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jayteacups · 5 months

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It's A Wrap!

Working on Attack on Titan as a makeup artist has irreversibly changed your life. As the end rapidly approaches, you find that letting go is harder than you’d thought. After years of harbouring feelings for Levi that you can’t divulge, his final day on set arrives. You know it’s time to say goodbye to him and part ways—but maybe you don’t have to.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Tags & warnings: Actor!Levi, Makeup artist!Reader, fluff, confessions, friends/idiots to lovers, alcohol consumption, briefly implied sexual content, AOT finale spoilers

Word count: 6.9k words

A/N: I’m back, happy Levi month everyone! I wrote this over the last month to cope with the fact AOT was ending and also life stuff. This is incredibly self indulgent, also I would love to tell more stories and scenarios in this AU, so this probably won’t be the last one-shot I write for actor!Levi and MUA!Reader hehehe. Disclaimer that I don't work in film or TV or makeup, sorry if there are any inaccuracies. Also please forgive me for the uncreative title, lol. Hope you enjoy the fic!

Levi’s last day on set is bittersweet.

For the final time, you lean against the wall and count down the seconds on your watch. The trailer door swings open to reveal the man of the hour. On par for the course, Levi arrives fifteen minutes on the dot before his scheduled arrival time. He’s holding his usual steaming flask of tea in one hand, with a nondescript rucksack (save for a Badtz-Maru keychain gifted to him from the Sanrio collaboration) slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” you greet him, pushing off from the wall, moving towards him like a moth to flame. He sets down his things in the sitting area and meets you halfway, letting you pull him into your arms. After years of working alongside each other, you’ve both grown accustomed to greeting each other like this in private, especially after the stress the two of you had put yourselves under during the Season 3 shoots.

“How are you feeling? It’s your last day.” You ask him as the two of you part. To your dismay, you’re already missing the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to get all sappy about it.” His face is placid.

“That’s what Hange said when they filmed their death scene, and we saw how that ended,” you say lightheartedly. Hange had sworn to remain jovial and upbeat throughout their last day, but after seeing the several other actors cry at their phenomenal acting, they had promptly broken down. “And I bet you anything that Eren’s going to say that when he and Mikasa do the cabin scene next week, and we all know he’ll be the first to start crying and the last to stop.”

Levi rolls his eyes before he enters the wardrobe area, but you know he’s not serious. “If you think I’m going to break down in tears like Hange and the kids did, you’re dead wrong,” he continues, out of sight.

You smile. “Sure. It’s alright, you know, if you do end up crying. It’s an end of an era, we’re all going to get emotional.”

A few moments later, Levi emerges in costume, sans the bandages. He sits down in front of the mirror at the vanity table. “Yes, but I’m satisfied with what I’ve done here, and I have no regrets,” he muses out loud, continuing on from before. “And it’s not like I’m done with the show. There’s the wrap party, then the press tour and all that. So don’t expect me to get all worked up today. I’m not saying goodbye to Attack on Titan just yet.” His voice softens towards the end.

But it is goodbye for us, you wish to say. And I don’t want it to be. You haven’t been contracted for any of their press events. After you finish with Attack on Titan, you’ll have a handful of weeks before your upcoming contract for a new show begins. It’s a wonderful opportunity; the show is airing on a major streaming service and requires you to push your SFX skills to the limit. Sasha had been cast in one of the main roles and both Onyankopon and Nifa will make appearances too, so you’ll see some familiar faces on this new project. But selfishly, you aren’t ready to let go and move forward. Selfishly, you aren’t ready to part ways with Levi.

Sure, the two of you will make an effort to talk every now and then. You know him far better than to assume he’ll stop talking to you the moment Attack on Titan is finished; despite him being standoffish at first, it’s clear Levi cares deeply about everybody he’s ever worked with, cast or crew alike. But the chances of your demanding schedules ever lining up again are close to zero, and sooner or later, your frequent messages will fizzle out into a conversation lost to the ages. You’ll drift, until the two of you are strangers once more. It’s inevitable; you’ve seen it happen before with your actor friends from old projects. No doubt it’ll happen again.

You consider addressing the elephant in the room, wondering if it lingers on his mind, too. But instead, you hum in agreement and pass him a headband to hold his hair out of the way. He puts it on, clearly content to not bring it up just yet.

Levi chews on the inside of his cheek as you sort out your equipment on the vanity table. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his lips, which are a little more chapped than usual. It’s clear there is something else that’s bothering him, but you decide to let it go for now. Sometimes Levi just needs to sit with his thoughts for a moment. You’ve learned that being pushed just makes him close himself off even more. A life in the limelight can be unforgiving. Kuchel Ackerman had been the brightest star of her generation, but behind the scenes, her personal life was far from glamorous. It doesn’t surprise you that her son keeps his heart and feelings well-guarded.

As he sits and stews, you apply chapstick and some basic ‘barely-there’ makeup on his face, before creating the illusion of a hard-fought battle by adding a light layer of grime to his face. You’ll add more after the scar and bandages. As you work, Levi takes out a folder from his bag, which is embellished with a small cat sticker that Hange had stuck on years ago. From it, he takes his copy of the script, nary a crease in the sheets. Brow furrowed, he reads it over and over, mouthing his lines with the fervour of a prayer.

Now, that is odd.

“There is something on your mind, isn’t there?” You’ve also read the script for today’s scene. The director had decided to save Levi’s most poignant scene—where his character salutes the ghosts of his fallen comrades—for the very end of his shoot. (Levi’s epilogue scene had been shot a week prior.) This would be his most challenging scene yet, for it would be the first time he and his character will ever cry on screen. “You can tell me if you want. Anything you need to help you focus. There’s still time.” You give him a quick squeeze on his shoulder.

Stormy eyes glance up at his reflection, than up at yours. He puts down the script and sighs, voice subdued. “I just want to do the Captain’s ending justice, and I don’t think I can.”

“I think you can,” you murmur. You gesture for him to close his eyes, and pick up your finest brush. Willing your hand and heart into steadiness, you bring the brush up to his forehead, where the largest scar begins. You’ll never get used to how infuriatingly gorgeous he is. “No. I know you can. There is no doubting just how much you care about portraying him correctly.”

He swallows. “Well, I’ve never cried on camera before.” He stops, giving you a moment to work.

With the utmost care, you begin to draw the main line of the largest scar, the one that passes through his eye and lips. As the brush passes over his eyelid, it twitches ever so slightly, his long lashes tickling your hand. Smiling, you brush away a stray lash that had fallen onto his cheek. As you extend the line down his cheek, you try to reassure him. Levi’s usually so steadfast, but it makes sense that something like this would grow heavy on his mind.

“You’ve been practicing it with your coach, though, right? I mean, I’ve had to cover up your swollen eyes a number of times this season.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The brush reaches his lips. He opens his eyes, looking up at you through lowered lashes. Your heart aflutter, you staunchly ignore any and all thoughts of kissing him. Doing so has become more and more difficult with every passing day. Especially when every now and then, you think you see him glancing down at your lips whenever you lean in close to examine a detail of your work.

It’s more than likely that you’re imagining it, though.

Finally, the brush reaches his chin, finishing the outline of the first scar. You lean back to admire your work. After many instances of painstakingly painting on the scars and agonising over continuity, you don’t have to look at your old reference pictures to know the exact shape and curve of them, down to the millimetre. But you do so anyway, and smile in satisfaction when you compare today’s line to the pictures from the first time you drew them on him for practice. A perfect match.

“I know you’ve been working hard at it,” you continue assuring him, putting down the reference photos. “You’ve definitely come a long way.”

“Yeah, but I’m shit at it, actually. All those times we joked about how Eren would take forever to conjure a single tear every time he needed to cry, and now here I am in the exact same position. He’s going to rub this in my face should he ever find out.” He chews the inside of his cheek again, looking down. “Damn it. Don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m not… I don’t get nervous. I don’t show up to work feeling unprepared. That isn’t me. But today, it is.”

It’s unsettling, to see him so unsure of himself. His nerves are understandable, as he came into the show with more of a stuntman background and little actual acting experience. But anybody who’s worked alongside him could easily tell you just how dedicated he is to improving his craft, and that nobody else could play the Captain with the same quiet subtleties that Levi brings to the screen.

You hope your smile is somewhat reassuring to him. “And that’s okay. You know, crying on command really isn’t easy. I’ve worked with countless actors and many also find it difficult.” In your experience, most actors need a while to work themselves up to cry. The most obvious exception is Armin, who has the unnerving ability to turn it on and off like a light switch. “For you, all you need to do is make one tear out of one eye. You’ve managed to do that before, right?”

He nods, but the firm clench of his jaw and the crease between his brows don’t fade.

“So, it’s nothing that you haven’t practiced. And on the off chance that you can’t do it today, that’s perfectly fine. I have eyedrops in my bag.”

“Yeah, but…” He shakes his head in frustration. “This is going to sound dumb, but it… I don’t know, that feels like cheating. I know you’re thinking I’m being an idiot, and I probably am. I know eyedrops are common practice. It’s just… This is my character’s last moment before the epilogue, and I want it to be real. I don’t want to take the easy way out.”

“No, it’s not stupid. There’s no shame in needing to use eyedrops if you end up not being able to cry today, but it’s really admirable that you want to do it as authentically as possible. I think that since this is your final scene, and so many people are returning this morning, it’ll be easier than usual to muster up those tears.” Reaching for a set of different brushes and paint, you instruct him, “here’s what we’re going to do. I need you to just listen whilst I do the rest of your scars. I don’t want you to get trapped in your head about this, okay? Overthinking will just make it harder to get into character. Isn’t that what you said to Mikasa all those years back? It worked wonders for her. I often forget that this show was her first ever gig, with how good she’s become.”

He scoffs. “Really? You’re using my own words against me?”

“Well, what use is your own advice if you can’t follow it yourself?”

After a moment of hesitation, Levi sighs in defeat and closes his eyes again. “Shit, you’re relentless. Fine, then. I’ll trust you.”

You get to work, drawing the outlines of the second scar parallel to the first, then the smaller ones on his other cheek. As you add in the details, such as the texture of the stitches, you remind Levi of another story that he himself told you. He’d never worked with horses before being cast in this show, and yet was one of the quickest learners. Unsurprisingly so, since he’s incredibly kinaesthetically intelligent. To this day, the cast insists he looks the most at ease atop a horse, only second to Erwin, who actually used to ride in his childhood. You remind him that every single time, his hard work has more than paid off.

Somewhere down the line, you go off topic. Levi makes no move to stop you. In fact, he seems content just to listen to you talk about anything, everything. As the wounds take shape on his face, you reminisce on anecdotes from set, on the time the two of you spent together. With fondness, you recall your first meeting. Back then, you were an lowly assistant on the SFX team, transforming an unassuming man into the wounded soldier who, in his dying moments, listened to the Captain’s vow to eradicate the titans and bring meaning to his sacrifice. You talk about how the two of you grew closer during the filming of the second season, when Levi had a lot more free time to talk. How difficult the third season had been to film due to both of you being spread thin by additional responsibilities.

You skim over that time Levi mentioned you in an interview when asked about a favourite memory on set, and how warm it made you feel. You don’t talk about how you’d genuinely teared up after watching the final cut of the scene where Hange discovers a half-dead Levi by the riverbank, despite knowing that his ‘injuries’ were nothing more than your own handiwork.

And, with your heart clenching painfully, you certainly don’t dare to bring up the almost-kiss at last year’s cast and crew Halloween party.

———

“Cut! Perfect! Aaand that’s a wrap for Levi!”

The set erupts into thunderous applause. You clap heartily alongside the rest of the cast and crew. A deafening symphony of whoops and cheers fills the air, and if not for the growing lump in your throat, you’d join in too.

A standing ovation. Levi deserves it and more. Just as you expected, every angle the director wanted to capture had needed one take each, not a single one more. No eyedrops needed.

From your position, you can see Levi still sitting by the rock. Strangely, he makes no move to get up. Curious as to why, you peer past some crew members that had moved in the way, but you’re greeted with a sight that pulls at your heartstrings. Your eyes sting with new tears.

Curled up by the rock, Levi has his face buried in his hands, his shoulders heaving with quiet sobs.

Something in your chest aches. You knew that he would get emotional at the end—there was no way he wouldn’t, especially considering that his character cried too—but you didn’t expect him to feel so overwhelmed.

On instinct, your feet propel you towards him, but you’re promptly cut off by a few other crew members moving around. Through your rapidly blurring vision, you can only watch as several of the returning cast members rush forward from the smoke. Hange reaches him first, and pulls him into a bone-crushing hug. Erwin is second, kneeling next to the duo and rubbing Levi’s back comfortingly.

Sniffling, you quickly wipe away your tears, remembering suddenly that you still have something to do. Unnoticed, you slip away from set.

There is a tradition amongst the cast that whenever a character dies, the actor receives a bouquet of flowers from the cast and crew. (A size limit had to be enforced after a very emotional Gabi had presented Sasha with a bouquet so large it couldn’t fit through the trailer door.) For this final season, the tradition has expanded to gifting the actor a bouquet when they wrap, for the characters that survive all the way to the very end.

The door to Connie’s trailer is unlocked when you arrive, just as he said it would be. Inside, you find a vase full of vibrantly coloured flowers on the kitchenette counter in the exact spot where you’d left it earlier this morning. Several weeks ago, the cast and crew had all nominated you to put in the order for the bouquet and present it to Levi on his final day, and Connie had offered to help you hide it from Levi until it was time. Careful to not drip water all over the floor, you pick up the flowers and jog back to set.

The fog machines are being carried out by the time you return. You immediately scan the set for Levi, but it seems he has been completely buried under a massive group hug with the veterans cast, no doubt Hange’s doing. You can’t help but smile at the sight. Most of the crew members appear to be taking a break before clean-up, as it is the end of the day. The air is filled with chatter, but a hush descends upon the crowd as you approach.

The actors peel away from the hug one by one. A smiling Petra helps Levi get to his feet. The bandages on his face are halfway unravelled. With one hand, he yanks them off, leaving both of his eyes to gaze at you unobstructed, ablaze with an intense emotion you can’t quite place. With his other hand, he quickly wipes away the half-dried tears on his cheeks.

“On behalf of the cast and crew,” you say hoarsely, “I give you these.” You step forward and present him the bouquet. “It’s been an honour. Thank you for everything, Levi.”

His fingers gently graze yours as he takes the flowers from you. Tenderly, he holds them close to his chest.

“I was wondering where you went just now,” he says. Of course he’d noticed. “Should’ve known you’d be the one to give me this…” His voice wavers towards the end. He scoffs and wipes at his eyes. “And to think I was done blubbering like a baby. Damn it. You were right.”

He pulls you into a hug without a second thought.

———

Somehow, you’ve been roped into taking photos for everyone. Levi unwraps the bandages around his hand before he begins. He first takes a photo with the director and producer, who both thanking him dearly. They part with a handshake. Almost immediately after, the cast members of the Alliance, along with Eren and Zeke, all swarm forward for a big group photo. They’d all come to watch in support, even if several of them weren’t scheduled to come in today. Connie confesses that he’d helped hide the bouquet by letting you into his trailer. Levi makes a light-hearted remark that he should’ve figured that out too, considering Connie also helped hide Hange’s bouquet—which Levi himself had been responsible for ordering and retrieving.

The veteran actors come forward next. Fitting them all into the camera frame was a challenge, but you manage to do it after one of your makeup assistants finds you a stool. Somehow, Erwin manages to persuade Levi into doing the Scout salute with the rest of them. (“I just did it in the scene, though… Fine, I’ll indulge in your corniness for today, you dorks.”) When he presses his fist to his chest one last time, the veterans erupt into cheers.

Hange and Erwin both stay back for a little longer. The trio pose for more photos, all grinning widely, though you decide to put a stop to the mini-photoshoot when Hange attempts to pick Levi up bridal-style and almost drops him.

(“When I said ‘put me down’, I didn’t mean for you to drop me with no fucking warning!”

“I didn’t mean to drop you. Besides, I caught you, didn’t I? You’re fine, see?”)

After that fiasco, Levi asks to take one with the original Special Ops Squad, as it had been years since they’d managed to meet up.

Zeke comes back for another photo, slipping one arm around Levi’s shoulders. As you meet the taller man’s eyes over the top of his phone, he winks mischievously, holding two fingers up in bunny ears above Levi’s unsuspecting head. Say nothing, he mouths to you. With a herculean effort, you suppress your laugh. Zeke has made it his personal mission to photobomb every main cast member from the finale. After months of shooting, Levi is the last one standing, and it’s incredibly entertaining how hard Zeke tries to finish his mission, even now.

“Hand down, Zeke.”

“Damn it, how did you know?”

“You’re about as subtle as Reiner is when he pretends he hasn’t broken a prop.”

Zeke laughs. “Nothing gets past you, Levi, does it?”

As the two continue to playfully bicker, more jokes than actual verbal barbs, you open the photo you’d managed to take split seconds before Levi called Zeke out. “Mission accomplished,” you say, and a delighted Zeke reaches over Levi’s head to high-five you. Looking mildly betrayed, Levi whips his head back around to face you.

You grin sheepishly as you pass Zeke’s phone back to him, the photo on display. “Sorry. I had to help him.”

“Why are you two like this?” Levi says, shaking his head, barely holding back a smile. He and Zeke part after a hug and a promise to get drinks soon.

Levi’s promptly joined by Falco and Gabi, and after their photo is taken, he ruffles their hair affectionately, which makes Gabi yelp. He really has stepped into the ‘cast dad’ role, a development that you find endlessly endearing. Soon after, their parents arrive to take them home— the kids have quite an early start tomorrow to film their scenes with Annie and Kiyomi on the boat.

Jean and Connie take the chance to snatch a couple of selfies with him, before the latter asks if he could join them to film a TikTok for the show’s official account. To Levi’s utmost relief, it isn’t a dance challenge. Connie instead asks him a few questions about how he feels about the show ending, and what the show means to him—he’s putting together a montage of every cast member’s responses.

On the sidelines, just out of view, you watch Levi give his answers. An ember of warmth kindles in your chest.

Soon after, Levi’s approached by the stunt team, headed by an old friend of Levi’s from his stuntman days. She’d made a cameo in the third season as Kenny’s lieutenant. You happily take a group photo for them.

After you hand Caven’s phone back to her, Hange taps you on the shoulder, having finished catching up with the other cast members. You smile as they hug you tight, swaying on the spot; today is the first time you’ve seen them since they filmed their death scene a few months back.

“It’s so good to see you!” They say, linking arms with yours. “Sorry it took so long to come and find you.”

“Don’t worry! It’s lovely having you back. How are you finding your return?”

“It’s great! I’ve really been missing this, even though it hasn’t been that long.” They pout.

“Oh, we’ve all missed you too, Hange,” you say, smiling. “Have you been up to much since you left?”

“Well, I visited my dad for a bit, then I sent in an audition tape for this thriller movie that my agent thinks I’ll be a good pick for. I also got a few other offers, but I’m a little on the fence. I’ll consider those if I don’t get that thriller role, but who knows when I’ll hear back from them?”

“I bet you’ll get it. Thrillers are right up your alley.”

“You flatter me, dear,” They grin. “Anyways, I am here to say that you are the only one left who has not taken a picture with Levi. And that needs to change. The two of you need something to remember this day by!” You realise they’ve been guiding you towards the rock, where Levi, Mikasa, Armin and Eren are deep in conversation. The younger actors are laughing boisterously at something Levi had said, heads tilted back, sporting wide grins. Levi’s still cradling his bouquet carefully, a soft smile as he speaks, looking up at his younger cast mates with endearment. Your heart warms at the sight.

The quartet look up as you approach. The younger actors wave goodbye, disappearing into the crowd. Hange quickly ushers you and Levi together, their phone already out of their pocket. “Alrighty, here we go!” They cheer. “Oi, look lively now, Levi. It’s the last photo!”

“Was about time we did this,” you whisper to him as you come close. At first, you settle into your usual stance whenever you take a photo with a cast member, but Levi is not just any cast member. Not to you. Gnawing on your lip, you grapple with yourself for a fleeting moment. Your professional side barely puts up a resistance, and so you lean in to whisper a question. Briefly, you wonder what it would feel like to kiss the delicate shell of his ear. You banish the traitorous thought, best as you can.

“Hey, can I put my arm around you for this?” As close as you and Levi have grown over the years, the two of you save your brief hugs for behind the scenes, in private. Physical affection is rare with him otherwise—whilst the cast tend to be very touchy with one another, Levi is usually seen on the sides, watching them with a quiet fondness in his eyes. That hug from earlier—it had to be a fluke, right?

And yet, he sighs, and bridges the small gap between you. His free arm moves behind you, a warm, firm hand comes to rest at your back. “You don’t have to ask, you know,” he murmurs in return. “I hugged you earlier, didn't I? Quit worrying. Go ahead.”

Warmth blooming inside you, you lean sideways towards him on impulse. You slide your own arm behind him, and Levi leans into your touch. “Just so you know,” he continues, “it was an honour working with you too.”

Hange starts to count down from three. A wave of emotion hits you, almost sweeps you off your feet. This is it. Your last day of working with him.

Still so much left unsaid.

Straining to keep your composure, you offer a wide, bright smile for the camera.

———

The next few hours are spent tidying and cleaning up. Most of the actors have gone home, but Levi stays behind to help out the crew, as he always does without fail. With how emotionally taxing the day had been, it’s a wonder he didn’t go back to his trailer immediately to crash. As if you couldn’t admire him any more.

Your eyelids are heavy by the time you finish up and arrive at Levi’s trailer. When you enter, he is slumped in a chair in front of the vanity mirror, already changed out of his costume.

Neither of you say a single word as you carefully wipe away the scars and the grime. Your traitorous hands linger for a split second too long whenever they brush against his smooth skin. In his stormy eyes are that same intense look he’d given you when you first appeared with the bouquet.

You wonder what it means.

Sooner or later, one of you will have to break this fragile silence. Levi decides to take the matter into his own hands, catching you off guard. “I guess this is it.”

The sting in your eyes returns with a fierce vengeance. You turn away for a moment, rapidly blinking your oncoming tears away. An invisible vice clamps down, mercilessly clenching your chest.

You choke on your words, but you get them out somehow. “I’ll miss you.” Not the three words you’ve been yearning to say for the last year, but it will have to do. “I’m going to miss you. So much. It’s been…” You wrack your brain, but there is no singular adjective you know of that could truly describe the past few years working on this show with him. “You know what I mean. Right?”

“I know what you mean.” Levi stands, turning to face you properly. The troubled crease between his brows return. “Look, I… I have to tell you something. Hear me out?”

Your heart thunders in your chest. You nod. “Yeah. Of course.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Remember this morning? I said I was satisfied with my work here. That I have no regrets.”

Barely able to breathe, you can only manage to nod.

“But that isn’t true. Not really. There is one thing I regret,” he says, slowly, cautiously.

Voice barely a whisper, you ask. “What is it?”

“That we never talked about what almost happened at Halloween last year.”

The world comes to a halt.

Dimmed lights. Bass reverberates through your bones. The aftertaste of a Bloody Mary lingers on your tongue. Levi is just centimetres away, his chest almost flush with yours. His eyes valiantly fight to stay focused on the intricate titan-shifter makeup on your cheeks, before he gives in and his line of sight drops to your lips. Unconsciously, he leans in slightly, seemingly gravitating towards you.

Devastating. That is the first word that comes to your mind. It is high time you realise that he will be the end of you; he could ask anything of you and you’d do it. Your heart beats for him.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

A drunken crew member barges past, jostling your shoulder. You yelp, stumbling to the side, before Levi’s hands—warm, steady, safe—catch you. The spell broken, he lets go the moment you are upright, averting his eyes from yours. Levi takes a step backwards—a small one, because there is barely any space in the corner of the room the two of you are tucked into. But to you, he suddenly feels so distant, that he might as well be on the other side of the universe.

“I need some air,” he says, stoic mask falling back into place. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, Levi turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, taking all the warmth of the room with him.

No. This is dangerous territory. Since that night, the two of you had constructed an unspoken agreement to pretend nothing had ever happened. Levi had never made any impression that it was anything other than a drunken lapse in professionalism. For a while, you wondered if he even remembered that moment, or if it had all been in your head, a result of you projecting your own desires onto him.

Regardless, he had never brought it up. You’d been content to do the same. It was—and still is—impossible to fathom that Levi would ever want you.

“Tell me,” he says hoarsely, “that I wasn’t imagining things that night, and every day since. Tell me I’m not imagining that you’ve been looking at me like…”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Like what?”

“Like that!” He snaps. His hands tremble in a way you’ve never seen before as he gestures towards you, voice tinged with desperation. “Like how you’re looking at me right now. I-I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. Because if I had… maybe I would’ve…”

The staggering realisation of what he’s trying to say sinks in.

Choking back a sob of relief, you reach out for his hands, and he offers them to you with no resistance. A light blush sweeps across his face as he stares at your interlocking fingers with something akin to wonder.

Breathlessly, you dare to ask. “Do you mean it? That if you had known how I felt, you… you would’ve kissed me?”

“Yes. I would’ve. I wanted to, more than anything.” With that, Levi finally looks up from your joined hands. The burning look he’s been giving you all throughout today—you recognise it, now, plain and simple.

His earlier words ring in your mind. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.

“Oh, Levi,” you whisper.

He continues on. “And if I had known how you felt, I wouldn’t have upped and left you like that. I was being a shitty coward, for running away and pretending it never happened, and never giving you an explanation when you deserved one. I was scared, I think, of ruining what we already had. You didn’t imagine anything on my part, it happened, and you didn’t do anything wrong that night… I’m sorry.”

Smiling, you squeeze his hands; warm, steady, safe. “You aren’t imagining things on my end either. I’m in love with you, and have been for a while now.” You don’t need him to say those precious words back for now—Levi’s endearingly clumsy attempt at confessing means more to you than he’ll ever know. “And I forgive you for running out on me that night. We both thought it didn’t mean anything to the other person. For so long, I thought that even if you did, things would never work out, that today would be goodbye, because I have a new contract on the other side of the country, and you’ll be going back to stunt work, a-and…” Your voice trembles, so you force yourself to stop, and breathe.

“It will work. I swear it, I’m not saying goodbye to you. I don’t care what’s coming next, we can make it work.” He seems to muster his resolve, tugging you closer. “No more dancing around this like idiots. We have enough lost time to make up for.”

Smiling so widely your cheeks ache, you playfully poke his cheek. “Well, you can always begin with the kiss you owe me, yeah?”

“You smart-arse.” Levi chuckles, before gently cupping the back of your head with his hand. In a swift movement, he leans in and captures your lips with his.

It’s nothing short of divine.

Levi kisses you with years worth of yearning behind it. His other hand moves to cradle your face, thumb brushing against the curve of your cheek, wiping away a stray tear of happiness.

Eyes fluttering shut, you deepen the kiss. Tongues move in tandem, and it isn’t long before hands begin to roam, exploring the terrains of each other’s bodies with an almost innocent curiosity. Heat simmers underneath your skin, a carnal flame yearning to be stoked, to devour.

For now, though, you’ll have to temper it.

Coming up for air, you close your eyes, resting your forehead against his. As much as you desperately want him, you don’t want your first time having sex with Levi to be in a trailer on set, with multiple crew members still milling around outside and packing up for the day. You tell him as such, and he murmurs his agreement after kissing you once more.

“Glad we’re on the same page about that, so…” Realising what you’re about to say next, you choke back a grin at your own cheesiness. “You wanna go back to your place or mine?”

Levi rests his forehead on your shoulder and chokes back a laugh. “Fuck, that’s such a cliché line.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want, but the question still stands.”

He looks up at you, mirth dancing in his eyes. “Yours, then.”

The time spent packing up and driving back to your home crawls by agonisingly slowly. The moment the two of you cross the threshold onto your home, he’s closing the gap between the two of you, kissing you breathless, thoughtless, until only your longing for him remains. So much so that you almost forget to stop and get a condom out from your drawer—in fact, Levi has to remind you.

The rare few times you had allowed yourself to think about it, you’d pictured Levi as a tender lover, gentle despite his coarseness. He is all this and more. At his fingertips, you come alive. As he makes love to you, laughs and sweet nothings fill the air between the deep kisses you share. You should’ve expected just how generous he can be in bed, but it still takes you by surprise, the way he worships your body with a deep-rooted reverence, determined to pleasure you over and over. In turn, you reciprocate eagerly, honoured that Levi trusts you to take care of him in return, that he is so readily vulnerable with you.

Once the two of you are finally, utterly spent, Levi nudges you awake before you can fully slip into a deep doze, cosy and comfortable in his embrace. “Hey. Gotta clean ourselves up, sleepyhead.”

You chuckle drowsily, and miraculously muster up the strength to crawl out of his arms, out of the warm sheets. “The bathroom is just down the hall,” you yawn, trudging towards a cupboard not the other side of your room. “You can shower first whilst I change the sheets and find you a towel and some spare clothes, ‘kay?”

“Or,” Levi says, voice hoarse with the same kind of contented exhaustion that makes you yearn to curl up beneath the sheets in his arms, “you could come with me.” He pulls you back in, peppering gentle kisses along your neck and shoulder, which tickle slightly.

Euphoric, you close your eyes and laugh. “Okay.”

Showering together is an incredibly sweet, domestic affair. Long after you’ve rinsed off all the lather, you’re both hesitant to leave the warmth of the running water, content to cling onto each other and relish in the feeling of skin against skin.

After the two of you dry off and change the sheets, you climb into bed. Half awake and basking in each other’s presence, you pull him close, nestling your head on his chest. When was the last time you had felt so cherished, so happy?

Sleep claims you swiftly, but not before Levi kisses the top of your head and tells you what you already know:

“I’m in love with you, too.”

———

Several weeks later

The wrap party is well underway by the time you and Levi arrive.

The lights are dim, and the music reverberates through your bones. Levi’s hand finds a home in the curve of your waist as he guides you through the crowd of drunken cast and crew members. His touch anchors you, and you find yourself smiling giddily.

After helping yourself to a cocktail, the hours fly by. Apparently, the entire cast plus half of the crew (including all of the makeup assistants under your command) had been rooting for you and Levi to get together. Tonight when you finally revealed you were in a relationship with him to your juniors, you were subjected to an intense barrage of questions. This, however, paled in comparison to Hange’s reaction when Levi held your hand in front of their very eyes—they’d launched an interrogation so brutal you wonder why they didn’t enter law enforcement instead.

Soon after escaping Hange’s interrogation, you two both get another drink. “Everybody seems far too invested in this development than they should be,” you sigh, still frazzled. “How long do you reckon they’ve been shipping us?”

A look of exasperation flits across Levi’s face. “I don’t know, and I hate that I even know what ‘shipping’ means in this context. Also, I saw Zeke give Erwin money when Hange was drilling us. Fuckers had some kind of bet running on us. Don’t even wanna know how long that had gone on for.”

You tip your head back and laugh. “Colour me unsurprised. That sounds very on-brand for Zeke and Erwin. You know, I think I saw Armin and Connie do the same. Guess Armin’s not as angelic as he looks.”

“That’s been known, sweetheart. The kid’s a menace in disguise.” He kisses your cheek. “Just like you, actually, now that I think about it.”

Playfully, you swat him away. “Hey, who are you calling a menace?”

Eventually, the two of you find yourselves catching some air outside, needing a moment to sober up and recalibrate after a whirlwind of social interaction. Levi’s hand returns to your waist and tugs you closer to him, seeking out your warmth. Melting into his touch, you do you best to commit the feeling of his embrace to memory. Soon, you’ll move away for a few months for your next contract, but you no longer fear it. Levi had sworn to you that this would work out, and there is nobody’s word you trust more than his.

Your love for each other has endured for years in the past. A handful more months is nothing.

Levi shifts slightly to get a better look at you, and cups your cheek. Meeting his gaze, your heart stops; his eyes are a breathtaking silver in the moonlight. Easily the most expressive feature he has, you could get lost in them for hours.

Caught in his orbit, your face tilts towards his.

This time, Levi meets you halfway.

Do not repost, modify or claim as your own work.

Masterlist

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi ackerman x y/n #levi x y/n #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #reader insert #x reader #gender neutral reader #aot actor au #actor levi x makeup artist reader

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savannahsdeath · 4 months

Text

a part3 of -this- which im actually proud of ❈ dealer!ellie and reader in love but nothing's perfect . finally a rough part . got carried away but enjoy:3

warnings: ANGST mention of sex, language

the spring season brought the first warming breeze and blooming flowers to the land after the cold winter. the air was filled with the aroma of new blossoms and fresh grass. the sky was typically clear and blue with the occasional fluffy white clouds covering the bright sun. the days often got warmer, but some areas still experienced frosty nights. small animals such as bees and birds returned and chirped their familiar tunes.

spring was the time of rebirth and new beginnings.

you and your father met regularly over the past month. as time went on, your meetings became more and more enjoyable. you began to fill in the blanks and learn about each other, sharing memories and experiences. soon, these meetings became a regular part of your schedules. your relationship began to deepen as you got to know each other better. you started to share more intimate conversations and found comfort in that. your meetings became more than just catching up on life events - they became a source of strength and support for both of you. yet, you were rarely serious, since you started to notice your father’s playful sense of humor and found it endearing — how could ellie describe him as harsh?

right, ellie. she was just as captivating as your new-old parent's funny bone. she had a way of holding your attention and making you feel like nothing else mattered but her. you shared a connection that ran deeper than words could describe. your friendship grew as you bonded over your shared interests and passions — it turned out that she can be a nerd when it comes to dinosaurs. the more you learned about ellie, the more you were filled with a warm, tingling sensation that grew into something more.

until that one day — morning, to be exact. i won't beat around the bush — you fucked this night, and a few nights before, and a few more nights before that... but you didn't regret a thing. ellie could be more romantic than you guessed she is, but it was more than the physical connection between you that made these moments so special. there was a deep sense of intimacy and shared understanding between them - when your skin touched, it felt like you both are an unfinished sculpture, which melted into the other's undried clay limbs.

the gentle warmth of the sheets beneath you beckoned you up from your deep sleep, as if a stroke from the sun itself was caressing your skin. the warmth of your peaceful slumber was greeted with the golden glow of a new day. the embrace of the bed was like a sweet escape as you peered through your sleepy eyes at the sun rising outside your window. your eyes flickered. you noticed the lack of ellie's spirit and your hand ran over the empty part of bed to make sure she's not there, since your sense of sight wasn't trustworthy yet.

you heard her voice from the kitchen, and once you rubbed your eyes and squinted you identified her arm sticking out from around the corner. "tell her the truth," her voice was subdued and had a nervous, disbelieving undertone, "so that she would look at me through tears instead of seeing me as the love of her life?" a pause, during which the other person on the phone talked and you had time to memorize every word. "of course i do, but what choice would she have?"

"truth?" you whispered to yourself. your nerves were on edge as you strained to listen more closely to the dialogue. every sound of the voices became a point of intense focus, your anxiety grew with the realization that they may know something you don't. "choice?..." you tried to keep a steady breathing pace but every word was like a brick added to the wall of tension around your heart, threatening to crush you with the weight of the unknown.

you stretched, purposely making the bed creak, and loudly yawned.

"i have to go" ellie murmured and put her phone on the table. you heard her footsteps, figuring out she walked over to another countertop, probably to make her morning coffee.

you sat up on the bed, staring at the doorway to see her once she's on the view. "what was that, ellie?" you yelled.

she appeared in the hallway, already dressed up in a flannel shirt with a black tank top underneath and her usual torn jeans. "what?"

"who were you talking with?" you pinched the sheet's button and nervously played with the hem of the seam. "and what about?"

"oh, eavesdropping? not nice." she smirked and clicked her tongue, slowly turning around and making her way back to the kitchen. "if i tell you, i'd have to kill you!" she chuckled.

you whined. "don't laugh it off."

the playful laugh that danced upon her lips slowly faded away as an intense realisation washed over her. the mask she has been wearing for so long has slipped off, exposing the truth beneath it all. there was no more trying to cover up the truth with jokes. she was vulnerable and exposed, and all she could do now was accept that you know that something's off.

she licked her lips. "your father—" she cut off and slowly sat down on the bed next to you. she bent her knees and placed her hands on them, letting out a defeated sigh. she stared into the hallway, just like you before, though you had a reason to and her eyes seemed to be blind, not hoping to see anything in particular. hopeless. "i will betray him."

your confusion was palpable as your mind raced to catch up with the changing dynamic of the situation. the laughter and joking suddenly fall away like a veil dropped, revealing an atmosphere tinged with unease and uncertainty. your gaze remained on ellie, studying her expressions in search of a deeper meaning, wondering why the shift in mood suddenly occurred. you were unable to grasp the truth lurking beneath the surface and the other girl could see the wheels turning in your head as you searched for the missing puzzle piece to make sense of it all. whatever it meant, it wasn't predicting anything good. "if you do you will betray me."

"i'm sorry" she mumbled, cocking her head back, leaning it on the bed frame.

you frowned, knitting your eyebrows together in one line, creating a wrinkle on your forehead. "what are you talking about? what the fuck is going on?"

a sharp click echoed through the room, as the sound of a lighter being sparked filled the air. ellie always plays with it when she's nervous, making the momentary flash of light illuminate her face. the bright flame flickered as it was held carefully in the girl's hands, its warm glow emitting its own palpable warmth. "he's in trouble." the fire danced with a mesmeric grace, drawing all of the attention as emotions threatened to boil over.

"can't be that bad." your voice was begging, pleading for her to reassure you that it's nothing. you weren't sure what your father's job was, and you hoped it would stay that way, but now you knew you can't be out of it.

"but it is." she shrugged. "it's not like i have a choice anyway."

you huffed. "you do—"

"don't act like you know everything." she bitterly chuckled. "if i could be on his side, i promise you, i would."

"so there's more of you. you are just a pawn in their treacherous game." the rush of anger swelled within you as you rose from the bed, the truth finally setting in and filling your brain with a rush of emotions. the confusion melted away into wrath and hatred, the heat of your burning anger replacing the cold chill of uncertainty. "so what was your job? making me fall in love? did they force you to?" every word ringed in your head with the intensity of a thunderclap, stirring your fury and disappointment. your body felt heavy with the strength of your emotions as you began to realize everything that has been happening. "that's clever." you stopped pacing back and forth to accusingly point your finger at her. "you used me. i bet it was your own idea too, huh?"

"you can't be serious." she twirled a cigarette on the palm of her hand. "can i?..."

"you can do whatever you please, ellie." you proudly raised your chin and crossed your arms. "just not in my house."

"are you kicking me out?" she asked in disbelief, so strong she almost smiled. she stuck the unlit cigarette between her dry lips and put her hands in the air, like a surrendering thief. "whatever, i understand. but remember, it was me or him. it still is." she stood up and, without taking her eyes off you, walked up to the door.

✧˖°

YAYYY ANGSTY SHIT I LOVE ANGST MEOW

taglist: @bellaramslover @gold-dustwomxn @loverg1rlll @juliluvsu @timmy-27 @marianeski @kuromicoree @inf3ct3dd @mikellie @elliewilliamsonlygirlfriend @syrenada @drunkzuko @florencepughismybae @weridcattty @kanksaint @villainousbear @coff1nn @emst4rr @thehungrygayterpillar-blog @skylerwhitwyo @macaroni676 @cupid1ink @xen222 @onlinelesbo @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @mochiivqi @lilylynne11 @sevvenspit @williamsblogxx @707bnnyy @poopypeen @agajahan @kali-1014 @lullsss @corpsebridenightamare @planetloverr @lil-elliesgf @littlegingerperson

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x female reader

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janeyseymour · 5 months

Note

Hii hope ur doing well x If ur still accepting requests for Mel x Reader could u do one where reader has some type of disability like chronic pain and they have a flare at school (cause they both work there) and Mel immediately runs to action and there's like Loooots of comfort etc hehe :3

I hope this is what you're looking for!

Too Late Now

WC:~4.3k

You usually have this under control. Since your fourth concussion, you’ve dealt with the headaches and the occasional migraines easily. Doctors have been helping you and make sure that you always have your emergency migraine medication at the ready.

On top of that, it’s been seven years that you’ve been living with this. You know the when a headache or a migraine is coming for the most part. You didn’t even bother writing down on your forms when you got hired that you should technically have accommodations due to your chronic migraines. You just know how to handle them at this point. It’s part of your everyday life.

Melissa, your girlfriend, doesn’t even know about your condition. She doesn’t need to know. You saw the way she sprung into action when you had the flu a few months ago- or when you had caught the stomach bug from the kids. After taking care of you with absolutely no complaints, she got sick both times herself. You took care of her too, much to her dismay. She was a caretaker, she did not like to be the one being taken care of.

When you wake up, you feel a little funny. But something is going around the school, as it always is around this time of year. So you chalk it up to that, and you take an Advil and an allergy pill.

When you’re leaving, you almost have half a mind to throw in your migraine medication just in case… but you get distracted by a text from Melissa asking if you wanted coffee this morning from Dunkin.

Of course I do, you reply back.

Your usual?

Please, and thank you.

Sounds good. I’ll see you at school gorgeous.

And because of that text exchange, you forget to throw your pills in your purse and leave the house.

As you’re driving, your headache worsens just slightly, and you groan. Allergy season was bad at this time of year, and your sinuses have been paying for it- post nasal drip is at an all time high, you’ve already had an ear infection this season, and you’ve been getting sinus headaches because of it. You don’t realize a migraine is coming on yet, so you just pop another Advil before you head into Abbott.

Your girlfriend is waiting for you in the teacher’s lounge like usual, and she almost immediately sees how unwell you’re feeling.

“Hey, baby,” she says softly as she kicks out the seat next to her.

“Hey,” you sigh, but you don’t take a seat. You just lean down and peck her lips before standing back up straight with a grimace.

She hands you your coffee with a frown. “You feelin’ okay, hon?”

“Allergies,” you say through a yawn. “I think I’m gonna go sit in my classroom this morning, but you enjoy your news.”

“Alright, hon. Do you want me to come with you?”

“I know how much you like your news,” you tell her. “I’ll be okay.” You head to your classroom, and she watches you in concern.

By the time the kids are supposed to come in, you know exactly what’s happening- a migraine is coming on. And you, like an absolute lovesick idiot, forgot your medication because you were too busy texting your sweet girlfriend. Your head is in your hands as you massage at your temples, the lights are off, the sound of the barely functioning air conditioning is making your eyes throb in pain.

Hypothetically, you could call out now. But there’s a shortage in substitutes, you don’t think you can even think properly to create sub plans, the thought of moving from your desk makes you want to cry, and you know it’s only a short amount of time until you’re unable to drive for the next… eleven hours. You probably wouldn’t even be able to make it the drive home.

You have no idea how you’re going to survive today without your medication.

When the kids start to make their way in, you nearly burst into tears. You silently thank God that you didn’t put any makeup on today. You throw your sunglasses on as they trickle in, and you stay seated at your desk.

You can’t teach today, and you know this. It’s going to be a day where the kids sit quietly and watch magic school bus, you take them out for extra recess, and then they can sit and work on their projects, or read and draw. You don’t care what happens today, as long as they aren’t loud.

Again, your kids think that they have a sub until they see you sitting at your desk in the dark.

“Ms. Y/N?” one of the girls comes in and runs up to your desk.

“Hey, sweetheart,” you say softly, and even the eight year old can see the pain etched in your face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, Skylar,” you tell her quietly. “Ms. Y/N’s head just hurts, so today is mostly going to be an independent and quiet work day. Unpack and get ready for today, love bug.”

The little girl gives you a gentle hug before going to her desk and unpacking. You keep your eyes closed as the rest of them trickle in, and they’re oddly quiet. They are never this quiet. You almost always have to remind them to do their handwriting pages and do their lunch count.

When you do open your eyes to take attendance and explain to them what’s happening today, you see that Skylar had quietly taken it upon herself to write the morning routine on the board.

Morning! The note on the board reads. Ms. Y/N’s head hurts, so come in quietly. Unpack, lunch count, the next page in journal, then DEAR.

Your heart melts, and you realize how lucky you are that your students genuinely care about you the way that they do. Skylar is over by the lunch count board writing a tally for you, and she quietly comes and slips it over to you.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you whisper to her, and you have a small tear trail down your cheek. “Do you want me to take it to Ms. Schemmenti to put in, or should I take it down to the office?”

“I can put it in, honey,” you give her a gentle squeeze before opening your laptop. You wince immediately due to the light, but you can handle this. You can’t have her go down to Melissa’s- your girlfriend would flip her lid when she found out how under the weather you were feeling and you didn’t stay home or ask for her help.

All of your students watch you silently. They’ve never seen you this drained. Sure, they’ve seen you sick; you rarely call out. They’ve seen you tired after a night of volunteering or staying up late to finish grading papers and preparing for them. But they have never, ever seen you this down- to the point that your skin is pale and you can’t take off your sunglasses because your head hurts so bad.

“Miss Y/N?” one of the boys raises his hand quietly, and he’s usually known for giving you a hard time.

“Yes, Cameron?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You just barely nod and take a shaky breath. “Here’s what we’re going to do today,” you tell them. “We’re going to do our independent work for each of our subjects today- I know we have projects and papers in all of the subjects except math. For math, I’ll have… somebody… take you outside for extra recess, and if you’re good and quiet today, I’ll put on Magic School Bus at the end of the day for dismissal. Deal?”

All of your kids nod, and you give them half a smile. Then you get a shooting pain right behind your left temple, and you quietly cry out in pain. You grip the table for a few seconds and take a deep breath before you open your eyes again. They all look absolutely terrified.

“Nobody tells Ms. Schemmenti,” you tell them as you point at them all.

They all raise their hands in surrender.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, shakily. “Who is going to lead our morning meeting?” It’s Rayna.

When that’s over, the kids quietly pull out their social studies projects and start to work on them. When social studies is over, they quietly move on to their independent reading for fifteen minutes. And then they line themselves up silently for specials.

“Can I trust you all to walk yourselves down to the gym silently?” As you write a note to the gym teacher explaining that they are coming on their own and to just send them back down to your room when gym is over.

“I take my line leader duty very seriously, Ms. Y/N,” Jayden tells you seriously. “If we aren’t quiet, I’ll tell you.” You nod, hand him the note with the instruction to give it to the PE teacher, and they’re off.

You get approximately forty-five minutes of peace and absolute silence. You close the door, grab your coat and throw it over your head, and lay down on the back table. You’re small enough to fit if you curl up.

On your kids’ way back to the classroom, they just happen to see your girlfriend in the hallway on her way out of the teachers’ lounge.

“Where’s Ms. Y/N?” the redhead asks with a popped eyebrow. You always walk with your children everywhere.

All of the kids look at each other nervously, remembering the way you told them that they weren’t to tell the second grade teacher. But Melissa is staring them down.

“She called the gym teacher and told him to just let us walk down by ourselves because she had to use the bathroom,” Jayden tells a fib, and he hates doing it to his former teacher. But he promised you.

Melissa furrows her brows, but Jayden’s always been a good kid. “Okay… Well, tell Miss Y/N to put up another class compliment star because you’re all walking through the hallway very nicely.”

The line leader nods and takes off in the direction of your classroom, while Melissa heads towards the office to make copies.

You’ve just barely managed to get yourself back to your desk when the kids come back in, but your migraine is starting to make you nauseous, and you don’t even know what to do anymore. You won’t even be able to drive yourself home, so you just have to wait this out- at least you should get paid for it.

“We saw Ms. Schemmenti in the hall,” Omari tells you quietly while everyone else is getting out their snacks. “She said to give us a class compliment star because we were walking so nicely.”

“Nobody said anything, did they?” you ask.

“Jayden told her you were in the bathroom and told the gym teacher to just let us walk down,” your student says. “I don’t think he liked having to lie to her though… and Ms. Schemmenti didn’t really look like she believed him.”

As if on cue, the second grade teacher is knocking softly on your doorframe. She looks so concerned for you. “Ms. Y/N?”

You thank God you weren’t facing the door and have half a mind to rip off your sunglasses before standing and meeting her on the other side of the room. “Class, eat your snacks while I talk to Ms. Schemmenti in the hallway.”

“Amore,” Melissa whispers softly as she gets a look at you. “You look terrible. Why don’t you go home? I can split your class between the other third grade class and mine- not like I haven’t juggled two grades at one time before.”

“I- I can’t go home,” you mumble, and you wince at the florescent lights that aren’t out for once.

“And why’s that?”

You bite your lip. You have to admit to her just how terrible you’re feeling. She’s going to flip out and become insanely protective. She’s going to be upset you didn’t tell her about your condition before. “I get chronic migraines sometimes, and I… I have one right now.”

“Oh, hon,” Melissa whispers sympathetically.

“I usually have meds for it to lessen the pain, but I left it at my house this morning, and I think if I tried to drive home, I would throw up or black out,” you tell her honestly. “The kids have been really great this morning though, and they understand.”

“How can I help?”

“During my math period, can you take them outside? They deserve extra recess today,” you practically whimper as you close your eyes and brace yourself for the shooting pain you can feel getting ready to come on.

“Why don’t I just split the kids for the rest of the day while you lay down?” your girlfriend suggests.

“I’m here, they’re behaving and quiet, and I need to get paid,” you tell her. “They’re okay with me for everything except math.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” the redhead sighs. “But you just call if you need me, you hear?”

“I know,” you say softly. “I’ll be-” You cut yourself off with a whine and grab her arm as the pain comes. When it’s over, you relax and finish, “-fine.”

Your girlfriend shakes her head with a deep breath before stepping into your classroom. Jayden looks terrified.

“Ms. Schemmenti, I didn’t mean to lie to you,” he says quickly. “I didn’t want to, but I-”

“It’s okay, buddy,” she says softly before looking to the rest of the class. “You be on your best behavior for Ms. Y/N, and if anything happens, you come down to my room. I’ll be over during your math time for extra recess if you continue having a great day. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” your students reply, and you walk slowly into your room before putting your glasses back on and putting your head in your hands. Melissa gives you a gentle pat on the back before squeezing your shoulder three times.

Your kids finish their snack, and when that’s over they work on their research project for writing. They line themselves up silently for lunch and walk themselves down. You take up your position on your back table again, and close your eyes. You beg God to make the pain stop, and you finally give in, crying.

What you don’t know is that your sweet, sweet girlfriend is on her way to your apartment to grab your medicine. She also grabs a gatorade and your favorite hoodie (that is actually hers). She stops at Wawa and grabs you a Tasty Cake before returning to the school.

When she gets to your classroom, her heart breaks. She can see the way that you’re shaking from underneath your coat, and she has no doubt that you’re crying.

“Oh hon,” she mumbles as she makes her way over to you. She lays a delicate hand on your back and rubs up and down soothingly. “I brought your medicine, your favorite hoodie, and a Tasty Cake from Wawa. Can you take the medicine for me?”

Her kindness and gentleness just makes you cry even harder- and that only makes your head hurt worse.

Your alarm on your watch starts to go off, and you whine. “I don’t think I can do my recess duty today.”

“I’ll get the music teacher to cover it- she’ll do anything to get some of my meatballs,” your girlfriend tells you. “You just take your meds, and hopefully they kick in.”

You nod, just barely manage to sit up and take the medication and you take the hoodie and ball it up and put it under your head.

After she calls the music teacher and arranges your coverage, she asks, “Jeet today?”

“No,” you mumble.

“Can you try to eat the cupcakes I brought?” At your nod, she opens it for you and practically feeds it to you.

“Did you eat?” you ask your girlfriend.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” she dismisses your concern. “I’ll get my lunch in eventually- just might be while the kids are running around on the playground for math.”

Once you’ve had one of the cupcakes, you groan. “I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

“Okay, hon,” Melissa frowns. “You know your body.”

“My body wants to sleep.”

“Well, you have another thirty minutes of recess, and you know I’ll always take your kids for you,” your girlfriend reminds you.

You nod and close your eyes. “Set my alarm for the end of recess? And if you wouldn’t mind just sending my kids here from outside for me?”

She presses a delicate kiss to the side of your head, but she doesn’t set your alarm. She fully intends to let you sleep the rest of the school day, and she’ll take your kids for you- all twenty three of them. She can handle it.

It’s not like Ava is here to tell you you can’t get paid for today. And in reality, Ava wouldn’t care anyway.

Your perfect, wonderful girlfriend picks your kids up from recess, and she has no idea how she manages this, but every single child is able to grab their belongings without waking you up. They were even able to silently move their chairs.

When you wake back up, your head is still pounding. It’s starting to ease up though. You glance at your watch from underneath your coat.

4:12 is staring back at you. School has been over for an hour…

You take your coat off of your head to see a classroom without chairs and Melissa perched on the closest desk to you, glasses on the tip of her nose and reading something on her phone.

“There’s my gorgeous girl,” she says quietly as she puts her phone away. “How’re you feeling?”

“Mel, why didn’t you wake me?”

“You needed rest. Your kids’ chairs are in my room, and I told them to just come get them tomorrow.”

“I slept at school for almost four hours.”

“And how are you feeling now?” she prompts again.

“The prescription is starting to kick in,” you mumble. “But because I didn’t take it during the onset, I mostly just have to ride it out.”

“How long do your migraines usually last?”

“Hopefully, I only have another three hours of this hell,” you tell her.

“And are you feeling okay to go home?”

“I’m shocked Mr. J hasn’t come in here to kick us out,” you grumble.

Melissa flashes you that devious Schemmenti smile. “He did. But I told him… in a non-threatening way… that we would be staying here until you woke up on your own, and I would lock up the school.” She twirls the keys around her finger. “Now, do you need to stay here to ride it out, or…?”

“I really don’t know if I can drive to my apartment yet,” you admit sheepishly. “I’m still kind of nauseous.”

“Can I take you back home, then?” your girlfriend asks you softly as she fixes your wild locks.

You nod with a groan as you sit up. You go to grab your bags, but Melissa already has them next to her and both of your things are slung over her shoulders in a second.

“You just worry about getting your pretty little self into the car, yeah?” She presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and you know it’s all in your head, but her kiss makes you feel even the slightest bit better.

She piles your things in her car as you slowly get in and close your eyes. She gets in not a few seconds later, closing the door as quietly as she can. As the two of you are pulling out of the parking lot, you feel her warm hand settle on your thigh, and she squeezes it gently. It shouldn’t affect you the way it does- especially given how you’re feeling right now.

When she pulls in, she tells you gently to head in and up to bed. She’ll handle all of your things, she’ll be right in to curl up with you and/or nurse you back to health.

“I just have to ride it out, honey,” you remind her.

“Well, we’ll curl up together then,” she tells you. “And when you’re feeling up to it, I’ll make us something for dinner.”

“I love you,” you sigh softly as you drag yourself out of the car. You get yourself into the house and are just laying down in bed as she comes in. She changes, lays down next to you, and pulls you into her arms gently.

“Hon, I can sleep on my own,” you mumble into her chest. “I know you have a shit ton to grade.”

“I can do that tomorrow during my prep,” she whispers. “Right now, my girlfriend needs some love and attention.”

Because of her warmth and the delicate fingers that are tracing patterns on your arms, you fall asleep easily. And when you wake up, she’s still laying with you, and she’s half asleep herself. You wake up to a mouthful of red hair, and you sigh in content. Your head is no longer pounding- you think your migraine is gone.

“How’re you feeling?” your girlfriend asks you softly, eyes still closed.

“So much better,” you tell her truthfully. “You didn’t have to stay. You could’ve had dinner or graded stuff while I slept.”

“And what kinda girlfriend would that make me, hon?” Melissa retorts. “But I’m glad you’re feeling better. You ready to eat a real meal?”

“Yeah,” you sigh softly. “After a few more minutes of cuddles?”

“I can’t say no to that.”

After a few more minutes, and a rather loud grumble of both of your stomachs, you head into the kitchen hand in hand. She starts making dinner while you go over to one of her bags and start grading the math tests she gave to her class yesterday.

“You don’t have to do that,” she tells you as she stirs the pot.

“I have to make it up to you somehow,” you say as you mark a few questions wrong.

“You can make it up to me by tellin’ me why I never knew you got migraines… and frequently enough to have the good shit prescribed to you,” the redhead says as she turns to look at you pointedly.

You frown and keep your eyes trained on the papers in front of you as you shrug.

“Y/N,” she says sternly. “C’mon.”

“Nobody really knows,” you mumble before you clear your throat. You suppose you have to be honest with your girlfriend. “After my fourth concussion seven years ago… it’s just something I got used to dealing with. I usually have them under control and can just push through them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, hon?” she asks softly. “Or at least told me this morning when we were in the staff room?”

“I thought I was fine,” you tell her honestly. “It didn’t hit me until after I had already walked into my room, and at that point… it was too late, and I didn’t want you fussing over me for something I could’ve prevented.”

“Hey,” Melissa turns the burner down to let her sauce simmer. “I always worry about you- whether you’re sick or not. But when I saw you this morning, I knew something was wrong. You shoulda told me. I would’ve driven to your place to get your medicine sooner.”

“I was just going to tough it out,” you sigh.

“You were going to pass the hell out in pain,” she tells you. “Your kids were really worried about you.”

“I know they were… They were so sweet today and made sure they were on their best behavior for me,” you say softly. “I wish I would’ve gotten a picture of the morning message Sky put up on the board for the rest of the class.”

“They were just as well behaved for me,” the second grade teacher tells you honestly. “Although that may be because I promised them all doughnuts if they were good.”

“So… we have to leave early to pick up doughnuts for the kids?” you laugh. At her nod, you shake your head playfully. “I’m buying.”

“With whose card?” she snorts out.

“Mine, thank you very much,” you tease back.

With your banter, Melissa knows you’re feeling much better and are on your way to feeling 100 percent again soon.

After dinner, the two of you go back to lay in bed.

“Put a few of your pills in a plastic baggie for me to keep in my car for you tomorrow,” Melissa tells you as she pulls you into her arms again.

“Babe, I usually have them on me,” you tell her. “This was a one time thing.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain though,” she mumbles against your head, kissing it gently. “And if I can help prevent you from crying out in pain at a small noise, I will.”

“Okay, honey.”

The next morning, the two of you show up to school with dozens of doughnuts for the kids, and yours and Melissa’s classes enjoy the treats together. They’re all thrilled to be rewarded with the sweet treat. They’re happy that they can talk in their own classroom again. They’re glad to see that you’re back to yourself.

“Ms. Y/N?” Skylar asks as she gives you a hug that morning.

“What is it, sweet girl?”

“Can you like, not get sick like that again? I’m happy we got doughnuts, but I don’t wanna have to play teacher again for you… It was hard.”

You chuckle as you muss her hair. “I’ll do my best kiddo.”

Melissa just nudges you with a smirk. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” she assures your student.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

water in your hands

joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, MDNI. you will be blocked if you don’t have age/range in your bio)

word count: 9.7k (she's long but hopefully good?)

summary:

You are sick, and you're married, and you might be dyin' But you're holdin' me like water in your hands…

Joel will only end up failing you. You deserve better than him. He needs you to move on, to give him peace of mind. So, he gets married to someone else, to try to force you away. Except he just can’t let you go, and you always come back when he calls. Like a dog with a bird at his door.

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, cheating (it’s moon song y’all), marriage, age difference (joel is canon age, reader is 20s/30s), use of pet names, discussions of water/drowning, ANGST, hurt/comfort, unprotected sex, fingering, praising, lowkey possessive joel & reader, undefined relationship, alcohol use, mentions of john lennon cause he needs his own warning, joel is messy and selfish

author’s note: this is my first time writing any sort of fiction in literal years, but i couldn’t help but try to write this idea cause i'm a sad girl who wishes joel miller was real! apologies for any typos/errors, i am the actual worst at proofreading (see, my master's diss that i read at least 50 times and still had typos in the submission). any interaction is appreciated <3

PART II HERE

dividers from @saradika

Fresh snow had fallen this morning, wiping away some of the evidence of daily life here in Jackson. The air was biting, you work your sleeves over ungloved hands to keep the chill away, cheeks flushed. Snow crunches under your boots while you rush from your house to work at the Tipsy Bison, Jackson’s bar. Because of course one of the first things restored in the commune, in the middle of the apocalypse, was the one place with all the alcohol. Not that you were complaining, it gave you a job in town that you enjoyed; you got to pass time by being around people and making conversation, something you didn’t get in the small cottage that you occupied by yourself.

Keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you walk, careful to watch out for patches of ice, you only look up when you hear your name called. It’s the familiar voice of your boss; at least, you call him your boss cause he makes your shifts, but he hates to feel any sort of claim over the place since, y’know, the whole communist thing.

Tommy Miller stands near the steps up to the bar, clad in his signature look of denim and chambray, denim’s sister (the man wore a Canadian tuxedo nearly every day, you kept a tally). He’s waving you over, and before you can greet him, your attention is pulled from Tommy to the pair standing next to him.

A man, looking slightly older than Tommy but eerily similar with light grays sprinkled in his brown hair, donning a suede winter coat that was fitted across broad shoulders. His beard was patchy, not covering much of his strong jaw. Hooked nose, syrup brown eyes, olive skin looking pale from the season. There was a scar on his right temple, and other healed injuries dotting around the exposed skin. He’s handsome.

The young girl next to him just reached the man’s shoulders at her full height, bundled up in layers of sweatshirts and an open coat that didn’t look very warm. Her beanie framed her face along with her brown hair, the look on her face one of obvious teenage annoyance. She looked barely fifteen.

Tommy started introductions, barely getting a word out before the mystery man cut him off.

“I’m Joel, Tommy’s older brother. And this is Ellie.” He gestures to the girl and she gives you a nod. Joel removes a glove and extends his hand. You meet halfway, feeling the need to apologize for your cold skin chilling his own much warmer. Work-worn fingers wrap around to meet the skin on the backside of your hand. Your mind wanders to how those hands would feel in other places like --

Tommy’s voice breaks up your thoughts, “They’ve been traveling for a few months now to come here to Jackson.”

A smile crosses your face, grip not yet leaving Joel’s. His mouth ticks up slightly to one side.

“Welcome to Jackson, Mr. Miller, and you too, Ellie. It’s nice to put a face to the brother that Tommy’s been telling me stories about.”

“Please, just Joel. And it’s nice to meet you too, I hope he’s only told the good stuff.” Before you can respond, Ellie quips in.

“For months you have refused to tell people your name and now the first pretty girl in this perfect fucking town and you’ve given it twice.” She rolls her eyes so hard they disappear into her skull. Been there, Ellie. The attitude of a teenager is universal, even in the apocalypse.

Joel’s head snaps to Ellie and he grits out under his breath a little too loudly, “Ellie, quit cursing.”

Blush creeps across his face and you note that he didn’t say anything about Ellie knowing he thought you were pretty. Joel breaks eye contact and lets your hand go.

“Alright, hon, we should be on our way. I won’t subject you to any more of my older brother. He’s not much of a conversationalist,” Tommy teases. Joel gives Ellie a run for her money with the intensity of his eye roll.

Waving to the newcomers, you step back to head up the stairs. Out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see Joel take the smallest step towards you, about to follow like a puppy.

“See you later, boss. Nice to meet you again, Ellie and Joel, enjoy your tour of our perfect fucking town.”

Joel glances back over his shoulder to watch you walk into the swinging doors. Lord, if you could read his thoughts. He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw that damn smile.

The last few weeks have been torture to Joel. He and Ellie had been back in Jackson for about a month now, getting settled in their new normal. However, it wasn’t the lifestyle change that was anguishing him.

He’d thought of you a few times after he’d met you that winter; remembering your smile when Ellie was quietly resting against his back on the horse, a fever dream of you when he was in the basement of that abandoned house, a rush of nerves when Tommy brought him to the bar for the first time since he’d been back. He was infatuated with you, and now that he’s living in the same town as you, it’s gotten worse. Foolish mind daydreams of you and him together, feeling like a teenager again with the way you make his knees weak. He’s been careful not to spend much time alone with you, reminding himself that he shouldn’t let someone like you get involved with someone like him. All he’d do was fail you, fail to give you a good life. Words were carved into his skull at this point:

You’re too broken, too bruised, too scarred, and full of guilt - you’re going to fail her, too..

The small two-bedroom cottage diagonal to his and Ellie’s house was yours, and the proximity wasn’t helping his situation. And not only were you his neighbor, but you worked at the place where Joel spent a good chunk of his free time - the bar. He’d get drinks with Tommy or other guards after a shift, and that evolved to going by himself in hopes to see you and drown his guilt over those hopes (among a lot of other things).

It’s these nights when he’s become a bit looser with his self-inflicted rules around you. He occupies the stool at the end of the bar, stealing glances as you help other customers. His index finger rims the dry glass in front of him. You approach with that same damn smile aimed at him. It’s a dangerous combination along with the liquor, both fuzz his rationality.

“Another one, Mr. Miller?” you nod to his glass, reaching out to take it from him. Soft fingertips brush over his skin, sending a jolt of energy up his arm.

He clears his throat and answers, “Now, darlin’, I think I told you to call me Joel. Actually, at this point, I think it would be classified as begging. Mr. Miller makes me feel old.”

Throwing your head back with a laugh, the skin of your neck is exposed. His tongue involuntarily wets his lips when he thinks of leaving a mark there.

“Feel old? You are old, Miller,” he fakes offensive, eyebrows raised, “Aw, c’mon Joel, you know I’m just kiddin’. You’ve still got it. That silver fox thing you got goin’ on really does it for women ‘round here.”

He wants to be bold enough to ask if it’s doing anything for you, but instead, he huffs a laugh and shakes his head in disbelief, taking the two fingers of whiskey you poured.

“And how do you know that, darlin’? Haven’t had many offers for courtship since I got here.”

“I work in the bar. Women get drunk and spill their every thought. Including that the new guy with the daughter is hot,” you lean over the edge of the bar top, face less than a foot in front of him. Your eyes shift down to his lips. “Plus, I might encourage the conversation with my own thoughts.”

That smile again, except now it’s more of a smirk. He sips his drink, capturing the lingering alcohol with a lick of his lips. Your eyes go again, watching his tongue.

“I’m glad I can be such a riveting topic of conversation for you, sweetheart. Hope it’s good thoughts only.”

“Wouldn’t say the thoughts I have about you are good, Joel,” he swallows hard hearing the flirtation in your comment, feeling his jeans tighten.

Snapped out of hazy judgment, he resurfaces from the alcoholic tides; the rules he has about you act as a life preserver for him to cling to before getting caught in your rip current.

Joel throws back the rest of his drink, standing from the stool. He needs to get out of here if he wants to keep his promise to himself. Well, not that he wants to, but it’s what’s right. He can’t get you involved with his broken self. Your face drops slightly at the sight of him leaving, and part of him wants to lean over the bar to grab your face and kiss you hard in reassurance that he has the same kind of thoughts. But he can’t.

So he wishes you goodnight and walks home, angry with himself for nearly crossing the line. But he can’t help but think of your smile, and those flirty comments, as he tries to fall asleep.

You’re wide awake. Every time you close your eyes, your brain starts looping your conversation with Joel. Fingers rub circles in your temples, cursing to yourself as you get the replay of his extremely quick exit after you’d said you have…not so good thoughts about him.

The only indication you’d gotten from him that he felt any type of way toward you is his periodic visits to the bar on his own, spending the night chatting and laughing with you. You’d sometimes find yourself meeting his stare when you’d see each other across the street from your porches or in town.

But he’d never made a move, hell the most he’d touch you was to take a glass of whiskey or beer bottle from you. So why did you think he would suddenly reciprocate when you’d made openly flirty comments?

You needed some air. Just to clear your head of this embarrassing play-by-play. You pull yourself to stand and grab the sweatshirt at the end of your bed before heading out.

Jackson had the sort of late spring, early summer climate that happened to be your favorite. Warm, mildly humid days that brought the colors back after winter, and chillier nights, the right temperature to keep your cotton sleeping shorts on and add an extra layer up top to keep you warm.

Without thinking, you started towards the old barn on the edge of the residential area. The structure had seen better days, mostly used for storage now, but the open field behind it had an incredible view of the sky at night. It was a place you loved to go when that deep, dull ache in your chest wouldn’t quit.

Gravel crunches softly under your feet, small pebbles slip out from under your soles with each step. Not remotely focused on what’s in front of you, it comes as a surprise when hands land on your biceps. Your knee-jerk reaction is to scream, but as you look from the ground to the person grabbing you, the sound dies in your throat when you meet chestnut eyes.

“Jesus, Joel, you scared the shit out of me! Hasn’t anyone told you, you can’t just go grabbing women at night? Well, at any time of the day, really.” Your voice is rasped into a whisper despite the fact that there’s not a soul around.

“Maybe you should be paying a bit more attention to your surroundings when you’re walking by yourself at night, sweetheart” Joel counters, mouth ticking up to the side as his drawl continues, “Don’t know who’s lurking in the shadows in little ol’ Jackson.”

“You’re apparently the only person lurking, and you’re not doing a very good job since you just came right up to me.”

“Couldn’t help myself, I guess. What’re you doin’ out here at this hour?”

Heat burns under the surface of your skin when Joel drops his hands from your arms, the sensation radiating throughout the rest of your body. “Couldn’t sleep. I was gonna go sit out in the field behind the barn for a bit, admire the moon.”

He lights up with the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. He has the best poker face out of anyone you know, but a part of you hopes that he feels like he doesn’t need it around you.

“Mind if I join ya, darlin’? Might be nice to stargaze a bit.”

You have to hold back from nodding frantically, attempting to play it off as if you’re weighing your options, “I don’t mind at all. You can teach me about the stars.”

The walk over is quiet but comfortable. At the shabby split-rail fence, you lift your foot to the lowest rail and push off the ground to mount the barrier. Joel’s hand meets the small of your back to hold you steady. Heat emanates from the spot, fingertips brushing your sweatshirt. His warmth leaves you as you make it over, watching as he easily clears the fencing with one smooth movement.

“Any spot in particular?”

As an answer, you grab Joel’s hand. Nerves bubble in your stomach, two steps ahead with your arm outstretched behind. His larger strides are quick to close the gap, arms between your bodies with palms pressed together. His hand shifts in yours, fingers lacing with yours and curling around the outside of your smaller hand, his thumb skimming back and forth.

Steps slow at a small clearing in the tall, overgrown grass, settling down on the dewy ground. He lays back with you, not focusing on the stars right away. His eyes are a cooler shade in the moonlight, yet no warmth is lost in the way he looks as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Suddenly aware of yourself under his stare, you lightly clear your throat and turn toward the sky. “Do you know a lot about astronomy? I never got to learn much, other than my brother teaching me how to find the north star to navigate.”

Joel’s attention moves to the stars, his voice coming out lower and softer than in the daylight, “I used to know a lot more. Did a lot of camping before and learned to find the major constellations. Taught Ellie some of ‘em, and now she’s got a few books on astronomy. She kept saying how she wanted to fly, go to space or the moon like Sally Ride.”

“She’d be a pretty badass astronaut.”

He laughs softly, nodding before his expression settles into one of reminiscence and guilt all muddled together.

“You’re not wrong,” he pauses shortly before continuing, “But, I think I can still remember most of the constellations. What’s that thing called where you’re assigned one when you’re born?”

“Astrology?”

“That’s it. I know where my constellation is. I’m a Libra, whatever that means.”

Joel lifts your joined hands, his index fingers extended as he traces out the shape of scales in the corner of the sky.

Pulling the limited memories you have from the book you’d found sitting on a shelf at home, you follow Joel’s finger, “Libras are supposed to be balanced, that’s the whole scales thing, I guess. And impartial, but sometimes indecisive. Oh, and charming.”

Joel nestles your hands back on the ground. “Balanced, impartial, and indecisive? Sounds a lil’ vague, darlin’. Not sure I’m believin’ the stars can tell you about your personality.”

“Well, they got the charming part right about you. You’re certainly a Southern gentleman, got ladies swooning left and right.”

“Nah, I don’t even notice ‘em. Too busy focused on someone I’m pretty charmed by myself.”

You let go of Joel’s hand, turning onto your side to face him. He mirrors you, and you take the chance to lean in. Lips touch together with a brush, breaths fanning over both of your faces as you wait for his response.

Joel sits up, weight resting on his elbow. Broad shoulders lean over to shift you onto your back, rich eyes never leaving you. His touch is confident, a large hand fully cups the side of your face. Fingers sprawl along your jaw, thumb on your cheekbone. His frame leans further over yours, lips hovering as his voice breaks the moment of silence in a rasp, “This okay?”

Your voice thick with anticipation answers, “Yes.”

His kiss sends ripples of tension over your body. Fingers curl into the fabric of his sleeves, feet press into the dewy earth, chest tightens with quickened beating, lips match his depth. He tastes minty from toothpaste, mixed with notes of the Tennessee whiskey he orders. It’s intoxicating, reminders of him to seep into your daily life.

Joel brings you closer with a hand in your hair. His tongue traces your lips, parting them to let him in. When his fingers leave the crown of your head, his touch floats over your body, caressing your waist, sprawling under your breast, and jumping to your exposed thigh. He’s pressing your skin back against your body as if you were going to flow out from under him.

His frame shifts over you, pulling him away and breaths mix from open-mouth exhales. Legs open and hands find purchase on his expansive shoulders, heat pooling at your center when his knees settle between yours.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” Joel’s earthy tone sighs, his hands moving along your body with a rumble of satisfaction brewing out of his chest.

His touch surrounds your cheeks as if he was bringing water up to drink from his hands, only your lips are the means to quench his thirst. You moan into the deep kiss, finding a frantic rhythm together. Fingertips dance along his torso to reach the hem of his navy t-shirt.

Hot, humid kisses line your neck to the collar of your sweatshirt. Tugging at the fabric and slipping his hand underneath, you comply to get the material off. Your t-shirt follows in its wake, the chill of the ground and Joel’s touch spreading goosebumps on your skin.

You breathe out a moan at his teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder, hands pulling at his shirt. He follows the silent order, getting the soft cotton over his head.

His hips grind down, arousal flooding your core. Another moan slips at the feeling of Joel’s breath meeting a small peak on your chest, sucking the pebbled skin.

Hips jerk up against his bulge, Joel’s throaty groan cutting into the night.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so soft…”

He gives the same treatment to the opposite breast and large fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts, tugging lightly to ask permission.

“Touch me, please. Wanna feel you…”

Joel’s lips separate from the skin with a pop. Your shorts come off, Joel retaking his place between your velvety thighs.

His eyes worship your body, dark with lust but still harboring a warmth. A slight ache burns in your hips that you completely ignore when his knuckles brush up your covered slit.

There isn’t a single thought in his head that doesn’t revolve around you.

His fingers slide against the last piece of fabric covering you, feeling your wetness through it. Your delicate sounds encourage him, thumb finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. He watches for a moment, eyes catching your face as you whine.

“Joel, please…”

His teasing doesn’t cease. Instead, he removes his thumb from your clit, hooking his finger to pull your panties to the side and exposing your wetness to the chill of the night.

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, darlin’. Not a mind reader…” He grins as you huff out your frustration.

“Please, Jesus Christ, want your fingers inside of me…” you look at him impatiently as you wait for an answer.

Biting his lip to hold back a groan, he pulls your panties off to leave you completely naked under him. His mouth waters, taking you all in as his touch runs up your bent knees.

Two fingers gather your wetness, pressing harder circles into your clit. Your whimpers egg him on, slipping down to tease your entrance with one finger.

“Good girl. ‘M gonna make this pretty pussy come around my fingers.”

With a smirk, one finger slides into you. Moans fill the still air, the tightness of you around his middle finger making him stiffen. A second finger easily joins the first to work you open.

His name is repeated like a prayer when he hooks his fingers on the uptick, searching for that rough patch inside your walls.

“Fuck, Joel, feels so fucking good,” you writhe under his touch, the sight and sound of you falling apart making him ache. He uses the hand resting on your stomach as a temporary fix for himself, a deep moan interrupting the orchestra of your whimpers and wetness. He pulls his hand away from his jeans, the need to feel you come overpowering his own.

He moves in circles around clit while fingers work in and out quicker, wanton moans growing louder and higher in pitch to accompany the sounds of your drenched cunt.

“So tight around my fingers. Feels good, yeah? You gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

The sounds you make in response are lewd, pleasure overtaking you as you rasp out, “Joel, I-I’m-”

“I know, baby. Let it happen.”

His words push you over the edge, fingers nearly pushed out from how hard you clench around them. Moans flood his ears, and all he can focus on is making that feeling last for you.

Soft breaths return when you’ve recovered, hand finding him hard and working your palm. Fingers open his button and fly, shoving the fabric as far down as you can manage.

“You sure, darlin’? We don’t have to, watching you was enough for me.”

You make your way inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. He’d never really been one to care about underwear in the middle of the apocalypse, and right now he was thanking his past, lazy self for the lack of barrier. A shudder ripples down his spine, your touch so much better than his own fist.

“‘M sure, baby. Need you inside of me,” he twitches in your loose grip at the request, pushing his pants down just far enough to free himself.

Nails scrape against his scarred chest, a moan escaping you as he guides the head of his cock through your slick before positioning himself at your entrance.

His eyes lock onto where your bodies meet as he enters with a gentle thrust, your nails biting into the skin under his collarbone. He looks for a second at your face, your nod permission for him to move once you’ve adjusted to the stretch.

He nearly comes at the sight of you taking him fully, your tightness and warmth making the edges of his vision blur. “So, so good, baby…Feels so tight and warm and wet. Perfect, you’re perfect.”

Wetness pools around the base of him and onto the grass below, drenching the sound of skin meeting skin. He watches your eyes screw shut, whimpering as you take every thrust, “Fuck, Joel. Feel so full, ‘m close already.”

His hips work you harder, feeling that taut rope in his gut near its breaking point. One hand leaves your leg held against him, licking his thumb to make quick movements on your clit. His name tumbles from your lips in a high-pitched whine and your head presses back against the ground.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your walls grip him tighter and nearly knock the wind out of his lungs, your back arching off of the grass and nails biting into his shoulders. Eyes open when you settle, clouded and full of pleasure. His thrusts grow sloppy as he chases after his own high.

“Fuck, ‘m close. Feel so damn good.”

“Come for me, please Joel, wanna see you come.”

Your begging snaps that taut feeling in his gut; he quickly pulls out and replaces your warmth with his fist. His chin falls to his chest with a guttural moan as he watches his spend cover your lower stomach, glistening in the soft light. Warmth spreads across his body in a tingle, pleasure clearing his head.

They say drowning is one of the more peaceful ways to go. Once the first few breaths of water fill your lungs, your muscles relax and there’s a warmth that washes over you. Then you pass out and everything goes black. It’s not comfortable, but the tranquility makes it better.

Joel feels like he’s drowned in you, muscles relaxed, warm peace in his chest. His vision is black for a moment, breaths deep in recovery. His eyes adjust to see moonlight flooding your face and body in cool blue. His hands start roaming again, softer this time. Pulling out of you slowly, your whimper meets his small hiss.

He lays you on your side to face him, your form molding like fresh clay.

“You okay?”

Your eyes close contently when his fingers brush your hair from your face, humming, “Fantastic. I wanted that to happen ever since I met you.”

His heart beats quicker at your confession, his mind immediately repeating those words - you’re going to fail her, too.

He only holds you closer in response, and by the time you’re both dressed again and walking back to your street, he knows that he can’t let this continue.

Guilt harbored in his chest over forcing himself to avoid you for weeks after you’d given him exactly what he longed for. He didn’t want you to think that he saw you as a one-night stand, it had felt like more than he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t seek you out to apologize. If he saw you alone, he’d end up doing it all over again. He didn’t regret it. He was just trying to do right by you. Give you space, give you the means to move on before you’d drift too far into the deep end with him.

So he decided to move on himself, try to force your hand into someone else’s if you saw him coupled up. It was cruel, but that’s who he was deep down. Cruel, guilty, undeserving.

He asked Tommy to set him up with someone, and his brother told him about a nice widow who’d been in Jackson since the beginning and had mentioned how cute she thought Joel was. That was enough for him. He asked her out that night.

He’d been dating Heather for a couple of months now. She was pretty, with medium blonde hair and blue eyes. Not much younger than him. Everyone knew they were together, and he assumed that meant you did too. He’d seen you around, eyes never meeting while he walked to his house hand-in-hand with her. He heard rumors of you leaving the Tipsy Bison with a guy in tow a few times, and despite the pang of jealousy that he felt, he kept reminding himself that this was right. You’d fall in love with that guy or someone else, forgetting all about him.

A few months of dating led them to a quick engagement. Joel still couldn’t get you out of his head and took extreme measures to ensure nothing more would happen. They got married in his backyard in a small ceremony. The occasion was lowkey, at the request of Joel. Word spread after the first outing Joel had taken to the market, the silver band on his finger telling everyone what they wanted to know. Each conversation came with congratulations to him and his new wife. He returned them with tight, polite smiles, hiding the oozing guilt that was filling his chest.

Joel had found out that you’d skipped work a few times when Tommy mentioned it in passing on patrol, which was extremely unlike you considering you loved your job. He knew it was because of his marriage.

He tried to bury his worry, telling himself that he was doing the right thing. For him and for you.

Heather had lived her young life with her first husband, she wouldn’t grow to resent him for what he failed to give her. You would move on, as he did, and find some nice guy to settle down with, who could give you what you were looking for. What you deserved.

The worry carried over the day, his brain jumping to worst-case scenarios. He had to make sure you were okay. He would knock on your door to see if you were there. It was the neighborly thing to do.

Joel silently left his bed with his wife sleeping next to him, slipping out the front door in the hours before dawn. He needed to check on you, even if he had to look in through your windows to make sure you were alive. Knuckles lightly rapped on your door, and just as he was nearly about to go find your bedroom window, the door cracked apart from the jamb, and your face was lit by the soft night light.

“What are you doing here?” He can taste the bitterness in your tone.

He swallows down at the toes of his boots, raising both shoulders in a small shrug.

“Tommy said you skipped out on work most of this week. Just wanted to make sure you were alright. That you were alive.” He tries to joke, but your expression remains annoyed.

“Well, I’m fine. Alive. You should probably go, your wife’s at home.”

The door starts to shut, but he quickly grips the edge, rasping out, “I need to talk to you.”

You pause for a second before opening the door. Not waiting for him, you move to sit on your couch. Joel strides over, sitting at the other end and cheating his body towards you curled up in the corner.

“What do you need to talk about?”

“I need to apologize to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you after that night. Hell, that night shouldn’t have even happened. I got caught up-”

“Do you regret it?”

He thinks about saying yes. It would make everything so much easier. You could hate him, call him an asshole for fucking you and breaking your heart. But he can’t lie to you.

“No. I could never regret it.”

“So why shouldn’t it have happened?”

He sighs, wringing his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Honestly? I’ve been trying so hard to do right by you, darlin’. You deserve so much more than me. I’m broken, bruised, scarred. I’ve lived an ugly life, and I don’t want to end up giving any part of it to you. I can barely live with myself for the things I’ve done, even if I’ve done them to save my people. I’ve lost so much, and taken all the same. You’re so bright. I see it in that beautiful smile of yours. You deserve someone who can add beauty to your life, to live a long while with you. I can’t do that for you. All I’m going to do is fail you; it’s all I can seem to do these days. So I chose for us, and I moved on, and I hope you can find the same thing.”

After a breath, he feels like he can face you. That confidence crumbles immediately when he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks, the soft sniffle as you wipe your runny nose with your sleeve.

“That’s not true, Joel. You could never fail me because all I ever wanted you to give me was yourself. I love you, Joel. You are someone that can give me a beautiful life. Or could’ve, I guess, but now…” your eyes flick to the band on his left ring finger, “What you did was so fucking selfish, Joel. You couldn’t even have a conversation with me. And no matter how angry I get with you, I still can’t help but fucking love you.”

All he can do is kiss you. He’s spilling every emotion he can’t speak into this kiss. It would be wrong to tell you what you want to hear from him, even if it hurts to keep it inside him. His hands run over your body, gathering you in his arms and guiding you back to your bedroom.

He shouldn’t keep going. He should stop. But the feeling of your lips on his, your soft skin in his hands, and the fact that you love him keep his feet moving down the short hallway.

He can’t give you up. He was in way too deep and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to pull you in with him.

Despite the anger, sadness, and betrayal, your love for him overpowered it all. You needed to show him, to let him go with a searing memory of how you feel.

All of the actions between you two are sloppier than before. Each touch is rougher, grabbing at whatever you can take in the midst of heady kisses. Every movement is filled with unspoken words.

Joel gently pushes you the last few inches onto your bed, kicking off his boots and working at the buttons of his shirt, “Take it all off, baby, don't wanna waste a second.”

You’re only apart for as long as it takes for clothes to be shed. Back against the pillows of your unmade bed, arms pull Joel in and legs spread wide. His weight is supported with one arm, a soft moan exhaled as he bites his mark into your neck. Fingers move through your wetness, circling your clit.

It’s your turn to be selfish, and all you want is for Joel to feel himself inside of you. To remember what it’s like to have you when he goes home. To think about you when he fucks his wife. It feels wrong to want that, but you can’t help but feel a claim over him. The fingers tangled in his hair pull his head from its spot at the curve of your shoulder. You meet his lust-blown eyes and speak your demand.

“Fuck me, please, I need you now.”

Joel groans, fingers ceasing their movement as he questions you, “You sure, darlin’? You ready for me right now?”

“Yes, ‘m ready, please, baby,” you plead with him.

Joel repositions himself upright on his knees between your wide legs, stroking himself to get fully hard. He drags the head of his cock up your slit, coating it with your wetness before he presses the tip inside of you. You feel a tinge of pain as he splits you open, but you whisper for him to keep going.

When he’s completely inside of you, Joel sighs out your name, hands gripping your thighs and bringing one up to wrap around his waist, allowing him to sink further.

“Please, Joel, want it hard…” you whimper out, feeling the sensation of him in your gut. Joel needs no further instructions, pulling back to fuck into you hard and deep.

He watches where your bodies connect, how the drag of his cock swells your cunt. Lip pulled between his teeth, the sight makes his hips snap roughly against yours.

He’s leaving bruises with how tight he’s holding onto you, keeping you from moving up the mattress with the power of his thrusts. You don’t say anything until Joel breaks, fucking you with a possessive drive, “Mine. You’re all mine.”

“Only yours, baby. ‘M only ever gonna be yours.”

“You’re made for me, sweet girl, made to take me. Feel so fucking good, such a perfect pussy.”

You’re relieved when his eyes leave yours as he watches him hit inside you again, tears pricking your eyes from the pain and pleasure pounding through you and the thought that he won’t ever be completely yours.

That stupid piece of metal around his finger burns against the skin of your thigh. It should be a symbol of you, not someone else.

Hurt, anger, and pleasure meld together. Hands move to Joel’s shoulders, using your strength to flip over. His back hits the crumpled pillows at the headboard, sitting up as you straddle him.

“Look so beautiful on top of me, baby,” his chest rises and falls in quick succession, the next inhale sharper as you sink down completely, watching his eyes screw shut and a deep moan vibrate his chest.

“Oh fuck, take what you need, darlin’. Use my cock. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your mouth opens to tell him you can’t have what you want most. Because of what he decided for the both of you. Instead, a moan tumbles out, hips starting to roll to work him back to that near-ecstasy feeling. The room is filled with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin mixed with wanton moans. Your movements keep you both near the edge, your head back and eyes closed as you scream Joel’s name. He doesn’t reprimand you for potentially exposing yourselves to the neighbors, only reaching a hand to the back of your neck and pulling you in for a passionate kiss. You can tell he’s close when his feet dig into the mattress, hips under his vice grip. He starts fucking up into you, both of your rhythms meeting to work you higher. One hand leaves his chest to hold the side of his head, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“‘M yours…” you echo his lust-filled words. You need to remind him that at least part of him will always belong to you, that only you can make him feel this good, this loved. That you’re the one who fucks him like this. “Made for you, right? Just for you, baby. No one besides you can make me feel this good, make me come like you can. Ruined me for everyone else.”

“Mhmm, that’s fuckin’ right, darlin’. This pussy’s mine. You belong to me, all to me.” Joel’s thrusts become frantic and you lose your rhythm, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing quick circles.

You come hard, screaming his name again and whining with each thrust after your intense orgasm. Joel’s right behind you, your sounds pushing him over the edge. Warm ropes coat your walls, his husky groan reverberating under your palms pressed to his chest. Your voice can barely reach a whisper when you look at him, fingers moving to tug his hair, “And you belong to me.”

He doesn’t say anything if he even hears you, his skin sticking against yours and his come dripping out of you onto his stomach when you move to lie down. Joel gets up after he steadies his breath to grab a warm cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. He crawls back into bed, slipping under the covers after tossing the dirty washcloth into the hamper. Your head finds his chest, curling up into his side with his arm wrapping you up. He kisses your forehead as you drift off, feelings of guilt, anger, and love rising from your gut to sit square in your chest.

Cold sheets. That’s what you wake up to. Sitting up in bed, you glance around your room with sleepy eyes, searching for any evidence of Joel.

Nothing. He must’ve left after you fell asleep. You can’t blame him. It definitely wouldn’t look the best if his wife woke up in the morning and he was nowhere to be found. And he couldn’t risk someone seeing him sneak out of yours in the morning light.

You’re remembering your confession that was met with his claim over your body. Your own stupid attempt to make him believe that he belonged only to you, spurred on by his possessive words.

Something on the nightstand catches your eye. A note from Joel:

Meet me at our spot tonight, sweet girl

You met him that night, and nearly every night since then, too. Mostly in that overgrown field behind the barn, sometimes at yours when you craved complete comfort of the couch or bed.

Joel started staying later with you, holding you after the possessive claims he made over you like a prayer. He opened up about his time with Ellie before Jackson, stories about Boston, about Tess. What it was like growing up with Tommy, confessing he loved to sing and play guitar, even wanted to be a singer when he was younger and somehow ended up as a contractor. He even told you about his daughter Sarah, how beautiful and bright she was.

You told him your own story too. Leaving the Chicago QZ with your brother and sister when everything went to shit with FEDRA and the Fireflies. How you lost your sister soon after, bit by a straggling clicker in a gas station you were raiding. How your brother was the one to shoot her when she begged you both. Stories about traveling west with him, how he protected you until the day he died. You were chased by raiders looking to kill you both for your supplies, running through the forest just along the river outside of Jackson. You didn’t know the community was there, but it ended up being your saving grace. Your brother pushed you to run over the bridge, the men finally catching up to him. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. All you could do was scream as you heard a gunshot.

Joel held you as you cried, you comforted him when he needed it. He never told you what happened after he and Ellie left Jackson that first time, he didn’t have to if he didn’t ever want to. These vulnerable moments brought you closer together.

But it was never close enough to stop the cycle he developed of pushing you away after a few weeks together, getting so in his head about the situation, feeling guilty, or getting paranoid if he suspects that Tommy or Maria or his wife are catching on. His abandonment would last a few days or even a week at a time.

And you always wait it out, always come back when he wants you.

Like a dog with a bird at his door, you gave all of yourself to him.

It’s a late night at work for you. Joel parked himself on his usual stool, drinking ‘til last call after his buddies left, something he’d done often in the last few weeks.

Tommy finished restocking the fridges under the counter and tossed you the keys to lock up. As he leaves, he gives Joel a knowing look and you a sympathetic one.

Joel slaps his hands against the bar top, standing when you walk from behind the counter. His steps falter a bit as he gets used to the ground underneath him. Steadying him with an arm around his back, he wraps his own around your shoulders to keep you at his side.

“Let me walk you home, baby.” Words slurs together, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. It would be a bit endearing to see him without his usual stoic persona, but the fact that this is the third night this week that he’s gotten this drunk is concerning.

You end up carrying Joel all the way home, and just when you’re about to get him to his front door, his strength overpowers your own and he pulls you away with him, dragging you two in a drunken stupor down the road.

His steps are heavy and sporadic while he whistles some song in your ear, reaching the field. He flops down into the grass, his arms sneaking around your waist when lay down with him. Joel pulls you in close, kissing you deeply and sighing against your mouth. He smells of whiskey, leather, and musk; all combining to be uniquely Joel.

You couldn’t bring yourself to argue with him about getting home so you let him kiss you, let his hand under your shirt. You listened to him recollecting the night with the patrol guys. The only touches exchanged were his fingertips running up and down your side under your loose t-shirt and your cheek pressed against his denim-covered chest.

He brought up a song that was playing on a record at the bar, John Lennon’s Woman. He reminisced about hearing that song as a young teen for the first time, and telling you how a couple of years later he wrote the lyrics down for his tenth-grade girlfriend, telling her he wrote a poem for her.

“She read it, obviously knowing the song. She crumpled it up, said ‘That’s John Lennon, not you, Joel Miller,” and walked away from me. Needless to say, she broke up with me.”

“Wow, a breakup over plagiarism. Must’ve been a real stickler for academic honesty,” you reply, sending both of you into giggles.

His laugh faded slightly, the wrinkles still showing next to his eyes and his smile lines present, jovially commenting, “You probably barely even know who John Lennon is.”

He laughs but his words made you feel small. He teased you before about the age difference, but for some reason, you couldn’t brush this one off.

“Y’know, I still remember what life was like then.”

His hand finds your chin, tilting your head up with a sigh, “That’s not what I meant, darlin’, you know I was just teasin’. You probably didn’t even know it was John Lennon if you heard one of his songs when you were young, baby.” You sit up quickly, separating from him.

“He was a fucking Beatle! Like the biggest band ever. I might be younger than you, but I’m not stupid. They were around even before you were born, so yeah, I do know who John Lennon is. And did you know he cheated on his first wife, like, a bunch of times and left her for one of those women? Sound familiar, Joel? Actually, probably not, ‘cause you’d never actually admit how you feel about me and leave your wife, even though you love me,” your words come out before you even have a chance to think about them, and as you look at Joel, you can tell he’s letting his anger and annoyance come over him, his expression turning to stone, “I feel like you just see me as some naive girl who doesn’t know anything or hasn’t dealt with shit in this world -”

“You haven’t done nearly a fraction of what I’ve had to do in this world, darlin’, so don’t get started. You are a naive girl. You’ve always had someone to protect you, and I’ve always been the protector. You don’t know nothin’ about losing yourself or having to do the worst possible thing just to save yourself or your people,” his voice is low and unwavering with an intensity you hadn’t heard before. He’s trying to hurt you now, bringing up the protection that you’d been given by your brother before he died to save you, the fact that you’ve always had support from him or the people of Jackson.

Your eyes gloss over, blurring his hunched-over figure. His words are venom seeping through the well-worn cracks in your heart. Curling up into a ball and chin on your kneecaps, pressing down into the bone to keep your lips from trembling. How childish you must look like this. Joel doesn’t move to comfort you, staring a thousand yards ahead, emotionless.

“I know you think I don’t know the guilt or pain or heartbreak that you feel 'cause I’ve been protected for a lot of my life in this world. But being in love with you, being some dirty secret to you, has given me enough guilt, pain, and heartbreak to last for the rest of my life.”

A shaky breath slipped out of your parted lips, untangling your limbs from their locked positions to stand. You turn away, legs carrying you home. You don’t look back, wiping your tears away as quickly as they fall. You’re exhausted from him, from this whirlpool of loving and leaving that he’s pulled you into. A part of you breaks just the slightest bit more, a new piece for you to mend whenever he calls you back.

You should hate Joel. He pulled you in and pushed you away, and all you could do was fall, but now it felt like sinking. And your feet won’t ever touch the bottom.

He’s taken your love willingly, and only given you possessive invocations over your body, only made your constant pain burn hotter. Linen soaked up the tears that were left on your cheeks as you laid down in bed, exhaustion taking over.

The image you see feels warm, blurred around the edges. It was his home, no sign of his wife but evidence of Ellie in the comic book and worn-out sneakers near the chair across the room. Soft strums of a guitar float around, and your sights lock on him at the other end of the couch. You have this feeling that you need to say something to him, but can’t remember for the life of you what it is; the moment overwhelming. He’s singing and playing guitar, unabashed, and with a genuine smile only for you. Tender brown eyes glance away as someone walks into the room. Ellie’s holding a lopsided birthday cake with a few candles lit. It’s decorated with a sloppy frosting drawing of the ocean, a boat on the horizon. It was a reminder of the daydream you had vocalized to Joel, spending a life on the shore in a small sailboat together. The song he was playing softly fades into Happy Birthday, his smile matching Ellie’s. All you hear, before the image fades, is his voice as you lean in to blow out your candles, “Happy birthday, darlin’. I love you.”

The clinking of stacking glasses is the only sound echoing through the empty bar as you and Tommy close out. Joel’s been ignoring you, has been for a couple of weeks after your fight, spending his free time picking up shifts or staying at home with his family. The rag you’re holding moves in circles over the shiny bar top, reflecting your face back to you. You can see the pain in your eyes seeping back after spending the night putting on a face for your customers.

“You don’t need to keep on paintin’ that pretty smile on your face, hon. I hate seein’ you looking like you’re gonna crack your jaw from forcing yourself to look happy,” Tommy sighs, looking over at you while he continues to polish the glass in his hand. “What he’s doing to you, it’s wrong. You deserve to be treated with respect.”

“He wasn’t doin’ anything I wasn’t letting him do. It takes two, Tommy. Think you’d know that with a newborn around,” you try to lighten the mood, kicking yourself for still defending Joel.

“I know. But I also know how you look at him. Like you’ve been drownin’ at sea and he’s the one who’s come along to save you.” You finally look up from your reflection on the bar surface; the shame in your face becomes too much for you.

“At this point, it feels more like he’s the one pulling me under.”

Tommy sets the glass down and tosses the rag at it. Closing the small space between, he pulls you against his chest, arms around your shoulders. You can’t cry in front of him, embarrassed that he even knows about you and Joel in the first place, let alone that he feels sorry for you. You reciprocate the hug, gingerly wrapping your arms around his torso. The sound of the door swinging echoes in the large room. Tommy let’s you out of his comforting embrace and turns to meet the late patron.

Joel.

He’s standing across the room, eyes moving between his brother and you. He came looking for you, not expecting Tommy to still be closing out the bar with the baby at home. A furrowed brow creases lines between those soft, guilt-ridden brown eyes. The same look he’s had every time he’s shown up at your door at 2 AM to apologize, kiss you, show you how much he needs you. You fall every time, wanting to be his comfort, his relief. His lighthouse in the storm of remorse he’s constantly battling. Loyal to a fault.

At this moment, you wish for a wave to pull you under and sweep you into the tide.

Tommy asked him to wait outside.

Asked is generous. More like, grabbed Joel by the collar and dragged him outside like a scolded puppy, pointing his finger and giving him a strong, “Stay.”

He did as he was told, leaning against the post at the top of the stairs. Arms crossed over his chest and anxiously tapping his foot against the wood porch.

Both you and Tommy left at the same time. Joel would be knocked out on the spot if Tommy had his way, judging by the look on his face. The younger Miller wished you goodnight and you gave him a reassuring nod as you stayed back to face Joel.

Tommy’s out of sight and out of earshot before you break the silence.

“So…why’d you come here? Thought you’d be done with the naive girl.”

Joel raises to his full height, taking a hesitant step toward you. You don’t move away, but he keeps his distance in order to get his thoughts out.

“Darlin’, I’m -” he starts, pausng for a moment to gather his words, “I keep doin’ this, don’t I? Being happy with you, then pushing you away and hurting you. I’m sorry, sweet girl. I’m so, so sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I know what you’ve been through. You’re not naive. You’re mindful, attentive in ways I could never be. I hurt you. I haven’t done this the right way. I haven’t protected you like I should’ve 'cause I couldn’t stay away from you. I’m what you needed saving from and I’ve been too selfish to keep us both from drowning.”

You worry your lip between your teeth as tears gloss over your eyes. He steps closer to you, hands reaching up to cup your face. He’s not sure if you’re going to slip between his fingers, but he’s trying his best to keep you there with him. Tears fall, his thumbs working to wipe them away. Not letting a drop of you to slip away from his touch.

He can see the innerworkings of your brain in your eyes. He knows how to read you; he can see the battle in your head about whether or not he’s saved this time. Your voice is coated in emotion when you finally speak up again, “I’ve heard drowning is actually kind of a peaceful way to go, all things considered. And if it’s going to be with anyone, I’d choose you.”

That damn smile finds its way across your face in spite of your tears, and he can’t help but mirror it. It’s a welcome home for him, the light pulling him into your harbor - safe once again. He leans down to press a soft, tender kiss to your lips, deepening it for a moment when you reciprocate.

His hand finds yours when he pulls away, “Let’s go for a walk, sweet girl.”

Joel leads you away from the bar, walking down your street. You slow down when you get in front of your cottage, moving to walk down your path. He stops you, shaking his head and mouth ticking up in a small smile. His eyebrows are raised in a silent question, asking you to come with him. You fold easily, taking your place next to his side, hands intertwined.

He takes you to your spot where he’s set up a blanket and a couple of flickering lanterns for some light, but not enough to disturb the view of the moon.

“Joel…this is wonderful, I’m - I don’t know what to say, thank you.” Your hand squeezes his and he shrugs the praise off.

“Don’t thank me, baby, I should be doin’ this for you all the time. ‘S what you deserve.”

He’d gotten a couple of strange stares when he’d been walking down the road with a blanket under one arm and the lanterns in his hand. It occurred to him that people would think he was doing it for his wife, that they might ask her about it tomorrow and he’d be in for a line of questioning. But damn the consequences, he needed to do this for you. To give you something.

Joined hands pointing out more constellations he remembers and ones that Ellie knew, having asked her specifically to help him find the one for your zodiac. As the two of you lay on your backs, curled into each other, he’s taken back to the conversation Ellie and him had about their combined dream of a sheep ranch on the moon. Now that dream, at least for him, included you, too.

“I think it’d be nice out there. Without this world, feeling weightless.” He wishes for that down here, to lighten the load on his chest and the guilt on his shoulders. A different life.

You hum in agreement and he continues, “I wish I could just bring the moon down here, to take the weight off us, and to give Ellie the chance to get her dream.”

You’re quiet for a beat before your words wrap him in warmth, “If I could give you the moon, I would.”

You’d do anything for him, he knows that. And he’d do anything for you.

As those words cross his mind, the ring from his finger burns in his pocket. He’d taken it off to rid you both of the reminder of how this night would end, how every night would end. A little metal circle that has decided your fates, at least for now. His voice is slightly gravelly in his throat as he answers, “Maybe in another life, yeah?”

if you got to the end, i'm giving you a big smooch.

taglist: @swiftispunk (supportive bae)

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sbdskate · 11 months

Text

Laws Of Attraction (Part 5) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, angst, mature themes

Word Count: 4,371

A/N: In a shocking turn of events, this is in fact not the last part. I really wanted to put something out there this week but I’m still not quite finished with the last bit of the story. That being said, I think I found a good break point. I’m not even going to jinx myself by saying the next part is going to be the last, so TBD. Thank you again for your support. Please don’t be a ghost reader, and please feel free to comment or DM with any positive or constructive feedback. Enjoy!

You woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Perhaps that was your fatal flaw all along. The entire time you spent trying and failing to suppress and divert your feelings for the driver, you would have been better served leaning into them and letting them go in a controlled space.

In clearing the air with Daniel, you felt a weight lifted. You were still shocked by the revelation that the feelings were mutual at least in part, but there was comfort and stability in the understanding that had been reached. The lightness allowed you to finally stand in your confidence and share in the excitement of the next phase of negotiations. The season would be over in less than a month, with only two races left including Brazil. You were grateful for the light at the end of the tunnel.

You discreetly made your way to Red Bull hospitality on Thursday morning, bright and early in Sao Paolo before the chaos of media day began. There was only an admin there who greeted you showed you around. You made yourself comfortable in the empty kitchen area, where it was immediately obvious the difference in resources. It felt opulent yet comforting, especially compared to the aggressive orange and sparse theme of McLaren. Then again, spending any excessive time around McLaren hospitality or their garage nowadays just made you depressed and resentful.

It was early, even for you, and you desperately needed to caffeinate before the meeting. You saw the coffee machine, but no mugs in sight. You began opening drawers and cupboards in search of a vessel, cursing Christian Horner in your head. You finally found them, but of course they were on one of the upper shelves. You strained your body to extend as far as it would go, everything you needed just out of reach. While adjusting your balance on your tiptoes, you felt a warm body press against you and a shadow of an arm reaching over you. You closed your eyes and sharply inhaled, relishing the pressure on your back and the smell of familiar cologne. You opened your eyes again when he peeled away from you.

“I think you were looking for this?” Daniel handed you a mug. You took it, feeling your fingers brush again. The epiphany you had earlier was dispelled in an instant. Engaging in self pleasure may have acted as a momentary release, but it did not subdue the feelings that had taken firm root over the last few months. Masturbation was simply a light pruning for the sturdy tree that now grew in your garden that refused to be moved by earthquakes or hurricanes.

“I could’ve gotten it,” you grumbled avoiding eye contact. You had told yourself you had no reason to feel awkward about the other night, but you felt yourself shrinking in his presence nonetheless. His voice went up several decibels and he batted his eyes to mock you.

“Good morning, Daniel! Thanks so much for helping me! Good morning to you too, no problem, so happy I could help.” You rolled your eyes.

“Good morning. I promise I’ll be nicer in ten minutes once I’ve had my coffee.” You haphazardly raised your empty mug. He raised his hands and backed away, a small smirk on his face, but did not leave. He found a seat elsewhere in the kitchen, and you felt his eyes on your back as you went about your business.

You locked eyes when you turned around with a full cup. He innocently smiled and waved, while you forced an aggressive smile back. Leaning against the counter, you took a few sips of coffee without breaking eye contact. After a few minutes you joined him.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

“Are you done being a cunt?”

“Are you done being a douche canoe?” He snorted.

“I guess not.”

“Likewise.” You paused. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be here so early before the meeting.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Me neither. I’m excited, I think. And a little nervous.” He looked like a child on his first day of school, fidgety and unable to contain the energy requiring release. He couldn’t help the growing smile on his face. It was contagious, and you quickly found yourself smiling too.

“You should be – excited! Not nervous,” you quickly clarified. He looked down while he continued to bounce his knee.

“What if I make the wrong choice again?” he timidly whispered, though it could have been a question directed at you or the universe. It was no secret that many thought him leaving Red Bull in 2018 was the worst professional decision Daniel Ricciardo ever made, his short stint with Renault followed by his experience with McLaren as evidence. However, hindsight is 20/20. Perhaps he had too much hubris at the time, but he very validly thought he was being forced into a second driver position. How could he have known the series of unfortunate events that would follow? You did not fight the urge to hold his hand this time, gently placing yours on top of his in the middle of the table as you leaned in.

“There is no wrong choice this time,” you whispered back.

You truly believed that Daniel was in a win-win situation. Mercedes was a well-oiled, professional machine. The relationship there would be a symbiotic one. You thought they could help ground and focus Daniel, while Daniel could improve their public image and perhaps allow them to shed their somewhat stuffy, mechanical persona. Moreover, it would represent a clean slate with a new team. Conversely, you couldn’t deny how poetic a return to Red Bull would be. The place where Daniel spent so many years at the beginning of his career, it would be a momentous homecoming.

The Red Bull kitchen was quiet and empty. He looked at your hand. You were about to pull away but he lightly took hold of it before you could.

“Thanks,” he said in a soft voice to match the soft smile that graced his features.

“Of course. You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know.” He lazily rubbed your fingers with his thumb.

“Do you want to go over anything before the meeting?” You feebly attempted to redirect the conversation to be more professional, but you both knew there was no real effort as neither of you moved.

“Not really. I feel good this time.”

You remained in comfortable silence for a beat, lost in the exchange of energy that passed through one another. Your phone buzzed, pulling you away from the moment temporarily. Your face fell slightly. He looked at you expectantly.

“Well, you’re stuck with me today. The partner’s tied up with something.” You raised your gaze to meet his, searching for some kind of approval. He feigned distress.

“Oh no, what will I do? You’ve only handled 70% of this whole process on your own.” You squinted, skeptical of his confirmation.

“You trust a meager, low level associate to handle the entire trajectory of your future?”

“At this point, I trust you with my life.”

It was hard to tell whether he was being overdramatic for comedic effect or genuine. Foot steps in the distance pulled you from your trance, your hands quickly recoiling. With his back to the entry, he didn’t miss the chance to give you a wink and a smile that made you want to melt into the floor. Instead, you rolled your eyes in response but your bashful smile gave you away. You stood up when you saw your expected hosts enter.

“My two favorite people!”

“Good morning, Christian. I appreciate it, but you know flattery doesn’t work with me,” you quipped as you shook hands. When he wasn’t pissing off the rest of the grid, Christian really was quite the charmer when he wanted to be.

“On the contrary, it will get you everywhere.” The smile didn’t leave his face when he turned to Daniel, arms wide open. Their energy was well matched as they embraced in a warm hug. As happy as the driver was last week with his points finish, he seemed immensely more comfortable now.

When they separated, Christian looked at you again.

“What is this? Coffee and no Red Bull?” he teased.

“Sorry, had a bad experience in law school with energy drinks I’m afraid. Nothing personal. Though I was beginning to wonder whether the coffee machine was for decoration only.”

“They hide the mugs on purpose,” Daniel chimed in. Given the dimply smile and his tone, you would think he was joking but knew he was absolutely telling the truth.

“He leaves for four years, comes back, and thinks he owns the place and can share company secrets.”

You had seen it several times now, but it amazed you how easy their relationship seemed. Although technically Mercedes was not out of the question, you already knew where Daniel’s heart was. It was now just a matter of ironing out the details.

Christian and the Red Bull lawyer joined you at the table in the kitchen. It was a nice change of setting, the informality of it made the weight of the discussion feel a bit lighter. The process with them was easy, especially compared to McLaren and even Mercedes. While it was slightly less formal, at all times you felt respected. Not once did anyone assume you were an admin or paralegal, which admittedly is a low bar. But even beyond that, especially with the partner’s absence, you were never treated as a subordinate and your professional capabilities were never called into question. Of course this process was not about you, but in your opinion you believed choice of outside counsel was an extension of the type of work environment your client could expect. Red Bull had been a pleasant surprise in this respect.

It was all smiles when you exchanged handshakes as you parted ways. You and Daniel were shown out the back door to avoid a few media that had just started to arrive at the paddock. You walked behind the teams’ hospitality stations so that you could join the main entry of the paddock without raising suspicion.

“So. How do you think it went?” you casually asked. You didn’t want your own opinion to taint whatever his genuine response may be.

“Honestly… I think it went really well.” The dimply smile you had become so fond of returned to his face.

“Honestly… me too.” You allowed yourself to show your enthusiasm, feeling yourself break into a wide grin. Away and hidden from the main walk of the paddock, he grabbed your hands and you both quietly squealed and jumped up and down. After a few seconds when you stopped and regained composure, he asked:

“So, what’s next?”

“Well, that depends on you. If you think you’re ready to pull the trigger with Red Bull, you let me know ASAP and assuming we’ve already nixed any dealbreakers that would’ve been in their offer, we go through everything again with a fine-tooth comb, see if they’re able to come up on anything and sign.”

“And Mercedes?”

“We keep them in play until everything is in writing and executed. No need to have a PR disaster like Alpine.” You were, of course, referring to the unfortunate circumstances of Alpine prematurely announcing Oscar Piastri as their second driver for 2023. He chuckled as you continued walking towards McLaren. You could hear the hustle and bustle from the press getting louder as more people began to arrive. He paused just before you were about to turn the corner and enter the circus.

“I want to be at Red Bull,” he said definitively. You smiled.

“Ok then. I’ll get to work.” He gave you an encouraging fist bump before taking a deep breath, knowing this would be the last bit of downtime you both had for the rest of the weekend, reluctant to leave the nest of the quiet sanctuary you shared just behind the organized chaos.

“Shall we?”

You sighed. “No time better than the present.”

Brazil was an eventful whirlwind. It was no surprise to you that Daniel continued to skillfully navigate an onslaught of questions about his future in the sport on press day and the rest of the weekend. On Saturday, the two of you gossiped excitedly when Kevin Magnussen got pole in qualifying despite Daniel’s own mediocre performance. Obviously the sport was cut throat, but everyone couldn’t help but root for the Haas underdog. There was a buzz during the sprint, Daniel just out of reach of the points in p11. Unfortunately, the race itself ended up resulting in a DNF for both McLaren boys. With each day of events, Daniel’s mood seemed to sour despite the positive steps being taken behind the scenes. Of course DNF-ing on what could be his second to last race ever is not what anyone wanted. However, while you sympathized for Daniel, that’s not what you were focused on. There was the celebration of George’s first win with Lewis also on the podium, but then there was the internal team drama you watched unfold at Red Bull.

You anxiously waited out the post-race interview process so that you could update your client. If there was any question on what the path forward was before, it became crystal clear today.

As he walked through the paddock eager to get to his drivers room for some solitude, he saw you practically bouncing on your toes. He was a little annoyed to see you in such high spirits after an abysmal race, but it also made him relax a bit.

“I should DNF more often if it makes you this happy,” he dryly joked as he approached you. You should have been used to this song and dance by now. He makes a questionably flirtatious comment, you blush and get flustered, and after a bit of fumbling you redirect course and get back to business. You knew he wouldn’t change his behavior, no matter how many times you halfheartedly scolded or ignored him. It shouldn’t make you flustered any more, but there was excitement in not knowing whether there was any truth behind it. And as much as you hated to admit it, you liked it. But that was before your conversation in Mexico, where you divulged so much about your own inner turmoil. You had made yourself vulnerable. After that, you had assumed he would stop out of respect. What was a thrill before now felt like a cruel joke at your expense.

“Very funny,” you deadpanned. “I have some important news to share with you, can we go somewhere private to discuss?”

“You’re not going to buy me dinner first?” He had said this before, but it wasn’t landing like it used to.

“You’re going to have to buy yourself a new lawyer if you keep this act up.” For someone who didn’t finish the race, he was being awfully cocky today. And by goodness, did it make you feel things.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who said you wanted to be alone with me -”

“Daniel.” He usually stopped after the first rebuttal.

“Not that I’m mad at it-“

Your previous excitement began to sour in your mouth as your heartbeat quickened. You grabbed his wrist and dragged him through McLaren hospitality to his drivers room. You didn’t care who saw or what it looked like. You practically pushed him in and shut the door behind you. His eyes widened as you got in his face.

“Oh shit, is this actually happening?” he began to pull at his shirt.

“What?! No. Shut up. What is wrong with you today?”

“Oh come on, I was just joking! You know I always do this.”

“No.” You pushed your pointer finger into his chest. “Today, you’re being an ass. I don’t know if this is you acting out after a shitty race or what, but pull it together. You are not a 21 year old frat boy, you’re a 33 year old world class athlete with a fully developed frontal lobe - who is now wasting my time, and rest assured, I am billing you for it. And if you stopped your inappropriate jokes for two fucking seconds and let me do my job, I would have told you that there’s a solid chance you can be on the grid in 2024 in a fucking Red Bull. Thought you might want to know.”

You had backed him into a wall and were inches away from his face, huffing and puffing. You were so mad, that one man could make you so infuriated and horny at the same time. His eyes were still the size of dinner plates, but his expression had fallen slightly. It was his turn to blush. He had been surrounded by yes-men for so long, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been chastised like this.

“I’m sorry-” You continued, your tone somewhat more even.

“Max wouldn’t let Checo through today despite what it would mean for the driver’s and constructor’s championships because he thinks Checo purposefully sabotaged him during qualifying in Monaco. The girls are fighting which is more bad PR for Red Bull, Checo’s contract is up next year, and if this dynamic continues between the two drivers then there’s a good chance they won’t renew it.”

“That’s great news-” You cut him off again.

“Am I a joke to you? Because I know you wouldn’t be making these comments if I was a man. I know you thought I was some secretary when we first met, but I really thought I had earned your respect throughout this process.” He looked at you now wearing the pink pantsuit you’d worn on that fateful first day.

“Can I just-”

“I’ve had to deal with so many mediocre men with undeserved self-inflated egos my entire life. I’ve dated them, I’ve been in class with them, I’ve worked with them, I’ve worked for them – especially the last five years at this godforsaken law firm. Lord knows I don’t need another one. I’ve had to work twice as hard and be better than them to prove myself as an equal. And even with all that, no matter what, as soon as I leave the room I’m the punchline of some joke I never asked or wanted to be a part of because I have boobs. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot initially but I really thought you were different. But no-”

One second you were ranting, the next you were cut off by lips crashing into yours. In your fury you missed his warm brown eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. In a flash he had grabbed the lapel of your suit jacket to bring you towards him, your hands landing firmly on his chest. Fireworks flashed behind your eyelids and for a moment you forgot what day it was, where you were, and who you were. You don’t know how long it lasted. You should have pulled away. You definitely shouldn’t have kissed back. But the taste of saline on him from the demands of the day and the scruff of his beard on your chin and cheeks made you want to stay. You smelled his cologne mixed with musk and, what was that, aftershave? Instead, he pulled away first.

You blinked a few times, jaw slack. You brought a hand to your lips, half to make sure they were still there but also for confirmation that you didn’t just hallucinate.

“Sorry, it was the only way I could think to get you to shut up so I could get a word in edgewise. If you’d let me talk, I would say I think you’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met. You’re smart, witty, funny, and no, it doesn’t hurt that you’re as good looking as I am. You think I give a fuck about billing? I would spend my entire fortune down to nothing if it meant I got to spend more time with you. I’ve known for weeks I wanted to go to Red Bull and I didn’t tell you until three days ago because as excited as I am about figuring out what I’m doing next year, I’m equally dreading it because as soon as I sign that means you leave. When you’re not in the room I only sing your highest praises. So yes, of course I respect you. And I realize, kissing you just now may have proved your point, and I’m sorry about that. And you’re right that I’ve been a cunt today and a lot of this weekend, and I’m sorry about that too.”

There had been very few times in your life where you were left speechless, and this was one of them. It was literally your job to be good with words, and right now they failed you.

“And I know you’re going to say ‘let’s forget that this ever happened’ and I’ll move on and get back to business, but I can promise you I won’t. I’ll never tell another soul for your sake, because I don’t want you to lose your job, but I refuse to forget this, our conversation in Mexico, or that Sunday in Austin. You’re unforgettable f/n l/n.”

You stood there in silence for a few moments. Your adrenaline was through the roof and your mind was blank. He was clearly looking for a response, yet you had none. You did your best to break the tension.

“Well if your goal was to get me to shut up, you succeeded.”

“Honestly, I’m as shocked as you are,” he said with a small laugh. There was another long pause. “I shouldn’t have said all of that, I’m sorry.” You gave him a knowing smile.

“No you’re not.” He smirked.

“Yeah, not really.” You had become particularly focused on a speck of dirt on the floor, but finally returned his gaze.

“You know nothing can happen,” you whispered. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact that was directed at yourself as much as him. You unsuccessfully tried to hide the disappointment in your voice. He refused to look away from you even when you continued to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, I know.”

Silence descended again. There was nothing else to say. You realized through your tirade and this whole exchange you had been standing dangerously close to one another, and you hadn’t backed away after the kiss. You could feel his heartbeat on your chest, and you were pretty sure he could hear yours. You separated yourself and tried to pick up whatever pieces of dignity you had left. You straightened out your suit jacket and cleared your throat.

“I’m going to try to add some clauses in the contract for 2024 primary driver placement. They’ll almost certainly come back with red lines to make them conditional, perhaps based on Checo’s performance and/or your own performance in the sim, but Horner loves you so much that I think they’ll be receptive to the idea overall.” Your heart hurt at how crestfallen he looked.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’ll send you a draft before it goes to Red Bull. You can expect deliverables by tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

“Assuming everything goes smoothly, I anticipate the agreement to be fully executed by Abu Dhabi. Does that sound like a reasonable timeline?”

He was incredulous at how quickly you could shut everything off. He had spilled his heart to you and in return he received merely an acknowledgement before you put an abrupt end to the conversation. You had done it so many times before to a lesser extent that he shouldn’t have been surprised by how quickly your walls went back up, but he somehow thought this time would be different.

“Yeah,” he finally answered. “But… I want to wait until after the race. I don’t want to have to worry about sneaking away in the middle of practice or qualifying.” It was his way of saying he wanted you there for the duration of the race weekend, he had gotten used to your presence over the last three months. Despite whatever this altercation did to your relationship, professional or otherwise, he couldn’t imagine finishing the tumultuous season without you by his side. He hoped you would pick up the subtlety, but it went over your head.

“I don’t know Daniel, Red Bull probably has a million celebratory events immediately afterwards seeing as their driver won the championship and they won the constructor’s. I imagine McLaren also has a bunch of end of season events planned as well that you’ll have to attend.”

“Can we ask if they can spend an extra day in the country?”

“If you want to wait until after the season is over I totally get it, it might just be easier if we try to schedule something at Milton Keynes the following week.” For someone so smart you were also awfully dense. He tried to come up with a logical explanation that you would be willing to go along with.

“I just thought it would be smart to be able to announce this within a few days after the end of the season, where there’s still buzz and interest and before we get too far into winter break. Plus then it would give the team a few days to come up with a press release still within that timeframe.”

You couldn’t argue that such timing would be better publicity for both him and Red Bull.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. No promises, but I’ll reach out to Red Bull to see what their schedule is like.”

He was satisfied with the victory, no matter how small.

“Is there anything else?” The words felt hollow as they left your mouth. He looked away, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No, I guess not,” he said in defeat. You felt terrible. There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but saying them out loud would only serve to stoke the wildfire you so desperately wanted to put out.

“I’ll see you next week in Abu Dhabi,” you said meekly. You left the room, ending the exchange in a stalemate with neither party satisfied.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233

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eddies-house · 11 months

Text

The Under-Ground

Chapter One - Welcome to The Under-Ground

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

5K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I finished this sooner than I thought I would...pls let me know what you think, I am having so much fun writing this so far and I can't wait to keep going

Masterlist

Next ->

The chill Autumn air infiltrated the apartment and left you shivering, the wool blanket atop your comforter did little to aid you in getting warm. That’s what five hundred dollars a month got you in small town Hawkins, it's what you could afford. Old striped wallpaper that alternated a faded baby blue and pale yellow that seemed to have been glued to the wall since the 70’s barely clung to the walls, a majority of it peeling and begging to be torn off. The stained white linoleum throughout the kitchen had seen better days and the carpet in the living room and bedroom was dingy, so dingy that no vacuum could possibly come close to cleaning it. The lock on the door was on the verge of breaking and almost didn’t work–almost. And of course the heater was definitely broken, the creepy landlord would take his sweet time to fix it, leaving you with a freezing apartment as the seasons changed and Hawkins welcomed the fall. A broke college student by day and a barista by night, these are the cards you were dealt for now.

Classes at the community college had finished for the day, rotating to the night courses. A few papers were due next week, one for your business class on the effects of product promotion in business growth that happened to be stressing you out extra. Your fingers tapped away at your laptop from your mattress nestled in the corner on the floor of your tiny bedroom. 4:30PM, the time in the corner of the screen read, just half an hour before your shift at The Under-Ground. With a groan, you click save on the document and shut the laptop which was certain to be opened later tonight after your shift only to continue the torturous essay. Begrudgingly you began your pre-work ritual of grabbing whatever snack or meal you had in the fridge, scarfing it down, and then tidying your appearance a bit while listening to your daily playlist named “Eh” on Spotify. Today’s vibe was set by Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.

The rusty bathroom faucet sputtered water before allowing a full stream to flow into the sink. You splashed some water on your face to feel more alive although it may have been a mistake in hindsight since the apartment was already cold and rather than feeling refreshed, you felt like a wet dog. Dabbing your face with a towel hanging from over the rod where the tie dye shower curtain hung as well, you collected any leftover mascara from the previous night beneath your waterline and around your eyelids. Moving to the compact closet in the bedroom, a simple outfit of jeans and a maroon knitted sweater you’d ‘claimed’ from the lost and found at the college were chosen and paired with your only signature docs. Lastly, your apron was tied around your waist in a neat knot.

Grabbing your keys from the laminate countertop and shoving your laptop in your bag, you make your way through the damaged and scratched up wooden door that was the entrance to your apartment, the number seven nailed to the front of it. “God dammit.” you jam your key in and out of the lock, twisting and repeating until it finally clicks in place. The door leads right outside into the biting air and you scurry down the concrete stairs while avoiding touching the nasty railing, Mrs. Harrison’s chubby cat, Raphael is perched right at the bottom like he always is. His large green irises stare up at you, giving the appearance that he was just a fluffy ball of black fur with eyes. “Ralphy” you mumble your nickname for him affectionately as you steal a pat from his head on your way out of the apartments, a small meow chiming through the air.

The Under-Ground wasn’t a far walk but it sure did seem that way the colder it got. You’d been working there since the Spring and so far had no issues with weather but you knew it would bite you at some point. The walk through downtown Hawkins is crisp and cloudy, leaves blowing delicately from the trees and laying perfectly in the street, colors varying from red, orange, and brown. It was mid September. Patrons wander about the streets attending to their daily errands. Teenagers mess around at the entrance of The Hideout, no doubt attempting to use their fake IDs only to be turned away by the bouncer, Stan.

Joyce Byers cleans the storefront window of Melvald’s, taking care to not miss a single streak. Her face lights up as her son, Will approaches the store. Max Mayfield skateboards past you down the sidewalk at lightning speed, the only reason you know it's her is a flash of her flaming red hair as well as Lucas Sinclair trying to keep up with her on his own board, a nervous expression written on his features as he carefully maneuvers. Nancy Wheeler hurriedly gets into her car, wrapping up her workday at The Hawkins Post while Jonathan Byers gives her cheek a kiss and heads over toward Will and Joyce.

The Under-Ground comes into view as you round the corner, the brick building vacant of customers at the moment from what you can tell through the windows. The evening rush hasn’t picked up yet, usually kicking in at around six when the college students like yourself would make themselves at home and study over lattes and espresso shots. The bell chimes above the door as you pull it open, the smell of coffee beans and pastries flooding your nose and some upbeat jazz playing through the speakers. Robin sits atop the counter much to the boss, Ronnie's dismay but he’s not around to scold her. Her dirty blonde bob is freshly trimmed, bangs laying just right across her forehead while she has a lollipop sticking out her mouth and she skims through a magazine lazily. One leg is hitched up onto the counter with her bright yellow converse on display, knee to her chest. She’s wearing jeans with a few holes and a vintage tee. Her bright blue eyes glance up and land on you, face lighting up as she greets you. “Hey, Robin!” you greet back, making your way behind the counter to clock in on the computer.

“You’re lucky, it’s been dead for hours.” she says while setting aside the magazine. “Think it’s gonna rain too so it’ll probably stay that way.” she continues.

“Good, I can probably catch up on some homework then.” you hum, punching in your employee number.

“Oh and some new guy is supposed to close with you tonight, I think you’re training him.” she mentions.

“So, no catching up on homework then.” you sigh. Training someone new wasn't necessarily difficult however it was draining since you already knew how to do everything like the back of your hand. Dumbing it all down always took a minute since you had to slow down and give them time to catch on.

“Did Ronnie say who?” you ask, turning to face Robin. Hawkins was small which meant that everyone knew everyone. Which was unfortunate sometimes since that also meant everyone knew everyone's business.

Robin hops off the counter, hair bouncing as she does. “Nope, I just know that it's some dude.” she crunches down on her lollipop and discards the stick in the garbage a few feet away.

With a sigh, you head to the back room to put your bag in your locker only to find Steve lounging at the lunch table, his feet crossed on top of it while scrolling through his phone and two legs of the chair he occupies off the ground as he balances. Today he sports some red corduroy pants and an ivory crewneck sweater finished off with converse, just like Robin’s, only black. “What’s up?” he greets, not once looking up from his phone.

“Scrolling through Tinder again, Stevie?” you mock while setting your bag in your locker for safe keeping, hooking the lock around the metal and clicking it into place.

“Actually, it’s Grindr.” he says matter of factly.

“My bad, you find anyone cute?” you ask, peering over his shoulder, his aftershave smelling subtle and pleasant.

He lands on a cute blonde guy with green eyes, most likely from a town over. “Not really.” he exhales, running a hand through his voluminous hair.

“Well what about him? He’s pretty cute.” you encourage.

“Dude, it says he likes to do Karaoke for fun.” he glances behind at you with a raised brow. You shrug, unaware of why that would deter him.

“If that's not a red flag, I don’t know what is.” he states, shutting his phone off and shoving it in his pocket while standing, making his way to the vending machine. “What happened to me, Socks? I used to pull 'em left and right and now no guy or girl will give me the time of day.” Socks was your nickname given by Steve and Robin after the dreadful incident where a pipe burst from one of the sinks and you happened to be standing in front of it, the bottom half of your pants along with your socks becoming soaked. The rest of the evening you worked your shift without shoes, only in your sopping wet socks with your jeans rolled up. It had been an ongoing joke since, although you always reminded them how horrible it is to go around in wet shoes, the squeaky sound they would make against the floor and the squishiness of the soles. They always disagreed, insisting that it would be worse to work in only socks and how they’d just opt to continue wearing the drenched shoes.

“Steve, I think Grindr and Tinder and all the dating apps might be giving you unrealistic expectations.” you tell him truthfully.

“Okay, but who the hell else am I gonna find in Hawkins? Been there, done that, this is my only option." He inserts a dollar into the vending machine and punches in his selection, shortly after a bag of pretzels falls.

“Pretzels, Steve? Really?” you taunt. “How bland of you.” you deadpan. He pulls open the packaging and tosses a pretzel in his mouth all while giving you his signature pout. “Maybe that's your issue, you dumb yourself down for these people you don’t even know.” you continue.

“Wow.” he raises his arms in disbelief, a hint of humor evident. “That…” he flings a pretzel at you, hitting your chest. “...was mean.” he sasses. “But probably true.” he finishes. “Don’t you have a job or something?” his head tilts toward the door.

“Yeah, and so do you.” you shoot back, grabbing his apron from where it hung over one of the breakroom chairs and throwing it at him.

Exiting the room, you hear Steve chime in one more time. “I’m off in like fifteen!” Your shifts always overlapped with Steve and Robin’s, them usually taking the morning to afternoon shift and you taking over closing. Ronnie would always hang out in the back office so you didn’t have to close alone but that was pretty much the extent of his labor. The beans needed to be ground for the next day, chairs stacked on the tables, bathroom tidied, ingredients prepped, counters wiped down, etc. And you were always the one to do it, not that you minded so much. Ronnie never micromanaged and you had gotten good at closing so it became somewhat of a meditation time. The town winded down and the dim lighting provided a relaxing glow, almost as if you were in a spa. You could at least pretend anyway.

Robin was making herself a latte, carefully pouring the milk over the coffee in an attempt to make a design. She’d been practicing for weeks with no success. “Dammit! Another wasted latte!” she slams the small pitcher of cream onto the counter.

“That for me?” you question over her shoulder, spotting the blob of white draped over the coffee. You ended up drinking them most of the time, always looking forward to your daily latte handcrafted by Robin.

Letting a breath out, she hangs her head in defeat. “It is now.”

Steve saunters out from the back, stopping in his tracks right next to Robin. “Another one? Seriously?” he mutters before continuing to the espresso machine to make probably his fourth drink of the day.

“When is the new guy scheduled to come in?” you ask as you pour yourself an iced coffee. Everyone was allowed one free drink a day however it was never enforced unless the owner, Ronnie’s mom was around. She owned The Under-Ground while her husband owned The Hideout.

“5:30, I think?” Robin answers. The clock on the register currently reads 5:20. Steve glances at you, trying to hide a smirk as he quickly looks in the other direction.

“What?” you demand. Shaking his head he continues pouring an espresso shot into paper to go cup. A tug on his sleeve doesn’t get him to budge. “Steve, why did you give me that look?!” you hound him.

“Nothing!” he raises his hands in defense, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Steve.” you narrow your eyes at him, brows knit in frustration.

“Yeah, Steve. What do you know that I don’t?” Robin steps towards him while crossing her arms in offense.

“Nothing!” He lies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Steve.” Robin glares at him.

“Y’know, this is already getting to me.” he points to his cup. “I gotta run to the bathroom.” he rushes to the back once again, holding his stomach and pretending to grimace in pain.

“What’s up with him?” you look at Robin, the two of you left standing there without any idea. She shrugs, handing you the botched latte she just made.

Pushing aside your theories, you begin setting up for your shift, restocking the cups and making sure there’s enough whip cream in the canister. The Under-Ground had a very cozy vibe, dark mahogany woods decorating the interior, little twinkly lights draped above the windows, and a snug book nook tucked away in the back corner with large shelves that took up the whole wall. Accompanying it are a few tables and chairs, their wood matching the counter and on top of each table sits various houseplants that you’d have to remind yourself to water.

Robin tops off the pastries as she always does at the end of her shift, adding some chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins, brownies, and a brand new lemon loaf to the case. She finishes off by wiping off the glass with a rag and then ensures the display of gift cards and bags of coffee beans on the counter is dusted off and pristine.

You busy yourself by restocking the to-go sandwiches in the open cooler at the front of the counter, making a note to also grab a few more parfaits from the back since those were running low as well. A few books are scattered among one of the tables so you take it upon yourself to collect them and tuck them neatly back on the book shelf. Other than that, nothing else is left to do and you should be ready to start training the new hire without any distractions. You reward yourself by sipping on the latte, the bitter taste gracing your tongue and warmth coating your throat. Robin disappears to the back briefly, coming back out with her bag while shoving her apron into it, ready to clock out the second it hits 5:30.

The roaring of an engine suddenly echoes in the streets, an obnoxious sputtering filling your ears as you glance up and out of the front window. It comes to a screeching halt as a motorcycle pulls up into one of the parking spots horizontally rather than vertically like the rest of the vehicles. Jackass, you think to yourself as the owner kicks the kickstand down. He wears a standard black motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and some combat boots, a walking stereotype for some kind of punk ass kid.

Jim Hopper catches him, his cop car parked a few spaces away while he does his crossword in the driver’s seat. You can’t quite make out what's being said but as Hopper exits his car in a hurry, you can tell they have most likely had run-ins like this before. The jackass looks up in aggravation as he still straddles the bike, the sky reflected in the visor of his helmet. Hopper appears to be telling him off but not giving him a ticket when he most definitely should. Jackass reparks the bike correctly, gesturing to it as if he’d performed a magic trick, Hopper with a hand on his hip and a scowl on his face. He points a finger at him, muttering one last thing before retreating back to his own car, eyes never leaving the guy.

Steve emerges from the back again, carefully. “Shit.” he mumbles.

Your gaze moves from the scene outside to behind you at Steve who is also now looking out the window. This provokes you to look back outside. Just as you’re about to ask, the jackass removes his helmet, revealing a head of wild brunette curls, his hand adorned in chunky rings as he grips the helmet. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to inputting some inventory in the computer. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he’s making his way toward the door. “Are you kidding me?” you say under your breath.

“Thought trendy coffee wasn’t his style.” you say to no one in particular. Steve inhales as if waiting for some kind of impact.

“Oh…” Robin says in some kind of realization.

The bell above the door rings as he swings it open, striding across the shop and in front of the counter, his eyes are a dark abyss as he looks from you to Robin and then to Steve.

“Munson.” Steve acknowledges him.

“Harrington.” he says back, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue. Robin’s eyes are wide as they shift between you two.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you bite, voice full of malice as you glare up at him.

Bringing his hand to his chest, his face contorting into a mock pout, he sets the helmet on the counter. “Ouch. That make you feel better, sweetheart?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

You scoff about to tell him to leave but he just continues. “Make you feel all big and bad? Get it out of your system yet?” he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh no.” Robin says quietly, leaning over you to clock out and then subtly making her way around the counter.

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and find someone else to dick around with?” you snap, grabbing his helmet and forcing it into his hands.

A cocky look takes over his features. “Well what if I’m a paying customer?”

“I have the right to refuse service so, I’m refusing.” you can feel anger coursing through your veins, blood running hot.

“That’s unfortunate.” he frowns, moving to make his way behind the counter. “For you.” his stare burns into you, two black holes nearly swallowing you up.

“I don’t have time-” you begin but are cut off when he reaches over you and starts typing away at the computer, clocking in. His cheap cologne and cigarette smoke flood your nose.

Steve looks at you apologetically as Eddie passes him on his way to the back. A silence lingers as you process that you’ll be forced to work with the one person in this town you can’t stand. Eddie Munson was the new hire and of course he had to be scheduled on the closing shift with you. Life couldn’t get any worse than this, a shitty apartment, and now a shitty job that you used to love combined with mountains of homework. Your eternal hell. Work was supposed to be a place you could briefly escape. Sure it was still work but you didn’t mind.

“Steve!” both you and Robin scold him at the same time. He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more yelling.

“You knew Ronnie hired him and you just didn’t tell me!” you seethe. “You could have warned me! I could have switched shifts or something-or, or–or tell Ronnie he’s a criminal or something! So he wouldn’t get hired!” your eyes are bulging out of your head as you reprimand the poor guy.

“Okay, see, the way you're reacting right now doesn’t give me any confidence that you would have reacted any differently if I told you earlier.” Steve explains while clocking out.

“So you think springing it on her like that was any better!” Robin says loudly. Steve contemplates for a moment.

“Look, Socks. I’m sorry.” he apologizes sincerely.

“Socks?” Eddie stands in the doorway that leads to the back, now free of his leather jacket and wearing a black Metallica tee. “What kinda fucked up thing did you do for a nickname like that?” he asks, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, kill me now.” you drag your hands down your face in agony. Steve and Robin slowly make their way toward the front door, looking at you sympathetically.

“See you tomorrow?” Robin awkwardly points finger guns at you before they speed up and shuffle out the door.

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms limply to your sides. Turning around, Eddie is about to speak up again but you cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it. You don’t talk unless it's about work. I’ll train you today and then I’ll ask Ronnie to move you to mornings or something.” you tell him in one breath.

He laughs before replying. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re stuck with me, doll.” he chuckles lowly. “I only work nights.” he says with that stupid grin.

“Who did I piss off for this to happen?” you mumble to yourself, rubbing at your temples. “Put this on.” you shove an apron at his chest.

He grunts at the impact. “No.” he simply says, refusing to grab it from you. His expression is blank.

Scoffing, you shove it against him even harder. “This is work. We work here. Stop acting like a damn child.” you say sternly.

Now taking the apron in his hand, you think he’s finally come to his senses until he bunches it up and tosses it onto one of the counters, eliciting a groan from you. You were foolish to think he would play nice.

–

Trying to train Eddie was as useful as training a fly. He didn’t listen and would purposely mess things up claiming he didn’t know any better and he almost charged one of your only customers that night double the actual cost. It was like watching a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him or all hell would break loose. The cherry on top was all the snide comments he would make which led to more bickering.

When it came to closing time at 9:00, you were exhausted and could practically feel the eyebags hanging off your face. There was not enough espresso in the world to keep up with Eddie’s antics. You were counting the money from the register, making sure all was accounted for, Eddie watching as he was supposed to be learning when really he was zoned out.

“Alright, Socks, are we done here?” he says with a bored tone.

You glance between him and the cash, still counting under your breath while ignoring him. Poking your arm, he tries again. “Socks. I got things to do.” he continues. “Hey, I’m talking to you–”

“--Oh my god, just go.” you break, finally completing your counting and setting the money back in the drawer neatly.

“Fuck yeah.” he whispers, rushing to the back to collect his things. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you only hope he quits before you have to work another shift with him. Eddie wasn’t just an asshole, he was the asshole who was partially responsible for your shitty high school experience. You know it's dumb, there’s no reason to let something keep a hold on you for so long but it just does. It makes you cringe, it's like the equivalent to peaking in high school but opposite, and yet you can’t seem to look past it.

Nothing but the twinkly lights and the dim overhead lights lit up the shop, a moment of peace taking over you while the town outside laid itself to rest. Shutting off the music and untying your apron to drape it over your arm, you do one more scan to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. Satisfied, you head to the back to retrieve your bag. Eddie passes you, almost running you over on his way out, his stupid helmet in hand.

“See ya tomorrow, Socks.” he salutes as he clocks out, shortly after you hear the bell chime signaling that he had left. He was overusing that nickname but you knew it would only please him to call it out. You had to keep your cool until he figured out he didn’t fit in here and quit. Exhaling, you unlock your locker, grabbing your bag and tossing your apron in before exiting and heading for the door.

The door is locked and double checked as you step out onto the sidewalk only to find that it was still raining. Just my luck. Eddie’s dumb motorcycle roars to life again a few feet away from you, a nuisance to the tranquil town around you. Rolling your eyes, you begin your damp journey home. It’s not until you’re in front of the movie theater that you hear that damn bike behind you. You think he’s going to speed past you, maybe splash some water on you while he’s at it but the engine rumbles as if right next to you–which it was.

“Are you lost?” you spit, continuing to walk.

He rides beside you slowly, irritating you to your core. “Need a ride home?” he asks, slightly muffled by his helmet.

You huff before responding. “No. I don’t need anything from you. Get the hell out of here.” You keep your gaze straight ahead as you walk, him still following behind.

“Sweetheart–”

“--Do NOT call me that. Ever. Again.” you scold, taking a moment to point your finger at him, your face displaying disdain toward him.

“Look, I may be an asshole but it's raining. I can give you a ride.” he coaxes but it doesn’t work. You keep on, the rain drops collecting on your eyelashes.

“Get bent, Eddie.” you say, now walking faster, hoping to evade him.

He lifts the visor on the helmet, now showing his eyes as he keeps up with you. “Get on the damn bike.”

“Fuck you.” you snap at him.

Desperate, you start jogging across the crosswalk and that's when he gives up. Glancing behind you, he flips the visor down and revs the bike before speeding off. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play into his little sadist games. Life was already steamrolling you and you did not need some jackass to factor into it. After a few minutes of walking, you finally rounded the corner and the faded powder blue apartments came into view, street lights illuminating the way. The streets were sleek with rain and oil, giving off reflections of the traffic lights and buildings. You were careful to scurry your way across the parking lot to avoid any of the creeps that hung around late at night. It wasn’t exactly the best area, being notorious for drug deals and any other illegal side hustles.

Raphael’s spot on the stairs was vacant due to the downpour which you frowned at, you always looked forward to seeing him upon coming home. A few skeezy looking men stood nearby however they seemed to be involved in their own drama as they argued and took no interest in you. Gratefully, you continued quietly up the stairs and hurriedly unlocked the door, jamming the key in the lock until it gave out to you.

Slipping into your nightly routine, you begin to unwind as much as you can. A quick shower awaited you since the hot water was limited and you couldn’t wait to munch on one of the sandwiches you snagged from work. In your defense Ronnie had ordered way too many for the week and the back fridge was overflowing with them. The local deli they came from, Anderson’s had some fairly good quality meats and cheeses so for that you were thankful as they pretty much kept you fed. Tonight’s would be turkey and swiss with mayo on sourdough, your favorite. The lights flickered on as you hit the switch, another quirk that came with the run down apartment. The living room and entryway were now bathed in a warm and quite dim glow, or in other words if you wanted to read a book, it’d be quite difficult to see. Shivering from being drenched in rain, you set your bag on the kitchen counter adjacent to the entryway and start taking off your damp clothes, peering into your room to toss them into the hamper and slipping into the bathroom. It was a tight space, not a whole lot of room to do much but it was home.

Turning the faucet to ‘hot’, you wait for the water to get warm enough to bear, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom still bothered you no matter how long you lived there. You stood on the bath mat feeling the water with your finger until it was to your satisfaction, stepping in and feeling welcomed by the sudden warmth you’d been waiting for all day. In that moment you feel relief from the pressures of the world, the deadlines, bills, loans, essays, all of it. Everything melts away for approximately three minutes and that's when the water starts to turn cold again, returning you back to the dreadful reality you wish you could neglect.

But to your dismay, the cycle just starts all over again, keeping you hostage.

~end~

Next ->

Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x fem reader #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #barista!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fluff #the under ground

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whineandcheese24 · 2 months

Text

so i posted a couple days ago about some buddie predictions for s7 but my thoughts have changed so here's my final answer before s7 airs.

I don't think we're going to get buddie together this season. HOWEVER, i do think there will be some seeds planted. based on the way Oliver and Ryan are talking about their characters and their self-discovery it seems like there might be some sexuality/romance self-discovery, at least for Buck, maybe for Eddie. but the way they're talking also feels like they don't want fans to get over excited, if only so we don't get disappointed. Oliver saying "I know how that's going to be taken", and Ryan's comments about men just being vulnerable with friends make me think that there isn't going to be much romance between them this season. also the fact that they're moving to a new network means they get new creative freedoms, but also means that they have to reintroduce these characters, which means going back to their (the characters') roots a bit, and spending some time just establishing who these people are to a new audience. combine that with the fact that this season is only 10 episodes (3 of which are about the cruise ship), and this is an ensemble show, I don't think they're going to have two major characters completely change their ideas of themselves, and get involved together.

that being said, TM also promised buddie dynamics in each episode, starting off with Buck and Eddie trying to help Chris with dating. and of course we have the madney wedding (and suspiciously burnt/ripped/missing clothes) so romance is in the air.

So here's where I'm at tumblr: I think that this season Buck will have some sort of sexual/romantic awakening, be it a bi awakening or an Eddie awakening. I don't think we're going to get much on Eddie's side, or if we do it will be much less blatant. between the two of them, Buck is the one who always wears his heart on his sleeve and is constantly open about his life, while Eddie is more quiet and closed-off, and this tends to reflect in their writing. I think the beginning and middle of the season will reintroduce them as best friends, maybe with a little something more in the background, but not too much to be undeniable. then, the last couple episodes will possibly (hopefully) lay on a bit more subtext so that the last episode ends with 1. a kiss/confession/date bathena style where the first few months of their relationship happens between seasons, or 2. enough to imply that their romance will be at the forefront of their arcs/relationship next season

(personally, I'm hoping for the second one because even though we might have to wait longer for confirmation, we'll get more of the beginnings of their relationship)

Edit: So I wrote this before "I love you to the core" dropped and now I'm leaning a bit more towards buddie becoming canon this season, but in the sense that they are coming to terms with their feelings for each other, not necessarily getting together. I don't think there needs to be a period of dating men to try it out for either of them, but I do think that best friends to crushes to boyfriends is a bit too fast for a 10-episode season of an ensemble show

#buddie #buddie thoughts #evan buckley #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #911 abc #911 s7 #911 s7 speculation #911 season 7

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vioartemis · 1 year

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Hold your breath

(Emma Myers x fem! reader)

Summary: You are a new cast member for Wednesday’s second season, and you fall hard for one of the cast members. a/n: I don’t usually write for “real people” so it might be awful Warnings: none (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

It was your first day on the set of Wednesday, and you were more than nervous. Arriving in a cast later than everyone made it difficult to fit in easily.

You were in front of the studio's door, trying to put yourself together, when someone arrived behind you.

"Is everything okay?"

You jumped and turned around, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"Y-yeah I'm just... nervous..."

"Oh wait- you're Y/n L/n right? I'm-"

"Hunter Doohan, I know"

You smiled at him nervously.

"Of course you know, sorry" he chuckled "They told us you would play C/n, everyone wants to meet you, come with me. And don't worry, they don't bite"

He winked at you with a smile, opening the door for you. You stepped in hesitantly, followed by Hunter. He lead you to where the rest of the cast was, and introduced you to them.

They were all here, except for one person.

You started to talk with the cast, feeling more and more at ease, before you heard footsteps coming from behind.

"Sorry I'm late! I was so excited to meet the Y/n L/n I forgot to check the time..."

"Emma-" Joy tried to interrupt her

"She's so cool and pretty and talented-"

Hunter stepped to the side, revealing you standing right here with red cheeks. Immediately, she stopped rambling, embarrassed, her cheeks reddening too.

And that's how you met Emma Myers, the last cast member you had to meet.

Your first day went well, everyone was welcoming and smiling at you as if you were always with them. They invited you to a little party later in the evening, to "celebrate the arrival of our new friend" Georgie said.

As the new antagonist of the series, you had a pretty important role, and so a pretty important number of scenes to shoot. Well you were not revealed as the antagonist at first, you were undercover at Nevermore and tried to befriend Wednesday and Enid.

Because of that, you arrived a little late to the party. Half an hour in the party, half of them already seemed to be drunk.

Georgie was trying to explain something to a perplexe Joy, while Hunter was lying on the couch, head in a bucket, a little green, a worried Jenna by his side.

You backed up a few minutes ago, not wanting him to throw up on you, and were on the balcony, fresh air helping you keep your mind awake.

"Can I join you in this safe place?"

Emma arrived next to you cheeks a little red.

"Sure" you smiled "Are they always like that?"

"Almost all the time... but you'll get used to it" she chuckled "By the way... I'm sorry for earlier, if it made you uncomfortable or anything..."

"Don't worry about that" you gave her a little smile "Beside, I think you're pretty cool and pretty yourself"

<><><><> ♡ <><><><>

It had been 3 months since the shooting begun. You grew close to everyone, and to them you were already part of the family.

"Anddd cut! That's all for today, thanks girls"

It was your last scene of the day, and maybe the last scene of the day. You hadn't paid too much attention to it but everyone seemed to be already gone, except for you and Emma.

You all decided to book rooms at a hotel nearby for a special night. You were supposed to meet after work.

"You're really good at playing a villain!" she complimented you

"Are you saying I'm a good psychopath?"

"Wha- no I just-"

"I'm kidding I'm kidding" you laughed

You both went to change in your casual clothes, putting away your costumes for the night. You took the drink you got earlier in one hand, and your bag in the other, ready to go, but you tripped on a cable.

You almost fell on your face, but fortunately Emma was here to grab your arm and hold you. Unfortunately however, you drink splattered all over your shirt.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, worried

"Yeah, thank god you were here..."

You put your bag on the floor and pulled the aim of your shirt, trying to figure out if it was really stained. It was.

"Shit..."

You were supposed to meet the other at the hotel in less than ten minutes. You didn't had time to go to your room to grab another shirt, and you couldn't come looking like that.

"Is it bad?" Emma stepped in front of you "It is bad..."

"I can't come to a hotel like that..."

"Wait I think I have another shirt!"

She looked in her bag for a second and pulled a short sleeved shirt out of it. Ramen n' chill was written on it, with a ramen bowl drawing. Totally the type of shirt you figured she would wear.

"Here take it"

She handed you the shirt, smiling softly. That smile that made you melt since day one. That smile that made you fall so hard for her.

"I don't know what I would do without you..." you sighed

You took the shirt, thanking her, and took of your stained one before putting it in your bag and putting on the grey shirt.

While you were changing, you didn't notice Emma's gaze on you, nor did you notice the blush on her face as she looked away.

When you arrived at the hotel, everyone welcomed you, and drinks were soon put in your hands. Jenna and Hunter shared a smirk seeing you were wearing Emma's shirt. You were their ship number one.

Everyone started talking, bout you couldn't say about what. You were drowning in Emma's perfume - in a good way. Her shirt smelled like her, like when she hugged you.

"... Y/n?"

You looked up, hearing your name.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention"

"We noticed that, what were you thinking about?" Joy asked with an innocent smile

"Maybe a certain someone you would really like..." Hunter continued

"I was thinking about throwing this glass of water at your face if you don't shush right now" you said, cheeks burning

"Oh so you like someone??" Georgie asked "Who??"

All of a sudden everyone got very interested in what was said, especially Emma, sipping her drink quietly.

"Maybe..."

That was all you were ready to say, not wanting to give more detail with Emma right here. She would understand who you like quickly if you were to say anything else.

You avoided all questions for the next fifteen minutes, until Georgie came back. When did he left? You had no idea.

"Guysss! There's a billard over there! Please someone play with me I've always wanted to!"

That caught everyone's attention. They all got up and followed Georgie, letting you breathe a little.

You were about to go with them when Emma grabbed your arm.

"Want to go to the pool with me? They're very loud when they play"

You glanced over to the rest of the group, before nodding with a smile.

"Let's go before they see us"

She took your hand and started running, dragging you with her.

You were both out of breath when you arrived at the pool, laughing like teenagers. You both took your shoes and socks off.

"Do you think the water is hot?" Emma asked after a minute.

"I don't know you" got closer to the pool "I'm going to check"

You bent down to touch the water, when you felt Emma's hands on your back.

"Hold your breath" she whispered right next to your ear before pushing you

The water was rather cold. It soaked your clothes and your hair. When you came back to the surface, you rubbed your eyes-

"Hey! Not cool!" you pouted

"Sorry, I couldn't help it" she smile "here, I'll help you out"

She held her hand for you to grab. You took her hand, and paused.

"Hold your breath" you said, winked at her, and pulled her down into the water.

"Guess I deserved that" she said

She looked at you and at the water, a playfull smile on her face.

"Don’t even-"

You got cut off by water splashing on your face.

"You want to play that game? Ok let’s play"

You spent the next 30 minutes splashing water at each other.

"Ok ok I surrender!" you finally said, lifting your hands up

She stopped with a victorious smile and ran a hand through her hair so she could see properly. The light of the moon and the pool reflected in her eyes . They seemed more blue like that. You felt like you could drown in them.

She was pretty everyday, with or without makeup, with every style of clothes. You never saw her with wet hair before. She was gorgeous.

You knew you were staring for too long, but you just couldn't look away. When she got a little closer, you noticed she was staring too. Her eyes flickered from your own to your lips.

"Y/n..."

"Hm...?"

"I really want to kiss you"

You got closer to her, never breaking eye contact.

"I really want to kiss you too"

She closed the gap between you, soft lips pressed against yours in a soft kiss. She cupped your cheeks with one hand and placed the other on your waist as you locked your arms around her neck.

She was a good kisser. The best kiss you ever had.

When you pulled away, her lips were all red. They curled up into a smile. She took you hands and led you to a stack of towel. She took one and started to dry your hair gently.

You grabbed another towel and threw it around her so she wouldn't get cold. Unfortunately the other towel were small ones, so she pulled you closer to her, wet bodies pressing against each other.

"Looks like we have to share the big towel" she said

You kissed her again. She smiled against your lips, kissing back. Soon, the kiss turned into a more feverish one.

Hot breaths were shared after you pulled away, before you pressed your nose into her neck. She hugged you thight.

"I love you Emma" you whispered

"I love you too Y/n"

×º°”˜`”°º×•°¯`•• ♡ ••´¯°•×º°”˜`”°º×

This isn't something I usually write for a lot of reasons, but there's literally no fics with her!! So I had to created the content I'm desperately looking for... If you find some Emma fics please tell me I'm interested :))

#emma myers #emma myers x reader #emma myers x fem reader #wednesday netflix #wednesday

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fionajames · 2 months

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home - the bad batch

A/N: HEY GUYS, IM SCARED FOR THE NEW SEASON. So, I figured, depending on how these three episodes go, we might need some fluff, so here it is <3. The lyrics are from Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I recommend listening to it as you read! Send requests please! ENJOY!

Oh, home, let me come home

Hunter sighed as he watched Omega swing from side to side in the air, clinging to the hoop of the monkey bar. He wasn’t frustrated with Omega playing - in fact it was a very nice thing to see - in fact he wasn’t frustrated at all.

He was just watching as Wrecker teased her, causing her to giggle vigorously. Hunter could hear something about the floor being lava, and Wrecker commentating as she played.

Echo laughed as Omega swung around quickly and lunged at him, clinging to him as she squealed from Wrecker’s insistent teasing. “Wrecker!” She cried out, squirming away from his grasp and racing to hide behind Hunter. He bit his tongue in an attempt to contain the huge grin threatening to grow.

Hunter glanced up at the sky, squinting at the setting suns. The orange glow basked the town beautifully, the forest the playground was situated in alit with the gleam. The corner of his mouth lifted ever-so-slightly. “Time to head home,” he told the others, grasping Omega and hoisting her up onto his shoulders.

Home is whenever I’m with you

All of the Clones were extremely touch-starved, but most then preferred no affection. Omega, however, was the most affectionate little thing Hunter had ever seen.

As the four began walking home through the streets, Omega ranted about the new friend she’d made at the park - before Wrecker had arrived and interrupted her shenanigans. The new friend was a Clone cadet, the same age as Omega.

Of course, with the antidote the Kaminoans had injected in all of them, the cadet’s age was now one of a normal human’s. Just like Omega.

The streets of Nay Mets were filled with the sunset’s glow and streetlights, familiar and unfamiliar faces rushing through the town. Occasionally the batch saw someone they recognised and waved hello, but most of the time was spent trekking back to the house.

“Can Hera sleep over tomorrow?” Omega chirped, bending over so Hunter could see her face. She gave him her best puppy eyes, wide-eyed, lovable and unable to ignore. “Please?”

“Of course,” Hunter replied, smiling when Omega cheered loudly.

Oh, home, let me come home

It didn’t take them long to reach their house, slipping inside the unlocked door and calling for their two brothers. Tech was stood in the kitchen cooking something, humming softly. The end of the war had helped ease his humourless state, but kept all of his good features.

Crosshair was leaning against the countertop, toothpick in between his lips as he thought. Omega barrelled him over with a hug - as usual - before being a little more careful with Tech, who was spooning hot soup into bowls.

Hunter counted the bowls within a split-second, raising a brow at his brother and smirking. “Six?” He asked, and Tech smiled sheepishly. “Phee?” A nod was all the confirmation he needed.

The batch had met Phee only a few months ago, when she’d come knocking on their door in the early hours of the morning, asking for a flashlight when hers had run out. The whole family could see the instant connection between Phee and Tech, like a rope binding two bridges, destinies intertwined.

Home is whenever I’m with you

Phee arrived late - as usual - but with a big grin, stories and hugs. Omega followed her around with endless questions about her latest quest, asking about the other member to their trio - Ahsoka. Ahsoka came by occasionally, mostly for Omega and Echo. She’d recently joined Phee on her wild travels.

The family ate their soup with huge grins all around, even from Crosshair - who was masking his by remaining bent over his bowl. They washed up before finding a movie to watch, a tradition they’d created recently.

Once the movie was over, Omega insisted they head into town for a walk. The batch had quickly discovered Omega loved walks, figuring it was because she’d been so confined most of her life.

And so, they walked through the town - all six of them - for an hour, taking in the beauty of Nay Mets. Hunter watched fondly as Tech held Omega up so she could examine one of the streetlights.

He’d finally done it.

Here his family was.

Safe, and happy.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please send requests!!!

(taglist: @skellymom, @techs-goggles9902)

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zalmoxis-the-great · 3 months

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Love in full bloom ! - Short story - Orizyn

Trazyn was lying there motionless for the third month in a row. Attention is still fully focused on observing the future La'rua, the forming Tau Fire Warriors team, training under the vigilant, eye of an experienced Shas'Ui.

‘Orikan, I swear on the Galleries, if you get spotted and ruin this for me, I will put you in a tesseract labyrinth next to my Death Guards' attacks strategies displays’, he received from the unmoving overlord.

Orikan flicked his tail, curiosity replacing the anger at the rude, and frankly, disgusting remark.

His divinations found the archivist on a planet next to a battlefield Imotekh was heading to. The astromancer decided to bail on the mandatory activity the Stormlord was dragging him to, by summoning his right to the ancient feud, and rushing off course, before his phaeron decided to use his hekatic power to revoke it.

He found the overlord, covered with field emitters, witnessing what looked like every step of future Fire warrior's training.

Rather than going back to join his dynasty’s fight, a pointless endeavor, We would win this engagement, regardless of my presence. He decided to observe the observer before he deemed that enough time had passed for him to return to his proper studies, without invoking Imotekh’s wrath.

‘They need another full Tau'cyr of training before the commander will no longer call them Shas’Saal, but Shas’La.’ Trazyn explained after another month. ‘I intend to capture the engramatic recording of the whole process. It’s beautiful isn’t it, them growing into their destiny?’.

Orikan moved his focus from the Tau to Trazyn.

The tropical weather on this planet was in its rainy season, with violent winds blowing water droplets everywhere. The emitters did little to protect Trazyn from the elements, and being completely motionless meant he endured the impromptu showers.

What was spectacular was the tiny dust or earth particles carried by the droplets, that, drop by drop, deposited the debris and dead plant matter into every crevice and nook on the archivist’s carapace.

Normally, mud or dirt would be cleaned by scarabs, but Trazyn was in an undercover mission, and dared not bring anything to be read by a passing scan. He looked like a muddy statue.

After another four months of sitting still, small orchid seeds seem to have found their way to those little dirt patches, and the warm, and humid weather allowed the epiphyte plant to grow there.

First, the little white air roots appeared, hugging the living metal, like silver jewelry, and after that a stem appeared.

For the last 3 days all the plants on Trazyn were in full bloom.

Some of them, blossoming with an insane amount of tiny white flowers, that hung heavy from Trazyn’s left arm, covering it like an exotic pelt.

On his torso, the orchids decided to grow horizontally, with beautiful blue flowers, deeper than the archivist's turquoise but similar enough that Orikan could imagine they grew from his necrodermis.

His cape and legs, as the archivist was kneeling to stay low enough to observe, were covered by plants with thick massive leaves, that covered him and gave the impression that Trazyn was sprouting from the earth itself. At first, a few rare red flowers popped up sporadically on his legs and rear, but the closer they were in proximity to the sun, they more they started multiplying. The top of Trazyn's hood looked like it was on fire with these bright red blossoms.

Orikan looked at his deathmask, endlessly fascinated by the yellow flowers, that managed to sneak into his hollowed cheeks and mouth, blooming upwards on their stems so that it looked like Trazyn was wearing a heavy crown made of gold, a noble regal scholar, and an academic so in love with his studies that he became part of it.

‘I agree’, he replied, looking at his colleague.

#last one on tumblr #finally a v-day one !#Orikan taking 4 months to answer a rhetoric question #necrons #orikan the diviner #trazyn the infinite #warhammer 40k #short story

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rhineposting · 3 months

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( inspired by an idea from a genshin discord server )

The month was the 8th, slowly eclipsing in on the 9th. Like each year, travelers and merchants alike from all over traveled far and wide through different roads, all ultimately leading towards one destination beneath the surface - the underground Kingdom of Khaenri’ah, Starry House of Many Doors, and it’s annual Stjern-Falle Festival.

Many believed at least once that the celebration honored the departure of Summer and arrival of Autumn, as the name almost seemed to imply - alas, with the nation being removed from Gods’ gaze, they knew not of gentle winds of Spring, golden middays of Summer, raging storms of Autumn and certainly not of the cold fangs of Winter. Having conquered nature, Khaenri’ah had essentially risen above the need for seasons and therefore had no need to honor them. What else could the godless people celebrate them? That which is above the seasons as well, of course - the stars.

Ages ago, scholars had found a way of creating environments with sights and conditions taken from anywhere else in the world, calling them simply Domains - as such, in it’s earliest years, the first Sages of Khaenri’ah cast upon their kingdom an image of a starry sky far away, beyond divinity itself ; and each year from that foreign sky a rain of stars would come falling down, it’s dews harvested by the scientists and mages alike, providing prosperity to the kingdom for years to come.

However, as is with human nature, both the outsiders from above and the residents from below saw that time as a most opportune occasion for profit and trade ; and so, the Stjern-Falle Festival was open to all who could afford to make the journey.

Or to those who were removed from the circle of commerce entirely, thought a bard as he climbed out of a barrel, his feather-light footsteps quiet as he ran, a bag in one hand and a lyre in the other, burdened only with but a few Mora.

(One that he personally picked off of his dear old friend earlier when he lied unconscious and unaware in his…The bard would have liked to be so kind as to call it a bed, but really - it was just a hoarding pile of expensive quilts, pillows and trinkets.)

Among his few burdens, one would not be able to find a solid plan of his future endeavors. Should one peek into his mind and search for any plan, at best they would find a small list written in colored wax, reading as such:

1. Wine from Khemia-grown grapes

2. Traditional Khaenri’ahn Music

3. Make new friends

4. Watch the star rain

5. ?????

6. Go home and take a nap

The best plan is the lack of it thereof, such was the bard’s philosophy, and it yet had to fail him. Each corner of the world had a story to tell, and if he wanted to hear them all, what good would it do to arbitrarily set directions by himself? Besides, with fate being world’s best guide, putting in the time to make a schedule of any kind would have been too bothersome ; and above all, the bard was a man of leisures.

Once far away enough from the cargo of merchants and the grand, iron elevators the size of stages, he found himself sitting upon a small wall, marveling. At what? Simply put, everything before and below him.

By then the city, called lovingly by poets a Puddle of Many Rains, had been flooded with market stalls and stages alike ; it’s own lights bright seemingly mirroring the artificial stars above, reflecting them much like a true puddle would have. Though windless, the air was thick with scents so numerous and varied, so much that they could all be referred to only with a collective name : scent of a festival. Truly, the bard found it incredible how little the scent varied across the continent, be it Lantern Rite in Liyue or Day of Sabzeruz in Sumeru - at their core, they were all the same.

Overjoyed and energized, the bard chuckled under his breath and proceeded to close his eyes, letting his legs carry him to wherever they deemed fitting.

***

Not long into his blind trek, his ears made him come to a halt, something catching their attention. Thus did the bard stop right in the middle of the river of people passing by and listened :

A simple tune, coming from an instrument likely between a violin and an accordion, should his knowledge of instruments be up to date. Though it’s tones were deep, he could not help but pay mind to how swiftly the melody could go from somber to joyful in seconds. Intrigued, he squeezed past the rushing stream of the crowds. To his joy, soon after he had been faced with a young man, a strange violin-like instrument over his shoulder, one hand pressing keys and the other shifting a bow back and forth, producing music unlike anything he had heard in most recent years.

So he stood there, a one man audience to the youth, his green eyes bright with awe - contrasting greatly with the young man’s focused face as he continued playing for what felt like eternity and a fleeting moment both. All spheres of life had rules unspoken, therefore once the youth finished playing he bowed, while the bard clapped, a wide smile almost cutting through his face.

“Why, that was delightful!” the bard exclaimed, his palms by then aching from his applause, “Tell me o fellow poet, what is the name of this lovely instrument?”

“Nyckelharpa, sire!” the young man replied, “More commonly called the bowed violin, it’s our national instrument! And would I be right to assume you hail from the City of Winds?”

“Verily, my friend! Quite the perceptive eye you got there!” the bard praised, clapping once more, “Then again, my lyre does quite betray my origins, doesn’t it?’

“Nay, it’s actually your attire. Few people here need capes, and rarely in such vibrant colors as yours! If I had to name people I know of that wear capes, not only would their number fit on my single hand, they’re all from the Royal Court! Black Serpent Knights, the Mages, Court Alchemists and of course, the King and his family!”

That too the bard noticed - rarely did the clothes of the locals come in shades other than black, white, gray, blue or purple. Living beneath the surface did have it’s negatives, lack of access to a variety of dyes must have been among them. Still, from what he saw thus far, the people of Khaenri’ah made up for it with jewelry and adornments of brass and iron alike, ranging from simple buttons to elaborate earrings - worthy of landing in his dearest friend’s trash pile of a nest.

“If you’re so kind, could you tell me where may I learn more about your music?” asked the bard, “As it happens , I seek mastery over every instrument I can find - and it currently stands at the humble number of fifty seven!”

To that, the oblivious young man couldn’t help but burst out laughing, nearly folding both himself and his beloved instrument over. To that the bard took no offense, few ever believed him. Then again, few was the number of people who were capable of having enough years to master even three instruments, let alone fifty seven. By the time the young man managed to regain his breath, his cheeks had turned as red and round as an apple freshly picked off a tree, teeth bared in a wide smile.

“In that case, why don’t I take you to my school, master?” the man jokingly proposed, “I’d like to be there to see your list expand to fifty eight- or better yet, make it sixty! It’s a perfect time for such a milestone, is it not?”

“It is, friend,” the bard nodded. “It is.”

That year had marked Barbatos’ first ever Stjern-Falle Festival, as well as the year he mastered sixty five instruments total. From then on, the journey to Khaenri’ah’s many doors had become a voyage he would eagerly look forward to.

***

The wheel of time had turned a hundred times more, and so did the wheels of a cart as it came to a halt as soon as it got out from the since then upgraded cargo elevators. In spite of the countless inspections from merchants and guards both, once again it had an additional passenger - who had slipped from underneath the cart itself, filthy and dry with dust sticking into every crevice of his face. Resisting the urge to cough and spit, the passenger made a run for the shadows of various containers, where only then he’d wipe furiously at his twisted in discomfort face. Such a shame that no more were caravans as accommodating to stowaways as they used to be, sometimes even being as cruel as to employ usage of cats and dogs alike to avoid extra company.

“Phef phef phef,” the bard spat and wiped into his sleeves, a few tears running down his gray from dust face, “Oh dear, how am I ever going to wash this taste off?”

The question was purely rhetorical : as always, the answer to every issue under the sun would remain to be wine and music alike. That year, it was no different.

***

“May I ask for a slice of brie with that, good sir?”

Much time had passed, and by then the bard managed to clean both his robes and body from road dust - appearing as presentable and pleasant to the eye as ever, the image of a perfect customer that he was not. Not that the poor waiter would have known, as he kept bringing him more wine and snacks, blissfully unaware that upon being presented with the check, the bard would have been out through the chimney quicker than one could call for guards. Even then, no prison in Teyvat and below would have been able to hold him, as far as he knew.

“Will do!” the waiter bowed, and departed like a leaf in the wind, leaving the bard to his own devices.

Once more he had forgotten to bring a book to fill the time in between glasses and snacks and unfortunately enough, the establishment did not have performers of any kind, nor even books for a quick lend - effectively leaving him with plenty of time in his hands and nothing to invest it into. A shame, truly - had it not been for one ace up his sleeve for trying times such as these.

(And up more places, such as various orifices - at least according to his friend, whose constant stone face would eventually develop cracks upon losing a card game for the eight time in a row. A small breeze can carve a mountain, as they say.)

The ace being one of his favorite past times - to simply put, people watching. One would think that a man his age and wisdom would one day grow weary of the sight of humans of any kind - and they couldn’t be more wrong, fortunately. For the same reason why children insisted on hearing the same story for bedtime night after night, the bard would seek out the company of man, as mundane as their lives tended to be. Simple, infallible logic, he thought.

Surely enough, not long after the restaurant gained a new customer - a young girl, already tall for her age, donning robes of a scholar yet presenting herself with the confidence of a senior professor. Proud, with her chin lifted high, she approached the man behind the counter - the ringing sound of Mora making itself known across the establishment.

“I’d like your meal of the day. Sunshine Sprat. Take-out,” she requested. “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“Of course, we’ll serve it to you in just a minute!”

So they did - before the bard knew it, the girl had been presented with the meal, wrapped up and secured like a gift, fragrant steam escaping from the cracks and folds here and there. Like a true princess, the girl took the package in her hands - and proceeded to run out the door as if her life depended on it. Soon enough, the server made the reason why known across the restaurant.

“You swindling little brat!!” The bard heard the man roar to the door, “Someone go catch her!”

When the bard looked closer, he saw that the Mora were gone - replaced only by a pile of rocks.

That evening, the restaurant earned two new customers on their blacklist.

***

It didn’t take the bard very long to find the girl - a few twists and turns, one flight across a few rooftops, two dives into the trash - and there she was, not even five minutes later ; not because she was slow, but simply because the bard was not someone anyone or anything could escape from, no matter how far they would travel.

He observed from afar, a hand under his chin, deeply entertained. The girl, likely no older than fourteen, carved into the dish much like a princess would have, while simultaneously reading a book that sat over her crossed lap as she sat on the ground behind a building. Her expression remained one of complete lack of bother or guilt of any kind, and it was so convincing that one would almost believe her, should she claim she was not to blame. By then, the bard’s amusement had almost shifted to entrancement, and before either of them knew it, he sat by her side after seemingly appearing from nowhere.

“Interesting trick back there, young lady!” he exclaimed, wearing an award winning smile, bright enough to blind, “Never seen anyone do something like that before, and I’ve been around for a while! Say, are you willing to share your secrets with a traveler from afar?”

In return, the girl graced him with a side-eyeing glare, unbothered by his swift and soundless fall from the sky - as if she was indeed a princess, looking down upon a mere peasant that managed to sneak past her bodyguards. From what the bard knew about the citizens of Khaenri’ah, chances were, a princess she might’ve been.

Her turquoise eyes were as bright as the stars themselves, and fittingly enough, her pupils resembled them as well - sharp and four pointed, almost shrunken into four thin lines as she looked him up and down. As far as he heard, those were exclusive to nobility of Khaenri'ah, a sign of their pure blood.

“Khemia,” she replied, before turning back to her book, “Basics of transmutation. Now can you go away, I’m trying to eat and you stink.”

“Oh, are you implying I don’t take proper hygiene measures when abroad? I’m hurt, deeply so!”

The girl raised one dark blonde eyebrow, “Wounded, even?”

“Hurt, young lady!”

“If you call me young lady again, you will be picking out worms from your nostrils for the rest of your life.”

“Then what should I call you instead? If you’d like, I’ll introduce myself first!” Before the girl could make it known how much she wouldn’t have liked to know his name, he offered his hand for shaking, “Venti! Venti the Bard!”

Not only did the girl not shake his hand, she looked at it as if it had been ridden with sepsis. Somehow, her already annoyed expression grew even more unimpressed.

“Rhinedottir. Not to be mistaken for my two sisters Rendottir and Rheindottir. Now can you put that away,” the girl ordered, as calmly as one could. “What do you want.”

“Well, truth be told, even though I’ve been here many times in the past for the Stjern-Falle Festival, I never quite managed to learn about Khemia from it’s source,” Venti explained upon putting his hand away, only to gesture away as he spoke, “And you seem like you know quite a lot about it, with how you’re able to use it so casually!”

For a while, the girl said nothing and merely observed the bard, expectantly - likely waiting for him to leave. Unfortunately for her, no such thing had occurred ; Venti did not undo his presence and continued sitting there, waiting for his answer as well. Had it been any other day, perhaps the girl would have entertained the idea of an out-waiting contest with her coming out as the victor. Alas, such couldn’t be, for if she continued waiting her meal would have gone cold.

“…Alright, fine,” the girl eventually relented, rolling her turquoise eyes to the sky and back, “…How do you explain white chalk in black soil, or the earth’s dense crust amidst the emptiness of space? While alchemy transmutates the inanimate, Khemia creates life, using other forms of life as a base. That’s how we can grow crops here underground. Otherwise we’d starve.”

Venti nodded, listening as attentively as one could, uttering not one word of his own.

“…But I think we can do even more with Khemia,” Rhinedottir suddenly added, idly shifting through the pages of her book. “I think that if I used the right formulas, I could create sentient life from scratch.”

“And why would you want to do that?” asked Barbatos. “Creating life is a pretty big deal. Not even gods are allowed to do that.”

The girl did not listen.

All she did was glare at him, if not at the whole world itself. Though her face was young, her gaze was not one of a small child. Sharp and heavy, it carried a weight for which the bard could not settle on a name at that time ; was it ambition or arrogance? Countless times he had seen both, and yet, neither had fit the mark.

“I want to be great,” she stated. “So I’m gonna be the greatest alchemist of all time.”

Venti just laughed under his nose and Barbatos nodded, her words engraved in his memory.

“Hope I will be there to see it for myself.”

He did, thirty Stjern-Falle Festivals later.

So did everyone else.

#rhine writing #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact #genshin #genshin venti #rhinedottir #khaenri'ah

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hookingminor · 2 years

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isn’t it strange? - nico hischier

a/n: this took so long to finish and once again not sure if I even like it but I will perhaps make a bonus epilogue to post later if I get inspired <3 if some things seem vague (re: family dynamics and details like siblings and parents) it’s because I wanted to make it as ambiguous and universal as possible, though this does center around a relatively close-knit family on the reader's side

word count: 12.7k (good god y’all)

warnings (18+): smut (unprotected), minor alcohol mentions, wedding antics, close family dynamics

teaser / part one

Things were awkward to say the least when you arrived at the large house your family had rented for the week.

It was awkward when Nico picked you up to take you to the airport, your favorite coffee and breakfast sandwich in hand when he greeted you at the door. As always, he turned up earlier than expected, leaving you to invite him in while you scrambled to collect the rest of your things.

The drive had eased some of the tension since you had nearly half an hour to chat on the ride over. A portion of the time was spent catching up on the last month though you both kept details vague, but most of the conversation centered on your family and the itinerary for the week ahead of you since you wanted Nico to be prepared.

Nico had met your immediate family many times before over the course of your relationship since he chose to spend holidays during the season with you and your family because he couldn’t make trips back to Switzerland with hockey going on all the time, but this was the first time he would be meeting your whole family: all the nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins, everyone extended. It was a week sure to be filled with intrusive questions about your relationship and future together.

By the time you had your bags checked, Nico surprised you with upgraded first class seats from the coach ones you had purchased all those months ago.

“I asked you on this trip as a favor,” you quipped when he flashed the tickets before you with an amused smile that you did not return. “You shouldn’t be spending any money on this. Or me.”

“Who said this was for you?” He smirked. “I’m used to a life of luxury on private team planes. I don’t want to spend the next four hours with a kid kicking the back of my seat and you hogging the armrest.”

The tone of his voice let you know he was joking, but you half believed the excuse.

“Plus, you’re going to have to deal with your family for the next five days. I think you deserve to have at least a few hours of comfort before all this goes down,” he added after a moment.

“You’re too kind for your own good, Nico, you know that?” You replied with an agitated huff, taking the ticket with your name from his hands. Who were you to refuse a first class ticket you knew was nonrefundable?

“You did say that was one of my most lovable qualities.”

“And sometimes most infuriating,” you grumbled. “I’m paying you back for this later.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” Both of you knew full well Nico would never accept a repayment.

The flight got delayed an hour due to air traffic, and you hated to admit you were extra thankful for the first class seats as you sat and waited for the runways to clear when suddenly Nico grabbed your right headphone to pop it into his own ear.

“What are you listening to?” He asked when the podcast started back up.

You waited a few moments and allowed the audio to play where the hosts where in the middle of describing a gruesome murder. “True crime,” you stated when they finished their story.

Nico never had the stomach for all the horror and gore you were fascinated with, though he tried valiantly to get into the same interests as you. More times than not it led to terrifying nightmares or unwanted paranoia or tenuous nausea.

“I always hated these,” Nico said, but he made no move to remove the headphone while the story continued on.

“That’s because you scare easily and get nightmares,” you chuckled. After the third time Nico woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night after watching a horror movie with you, you declared him unfit to watch any more (something Nico was eternally grateful for.) He would do anything for you, and if that meant sitting through awful movies and documentaries that scarred him, he would do it, but he was glad he didn’t have to.

“Nightmares were never so bad when I woke up next to you.” Nico let his eyes fall shut after the plane settled into a cruising altitude.

“Speak for yourself.” The corner of your mouth tugged into a smile. “You were always sweaty and clung to me like a koala.”

Nico’s own lips quirked up at the mention of his clingy bedroom tendencies but said nothing more, and within a few short minutes he was fast asleep, which was another quality you envied him for: his ability to pass out whenever and wherever.

You were grateful it was well into the evening by the time you made it to the rental home. The hour-long taxi ride gave you some time to unwind from the plane ride and figure out some last minute logistics before launching yourselves into a busy week. And it helped that you weren’t bombarded at the dinner you expected to be at but sadly had to miss.

Your parents greeted you at the front door, tackling you both in hugs before your father went to handle the luggage while your mother squished Nico’s cheeks and made comments about how he needed to eat more.

Nico wooed her with that dazzling smile of his that had her heart melting every time, complimenting her on her new hairstyle and giving her a big hug. Your dad clapped him on the shoulder in one of those fatherly squeezes, commending him on the past Devils season. Before you brought Nico home, your father never dared to follow New Jersey Devils hockey like any respected person would, but Nico easily converted not only your dad, but your entire family into Devils fans.

They traded some commentary on the playoffs currently going on as you entered the home before your mom showed you to the room you’d be staying in and updated you with the arrival times of your siblings the next day.

The conversation didn’t last long considering it was almost ten in the evening and they wanted to give you time to settle in. Plus, it was past their bedtimes as middle-aged adults and they were more interested in getting some sleep themselves than catching up with you right now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with being here?” You asked after your parents left, lounging on the bed while you waited for Nico to finish up in the bathroom.

“Of course I am,” he replied, flicking off the light switch before slipping under the covers. “I like your family. They always make me feel welcome.”

“That’s because everyone’s in love with you,” you chuckled. “You’re, like, every parent’s wet dream.”

Nico laughed, having heard you say some iteration of that same phrase multiple times over the years you dated. It was insane how much your parents loved Nico. Every time you brought him home, he stole the show. Your little cousins flocked to him like moths to a flame, and all the guys loved being able to discuss sports with a professional athlete even if your family wasn’t a hockey one. He had a stomach the size of an elephant and could eat his weight in food that your aunties made, and he was an even better complimenter and flirt. Your older brother adored him and your younger sister fawned over him. Hell, even the grocer at the local supermarket asked you periodically how Nico was doing when you came home to visit.

There wasn’t a single person he couldn’t win over. Both in your family and in life. He was just that perfect.

“Besides, having your mom’s cooking at least once this weekend will be worth all of this,” he added after a moment.

“You say that when you’re so clearly the favorite here.” You slid under the covers and pulled them up to your chest.

“What can I say? Moms love me.”

Everyone loves you, you thought.

“Goodnight, Nico,” was what you said instead, rolling onto your side and away from Nico. You hoped that if you didn’t have to look at him, your mind could forget that he was right next to you, but it was a fruitless attempt. Not when his body was denting the mattress just a few inches away and you could practically feel his heat radiating across the distance.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied while settling himself deeper into the sheets.

The situation gave you flashbacks of the end of your relationship when you were still sharing a bed but acted like you were strangers. A pit settled in your stomach at the memories of Nico coming home late and crawling into bed without so much as a goodnight kiss and where you pretended to be asleep so you didn’t have to ask him about his day.

You pushed the thoughts aside and burrowed yourself deeper into the bed. If anything, maybe you could come out of this weekend as friends. You could only hope for the best.

“What’s for breakfast?” You asked, entering the kitchen where your mom and dad were already bustling around cooking.

Nico followed in behind you while you peered over your mom’s shoulder at the stove where she was flipping chocolate chip pancakes. Your lips turned down in a frown, but you didn’t say anything.

Turning around, you spotted freshly cut strawberries in a bowl on the counter, and another glance in a different direction showed turkey bacon slices resting on a plate. All of the dishes were Nico’s favorites.

“Is there anything for me here?” You scoffed teasingly when you saw your dad poaching eggs in a pot just how Nico liked.

“You’re not the guest here,” your mother replied with an eye roll. “We have to be good hosts.”

“Right. It’s not like Nico’s stayed with us multiple times and knows what to expect.”

“Oh hush, you know you’ll eat it anyway,” your mom said.

“Would’ve preferred waffles,” you mutter under your breath, which earned you a light hit with the nearby dish towel.

“This is all wonderful. Thank you so much. You guys didn’t have to go to all this work,” Nico stepped behind you, pulling you back into his body before you started arguing with your mom.

“And that’s why he’s my favorite,” your mom gushed with an affectionate pat to Nico’s cheek. “Help yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at your mom’s blatant favoritism, but Nico only smiled down at you and wiggled his eyebrows in amusement. He knew your parents loved him, arguably more than they loved you, and he was by far the favorite significant other between you and your siblings.

Your mom smacked your hand when you tried to plate your food first, reprimanding you to let Nico go first, who stood grinning and on the verge of laughter at your put-out face as you waited for him to finish.

“Now you’re just being an ass,” you said, snatching some bacon from Nico’s plate because he thought it would be funny to take them all.

“Careful,” Nico whispered as he leaned in closer, “or I’ll tell your mom you’re being mean to me.”

It was too early in the morning for your stomach to be filled with butterflies at Nico’s close proximity, so you teasingly shoved him to the side to put some space between your bodies. You were only given a short reprieve before Nico joined you at the table and pressed his thighs flush against yours underneath the table.

You tried not to think about his thigh against yours or the jokes and stories he shared with your father or the way he helped himself to all the extra leftovers your mom insisted on giving him because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And you especially tried not to think about how your heart rate sped up when Nico reached up to wipe a smudge of jam at the corner of your mouth.

Yeah, it was going to be a long day and an even longer week.

When you first agreed on Nico accompanying you back home, you both decided that the less time you spent lying to your family, the better. It was hard to avoid spending any time with them due to the fact that it was a family wedding, so when the opportunity came up to run some last minute wedding errands, you jumped to volunteer yours and Nico’s time.

While you loved your family, the day had been full of a lot of interacting, and tomorrow would be even more taxing when the rest of your extended family arrived. And then your brother and sister stopped by to catch up with everyone, and you were faced with another onslaught of questions about when you and Nico were finally going to settle down.

“If you’re waiting for permission, you know you already have it,” your brother had joked, clapping Nico on the shoulder with a laugh.

It didn’t help that Nico was absolutely incredible with your brother’s kids, tossing them in the air and letting them hang from his back like he was a human jungle gym. His ever-lasting energy devoted to playing with your niece and nephews only had your sister-in-law nudging you with her elbow and commenting on just how good Nico was with kids.

“He’ll be a great dad in a few years, huh?” She smirked. Laura loved Nico because she thought he was good for you and also because every time you brought him around, she always got a few hours of peace while he entertained them. “You don’t even know how excited they were in the car that they got to hang out with Uncle Nico today.”

You laughed at her comment though it lacked genuine feeling. You weren’t sure you even wanted kids in the future, but the remarks about how everyone loved Nico only stung more when you knew you didn’t have him anymore and that he wasn’t yours.

You practically had to drag him out of the house after a hectic lunch when your father asked if anyone wanted to check in on the vendors in town to make sure everything was still in order. Your family was great at asking too many questions and insinuating that they were waiting for Nico and you to get engaged yourselves, and the atmosphere was starting to become stifling.

“You okay?” Nico asked the second you stepped out the front door to take a deep breath.

A hand raised to cup your cheek before you could reply, and Nico met your eyes with a worried look.

“Yeah, sorry,” you sighed. “I just didn’t think I’d feel this bad about lying to everyone. I’m sorry you have to deal with all their dumb comments.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” Nico engulfed your face with both hands now and scanned your eyes for reassurance. “Why don’t we take our time in town? We can say something went wrong so we needed extra time to handle it and we can get dinner or something after so you can have some time to breathe.”

Nico honestly didn’t mind the inquisition from your family. Over the years, he’d become used to their fun-loving and sometimes invasive nature, but he knew they meant it all with love. They cared about both of you deeply, and it was endearing to hear that they still did. It warmed his heart and filled his body with such an intense longing that, for brief moments, Nico would forget you were actually broken up.

Those moments were usually when he caught you laughing with your sister at something and you’d glance over at him for a split second before turning away. Or when your niece would quietly whisper to him to ask if he could braid her hair, to which Laura would reprimand her for bothering Nico but he gladly entertained her anyway. Or when your mother took him to the side to ask about when they’d be flying back for Thanksgiving, and Nico’s initial reaction was to give her an answer instead of deflecting.

He especially felt it now with his hands warming your face as he watched your brows draw together in anxiousness, and Nico knew he needed to get you away from the house as quickly as possible.

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that please.” Your shoulders release some tension on your next breath to calm yourself down.

The drive into town settled your nerves the further you got from the home, and you were feeling more at ease when you rolled up to the flower shop your cousin enlisted for the wedding.

The florist was a lovely elderly woman who gushed over Nico immediately.

“The girls in your family have some real luck with gorgeous men, huh?” She blushed when Nico shook her hand, instantly feeling the charm of a handsome young man.

She ushered you to the back where she had started assembling the table pieces, blue iris and white hyacinth bundles scattered across her workspace. “My daughter will be in tomorrow to help me finish the rest, and we will be there early Saturday morning to drop them off and help set up if you need it.”

“They’re gorgeous,” you complimented, taking one complete bundle in your hands to inspect it. “Really, they’re incredible.”

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart,” the woman smiled, evidently proud of her own work.

She showed you around the rest of her shop after you were sufficiently confident that the flowers were taken care of, delving into the history of the store that she opened thirty years ago with her husband.

A phone call from the dress store had you excusing yourself and stepping outside while Nico finished up inside, and you thanked the lady again for her help.

Nico joined you on the sidewalk after a few minutes, the bell above the door alerting you of his presence as he bid farewell to the florist with a bright smile. A singular red tulip stem was between his fingers, and he held it out for you to take like it was a precious present.

“Ruth thought red seemed like your color,” Nico said. “I agreed.”

“Ruth knows me well.” You took the flower from Nico and brought it to your nose to sniff it.

Nico cleared his throat. “So what’s next on the list?”

“The tailor said the dress would be another hour before we can pick it up, so we should probably check on the cake and catering.”

You ran all over town with Nico, popping from shop to shop and checking on all the orders on your list.

The caterer ran through the list with you three times when you arrived, double and triple checking the vegetarian and special diet options and numbers while simultaneously having you try a few samplers to make sure everything was how it should be: a task that Nico was all too willing to participate in.

The cake decorator had barely begun baking the cake by the time you got there, so there wasn’t much to check in with, though she also had no concerns at the time and even sent you home with a complimentary slice for making the trip out there.

“Last thing on the list is picking up the dress. Emily said she had her final fitting earlier this week, so it should all be good to go.”

It was still early in the day by the time your cousin’s dress was tucked safely in the backseat of the car, and Nico could feel your hesitation behind the wheel when you realized it was time to head back.

“Hey, are you hungry? I’m starving,” Nico said. “We should get something to eat before we go home.”

“My mom is probably making dinner as we speak,” you chuckled, not opposed to the idea of skipping out on family time.

“She’s got the grandkids and your siblings. We’ll just say it was my idea and that we wanted some alone time. You know she’ll never get mad at me.” His lips pulled into a smirk. It was true. Nico walked on water in your mother’s eyes.

“Well, when you put it like that…” A smile slowly spread across your face. “Should we play a round of restaurant roulette?”

“You know me so well,” Nico laughed, already pulling up the list of nearby restaurants into his google search.

Restaurant roulette was something you often played when you were dating and couldn’t decide on a place to eat. It was your own way of discovering new restaurants and also how you made decisions when you were both too stubborn to agree.

Back in New Jersey, you had a list of all local restaurants and would randomly shuffle them and draw a number to decide which one you’d be going to, but in a town you weren’t familiar with, a random google search would have to do.

Nico didn’t show you the phone, viewing the list of places on his own and counting the total number of restaurants before asking you to pick a number.

“One through eleven, which will it be?” He asked.

“Four,” you answered.

Nico smiled wickedly before punching in the address.

The surprised restaurant turned out to be a Western country bar like one straight out of the movies. It was an odd choice of restaurant to be in a town that was most certainly not a small country town, but like every restaurant roulette choice, you embraced it with open arms.

You embraced the grizzly men sitting at the bar drinking glasses of dark liquor and the old, bearded bar owner serving the drinks. You even embraced the sticky booth table with the flickering light above.

The waitress was definitely a high schooler who would rather be doing anything than serving the two of you on a Thursday evening, but you figured she had no choice but to be there if you were going by the way she called the bar owner ‘grandpa’.

The menu, which was surprisingly long given the small establishment, had everything from fried appetizers to salads to steak. “There’s no way they can be doing all of this right,” you commented as you perused. It was nearly two full pages just of food and another full page of drink options.

“What do you think are the safest options?” Nico asked.

“Not the grilled salmon… or any fish option for that matter,” you replied.

When the teenager came back, you stuck to a simple burger while Nico chose a chicken sandwich, hoping that the bar at least had good classic bar food and handed the menus back.

Nico took your mind off your family while you waited for your meals, delving into updates on his family and his plans to go back home in the next couple of weeks.

“Is everyone doing okay? Your mom and dad? Siblings?” You asked.

It dawned on you then that you hadn’t spent much, if any, of your time together this week asking Nico about his life and his family. You’d been so worried and focused on your own issues that you neglected to check in with him.

Whereas Nico had met your family multiple times, you only had the privilege of meeting his when you traveled to Switzerland with him in the summer, and even then it was difficult for everyone to be together with his siblings both involved in sports. There was the rare event of his parents spending a week in New Jersey just last year, and that was the last time you’d heard news about them now that you thought about it.

“Everyone is good,” he answered. “They ask about you sometimes.”

Nico’s family liked you just fine from what you could tell and from what he would tell you. They weren’t given as many opportunities to hover and ask questions like your family did with Nico, but they were always welcoming when you visited. You had a good enough relationship where you would talk to his sister and mother separately on your own every now and then, though that had slowly fizzled out along with yours and Nico’s relationship.

For the most part, though, they only had Nico’s word to go off of when they developed their opinions on you, and Nico never had anything bad to say about you. Even when you were fighting or didn’t see eye to eye, Nico would never bad mouth you behind your back.

The waitress arrived with your dishes in record speed—a perk in ordering in a place that rarely seemed busy—and you were pleasantly surprised by the quality of them.

“I take back every bad thing I said about this place. I would definitely get this burger again,” you announced, polishing off the crisp fries on the side.

“I think this might be the best chicken I’ve ever had in my life.” Nico all but moaned around his sandwich, sending zings through your body at the melodious sound.

“How long are you going to be back home for?” You coughed awkwardly, trying your best to ignore the heat flooding your body by turning the conversation to something mundane.

“Till practice starts up again, hopefully,” he replies, dousing his own fries in an abundance of ketchup. “I already postponed going back because of this new trainer I’m seeing, so I want to stay there as long as possible.”

“You make me feel like a bad daughter because I’m here wishing this weekend was over so I can get back to Jersey,” you chuckled.

“Yeah, but your parents are coming to visit you in a couple months anyway.” His remembrance of your parents annual NJ trip just to see you stirred something inside you. “I get tired of my family when I’m home too. I think everyone does. Too much of a good thing sometimes, you know?”

Boy, did you. There was always a pang of guilt every time you thought about how you didn’t want to be around your family that made you feel like a disgrace or unworthy, so it was nice to hear you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

“Thanks for saying I’m not a bad person,” you said after a moment. “Even though this entire week has been based on lies.”

“But you’re lying because you care about them, so the pros outweigh the cons here.” You weren’t quite sure if you believed that, but Nico always said everything with conviction that you couldn’t help but mooch off his confidence.

“Yeah, maybe.” Perhaps the pros did outweigh the cons in this case, not to mention the lying saved you from unnecessary pity and coddling which was fun for no one, but that small bit of guilt still lingered in your chest despite all your attempts to settle it.

With a terrible turn of events, you woke up the next morning with a painful migraine. The few rays of light coming in through the blinds had you turning your face into the pillow and squeezing your eyes shut.

It was a rare occasion that you were overcome with debilitating migraines like this, but when they happened you knew you wouldn’t be moving for the next few hours at the very least. At most, you’d be out the entire day if you didn’t follow the very specific ritual and medications that you finally figured out to cure the headache.

The only bad part about following your migraine ritual is that it was hard to get yourself up to get the things you needed when your head was in splitting pain.

Curling the pillow around your head to block out the sounds of clanging pots in the kitchen, presumably your mother making breakfast, you let out a muffled moan at the overstimulation.

The moan had Nico stirring awake beside you.

Your migraines weren’t so rare an occurrence that Nico couldn’t immediately pick up on what was going on, but it had been months since your last migraine as far as Nico could remember.

“Oh no,” Nico said quietly, rubbing a hand across your back. “Is it your head?”

You let out another pained moan as an affirmation.

Your body was curled into a fetal position and burrowed under the sheets with the pillow wrapped around your head, and Nico kept his hand running softly over the fabric of your shirt in gentle circles for a few moments while he woke himself up and threw himself into mom mode.

“Wait here a minute, I’ll get you a towel for your eyes.”

The sound of curtains rattling against the rod let you know Nico was trying his best to close them despite the fact they wouldn’t completely block out the light. Then he shuffled off to the bathroom to find a washcloth to soak in ice cold water before coming back to you.

“Roll over, honey,” Nico instructed quietly, making sure to keep his voice as low as possible so as to not irritate your migraine further.

With your eyes still pinched shut, you rolled onto your back, and Nico placed the cold towel over your eyes.

“You don’t have any of your pills or stuff here, do you?” He asked, stroking your leg through the blankets.

“No,” you croaked out. “I need my ginger ale.”

“I’ll make a run to the store and get your things, okay? Think you can hang out for an hour?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I guess not.”

“Then drive fast, please.”

Your mother didn’t blink twice when Nico asked if he could borrow a car to drive to the nearest pharmacy to gather your migraine medication and items you needed. She was mildly worried about your condition since you planned on having family over for a barbecue in the afternoon, but she also knew the best way to cure your migraines was to get you the ingredients you needed.

“Would you mind making her a cup of coffee while I’m gone? Be sure to give it to her with a glass of water too, and she’ll ask for cream and sugar but don’t give her any because she needs black coffee for it to actually help her.” The instructions fell from Nico’s mouth in a hurry, and he shocked himself when he realized that he still knew this small tidbit of you. Knowing you was like riding a bike, Nico thought. He didn’t think he’d be able to forget you if he tried.

Your mom’s eyes sparkled with adoration at Nico’s order. “Should I make her any food?” She was half asking because she did want to help you if she could, but the other half of her just wanted to see what Nico would reply.

He didn’t disappoint. “Not now, no. She always takes some buttered toast with her pills and ginger ale, but I have to go and get that stuff first. I don’t need to get any bread, do I?”

Your mother shook her head, and suddenly Nico felt sheepish. Which he shouldn’t have since your family still believed you were dating, but in all the family events you took him to, he didn’t think he’d ever shown so much affection for you then than he did just now.

“You better get going,” your mother said, smiling at the blush slowly creeping across Nico’s cheeks.

The trip into town and back took forty-five minutes since Nico sped as much as he could without raising suspicion and enlisted the help of a teenage clerk to show him where everything was so he didn’t waste any time looking.

He had everything you needed: cold pack for your head, pills for the migraine, eye mask to block out the light, ginger ale for whatever magical purpose it worked on you when you were sick, and the few obscure snacks you absolutely needed to eat when the headaches hit. Some of your rituals were weird and Nico didn’t think they really helped in any medical sense, but he also knew that if you skipped even one step you’d be out for the entire day.

You hadn’t moved an inch since Nico left, and he found you in the same position with your cold towel no longer cold. The coffee cup was nearly empty on the nightstand, which was the best Nico could usually get out of you since you detested plain black coffee.

“You didn’t drink any water,” Nico noticed and tutted his disapproval while he unloaded the rations from the grocery bag.

You grunted your own disapproval as Nico divided up the proper amount of pills for you to take. He placed the pills in one hand and the glass of water in the other hand, and you took them gingerly, moving as little as possible to swallow them.

“Toast time,” you whimpered.

“I’ll go make it in a minute,” Nico said. He eased the towel from your face and patted your skin dry before sliding the eye mask over your head and then the cold pack on your forehead.

Things started to look up after you blindly ate your toast that you washed down with a glass of ginger ale when Nico gently maneuvered your body until your head was in his lap so he could massage your throbbing temples.

“You don’t have to stay here. You should go help my parents get ready for the barbecue later,” you said. “I’ll probably end up taking a nap soon anyway.” As good as the massage felt, it wasn’t Nico’s responsibility to care for you anymore, and you already felt bad enough for everything he’s done for you this trip.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind,” Nico replied, sending a flurry of butterflies through your stomach.

“Yes, I feel bad enough already. Please go do something more fun than this,” you groaned and attempted to push him off the bed, though with your depleted strength it was a gentle nudge at best.

Nico didn’t put up much of a fight after that, knowing you well enough to understand that you meant what you said and also needed to be alone to recover. It only took a few minutes after that for you to fall back into a dreamless sleep, hoping that when you woke up that this migraine from hell would be gone.

Even after years of bringing Nico around, it still baffled you how well he fit into your family. It baffled you in general just how well-liked he was by everyone.

After sleeping off the migraine and chugging another glass of water with pills, you managed to peel yourself from bed to join your family out back. You kept on a pair of dark sunglasses as an extra precaution, and even with the shades shielding your face, you still managed to lock eyes with Nico the minute you stepped outside to greet your mother.

In a motherly fashion, she patted your cheeks in her hands and checked for any sign of distress on your face before declaring you were well enough to fetch more fruit from the kitchen. Across the yard stood Nico, who was currently playing goalie for your tiny cousins’ soccer game, and he flashed you a bright smile at the eye roll intended for your mother.

After grabbing another bowl of strawberries for the patio table, you strode across the grass to check in with your ‘boyfriend.’

“Auntie!” Your niece crashed into your legs before you got within ten feet of Nico.

“Hey, bug.” You scooped her up in your arms and continued on your path.

“Are you going to play with us?” She asked hopefully, batting those long lashes she got from her mother.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to embarrass Nico by scoring too many goals on him,” you replied, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles.

“I’ve already scored five on him!” She held up all five fingers right in front of your face.

“She’s on the way to the Women’s National Team, I’m telling you,” Nico confirmed from the goalpost. “You sure you don’t wanna take a shot?” He asked. Then he dove dramatically to the side on a shot by another cousin of yours, easily letting the ball through his side.

There was a cocky smirk on his face, put there to intentionally rile you up as he added an extra eyebrow wiggle. And if it weren’t for the cheers and screams of six kids under the age of ten yelling for you to do it, you would’ve passed. But you were nothing if not competitive and easily swayed.

You set your niece back on the ground and one of the kids kicked the ball over to you. You’d played these silly backyard games with your family in the past and with Nico, and you knew enough about how he played hockey to know he preferred his left side over his right.

By no means were you a soccer superstar, especially compared to Nico who played two-touch with the team before every game, so you banked on him acting predictably.

“I’m not going easy on you,” he said as you dribbled the ball in front of the goal.

“When have you ever?” You quipped with a smirk of your own.

He bent his knees and got into position, which was a funny image considering the goal wasn’t all that big to begin with. You kicked the ball between your feet a few times to get a feel for it before you took off towards him.

His eyes zeroed in on the ball, intently tracking its movements as you went in on the right side. Your foot reared back to kick before you passed it to the left, a move Nico expected and followed easily. At the last second, right when he committed for the dive as your leg swung back, you spun around and kicked the ball back to the right.

With Nico on the ground, you let out a victorious laugh, taking your sweet time in squaring yourself up to take the shot into the open goal.

Choruses of cheers sounded behind you, both the kids and adults from the patio chiming in as you raised your arms in celebration. Nico laughed from his position on the grass, sitting on his ass with arms resting on bent knees.

“You thought I’d go for your weak side, huh?” You asked, strolling over to his hunched figure.

“Nice shot,” he said, rubbing his hands off of dirt.

You extended a hand towards Nico to pull him up, but you underestimated Nico’s pettiness and sore loser attitude because the next thing you knew you were on the grass too and half rolled under Nico’s body.

“Sore loser,” you laughed underneath him.

Nico’s smile was almost as bright as the sun shining above him, illuminating him in a golden halo that had your breath catching in your throat. “You’re a sore winner,” he remarked, poking your side.

The sweet moment only lasted a second longer before your nephew was jumping on both of you, inserting himself in the middle and effectively starting a dogpile of tiny children. One by one they tackled you until Nico was completely blocked from your view, replaced by cherub cheeks and sweat.

“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough for now,” Nico’s voice sounded from above you somewhere, and you got a brief peek of your cousin hanging from his back like a monkey.

Gently, he moved the kids to the side and off of you all while balancing the kid clinging to his shoulders until he could extend a hand to you.

Your cousin jumped off when Nico bent down to help you up, steadying you with both hands while you pushed to your feet. Fingers picked at pieces of grass and leaves sticking out your hair, and you brushed off the dirt dusting Nico’s shirt.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked, removing a smudge from your cheek with his thumb.

Summer always looked good on Nico. The sun did wonders to tan Nico’s skin and always made his brown hair look lighter, and when the light caught his eyes they resembled melted honey.

You cleared your throat and stepped out of his hold. “Much better. Thanks again for everything this morning,” you said. “I’m going to get some water.”

It had been so long since you had Nico’s hands on you, or his attention for that matter, and you momentarily forgot how intoxicating it was to be near him: to have his scent surrounding you, to have his arms around you, to have his eyes on you and looking at you like that. It messed with your head.

“You and Nico are so adorable,” an aunt commented while you helped yourself to a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you replied with a tight smile.

“And he’s so good with kids,” another aunt chimed in.

Nico had started a game of keep away with the kids, acting as the monkey in the middle that they were trying to keep the ball from. “Yeah, he is,” you said, your tone genuine.

More comments about Nico’s suitability came into the conversation, but you pushed them out. It was getting easier with the passing days to ignore them and all their comments because even if you weren’t together anymore, they were all true. Nico was a good person and he did treat you well before everything fell apart. He was good with kids and caring and compassionate. Hell, he’d agreed to this weekend knowing the stress it would put on him, but he did it because he was inherently good.

But damn was it going to suck breaking the news to them in a few months.

Emily held the latter still while you stood on the highest rung, hooking the string lights along the wooden beams across the ceiling and looping them intricately per your cousin’s instructions.

“You can do this yourself, you know,” you huffed after her third ‘no, not like that’ order.

“I’m the bride. What I say goes, remember?” She smiled sweetly below you. “Besides, you’ll be the one calling the shots soon enough when it’s your turn. You can get your revenge then.”

The ladder step slips out from underneath your right foot, and you go stumbling downwards. Emily gasps below you while you scramble to find purchase on the metal rungs, clinging your arms around the side and catching yourself on the third step.

“Oh god. Are you okay?” Emily asked, coming to steady you with her hands after you stopped moving.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you grunted. There was probably going to be a bruise on your thigh after this ordeal.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” Emily questioned. She paused for a moment then gasped. “Oh my god. Did Nico bring up marriage or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “No. Not exactly.”

Confusion settled over her face. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly and pulled yourself up slowly. “Do you wanna hand me the other end of the string lights?”

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Emily held the lights firmly. “Is something wrong with you and Nico?”

You hesitated, biting your lip in contemplation while she waited for a response.

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

And maybe it was the soft tone of her voice or the concerned look in her eyes, or maybe it was the combination of an exhausting week of lies and deceit taking its toll on you, but you broke at her words.

“Nico and I broke up,” you replied, slowly climbing back down until you were on solid ground.

“Broke up when? When did you guys get back together?” She asked.

“Broke up almost two months ago,” you answered. “We didn’t get back together.”

It took Emily a minute to process your words, her mouth opening to respond before shutting again. Her eyebrows drew further together and she crossed her arms. “What do you mean you didn’t get back together? What’s he doing here then?”

“I asked him to come back with me as a favor,” you said sheepishly, averting her gaze.

“Oh, honey,” she cooed softly. Grabbing your hands, she led you over to one of the dinner tables set up for the wedding and sat you down. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Everyone loves him,” you scoffed. “I already told everyone he was coming, and it’s not like I can fake a hockey emergency in the middle of the summer. I didn’t want to take any attention away from you with everyone pitying me.”

“Why’d you break up? Did he do something stupid?” Her eyes turned sharp. “Do I need to kill him for you? What did he do?”

“Nothing,” you said. Her eyes narrowed in challenge. “Promise.”

“If it was nothing then why’d you break up?”

“Honestly? I don’t know,” you sighed. “It was like we fell apart, I guess. I don’t know. We just stopped caring about each other’s lives. He stopped calling when he was away from home, and I stopped waiting up for him at night. We stopped going on dates and making time for us. It was like the spark died and we didn’t know what we were doing together anymore.”

“And he still came back? It doesn’t sound like he stopped caring about you if he did that.”

“He’s a good guy. You know him.”

“I do know Nico, and I know he’s a terrible liar. I haven’t seen him upset or uncomfortable once this week being with you. I wouldn’t have even been able to tell you two weren’t still in love.”

“Well, he loves you guys.”

“He loves us because we’re your family,” she pointed out. “What about you? Do you still care about him?”

“Of course I do.” There was no hesitation in your answer. “It’s just—”

“Weird.” You both said at the same time.

“You know, when David and I took a break, I thought we would never get back together. I was twenty and thought I had my whole life ahead of me. And looking back, the space was good for us. I don’t think we would still be together now if we hadn’t taken that year apart and figured some stuff out about ourselves,” she confessed. “You’re young, and sometimes you need time apart from someone to discover what you truly want.”

“This week with Nico has been so confusing,” you admitted. “It’s like he’s the perfect boyfriend from when we first started dating. He took care of me the other day when I got a migraine and helps my mom cook dinner and remembers small things about me. He even went to town with me to run all your dumb wedding errands and didn’t complain. The way he’s been acting this week makes me question why we even broke up in the first place.”

She hummed quietly beside you.

“What’s that look for?” You asked.

“What look?” She smirked.

“Just say what you’re thinking, Em.” You rolled your eyes. “I know you’re dying to give advice.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what to do,” Emily started cautiously, “but I do think he still cares about you.”

“But do you think Nico’s it for me?” You played with the hem of your shirt, pulling at a loose thread.

She shrugged. “Who’s to say? I’d like to think so because I love him, but I also love him for you. I’ve never seen you light up like you do when you’re around him, and he’s always looking at you like you’re the North Star; always somehow knowing exactly where you’re at in a crowded room and always gravitating towards you whether or not he realizes it. Even now he still looks at you like that,” she remarked. “If you guys find your way back to each other, it was meant to be. And if you don’t, he’s not the end of your world. Either way you’re going to be okay. I’m sorry you felt like you had to lie to everyone this week.”

It was your turn to shrug. “It hasn’t been the worst, I guess. Definitely better than dodging everyone’s ‘so what happened?’ questions. Knowing dad, he’d probably lie and say he never liked Nico to make me feel better even though I’m sure he would date Nico himself if he could.”

Emily laughed at that, nodding along to agree with your statement. “If it gets too much, feel free to dip out tomorrow whenever you want. I know everyone can be a lot sometimes.”

You squeezed her hand in acknowledgement. “Thanks, Em. We’ll be fine though. Just two more days, right?”

Later that evening everyone had gathered in the barn reserved for the reception, the one you helped set up earlier that day with your family. Save for the tablecloths and centerpieces, everything was in place and ready for the big day tomorrow.

The rehearsal dinner consisted of just your close family for tonight and gave both David and Emily’s side time to mingle and get to know each other before the eventual ceremony while also thanking everyone for their help in planning and setting up for the wedding.

Once the best man and maid of honor speeches were done and everyone had eaten and the rehearsal dinner was finished, more drinks started flowing and a few more impromptu speeches were given. They were nothing scripted or long, mostly just family members extending their congratulations to the happy couple, but you still weren’t prepared by the time the microphone made its way to you.

Nico patted your thigh encouragingly as you stood up.

“Emily was my best friend growing up. She snuck me desserts from the kitchen when I was a kid and taught me how to tie my shoes. She even took me shopping for my first thong when I was in high school and was too scared to ask my mother.” Everyone chuckled while your mom shook her head at you. “She was always someone I looked up to and aspired to be: a successful career woman and a loving partner.”

“I’ve known David since the first time I caught them kissing in the driveway when he dropped her off at Thanksgiving, and Emily gave me five dollars to promise not to mention anything to the family. I was thirteen,” you said. “And throughout the years, I got to watch them grow as individuals and as a couple, and I couldn’t imagine a better man for my cousin. Even when they broke up in college, Emily always told me she’d marry him, and she was right.”

“I’ve been so blessed to grow up with incredible role models and literal couple goals, and everything I could hope to have in a relationship one day is what they have. So congratulations guys, I love you both.”

You felt unexpectedly uncomfortable when your speech concluded, heat rising to every surface of your body as you collapsed back into your seat. Nico’s hand immediately reached out for yours, squeezing reassuringly as the next person took the mic from you. You were scared to meet Nico’s eyes, opting to take a large drink of your champagne before casting him a sidelong glance.

His eyes were soft and full of emotion, a tight smile on his lips as he squeezed your hand again. You okay? His face asked silently, concern etched across his features.

Not in the slightest, you thought, but you managed to send him a tight nod anyway.

“Nice season this year, by the way, Nico,” your aunt gushed after the final speech ended.

You knew it was only a matter of time before someone brought up hockey as it was a popular topic around your professional athlete boyfriend. As far as you knew growing up, your family didn’t even like hockey and two years later they were experts in all things Devils. Well, all things Devils past 2015. Your parents had even called Nico when he was promoted to captain to tell him congratulations.

“You guys are definitely heading in the right direction,” your uncle chimed in.

“Thanks.” Nico nodded his appreciation. “We still have a long way to go, but we just take it one day at a time.”

“Heartbreaking way to end the season, though. Sorry about that,” your aunt sympathized with a frown.

She was referring to all his injuries, which had remedied themselves just in time for the end of the season to roll around, but sadly it wasn’t enough for them to get into a playoff position.

“Not as heartbreaking as Y/N’s year though,” your mom said, causing you to straighten your spine in defense.

“Damned West Coasters,” your dad huffed. “If they didn’t want my baby, they don’t deserve her.”

Nico sent you a sideways glance, a question in his eyes that he didn’t voice because if there was anything Nico learned in the last few years, it was how to read your social cues. So he played along with the family until he could corner you later.

“Yeah, it was a shame.” He took your hand comfortingly, giving it a reassuring squeeze before bringing it to his own lap.

Thankfully, the conversation didn’t linger on you much longer before your uncle was launching into a different story about something completely unrelated like the annoying neighbor he had that didn’t know how to properly trim hedges or understand property lines.

Nico’s gaze shot back to you briefly, one that you met with a sheepish expression and you understood what he was saying immediately.

We’re not done discussing this.

“You should’ve told me.” Nico’s soft voice jolted you back to reality, disturbing the silent night you were taking comfort in.

You escaped the party as quickly as you could to take a breather outside, finding solace in the empty patio porch out back while the party continued on inside.

“What difference would it have made?” You chuckled humorlessly.

A glance over your shoulder revealed Nico standing in the side exit, the door shut behind him and secluding you from the party. His hands were in his pockets as he leaned casually against the wood, tie undone around his neck and hair disheveled.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything either way.” You mindlessly drummed your fingertips on the railing.

The back porch overlooked nothing but vast, empty land, but the real sight you were here for were the stars. In the city, the stars were so hard to see sometimes, but out here in the country they lit up the sky like a million tiny fireflies.

“Maybe not,” he shrugged, pushing off the side to walk over to you. “That doesn’t mean you should’ve gone through it alone.”

He came to a stop next to you at the rail, mimicking your stance identically. “I didn’t even know you wanted to do all that, and I’m not even sure I fully know now what it is you wanted. You never mentioned it to me.”

It was your turn to shrug now. “I didn’t know either,” you said quietly. By the end of your relationship, it wasn’t like you and Nico talked much about what was going on in your personal lives. “Besides, I didn’t think I’d get into the program, and I didn’t. It was some respected company in California that would’ve taken up six months of my time. There was no point in getting anyone’s hopes up. I only told my mom because she always bothers me for information and telling her about the partnership seemed safer than talking about our failing relationship.”

“When did you find out?”

“Mid-April.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Even when we had all our shit going on I still cared,” he questioned.

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. “I knew you had your own shit going on with the team and injuries, and I didn’t want to add to your stress. It’s not like we were close at the end. It didn’t seem fair to dump my shit on you too.”

You fiddled with a piece of some chipped paint. “And I was embarrassed,” you added. “I put in all that hard work in my application for nothing. They didn’t want me. I was disappointed in myself.”

“Oh, honey,” Nico said. With one movement he took your fidgeting hand within yours.

You still refused to meet his eyes, ashamed of the tears that began welling there. It had been three months since the rejection email came in, and you thought you were over it. You really did.

Nico shifted your body to face his, bracketing you in between him and the railing. One hand tilted your chin up to meet his gaze while the other held your waist comfortingly. Those butter soft eyes of his only made the tears threaten to spill over. This is exactly why you didn’t tell him. You couldn’t handle the pity.

“And now you feel sorry for me.” You let your head fall forward to his chest in defeat.

“I feel sorry you went through that all alone.” He stroked your neck gently. “Had you told me, I would’ve said you’re not a disappointment and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. From what I heard it was highly prestigious and selective. To be in the final round is an achievement itself. And there’s always next year, right? Other programs? You’re not a disappointment.”

They were words you needed to hear but hated to admit it. It’s one thing when your parents told you ‘oh, well you did your best sweetheart’ because they were obligated to support you, but it was another thing entirely when the love of your life was comforting you.

“Thanks,” you croaked, lifting your head slowly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I’m sorry I was a shitty boyfriend and that you felt like you couldn’t tell me,” he apologized.

“I’m sorry I was a shitty girlfriend,” you said. “I should’ve put in more effort to fix us.”

“Hey, we were both to blame.” His thumb ran over your cheek in soothing circles. “I miss you though, you know?”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, knowing the feeling well. “I do know.”

“We weren’t so bad together though, were we?”

“No, but we weren’t great either, Nico,” you chuckled. “Remember all the late nights and unread texts and missed dates?”

“I try to remember all the vacations and post-game celebrations and midday movie marathons.” He smiled weakly.

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t all clouds and thunderstorms either.” His index finger tilted your chin up just the slightest. “Would it be bad of me to say I wanted to kiss you right now? You looked really pretty tonight, and I don’t know if I told you that.”

“Yes.” It came out breathy and didn’t help your case in trying to dissuade him, but you made no indication to move away from him either way.

The telling smirk on his face said he knew what you were thinking. You wanted to kiss him as much as he wanted to kiss you. So you did.

Damn the consequences that would come from kissing your ex that was pretending to still be your boyfriend, he looked too good in his dress pants and baby blue button up with the top two buttons undone, giving you the slightest peek of his chain underneath. You grabbed the back of his neck with your hand and crushed your lips to his.

It was full of passion and urgency, both of you making up for the two months apart and overcome with the emotions the wedding atmosphere brought out.

Nico deepened the kiss with a slide of his tongue into your mouth, claiming you with the force of a man possessed by need. Hands dropped to squeeze your ass. “It’s probably even worse if I suggested we get out of here, huh?”

“Terrible idea,” you confirmed, taking a moment to catch your breath before going in for another kiss. “Let’s go now before someone comes looking for us.”

The short drive back to the rental house was a blur with Nico speeding along the back roads to get home as quickly as possible just in case any of your family members decided to check out of the party early.

You shuffled to your shared room in the dark, bumping into the wall nearly three times on the way there, and locked the door with a click behind you. Walking Nico backwards, you knocked him onto the bed and clambered on top of him in a frenzy while working your fingers on the rest of his buttons.

His hand guided your mouth back to his as you worked on his shirt, shoving it down his arms after untucking it from his pants and throwing it to the side carelessly. The hem of your dress rode up your thighs as you straddled Nico’s lap, shamelessly grinding yourself along the bulge of his pants to pull a pained groan from him.

“We should probably talk about this,” Nico managed to grit out, eyes casting upwards towards the ceiling in agony.

“We can talk later,” you said, tugging the rest of your dress up over your hips to give you unrestricted access to rub your barely covered pussy against him. “I need you so bad.”

Nico was hard as granite under you, and you watched him visibly gulp as he considered his options. The more logical part of his brain knew you should discuss sleeping together before doing it and the repercussions it would have on your relationship, but the reckless part of his brain couldn’t get over how beautiful you looked above him and how good you felt on him.

Future Nico could deal with the fallout. Present Nico needed to be inside you before he combusted.

You raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for his go-ahead.

“Fuck, okay. We’ll talk later.” Your hands immediately went to his belt buckle and zipper. “You’re still on birth control, right?”

You nodded your response, taking his cock out of his pants and giving it a couple tentative squeezes. Nico gripped your hips tightly as he released a loud moan, and you gave him another leisurely pump before rising above him, shoving your panties to the side, and lining him up with your entrance.

Nico guided you onto his length until he was seated to the hilt and your thighs made contact with his. You palmed his shoulders as pleasure rang through your body.

Fingertips dug into your ass when you tried to move. “Give me a second.” His voice was raspy and breathless. “It’s been a couple months, and fuck, you’re tight.”

You tried not to think about him not having sex in a couple of months and the implication that he probably hadn’t fucked anyone since you, but your walls reflexively clenched around him at his words.

Instead, you busied yourself with another kiss, tangling your fingers in his soft locks and taking his slack mouth in yours.

You waited for Nico to shift beneath you to let you know he was ready before rolling your hips forward and off his cock just to sink back down when you rocked back. Synchronous moans left both of you at the drag of Nico’s cock along your walls, and his hands found their home on your hips to help move you the way he wanted.

It’d been so long for you, since you and Nico broke up, that every slide of his cock into you had you spiraling towards that edge in record time; especially when one hand grasped your tit and worked your nipple between two fingers and the other hand fell to stroke your clit in determined circles.

“You close?” He asked, lips brushing against your ear when you leaned down for another kiss.

You gave him a tight nod, eyes falling shut while you focused on the exquisite feeling of him filling you up. Picking up your pace, you bounced harder atop him to bring yourself closer to the edge. A few more thrusts had you cresting that hill, an unrestrained whine mixed with a moan leaving you as you came on Nico’s cock, your walls fluttering and pulsating around him while the thumb on your clit strummed you perfectly.

After your grip on his chest loosened, Nico was flipping you onto your back in a smooth movement, and he hitched a leg over his hip while he pounded you this way. His breath was heavy in your ear as he chased his high, taking only a few more thrusts before he halted and then came inside you.

His moans always sounded so pretty when he came, and mixed with the way he lightly bit your shoulder as he finished, it sparked a second, smaller orgasm to wash over you.

Once Nico came back down, he captured your lips in another kiss; this one softer and slower than your previous ones. Then he slid out of your dripping cunt and rolled to the side in a boneless heap.

You both laid in silence, catching your breaths while you each waited for the other to say something first—to burst the euphoric sex bubble and have reality set back in, but it never came. Wordlessly, you got up from bed and used the bathroom to dress for bed. Nico followed in your steps when you climbed back under the covers and came back shirtless and in a pair of clean boxers before tucking himself in beside you.

Neither of you said a thing as Nico folded himself around your back, nestling himself nice and cozy against you and wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you in deep.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered with a kiss on your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Nico,” you repeated back, making yourself comfortable in his hold.

‘We’ll talk tomorrow’ was the unsaid conclusion you both came to that neither of you minded. But for tonight, you’d enjoy what you had.

Emily stole your breath walking down the aisle, the long white train of her wedding dress catching the red rose petals as she drew closer to the altar. You all raised out of your seats when the music started playing, standing with Nico in a row near the front with your brother and his family on your other side.

The weather was perfect for an outdoor July wedding, the clouds providing just enough cover to keep the heat from becoming sweltering. A long white carpet extended through the aisle that led to a beautiful floral altar overlooking a large expanse of fields.

Nico stood on the edge of the row, giving him a view of everything: the bride, the altar, David tearing up underneath it, but the most important view for Nico was you.

Your skin glowed in the afternoon rays, which also illuminated the pale yellow dress you wore, transforming you into sunlight itself. He couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker back to you despite his efforts to watch Emily walk down the aisle, but nothing compared to how pretty you looked beside him.

He was even more grateful when you were finally seated and you took his hand in yours, resting them both on your thigh. Your intertwined fingers rested comfortably throughout the ceremony, and at one point you even allowed your head to fall on Nico’s shoulder as your eyes filled with tears at their sentimental vows.

Nico produced a tissue he had tucked away for this specific purpose, handing it to you and watching adoringly as you blotted your eyes carefully. Maybe he even took a risk and kissed your temple softly when you were too busy cheering at their walk back down the aisle.

There were a lot of questions unanswered and more problems that needed to be resolved after last night’s slip-up, but Nico was just thankful you didn’t run screaming from him when you woke up in his arms this morning. In fact, you indulged him in a few minutes of conscious cuddling before pulling away to get ready for the day.

And maybe he was seeing things, but Nico swore your stare lingered on him for longer than normal over breakfast pancakes and that you nudged his foot with yours under the table, but he could’ve also been delirious and shamelessly hopeful.

Even at the reception, you sat closer to him at the table than you did the night before, occasionally letting your elbows knock together or letting your thighs brush momentarily. You didn’t shy away from his grasp like you normally did when you mingled with other guests, seamlessly introducing him as your boyfriend to strangers and leaning in closer to his touch. And when Nico pulled you onto the dancefloor, you twirled happily in his arms for three whole songs, whatever awkwardness that had been surrounding you all week was gone for those ten glorious minutes.

“Stop staring at my cake.” Nico laughed. “Just go get another piece.”

After burning off all the calories from dinner, you settled back down for dessert and easily tore through your own slice of cake. And Nico knew you had your sights set on his slice now.

“You took the largest piece. I’m not hungry enough for a whole slice. I just want one more bite.” You batted your eyelashes at him. “Please.”

Nico rolled his eyes but scooped up a chunk of cake on his fork and held it in front of your face. You gladly opened your mouth to take the bite. He watched with heated eyes as you licked the remaining frosting off your lips, and without overthinking his next move, he leaned forward and captured your lips in a kiss.

It was chaste and sweet and only lasted a second before Nico pulled back, the sweet taste of icing now coating his mouth.

“Nico…” Your voice was strained, your eyes downcast.

“Let’s take a walk,” he said, standing up abruptly.

The night was winding down already, a couple people had already left the reception and those who remained were well on the way to getting drunk. You looked around hesitantly.

“Come on.” Nico held his hand out for you to take. “No one will mind us leading a little early. Besides, we have some stuff to talk about.”

“I guess we do, don’t we?” You took his hand and let him lead you away.

Nico gave you the opportunity to say goodbye to Emily and David, but you skipped on telling the rest of your family lest they try to convince you to stay.

The July air had chilled significantly since the afternoon, but it was a welcome cool compared to the stifling air in the barn.

Nico’s hand still held yours as he steered you towards the backyard area, leading you down a cobblestone trail that continued into a thick copse of trees.

“I don’t think this is the way back to the house,” you commented as you traveled further into the woods, the trail illuminated by the occasional lamppost stuck in the ground.

“I figured this would be easier than trying to talk it out at the house with your parents and family there. And I found this cool spot when I was helping your dad set up yesterday.”

The destination came into view just a few short minutes later, a small wooden gazebo in a garden clearing, completely vacant and adorned in hanging lanterns. In the middle rested a large bench.

You both sat on the old bench, close enough to still hold hands but not nearly as close as you were back at the reception. The chirping of cicadas engulfed you from all sides while you sat in silence, internally debating how to address the situation.

“So I was—”

“We should—”

You nodded for Nico to go first.

“Last night was incredible,” he started, glancing down to your intertwined fingers. “For me, at least. This whole week with you has been great, really. Your family, the wedding, you, everything. I wanted to know if it was as good for you as it was for me.”

“Yeah. It was,” you admitted with a sigh. “It has me all different kinds of confused if I’m being honest.”

Nico’s chin tilted down in agreement. “Yeah. I know.”

Another silence filled the air between you.

“I think this week made me realize how much I missed you. How much I missed us,” you said. “And not us at the end where we didn’t even want to be around each other but us before everything went to shit.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone as much as I’ve missed you these past months,” he confessed. “What do we do? What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. We can’t go on like it is now, and we certainly can’t go back to how it was. I don’t know what other option is left.”

“Then we’ll start over.”

“Nico…” you scoffed. “We already know everything about each other. We can’t just start over.”

“Who says we can’t? You said it yourself we can’t exist like this and we can’t go back. The only other option is to start over. It’ll be our version of a do-over,” he said.

“And how would that even work?”

He shrugged. “We start from square one. Start with the dates and weekly phone calls and go on from there. I’ll give it some time before I ask you to be my girlfriend and then you’ll start spending the night. Slowly you’ll infiltrate my apartment like you did the first time by leaving some extra clothes around and bringing your own throw blankets.” He grinned as he reminisced. “We’ll do it all over and do it right this time. We’ll talk when shit gets hard and not let other obligations monopolize all our time.”

Nico lifted his arm to sling it around your shoulder, all the while keeping your hands connected. You leaned into his embrace and rested your head on his shoulder.

“What happens if I want to apply to another program that takes me away from New Jersey?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, but now that I know that’s something you want, we can work out a plan. God knows I have enough money to fly you back whenever you want, and we’ll always have the summer. It’ll be a temporary problem that’ll require a temporary solution. Past that? Who knows, but we can figure it out.”

“You sound pretty confident for a guy who ignored my text messages for days on end just a few months ago,” you chuckled.

He laughed at your joke and pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve done a lot of growing up,” he teased. “But it’s like you said with David and Emily. They needed their time apart, but you always knew they were meant for each other. I think you’re meant for me and maybe that was supposed to be our time apart.”

“How philosophical and romantic of you,” you remarked with a smirk.

“It’s the wedding vibes,” he replied. “And don’t act like you weren’t crying earlier at the vows.”

“Only if you admit they made you tear up as well.” You had seen the slight sheen of tears in his eyes after the ceremony.

Nico elected to ignore your comment. “So what do you say?”

“To starting over?” He hummed in acknowledgement. “You really think we can do it?”

“I don’t know, to be honest, but I think we have a much better chance than last time. And we’ll never know until we try, and I really want to try with you.”

You gave it a moment to ruminate. There was no doubt it wouldn’t be easy, especially since you knew that you did want to leave New Jersey at some point, but somehow even that fact didn’t bring you down. Maybe knowing everything you knew from last time would set you on a better path this time around. And there was no way to know unless you tried.

“Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s give it another try.”

“Really? You want to?”

“Yeah. I do. I want this with you.”

You looked up at him then, gazes connecting and a mutual compromise was reached. One more try.

“Should we get back to the party?” You asked, after a considerable pause of longing stares.

“Not yet,” Nico answered, and then he leaned forward to peck you sweetly. “I wanna spend a little more time here with you. We can count this as our first date.”

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #my writing #devils13

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