension in the air growing thick.

“It was nothing,” Lizzie finally mutters, unconvincingly.

“Then why’d you run away?” Sean counters.

“Because I needed to order dinner,” Lizzie sets the cookie down on the plate with the others.

Sean shakes his head. “No you didn’t,” he squints at her, head cocked. “Can we just…”

“Nope,” Lizzie shakes her head. “It was nothing. I’m drunk.”

“You’re stone cold sober,” Sean snorts a laugh. “We both are. And I want to talk about it.”

“Well I don’t,” Lizzie snaps back. Sean shakes his head and steps closer to her, her heart jackrabbiting in her chest. “There’s nothing to talk about, Sean.”

“But what if there is?” He takes another step closer to her and Lizzie finds herself chewing at her lower lip, leaning closer to him. “I meant what I said before, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed you and I don’t think I realized just how much until you showed up on my doorstep.”

The air crackles between them and Lizzie nods reflexively, words caught in the back of her throat because something’s changing and she’s powerless to stop it. She doesn’t think she wants to stop it, even if she could.

“Tell me to stop right now if I’m out of line. Tell me to stop, Liz, and I’ll stop. I’ll go right back to the couch and we’ll order dinner and we’ll never talk about it again,” Sean says, finally closing the gap between them and lifting a hesitant hand to cup Lizzie’s cheek.

She leans into his touch instinctively, her breath puffing a soft sigh against his palm. Lizzie stares up at him with searching eyes and Sean maintains eye contact, refusing to look away from her as he studies her face for a hint.

“Sean,” she murmurs his name softly, lifting up on her toes, “you’re not out of line, but…”

Lizzie can’t verbalize her fears, her worries that this will ruin their friendship. It’s so easy being with him and she doesn’t want to lose that.

“I know,” his mouth ticks up at the corner, his eyes softening, “it’s supposed to be scary as shit, right? But you’re my best friend and it’s not scary at all, because it’s you.”

Her breath catches in her throat and Sean leans in closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He whispers, his breath a warm brush of pepperminty air on her cheek.

All Lizzie can do is nod and then Sean’s mouth is on hers, warm and soft and perfect. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck, holding her upright as she kisses him back. He tilts her head with the hand on her face, his other hand finding her hip and pulling her close.

Lizzie’s been kissed before, felt the butterflies and the drumbeat of anxiety in her chest, felt the kick of adrenaline in her veins or the pit of dread when it becomes obvious that the guy is a bad kisser or there’s no chemistry.

Kissing Sean is like a warm blanket on a cold day, all of her thoughts and worries silenced because it feels so right. There’s no anxiety in her stomach, no sinking feeling of wrongness.

There’s just Sean’s mouth, curving into a grin against hers, his tongue tracing over her lower lip until she parts them slightly for him. There’s his hands on her body, fingers dipping under the hem of her sweater and brushing against her bare skin. There’s his thumb stroking an arc across her cheekbone.

Lizzie leans into the kiss, pressing her body against Sean’s and she lets out a little whimper that’s swallowed up by his mouth. Sean’s hand tightens on her waist and she hates to have to break the kiss, but she’s starting to get lightheaded from lack of oxygen.

She’s breathing hard, fingers still curled around Sean’s neck, when she says, completely breathlessly, “I want you to do that again.”

Sean laughs against her cheek, forehead resting on hers, and he nods. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you let me, Elizabeth Arnold,” he replies, kissing her again, softer this time.

Lizzie’s not sure how long they stand there, arms wrapped around each other, kissing and giggling, but Sean lifts her onto the counter at one point and she can’t stop smoothing her hands from his neck and down to his shoulders, her entire body fizzy and light. Sean’s hands are warm on her lower back and he keeps shaking his head in disbelief, muttering to himself how he can’t believe it’s finally happening.

“What are you saying?” she asks, scratching her nails against his scalp. She’s always been a touchy kind of person, but it feels different now that she’s allowed to touch Sean like this, she can’t keep her hands off of him.

Sean laughs, his smile wide and infectious, and he presses a kiss to her cheek. “I just…I’ve been trying to figure out how to, you know, bring this up. I was going to just plant one on you on New Year’s Eve.”

“That would’ve been a bold move,” Lizzie comments dryly.

“Yeah, well, it was a last ditch effort plan,” he rolls his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it, about us, for a while. And you showing up out of the blue? Felt kind of like fate.”

“I’m really glad I decided to come then,” she leans in and kisses him again. “Maybe I’ll have to change my return flight.”

“Cancel it,” Sean says, eyes twinkling. “Work remote, stay here with me for a while.”

It’s not the worst idea Sean’s ever had and it sounds pretty appealing to Lizzie. More time with Sean is never a bad thing and now that they’ve added kissing? She’d be pretty stupid to go back to Phoenix on the second as planned.

“Okay, yeah,” Lizzie nods, answering with only a few seconds of thought. Despite her surprise trip to see Sean, she’s not a spontaneous person, so this feels crazy, but right. She needs a little spontaneity in her life. “I can probably swing remote work through January? If that’s okay? And then we’ll reassess?”

She can hear how her voice ticks up at the end, making each sentence a question, and she hates how unsure it makes her sound.

Sean cups her face in his hands and she melts at his touch. “It’s more than okay. What do you say about getting back on the couch and making out until dinner gets here?”

“Second best idea you’ve had all night,” Lizzie replies, shrieking a giggle when Sean lifts her into the air to carry her back to the couch.

“What was the first?” He asks, draping his body over hers and dragging the blanket over them so they’re in a warm, cozy pile. His leg slides between hers and Lizzie hooks her leg over his hip, her foot resting on the back of his thigh. Yesterday it would’ve been one of Lizzie’s wildest fantasies to be curled around Sean like this, but right now it feels like she’s been doing it forever.

With a cheeky smirk and already giggling, she replies, “deciding on Chinese for dinner.”

#sean durzi x oc #winter fic exchange 2k25 #sean durzi fic #nhl fic #sean durzi #utah hockey club fic

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jupiter-soups · 2 years ago

Text

guess I should've known from the look on your face

part one of begging for you to take my hand. part two here

pairing: joel miller x f!reader, friends -> enemies -> lovers (kinda)

summary: your tempestous relationship with joel was put to the test after a fuck up on patrol that left you embarrassed and overly defensive. despite every urge to exacerbate the problem, you tried your best to make the most of the situation and get along....mostly.

word count: 7.5k

Despite the ear-splitting gnashing of teeth next to your face and the painful clawing at the raw skin of your décolletage, you couldn’t help that in the back of your mind all you could think was: You fucking moron, you’re going to die in the most embarrasing way possible. Even fear seemed to have left you, as you struggled in the choking grip of the runner in front of you that was desperately trying to sink its teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. All that remained was adrenaline, humiliation, and the sinking feeling that if you were to meet your demise in this moment, it would be Joel Miller, of all people, that found your torn apart frame on the floor. Joel Miller, who had expressly warned you to stay where you were until he returned from checking the back of the building for intruders. Joel Miller, who somehow always made you feel like an incompetent child.

When you had first approached the roadside gas station and small bait shop that was the destination for your current patrol route, both of you had slowed down and pulled out your weapons at the sight of a beat up pick up truck haphazardly parked across the verge separating the gas pumps from the road. This was new, not having been reported by the previous patrol duo. Joel quickly assumed the position of the team leader.

“Stay here. I’ll check the back entrance,” Joel muttered as quietly as he could, still ensuring that he could be heard over the whistling wind from the snow that had been picking up speed since you first departed from the Jackson gates. As the snow crunched under his boots with each receding step, you were seething.

The audacity of this man who had spent the last ten months ignoring you to immediately try and give you orders, you brooded silently. You weren’t even supposed to be here, for God’s sake. It was the unfortunate result of poor scheduling over the Christmas holidays, as well as the skilled persuasion by your closest friend, Maria, that you were even stuck on this patrol to begin with. Sure, it was one of the shorter journeys for patrol pairs, one that only required travel on foot, but that was still a miserable three hours with Joel Miller. Three whole hours of curt answers and second-guessing your decisions. So, the instant he was out of sight, you tucked away your gun into your waistband and folded your arms across your chest, rubbing your ungloved hands against the sides of your arms to try and create some warmth.

The natural instinct in you to piss him off outweighed any logic that you’d previously believed you’d been in abundance of, as you made that decision to ignore his instructions so flippantly as soon as he had turned his back to you. Besides, the truck was clearly empty, the store shutters were undisturbed, and there were no tracks to be seen in the snow that had persistently been coating the floor for days now.

The irritation that only Joel Miller seemed to inspire had clearly blinded you to your next bad decision, as you spotted something through the windshield of the truck. A perfectly intact Spider-Man bobblehead, right there for the taking on the dashboard. Ellie would love that. You exhaled hot air into your icy hands to warm them up as you plodded along to the car, already picturing the teens’ excited face at the impromptu gift. The next few moments seemed to pass in bullet time as you heard it within seconds of leaning into the enclosed space of the front seat. The wind was no longer able to muffle the pained guttural groans.

Grotesque and dripping with congealed blood was an emaciated looking runner, face sunken in and ghoulish. It practically scampered up towards you from the floor of the backseat, moving in jerky convulsions while its teeth bit at the empty air in anticipation. You jumped back from where you had been leaning into the car, arm outstretched for the bobblehead, and your heel promptly made contact with a patch of ice. Your ass hit the ground, shooting a sharp pain through your tailbone that you had no choice but to ignore as you attempted to scramble back up to your feet.

The runner dove head first out from the backseat, the snapping of its jaw seeming to lead its body faster than any of its limbs, giving you the opportunity to send a hard kick directly into its head. Stumbling back up, you were able to grab the handle of your trusty switchblade in the few seconds it took for the beast to reorient itself.

With a quick dart forward, you plunged the knife into the closest spot that would have any sort of impact on its mobility: its kneecap. At least some of your survival instincts were still in place. You made sure to wrench the knife from side to side, a visceral squelching sound being emitted from the tearing ligaments. In a different life the sound probably would have turned your stomach, but now you were just flooded with gratitude that you actually remembered to sharpen the old blade before leaving.

“Jooooeellll!” You felt the scream for help rip out of your throat, and immediately regretted it despite the dire situation. He would not exactly be thrilled at your blatant disregard for his instructions.

The continued effort to stumble back while avoiding any more patches of ice was proving to be successful, until you felt your back slam painfully against the cold metal store shutters behind you. Fuck. You had miscalculated your distance and had nowhere to turn, despite the monster hobbling towards you being slowed down by its new injury. These creatures didn’t feel pain, so regardless of the fact that you could see the white of bone jutting out from the torn flesh of its knee, it continued to progress forward.

Desperately trying to lift your knife from your side while holding the full weight of the beast back with one arm, you were unable to stop yourself from thinking about what Joel would think of you for your mistakes. The blustery air did nothing to cool the heat in your cheeks as you continued to struggle, hating yourself for even thinking of someone like Joel in the face of literal death.

As you were beginning to lose hope, arms shaking from the effort of holding the runner back, strong hands suddenly appeared from behind its shoulders to drag it straight to the ground. You heard a sickening pop as the partially torn leg finally gave out after being heaved backwards at such a strange angle. You were practically hyperventilating, finally feeling time speed up again as you watched Joel take his boot and slam it into the head of the runner, over and over and over again, until all that was left was a puddle of viscera under his foot. The creature was clearly fresh, still more human than mushroom, and pieces of bone and brain matter decorated the floor. You stared, unable to tear your eyes away from the haunting sight.

Joel was breathing heavily as he finally ceased his brutalisation of the corpse, seemingly having decided that what was left of the zombie would probably not be able to get back up. He slowly looked over at you, undisguised rage clouding his handsome features, and he clamped his jaw shut. Any embarrassment that you were still feeling morphed into pure, unbridled shame under the weight of his disdainful look.

“I told you one fucking thing.” Is all he deigned to say. You were glad as you could barely hear him over the pounding in your ears, anyway.

Refusing to give you a second look, he shifted the entirety of his attention to unlocking and lifting the metal roller blocking the door, making it apparent to you that there had been no other threat in the area.

Something like anger and sadness both bubbled up in you simultaneously, and you kept your eyes trained on the ground as you walked to avoid giving him the satisfaction of seeing you upset. As he locked the door behind you both and began looking around the store shelves for something, you pressed your freezing fingers against your face as subtly as you could, trying to physically cool off the burning sensation in your cheeks.

You weren’t a child. You weren’t an idiot. The judgement of this man should not have been hurting you as much as it was, but as much as you insisted that you hated him, some semblance of respect and even care for the man still existed deep within you.

A quick glance up to where he was standing reminded you of something that you had somehow spotted outside, despite the carnage. His boots. Green laces. You were the one to find them for him, ten months ago.

His incessant muttering and pacing were really starting to piss you off. Fine, you made a mistake. Fine, you technically could have died. You were already mortified because of it. Did he really have to keep exhaling so dramatically and making as much noise as possible with each empty crate he moved in his not-so-subtle attempt at finding the supplies that he should definitely know the location of? All you wanted was for him to cease his incessant pacing around the dusty shelves, especially since he started to make deliberate eye contact with you over them to send you withering glares.

“Are you done?” You found yourself asking sarcastically from where you were perched on the long disconnected chest freezer pushed against the right wall. You had been fidgeting restlessly with your fingers since you took your seat, trying to calm the slight shake in your hands from the leftover adrenaline.

He lifted his head up from where he now stood, flipping through the worn pages of the log book on the counter. As annoyed as you were, it was hard to deny the way something in your chest still jumped with each brief moment of eye contact.

“Excuse me?” He asked with an exasperated tone, almost as if each word he spoke was physically exhausting him.

“I said,” You finally hopped down from where you were sitting and watching him sulk, and slowly started to take a few cautious steps towards him. A loud creak reverberated out from the rickety old wooden floorboards with each step as you closed the distance between the two of you.

“Are you done? You know, with the whole I'm Joel Miller, I’ve never made a mistake in my life act.” You drawled with an exaggerated Texan accent in your poor imitation of him, feeling emboldened by his increasingly frustrated look. “I fucked up, I know that. You can go right ahead and relax, you’ve already made it very clear that you disapprove.”

He straightened up in one swift movement and threw the pen down against the counter, hands coming down to rest on his hips. Suddenly you felt like a child about to be reprimanded by a teacher.

“Y'know, you’re bein’ awful ungrateful for someone that I could’ve just left there to die.”

It was so typical of him to insinuate that you weren’t as capable or strong as he was, despite the fact that when Joel first arrived in Jackson, you had been the one to show him the ropes. That is, of course, before Joel summarily decided that he no longer wanted to take instruction from you.

It had been a long ten months since that day, and your relationship had become practically non-existent, if not tense and uncomfortable in the few situations you were still forced to interact in. The bond you had built with Ellie meant that there were many days that you had to see him during mornings when you promised to walk her to the schoolhouse. Joel would be sure to give you a polite nod, his Southern manners enduring regardless of the change in your relationship, to which you would roll your eyes or just simply ignore him.

Maria, your closest friend in Jackson, would regularly invite you to dinner with her and Tommy, usually choosing not to warn you that the older Miller brother would be making an appearance. It would take all of your strength to suppress the urge to cuss Joel out at the slightest infraction, knowing that Tommy would be disappointed at how quickly your friendship had disintegrated.

Truthfully, you were well aware of just how petty and immature you were being. You just couldn’t help yourself when you thought about how good things had been before he made his choice to rebuff you. Your friendship had been easy, and caring, and you had even started to feel…things that you hadn’t ever felt for someone before. Pettiness made it easier to shove those feelings away, even if you knew it wasn’t exactly helping your case that you were definitely, totally, unaffected by his rejection.

You had reached the cracked acrylic counter separating you, and you tried to ignore the way his gaze remained trained onto your face as you approached. The quiet anger was visible in his eyes, like he couldn’t even believe your defensiveness when it was so obvious that you were in the wrong. You slammed a fist straight down on the counter, effectively shutting down the part of your brain that would always lose focus at the mere sight of his deep, brown eyes, angry or otherwise. The sharp pain radiating through your hand acted as the physical reminder you needed to keep your anger burning for him to see, rather than letting it falter under the power of his eyes studying you.

“Please,” you rolled your eyes dramatically, “I had the situation firmly under control. I mean, thank you, obviously, it’s not like swooping in like that didn’t help, but don’t act like I wasn’t a second away from killing that thing myself.”

Joel continued to watch you with an incredulous expression across his face, before he chose to merely scoff in response.

“Whatever you say, doll," he said in that low, dismissive tone that you were well acquainted with, before picking the pen back up to continue writing his note in the logbook.

The trait you had grown to hate the most in him was his dismissiveness. As if you weren’t even worthy of his anger, like you were just an incompetent child that he could be done with whenever he chose. It was a trait that was apparently reserved just for you. No matter what you would say to push his buttons, to even get a negative reaction from him, his response was to shut you down and not engage. It exasperated you that that hurt more than if he just yelled at you.

“God, you are the fucking worst, Miller. I’m not just saying anything, alright? I think most people would agree that it was an accurate assessment of the situation. What, do I need to be so fucking touched by your heroism that I’m on my knees with gratitude?” You paused before starting to stammer as you realised the unintended double meaning of what you just said. He clearly also heard the innuendo, if the tightened grip on the pen in his fist was any indication. “I-I mean, like, you’re not a God or…whatever… where I would need to beg for forgiveness at your feet! I fucked up, and you helped, but I would have been fine either way!”

His face betrayed no emotions, just letting you rant at him. You were running out of steam quickly from his lack of response, and your mouth grew dry as you realised that he really had no intentions of participating in your little outburst. It left you, as always, to be the one making a fool of themselves.

“Well, say something!” You insisted, shoving the book out from under his hand, in an attempt to get him to look up from where he was staring. “Say what you really think of me Miller, say why you always have to make me feel like I’m a fuck up.”

He finally moved to slowly close the logbook and place it back under the counter where it belonged, letting you stand there with your chest heaving in anger that was probably disproportionate to the situation. Joel finally looked back down at your face.

Something in his eyes took you off guard. It felt different to how he had ever looked at you before, almost heavy. In your peripheral vision you could see his hand shift across the counter top, gently tracing his index finger across one of the cracks in the acrylic while his eyes slowly scanned over your facial features. They finally settled on your eyes, and you could tell that any trace of visible anger you had in your face had faded away in anticipation for what he was about to say.

‘You could have died. Y’know that right?’ His tone seemed somehow defeated for even having to say the words.

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably as his eyes remained locked on yours, as if he was trying to make you understand something he was saying, something deeper than just the few words he had used. Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your slightly torn shirt as you looked for words. Why did he seem almost…hurt at the thought of something happening to you? Anger or even disappointment would have been explainable, but this was indecipherable to you.

A loud crack echoed through the room suddenly, as some debris outside clanged against metal shutters from the wind. The spell was broken, as you both jumped in place at the disturbance. You decided to take the opportunity to take a small, stabilising, step back.

The only conclusion that you were able to come to about his statement was that he felt guilty. Maybe he thought that you were under his responsibility while you patrolled together, and that he somehow failed? You immediately balked at the thought of Joel somehow feeling responsible for you, as if he thought you couldn’t handle it outside of the walls by yourself.

“I know that I could have died”’ You swallowed bitterly.

You tap the hand still on the counter against the grimy plastic a few times, deliberating whether you should add something else but deciding against it at the last second.

And yet, as you finally walked past him into the staff room at the back of the store, it slipped out anyway.

“As if that would even matter to you.”

Pushing open the door with some effort, thanks to the rusted hinges, you were greeted with the sight of the supplies that Joel had been working oh-so-diligently at finding, sitting in plain sight on one of two metal storage shelves. The old ham radio that was the reason for you entering the room sat on the small table that took up the corner of the room.

Before reaching to grab the mic, you paused for a second and leaned back against the shut door, taking in a few deep, calming breaths that evaded you earlier. You hated how easily he was able to bring you to anger, how quickly your face would burn with indignation while he was able to remain as unaffected as always. Whatever you had done to inspire this distaste for you must have been unforgivable, given how it seemed to persist enough that he wouldn’t even be able to spend the effort to argue with you.

As you gathered yourself you couldn’t stop your thoughts from drifting back to your somewhat brief, yet impactful friendship with Joel.

He had shown up just over a year ago, Ellie in tow, and you had immediately accepted them with open arms. You were one of the lucky ones, finding Jackson with your two siblings while you were still in your mid twenties. Having almost ten years of safety and community was enviable to many of those who showed up in Jackson. It was your awareness of this fact that encouraged you to work harder and longer hours than the vast majority of those tasked with the safety of Jackson. It was the least you could do, after all, and if you were able to do anything that would spare the added trauma for those that had barely scraped their way into safety, you would do so with a smile.

Joel and Ellie weren’t the first to arrive at the gates hardened and traumatised at the brutality beyond the gates, and you pitied them. It didn’t come from a place of patronization. They were both clearly strong, physically and emotionally, for surviving what they had. But watching the weary look in their eyes at the comforts you had begun to take for granted had you wishing that the world had been kinder to them.

By the end of the first week, Tommy insisted that you take Joel on as a patrol partner. He felt that Joel making a friend could soften him up a bit, maybe even break down a couple of the walls that locked out everyone but Tommy and Ellie. Besides, he teased Joel, who else was patient enough to teach an old man like him the proper way to do things?

You soon found yourself spending all of your spare time with him and Ellie. Between instructing Joel about how to most effectively utilise their horses when facing small groups of raiders, to lounging on their couch as Ellie demanded that he let her get a tattoo for the millionth time, the two became fixtures in your life. As always, Joel’s answer would be a firm not until you’re eighteen to which Ellie would stomp off to the garage, leaving you both chuckling in her wake.

Joel appeared to like your presence. The one-word answers he had given you at the start or your relationship quickly shifted into full conversations. He always furrowed his brow with put-on disapproval when you tried to teach him your lesson of the week, before, like clockwork, admitting that your methods weren’t too shabby. He even regularly took your advice when it came to Ellie, valuing your input that Ellie was old enough to rebel a little bit.

Ellie had been so grateful when he finally allowed her to resume hanging out with her new friends following the weed incident, that she gave both of you a huge bear hug. The smile gracing Joel’s face for the rest of the day made your knees feel weak, especially whenever he directed it at you in gratitude for your advice. The embarrassed laugh that followed when you teased him about his own teenage years, courtesy of a drunk Tommy babbling at you one evening, resulted in you needing to grip onto the kitchen counter next to you for strength.

The third month of your friendship brought with it disapproving shakes of the head from Maria everytime she caught you looking at him for a second too long. You would promptly shrug and make a confused face to indicate that she was the one being weird for even implying that you might have been getting attached.

Family dinners and boozy evenings in the Tipsy Bison continued on a regular basis. Joel was still himself. Gruff and slightly mean towards anyone that wasn’t Ellie or Tommy, but he would laugh at your jokes. Really laugh, in a way that made warmth radiate through your chest and into your fingertips. The elbow nudges that Tommy would give to you in response were a lot less accusatory than Maria’s looks, merely appreciating that Joel had somebody to make him laugh. Ellie had been the one to change him, letting Joel give himself permission to feel joy again, but damn if it didn’t make Tommy relieved to see Joel allow himself that with other people too.

Whenever you would find small things outside the wall that you thought he could use, he would accept with a small smile, rather than immediately rejecting it with a short “I have everythin’ I need.”

Even on days that he wouldn’t be on patrol with you, you would find him at the stables, just coincidentally with an extra thermos of coffee in hand despite his insistence that he just had to check in with the stable workers.

It was these small moments that made you realise that you were falling for him. As much as you wanted to shy away from those feelings, wanting to avoid the potential awkwardness of rejection, you had almost convinced yourself that he was starting to feel the same way. There was something about the way his hand lingered when he boosted you onto your horse, or when he would wrap an arm around you for warmth the second you dared to shiver in his presence.

This delusion came crashing down one summer evening five months into your friendship, as you entered the Tipsy Bison and were immediately pulled aside by Tommy, before you even had a chance to raise a hand in a wave at the table where Joel sat with Ellie and her friend, Cat. Tommy quietly explained to you in the corner of the room that you were no longer patrolling with Joel, effective immediately. He grimaced at your attempt at protest, and even more so when you asked when he was going to tell Joel. The immediate suspicion at this reaction was quickly confirmed when you looked over Tommy’s shoulder at Joel, who was watching the pair of you intently before quickly shifting to look back at the teens sitting in front of him. His face said it all. This was his choice.

You decided to let Tommy off the hook with a quiet, “I understand,” before stalking out of the bar, shoving past the multiplying crowd that tried to funnel inside.

After a few days of trying and failing to catch him alone between shifts on patrol, you were finally able to grab Joel by the arm and physically pull him aside on his porch as he tried to enter his home late one evening. His refusal to even look at you acted as the fuel you needed to begin your aggressive diatribe.

‘What the fuck, Joel?” You asked, unable to stop your leg from bouncing while you stood.

“Did you need something?” Was his curt response, face hard and so deeply unlike the way he would typically look at you.

“Why did you want to switch partners? Did I do something wrong?” The wobble in your voice betrayed the hurt you had tried to tuck away inside of you, and you suddenly felt incredibly silly for confronting him. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me? I was having dinner with you and Ellie literally the night before. And you’ve been avoiding me since then.”

He seemed to think through his response carefully before speaking. The warm brown eyes that you were accustomed to were almost black, and his brows were tightly furrowed as he spoke. “Thought it’d be easier to get Tommy to pass the message along. He’s always been the more cordial type. Didn’ think it needed to be a whole thing.”

He started to unlock his front door, back turning to you as he continued.

“I jus’ felt that things were getting a little too cosy over here. I know what I need to know when patrolling, and I sure as hell don’t need any more hand holding from someone who’s barely known a life that wasn’ all…soft and easy.”

The door opened to the dark hallway and he stepped in and grabbed something from the console table by the door. It was your purple fleece blanket, the one that you, Joel, and Ellie had been sitting under just a few nights ago while watching one of Joel’s favourite westerns. He shoved it towards your hands. “There, been meanin’ to get that back to you. No need to drag this out any longer.”

Your jaw clenched as you stared at the blanket, quickly snatching it from him as the embarrassment flooded your body. How could you have let yourself think that he actually wanted you here with him?

“Y’know what, Joel. Fuck you.” You said with a sniff. You quickly turned and walked away, refusing to give him an opportunity to respond.

After throwing the soft blanket in the coat closet of your home haphazardly, you decided to head straight to the Bison for a strong drink. The first good looking man with brown eyes and broad shoulders that you saw ended up taking you home, in the first of your many attempts to extricate your feelings from Joel.

A scraping noise from the other room brought you back, reminding you that you had a task at hand, and with a click of the button on the small handheld mic, you spoke.

“Jackson, this is the bait and tackle shop, checking in.” While you waited for a response from Jackson, you sat on an old stool and angrily picked at the loose threads hanging from the ripped hem of your shirt. Stupid Miller, making you feel inferior and indebted to him. Not even giving you the decency of fighting with you.

At least a conversation with Alfred, the kindly old man who took the late shift for the radio office in Jackson, always made you feel better. His old war stories of encrypting and sending radio signals got you through many lonely evenings at the Tipsy Bison, and he had become sort of a grandpa-like figure to you.

“Hey there, birdie, we hear ya.” You heard some paper moving, as he shuffled through to find the appropriate area map. “Snow’s getting pretty bad out here, it’s looking like you’re going to need to buckle down and wait it out for the morning. It’ll be a longer walk than usual with the way the wind is whipping up the snow.” No, no, nope. Not happening.

You bolted up and leaned over the table with the radio, as if it was possible that you had merely heard him wrong and getting closer to the speaker would fix things.

“No, Alf, it’ll be fine, I can’t stay here overnight with-’’ You cut yourself off, suddenly aware of how loud you were talking and let out a long suffering sigh. “It’s just. The snow’s not that bad, we’ll probably be fine walking back.”

Alfred makes some deliberation noises, unnecessarily keeping his mic on the whole time as if he thought it would make you feel better that he was actually considering it, before finally responding.

“I don’t know, kid…I would feel guilty if you froze to death out there. I know you don’t get along too well with that Miller boy.” Alfred hesitates once again, before sighing. “I’m sorry, dove, I can’t let you walk in this weather.”

You groaned dramatically into the microphone, rubbing your spare hand across your eyes wearily. With a quick peek at the shut door in front of you to check for shadows through the frosted glass that might indicate that Joel is listening, you lowered your tone to what seemed like a sufficiently quiet level, and continued.

“I just. I fu-” you paused, remembering the old man's dislike for sailor talk. “I made a mistake. Everything's fine, no one is hurt! Just. He's doing that thing where he makes me feel like an idiot. And it just sucks because it’s like I proved him and his stupid doubts about me right. I hate when he’s right.”

“Birdie, you know that you're not an idiot. You do the same job as him, and I can tell you from experience that you don't call back to Jackson with any more issues on the road than he does. Who cares what that silly boy thinks about you? More importantly, are you going to let it get in the way of doing a good job?”

You let a small smile pass onto your face. He knew you well, and your bruised ego for the earlier mishap was already painful enough without adding any more unprofessionalism into the mix. People in Jackson relied on you, and you wouldn’t let a man who clearly didn’t think about you more than he needed to to get into your head.

“You’re right, Alf. If you say we need to hang out here overnight, we can do that.” You made sure to shake off any remaining angst that had uncharacteristically been plaguing you since you first got given this job, and tried to become the person that people in Jackson knew you as. “Just to confirm, we will be utilising the emergency supplies here, so please note down that the food, water, and oil for the lamps will need replenishing by the next pair out.”

You could practically hear the smile on the old man’s face, “Will do, dove. Good night. Don’t kill each other.”

After placing the receiver back in place you take in a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. The herculean task of thanking Miller sincerely and being amicable for the rest of the evening was daunting. It practically made you shudder, but you would be lying if you didn’t acknowledge that there was a part of you excited at the prospect. You missed him, as absurd as that was given your history.

With an armful of sleeping bags, a lamp, a couple of pouches of jerky, and a glass bottle labelled ‘Pete’s- Hands off!’ you exited the staff room, trying to appear as confident as you would be on a typical, Joel-less day. You plopped the items down on the counter unceremoniously, looking up to find him now sitting on an old camping chair in the darkness. Barely any moonlight made it through the thin gaps of the shutters, so you focused your attention on lighting the lamp, ignoring the weight of his stare on your form as you did so.

“Heads up,” you called out a moment later, quickly grabbing and tossing a pouch of jerky at him. The trajectory of the throw was mostly aimed towards his hands, but you did use a careless flick of the wrist that would have absolutely resulted in it smacking against his body if his reflexes weren’t annoyingly good for his age.

The lit lamp that you placed on the floor between you and Joel brought the room into a softer state, and you could see that the earlier anger on Joel’s face had at least partially subsided. You dragged an old crate that once held fishing lures and flipped it, sitting down to his left hand side, before opening your own pouch of jerky and digging into the stale meat.

"So," You began hesitantly, lifting your eyes from the floor to where he sat, feeling a pang of an emotion you didn’t want to identify when you found him already looking at you. "I guess I just wanted to say thank you. Properly. For saving me, or whatever. I shouldn’t have approached the car without backup."

If it hadn’t been so awkward, you probably would have been laughing at his incredulous face, eyebrows lifted upwards in shock at your sudden attempt at sincere appreciation. When it became clear that you weren’t waiting to attack again, he finally spoke up.

"It’s alright. Could have happened to anyone, I suppose." He seems almost unsettled at your sudden shift in attitude, but also doesn’t seem to want to provoke you again.

You bit back any part of you that wanted to emphasise that it really could have happened to anyone, even with experience, and instead focused on chewing the tough meat. It was surprising to say the least, when Joel was the first one to speak again.

"Why did you, though? Tommy say something about needing another vehicle?" Joel’s tone was hesitant, as if he felt he shouldn’t be continuing the conversation any further.

"Oh. Um. No, I wasn’t going to check on the car. I just saw a bobblehead on the dash. Spider-Man. I thought Ellie might have liked it." Your eyes narrowed as you looked at Joel, expecting him to start on you again. What you didn’t expect was the short laugh that followed. It was nice, and you couldn’t help the small smile in return at your own expense.

"Spider-Man, huh? What a reason to risk getting bit." He passed you the final stick of jerky from the pouch he was holding as he spoke. A peace offering. With a wipe of his hands against his jeans, he continued. "Y’all are still close, aren’t you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Your leg bounced at the use of the term ‘still.’ As in, despite everything between us. You batted that thought away quickly. The friendship between you and Joel had crashed and burned after he decided that he couldn’t work with you anymore, but Ellie had only seemed to latch on tighter. Whenever you pointed out that he didn’t seem to think you were worth getting to know, Ellie would roll her eyes at you.

"Yeah, I guess we are. Is that a problem?" You said while shifting in your seat, knowing that he probably would be well within his rights to tell you to stay away from his child. "Because I can tell you right now that despite her insistence, I’ve refused to teach her how to throw knives, at least not until she turns sixteen-"

"What? No. Should I be concerned?" He cut you off with a concerned look on his face.

Realising that you may have just given Ellie up, you fake a laugh that Joel could have believed if he hadn’t heard your real laugh so many times before.

"No, of course not. That was just a hypothetical." He continued to stare you down, resulting in you giving in more quickly than you were proud of. "Don’t….tell her I told you that."

He gave you an actual laugh at your desperate plea, a sound you hadn’t heard for almost a year. That familiar warmth in your chest and fingertips returned at the sound, and you found yourself chuckling too. Thoughts of all of the times that he would begrudgingly break when you teased him, despite insisting that you weren’t funny rushed through your mind. And how he would threaten to sic Ellie on you whenever you teased him for his achy knees. And how tight your chest would feel when he would look at you over from on his horse while you rode beside each other. As if…No. Nope. Those memories had been securely tucked away in the back of your mind for months now, and you sure as hell were not going to let them out after a year of getting nothing from him.

You forced the smile off of your face in an instant and stood up somewhat abruptly.

"I-uh, found something in the supplies!" The broad grin you plastered on was an attempt at masking your strange behaviour, but, frankly, a smile from you aimed at Joel was strange enough in of itself.

Joel watched as you grabbed the glass bottle and lifted it into the air with a little shake to show it off.

"It’s fucking cold in here. This’ll warm us right up!" You said as you uncorked the bottle and immediately tossed back a healthy swig of the mysterious clear liquid. Yep, definitely moonshine. And yes, definitely strong.

A couple of drinks in, and things had already become so much easier between you two. Not only were you both warmer, in spite of the blizzard on your doorstep that was making your breath visible in the air, but you were both laughing freely.

"And then, he takes the shot and the bullet whizzes by, easily fifteen feet from the deer! The way that smug look dropped off of his stupid face…" You trailed off, cheeks slightly reddened from the alcohol that was far stronger than even the typical homemade stuff back at the Tipsy Bison. Whoever brewed this batch clearly anticipated the need for the strongest shit possible in a bottle small enough to fit in an emergency supply cache, and for that you were appreciative.

You were sitting on the floor,, one knee up and your back against one of the empty shelves that once held fishing rods. The crate you had been sitting on now held your winter coat, inadvisably discarded due to the sudden heat you felt. Joel sat back in his chair, a far sight more relaxed than he was a mere hour ago. He was chuckling at your mockery of Emmett, your current patrol partner who was definitely a beginner at hunting.

Joel’s shadows danced across the dark room as he lightly shook from the laughter, illuminated by the cheap oil lamp that sat in front of you, and you watched with a dazed grin. His presence used to be a comforting one for you, and seeing his shape fill up a room again made you feel strangely at peace. With the gift of alcohol in your system, it was easy to ignore the painful familiarity that came from being with him like this. You bring your chin over to rest on your raised knee as you look up at him while he speaks.

"That boy definitely has too big of a mouth for his own good. I heard him out in the Bison a week or so ago, going off at a couple of the other guys about how he’s always pullin’ all these different ladies." He shook his head in disapproval while bringing the bottle back up to his lips, taking a generous drink.

"Oh yeah? He say anything about me?" You couldn’t help yourself from asking with a teasing grin. Just the previous week you had to turn Emmett down after he insisted that he could show you a good time. He was a handsome young man, but his age and his use of the term ‘older ladies’ when describing his type made it clear that he would be too annoying to even spend one night with. Besides, you were only in your early thirties, and the thought of being with someone that considered that ‘older' made you physically cringe.

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "You into him? I didn’ take you for the type that would want a…pretty boy." He says derisively while picking at the label on the bottle.

You were momentarily distracted by the flex of his calloused fingers against the bottle before snapping out of it to respond, "Eh, I guess you don’t know me that well, then do you, Miller?"

His fingers froze in place and he looked at you humorlessly, causing you to awkwardly laugh and acquiesce "Nah, of course not. He just keeps pulling stupid shit to try and impress me. I had to finally put my foot down the other day and tell him that him wasting ammo on trick shots wasn’t gonna let him into my pants."

Joel let out a small breath that sounded sort of like a laugh but not quite, as he resumed picking at the crumbling label and confirming "I s’pose that means you aren't the cougar he was seeing, then?"

A dramatic gasp escaped your lips. "That son of a bitch! Oh, I am going to give him hell next week. No wonder his little buddies have been givin’ me weird looks recently."

Joel laughed for real that time and you were unable to help yourself from relaxing back against the shelf at the sweet sound.

"I don't know why they would partner you with someone like that," he chuckled, reaching over to finally pass you the bottle that he had been holding.

As you grabbed the bottle, your fingers briefly brushed and you sensed him tense slightly. This action, combined with his previous statement, made your stomach feel weird. The alcohol bypassed the part of your brain that was screaming at you to shut up, things are going well! and you found yourself saying, "Well, I guess they did that so I could teach him a coupl‘a things. Some people benefit from a little hand holding, I guess."

You trained your stare into Joel’s eyes, feeling a sick sense of satisfaction at the way his face fell at you directly addressing how you were once partners.

Quiet taps of your fingernail against the side of the cool glass bottle resting in your hand fill the room while he seems to look for words. Something about your statement caught him off guard, as if he somehow didn’t think that you would remember or care about his words. Realising this unsettled him, and you revelled in the glimpse of vulnerability that appeared across his face.

"I s’pose that makes sense." He finally acknowledged, looking deeply uncomfortable at the way you continued to stare at him bitterly.

"I guess it does."

A few more beats passed in silence as you waited with bated breath for anything, an acknowledgment, an apology, hell, even another insulting explanation for his choices, anything, but it didn’t come. You let out a quiet sigh, placing the bottle on the floor as you stood and dusted off your pants.

"I think I’m gonna call it a night, Joel."

He nodded without a word, eyes remaining stuck at the point on the ground where you had been sitting. Rather than waste your time waiting for anything else from him, you turned and grabbed one of the thin sleeping bags that sat on the counter, walking over to the side of the room furthest from where Joel was still sitting and rolling it out in one quick move.

Now that you were far away from the heat he naturally seemed to radiate, the cold suddenly felt a lot more biting against your skin. You crawled into the sleeping bag, rolling to face the wall and pressing your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to just fall asleep and get this confusing evening over with. The last thing you heard before you dozed off was a quiet, defeated sigh from the opposite side of the room.

a/n: nobody look at me rn okay, i'm juST TRYING SOMETHING OUT!!!!! okay. well. this the first fic i've written and it's looking like it's gonna be 3 parts. please give me any kind of feedback!!!

also a huge collosal thank you to @sinsofsummers for helping me SO MUCH and generally being the most incredible human angel creature to walk the earth with endless patience

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #IDK WHAT I'M DOIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG NOBODY JUDGE ME

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