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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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aloesarchives · 8 months

Text

Popular Boy (JJK One-Shot)

TW/Warnings: Fem Reader and She/Her pronouns, Angst with Fluff ending, Profanity, Smoking from Shoko and Suguru, Highkey Miscommunication Trope, Cheesy cliches, this one-shot being way too long than it's supposed to be, a little OOC Satoru and Suguru

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem! Reader

AU: Modern/High School AU!

Pronouns: She/Her(any gal could read this, but Reader is slightly coded to be introverted, good at drawing and crafts, and a nerd)

Word Count: 10.2k words

Summary: You weren't supposed to fall in love with your best friend Satoru Gojo. But you did anyway. It doesn't help that he is the most popular guy in your school.

(A/N): This is my longest one-shot to date. I went off the rails and wrote this out of this idea and brain dump I had. Un top of being sick, I didn't post for like 2 weeks because I was working on this and having little motivation. But I'm back!

[!!!Unedited and not proofread!!! 1/24/2024 4:27pm CST]

Having a crush on your best friend is the absolute worst. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. But after reviewing your symptoms, you concluded that you are, indeed, in love with your best friend, Satoru Gojo. It's too bad he’s the most popular guy in the school. Suguru is second to him but doesn’t bask in the attention like his friend does.

It all started when you became friends with them in your first year of high school. Shoko was in your class, and you two became best friends instantly. You’d usually eat alone somewhere during break or lunch because the cafeteria was always rowdy, making it overstimulating. One day, your usual spot was taken over. Though it bummed you out your little spot was discovered, it wasn’t yours in the first place, so you went on a search for a new one. After a few minutes of searching, you spotted Shoko smoking in a hidden spot behind the school. She hears you from how your feet crunch on the dirt and asks you to join her. Though you didn’t smoke, you stayed with her. After talking briefly, Shoko asked if you were free after school, taking a long drag out of her cigarette.

You never stayed too long after school, only for your respective clubs, but that’s it. You also had no friends, so maybe this is your chance to get closer to Shoko. Upon agreeing, she smiles before taking her last drag out and extinguishing her smoke in a nearby ashtray. As the two of you returned to class, she told you that her other two friends were coming. Hinting that they were quite the handful. Your expression lightens upon hearing the two new people joining your hangout with Shoko. Perhaps this could be what you needed to step outside of your comfort zone to have a social experience like everyone else your age.

After getting off the train with Shoko, she pulled you along the busy crowd and met the two boys at the subway station entrance. You didn’t, however, expect Shoko’s mystery friends to be Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto—the most well-known boys in the entire school and possibly the whole district. Shoko was making your introduction to them as you grew shy under their gaze. Nervous was an understatement; anxiety was brewing in you like rain clouds forming a storm. What if they scoff at you? Mock you? Purposely pick on you for fun? Each thought raced against each other across your mind that you didn’t notice Satoru placing his hand on your shoulder. It snapped you back to reality as you looked up to avoid being rude.

You’ve heard the rumors and the hushed whispers from every corner of the school about how Satoru Gojo was among the most good-looking guys. How he had blue eyes that matched the sky and hair like snow. You only caught glimpses of him throughout the campus but never saw him up close. But now that you are, you can confirm it for yourself. To you, he looked more ethereal, if anything. His blue eyes were like the endless cerulean sky above, his white hair lightly tousled in the wind; he was beautiful to you.

“Hey, you don’t have to stiffen up around me. I don’t want you to go all shy on me (Y/N). Satoru Gojo, at your service~.”

Extend his hand to shake yours; you return the gesture, albeit clumsily. Satoru chuckles before he unexpectedly brings your hand to his lips. He kissed your fingers ever so gently, feather-like almost. Your body most certainly would have erupted in a blaze by his actions. But it didn’t; you were more caught off-guard. You wondered if he did this to every girl he came across. He just smiled afterward but gets bonked on the head by Suguru, who went to introduce himself to you.

“Satoru, you’re going to scare her off. Sorry (Y/N), he’s always like that. I’m Suguru Geto, and I hope you’re not uncomfortable because of him.”

You quickly dismissed it, trying to ease Suguru’s concerns. After hanging out with them, you knew you found people you would call friends. You never had that much fun until you hung out with them. Going to arcades, eating out together, and wandering the city of Tokyo filled you with non-replicable happiness. After that hangout, the rest was history. Since then, you have always hung out with Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko. You all stuck together like glue every time possible. You never guessed their popularity rubbed off as well. You became known on campus as a well-known upperclassman and now a senior.

But you noticed you spent more time with Satoru than with Shoko or Suguru. You could credit it to his goofy, childish personality that matched your vibe even more. He loved discussing Digimon and was happy you shared the same interest. You two would indulge in each other’s interests and hobbies. It became more evident that both of you had grown closer from when Shoko adopted you into their group. Yet, you told yourself time and time again not to fall for Satoru. In fear of losing what you have with each other because you caught “feelings.” In addition, Satoru had many, many, MANY admirers—girls across the school, district, and the Tokyo Metropolitan area. Many come from prominent backgrounds, blessed with being gifted, or simply beautiful in every way. While you didn’t mean to self-sabotage yourself, you were beautiful and brilliant in your own right; you were being realistic. How could someone like Satoru Gojo, from a wealthy and prominent family for centuries, go for someone like you? It was wishful thinking at that point, but it was stretching itself thin even then.

Anyhow, this brings you to the present. It’s December 1st, six days before Satoru’s birthday. You were in your dorm, conjuring up what to get him. It was more complicated than because the man was loaded. He had the money to buy anything and everything he wanted. So what can you get for him that wasn’t already bought? After some time, you had the genius idea to make something for him. You decided on making a bracelet and a framed sketch of him from one of your sketchbooks you occasionally draw in.

While working on your gifts, you were on the receiving end of teasing from Suguru and Shoko, specifically from Suguru. I mean, he was the first one to catch on to your feelings for his friend. Shoko had her suspicions but never mentioned them in case she was delusional. But once Suguru brought it up, she instantly joined in the teasing. It was harmless fun, yet you couldn’t help but rethink your crush on Satoru. Your feelings for him shouldn’t exist, yet you can’t help it. You felt alive, but most of all, you felt comfortable and safe with Satoru. You never hid your lovely personality or felt ashamed of your interests. Satoru was always supportive and was a part of your shenanigans too. As cheesy as it was to admit, it felt like you’ve found your soulmate, your other half. You always relished your moments with Satoru, no matter how short or dumb they were. Sure, you loved your moments with the gang, but it hits differently when it’s only Satoru and you. It was as if your life changed when he came into it.

During the day before Satoru’s birthday, Shoko and Suguru hunched over your desk as you finished the page you were doodling. The smears from the graphite and erased pencil markings showed the fine details to capture Satoru’s features.

“Wow, those look exactly like him. If he were animated, he'd be drawn like this. May I, (Y/N)?” Suguru asked.

You nodded, and Suguru picked up the sketchbook to inspect the page further. Shoko peered over his shoulder to also get a look.

“I think Gojo would love this. Don’t you think so, Suguru?”

“I would think so too, Shoko. It’s a well-thought-out gift (Y/N). Satoru would love it.”

“Wait, (Y/N)! Show Suguru what else you made him!”

Suguru raises a brow at the brunette as you pull up a photo on your phone to show to Suguru. Suguru squinted his eyes a bit to see the picture a bit more clearly.

“You made that bracelet for Satoru? It’s pretty nice. Where’s our (Y/N)?”

“I have them back in my room, Suguru! I just. . . You know. . .”

“So you’re implying we’re not as special as your beloved Blue Eyes White Dragon?”

“SHOKO, you’re not helping!!! OfcourseImadeitmorespecialforhimbecausehereallylikesdigimonandhisbirthdayiscomingup–”

“(Y/N)! I was just joking! Geez, calm down before you pop a blood vessel.”

As you catch yourself from any further rambling, you are about to explain the bracelet to Suguru before Satoru slides the classroom door open. You think it’s him but can’t tell through the mountain of gifts and bags in his arms. But seeing a wisp of his white hair gave you all the more reason that it was Satoru. Satoru plops the pile on his desk as his arms cave in, some gifts falling off the edge and onto the floor. One fell near your desk, so you picked it up and placed it back on his desk.

“Is it Valentine’s Day? What’s with the gifts, Satoru?”

“*sighs* These are from numerous girls all over the school from varying grades. My birthday is tomorrow, so I guess I'll get the early gifts. Though, I don’t know how to return all this to my dorm. You guys wanna help me open them up back in my room?”

You all replied yes and helped Satoru with his pile of gifts. As you put on your sketchbook, you felt a breath tickle your ear.

“Hey, whatcha drawing, (Y/N)? Drawing (favorite Digimon/Pokemon) again? Let me see!”

You caught a whiff of his surprisingly minty, fresh breath. Usually, it comes in hot with the number of sweets he’s been eating, so this was a pleasant surprise to you.

“I’ll show you later when we open your gifts in your room, ‘Toru. You gotta be patient.”

You chided while swatting his all too-close face away from you. Little did you know, a sickly sweet smile flashed on his face upon hearing his nickname. Once the last bell rang, you four headed straight for Satoru’s dorm to open all the gifts he received from the day. Once dumping them into a pile, you each read the note attached to the gifts and opened them up. Some were cool, homemade gifts, others were basic and generic. Most were sweets or baked goods since he is widely known to have a sweet tooth. You all were open and chatty when Suguru grabbed a neatly wrapped velvet box.

“Hey, Satoru, isn’t this from your ex?”

“Which one?”

“Don’t know, let me see the tag. . . From Satomi. . .”

“Oh, her! Let me see, Suguru!”

You cringed hard hearing Satoru talk about his numerous “girlfriends.” As much as you didn’t want to say it, Satoru’s playboy attitude was your least favorite thing about him. All the girls he saw shared one common trait: they never stayed too long with him. Satoru would cycle through many girls every few weeks to maybe a month. He never bothered to introduce them into the friend group, let alone bring them to your shared hangouts. Now that you think about it, he never talks about them when you or the others are present. He never calls them his girlfriends or partners, just sugar-coated words and nicknames meant to sweeten a non-existent fruit that never grew in the first place. You wondered if he would treat you the same if you dated him. But you were thinking too deeply, FOCUS GIRL!!! It’s now or never. Well, not really, but you have the perfect chance to give Satoru his birthday gift! You can make it work for just the two of you! Find him by himself, steal him away to deliver your gift, and possibly confess.

Satoru's birthday gifts from his fans dwindled to only small boxes and clear bags. Shoko and Suguru categorized his gifts as apparel, food, trinkets, etc., while Satoru plopped beside you. You were munching away at some candy, deciding to take a break from opening the cookie cutter-esk presents as your vision became spotty. It was silent for a moment, only the sounds of your other two friends' voices bickering about which pile a gift should go. Satoru shifts his attention towards you, mindlessly popping the candy into your mouth before dramatically yawning, spreading his limbs across his bed. His legs would stretch over your lap. You popped the last candy before throwing the empty bag at him.

“What’s wrong, Satoru? You've grown tired of your gifts or what?”

“That and feeling sore from sitting on the floor. . . Hey! Will you show me your drawing from earlier (Y/N)?”

“Uh. . . I dunno, Satoru–”

“Pleaseeeeeeee?! I promise I won’t crease the pages like last time! Come on (Y/N)!”

Satoru juts out his lip and gives his puppy eyes with praying hands. You glance at Suguru and Shoko, who snickered at your little predicament. You sighed deeply and pulled out your sketchbook for him to see. He was giving you his full attention, asking questions, and complimenting the fine details of your latest creation. You two were smiling and giggling along as you turned the pages. However, you were getting nervous because you didn’t want Satoru to see his page. You hoped he got bored or distracted so you didn’t have to flip through more from your book. Suguru has a sixth sense because he called Satoru’s attention before you flipped to the next page, which would’ve been his.

“Okay, man, we sorted your gifts into these four separate piles, which one should be obvious. . . Look at the time; it’s almost curfew for the girls. I’ll walk them to their dorms, Satoru.”

Before Satoru could protest and tag along, Suguru snatched you and Shoko away and out of the dorm. Satoru stood up perplexed, before shrugging it off and storing his gifts away. Suguru dragged you two to the skywalk and looked dead into your eyes, startling you from his sudden closeness.

“You have to do it tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“Uh, do what, Suguru?”

Shoko and Suguru gave each other a face before looking back at you.

“You gotta confess to Satoru, (Y/N). Do it tomorrow when you give him your gift on his birthday. And before you ask, we knew about your feelings for him way before. It’s painfully obvious, (Y/N).”

Shoko just nods her head in agreement. You knew Suguru had a point; it’s now or never. But you didn’t want to make things awkward for Satoru, let alone pressure him to say yes because he feels terrible for rejecting. Overthinking started kicking into high gear, and you started thinking about every possible scenario Satoru could react to. None of them were of him reciprocating your feelings. Unfortunately, Suguru had to say the dread words no one wants to hear when trying to confess to their crush.

“The worst thing he could say is no, (Y/N).”

Shoko elbows him while you wince at his words. You knew he meant to comfort you, but it didn’t help ease your nerves. Suguru, observant as ever, picked up on it, and from Shoko’s reaction, he knew his words were a miss.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll come with you for support, so it won’t be as stressful going alone.”

Suguru gives you a comforting smile, and you give on in return. Shoko said she couldn’t come because she volunteered to tutor some underclassmen for some Visa gift cards. So she says good luck to you before walking across the skyway and into the building of the girls' dormitory. You gained some confidence and bid Suguru goodnight to finalize your gifts. You framed Satoru’s page in a sleek dark blue frame and knotted Satoru’s bracelet. The marble beads of the bracelet were white, cerulean blue, and black. Complementing each with a small interchange charm in the middle where an Agumon charm dangled freely. You wrapped up both gifts and placed them in a mildly used paper bag you had from when you went shopping.

As the next day rolled in, you were surprisingly giddy to give your gift. You just had to catch Satoru alone and give yourself a good ten minutes to slip in your confession. The problem was you hadn’t seen Satoru at all. Sure, today was a half-day, but Satoru was barely in class. When he was, though, he was flooded by many girls telling him happy birthday or giving more gifts. Since it was a Friday, Satoru didn’t do much after school and would wander Tokyo for the remainder of the day. You knew you were losing time, so doing it right after school was best.

Once the last bell rang, you packed your bag and held your present tightly to find Satoru. However, he was gone from his seat when you looked at his desk. While you tried to find him, Suguru texted you. He said he saw Satoru go behind the school. He also said he would wait for you at the front gate to hear about your results. As you go to the back, you are smiling so hard that it would make your teeth rot. But as you got closer, your sweet smile instantly dropped when you heard a girl’s voice and another voice you made out to be Satoru’s. Your heartbeat repeatedly drummed in your ears as you hid yourself to not be noticed. Trying to even out your breath, you slowly peek your head in a slow, agonizing manner to get a better look. Unfortunately, your curiosity kills your heart as it confirms your worst fear.

Satoru stood smiling, and another girl giggled like a classic school girl in a high-school rom-com movie. You recognized her as she was in the same grade but from a different class. You’ve seen her around but never been a part of Satoru’s unofficial fan club. Yet you could never have guessed she liked him too. You knew you should look away, already seeing what was needed. But the naive sliver of hope forced you to continue watching, hoping it was a delusion your mind conjured up. Although you couldn’t hear what they were saying, you knew the other girl beat you to him as she held Satoru’s hand and smiled up at him. Satoru places a hand on her cheek and probably says something you can make out ‘I love you' before dipping his head to meet hers. A chill washes over your body as your grip on Satoru’s present stiffens, further crimping the paper bag. Shakily, you pulled out your phone and took a picture before turning on your heels and going anywhere but here.

Suguru was ever so patiently waiting on the outcome. He was blissfully smiling. Hoping all is going well and in your favor. He was distracted by his phone when he recognized the sound of your footsteps. He pockets it as he sees your figure walk towards the gates. He cheerfully called out for you but was met with silence. When you walked past him, your head hung low; Suguru knew something was wrong. Concerned, he quickly went after you while calling for you. When nothing works, he steps in front of you to hold your shoulders still to prevent any more movement. Shaking your shoulders, he firmly asks what’s wrong.

A wretched look contorted on his face when he saw your face. Your eyes are shiny from glossy tears on the verge of overflowing from the edges. Lips in a tight quiver, trying to not let a sob escape from within the depths of your hurt soul. You were trying your best to stay together, but Suguru saw you were hanging on by a thread. He gives you a comforting, tight hug as you begin to cry into him. Letting it all out and providing comforting pats on your back. As you start to calm down, Suguru gently takes you to a nearby cafe where some of your group hangouts and study sessions happen. Considering your current state, he keeps you from paying for your drink. Once he got them and sat down, you told him what you saw that caused this. Suguru chokes on his drink in disbelief upon hearing about Satoru’s doings.

“He what?! Are you sure, (Y/N)?”

You nodded as you pulled up the picture on your phone to show Suguru. His eyes widen even further as he stares at the picture. Returning back your phone, he takes a big sip of his drink.

“So, what are you going with your gift then, (Y/N)? Are you still going to give it to Satoru?”

“I... I. . . Don’t know, Suguru. . . I did make it for him, but I don’t think he’ll care.”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t, (Y/N)?”

“You know what I mean, Suguru. Satoru doesn’t really hold onto any gifts he gets. Unless it’s sweets or something he thinks is cool, he’ll donate, give, or throw it away. My present would collect dust in his room and be forgotten. We literally sorted out his fan mail yesterday.”

You glance over at your initial present for Satoru. The bag has deep creases and wrinkles from death gripping it in your disassociated state. You delicately bring it to your lap, blankly staring at the two dedicated gifts inside. Sighing in defeat, you slowly fold the top of the bag before setting it back in its previous place. You gave Suguru a tired smile, saying how wishful thinking blinded you from reality. Suguru couldn’t help but feel pity. It hurts him to see you like this and blame yourself for dreaming about something he knew would become a reality. But he was thrown in for a loop because he was sure his best friend was hopelessly in love with you. The glances, the consistency of bringing up your name, the extra care he gave when it came to you, IT WAS ALL RIGHT THERE! Was Satoru leading everyone on, you included? Suguru was going to get to the bottom of this. He escorts you back and asks Shoko to stay with you until nighttime.

After filling Shoko in, you looked at the crippled bag sitting alone on the floor. Taunting, making a mockery of you, and constantly reminding you how you really let your feelings get out of hand to let you believe a fantasy. How foolish you are, little stupid fool you were, you think. Getting off your bed, you go over to the bane that reminds you of your naivete as a hopeless romantic. You were tempted to throw the whole bag away; consider burning it all.

Despite thinking of wiping the existence of those gifts from this world, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. They were drawings of Satoru and a handmade bracelet with his favorite Digimon, and you were proud of how they turned out. The time and dedication you put into it really showed how much this man had a chokehold on your life no matter what. Crush, friend, it didn’t matter. He really changed your life; you would be forever grateful for that. Even if that meant you always stayed friends. It was a better fate than being strangers altogether. So you decide to store the bag in an empty drawer for miscellaneous items, not wanting to see it anymore. Shoko was surprised by your actions. Though she would understand you destroying them, she didn’t expect you to keep your gifts. You just shrugged, saying destroying it wouldn’t do you any good. No amount of satisfaction or fulfillment would come from it. Shoko just gives you a hug as you lean into it.

Ever since that day, you slowly stopped talking to Satoru. He didn’t notice it because you would make excuses or leave immediately before he could catch up. He thought you were busy with homework and school. It was brought to his attention when you wouldn’t hang out with him. Whenever he texted you to hang out, you would say you were busy or not feeling good. It got worse when you didn’t attend your group hangouts with Suguru and Shoko. It was always the four of you. Without you, it felt incomplete, and Satoru started to miss you and the vibe you brought. Even when he asked Suguru or Shoko where you were, they would give the same answer you did. And it was starting to frustrate him. Did he say or do something to distance yourself from him? Did he accidentally hurt without realizing it? Why did you suddenly not want to talk to him anymore? He sees you talking to your other friends and classmates without a care in the world. Your lovely lips always curled upwards, and how your cheeks and eyes molded to highlight your face, you were absolute divinity in his eyes. Had you always looked so beautiful to him? Yes, but he didn’t realize that until now since his only way of looking at you is from a distance.

Every time he would try to make his way over to you, you gave a quick side glance in his direction before wrapping up any conversation and leaving. This honestly began to hurt Satoru. He had never dealt something like this with anyone else. Maybe when he had severe fights with Suguru, but they would make up in the end since he knew it was mostly his fault. But this is different because he was in the dark of your avoidance. It was like he was the bubonic plague, and you were straight-up social distancing yourself from him. It didn’t matter when or where; as soon as he entered within a 12-foot radius, you were going in the other direction. This had been going on for almost two weeks! It was now the 21st, the last school day before winter break. Nothing significant was happening today besides the classic winter break assembly. He needed to talk to you so you two could somehow talk it out and make it. It’s ironic how oblivious he was to the circumstances he was in. The roles are now reversed because now he’s pining after you like you had been for him for the past few years. You usually would sit with them during these events, but since you’re distancing, you opted to sit with your peers. When you did sit with them, you would be the furthest away from Satoru.

Satoru should’ve been paying attention to the assembly. But his only focus was you, who was on the other side of the gymnasium. You were sitting on opposite bleachers with one of your underclassmen, Riko Amanai. Satoru wished he could teleport himself to you, pick you up, and go to a quiet place to talk. But he knew he had to be patient to make his move, something Suguru had to remind him constantly. Once the assembly was over, Satoru by-lined to where you were. However, the sea of students eager to leave school is challenging, even for the 6’3 boy. He saw glimpses of you with Riko as you pulled her along and weaved through the crowd out of the school. The resistance he met trying to reach you became so aggravating he was shoving anyone who got in his way. It got to the point where students made room for him to pass through, fearing the wrath of Satoru Gojo in a bad mood.

Alas, once he exited the school, you had already gone off campus to who knows where with Riko and Kuroi, her caretaker. Satoru tightened his fists, and his face bore a scowl as you slipped away again. He would have punched the school’s concrete fence if Suguru didn’t pop up in front of him. Satoru was slightly calmed when he saw his friend, but a twinge of unease settled in when he saw Suguru’s strained smile. To a regular person, it seemed like a genuine smile. But Satoru knew Suguru enough to know when he gave these smiles. This one meant he was in deep trouble. Suguru said he needed to talk to Satoru about something over a bucket of KFC with one of the Visa gift cards Shoko gave them. Satoru followed it, knowing there was more to Suguru’s unidentified mood. However, Suguru just stops in front of the KFC, idly standing with his back to him. Seeing his standoffish behavior, Satoru becomes confused and finally breaks their tense silence.

“Look, Suguru, I know this isn’t the best time. But we need to talk about (Y/N).”

“What is there to talk about her, Satoru?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Suguru. You noticed how (Y/N) has barely been hanging out with us. Giving excuses to not hang out. I don’t understand why this happened so fast. Two weeks ago, (Y/N) was fine. She was laughing with us and being a part of our stupid antics. Then, after my birthday, she slowly stopped replying to my texts and avoided me altogether. Suguru, you got to know something. I don’t want to be left in the dark anymore. I need to know what I did to make her stop talking to me.”

Oh, Suguru knew the reason why you were doing this. You told him yourself. You admitted to Suguru you didn’t know how to act around Satoru anymore, in fear of spilling your confession and making a fool out of yourself. You knew how cowardly it was to do this. Not correctly communicating your emotions and actions to Satoru was self-sabotage, and your relationship with him would suffer severely. You tried to ride out your feelings to the best of your abilities. But you learned that those feelings for Satoru wouldn’t go away no matter what you did. So, you thought the best option was to slowly distance yourself from Satoru to heal your broken heart and save your dignity. Suguru was against this at first. But he let it slide since it was only Satoru and not him or Shoko.

What he didn’t let slide was how he saw his best friend paraded around his latest girlfriend. He knew that relationship wouldn’t last at all because there was one thing he knew about his best friend. Satoru Gojo is a lonely person. No amount of fan girls or guys dick-riding him would fill the void of loneliness Satoru faced in his life. He always was told that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was talented and good at anything and everything he did. But with that, people only saw him from afar, never really caring to realize Satoru was like anyone else besides his wealth. Suguru knew you made Satoru feel seen and let him dwell on his antics so he could be a teen, not some high, mighty God people were willing to kiss his feet. Satoru fell in love with you but doesn’t want to admit it. Seemingly taken you for granted. Suguru doesn’t blame you for trying to lose feelings for him. He would, too, if the person he liked gave mixed signals and had a cycle through partners like daily outfits even though they heavily implied to their best friend they wanted you but never cared to tell.

You would have made the first move. But with many rejections, some harsher than others, you decide to wait for the other person to say something first or drop an obvious hint. You aren’t going to drive through a red light, only green ones. You often hear the phrase, ‘Girls who make the first move on a guy get the relationship.’ That is a blatant lie and bullshit because it only works if the guy doesn’t care, the girl asking is conventionally pretty, or the guy already liked or was interested in the girl. You experienced so much rejection that you might as well give up on telling your feelings so as not to be seen as pathetic. You thought it would be different for Satoru because of your powerful chemistry together. But he sent many mixed signals, being flirtatious and teasing you, genuinely looking out for you simultaneously, all the while still never giving a break to dating and having a long line of girlfriends at his beak and call. It was too complicated for you. Then, with the incident, you knew you had no chance with him because it seemed he would never feel the same.

“Do you like (Y/N), Satoru?”

Satoru gave his best friend a bewildered look, his face recoiling.

“Yeah, of course, I like (Y/N), Suguru. What kind of question is that—”

“That’s not what I’m asking you, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N)? Yes or No, simple as that.”

“What are you trying to get at, Suguru?”

Suguru visibly groans at the Satoru’s density. This was annoying Suguru at this point.

“Satoru, be honest with yourself. Admit it, you’re in love with (Y/N). How you look out for her, care for her, and constantly bring her up in conversations every chance you get, the longing gaze you give her when she isn’t looking, always staring at her instead of anyone else in the room. The list goes on and on, Satoru. Stop denying it. Do you love her, or are you just saying that because you want to joke about someone’s feelings?”

Satoru’s voice was caught in his throat; he had his answer, but his body wasn’t giving him a chance to say it. It was like Suguru hitting the nail every time, making Satoru feel cornered. Suguru sighed frustratedly at the silence of his best friend, who usually would have his answers ready in the queue.

“So you never really loved (Y/N) then, Satoru.”

“What! No! I do love (Y/N), Suguru—”

“Then why the fuck do you still indulge in your playboy personality? You and I both know that won’t get you anywhere, Satoru. It’s doing you more damage than good, yet you continue feeding into it! Maybe if you gave a break from your causal flings, (Y/N) would have confessed to you, and the two of you would have been dating by now. God, You’re just a headache, Satoru…” Suguru doesn’t shout, but his sharp tone is on the edge of becoming angry.

Wait, what?

You were going to confess to him?

You like him too?

Satoru blinks owlishly while trying to process this mind-breaking information. You liked Satoru, so the feeling was mutual, right? Then why is Suguru getting mad at him for feeling the same way?

“Wait… Suguru...(Y/N) likes me too? Why didn’t she say anything in the first place? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Because you already had a girlfriend, Satoru. (Y/N)’s not a home wrecker.”

“Yeah, okay. But I was single for two weeks! She knew that! Why didn’t she confess to me then?!”

“I don’t know, Satoru… Maybe because she was more focused on making your birthday gifts than her confession towards you. How much of her time was dedicated to making them? She was going to confess to you but decided not to.”

“When, Suguru?!”

“ . . .Your birthday. . . (Y/N) was going to give your gifts and confess on your birthday, but you decided to fuck yourself over.”

“ ‘Fuck myself over? What do you mean, Suguru?” Satoru said in a hushed but shocked whisper.

Suguru pulls out his phone, pulls up the picture you took, and shows it to Satoru. Satoru’s eyes widen like saucers, surprised by Suguru’s possession of a photograph that captured his private moment. He grabs Suguru’s phone to take a closer look before looking back up at him, face still bearing the same expression.

“Wait, that happened on my birthday. How did you take this?

“I didn’t take it, Satoru. . .”

“Huh? Then who—”

Oh. . .Oh. . .

Oh no. . .

It all was starting to click for Satoru. Suguru looked unamused as he saw his friend’s gears moving in his head.

“Suguru, I—”

“So, do you love (Y/N), Satoru? Yes or no?”

Satoru stays silent with no motions to verbalize an answer.

“*sighs* Then tell me, Satoru. Do you love (Y/N) because she is beautiful? Or is she beautiful because you love her?”

Suguru left a defeated and devastated Satoru in the streets to be alone with his thoughts. In doing so, he hoped his friend would connect the dots himself. Satoru stood frozen in front of the KFC, finally understanding it. The distance, the consistent decline in hangouts, the short conversations, being ‘happy’ around others but never near him, how your smile droops at the mention of his name, and the solemn expression your eyes wore ever since his birthday all added up. It was all because of him. Sure, it’s both parties at play here.

On the other hand, your actions were just reactions to his own, especially when his loneliness caused him to become desperate in seeking out the attention of multiple girls he would ‘date.’ Consequently, it signaled he was looking for something casual with no strings attached, making you believe giving a confession would be useless to someone like him. But that’s far from the truth.

He couldn’t believe he had done you dirty for so long. You were always in front of him, waiting for him this whole time. You were the one to give him warmth and fill in the void of loneliness that has plagued his soul for so long. But he never gave you a chance because he never cared to ask or consider it. He took you for granted because he knew you would always be there for him through everything and anything; you were his ride or die. Oh, how irresponsible of him that not truly appreciating your presence would lead to your eventual withdrawal.

Now he realized his love for you was real and profound as it was tiered above anything else. The way he flexed his bicep when you linked arms with him to stay close in big crowds, the stars your eyes have when talking about your favorite topic made him have this dumb love-sick look, or your smile that always filled him with love and joy when it’s directed at him, he still wanted to experience these things with you but as more as friends. And yet, he was on the verge of losing it all forever. Three years of friendship/pining would be wiped away in three weeks. All because he was scared to admit his fragile vulnerability behind his pompous attitude. He had to do something; he needed to. Or the only thing he will have of you is the memories you two created. Satoru booked it and ran through Tokyo for ideas on what to do. He didn’t care if he looked absurd. All that mattered to him was finding a way to mend things. The only thing on his mind was you.

Because he knew it was you.

It always has been you.

And he had to pull off miracles to save your relationship with him.

It was the next day; Satoru was carrying a big shopping bag around Tokyo, hoping to find you. After spending the rest of his afternoon and night finding some ideas, he made you what he dubs his ‘I’m sorry’ present, which was also your Christmas present. It contained a 15-inch plushie of (Your favorite Animal/Digimon/Pokemon/Character), a jacket you told him you wanted but was too expensive a while back, and (earrings/necklace/bracelets/rings/any sort of wearable jewelry) in your favorite color as you stared at it longingly when at the mall with the gang, Satoru always made a note of that.

Now, the hard part giving them to you in hopes of talking with him. It would have to be a miracle to cross paths with you. Satoru couldn’t text you since you stopped responding to his attempts at communication. In a vast city being hectic in the upcoming days of the holidays, he needed all the luck he had just to spot you in the crowd. But even if he knew your schedule by heart, there was no sign of you in Tokyo. He could visit your home, but he assumes he’s an unwelcome guest since you lived with your (sibling(s)/guardian/parent(s)/loved one), and you confide in them frequently. As time never stops, he’s losing time. His precious time with you is slipping away, never to return. Both and forth, the wind chill nipped and whipped at his exposed skin. Satoru’s cheeks, nose, and knuckles were rosy as his body worked overtime to keep warm. The puffs from his mouth fogged up his glasses as he forced himself to continue searching just to have a chance to run into you.

Satoru is not religious, nor does he believe in a god. And yet, in those moments, Satoru started to pray. He was praying, begging, pleading for any divinity to hear his desperate cries to come across you. Just a chance, anything, he’ll do anything to see a wisp of (hair color) hair walking along the streets. His strides slowed; every step he took was heavy. Until they eventually came to a stop; his chest puffed in and out after wandering aimlessly along the bustling streets of Tokyo. He exhausted himself to the point that he was unaware he was in front of the school’s gates. He didn’t even notice the gates were wide open, and a familiar figure approached them along the adjacent side. His hands were on his knees, hunched over where a shadow loomed over him. Then he hears a voice so angelic and heavenly that he believes he was hallucinating at first.

“Satoru? Satoru, are you okay?”

Slowly, he lifts his head to meet your gaze, seeing you are bundled up well. You wear a slightly troubled face while holding an umbrella over his head.

“What brings you here, Satoru? I thought you had stayed home today since it was forecasted to snow.”

Once pointed out, Satoru noticed white specks falling in front of him. He stands up at full length, making you adjust your umbrella's height on him. Though his signature grin is on his glossy lips, internally, he is screaming and celebrating that his prayers have been answered. After hours of aimlessly trying to find you throughout the city, you were finally in front of him in the most ironic place. He chuckles at your gesture before gingerly taking your umbrella and hovering it above you two.

“I was going to ask you the same thing, (Y/N).” He gives a warm smile at you.

“The school left the campus and dormitories open so students could grab their things to take home. I forgot some stuff at my dorm, so I came today to get them. Would you like to accompany me, Satoru?” You said, adjusting your empty canvas tote bag on your shoulders.

With no hesitation or thinking, Satoru immediately said yes. He smiled as he walked the two of you to your dorm. But you couldn’t help but glance down at the big shopping bag he was holding. ‘It must be a Christmas present for his girlfriend… she is so lucky.’ you thought. Not a single peep came out of you two throughout the trip to your dorm, even with no words, tension building up in the air surrounding you. Neither one of you wanted to make the first move. It was childish to continue like this. There was no bad blood between the two of you at all. But you were persistent in embarrassing yourself in front of Satoru. Before all this, you were never afraid to have banter or say the most off-the-record stuff with Satoru. But it was different when it was unrequited thoughts and feelings, as you didn’t want to further humiliate your pathetic self. Once you got to your dorm, you said you wouldn’t take long. Closing your door, Satoru leans against the back of it. He watches silently as you diligently gather your needed items and place them inside your bag. Each item is packed into your bag, and he has less time to make his move. He knows he needs to say something because he sought after you for a reason.

Likewise, you were in the same boat. You can feel the tension blanket your body as you retrieve your things. Avoid direct eye contact with Satoru for fear of breaking your facade and folding. While trying to focus on anything that wasn’t him, your eyes kept glancing at the massive bag beside Satoru’s feet. It was a decently sized bag spaced out from the items it contained. By the looks of it, you assumed Satoru went out splurging on his latest girlfriend for Christmas.

‘Wish that was me receiving that bag. . .’ You thought to yourself as you arranged the items to avoid ruining your bag.

Satoru snapped out of his trance when the sound of your shuffling stopped. Your head slightly hung low as you stared at the bag with flat palms. You sighed with your head shaking side to side. You decided to break the silence to ease the tense air in your room.

“I didn’t know you did last-minute shopping, Satoru. Guessing how full that bag is, it’s your Christmas present to your girlfriend. You love spoiling your girlfriends with endless money to burn. Keep doing that, and you’ll go broke, dude. . . Lucky her. . .” You slipped the last part out under your breath. Your smile dropped briefly before returning, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Satoru.

However, you remembered Satoru had excellent hearing. He could pick out of the faintest of whispers. When you realize that, you panicked and faced him. From how his brows were raised, you knew he definitely heard it. Your brain scrambled to find a way to cover the creaks in your walls from your slip-up, causing you to speak up. What you didn’t expect was Satoru doing the same.

“Sorry, Satoru, I didn’t mean that–”

“(Y/N), I need to–”

After catching each other’s words, you both abruptly stop to give space for the other to talk. Satoru gestures for you to go first. Gentleman as every. Feeling the anxiety and embarrassment weighing on you, you didn’t dare to look at him when talking, so your head focused back on your bag.

“Look, Satoru. . . I know how immature this is, but I want to apologize for the sudden change in my behavior and distance over the last few weeks. It was uncalled for, and you deserved a proper answer.–”

“No.”

“It’s because– huh?”

Prompting you to look up at Satoru, to which he had an unreadable expression. His glasses were blocking the creases of his eyes to indicate any of his emotions. A chill of uneasiness ran up your spine when you saw the serious look on Satoru’s face. He walks over to you with his hands in his pockets as he stares down, his expression unchanged.

“No, I need you to hear me out.”

Satoru cut off any chance for you to speak because he and you would be done if you did. He knew if he didn’t find you before Christmas Eve, what you two had would cease to exist. Once winter break ends and school resumes, he and you would be in two separate worlds. Ultimately becoming strangers who once knew each other. The thought of it made him nauseous and clammy to the core. You were the sun that shined in his endless cerulean sky. The moon and stars that gave illuminated his night sky. You gave light to the vast numbness he’d endured for all he could remember. You were the light he had been longing for years. And he was going to lose it all because he was a coward who didn’t have the balls to admit it and used dating as a coping mechanism to fill the hole in his heart. So it’s now or never for him to be vulnerable to you because he feared this was his last chance.

“I know you didn’t mean to distance yourself from me at all. I know you still cared about me and didn’t want to push me away for fear of humiliating yourself. Being me, I didn’t notice at first that you were hurting until you uprooted yourself from my life, and it’s been god-awful without you. . . I’m sorry, (Y/N).”

The genuine sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. You noticed that. It came straight out of Satoru Gojo, not from the egotistical, pompous, popular senior, but from your best friend. So you decided to up your ears to what he has to say. When you gave him your undivided attention, Satoru knew this was it, so he spilled it out.

“I’m sorry that I haven’t really appreciated your presence. I took you for granted because I thought you would always be with me, with no chance of leaving me. That bit me in the ass once you slowly stopped being with me. But I know there’s more: the mixed signals I gave off, the playboy attitude, and the lack of self-awareness I had for myself. It was a way for me to not confront the crimpling loneliness and numbness I’ve been having. I indulge in my fangirls and causal relationships, hoping it would fix it. But it was just a temporary solution to a long-term problem. I saw the girls as a means to get my mind away from it, and the girls get to be with the famous Satoru Gojo. . . I’ve done this song and dance for so long that it was a part of my routine. . .”

“Oh, Toru. . .”

God, he missed that nickname you gave him. The way it rolls off your tongue in any tone, it’s seared into his memory and mind. When people, especially his ‘girlfriends,’ try to use that same nickname on him, it fills him with unexplainable rage. That name was for you to use on him, not them. They didn’t have a place in his heart like you do, so he always corrected them to minimize the usage of that nickname. But when you said it, it was soft and tender like the snow falling outside. He knew he was getting to you, and it was working. He relaxes as he closes his eyes, only to open them when your hand gently holds his cheek. Thumb swiping it in a comforting manner. You wanted to say something so Satoru didn’t have to do all the work. For him to admit, he took down all his walls so you could see all of him. To you, it was a privilege and honor to see such vulnerability coming from an individual who was charismatic and oozing with unspeakable rizz. So you continue to listen patiently to see what point your famous friend is making.

“But you disrupted the routine, (Y/N). . . When you came, it felt like I didn’t have to do that anymore. You made me feel free and alive. Allowing me to be my authentic self around our group or just the two of us. But most of all, you made me savor each moment I shared with Suguru, Shoko, and you. I always cherished what I had with them. I cherish what I have had with you over the time I’ve known you. I always did. Maybe that’s why the moon and stars shine brighter when I tell them about you. They know how brightly you shine in the endless sea of regular people. Yet I couldn’t bring myself to admit you already had my heart. . . And in doing so, I hurt you in ways I couldn’t have imagined. . . I am so sorry I had to make you wait so long, (Y/N).”

You hadn’t realized your tears were cascading down the curves of your cheeks. Was this really happening? Did Satoru just confess to you? You think this is all too good to be true, a scenario you conjured up to cope with hopeless romantic delusions. But his voice was full of raw fondness. His face had this lovesick expression, and his eyes bore sheer devotion as his tears were caught in his eyelashes. He really did feel the same way after all. He would’ve resumed pouring his heart and soul out if you hadn’t firmly pulled him into a tight hug.

Though caught off guard by the gesture, he warmly welcomed it as he returned the action. Tears wet his shirt as you clung to his chest. Satoru lightly kissed your head before cradling it like it was the most fragile thing in the universe. The once-thick tension disappeared, and a comforting warmth blanketed the two of you in its place. You two dared not to pull away, taking in the moment that has caused mental gymnastics for both of you. Eventually, someone had to pull away, and it would be you. You smiled so warmly at him with love-filled eyes. You wipe away Satoru’s tears that continue to fall and hit his glasses.

“. . . I love you too, Satoru. I should also apologize because I didn’t communicate my feelings to you. I was scared of how you would react to my confession. I didn’t want to lose what we had, nor did I want to pressure you into saying yes to spare me the heartache. I also didn’t know how to act when I was with you, and I feared I would look stupid. I shouldn’t have thought the only solution was to cut myself out of your life. Though these are my explanations, they don’t justify my excuses. Please forgive me, Satoru.”

“All is forgiven, Sweetheart. Will you forgive me, too?”

“Of course, Satoru. . .”

Satoru starts to dip his head as you both smile at each other. You were going to let it happen, but a thought came across your mind as you softly stopped Satoru’s head. With a pout, Satoru would ask what was wrong before he was faced with a panicked look.

“Satoru! What about your girlfriend?!”

Satoru blankly stares at you before he starts to chuckle quietly. You were truly a kind person.

“Satoru! I’m being serious! Stop laughing!”

“Oh my dear, (Y/N). You truly have a kind and caring heart. I promise you I’m not cheating on her, nor are you homewrecking. She texted me she found someone else and ghosted me right after. I’m all yours, baby~.”

Satoru waves his hand as he pulls out his phone to show you the proof, as you have always been skeptical of his words. Once you visibly relax, your gaze returns to the big shopping bag Satoru carried around. He already knew what you were going to ask and had an answer.

“Why don’t you take a look and open it yourself, (Y/N)? You did say the bag was my Christmas present for my girlfriend~.”

Your face heats up as Satoru retrieves your Christmas present. He holds it out, and you slowly take it from him. His grin becomes a soft smile at the reaction to the gifts in the bag. You squealed at the massively cute plushie as you gave it a happy squeeze. You gasped and were awed when you pulled out the jacket/sweater, gleefully trying it on.

“Give me a twirl, Love.” On command, you spin yourself so he can see how it captures your figure. Anything does look good on you in his eyes.

“I thought this was sold out, Toru! How did you get your hands on this?!”

“I have my ways. Now open your last gift.”

You go to open your last gift, and how your mouth was opened reassured Satoru that he was the best gift giver in the world. Fingers delicately hold up (favorite jewelry), observing the glow and reflection it gave off. It was gorgeous and unique as it had (favorite gemstone) being the main centerpiece. Only the best for you.

“Satoru, you still remember this?”

“Of course I did!”

“But that was over three months ago. . .”

“I know, (Y/N). But the way your eyes lingered on it when we went to the mall, I always noted it. Plus, I thought it suited you the best, so I had to buy it.”

“Oh, how sweet of you, Satoru. Thank you for the Christmas present. I really love them.”

After returning your gifts to their bag, you walked to your dresser to fish something out. Satoru watches curiously as you pull out a crumpled paper bag. Satoru eyes widened as you handed the bag to him.

“ While they are Christmas gifts, they are technically your birthday gifts. I would’ve given them on your birthday but chickened out when I found out you had a girlfriend. So Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Satoru. They may not be as good as your gifts, but it’s something, right?”

You offer a smile as Satoru opens his gifts. You giggled at his extravagant reactions, praising and adoring his Agumon bracelet that he instantly wore on his wrist proudly. He pulls out the other gift and is shocked to see the drawings of him. The frame fits in his hands as he analyzes each sketch of himself. The detail and precision that went into each told Satoru you took the time and energy to draw him. But it also made him giddy as he looked extremely handsome and good-looking in each of the drawings. It caused him to blush when he realized this was how you see him through your eyes. As he was looking at your drawing page, he noticed the frame’s stand was attached to its sides.

Turning it around, he saw another drawing on the other side. But this sketch made Satoru’s heart beat out of his chest. The page contains only one illustration of two people walking with smiles. However, those two were him and you walking, smiling at each other, and holding each other’s hands. Satoru’s silence did concern you for a bit, but it was shattered when Satoru went in steadfastly to seal the gap between your lips. Your initial shock wore off before you let him reciprocate his kiss. You can feel his soft and smooth lips; he needs to give you his lip care routine. After parting, Satoru leans his head against yours, his arms not unraveling from you.

“No, they are wonderful gifts. Thank you, (Y/N). I love them. . . and I love you.”

“I love you too, Satoru~.”

Basking in each other’s warmth, eliminating the cold and gloomy atmosphere from outside. As much as you wanted to stay together a little longer, the campus would close soon for the rest of the break, and you must leave quickly. You didn’t want to leave Satoru yet, so you tried to extend it as much as possible.

“Hey, Satoru? Can you walk me home? The forecast said the snow will pick up tonight, and I don’t want to go home alone.”

Satoru gives his classic grin before kissing your forehead sweetly.

“I would love to, Sweetheart. I’ll carry your bags while you can hold the umbrella.”

The snow continues to softly fall as the two of you walk along the bustling streets of Tokyo. Although the white puff clouds appeared every time someone spoke and the tips of Satoru’s face were bright red, Satoru never paid attention to the frigid temperatures. Even in this cold white winter, he can see that your bright aura always gave a comforting warmth he yearned for. Making you stand out amongst the sea of passersby, the bright neon lights of Tokyo, and the white dots that continue to cover the city.

The light that shines and gives light to his dull Cerulean sky. Satoru’s world wasn’t grey anymore as he had finally found his light, you.

Bonus:

—A few days later—

“You think they made up, Sugs?”

“Honestly, I hope they do. If not, we’re fucked, Shoko.”

It had been a few days since Shoko and Suguru had last heard from you and Satoru. Neither has responded to your texts as often as usual, making the two nervous. Then Suguru proposed a hangout before New Year's Eve. He didn’t add it in the group chat because he was unaware of the situation. Opting to ask you two individually instead. Even though you two responded, he was unsure if the storm between you two passed over or was still raging on.

However, his initial worries would be meaningless soon enough. As Shoko and Suguru were taking a drag at the meet-up spot, they spotted two figures approaching them. Squinting their eyes to get a better look, they recognized that it was you and Satoru. Their eyes traveled down a bit to see both your hands intertwine. The love that came from Satoru’s smile and your eyes told them everything.

Though the two smiled and high-fived each other, Suguru grinned ear to ear, which earned a frustrated sigh from Shoko. She then reaches into her coat to fish out her wallet.

“I guess I win, Shoko. Hand over that $25 Visa gift card, please?”

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zeezelweazel · 9 months

Note

honestly love anything you write but bottom! alexia is the best love it

Alexia Putellas| With all the time in the world|

___________________________________

I'm definitely more of a tits gal but there's just something about how good Alexia's ass looks in the kit shorts I start foaming at the mouth every time I see her.

Part two of Wrong place, wrong time

TW: degradation, ass play, strap on use, overstimulation

___________________________________________

You always keep your promises, Alexia knows this. That's why she can't keep herself from squirming in her seat, she can't wait to go home and see just how you'll make good on your promise. She's already wet just from thinking about it.

You try not to smirk when you notice her constant squirming. You loved when Alexia got in this mood. You decide to tease her by calmy placing your hand on her thigh. Alexia sucks in a harsh breath and closes her eyes. That's not the kind of reaction that you were hoping for so you slowly trail your hand onwards in her inner thigh and squeeze.

Alexia whines and bites her lip, her legs instinctively closing and trapping your hand in place. You smirk when Alexia softly pleads for you when your hands tease her clothed slit. Suddenly you pull your hand away and Alexia looks at you with tears of frustration in her eyes. You don't pay her any mind as you continue driving. From the corner of your eyes you see Alexia moving one of her hands to rub her cunt through the layers of fabric.

"Move. Your. Hand."

Alexia gasps and you don't know if it's because of your assertive tone or how her hand grazed her clit. Alexia knows you only use that tone when you plan on being rough.

"I won't say it again Alexia."

She moves her hand away as if she's been burned and grips the seat tightly. By the time you're pulling in the drive way Alexia is panting like she's just played a full 90 minute match. You chucke at her eagerness and the way she almost run out of the car to open the front door.

You entered the house slowly, not bothering to keep up with Alexia's eagerness. You walked up the stairs to the bedroom and you were immediately pulled to the bed by Alexia. She was already naked, her nipples perked and her pussy soaked when she climbed on top of you.

"You're going from bad to worse today baby." You slowly start trailing your hands up her body while you talk, relishing in the way she shivers when the tips of your fingers graze her ribs.

"First you drag me away to fuck you in a crouded stadium and then" you pull on a tight nipple and Alexia yelps in surprise "we almost get caught."

She tries to grind down on you to get some friction but you grip her waist and keep her steady where she is. "And now you're not even waiting for my orders, jumping on me like a fucking slut."

Alexia is looking down at her thighs with flushed cheeks. You slap her ass hard making the captain jolt and moan loudly. Alexia finally looks at you with unshead tears glossing her eyes as you roughly play with the soft fless of her ass. She starts rubbing her thighs together desperate for any kind of friction.

When one of your hands drops a little lower and lightly teases the tight ring of her asshole Alexia whines and drops her weight forward. You kept moving your hands careful not to give her what she wants just yet, instead you focus on her sweet pants and moans echoing right next to your ear.

"Y/N..."

You grin when you hear Alexia call for you desperately but you didn't change the way your hands moved. You kept kneeding away at her plump ass and you moved your head so you can suck bruises on her neck. Alexia was dripping wet and pathetically pleading you to touch her but you were busy trying to mark every inch of her beautiful taned skin.

"I'm sorry. Y/N, I'm sorry, I-I promise I won't do it again. Please just fuck me!"

You hummed low in your throat and moved closer to her ear. You bite her ear lobe and she whimpers making you slyly smirk.

"You want to get fucked, is that right you whore?"

Alexia sobbed at your words and nodded quickly.

"Please! I want your mouth, your fingers, anything!"

Suddenly you lifted her off you and pushed her down on the bed. Alexia watched with hungry eyes as you moved to your closet to grab your favourite strap on. She resisted the urge to touch herself while she watched you put the harness on. You confidently walked to the bed and Alexia gulped, looking up to meet your hard stare.

"Turn around, ass up."

Alexia does as you told her, as quickly as humanly possible. You take in a sharp breath when she raises her ass and you finally see her dripping pussy, her hole clenching around nothing and her clit throbbing. You drag the fake cock along her slit, gathering as much of her juices as you can before playfully bumping her clit with the head of the strap on. Alexia's knees almost give out at the sudden contact and you chuckle quietly at her pathetic state. Without wasting any more time you push the head against her hole and watch as Alexia greedily sucks you in deeper. The captain drops her head on the mattress as she tries fo muffle her loud cries of pleasure.

You thread a hand through her hair and pull back roughly against the blonde locks raising Alexia's head.

"Don't try to be quiet, we both know that's a lost cause, you're too much of a slut to keep your mouth shut."

Alexia whimpers at your words. You decide you've waited enough so in one rough thrust you push the sntire length inside her. Alexia moans loudly, her back arching and pushing her ass further into your hips. You didn't give Alexia any time to recover before you started pounding roughly into her, your hand gripping her waist so hard it will certainly bruise. Alexia is crying out every time you hit her sweet spot her thighs shaking and hands gripping the sheets tightly. Your hand leaves her hair and spanks her ass and Alexia's knees give out from the blinding pleasure. You grip her thighs and use them as leverage to fuck Alexia into the mattress.

"Fuck, I'm close!"

You grin widely and bring your hand under Alexia's body to rub at her clit and the captain screams in pleasure. Soon her thighs shake violently and Alexia is left panting on the bed but you don't stop the brutal pace you've set up. Alexia whines softly and tries to move further up the bed to avoid the overwhelming pleasure but she fails because your strong hand is still holding her in place.

"What, I thought you wanted to get fucked."

Alexia whimpers and shakes her head as a second orgasm approaches.

"S' too much. Y/N... please I can't."

Instead of paying Alexia any mind you put one of your legs up on the bed and use the new position to fuck into her with more strength. One of your hands comes down on her ass again and soon Alexia is shaking from the blinding pleasure.

"Oh so now you can't, huh? A few minutes ago you were willing to let the whole team fuck you."

Alexia whines at the reminder of just how much she wanted you to fuck her but she doesn't have time to dwell on it because she's coming a second time and she sees white.

When Alexia opens her eyes she's lying next to you on the bed all fresh and clean while you're rubbing soft circles on her back. Alexia goes to move but she's so sore she winced in pain. You smile and place a soft kiss on her head.

"I always keep my promises don't I, love?"

___________________________________________

#wlw #female reader #smut #bottom character #dom reader #sub character #top reader #woso #woso imagine #woso smut #woso fanfics #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 5 months

Note

How do you think Lucifer would go about being intimate with a plus size reader who is very insecure and self conscious about their body?

ANON I'M KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH

Because listen, I've always been very open about being a plus size gal. And sometimes it's hard to picture myself in the stuff I write because of it. But I still do it because I enjoy it and I'm not going to let my fears and doubts keep me from creating!

And I'm just gonna come right out and say it now

LUCIFER LOVES BIG GIRLS!!!!

When you cuddle, you almost completely envelop him. He feels so safe and secure in your arms. And oh my goodness, he adores how soft you are! Everything from your chest to your stomach to your thighs, he will use all of those spots as his personal favorite pillows to lay his head.

And of course your weight is no issue for him! He has God-like strength, you might as well weigh as much as a feather! He's practically BEGGING you to ride his face and bounce on his cock. He loves kneading at your breasts and the folds on your stomach because there is just so much of you to touch, he can't get enough of it! And oh man, don't get me started on how much he loves delving between your thick thighs. He now knows what TRUE Heaven is like! He grips your legs tight when he thrusts his tongue in and out of you, sucking on your clit and absolutely drunk on the way way you taste!

And like I said, him watching you bounce on his cock is mesmerizing. He can't get enough of the way your body moves when you shift your hips, it's almost hypnotizing. And when he's on top, he wishes he could have more hands so he could touch and grab every inch of you while he fucks you good and deep.

It did take you a while to get to this point though. You confided in him that when you were alive, you felt insecure about the way you looked. And even in death, you still were. But good Lord, Lucifer couldn't believe that "a beautiful creature like you would ever think of yourself as unattractive." And that "anyone who said otherwise deserves far worse than a place in Hell." He is your number one supporter and cheerleader. He's going to tell you how lovely you look every single day, multiple times a day until you believe it yourself. And then he'll keep on telling you because he absolutely adores you and your body!

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis enjoy the food bestie <3

#ask #anon #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer smut #i may be projecting but idc #lucifer loves big girls pass it on

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a-aexotic · 2 years

Note

could you do a rafe imagine where reader is a pouge and she’s working at the country club as a server or as a bust gal and kelce says something about her but rafe secretly likes the reader and he defends her and gets pissed at his friends for talking bad about her or saying something degrading or ojectifyinfg about her and then the reader finds out rafe defended her from topper ?? Bc topper is secretly kind (apart from the fire tbh) and reader confronts rafe about why he defended her

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. sooo much fluff, degrading language towards women, a fight (kinda), out of character top/rafe, lmk if i missed anything!

summary. rafe has a crush on you and topper makes it his top priority to get you two together after you confess your feelings, too.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

You were exhausted at this time of day and you just wanted to go home and rest. Your eyes were heavy and your feet hurt from these stupid heels the club makes you wear. You had one last table before you could clock out; you could already feel the warm bath you were going to draw tonight.

Until you saw who you were serving; Kook royalty themselves. Rafe, Topper, Kelce and a few guys you don't recall the names of. You prepared yourself for the longest hour serving these boys.

You walked up to them, a big smile on your lips. If you were going to serve some snotty Kooks you might as well get a good tip. "Hey, um. I'm Y/N, and I'm your waiter for tonight. Can I get you started with any drinks?"

You handed out the menus and you could already feel their stares at your body and face, making you feel a tiny bit self conscious. In the corner of your eye you saw Kelce turn to one of the boys to whisper something and he immediately turned red before letting out a chuckle.

You saw Topper and Rafe make eye contact before Rafe rolled his eyes, making Topper sigh.

"Sure, for me, I don't know about the others though." Topper nodded politely as you smiled.

"Yeah, I'm super thirsty." One of the boys had commented as the whole table (minus Topper and Rafe) erupted in laughter. You were disgusted and honestly disappointed, I mean, how low could these jerks get?

Rafe cleared his throat and the whole table became quiet once again. "Me and Top are going to get some Old-Fashion's. I don't know about the others."

"Make that three more." Kelce added and you nodded politely, jotting it down quickly on the notepad.

"Okay, I will be right back with your drinks. Take a look at the menus, alright?" You walked away with another big smile and as you turned, it immediately dropped.

You didn't necessarily hate Kooks; well, not to the extent of JJ or Pope. You could honestly stand them; sure, they made you uncomfortably sometimes but at least at the end of it, you have a good tip.

"Take a look at those menus, more like take a look at that ass!" The boy had said and Kelce and other one let out another laugh. Rafe couldn't stand it.

The jokes weren't funny and were low blows, they were some of the worst jokes he'd heard in months. It was stupid. Rafe held in all his anger because he didn't want to cause a scene, especially here or in front of you.

He's been trying to make a move on you for months; giving extra tips, complimenting you, asking if you could help with the golf cart. And now all his hard was going down the drain because you're going to think he's shallow and idiotic because of his 'friends.'

The only person he actually liked right now was Topper and that's saying a lot. He felt bad for you as well. Rafe didn't really feel empathetic towards anyone but seeing you put on a fake smile and nod off the joke like it was nothing reminded him of someone.

"God what I would do to take her to bed." One of the boys sighed as the others agreed. Rafe bit his tongue as they continued.

"I'm sure she would," Kelce took a drink of his water. "If you tipped her enough."

"You're right, she's a Pogue. I'm sure she needs the money."

Rafe was disgusted. Is this really what they thought about? "Shut the fuck up, dude. That's not funny."

The table went quiet as the guy turned to Rafe. "What the fuck is your problem man, you've been in a bitch mood ever since we came in here. I mean, come on, it's a fucking joke."

"A joke? You call that a fucking joke?" Rafe started raising his voice. "You're the fucking joke here, dude. Who the fuck says that shit? Especially while she's literally over there."

Topper nodded. "Yeah, have some decency. Y/N's actually so sweet."

The two boys looked at each other before laughing. "Oh I see what's goin on here. You two are acting like you're all above this, above us, so she can see how gentleman-ly you are and let you tag team her, huh?"

"Not everything is about sex, dude. Maybe we actually think she's nice and a human being that deserves a little respect. She's, y'know, a living breathing human with thoughts in case you've forgot." Rafe was seeing red and he was about to throw a punch before Topper kicked his leg.

"What, dude? It's true." Rafe looked at Topper before he sighed.

"Let's just finish the drinks and then we can go, alright?" Topper was trying to calm things down and Rafe took a deep breath before nodding.

You had come back with all the drinks on a platter. You felt the shift in energy, it was a lot more tense now than it was. "Alright, have you guys figured out what you guys wanted to eat?"

You passed out the drinks.

"That would be it, can you uh, get the check please?" Rafe's voice was much softer and politer than usual and you nodded. You appreciated the manners; you don't see a lot of that in the country club.

"Okay, sure. I will be right back with the check." You smiled at him and his cheeks turned a little red as he turned away. Topper noticed this and was a little confused.

Rafe had never mentioned liking you in anyway. He was now wondering if he had just started liking you or if this was something that's been happening for a while now.

"Okay, Kelce, how much would you pay me if I went up to her and asked her out on a date?"

"Nothing, dude. You'll be getting the award, why would I have to pay?" Kelce responded, drinking a little of his drink.

Rafe flared his nostrils as he kept in his anger once again. He didn't want to blow up again, people were already staring.

"Dude, you won't do it." The other guy laughed. "You're a fuckin pussy."

"There's no way she'll say yes." Kelce added.

The other guy rolled his eyes, "How much do you wanna bet?"

Kelce laughed, "100$ easy, dude."

He laughed, "Okay, I'll be a 100$ richer."

"You're definitely going to lose that 100, man."

You came back and put the check down with a small smile. "Is that all boys?"

"Yes." Rafe quickly said, taking the check and putting his card in. The others exchanged looks. Before you could away, the boy had started to say something.

"Y/N, right?" He looked at your nametag then to your low V-cut shirt before looking back at your face. "I was wondering if you could let me take you out later this week, maybe... Saturday? I'm havin a big party, I'd just love for you to come."

Rafe was angry he felt like his eyes were going to bulge out of his eyelids as he stared daggers at the guy.

You stood there, a bit shocked. There were a few seconds before you could respond. "I would love to. But uh, I'm already dating someone."

"Really?" Topper looked confused, you'd never mentioned one. You glared down at him before smiling and nodding. Rafe felt like his world had come crashing down. You had a boyfriend?

"Yup, JJ. Two months!" You said dramatically. "Sorry... About that."

The guy looked pissed, turning away from you. "You weren't even that pretty anyway." He muttered.

Your eyes widened and immediately took that as your que to leave, walking away. "Okay.."

Rafe quickly got up after you, taking out his wallet and taking out a 20$, handing it to you.

Your eyes had widened at how much he was tipping. "Whoa, are you sure?"

"Very. My friends were douches to you and I apologize. I don't even know the other two dudes' names."

You laughed, the first real genuine laugh you've had all day. It was a like breathe of fresh air. "Me neither, but I can't take this, that's so much." You pushed away the money.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can." He put it in the pocket in your shirt before sighing. "Enjoy the rest of your night."

He walked away to the rest of his friends and you smiled at the nice gesture. Rafe, despite the opinion of your friends, was actually kinda sweet. I mean, he was sure as hell better than the rest of his friends (minus Topper).

"Dude, that took you long enough." You heard one of them groan.

"Shut up." You heard Rafe reply as you smiled to yourself. You immediately shook away the smile, sighing. Why was the Kook prince making you smile? Wow, you were in desperate need of a bath and a good meal, 8 hour shifts aren't your strong suit.

You were surprised and confused at Topper's words.

"Yeah, he was like, genuinely pissed. I've never seen him that mad and that's saying a lot."

Your eyebrows were furrowed, "Wait, wait. So he defended me?"

Topper looked at you like it was the most obvious thing of all. "That's what I've been saying for the last half an hour, have you been listening?"

You rolled your eyes at Topper's unnecessary sassiness, "Yes, Top, it's just been really hard to process."

"What's hard about it? Rafe has literally never had a soft spot for anyone except Wheeizie, like ever. And he's rich. He can spoil you and you're literally set for life-"

"Whoa, okay." You started laughing. "Let's not go that far. I am not marrying Rafe Cameron." ok girl...

"Okay but think about it." He smiled. "We could be like kinda related. If Sarah marries me... or if Rafe considers me a best friend, I could be like your brother-in-law."

You started laughing harder, "Sarah's not marrying you."

He didn't look too amused by that. "Okay, shut up, seriously. Rafe likes you."

The more you imagined his face and his smile, his dad outfits and the way he literally is an asshole to everyone except you, the more hot your face felt.

Topper smiled as he playfully pushed your shoulder making you laugh. "He's cute."

"Cute? Don't call say that to his face, he'll get all flustered and then roll his eyes."

You already imagine his face, making you laugh a little harder. "Okay, okay. If... if I were to like him back, how would I approach him?"

Topper sighed, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Okay, uh. Maybe just talk to him and flirt before he asks you out."

"That's so obvious-"

"He tipped you a 20 last night and you're worried you're making it obvious? Are you serious?"

You rolled your eyes. You reminded yourself to talk to Topper about his attitude problem later because it's getting a bit much. "Okay. Fine. I will."

Other than being a waitress at the country club, some days they put you on the Beverage Cart duty. It was probably because they were short in staff that day but honestly you didn't mind. You'd rather be out on the golf course then cooped up in the restaurant. You also get double the tips than you would inside.

Plus, you had a cute golf outfit on with the cute visor; you felt like a true Kook.

As you were going around, selling drinks, you saw Topper and Rafe. Of course they were going to the club today; it was nice Saturday afternoon. You face palmed yourself. You already knew what Topper was going to do.

Topper saw you as well, a smirk forming on his lips. "Rafe, uh. Remember Y/N?"

Rafe felt himself blush at the mention of you. He shook it off, nodding. "Uh, yeah. Doesn't she work here?"

"Yep. Also, I was uh, talkin to her the other day and she called you cute."

Rafe's mouth flew open as he whipped his head towards Topper. "What?"

Topper smiled. "Yeah, she called you cute. Like, really cute. She was blushing and shit."

Rafe smiled and he didn't even feel it. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah, dude. And, oh! Speaking of the devil, there she is."

Rafe's eyes widened as he looked over at you and shook his head. "Oh, uh."

"I know you like her, man." Topper added as he looked to Rafe.

He shook his head. "No, I don't like her. I think she's cute."

Topper rolled his eyes. "And you blush around you, you stumble over your words, you tip her real good. You were practically on the floor kicking your feet in the air and blushing when I told you she said you were cute."

Rafe frowned at Topper's wording and before he could protest, he started pushing Rafe towards the cart. "Dude, hold on."

"Ask her out, man."

"Not now, dude, I've been plotting for months now, I can't just-"

"Dude, do you trust me?" Topper stopped and looked dead in the eyes.

"No." Rafe stated before Topper rolled his eyes for what seemed to be the fifty-th time that day.

"I don't care, now come on." He pushed Rafe towards the cart before grabbing the back of his collar, making him walk towards you. If this was any other situation, Rafe would've landed a punch to Top's jaw but he didn't wanna scare you off, so he kept his cool.

You stared the two as they approached the cart. They seemed too... normal. They were both smiling and you felt like they were plotting. You know for a fact that Topper is.

"Hey."

"Hi." They both said in union, making Rafe look back at Topper, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What can I get you two?" There was unnecessary awkwardness between the three of you as they both looked at each other.

"Two... sodas."

"Sodas?" You looked assumed. Were they 12?

Topper looked back at you. "Yes."

As you reached for the cooler, you heard Topper make an 'O' sound. You turned around.

"Oh shit. I forgot my wallet, I will be right back. Rafe, you stay here and get us the sodas, alright?"

Rafe looked back with his teeth gritted, a warning to Topper. "Topper."

He shrugged. "I'll be right back." He jogged away as you and Rafe made eye contact.

You knew that he knew what you had told Topper. And then, Rafe realized the same thing. He didn't know what Topper had told you but he just hopes it wasn't too embarrassing.

"Um. I never asked but um, what sodas do you want?"

"Ginger ale. I'm pretty Topper wants something girly like Diet Coke or something like that." Rafe mumbled the last part but you heard it. You let a horrendously loud laugh because you knew Topper would get a Diet Coke.

You suddenly felt embarrassed but it melted as you heard Rafe's small laugh as well. Butterflies filled your stomach as you heard him.

"Okay, then. One ginger ale and uh... a Diet Coke." You laughed a little after, making Rafe smile.

As you handed him the Ginger Ale, your hands touched and you felt like your face was on fire. You quickly pulled away.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe started. "Did Topper say anything about me?"

"In what way?"

"Um, I don't know... something involving you?" Rafe inquired as you smiled.

"Did he say anything to you about me?"

"Maybe." He dragged out the 'e' sound as you rolled your eyes at him playfully.

"Topper may have mentioned a few things about you. But they weren't bad. They were actually a little... admiring to hear."

He went red as he looked down at his feet. "Topper just loves to run his mouth."

You nodded in agreement. "Yeah. He definitely loves to gossip."

He laughed at your wording. "He said some stuff about you, too. It was... admiring, too."

Your cheeks had begun to hurt from smiling this hard and it'd been only a couple minutes.

"Okay." Rafe sighed. "Are we talking about the same thing-"

"Yes, we are. I think."

Rafe was going to have to push all his pride and ego just this time. "I think that you're really pretty... and if you're not with JJ, I'd love to take you out on a date."

You had forget he heard that part. "I'm not with JJ."

"Okay, then what do you say?"

"Yes, Rafe." You smiled at him and he swore his heart did a little flip at the sound of that.

"Okay," he sounded breathless.

You then turned in your cart, looking for a piece of paper and your pen. You found one and then wrote down your number. You turned back and handed it to him. "Text me and then we can sort out the details, okay?"

"Yeah, for sure."

Topper finally walked back, wallet in hand, a big grin on his tanned face. He looked down at the paper in his hand and gave Rafe a proud pat on the back.

"Here's your Diet Coke," you held in your laugh as you gave the drink to Topper. Rafe smiled back at you as Topper opened it quickly and took a big gulp.

"Thank you. I knew you'd know my favorite drink, Y/N." He took out a 5 dollar bill and gave it to you before winking and you felt yourself cringe at Topper as you took the 5.

He and Rafe walked away and you stood there, your heart beating fast as you watched them walk away.

"What'd I say? Trust me, Rafe, I promise it'll work out and look, it worked out!"

"Yeah, for once, dude."

"Oh, shut up."

You heard their argument and laughed to yourself, getting back into your cart to drive to the next course.

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 8 months

Text

Dustin skidded into Eddie's hospital room, where Robin and Steve were both sitting with him. He still hadn't woken up since he broke free from Vecna's mind control and saved the entire town.

"Max is awake!" Dustin exclaimed.

"What?!" Steve and Robin exclaimed, jumping out of their seats.

"And guess how she was woken up?!" Dustin asked and waved himself away, unable to wait for their answers. "Lucas was all sad and crying because the doctors wanted to shut life support down, so he gave Max a kiss. . .that's when she woke up! Of course, she immediately scolded Lucas for making a move on her while she's asleep, but that's Max. Steve, I need you to kiss Eddie."

"What?!" Steve shrieked. "Why me?"

"Because out of all us, you're the one who looks more like the prince from Snow White," Dustin said, as if they explained everything.

"Oh my God! That's why you looked so familiar! All this time!" Robin exclaimed with wide eyes. "And Eddie does kind of look like Snow White. . . The boy is right. You have to kiss him. We have to know if Eddie is a Disney princess."

"Yeah, because that sounds logical," Steve said dryly.

"I did see a bunch of crows try to follow him into school one day," Dustin said.

"Hmm. Do you have photographic evidence?" Robin asked.

"No."

"I'm not kissing him!" Steve exclaimed.

"It's just a friendly kiss between two friends, Steve," Robin rolled her eyes.

Dustin noticed the way his eyes moved towards Eddie's and the way his cheeks turned slightly pink. . .the way he fidgeted. Oh.

"You know what, you don't have to do it, buddy. We're just messing with you," Dustin said. "We're not going to force you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. We can try other things to wake him up. It was just a silly thought."

"Wow, how manipulative of you," Steve said with his hands on his hips. "Fine, I'll do it."

"I wasn't - "

"I said that I would do it," Steve said, and then he went soft. "Anything to wake up the Hero of Hawkins, right?"

They watched him move closer to the bed and he looked at them for a moment.

"Do you want us to leave?" Robin asked, and Steve shook his head.

Steve sucked in a breath and exhaled. He bent down so that he was level with Eddie's face.

"Alright, I don't know if you can hear this, but I hope this is alright that I do this. We kind of want you around, man. Honestly, if it helps you to wake up, then I'm willing to try anything," Steve said.

Steve moved closer, and for a moment, he thought he saw a smirk grace Eddie's lips. It was gone, though, as soon as he cleared his throat. Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's, appreciating how soft and plump they were. God, they were so soft and nice against his own. He could feel his heart rate increase. He went to pull back, but suddenly, a hand slid into his hair and pulled him back into the kiss. Eddie was wake and kissing him. Steve gasped, causing his mouth to open slightly, giving Eddie the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Steve’s eyes fluttered close, and he deepened the kiss, letting his own tongue dance with Eddie's. Suddenly, he felt Eddie grab him by his hips and pull him directly on top of him. Eddie grasped his thighs, maneuvering so that way he was straddling him. Steve broke the kiss, looking down on him in surprise.

"Hey," Eddie grinned wickedly.

"Hey."

"So, that was something," Eddie said and paused. "By the way, it's more than okay that you kissed me."

"I knew you were awake," Steve muttered as Eddie began caressing his thighs. "I didn't expect this."

He turned his head, suddenly remembering Dustin and Robin, but there was no one else in the room. He turned back to Eddie.

"I didn't expect this either," Eddie said. "It's a nice surprise."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Eddie said. "You know, while you're up there, you could rip off that shirt and show me those tits again."

Steve laughed, smacking his chest playfully.

"What kind of gal do you take me for?" Steve asked.

"The kind of gal who rips of their sweater and throws it at a guy," Eddie cackled.

"Oh, yeah. I did do that," Steve said, biting his lip and blushing.

He stared at Eddie for a moment, as if deciding something. He grabbed the back of his shirt, and with one quick motion, he pulled it off. He tossed it somewhere in the room. Eddie looked at him with dark eyes and began moving his hands upward. His hands moved over his scars, and he gently caressed them for a moment before moving his them again. Eddie's hands landed on his chest, and he rubbed his thumbs over Steve’s nipples causing him to shudder before placing his palms over them. Eddie squeezed. With his hands still cupping Steve’s chest, the door opened, and Wayne Munson walked in. All three of them froze.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," Eddie said cheerfully.

"Eddie."

"You know, if this is the kind of service that hospitals provide, then I'll gladly move in," Eddie said.

"You act like I don't know who Steve is when he's the one who carried you here and never left your bedside," Wayne said.

"Aww, Stevie."

"I'm going to go now. Not because I'm prejudiced but because I want to continue to look at you like you're still that curly haired bug eyed baby who couldn't say spaghetti," Wayne said. "I'm glad it worked out for you, Steve. I'll be heading out now."

Wayne quickly left after he said all of that. Steve turned to look at him and Eddie scowled.

"What? It's a hard word," Eddie said defensively.

"You still can't say it, can you?" Steve asked.

"I'll say it however I want to," Eddie said. "They're all just made-up words anyhow."

Steve laughed. He moved until he was lying down next to Eddie and was curled up against him. He squeezed him.

"You're so cute," Steve said fondly.

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for waking me up."

"Anytime."

". . .My sweet prince. . ."

And so, with a sigh, Steve closed his eyes, and this time, it was his turn to sleep because for the first time in a while, it felt like he could.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #dustin henderson #henderdads #henderfam #robin buckley #lesbian robin buckley #robin & steve #platonic stobin #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes

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trippinsorrows · 3 months

Text

with me + part thirteen

authors note: this one is super long, ya'll! i don't necessarily like how long it is, but i couldn't cut it in half because there was no good cutoff point. so, i apologize to the readers with short attention spans! also, the very last part is not known to the characters, it's just context for what's happening....

this chapter takes place on February 2nd, 2024. yes, i'm aligning it with the real life dates of smackdown shows lol.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, smut, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 10k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

You’d forgotten how uncomfortable flights are and how much they irk you.

It's mostly the not being in control that bothers you. You can admit as much. On the jet wasn’t as difficult because you had Joe, and while Alexis is a nice companion, she’s not your man. No one can make you feel as safe and calm as he does.

However, there's some peace in seeing how well Callie is doing on her first flight. Your undercover social butterfly of a child has made friends with the flight crew who have taken her under their wing, allowing her to be a pretend flight attendant for the short flight.

So her spending time with the flight crew allows you and Alexis time to talk, cause why not distract yourself with a heavy ass conversation while 30,000 feet up in the air?

Alexis takes a sip of her wine, included with the first class tickets she purchased for the three of you. “Just let me know when you get back to the hotel tonight. I’ll watch Cal Gal for ya’ll.”

Confused, you ask, “why would we need you to watch her?”

She answers so casually, “so y'll can fuck. Duh.”

You sigh…..of course. “Alexis, this trip is not for that. We’re here so Callie can spend time with her daddy.” And that’s the truth. You’re most excited to see Callie’s happiness at being reunited with her dad.

“He’s your daddy too,” she wiggles her brows, and you look away. This heifer is way too much sometimes. “All I’m saying is it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Too long. “I’m not saying I don’t want to. It’s just not a priority, and I’m still not on birth control.” It hasn’t been very high on your to-do list, especially with him being gone as long as he has. But also….there’s a small part of you that doesn’t want to get on it, and it’s not because of any health concerns.

“Tell him to pull out,” she suggests with a shrug, but your face must give it away. “Oh my god, he doesn’t want to, does he?”

Having this conversation on a plane, or at all, probably isn’t the best idea, but it’s something you’ve been thinking about since the night of your date. Even more as you grew closer to being reunited with him. “When we had sex that night, he asked me if I was on birth control.”

“Like, after?”

“No, like as he was literally blowing my back out.”

“Damn,” she mutters. If you know Alexis like you think you do, the ‘damn’ is also because she’s mentally conjuring that image. Freaky ass. Shaking her head, she then asks, “and you told him no, right?”

“Of course, but you know what he said in response?” Blowing out a deep breath, your head falls back against the headrest. “He said good, Alexis.”

Her mouth drops open, and you move to slap your palm over her lips. “Remember, we are on a plane, and my daughter is somewhere in the vicinity.”

This seems to help. A little. Removing your hand, she harshly whispers, “he’s trying to get you pregnant again!”

“I don’t think it’s that,” you answer honestly. “I think—I think it’s more if it happens, he wouldn’t be opposed.” And you believe that. You know Joe. He’s many things, and assertive is near the top of that list. He would straight up tell you if he wanted to get you pregnant…..you think.

She studies you, always so damn perceptive and knowing. “You feel the same way too, don’t you?”

“I don’t—” You can’t finish your sentence, because she’s not entirely wrong. It makes no logical sense for you to even be having this conversation, let alone thinking about this. Having a baby right now is one of the dumbest things you could do. You’re having a hard enough time as it is just finding gaps for Joe to spend time with the child you already have.

But.

There’s also this side of you that sees where this is headed. You know that your future is with this man. There’s no outcome you can figure where you two don’t end up together, and Alexis wasn’t wrong before she’d asked/reminded you that you want more kids. You want more kids with him. Want to give Callie a sibling.

Just….not right now.

You can’t even find it in you to tell this man you love him, but you want him to give you another baby? It doesn’t add up.

There’s a part of you that wonders if it comes from a place of fear.

For so long, you dreamed and wished for this to happen, for you to be with Joe, to have a future with him. It kept you up at night the fact that it would never be a possibility, but still, you dreamed. And now that all of it is happening, you wonder if there’s fear it could all go away so you’re trying to make the best of it.

Even though, deep down, you know there’s no reality where Joe could be away from Callie. You? Yes, maybe. Though slim to none. But while he loves you, Callie is his soul. He’d burn the whole world down if that’s what it took to be with her.

And that means he’ll always, to some extent, be in your life.

“Maybe.” Is the much shorter versioned answer you settle for. “So, for now, no sex until I figure this out.” Even saying it aloud, you’re not sure you entirely believe it. It’s a nice plan, but plans often change.

Especially when they involve Joe.

Alexis groans. “I love you, babes, but sometimes you’re so damn exhausting. There’s literally nothing to figure out. That man would marry you tomorrow if he could. You just gotta let go of the past, enjoy the present, and work towards the future.” She then adds, “then again, you said the same thing last time about no sex, and that man still fucked you six different ways from Sunday, so who knows.”

As much as you want to protest, you can’t. Your resolve when it comes to Joe, in almost all areas, is embarrassingly weak.

________

Being backstage is such a blast from the past, so reminiscent of so many years back when you and Mariah were just stoked at the possibility of meeting Cena, unaware of how that one night would change the trajectory of your entire life.

There’s a small part of you saddened at how things have changed so much with Mariah, but that’s an issue for another day. Your focus is on the here and now.

Similarly, Callie seems just as intrigued, but for different reasons. She keeps her hand in yours but her eyes scan around, growing hopeful with each turn of the corner that she’ll be met with the one thing she’s looking for. Or, rather, who she’s looking for.

Alexis somehow arranged a private tour backstage, thus “ditching” you as soon as ya’ll arrived to the arena. However, you also know she believes this is a “personal thing" and doesn’t want to “invade.” You tried to tell her that she was more than welcome, but she wasn’t hearing it. You’re so grateful for all of her support. It means so much to you.

One of the security guards flanking you and Callie tries to make small conversation, and you’re partially grateful but mostly annoyed. Your anxiety is already on the higher end than you’d like it to be, especially when all you wanted was to remain calm and collected for Callie’s sake. But having someone blabber about something you have no interest in doesn’t do much to help that.

Too bad it’s not a distraction, though, because you’re starting to second guess your decision. It’s a bold move not only coming to Joe's “job,” but bringing Callie too. Not that he’d ever complain or be upset at getting to see her, but not making him aware ahead of time is suddenly seeming like not the best idea. No matter what Jon says.

You know you ultimately had to keep him in the dark, because he’d ask questions as to why, not from suspicion but just natural curiosity. And you don’t want to lie to him. You need to talk to him about Callie, but you want to do so in person. That’s not a phone or even Facetime kind of conversation.

What if he isn’t ready for you to go “public”? To make Callie’s existence “public”? Sure, you have zero expectation of him letting ya’ll leave backstage, thus making it easy to hide out from cameras, but still, this is his workplace. He deserves some privacy.

So deep in your head and thoughts, you miss when you turn the final, lucky corner, only to realize when Callie gasps loudly, “daddy!”

She rips her hand from yours, and you briefly panic when she starts running away only to see who she’s running to.

Joe’s standing there among who you’d guess are WWE execs, clearly in the midst of conversation, when his head snaps in your direction. His eyes immediately land on Callie. He’s briefly confused, but a big smile replaces that confusion as he reaches down to catch Callie. She throws her little body against his, and you watch him stand up with her still in his arms, kissing her cheek and hugging her closely.

You walk over to them, offering a small, apologetic smile to the people now watching with slight puzzlement.

“Callie Bear,” he murmurs, mouth pressed to the top of her head. Your anxiety is already lessening. There’s not an ounce of anger or irritation painted in his handsome features, only an immense amount of appreciation and satisfaction at seeing his little girl.

“Surprise!” She shouts, smiling broadly. “Mommy said we could come see you since you can’t come see us!”

“And I’m glad you did,” he murmurs. “I missed you, baby girl.” She lays her head against his chest, obviously having missed him just as much. His eyes then land on you as you finally reach the duo. Your smile is small, even as he reaches and pulls you against his free side, stealing a quick kiss. “I missed you too, mama.”

His words do something so warm and fuzzy to your insides. “We figured if you couldn’t make it to us, we’d come to you.” Relief is so heavy over you. You’re pretty sure you’ve just given Joe one of the best surprises he could ever receive. You look over at the people still awkwardly standing by and then to him. “I’m sorry, did she interr—”

“No.” He seems almost insulted that you would even ask such a thing. He directs to them, “later.”

Without protest, they disperse, walking away. It’s so interesting seeing how much he’s grown since you first met him. Back then he was young, still trying to prove himself. Now he’s the literal face of the company. It starts and ends with him.

“I was on a plane!” Callie informs with that award winning smile. “I’ve never been on a plane before!”

“You haven’t?” It’s difficult to tell if he’s feigning surprise for the sake of engaging her on her level or genuinely can’t believe she’s never flown before. “Were you scared?”

She shakes her head. “It was lotsa fun!”

Joe chuckles and kisses her cheek. “That’s my brave girl.”

She giggles as he tickles her stomach. “I saw clouds! Ooh and birdies! And the nice flight lady gave me cookies cause she said I was a good girl!” As Callie starts to ramble and catch Joe up on a second by second play of the plane ride, he gives you a pat on the hip and directs you to walk with him. His arm around your waist, the other holding up Callie, you can’t deny how natural this feels, the three of you.

Joe takes you to his locker room which is as nice as you would expect it to be for the guy in WWE. You take your seat in the single chair, allowing Callie and Joe to take the sofa even though she’s barely next to him for five minutes before climbing into his lap and pulling out her tablet to show him what she’s made in some of her apps.

You pull your phone out and see that you have a few unread texts, the one from Alexis making you laugh aloud.

Alexis: Would you still love me if I fucked Logan Paul?

Shaking your head, you type out a response.

You: yes. just a little less.

Alexis: It’s just an appetizer. I plan to leave with the number of someone from that damn Bloodline tonight. Tell BDJ to hook me up.

You: would you please stop calling him that? 😭

Alexis: I’ll stop when it stops being true 🤷🏽‍♀️

You: you’re a menace.

Alexis: Stop texting me and focus on your man.

You: he’s in callie world right now, which is exactly where he should be. i keep telling you this trip was for her.

Alexis: It can be for you too if you stop being stupid and start by telling him, I don’t know, THAT YOU LOVE HIM.

You: goodbye, alexis 🙄

Alexis: I’m about to fuck this white boy anyway, but you know I’m right!!!

Alexis: I hope he doesn’t have fleas.

It takes everything in you not to scream. This girl is really crazy. Switching threads, you text your mom.

You: we made it here. she’s so happy. 🥺 he is too. i’m glad i took her.

Opening up the camera app, you sneak and snap a photo of the two of them. Reviewing it makes your heart swell. Callie is clearly deep in explanation while Joe holds her, partially following her discussion but mostly just enraptured in having her with him.

You send the photo to your mom who responds almost immediately.

Mom: Awww. I’m glad you did too. Enjoy yourself, baby. Take lots of pictures. ♥️

“Oooh!” Callie’s semi-loud exclamation pulls you away from the text thread. “Look what mommy got me!” Callie hops off Joe’s lap and spins around, moving her hair to the side to show off the back of her hoodie.

Naturally, you move your eyes to Joe, watching closely and carefully as he travels through a variety of emotions: shock, happiness, love. He’s clearly moved. A warm smile sets on your face. “I love it, baby.” He finally speaks, the emotion undeniable in his voice. Joe’s gaze sets on you, and you don’t need him to say anything to know what he’s thinking.

Mouthing ‘you’re welcome’, you settle back into the sofa, watching as Callie returns to her spot in his lap to finish catching him up on all the things he’s missed in his long absence.

You occupy yourself on your phone, catching up on some work emails and parent messages because it doesn’t seem to matter how many different ways you make them aware of an absence, they’re still going to message you like you didn’t let them know you’d be out of office for the next few days.

Sometimes you can’t tell much of a difference between your students and their parents. They’re both equally out of touch.

At some point, Callie moves to the middle of the floor to empty out her backpack that you still don’t know just how she managed to pack as much as she did in. She seemed hellbent on bringing all of these items, mostly artsy things, to share with Joe. And you didn’t want to stop her, so you let it be.

However, you end up catching Joe’s eye, and he motions you to come over to him. But, being the brat you are, you take your time doing so. And of course, because everything about this man is large, it’s nothing for him to reach his long arms out to tug you in front of him. His hands are on your hips, and you can tell he’s trying to keep the placement appropriate for the sake of Callie.

“You’re quiet,” he observes, discerning you.

Shugging, you answer honestly, “I want you to have your time with Callie. She’s really missed you.” One thing you’re most definitely not looking forward to is the discussion regarding the real reason for this surprise trip. You already know it’s going to make Joe feel awful, and that’s not the goal. You just don’t want to keep anything else from him as it pertains to Callie. He doesn’t deserve that.

“And what about you?” He asks, suddenly, “Did you miss me?”

Chuckling, you brush your fingers against his soft hair, pulled back in his go-to bun. “I always miss you, Joe.” The delivery is much more gentle than intended, albeit entirely true. Pre-Callie and Post-Callie, maybe even moreso now, Joe’s extended absences affected you in various ways. Being around him right now is making you more aware of just how much, even as your brain jumps to how nice it’ll be to not sleep alone tonight. That was something you always loved about Joe when he came to visit years back, how he would always bring you against his hard body, strong arms securing you. You always slept the best when he was in town.

Of course, this is way too vulnerable of a conversation to have with your daughter present, so you change subjects. “But, I also wanted to see Cody Rhodes, cause you know I’m team finish the story,” you tease, giggling at his instant scowl. It’s a lie, and you know he knows it’s a lie. Cody is cool, but you’re Team Roman (Joe) all day every day. Still, it’s in your nature to stir up trouble and pick with him.

“Dick rider,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear but low enough for Callie not to.

Smirking, you lean down to whisper in his ear. “Naw, baby, that’s for you and you only.”

Trying to move away is a fruitless effort because he yanks you onto his lap, your thighs over his legs as he murmurs against your earlobe. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“Mommy, I wanna sit there.” Callie’s jealous voice suddenly enters the conversation, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at her pout. She’s so possessive. “He’s my daddy, not yours.”

You gasp quietly when he squeezes your ass, forcing you to climb off him. “You’re very right, Callie Bear.” Moving back to your chair, you taunt, “he’s not my daddy.”

It’s hilarious watching Joe control himself for the sake of Callie, but his expression tells you everything you need to know. If not for her presence, he’d have you bent over, taking every inch of his thick dick as he reminds you just who you belong to.

The image shouldn’t excite you as much as it does.

Sure enough, Callie climbs her little self back onto the sofa and back onto Joe’s lap, but the sound of an almost rhythmic knock at his door draws the attention of all three of you. However, before Joe can respond, the door is swung open, and based upon the lack of consent, you expect to see Alexis. Instead, you’re met with a different set of folks.

“Come in,” Joe says sarcastically, and you glare, standing up to greet them.

“Whassup, Y/N? Long time, no see, girl.” Jon’s introduction is so typical and expected, but it still makes you laugh. He’s always been a hoot to be around.

“Good to see you, Jon.” He hugs you, and you turn to Josh who’s also wearing a friendly grin.

“Lil hurt you ain’t hit me up to help you with the surprise.” He sucks his teeth but still hugs you, as you shake your head.

“I thought you’d be on Raw,” you answer. It’s the truth, even if who exactly helped you make this happen didn’t matter as much as ensuring it did in fact happen.

“That why you been acting weird?” Joe’s voice enters the conversation. “You knew?”

“We both knew,” Joshua answers as you give Jon a look.

He asks, “what?”

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms, “I told you not to tell nobody!”

“I didn’t! It’s just Josh.” He shrugs, and you can only shake your head. There’s a reason these two are so popular in the WWE. A lot of their promos could be ripped from real life interactions.

“Y/N!” Trinity's gorgeous smile is the first thing you notice followed by her surprise introduction, even before her colorful gear that you’ve always been so amazed by as she rushes over to you. She stretches her arm, “it’s so good to see you again!” Smiling, you accept her hug, tight and genuine. In the few interactions you’d had with her, she was also so kind and friendly. It’s nice to see that hasn’t changed.

“It’s good to see you too, Trin.” You mean it. She's just a genuinely chill person.

Looking over to Callie, you see she’s still sitting on Joe’s lap, holding onto his hoodie, obviously trying to read the room full of strangers. Jon must notice this too as he looks her way as well, giving her that warm smile.

“And this….” He starts walking toward her, crouching down in front of the sofa. “---this must be the famous Ms. Callie.”

A small chuckle leaves your mouth watching her suddenly “hide” her face in Joe’s side, as one eye is still peaked open.

You whisper over to the group, “don’t let her fool you. She’s shy at first, but then she won’t be quiet.” It’s a conversation so similar to Callie’s first meeting with Joe which feels so long ago now.

Joe’s also clearly a bit amused at her sudden shyness and goes to introduce them. “Callie, these are my cousins, Jon and Josh.” She looks up with a quizzical expression and motions with her hand for him to lean down. He does so, and she whispers something in his ear. His smile grows as he answers, “they are.” Looking still a bit skeptical, she waves her hand again. Take two. He dips his head, and she whispers something else. Again, he answers, “yup.” At this, she gasps and jumps off the sofa, running over to you.

Callie hugs your legs and “whispers” to you with all of the excitement, “mommy, they’re my cousins too! I have cousins!”

It takes a lot out of you not to get emotional in this moment. She’s so damn happy at this news, at finding out she has more family. You lean down and push back some of her loose curls. “You surely do, baby.”

Finally pleased with the confirmation, she turns around and beams at the twins and Trinity, “hi! I’m Callie!”

There’s a chorus of laughter as Trinity speaks this time, “it’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

“You’re pretty,” Callie compliments, and Trin places a hand over her chest, clearly touched by her kindness.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so sweet,” she awes as Josh joins in, introducing himself as Callie stares at him for a second.

“You’re a twin,” she says it like this is the first time he’s ever heard as such or even realized as such.

Josh does a good job going along with it, nodding and smiling. “I sure am.”

Callie suddenly turns to you. “Mommy, how come I don’t have a twin?”

“Because Jesus loved mommy enough not to do that to me.” Childbirth is equally horrific as it is beautiful, and while you’re forever grateful for your sweet child, you’ll never forget that pain. Pushing her out was torture. You can’t even begin to imagine having to do it twice, back to back.

Twins….never.

Josh suddenly chimes before Callie can present a follow-up question. “I have a little girl who’s a couple years older than you, and I can’t wait for ya’ll to meet.”

She gasps loudly. “I have more cousins?”

Jon sucks his teeth and answers, “Girl, you got so many cousins, you might meet em’ all before you turn 18.”

Her jaw drops. “I'll be really old then!”

Shaking your head, you start to counter her when Joe speaks up, calling her name.

“You have another cousin here tonight, baby girl.” There’s a second of confusion, but you realize he must be talking about Solo Sikoa. You hadn’t met him, as he came onto the scene after you and Joe separated. But as you told Joe, he’s free to introduce you to any and all family. You want this for your little girl. It’s obvious just from her reaction to the twins and Trin, she wants it as well. “Do you wanna meet him?”

It’s a no brainer, Callie nodding furiously as she runs to jump back on the sofa, sitting next to Joe.

He laughs at her enthusiasm and then calls out, “come in.” It’s loud enough for whoever is on the other side of the door to do so, and while you expect to see the final member of the bloodline enter the space, you’re thoroughly and shockingly surprised to see that you are very wrong.

Because through the door aren't the footsteps and subsequent entrance of Solo Sikoa.

It’s Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson.

While you’re in a semi state of shock, Callie is in a pure state of unadulterated delirium, and it’s entirely expected given she knows this man as something else.

Someone else.

“Maui!”

The entire room erupts in laughter as Callie rushes to stand in front of Dwayne who gets down on one knee to be more eye to eye with her.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Callie.”

Joe also moves closer and bends down, hand on Callie’s back. “Calista, this is my cousin, Dwayne, so that means he’s yo—”

“Maui is my cousin!”

This little girl is damn near screaming, but it’s so hard to tell her to quiet down when you’re pretty sure this may be the single most happiest moment of her life.

Next to finding out Joe is her dad, of course.

Once your own shock wears off, you pull your phone out to snap a few photos, almost wishing you knew ahead of time The freaking Rock was going to be present tonight. You also would have tried to make yourself look a little more presentable, especially when Joe introduces you to his cousin as well.

And of course because you’re the one who starts taking pictures, it’s only a matter of time before you’re dragged into a few of your own. It’s an easy pass, as you feel entirely underdressed with your all black one piece, long cardigan, and boots, having dressed comfortably for traveling. Not photo-ops.

But, it’s when Callie pouts and says so sweetly, all the innocence in the world, “but we’re a family” that it actually hits you for the first time.

You, Joe, Callie….you don’t just feel like a family. You are one.

So you push aside your vanity and swallow back the tears to partake in a slate of photos involving everyone to just you, Callie, and Joe to even just a couple of you and Joe. Your favorites are most definitely the ones with the three of you, especially one where Joe sits you down on his left leg and Callie on his right. He squeezes your side, forcing a squeal and laugh that makes Callie laugh as well, creating such an organic, beautiful moment between the three of you.

A family.

—-----------

The night keeps on bringing more and more surprises, the latest one being the fact that instead of hiding out backstage, you, Alexis, and Callie are seated ringside in the VIP section with other family members and close friends of the wrestlers.

It’s…..definitely not what you expected. You’re not opposed, especially since Callie was thrilled to learn she’d be much closer to Joe out here than she would from the back, but it’s just not what you were expecting.

It’s so…..public.

“How long does it take someone to walk out like da—”

“Alexis!” You scold her, even if you slightly agree. It’s not that you’re not enjoying yourself. You are. You just would much rather see your man, and you know Callie feels the same way. Every so often she’ll lift her head from her tablet, hoping to see Joe only to be disappointed.

You tried to tell her that as soon as she hears his music, he’ll come out, but that was nearly 45 minutes ago. A part of you wishes you could have found somewhere backstage to hide out as Joe and the others eventually had to leave to cut a promo.

So while Alexis' delivery is slightly off, she has somewhat of a valid point.

Rolling her eyes, she looks your way, asking. “Can you text him and tell him to hurry up?”

Shaking your head, you answer with just as much sass and sarcasm. “Yes, I’ll get right on—”

And that’s when you hear it.

“Oh shit,” Alexis pulls out her phone, instantly starting to record because this whole trip apparently needs to be memorialized with photo and video. Not that you’re entirely or in any way opposed. This is Callie’s first time at one of her dad’s shows. It’s special and should be documented in one way or another.

Looking to your side, you see her tablet is on the empty seat next to her, and she’s reaching for you to pick her up so she can see better.

Quickly obliging, you hike her on your hip and laugh at her excited expression. Her eyes are scanning all over for him, so you direct her to where he should be walking out any minute.

“I wonder whose music that is,” Alexis teases, and you turn with Callie to face the phone that’s capturing this moment.

Callie answers proudly. “My daddy’s!”

You and Lex laugh at her excitement that grows exponentially when Joe finally walks out, flanked by his cousins and Paul.

“There he is!” She points, and you smile, kissing her cheek. This is all so worth it, the pure joy and glee on her face. You follow her line of vision, focusing on the Tribal Chief himself.

Damn.

Joe is one fine ass man. That’s it. That’s the tweet. But when he’s in his Roman role? That confidence, that swagger……everything sexy about him is amped up times ten. You may have to rethink your stance on no sex for this trip.

It feels almost criminal to be around this man and not ride him until you can’t no more.

The naughty thoughts are temporarily pushed away when you notice Callie is nodding her head to Joe’s entrance music. Laughing, you and Alexis join in. Lex is still recording, and you’re actually happy she is because she gets it on camera when Callie throws up the one to ‘acknowledge' him. Your heart swells. There’s something about that moment that’s so precious to you, to see how connected she feels with him. How closely they’ve bonded. How much she loves him. And even more, how much he loves her.

As they near the ring, you notice how Joe branches off from them, and you assume it’s because of whatever this promo entails. But, you quickly realize it’s because he’s headed toward you. There’s this brief sense of panic on your end, meanwhile Callie gasps in excitement and reaches for him. Joe hugs her and kisses her temple. Touched at the gesture, you look at her only for Joe to take you by equal surprise when he grabs your chin and kisses you as well.

What…..the…..hell?

You’re not upset, just genuinely surprised that he would be so openly affectionate with you, maybe not Callie as much, but definitely you. So….public. You’re certain that your face is painted in shock the whole time, but it’s when he heads into the ring that you and Alexis share a look, Callie too focused on her daddy to notice anything else.

“Girl, if you don’t tell that man you love him, I’m gonna tell him for you.” She could be joking. She could be serious. You never really know with Alexis. “Because he literally just acknowledged you in front of all these people.”

There’s still a part of you that’s having difficulty processing what just happened. You were worried that Joe would feel some type of way about you and Callie coming to his job, just staying backstage, but this man really has you both ringside and broke character just to show you and Callie affection.

If there was ever any doubt in your mind regarding his feelings for you, tonight has completely demolished it.

Alexis is right.

You need to tell him.

And you need to tell him tonight.

________

As much excitement as the day has brought, you knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up to your still very young child. Joe’s segment with The Rock ended up being the closing promo, which worked out great because Callie started to doze off a bit right around that time. And when you’re finally able to reunite with Joe backstage, she’s all but sleeping in your arms.

In having to buckle and unbuckle her in her car seat for the travel to the hotel, she stirs a bit, but as soon as you arrive and Joe removes her from the car seat, the end of the travels, you know she’s out for the night.

He carries her into the hotel room and walks her into the main bedroom while you place the bag you have for both her and yourself near the “living room” area. Joe insisted he could handle both the luggage and Callie, but you insisted that he instead focus on your little girl.

You also take a moment to take in that this is an actual hotel room instead of an apartment. There are literally two bedrooms separated by doors and all and two bathrooms, both of which rival the size of Callie’s bedroom.

It’s definitely not your local motel from back home.

Joe walks back in, no Callie in sight. “She is knocked out.”

“I knew she would tap out eventually. She’s been up all day, refused to nap.” He walks over to you, hands on your hips as he tugs you close. Your hands move to his chest. “She was too excited to see you.”

“Thank you, by the way,” he murmurs. “For bringing her.”

You chew on your bottom lip. “I almost didn’t. I—I didn’t know if you’d be upset I didn’t ask you first.”

His furrowed brows tell you that couldn’t be farther from the truth. “Why would I be upset?”

You shrug, suddenly unsure of yourself, which is such a foreign feeling. Confident is always a word you’d use to describe yourself, but in this moment, having this discussion, it’s not as applicable. “I guess….I guess I wasn’t too sure if you’d want people knowing about me.” Your voice softens. “About Callie.”

And it’s true. It’s one thing for Joe to be out in public with Callie back home, but it’s an entirely different thing to be out in public in his world.

Granted, his public display of affection tonight should have squashed that concern.

Just your implication alone seems to be a dagger to his chest. Joe brings his hands to your face and speaks with such confidence and conviction. “I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not ashamed of us, and I’m damn sure not ashamed of my daughter. I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Do I want to do an exclusive interview about us? Hell no. But, that’s because my personal life is nobody’s business but my own. I’m not hiding your or our daughter from anyone in my personal life, not my friends, not my family, and not the WWE.”

For a second, you feel bad for making him have to defend himself so staunchly, have to explain himself. It’s not necessary.

Not after he so openly acknowledged you and Callie tonight.

“I believe you,” you respond quietly. You move your hands up and down his chest in an effort to settle him. “I know you’re not ashamed. I’m sorry.” Remembering the video from earlier, you pull your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. Locating it takes a matter of seconds. “I figured you’d like this.” You hit play and angle the phone so he can see, a massive smile growing on his handsome face. It’s like you can feel the tension melt away when he lays eyes on Callie.

Similar to yourself, he seems especially moved by Callie’s “acknowledgment.” You lay your head against his chest, whispering, “she really does love you, ya know.”

Just like her mama.

Video finished, you bite on your bottom lip, an idea crossing your mind. Such weak resolve indeed. “You know, she sleeps heavy…..very heavy.” His eyes narrow, intrigued by where you’re giving. Smirking to yourself, you head toward the bathroom. “I think I’m gonna go take a bath in that nice big tub that could totally fit two people.”

In what seems like inhuman speed, Joe is in front of you, hand coming down on your ass. Hard. “Joe!”

“Get your ass naked. Now.” ________

His head is in the crook of your neck, lips pressing gentle kisses against the wet skin of your shoulder. You chew on your bottom lip, hands on top of his that rest under the water on your stomach.

“I always miss you too,” he murmurs against you, a nod to the brief conversation from earlier. Eyes closing, you rest your head back against his shoulder.

This moment is perfect, and you hate to ruin that, to take away from it. But, you also promised yourself that you would be honest with him, especially when it comes to Callie.

Turning around in the water, you straddle him, legs on either side of his large body. Before he can take your change in position to mean something else, you bring your hands to his face. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

You’re certain he can tell by your tone that whatever it is is serious. “Tell me.”

Fuck. This is harder than you thought it would be. “I wanted to see you, yes, but Callie….Callie needed to come see you.” You can tell he has questions, so you move straight into it, not wanting to delay the inevitable. “She’s been…she’s been different.” He sits up, fully immersed in the conversation. “Not bad, just….she’s been irritable with me at times. Even her teacher said something. You don’t see it, because she’s fine when she talks to you, even after. But when she can’t talk to you….” You shake your head. “I talked to my mom about it, because I was thinking she’s finally feeling whatever I caused when I ran off that night, but….that’s not it.”

You made the executive decision to not tell him, however, about her drawing or how she cried into your chest because she missed him so much and couldn't understand why he hadn’t come back to see her. This already must be hard for him to hear. There’s no need to throw salt on the wound.

You know the full truth would crush him.

“So then I talked to her.” You lower your hands to his broad shoulders, massaging them soothingly, voice softening as you finally tell him, “---and she told me she’s been sad because she misses you.”

You see it. The moment his heart drops. He’s crushed, eyes averting downward. His guilt is almost palpable.

“Please don’t do that.” Voice gentle, you bring your hands back to his face, urging him to meet your loving gaze. “You have done such an amazing job stepping into the father role, and it shows in how much she loves you. You go above and beyond for her. She just can’t grasp what it is you do because she’s too young to do so, but I talked with my principal, and I’ve got the time to take off, so I’m gonna take it. I’ll bring her to you.”

“Y/N….”

“It’s not an issue. Especially since summer will be here before we know it. I’m off then too, so we can make that work. We will make this work, because she’s our daughter, and that’s what parents do.” Your words are partially penetrating, that much is obvious, so you continue. “I really didn’t want to say anything, because I knew you would feel bad, and you absolutely shouldn’t, but I also don’t want to keep anything from you, especially when it’s about Callie. You’re her father. You have a right to know.”

“It’s why you didn’t tell me you were bringing her, because you knew I’d ask,” he puts two and two together. You’re not surprised. Joe’s always been annoyingly perspicacious and insightful. “Thank you…for telling me.”

Kissing his forehead, you remind him, “Calista loves you, Joe. Whether you’re in town or not. You could be doing a show on fucking Mars, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. She loves you.” You lick your lips, voice unintentionally light and soft. “And so do I.” It’s not a planned admission, not anything scheduled, just an honest, organic confession.

His gaze is on you, no longer as despondent but replaced with something more akin to surprise.

“I’ve always loved you.” You bring your palm to his cheek, his beard prickling against your skin. “The only reason I told you to leave was because I loved you, because it was too hard to be in love with you and not really be with you. And after all this time, I still love you. I don’t think I ever stopped.”

It's the truth. In the time he'd been absent from your life, you absolutely could have found someone and moved on. Maybe even settled down, but you couldn't. Because your heart was still with him.

You're pretty certain your heart will always be with him.

“That was my fault,” he acknowledges in a low voice. “I never told you what you meant to me, never took the steps to make you mine. Officially. And I was wrong for that, Y/N. Dead wrong. You always deserved better.”

Gaze softening, you murmur, “I always knew you were married, Joe. You never hid that from me.”

He shakes his head. “But I never—”

“It doesn’t matter—” it’s not entirely true. It does matter to you, you still want and maybe even have some degree of right to know just what the deal was with his marriage, why it took so long for him to divorce his ex-wife. However, at this moment, you don’t care about any of that. This isn’t about that. “I love you, and you love me. That…..that’s what matters.”

He looks like he still has more to say but is being respectful of what you want right now. So he asserts, “you’re with me now.”

“I’m with you now,” you repeat with a soft smile. “I’m with you always.”

Joe sits up, water pushing towards the other side of the tub. “You love me.” It’s more of a statement than a question, like he’s always known as such but was patiently waiting for you to openly admit to such. “I love you too, baby girl.”

Your lips connect for a kiss, passionate, hot, sensual, greedy. His hands are on your back, holding you close, your breast pressed against his chest.

Your mouth parts when he moves his hand to your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he plants wet kisses down your jawline. “Let me make love to you.” His lips are fire against your wet skin, and you can’t bring yourself to answer with his hands roaming your body under the water, fingers parting your folds.

All you can do is nod eagerly. Joe surprises you when he ensures your legs are locked around him, standing up like you weigh next to nothing. Bodies dripping with water doesn’t make a difference to him as he walks you into the empty bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him, and lays you down on the bed.

“Baby, we’re all wet,” you point out, not that it changes anything. He’s hot and hard against your thigh, and you feel yourself subconsciously inching down to take him in. “We ca—ahhh.” Your fingers scrape down his chest as he sinks into you. You’ll never get over the feeling of him inside you, the equally painful as it is pleasurable stretch.

“Joe….”

His head is in the crook of your neck. “It’s always been you.” His hands go to your legs, your thighs, spreading them further, deepening his reach. “Always.”

He pins your hands above your head, by your wrists and you writhe under him. His pace is slow and intentional. This isn’t about either of you getting off, it’s so much more, much more deeper, meaningful.

“You’ve always been my home.” But, it’s when he says that, so beautiful and vulnerable, that any remaining resolve you had shatters. Tugging on his grip, he loosens his hold and your hands push lightly on his chest. You give enough pressure for him to recognize you’re trying to switch positions. In seconds, he’s on his back with you on top, lips connected with his for a sensual kiss, your hands intertwining again above the pillow as you ride him.

You break the kiss, unable to keep in your moan. He feels so good inside you like this, and you lean back, moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. You know he loves you like this, riding him, breast bouncing as he meets your thrusts. Joe's hand moves up your stomach to your breast giving a deliciously tight squeeze.

“God, I love you,” you whimper, feeling your release building up. It never takes long with Joe. He’s master of your body and all the ways to bring you to a mewling mess.

You’re taken back when he sits up, tugging you closer, his dick hitting a different, even better spot. He kisses you again, more sloppy, just as passionate. And you moan into his mouth as his big hands plant on your hips, controlling your movements.

“Fuck, Joe.”

“Say it again,” he directs, and you’re momentarily confused why he instructs, “tell me you love me, baby.”

“I love you.” It’s probably one of the easiest things you’ve ever done as your fingers lock in his hair, your head back as he licks up the nape of your neck. “I love you so much.”

Your words seem to send him over the edge as well, his mouth latching onto your nipple as he says against your inflamed skin, “let me come in you.”

That feels like a layered request, like he’s asking two questions in one, not that it makes a massive difference.

The answer is the same either way.

This man has your entire heart and soul, and you’ll give him whatever he asks for. Whatever.

Your finger knots in his scalp as you yank his head back, forcing him to look at you, “only if you come with me.”

His response is to switch positions again, this time laying you on your side as he fucks you from behind. His hand is planted on your belly, fingers spread and splayed as he talks you through it, carrying you into that wonderland of bliss and euphoria. Your hands scrape against the sheets as your orgasm rocks your entire body, and Joe follows shortly after, emptying his entire seed inside of you.

Bodies wet and spent, his mouth is still on your back as he breathes into your skin, “I love you….”

Chewing on your lip and moving onto your back, your gaze is on him, loving and content. “I love you, too….”

________

You and Joe take separate showers, a mutual agreement as you both know together would just result in another round. Not that either of you are wholly objected, but you also need to be available for your daughter should she wake up for some reason. Not very likely, but just the chance alone is enough to stay on the safe side.

As Callie is conveniently sleeping in the middle of the bed, you and Joe slide in on opposite sides. Interestingly enough, not even a few minutes pass before Callie stirs in her sleep and moves on her side, facing Joe. It’s heartwarming how he gently caresses her forehead, just watching her sleep.

“I’ve been thinking.” He makes a sound acknowledging your statement, but his eyes are focused on Callie. You know he’s taking in this moment, recognizing that in a matter of hours he’ll have to leave. That he won’t see her again for another almost two weeks. “What if we moved?”

At that, his eyes lift up, so you explain, “My mom is actually the one who brought it up. I didn’t see or understand it then, but I’m starting to get it now. You come to my place, Callie and I can come to see you here, but….we don’t have a place that’s ours.”

If this trip has shown you anything, it’s the importance of togetherness. Callie is most happy when you’re all together. She’s thrilled to be with Joe, but she’s most elated when it’s the three of you. You understand what your mom was trying to say. Callie wants family. She wants the three of you to be a family, and while there’s a lot of things that are untraditional about your dynamic, there are still paths to normalcy.

And one of those paths include having a home that belongs to the three of you, not just you or him, but a space for us.

“You would do that?” It’s hard for you to tell if his voice is so soft because he’s trying to avoid disturbing Callie or he’s deeply moved by your suggestion. Maybe both.

“Of course.” It’s an easy answer, especially when it comes to what’s best for your daughter. “I can teach anywhere. I have my mom and a few cousins, but that’s it. Almost your entire family is in Florida. You saw how easily she connected and bonded with your family. I want her to have that, and she can’t if we stay in my town. I told you before….she wants to be with you, and so do I.”

You spent so long wanting and dreaming of having that, you’re entirely done with running and overthinking. It’s done nothing but keep you from being with the man you love and want to do life with. It’s time to focus on now and embrace the future.

A future that includes your family.

“I’ll have my manager find us a realtor.”

There’s something so exciting and pleasing about this, most likely that it’s the first step of establishing your future with this man. You’re not sure the last time you felt such peace.

Yawning, you realize that while you feel exhausted, he must be drained. “Goodnight, Joe.”

Turning on your back, he wishes you a goodnight and anything else after that is lost to the drowsiness that precedes sleep.

But, it’s a sleep that doesn’t last as long as you’d like.

Having Callie has made you a lighter sleeper in general, so when Joe gets up and out of the bed, needing to get ready to leave, you’re up shortly after him. You don’t get out of the bed, just move so that Callie is right next to you. You know once he’s gone, she’ll be right under you, so might as well get a head start.

And it happens much sooner than you’d like it to, Joe on the side of the bed, crouched down, as he goes to wake her up.

It’s something he was entirely against until you told him that in talking to Callie, she made you promise that he'd wake up to tell her bye. She didn’t want him to leave without getting a chance to say goodbye.

So, he respects that.

“Callie…” You can see he still hates this, hates all of it. You feel it too. It’s not enjoyable having to see these two separated when it’s obvious how close they are. At the end of the day, you get to go home with Callie. He doesn't. “Baby, wake up.”

Helping him out, you give her shoulder a little shake. “Calista, come on, baby, daddy’s gotta go.”

She’s so much like her dad, a heavy sleeper, but finally she stirs, eyes blinking open. And as soon as she sees him, she also knows what time it is. She sits up and rubs at her eyes, moving to hug him.

“Bye.” Her soft, sleepy voice is both precious and heartbreaking, for a lot of reasons. You try to remind yourself though that she’s bound to be ecstatic when you and Joe break the news to her that you’ll all be moving in together. It’s just a matter of getting through this rough patch.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He kisses her temple and just as you predicted, she tucks herself into your side, readying to go back to sleep. Joe brings his palm to your cheek, “I love you too.”

Smiling warmly, you murmur, “I know....I love you too.” Easiest hello and hardest goodbye has always been such a cliched, overused, corny ass saying to you, but in this moment, you feel it wholeheartedly. “I’ll text you when we get back home.”

He nods, clearly pleased with this. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

That’s the silver lining. There won’t be as much of a stretch of time that passes between the time you get to see him again. And this pleases you as you give him one last smile before laying back down and dreaming of a future that isn’t as far out as you once believed.

It may be just around the corner.

________

Meanwhile in the Social Media-Verse…..

TRENDING THREADS

#1: R0m@n Re!gns new gf?

Original Poster: Sooooo. I was on Twitter being nosy, and people who attended the Smackdown show tonight are saying that RR stopped during his entrance to hug and kiss some woman and child sitting ringside. Can’t find any photos or video yet but will come back and add any that I find. Anyone got the tea?

Post #1: I thought he got divorced? I could have sworn I saw an article months about that.

Post #2: I saw the tweets too! Someone asked if it was his ex, but the wwe fanboys are saying the woman was too “fat” to be the ex-wife.

Post #3: That’s so interesting, cause I was watching live tonight (from home because broke bitch status) and the camera randomly cut to the commentators which felt like a strange move given Roman’s entrance is so iconic. I wonder if that’s when it happened.

Post #4: Ain’t nobody got no video or nothing? Didn’t happen. That’s not even aligned with his heel portrayal.

Post #5: @Post#4: He broke character clearly…..

Post #6: Omg yes!!! I was there tonight with my friend, and while we weren’t super close, it definitely happened. That wasn’t his ex-wife. Even from a distance, we could see that. And she’s not fat either, just curvy. Super pretty too. Like stunning. And yes, she’s black.

Post #7: I just saw someone on Twitter who claims to have been sitting near them say the little girl called him ‘daddy’ 😲

Post #8: I thought he didn’t have any kids??? Harpo who dis woman?????

Post #9: Damn, it must be serious if he acknowledging her while on the clock and playing daddy to her kid. Our man is taken taken, ya’ll. 😪

Post#10: This is wild. I just googled his name plus the word wife and came across like one picture from years back where she attended some charity event with him. I wonder what their marriage was like cause homegirl never went nowhere with this man.

Post #11: A lot of ya’ll must be new because the tea was spilled years ago in a legendary DR thread that he cheats. Apparently the wife did too. Seemed like an open marriage, Will and Jada type shit, just a lot more private and secretive.

Post #12: @Post11: I am new lol What was the DR? I need to know for…..research purposes.

Post #13: @Post12: Lol. Homegirl said he’s packing, the stroke game is immaculate, and that he’s a eater…..had her damn near speaking in tongues, going up yonder. So whoever this woman is….she’s winning in life.

Post #14: @Post10 That is so true omg. There’s like nothing there. I know he’s very private but damn sis you can’t make at least an annual appearance????

Post #15: That was his whore (mistress) turned girlfriend and the kid is (allegedly) his. She sucked and fucked her way to that “acknowledgement.”

Post #16: @Post15: Whaaaattttt? You sound like you have tea, sis? Care to spill. 👀

Post #17: @Post16: The truth will come out soon enough.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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