#get back to it 2.5 hours later

[sunfoxfic]

after literally spending hours today on it, I now have a highish-quality version of the complete first My Hero Academia stage play. I'm going to go insane

[leverage-ot3]

hozier starting to sing take me to church and then unfurling a pride flag healed something in me actually

if you listen closely you can hear me yell ‘oh my god’ when he does it

[aastarions]

i have had enough of hospitals to last me 25 years good lord

[deadtower]

i swear to god i’m queen of jobs. i lost my job on tuesday and i already have a new one

[pucksandpower]

To Have a Heart

CEO!Max Verstappen x single mother!Reader

Summary: Max is a titan of industry, used to making grown men cry with one glance … then you and your daughter turn his carefully controlled life upside down

Warnings: descriptions of pediatric cancer

Max strides into his corner office, his Italian leather shoes clicking sharply on the marble floors. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the Manhattan skyline, but he pays it no mind as he makes his way to the large mahogany desk.

His assistant, Clara, follows a few steps behind, her heels clacking nervously. “Sir, Mr. Henderson is waiting in the conference room per your request.”

Max doesn’t bother responding as he unbuttons his suit jacket and takes a seat behind the desk. With a flick of his wrist, he motions for Clara to leave. She gives the tiniest of nods and scurries out, closing the double doors behind her.

Taking a deep breath, Max presses the intercom button. “Send him in.”

A moment later, the doors reopen and a balding, paunchy man in an ill-fitting suit enters. Even from across the room, Max can see the bead of sweat rolling down the man’s forehead.

Good.

He should be nervous.

“Mr. Henderson.” Max says, his tone clipped. “Do you know why I called you here?”

The man — Henderson — fidgets with his tie. “Y-Yes, sir. The, uh, the Brighton acquisition ...”

“The $3.75 billion deal that was supposed to be finalized yesterday.” Max interjects, leaning back in his chair. “A deal that the company has been meticulously negotiating for over six months. A deal that would have been the largest hostile takeover in our firm’s history.”

Henderson gives a somber nod, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Max fights the urge to roll his eyes at the sad display.

“Because of your incompetence, that deal is now in jeopardy.” Max continues, his voice dropping to a menacing register. “Please explain to me how someone with three decades of accounting experience could possibly make the amateur mistake of misplacing a decimal point on the binding purchase agreement?”

“I … I missed it in the final review.” Henderson stammers out, sweat now visibly staining the armpits of his shirt. “The numbers, they all start to blur together after-”

“Do not insult my intelligence with your pitiful excuses.” Max cuts him off, slamming a fist down on the desk. He takes no small amount of satisfaction in the way the man flinches. “Because of your idiocy, we offered $235 million over the agreed purchase price. An overpayment to the tune of $2.5 billion with a ‘B’!”

Henderson seems to shrink into himself with each biting word. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Verstappen. It won’t happen again, I swear-”

“You’re damn right it won’t happen again.” Max growls, rising from his chair so quickly that it goes clattering backwards. He leans across the desk, getting directly in Henderson’s ashen face. “Because you’re fired. Effective immediately.”

The words seem to take a moment to register in Henderson’s mind. When they do, his eyes widen in panic and he starts shaking his head rapidly.

“No, no, please! You can’t fire me!” he cries, any veneer of professionalism crumbling. “I-I’ll work double shifts, triple shifts! I’ll volunteer for all the weekend audits, no overtime pay! J-Just don’t fire me, I’m begging you!”

Max recoils slightly at the outburst of blubbering, his lip curling in disgust. How pathetic, to see a grown man so thoroughly debased. He almost feels pity for the wretch … almost.

“This conversation is over.” Max says, his tone resolute as he straightens his tie. “You have one hour to collect your things and get out of my building. After that, security will escort you out.”

“B-But I have three kids!” Henderson sputters, tears streaming down his face now. “A mortgage. Alimony payments! You can’t just-”

In a burst of rage, Max sweeps his arm across the desk, sending papers, files, and office supplies clattering to the floor in a violent clutter.

“I am Max Verstappen!” He bellows, his face flushed crimson. “I do not make empty threats, Mr. Henderson. You are a miserable, costly disappointment. A failure. And I will not allow failures to remain under my employ.”

The words seem to drain what little fight was left in Henderson. His shoulders slump in defeat, and he lets out a pitiful whimper. Max feels his anger deflate, replaced with a tired disdain.

“One hour.” he repeats, falling back into his chair in exhaustion. “Get out of my sight.”

Henderson doesn’t need to be told twice. With trembling hands, he begins collecting the various objects scattered across the floor — pencils, paperclips, manila folders now slightly crumpled. His motions are slow, pained, like those of a man having just received a terminal diagnosis.

Max watches impassively as the sniveling accountant gathers his belongings. Part of him feels a twinge of … not quite guilt, but maybe the faintest pangs of empathy for the broken man before him. He quickly smothers that flicker of sympathy. This is the cost of doing business in the world of high-stakes acquisitions and mergers. There is no room for weakness or mistakes. Only results matter.

Finally, with his meager pile of office supplies clutched to his chest, Henderson straightens up. His face is blotchy and tear-stained, but he seems to have regained some small scrap of dignity. He meets Max’s cold stare for just a moment before turning on his heel and shuffling out of the office.

The double doors close behind him with a hollow thud that hangs in the air. Max lets out a slow exhale, suddenly aware of the tension that had been coiling inside him. He runs a hand over his face, then taps a button on his phone intercom.

“Clara, get me William Evans from legal on the line immediately.” he says, his voice steady once more. “We need to do damage control on the Brighton situation before it becomes irreparable.”

“Right away, sir.” comes the reply, his assistant’s voice tightly professional.

Max leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he stares out at the New York City skyline. This is far from the first firing he has issued, and it certainly won’t be the last. He is a great white shark, always needing to move forward or else he will drown in the depths of his own ambition.

There is a soft rap at the door, pulling Max from his reverie.

“Come in.” he calls out. Clara enters, her face schooled into a mask of polite disinterest. So much the better — he respects discretion.

“I have Mr. Evans on line two for you.” she says crisply.

Max gives a succinct nod. “Thank you, Clara. That will be all.”

As his assistant withdraws, Max takes a fortifying breath. He is Max Verstappen. He is the master of the corporate ocean. And he will not allow one flailing failure to capsize his empire.

Squaring his shoulders, he picks up the phone and begins issuing a stern series of orders and demands. After all, there is little time for rest when one aims to be a modern day titan of industry.

***

You take a deep breath and rap firmly on the door to the HR director’s office. “Come in.” a flat voice calls out.

Steeling yourself, you twist the handle and step inside the dingy, fluorescent-lit room. Janet, the red-haired HR manager, looks up from her computer with a practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Ah, Y/N. What can I do for you today?” She asks in an overly saccharine tone.

You take a seat across from her cluttered desk, your knee bouncing with nervous energy. “I … I need to request some personal leave. Family medical reasons.”

Janet’s perfectly penciled eyebrows rise in bland surprise. “I see. And how much time were you hoping to take?”

Your throat tightens as you force out the words. “At least a month. Maybe more, depending on … on how things progress.”

The HR manager clucks her tongue as she shakes her head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible. We’re in our busiest quarter and you know the company policy — no extended leave during crunch periods unless it’s a valid health emergency.”

You feel panic fluttering in your chest. This has to be a valid emergency! “But it is an emergency! My daughter, she’s ...” Your voice cracks and you swallow hard, desperate to maintain your composure. “She’s very sick, potentially terminal. I need to be with her right now.”

Janet’s face remains stubbornly impassive. “I’m sorry to hear about your daughter’s illness. Truly, I am. But unless you can provide official documentation from a medical professional, my hands are tied.”

The words hit you like a slap across the face. Of course they would require documentation to approve leave — it’s standard corporate policy. But how can mentally collect yourself to get paperwork in order when you’ve been spending every waking moment by your little girl’s hospital bedside?

Unbidden, your mind flashes back to two nights ago, watching in helpless terror as your daughter’s tiny body was racked with another severe seizure. You had screamed yourself hoarse calling for the nurses as the meds they pumped into her did little to stop the violent convulsions ...

You’re vaguely aware of Janet still speaking across from you, something about company guidelines and productivity expectations. But the words sound muffled and far away, as if you’re underwater.

How naive you were to think they might bend the rules, just this once. To think the faceless corporation you pour your life into might actually show a shred of human compassion during your hour of desperate need.

No. That’s not how companies like this operate.

They don’t care about you or your daughter’s life. All they care about is the bottom line, and you’re just an expendable number in their organizational flowchart.

You’re jolted back to reality as Janet raps her lacquered nails impatiently on the desk. “Well? Is there anything else or can I get back to work?”

Is there anything else? Oh, there’s so much more you want to scream at this unfeeling paper-pusher. You want to cry and rage and beg her to just show an ounce of basic human decency.

But you know it would be pointless. Janet is just a cog, same as you. There’s only one person here with the power and influence to authorize what you need.

Only one person who strikes abject terror into the heart of every employee with his infamous volcanic temper and uncompromising expectations.

The thought makes your stomach twist into knots, but you know what you have to do. For your little girl’s sake, you have to try.

So you rise from the chair, willing your legs not to shake. “Thank you for your time.” you mutter tightly, already turning on your heel and storming out of the office.

You don’t look back as Janet calls out something about proper procedure. You just keep moving, your footsteps fueled by a mother’s desperation.

The elevator seems to take an eternity, each second feeling like a little bit more of your daughter’s life trickling away. By the time the doors finally open with a mocking ding, you’re practically vibrating with pent-up nervous energy.

As the mirrored box ascends, your heart feels like it’s trying to batter its way out of your chest. You can hardly breathe past the constriction in your lungs. What if the infamous Max Verstappen laughs in your face? Or has you fired on the spot for daring to interrupt his billion-dollar dealings?

No, you can’t afford to think like that. This may be your only chance to get the time off you so desperately need. For your daughter’s sake, you have to be brave.

The elevator seems to crawl upward at a glacial pace. By the time the doors finally part with a soft chime, you feel like you’re going to be sick from anxiety. This is it, the executive floor — the lair of the terrifying Max Verstappen himself.

You step out into the plush, mahogany-accented lobby with shaking legs. Behind a curved desk, Max’s assistant Clara looks up, her expression instantly hardening when she recognizes you as some inconsequential employee.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Verstappen is not accepting any visitors at the moment.” she says, her tone brooking no argument. “If you’d like to schedule an appointment for next week ...”

“Please.” you blurt out, hating how your voice trembles. “It’s an emergency. I … I need to see him. Just for five minutes.”

Clara’s manicured eyebrow arches skeptically. “I extremely doubt Mr. Verstappen would consider your issue important enough to warrant an unscheduled meeting. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a million things to-”

“It’s about my sick daughter!” The words burst from your lips before you can stop them. Immediately, you regret being so unprofessional, but desperation has eroded your self-control.

For a split second, Clara’s expression flickers with something that might be pity. But it’s quickly subsumed by her usual cool mask of professionalism as she shakes her head.

“I’m very sorry to hear about your daughter’s illness. But those are still not grounds for me to disturb Mr. Verstappen while he’s-”

“Please!” You plead, tears of frustration pricking your eyes. “I’m begging you. This could be my last chance! If he says no, I’ll leave, I promise. But I have to try!”

Clara regards you appraisingly for a long moment. Then, letting out a weary sigh, she presses the intercom button. “Sir? There’s someone here requesting an urgent meeting with you. A … personal matter.”

The line crackles with static for several tense seconds. You hold your breath, praying beyond hope that the infamous Max has a rare charitable impulse today.

Then, his unmistakable baritone growls through the small speaker. “This had better be good. Send them in.”

Clara winces almost imperceptibly before gesturing towards the double oak doors to Max’s corner office. “Good luck.” she murmurs.

You don’t need any further prompting. Drawing a shuddering breath, you straighten your spine and make your way to the doors. You pause just briefly, hands trembling, before rapping your knuckles firmly against the lacquered wood.

There’s no going back now. Either Max Verstappen is about to grant you a miracle … or utterly crush your last, fragile hope.

***

Max scowls as the intercom crackles to life, Clara’s hesitant voice filtering through the speaker. “Sir? There’s someone here requesting an urgent meeting with you. A … personal matter.”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. Surely whatever this is can wait until tomorrow. Max is elbow-deep in paperwork and holding patterns, trying to do damage control on the Brighton acquisition fumble. He has no time for frivolous “personal” disruptions.

“This had better be good.” he growls into the intercom. “Send them in.”

With an irritated huff, Max leans back in his buttery leather chair as the doors to his office swing open. He’s already opening his mouth to berate whoever dares disturb him over something as trivial as a “personal matter.”

Then you tentatively step into the room and Max’s words die in his throat.

Even with your shoulders hunched inward and your makeup smudged from crying, you are utterly breathtaking. A fragile beauty drowning in an oversized blazer, your wide eyes darting around his opulent office with obvious intimidation.

An unwelcome jolt of attraction lances through Max’s chest and he quickly squashes it down. He cannot afford such distractions, especially from a lowly employee like yourself who should know better than to interrupt him during work hours.

“Well?” He finally finds his voice, aiming for a brusque tone to remind you both of your respective places. “You’re hardly someone important enough to be granted an audience. This had better be worth my time.”

The harshness of his words seems to make you flinch. You worry your lip between your teeth, shrinking back slightly.

“I … I’m so sorry to disturb you, Mr. Verstappen.” you begin haltingly. Already Max can feel his patience waning. He hates fumbling fragility and wants only confident decisiveness.

But then your next words come tumbling out in a desperate rush. “It’s about my daughter, sir. My little girl … she’s in the hospital. She has a brain tumor and her condition is deteriorating rapidly. I asked Janet in HR for some personal leave to be with her, but she denied my request and said I need official medical documentation which could take days I don’t have!”

Tears are welling in your eyes now, your voice rising to nearly hysterical levels. “Please, Mr. Verstappen! She’s only three years old and I’m a single mom. I’m all she has right now! I’m begging you … please just give me some time to be with her before … before ...”

You seem unable to voice whatever terrifying possibility lurks in the back of your mind. Instead, you dissolve into shoulder-shaking sobs, burying your face in your hands as you break down completely.

Max feels his earlier irritation softening in spite of himself. He’s seen grown men thrice your age become blubbering messes under his withering glare. But there’s something distinctly vulnerable and gut-wrenching about your anguished tears.

Part of him recognizes this as a prime opportunity to regain control, to berate you for such an unseemly display of emotion. His reputation as a merciless taskmaster practically demands he put you in your place.

But another part of Max … a part he barely recognizes … feels a rare pang of empathy pierce through his calloused exterior.

Perhaps it’s the thought of a scared little girl lying crippled in a hospital bed, scared and missing her mother. Or perhaps it’s the way you wear your devastation so plainly, managing to humanize yourself in a way most people never achieve in his eyes.

Whatever the reason, when Max finally speaks, his tone has lost its earlier bite.

“I did not realize the full severity of the situation.” he says, slowly rising from his chair. He moves around the desk, not missing the way you tense as he approaches.

Up close, he can see the puffy redness rimming your eyes, the despair etched into every line of your face. It stirs something inside him … an ancient ghost of an emotion he can’t quite place.

“I’m sorry you were dismissed so carelessly by HR.” Max continues, struggling to keep his voice even. “Perhaps if you had led with mentioning your daughter’s condition, instead of being so oblique ...”

He trails off as you sniff loudly, dragging the sleeve of your blazer across your nose. The motion is equal parts endearing and mortifying for him to witness.

“Here.” he says impulsively, plucking a crisp linen handkerchief from his suit pocket. He presses it into your hand, watching as you blink owlishly at the unexpected gesture. “Allow me to make things right.”

Without waiting for a response, Max turns and strides over to his desk. He snatches up the phone and rapidly punches in a extension code, holding the receiver to his ear as it begins to ring.

“Janet? Yes, it’s Max Verstappen.” he says crisply when the line picks up. “I’ve just been informed about an ... employee situation that requires your immediate attention.”

He pauses, glancing over at where you’re clutching his handkerchief like a lifeline. Your eyes are still glistening with tears, but you’ve gone utterly still — hanging on his every word.

“One of our marketing staff came to me in quite a state about needing extended leave to be with their hospitalized child.” Max continues, his voice hardening slightly. “A matter you seemed to dismiss without proper consideration for the … nuances of the circumstances.”

There’s a sputtering on the other end of the line, undoubtedly Janet trying to make excuses. Max doesn’t give her the chance.

“The decision has been made to grant the employee’s leave request, effective immediately.” he cuts her off. “They will be excused for … two months, with full pay and benefits.”

His announcement seems to render you momentarily stunned. You simply stare at him, eyes wide and unblinking, like you can’t quite process what you’re hearing.

Max clears his throat self-consciously, refocusing on Janet’s flustered response filtering through the receiver. “B-But sir, we have very strict policies about-”

“Which is precisely why I’m instructing you to make an exception.” Max interjects, his voice brokering no arguments. “This leave is to be coded as paid health and wellness time. I expect no push-back or foot-dragging on this, understood?”

There’s a meek murmur of assent from Janet’s end. Max can’t resist a tight smile of satisfaction.

“Good. I’ll leave the paperwork in your capable hands then. That will be all.” He punctuates the statement by firmly hanging up the phone.

As the clatter of the receiver breaks the tense silence, Max turns to find you staring at him with an utterly inscrutable expression. For a long moment, neither of you speak or move. He finds himself paralyzed under the weight of your intense, unblinking gaze.

Then, with a strangled cry, you suddenly surge forward and throw your arms around him. Max goes ramrod stiff as your slight frame collides with his, your tears dampening the front of his crisp dress shirt.

“Thank you!” You’re whispering over and over like a prayer, clinging to him with a desperation that should be uncomfortable. And yet ... “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Max feels utterly transfixed, like a statue too stunned to react. He can’t remember the last time someone dared to encroach so boldly on his personal space, much less make actual physical contact. He’s not accustomed to such … warmth.

But before the unfamiliar embrace can start to grate on him, you suddenly pull back. Swiping at your eyes, you manage a watery smile up at him.

“You have no idea how much this means, sir. I … I can’t thank you enough for your kindness and understanding.”

He wants to scoff at the notion, to remind you that he is Max Verstappen — merciless and uncompromising in his corporate dealings. That this was merely an isolated instance of pragmatism to avoid a PR incident or workplace lawsuit, nothing more.

But something in your earnest gaze stops the curt rebuttal in his throat. For once, the infamously brusque Max Verstappen finds himself momentarily at a loss for words.

So instead, he gives a terse nod of acknowledgment. Already, his mind is starting to analyze how best to re-allocate your responsibilities for the next two months, which temporary hires to bring in for supplemental coverage.

But one stray thought continues to nag at the back of his mind, an errant curveball amongst the dizzying calculations.

For the first time in years — perhaps his entire adult life — Max feels almost … human.

It’s a strange and deeply unsettling realization, but luckily one he doesn’t have to dwell on.

Because in the next breath, you’re sweeping out of his office, a renewed vigor in your step and a brilliant smile lighting up your features. Max watches you go, an odd tightness settling into his chest.

He doesn’t have words — or perhaps doesn’t want to admit to any words to describe what he’s feeling in this moment. But one thing is for certain, for better or worse, you’ve well and truly upended Max Verstappen’s world.

***

Max remains rooted in place long after you’ve departed, his office now eerily silent in your absence. He should feel relieved to have some peace and quiet again after that … emotional encounter.

Yet instead of settling back into his usual all-consuming work flow, he finds his mind stubbornly replaying the scene on an endless, maddening loop.

The desperation etched onto your delicate features. The way your frame practically vibrated with barely-constrained anguish. The broken, pleading sound of your voice as you begged for his mercy ...

Despite his best efforts to dismiss it, the memory of your raw vulnerability has burrowed its way under Max’s skin, taking up an unwelcome residence. It picks and nags at the edges of his consciousness no matter how much he wills it away.

He has witnessed similar breakdowns from countless employees over the years — grown men and women brought to sniveling tatters by his uncompromising demands. But none of them elicited the same … response within him.

None of them made something twist so peculiarly in Max’s chest, unleashing that brief yet startling flicker of empathy from whatever dark crevice it lurks.

Gritting his teeth, Max paces behind his desk in tight, agitated circles. He prides himself on being a merciless pragmatist, unmoved by emotional pleas or babelling outbursts. Whatever decisions he makes are calculated toward the maximum profit potential and bottom line, end of story.

So why does this one case, this one instance of showing a bare modicum of human compassion, insist on gnawing at him so persistently? It makes no logical sense, no matter how he tries to mentally contort it.

Perhaps that’s the core issue — that for once in his life, Max’s motivations weren’t born strictly of logic or financial incentive. Something else had escaped from beneath, something primal and indefinable, when you broke down so nakedly in front of him.

The realization causes Max’s steps to stutter to a halt. His jaw works tensely as he runs a frustrated hand through his brown hair, disheveling the meticulously groomed coif.

He can admit to himself that some base part of his brain had been … affected by the rawness of your emotion. The way you had stripped away all artifice and propriety to plead so urgently and authentically.

Not many people manage to disarm Max Verstappen’s carefully curated expectation filters. But you had blown straight through them without even realizing it, battering down the reinforced walls he builds around his life. Just by being horrifically, unguardedly human.

It’s both impressive and deeply unsettling in equal measure.

Before Max can spiral any further down this rabbit hole of self-reflection, a sharp rap of knuckles against the door jolts him back to awareness. He straightens and clears his throat roughly.

“Come in.” he calls out, already retaking his seat and trying to project an aura of resolute control.

Clara slips into the office, her usual unflappable poise slightly ruffled as she catches the tense atmosphere. “You asked to see me right away, sir?”

“Yes.” Max says brusquely, watching her over steepled fingers. “I need you to do some … discreet digging for me into a personal matter.”

Clara’s perfectly groomed eyebrow arches inquisitively. But to her credit, she doesn’t comment on his evasive phrasing.

“And what exactly am I looking into?”

“The employee who was just in my office seeking leave.” he explains curtly. “The one with the hospitalized child. I need you to find out everything you can — where the child is being treated, their condition, prognosis, all of it.”

Clara’s perfectly glossed lips purse ever so slightly. “You’re aware I can’t exactly go through official medical channels without violating all sorts of privacy laws ...”

“I’m fully aware.” Max interjects with a curt wave of his hand. “Which is why you’ll have to take a more … unconventional approach. I don’t particularly care what methods you have to employ, just get me those details by the end of the day.”

His assistant regards him silently for a long beat, as if trying to suss out his motivations. Max meets her contemplative look with an unwavering stare of his own.

Finally, Clara gives a tight nod of understanding. “Consider it done, sir.”

With that, she pivots on the towering heel of her Louboutin and sees herself out of the office, the click of her footsteps rapidly retreating down the hall.

Max lets out a slow exhale, alone with his thoughts once more.

What is he doing? This bizarre crusade is so wildly outside of his typical conduct and practices. The lengths he’s going to, all for the sake of some random underling’s personal crisis ...

A smart, calculated part of his brain recognizes this entire situation as a fool’s errand, a waste of time and resources. He should be devoting every ounce of his focus toward extricating the Chinese investment group from the Brighton deal before their next earnings call.

And yet, he can’t seem to fully let this go. Your haunted, hopeless expression keeps flickering through his mind’s eye. The memory of your tears soaking into his suit lapel as you clung to him with a desperation that shook something deep within him.

It’s almost as if his body is acting of its own accord, driven by some urge he can’t fully parse or control. Like a murmured voice insistently compelling him to … to what? Help you? Offer some vague sense of solace or security?

The thought is patently ludicrous, and Max scoffs audibly at his own melodrama. Get a grip, he chides himself sternly. Since when do you care about coddling your peons?

He forcefully shakes off the uncharacteristic reverie and turns back to the stacks of paperwork and documents splayed across his desk. Focusing intently on running new financial projections for Q3, he manages to bury himself in the work for a solid two hours.

He’s in the midst of furiously scribbling margin and revenue notes when the trill of the phone line cuts through his concentration. A glance at the caller ID has him resisting the urge to sigh.

“Clara.” he answers crisply, leaning back in his leather chair. “I trust you’ve made progress?”

“Indeed.” comes the smooth reply, devoid of inflection as always. “Though I should warn you, some of these details are … concerning.”

Something tightens in Max’s chest, but he quickly tamps it down. “Just lay it all out for me. No need to editorialize.”

“Very well.” Clara acquiesces. “So the child, a three-year-old daughter, is currently a patient at Lennox Hill Hospital here in the city. According to my sources, she was admitted five weeks ago after experiencing severe seizures and hallucinations. An MRI revealed she has a large mass-”

“Let me stop you right there.” Max interjects, his brows furrowing. Even he can recognize those are less than encouraging signs. “What’s the official diagnosis then?”

“Grade IV glioblastoma.” Clara replies flatly. “One of the most aggressive malignant brain tumors, especially in children her age.”

A terse silence falls between them as the weight of that diagnosis sinks in. Grade IV … practically a death sentence wrapped up in clinical terminology. Max finds his hand unconsciously clenching the arm of his chair.

“And her prospects?” He finally prompts gruffly. “What’s the … prognosis for her case?”

Clara doesn’t answer right away. Over the line, he can hear her exhale slowly, a rare tell of emotional discomfort from his typically unflappable assistant.

“From what my contact at Lennox Hill said … if we’re talking full disclosure?” Her customary professionalism wavers slightly as her voice grows hushed. “They’ve given her three months at most, sir. Maybe less, if another seizure or bleed occurs before then.”

The words hang in the air like a guillotine blade against Max’s neck. Suddenly, all those intrusive mental flashes of your inconsolable despair take on a sharper, even more heartrending clarity.

Of course you were devastated, he realizes with startling empathy. How could any mother face their child’s death sentence with any measure of composure?

An unexpected swell of emotion rises in Max’s throat and he has to blink rapidly to keep it at bay. Now isn’t the time for such indulgences.

“Thank you, Clara.” he manages in a rough baritone. “That will be all for now.”

He ends the call without waiting for a response, abruptly severing the connection.

Alone once more, Max slumps back against the leather upholstery, an uncharacteristic weariness settling into his bones. He reaches up to loosen his already disheveled tie, suddenly feeling stifled within the confines of his suit.

Three months. Three paltry months for a precious young life to be snatched away before it ever really began. His jaw clenches hard.

That’s unacceptable. Not just unfair, but a complete and total injustice to all that is right and good in this world.

No child should have to suffer like that … and certainly no mother should have to face a future of unimaginable grief and emptiness once her only family is gone. Not if there was anything to be done about it.

And, at the end of the day, Max Verstappen has the means to quite literally move mountains with his wealth and influence.

An idea begins to blossom in his mind — one that feels daring and reckless and so utterly unlike his usual business-oriented self. But he finds himself drawn to it with a singleminded resolve he can’t quite explain.

Jaw set, Max snatches up his phone and punches in a number he never thought he’d use outside of donor galas.

“Roland? Max Verstappen here.” he says gruffly when the line picks up. “I need you to connect me directly with someone in Sloan Kettering’s pediatric oncology department ...”

Half an hour and multiple calls later, Max is finally patched through to one of the top clinical researchers in the field: Dr. Spencer Paulson.

“Dr. Paulson, thank you for making time on such short notice.” Max says, his tone polished yet clipped. “To cut right to it, I was recently made aware of a … sensitive case involving a terminal pediatric patient and some rather bleak estimated survival rates.”

Without preamble, he lays out what little he knows about your daughter — the diagnosis, the staging, the Lennox Hill prognosis that has already written her off for dead. All throughout, the doctor on the other end of the line remains grimly silent.

“So in your expert opinion.” Max finishes, realizing his hand has unconsciously tightened into a white-knuckled fist. “What would you say her realistic prospects for meaningful treatment or survival are?”

There’s a pregnant pause, then a grim sigh filters through the tinny line. “Based on what you’ve told me … I’m afraid the prognosis does indeed sound dire. Grade IV glioblastomas in children under five have approximately a 5% survival rate past twelve months with conventional treatment regimens.”

Max clenches his teeth, brutally unsurprised yet still floored by the frank assessment. Moments ago, he had still been clinging to a fool’s hope.

“However.” Dr. Paulson continues, his tone brightening slightly. “We do currently have an … experimental trial ongoing that might be an outside option to explore.”

Something akin to hope flutters in Max’s chest. “I’m listening.”

“Well, to put it simply, we’ve had some promising early results adapting viral gene therapies to target and destroy these aggressive brain tumor cells in young patients.” the doctor explains, shifting into a more clinical, lecture-style delivery.

“By modifying and re-engineering certain viruses to bind only to the specific mutated RNA and protein markers found in diseases like glioblastomas, we can theoretically use those same viruses as a delivery vector. One that can slip past the blood-brain barrier and directly infect the cancerous cells with a sort of … controlled payload, if you will.”

Max nods along, his mind working furiously to keep up with the technical jargon. “Some kind of treatment regimen then? Drugs or radiation therapy delivered directly to the tumor site?”

“Precisely.” Dr. Paulson confirms approvingly. “Only we’ve expanded past just chemo and gamma rays as the options. Thanks to the pioneering work of doctors like Bert Jacobs, we’ve now created an entirely new frontier of cancer treatments centered around gene therapy and mRNA editing.”

He rattles off a dizzying litany of polysyllabic scientific terminology that sails completely over Max’s head. Not that it matters — his focus is fully captured by the notes of guarded optimism finally creeping into Paulson’s voice.

“Of course, this is all still highly experimental. We’ve only managed to achieve remission in a handful of trial cases thus far.” the doctor cautions. “And we have no idea if the viral vector we’ve engineered will be equally effective against every variation of cancerous mutation out there.”

Max nods impatiently, waving a hand as if to physically shoo away the vague caveats. “I appreciate the need for clinical hedging, doctor. But let’s cut right to the heart of the matter.”

He draws in a fortifying breath. “If you were to take on this little girl as a patient, deploy these … gene therapy regimens of yours … would you give her a legitimate chance? At treatment, remission, survival?”

There’s a pregnant pause, as if Dr. Paulson is carefully considering the ethical ramifications of his answer. Then, “If she meets the selection criteria and baseline health conditions … and we get a bit of luck on our side ...” Another sigh, heavy with the weight of his responsibilities. “Then I’d say we would have a fighting chance, yes.”

Those five simple words crash over Max with the force of a tidal wave, hitting him squarely in the chest.

A chance. At life. At making it past those grim, dire prognoses.

After several moments of stunned silence, Max finally finds his voice.

“Say no more, doctor. Whatever it costs — money, time, logistics — none of it matters. I want this treatment option fully activated and prioritized immediately. Spare no expense, I’ll take care of the bill.” He utters the words with the same decisive confidence he handles his billion-dollar business dealings.

Because in this moment, it doesn’t feel like just some impulsive, emotionally-driven whim. Helping your innocent child — ensuring she gets the fighting chance she deserves?

It feels like the only choice he can possibly make.

***

You sit hunched in the hard, plastic visitor’s chair, your body angled protectively towards the small hospital bed. Despite the tubes and wires snaking from her fragile limbs, your daughter appears almost peaceful in her restless slumber.

She always was such a sound sleeper as a baby, you reminisce wistfully. Remembering how you’d regularly creep into the nursery just to watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest, assuring yourself she was still breathing.

Even back then, the ever-present fear of something going horribly wrong never truly left you. The world is far too cruel a place to let a mother relax, no matter how deeply you wish you could.

One slender hand rests atop the thin bedsheet covering your little girl, your thumb tracing soothing circles along her tiny knuckles. A silent, simple gesture of tenderness you hope she can feel even in sleep. If only you could so easily soothe away her pain and suffering as you could your own.

The quiet flutter of the heart rate monitor keeps beat, each mechanical beep another hammer striking your already shattered soul. You want to feel relieved, blessed even, that it continues that steady cadence. Instead, you only feel exhausted hollowness.

Because this morning, the doctors came to “discuss options.” As if their clinical detachment could soften the blow of learning your child is well and truly out of miracles.

“We’ve run every available scan and lab test.” Dr. Rhodes had said, failing to meet your desperate gaze. “I’m so very sorry, but the tumor isn’t responding to any of our treatments. At this point, we have to start considering ...”

You hadn’t let him finish, couldn’t let those hateful, unthinkable words pass his lips. Palliative care. Hospice. Just give up and let nature take its inevitable, brutal course while they pumped her full of numbing opiates so she could “comfortably” slip away.

The rage and anguish had bubbled up from some primal pit within your guts, hot and viscous like magma erupting from deep beneath the earth’s crust. You’d screamed incoherent denials until your voice was hoarse, begging and pleading through sobs for them not to take away your only hope.

In the end, they’d sedated your daughter fully so you could “calm down” and “process things rationally.” You know they meant well, trying to spare her from your outburst. But it only compounded your devastation, feeling like they were already treating her as a lost cause no longer worth fighting for.

So here you sit, after untold hours of cycling through various stages of grief, left only with bone-deep weariness cloaked by a fragile veneer of numb acceptance. You dimly wonder if you’ll ever truly feel anything else ever again.

Through the blur of tears constantly stinging your eyes, you keep a silent vigil over your daughter’s bedside. You memorize every delicate sweep of her sooty lashes, the tiny smattering of freckles across her upturned nose. Desperate to commit every last precious detail of her existence to memory before … before ...

A choked sob bubbles up from your chest at the thought, hot and acidic at the back of your throat. You quickly muffle it with the crook of your elbow, determined not to disturb your resting girl with the outward manifestations of your agony.

In through the nose, out through the mouth. An old meditative mantra you try to focus on, struggling to regain control of your tenuous grip on composure. You know your tears and hiccupping gasps for air are only harming yourself at this point. Better to conserve what little physical and mental strength you have left to simply be with your daughter while you still can.

The grief is an ever-churning sea just waiting to drag you under its dark, icy depths. But still you stubbornly tread water, unwilling to fully surrender just yet. Not as long as you can still feel the reassuring thrum of her pulse against your fingertips, a solitary lifeline keeping you tethered to the present.

You aren’t sure how much time stretches in that manner — minutes or hours, you cannot say. The days have all started blurring into one long, endless haze of sleeplessness and overwhelming sorrow.

So when the door to the hospital room suddenly clicks open, the sound manages to penetrate the cotton-muffled fog shrouding your senses.Instantly, you stiffen and blink rapidly, as if only just now awakening to your surroundings.

A stranger stands in the doorway — a tall, slender man in an impeccably tailored suit that looks distinctly out of place amongst the bland, sterile patient rooms. His face is sharp and angular, almost harsh in its sternness if not for the way his brow is furrowed with evident concern.

You open your mouth to ask who he is and what he wants, but he raises a placating hand before you can find your voice.

“Please, don’t be alarmed.” he says, words clipped yet softened slightly. “I know this is a terrible situation, and the absolute last setting you’d want an uninvited visitor.”

Now that he’s closer, you can see behind his obvious affluence lurks a cultured, aloof sort of demeanor. There’s no outward malice or disrespect in his manner, but he carries himself like someone long accustomed to privileges and deference. The sight of him sets you even more on edge amid your emotional rawness.

“My name is Spencer Paulson.” the man presses on, taking a few measured steps further into the room. “I’m actually a doctor, Ms ...”

“Y/N.” you automatically supply, dredging up the remnants of social graces. “Y/N L/N. And this is … this is my daughter, Olivia.”

Your voice cracks ever so slightly on her name, heated moisture already welling behind your eyes once more. You quickly dab at their corners with the sleeve of your worn cardigan, determined not to dissolve into fresh hysterics in front of this absolute stranger.

“Well, Ms. Y/L/N.” the man — Dr. Paulson — says, tone measured. “I realize I’m intruding on a highly stressful situation for you and your family right now. And for that, I truly am sorry.”

His apology seems sincere enough. But wariness still prickles along your nape as your overtired, over-protective instincts flare up. You clutch your daughter’s limp hand in yours a fraction tighter.

“Then if you don’t mind my asking.” you begin in a calculated tone, scrutinizing Paulson carefully. “Why are you here? And what business could possibly bring you to Olivia’s bedside unannounced?”

He regards you silently for a long moment, something inscrutable flickering across his features. When he speaks again, his words are deliberately precise, weighted down by their momentous gravity.

“I was recently contacted by … an interested third party about your daughter’s case.” Paulson explains, clasping his hands behind his back. “I was filled in on the specifics of her diagnosis — glioblastoma, grade four, extremely aggressive and largely unresponsive to standard treatment. Am I correct so far?”

You can only numbly nod, a chill prickling across your flesh. The man’s crisp, clinical recitation of your worst nightmare forces a painful convulsion of renewed heartache.

Paulson seems to catch your distress and quickly presses on. “Right, well, I’m actually here in an official capacity as the Chief of Pediatric Oncology over at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center.”

The words hit you with all the force of a defibrillator charge, jolting your entire frame upright in the hard plastic chair. Your jaw drops open, already fumbling for a desperate reply that will somehow make this all make sense.

But Paulson continues before you can vocalize any of the hundreds of jumbled questions flooding your mind.

“I’ll keep this relatively simple, Ms. Y/L/N.” he says, holding up a forestalling hand. “My team at Sloan Kettering recently received permission to transfer your daughter over to our care as soon as logistically possible. You see, we’ve been working on an experimental new treatment protocol — a form of gene therapy designed to treat even the most aggressive, mutation-riddled forms of cancers like Olivia’s brain tumor.”

You blink owlishly, unable to fully process the onslaught of technical jargon being leveled at you. All you can do is continue sitting there, stunned into silence as the doctor launches into an almost dizzying explanation of re-engineered viruses, targeted gene editing, and “controlled payloads” being essentially the extent of modern medicine.

“... And while the trial is still in its early stages, we’ve actually already achieved partial and even full remission in a few key pediatric cases remarkably similar to that of your daughter.” Paulson continues, his tone growing faintly tinged with optimism and something akin to pride. “Which is why we’re reasonably confident Olivia could be an excellent candidate for our experimental therapies, if you allow it.”

He lets the weight of that statement hang in the air between you, watching you carefully for any visible reaction. But you’re frozen, fighting between warring tides of soul-rending hope and knee-jerk cynicism.

After all, you’ve come to reflexively distrust when desperation-stoking scenarios sound too good to be true over the past several torturous weeks. A small, rational voice in the back of your mind pipes up to remind you that you can’t afford to get your hopes up, only to be gutted yet again by the crushing inevitability of disappointment.

But another part of your wearied brain — the part that’s grown so fatigued by the oppressive feeling of hopelessness — recoils at dismissing any potential reprieve from the nightmare, no matter how fanciful or far-fetched.

So instead you hear yourself croaking out a single, wobbling syllable.

“How ...”

Paulson tilts his head inquisitively. “I’m sorry?”

You clear your throat, igniting the spark of desperate yearning flickering to life inside your chest. “How much would … would a treatment like this cost?”

For the first time since barging his way into your fragile world, Paulson’s aristocratic features twist into an unmistakable grimace. He lets out a tight sigh, clearly recognizing the gravity behind your simple question.

“Unfortunately, due to the experimental and intensive nature of this therapy … the baseline costs do run relatively high.” he explains in a precise tone, as if trying to distance himself from the crass logistical realities. “If approved for the trial and full treatment regimen, we’re looking at around $1.4 million in projected costs over the first six months alone.”

The astronomical number hits you squarely between the eyes, setting your head swimming with disbelief. One point four … million? The amount is so ludicrously exorbitant that it almost doesn’t seem real.

You open your mouth, fully intending to spit out the derisive scoff that such an impossible ask deserves. No amount of desperate wishing could ever make that attainable for a single, working-class parent already drowning in tens of thousands of medical debt.

But Paulson clearly recognizes the crestfallen defeat settling over your features. Because he quickly rushes ahead with his next words, effectively cutting off any vocal dismissal on your end.

“However, as I mentioned earlier, we did get some … special circumstances greenlighted regarding your daughter’s case.” he says, tone brightening with carefully cultivated hopefulness. “You see, there’s an anonymous benefactor who’s agreed to cover the full cost of treatment on a … philanthropic basis, let’s call it.”

The words punch you directly in the gut, momentarily robbing your lungs of oxygen like a cruel sucker-punch. You blink dazedly up at Paulson, struggling to make sense of what he’s saying through the roaring static in your ears.

“I … I don’t understand.” you manage to stammer out. “Someone wants to … pay for my daughter? All of it? But why? How could they possibly-”

“Hey now, none of that.” Paulson cuts you off, his voice softening with what might be the first hints of empathy and warmth creeping in. “The why doesn’t matter right now — only that it’s been arranged at no cost to you or your family.”

He moves closer then, resting one hand on your shoulder in an unexpected gesture of kindness that makes you flinch despite yourself. Up close, you can see the sincerity shining in his hazel eyes, pleading for you to simply accept this incredible parting of the dark clouds that have shrouded your existence.

“I know this is … well, frankly astounding news on top of everything else you’re already dealing with.” Paulson continues, giving your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “And please, believe me, we want to avoid overwhelming you with undue complications. For now, I think it’s enough to simply feel that spark of hope again, yes?”

Despite your best efforts to tamp down the desperate yearning swelling in your chest, you find yourself nodding mutely in agreement. Because in this moment, you understand exactly the miraculous implications of his words.

After so many agonizing weeks of feeling utterly powerless, of watching your baby girl’s life slowly ebb away before your very eyes … there is a chance. An opportunity, a fighting possibility that everything won’t end in crushing grief and irredeemable sorrow.

And even just that single glowing ember of hope, no matter how faint, is enough to shatter the dam holding back your turbulent sea of pent-up emotion. Paulson watches in quiet acceptance as you finally break down in great, shuddering sobs — only this time, they’re threaded with the catharsis of relief.

Happy tears stream down your blotchy cheeks, unchecked and convulsive. You press your face into the cool, starchy sheets of Olivia’s bed, body wracked with a release of tension weeks in the making. It feels as though you’re being simultaneously unmade and reborn in this singular, messy instance.

Through the storm of your breakdown, you’re dimly aware of Paulson stepping away to give you privacy. And then, just before he slips from the room entirely, his composed baritone rings out one last time.

“We’ll make all the arrangements to transport Olivia to Sloan Kettering as soon as possible. Get her started on this treatment regimen right away, alright?”

You can’t even summon the words to respond, only nodding rapidly between hiccuping bursts of gasping and sobbing. But just before he exits, shutting the door silently behind him, you catch Paulson’s murmur.

“There’s a fighting chance now. That’s all any of us can really ask for ...”

***

Max rakes a hand through his meticulously styled hair as he strides down the sterile hallway of Sloan Kettering’s pediatric oncology ward. His eyes scan the room numbers tacked to each door, searching for the one he was provided.

456 … 458… ah, there — 460. Max pauses outside the closed entry, squaring his shoulders as he tries to tamp down the uncharacteristic fluttering of nerves in his stomach. Taking a fortifying breath, he gives the door a perfunctory series of raps with his knuckles.

Almost immediately, a muffled voice filters through from inside — your voice, he recognizes with a start. “Come in!”

Max’s brow furrows momentarily at the warm, chipper lilt to your tone. So unlike the brittle, devastated one he had heard that fateful day in his office. Though he supposes that’s only fitting, given the radically shifted circumstances these past several weeks.

Pushing his hesitation aside, Max takes the invitation and pushes into the hospital room. You’re seated in one of the uncomfortable plastic visitor’s chairs, wearing a soft cardigan and jeans — by all appearances the very portrait of a typical doting mother.

Well, not entirely typical. Because curled up on the bed next to you is a tiny, doe-eyed little girl whose resemblance leaves no question as to her relation to you.

Olivia.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, you glance up — and immediately do a double-take, eyes going comically wide. “M-Mr. Verstappen?” You splutter out, frozen halfway out of your chair like a hostess belatedly remembered her manners. “I … I didn’t realize you were-”

Max holds up a hand to stop the tide of nervous rambling, inexplicably touched by your visible shock. The effect is only compounded when Olivia shifts on the bed, eyeing him owlishly from beneath the cuddly weight of a stuffed unicorn nearly as large as she is.

“It’s quite alright, Ms. Y/L/N.” he says, offering you the barest hint of a disarming smile. An expression he finds shockingly easy to produce given the scene before him. “I admit I hadn’t warned you about my visit in advance.”

He pauses there, suddenly realizing the reason for his impromptu trip isn’t entirely certain, even to himself. It had begun as little more than a nagging impulse tugging at him throughout his days, growing more persistent and insistent until he finally gave in and scheduled some time away from the office.

And now that he’s here, standing in this dimly-lit hospital room, Max feels strangely … unmoored. Adrift in a situation his renowned business acumen didn’t even begin to equip him for handling.

But then your daughter is shifting again, curiosity winning out over her bashfulness as she props herself up on her elbows. “Who’re you?” She pipes up in a tiny, raspy voice that somehow bypasses Max’s usually implacable defenses.

Something pangs oddly in his chest at the innocent inquiry. He finds himself crouching into an automatic squat, bringing himself level with the bedside so he can better meet Olivia’s inquisitive gaze.

“You can just call me Max.” he says, injecting a gentle warmth into his tone that he didn’t even realize he was capable of. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

It occurs to him then that he’s been subconsciously clutching the bouquet of flowers still in his off-hand — an overly ornate spray of exotic lilies and birds of paradise blooms that probably cost more than a month’s rent for most families. He had ordered them from the city’s most exclusive florist boutique on pure aesthetic impulse, without pausing to consider the message such an excessive display might send.

This morning, holding the massive arrangement felt appropriate, a reflection of Max’s stature as a dominant business magnate. But now, watching Olivia’s large eyes track the oversized bouquet with open-mouthed awe, he feels suddenly self-conscious.

Hoping to recover some sense of propriety, Max clears his throat and holds the flowers out in front of him.

“These are, ah, for your mother.” he explains gruffly, avoiding your questioning gaze burning against the side of his face. “A small token of … of appreciation, one might say.”

He isn’t quite sure what prompts the carefully worded addition — perhaps an instinctive reflex to avoid showing any overt sentimentality. But either way, you seem to simply accept the generous offering with bemused grace.

“Thank you, Mr. Versta-” You quickly correct yourself at his mild arched brow. “Er, Max. They’re absolutely lovely.”

You bend to inhale the rich floral perfume, eyelids fluttering in evident delight at the fragrance. Max watches the childlike awe play out across your soft features, feeling an odd sort of satisfaction settle in his chest.

Having given you the flowers, he rises to his feet once more with a put-upon sigh of effort. Every bit of spoiled opulence and bravado that usually comes as second-nature to Max.

And yet, none of it lands quite with the affected solemnity he’s accustomed to projecting. Not when Olivia’s sweet-faced attention is still utterly transfixed by his every move and micro-expression.

Your daughter still hasn’t looked away from him even as you arrange the flower vase on her bedside table, entranced in a way only the very young can be. It’s … disarming, to say the least. But not entirely unpleasant, Max finds himself admitting.

“I, ah, got something for you as well, Olivia.” he announces impulsively. From behind his back, he produces a floppy-limbed teddy bear easily half her size.

He’s not even sure what prompted him to purchase such a pedestrian sort of toy. All he knows is that he saw the stuffed creature in the hospital gift shop window on his way in, and some impulse compelled him to acquire it for reasons he still can’t understand.

But any lingering uncertainty fades from his mind like a passing cloud when Olivia lets out an audible gasp of delight. Her little hands instantly shoot out, making desperate grabbing motions at the plush offering.

“Ohmygosh, thank you!” The words tumble out in a breathless, childish rush. Before Max can even react, she leans precariously over the edge of the bed, arms outstretched and grasping imploringly.

On instinct, Max takes a half-step forward, carefully depositing the stuffed bear into Olivia’s waiting embrace to avoid any accidents. She immediately snatches it to her chest, burying her face in the softness of its soft fabric with a contented hum that seems to vibrate in Max’s very soul.

He swallows hard past the unexpected lump that forms in his throat, watching a child delight in something so simple and innocent. How long has it been since he allowed himself to find joy in the pure, unbridled way that Olivia does? Far too long, he’s forced to admit.

Clearing his throat with an awkward rumble, Max tears his gaze away from your daughter’s cuddling. He levels his focus back onto you instead. Only then does he realize you’ve been staring at him throughout the entire interaction, an unreadable look painted across your face.

“I trust the medical team has kept you informed of Olivia’s progress so far.” he prompts in his usual clipped tone, struggling to reassert some sense of distancing professionalism. “I don’t have any special insight into the procedural specifics, but from what I’ve gathered, positive results are steadily accumulating, yes?”

You blink once, almost like shaking yourself out of a reverie, before offering a slow nod in response. “Y-Yes, you could definitely say that.”

Something sparks behind your gaze then — some dawning realization creeping over your delicate features. “In fact, Dr. Paulson himself said Olivia seems to have responded better to the gene therapy than almost any other patient yet. Her tumor reduction trend is so far exceeding their best models that they’re actually considering tweaking the formula for future tria-”

You abruptly cut yourself off, lips pursing into a tight line as you turn your focus back to Max. He holds your stare evenly, waiting for whatever it is you seem to be mustering the courage to say.

Then, almost in a whisper, “Max … are you the anonymous donor paying for all of this?”

The words hang in the air like a physical force between you, so full of implication and unvoiced emotion that even Max can’t find a way to deflect them. He stares back at you, utterly disarmed beneath the intensity of your scrutinizing gaze.

For a long beat, only the hum of hospital machines and equipment fills the weighty silence. Max’s jaw works tensely as he considers how best to respond. He wants to shrug it off, make some sardonic quip to reestablish the carefully curated aloofness that serves him so well in the business world.

But then Olivia lets out another joyous giggle as she squishes the plush bear’s paw, completely enraptured and undistracted by the silent standoff occurring across her bedside. And all of Max’s formidable defenses and calculated denials abruptly dissolve in the face of such childlike innocence.

So instead of evasion, he answers your question with a small, barely perceptible nod and a softly murmured, “Yes.”

He doesn’t have time to brace himself before you’re suddenly surging up out of the chair with a wounded cry. And then your arms are flung around his neck, your body slamming against his chest as you pull Max into a fierce and entirely unexpected hug.

The impact momentarily stuns him, freezing Max in place with his arms held useless at his sides. He can’t remember the last time someone dared to initiate such a brazen display of physical contact — perhaps ever, now that he racks his brain.

But just as he contemplates gently extricating himself from your clutches, your ragged voice rises to his ear in a trembling whisper.

“Thank you.” you’re whispering over and over like a fevered prayer. “Thank you, thank you, thank you ...”

With each impassioned repetition, Max can feel more of the tension slowly leeching from his frame. He finds himself sinking bonelessly into your embrace, one hand coming to rest against the small of your back in an automatic gesture of soothing.

Soon enough, heaving sobs are wracking your entire body against his. Hot tears quickly begin to soak through the fabric of his expensive dress shirt as you cling to him with the desperation of a fallen angel clawing her way back into grace. But Max doesn’t pull away, doesn’t extricate himself or put distance between your respective roles as worker and corporate king.

Instead, in a move even he can’t fully explain or justify, his free hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in even tighter as you keen your grateful relief against the column of his throat.

“It’s … quite alright.” he finds himself rumbling in a low, soothing voice completely at odds with his usual persona. “No thanks are necessary. All that matters now is ensuring your daughter’s full and complete recovery … at whatever cost required.”

He isn’t sure whether his throwaway platitude is meant more for his benefit or yours at this point. But either way, you show no signs of releasing him from the crushing strength of your desperate clutch anytime soon. So Max does the only thing left available to him — he simply lets you cry and shake and cling to him for as long as you need.

Until finally, with a handful of watery hiccups and sniffles, you manage to tilt your blotchy face up towards his.

“I … I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.” you murmur throatily. “For giving Olivia more than just some faint hope, but an actual chance to grow up and live the life she deserves.”

Tenderness isn’t something that often breaks through Max Verstappen’s shroud of callous indifference. He can count on one hand the number of times in his adult life he’s allowed himself to indulge in such sentimental trivialities.

But gazing into your puffy, reddened eyes, he finds he can’t quite summon any bitter cynicism. Instead, his voice remains low with a soothing gentleness that feels almost foreign falling from his lips.

“The only form of repayment I’ll require.” he says finally, “is your permission to take you to dinner.”

He blinks once, almost taken aback by the words that slipped unbidden from his throat. But you, for your part, seem equally dazed as your brows knit in bewilderment.

“Dinner? But … I haven’t left Olivia in weeks.”

At that, Max manages a wry smile, feeling as if he’s regained at least some fraction of his footing and composure. “Of course I don’t expect you to. I simply meant for the three of us to dine together … here, in the hospital. My treat, naturally.”

Your fingers unconsciously clench tighter into the fabric of his ruined dress shirt. But even with the hint of embarrassment pinkening your cheeks, he can see what looks almost like … excitement? Perhaps even coyness sparking behind your gaze before you avert your eyes demurely.

“I … yes, of course.” you murmur, sounding almost bashful. “We would be honored.”

Max simply nods, committing every little part of the interaction to his increasingly scattered memory for later dissection. For now, he withdraws himself from the gentle circle of your arms with what he hopes appears a natural sort of casualness.

“Very good then,” is all he finds himself able to say in response. “I shall make the necessary arrangements and return shortly with something to eat.”

With that, he turns on his heel and strides towards the exit, throwing one final look over his shoulder. You’re already back in your chair at Olivia’s bedside, shooting him another shy little smile as you start to idly stroke your now dozing daughter’s hair.

And before Max even fully processes the impulse, he feels the corner of his mouth tugging upwards into a warm half-grin in response.

A expression so unfamiliar on his usually dour features that it renders him momentarily unrecognizable, even to himself.

Shaking his head as if to cast off the dizzy sense of displacement, Max continues out into the hallway. He stubbornly refuses to dwell too much on the stirrings of contentment radiating through his chest.

Such indulgent notions are highly unseemly for a man of his stature and influence, after all. Better to ignore them entirely, as he always has.

Though even as the thought crosses his mind, Max finds himself picking up his pace with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. Because somewhere along the way, he realizes ...

Denial doesn’t appear to be an option anymore.

***

Two Years Later

The ornate grandfather clock in the corner ticks rhythmically, its pendulum swinging with measured precision. Max’s gaze flicks over to it briefly before returning to the stack of documents before him. Numbers and figures blur together as his eyes scan the pages, his brow furrowed in concentration.

A giggle from the corner of the room breaks his focus. He glances up to see Olivia sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet, curls bouncing as she plays with her Barbie dolls. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips at the sight of her innocent joy.

“What are you up to over there, kleine muis?” He asks, his voice gruff but tinged with affection.

Olivia looks up, her eyes sparkling. “I’m having a tea party with Barbie and Ken.” she explains, brandishing the dolls. “Would you like to join us, Maxie?”

Max chuckles softly. “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I have a bit too much work to do for a tea party right now.”

“Okay.” Olivia says cheerfully, returning to her imaginary festivities.

You had dropped Olivia off at Max’s office after her kindergarten class, needing to rush to an urgent marketing meeting. Max had insisted on keeping her company until you returned, despite the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

He watches Olivia play, mesmerized by her ability to create entire worlds from mere toys and her vibrant imagination. Her carefree laughter is a soothing balm against the chaos of his day.

After a while, Olivia looks up again. “Maxie, can I ask you something?”

“Of course, lieverd. What is it?”

Olivia fidgets with one of the doll’s dresses. “Today at school, we had to draw pictures of our families.”

Max’s heart constricts slightly at the innocuous statement, but he manages a reassuring smile. “Did you have fun with that activity?”

Olivia nods enthusiastically. “Uh-huh. I drew me, Mommy, and you.”

The words hit Max like a physical blow, stealing his breath away. He stares at Olivia, his eyes widening as a storm of emotions swirls within him.

Olivia, oblivious to his inner turmoil, continues, “But then Timmy said that you’re not really my daddy since we don’t have the same last name. Is that true, Maxie? Are you not my daddy?”

Max swallows hard, his throat constricting. He had grown to love this child as if she were his own flesh and blood, but he had never dared to assume the sacred title of father. The realization that Olivia saw him that way, despite the lack of biological ties, threatens to shatter his carefully constructed walls.

Pushing back from his desk, he rises to his feet and makes his way over to where Olivia sits. He lowers himself to the floor, his movements stiff and hesitant. Olivia watches him with curious eyes, still clutching her dolls.

“Olivia.” he begins, his voice thick with emotion he struggles to contain. “Even though we don’t share the same name, and I didn’t ...” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I didn’t have a hand in bringing you into this world, you are every bit as much my daughter as if you were my own.”

Olivia tilts her head slightly, considering his words. “So, I can call you Daddy?”

The simple question unlocks something deep within Max’s core, a part of himself he had locked away long ago. He feels moisture prickling at the corners of his eyes, an unfamiliar sting that he doesn’t fight.

“Yes, kleine muis.” he whispers, his voice wavering. “I would be honored if you called me Daddy.”

Without warning, Olivia drops her dolls and flings her small arms around Max’s neck, hugging him tightly. Max freezes for a moment, unaccustomed to such open displays of affection, before melting into the hug. He wraps his arms around Olivia’s tiny frame, holding her close as if she might slip away at any moment.

They stay like that for long minutes, Max’s shoulders trembling slightly as the dam he had so carefully constructed finally cracks. Tears slip silently down his cheeks, mingling with the softness of Olivia’s hair as he buries his face against her.

At last, Olivia pulls back, her eyes shining with joy. “I love you, Daddy.” she says simply, the words reverberating through Max’s very soul.

He manages a watery smile, brushing away the dampness on his cheeks. “And I love you, lieverd. More than you could ever know.”

Olivia beams at him before scrambling to her feet. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She darts over to her little backpack, rummaging through it eagerly.

Max watches her, his heart still thundering in his chest from the whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. He had built an empire, commanded boardrooms with an iron fist, and struck fear into the hearts of grown men … yet this innocent child had disarmed him completely.

“Here it is!” Olivia exclaims, returning with a piece of paper clutched in her small fist. She holds it out to Max, beaming. “For you, Daddy.”

With trembling hands, Max takes the drawing. A bright smile breaks across his face as he studies the crude but endearing figures — stick figures, but he can clearly make out Olivia, you, and himself, joined by vibrant swirls of color.

“It’s beautiful.” he murmurs, his fingers tracing over the lines with a tenderness he reserves only for her. “Thank you.”

Over the next few days, Max has the drawing professionally framed, the simple piece of artwork taking pride of place on the wall of his office. Whenever his gaze falls upon it, his heart swells with a love and sense of purpose that had been missing for far too long.

Beside the framed drawing hangs his business degree, a symbol of his power and influence in the corporate world. Yet, it is Olivia’s artwork that holds the most meaning, a reminder of what truly matters in this life.

Because Max is many things — a captain of industry, a force to be reckoned with, a man who has clawed his way to the top through sheer grit and determination.

But most importantly, he is a father.

And he has never been more proud of any achievement than to call himself Olivia’s daddy.

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming SMAU - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival? (smau edition)

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver!reader

fc: various, just pretend they're all the same person

a/n: i kinda love this fic wayyy too much to let it go so soon, so I decided to make a smau version for your enjoyment!

written

masterlist

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 737,602 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Didn't go how we planned, but grateful to snatch a point. Congrats to Charles for the home race win!

view all comments

charles_leclerc: thank you!! can't wait to celebrate later!

yourusername: lmk when and where and i'll be there!!

user1: wdym my two fav drivers are definitely about to get plastered together??

user2: they've been friends since she broke into f1, only makes sense they would user3: yeah "friends" he's been in love with her since he saw her for the first time

user2: no.

maxverstappen1: over/under on how long it takes for her to get ready? line is at 2.5 hours

logansargeant: over

landonorris: over

oscarpiastri: over

redbullracing: over

user4: there's no way she really takes THAT long

logansargeant: you'd be surprised

twitter & max's texts

liked by user1, user2, and 36,583 others

f1gossip: some of the drivers out and about in Monaco celebrating Charles' home win!

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user5: whoever let lando dj needs a RAISE

user6: i heard logan and oscar were also there!

user7: is it just me or do charles and y/n look weirdly close together??

user3: im telling you guys there's got to be SOMETHING going on between them

user2: again, guys and girls can be just friends.

user6: it's also a club. they're gonna be packed together

user8: i don't even want to know how much money they spent

monza media day

liked by: logansargeant, francolapinto and 673,842 others

tagged: logansargeant, francolapinto

yourusername: wdym i'm now the only one here repping the red, white n blue?? but in all reality, it's been an honor getting to know you Logan, you'll always be my best friend & I can't wait to see what you do in the future!!

but welcome to the grid Franco! you've got some tough shoes to fill

view all comments

logansargeant: thank you y/n. gonna miss you <3

yourusername: at least now you wont have to spend the 4th in the UK... again...

francolapinto: gracias y/n! No puedo esperar a ver qué trae el resto de la temporada!

yourusername: i have no idea what you just said but yes!!

user9: oh she's just like us

user10: girl is down bad

user2: @/user3 no like from Charles... how are you feeling after this?

user3: by the end of this season i'll be yelling i told you so from the rooftops

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 987,325 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing: The queen of COTA has arrived! 🇺🇸

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user11: ugh she's glowing

user12: her austin looks always slay

user3: CHARLES IS BACK IN THE LIKES! I REPEAT CHARLES IS BACK!!

user2: you weren't kidding when you said you didn't give up hope

maxverstappen1: you guys better not be plotting to get me in a cowboy hat

yourusername: pffffft why would we do that??

redbullracing: fine, we'll go put it away...again...

charles_leclerc: if you need someone to dress up, i know a guy

user13: omg stand up king, this isn't even y/n's insta

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc wdym "you know a guy" you couldn't even wear your hat properly

liked by charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli and 985,432 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, texasfootball

yourusername: hook 'em 🤘

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texaslonghorns: it was a pleasure to have you! same time next year?

yourusername: you know it! 🫡

texasfootball: thanks for the support! we'll have to get you suited up next year

yourusername: as long as i don't get tackled im yours

user14: awh y/n and charles are already starting to adopt the 2025 rookies

oscarpiastri: i do not need any more siblings

charles_leclerc: thx for showing me the joys of college football 🧡

yourusername: anytime charlie!!!

user15: CHARLIE?? girl WHAT?

user3: GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 985,920 others

yourusername: P1 baby!! It's always special to race at home and being able to win it means even more! A weekend I'll forever remember ❤️🤍💙

view all comments

redbullracing: congrats y/n!! a win well deserved!

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: honor to be on that podium with you! let's run it back in vegas

yourusername: only in vegas??

maxverstappen: your ego is gonna get too big if you win everything else

user16: RAH RAHHHH AMERICA 🦅💥🦅💥🇺🇸

user17: U! S! A! 🇺🇸 U! S! A! 🇺🇸

charles_leclerc: congrats on the win!! now, drinks on me tonight?

user18: oh charles grew a pair

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc actually, i think i still owe you for monaco 😊

user3: 👀👀👀

liked by user3, user2, and 45,832 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1gossip: newest wag(s)?? charles and y/n were caught making out in a club in Austin. The two, along with the rest of the grid were there celebrating y/n's homecoming win. Cheers were heard from the other drivers as the two shared their moment.

view all comments

user19: oh. my. god.

user20: what in the romeo and juliet with a happy ending??

user2: @/user3 go ahead. say it.

user3: @/user2 I TOLD YOU SO. I TOLD YOU ALLLLL SO

user3: I DON'T LOOK CRAZY NOW. I KNEW IT

user21: what does @/redbullracing have to say about this

redbullracing: i'm just glad it isn't one of the mclaren boys mclaren: we wouldn't date you either its fine

want more? @coco-loco-nut wrote a sister story. Check it out!

[starsinthesky5]

the one || joe burrow x reader

description: once he found the one, he never planned on letting go

a/n: this is part 2 of down bad!!! thank you to the anon that wanted to see a part 2 and since she literally gave me the idea for a good chunk of this fic, a special shoutout to @joeys-babe! part 3 will be out soon!

also, i just wanted to say do the things that make you happy and not care about what anyone else says (as our boy has stated a few times). don’t let anyone’s opinions or words dictate what you can and can’t do, especially if they do not know you. do what makes you happy, ALWAYS! that has lowkey been my life motto for the longest time and those are my thoughts as I continue to write and enjoy my time on this app 💗 

okay back to the fic, this takes 2 years after the first part! so you and joe have been together for 2.5 years going on to 3 by now!

warnings: SMUT, language 

word count: 20 k

————————————————————

“Fuck, you feel too good, baby,” you moaned as you closed your eyes and ran your nails along Joe’s muscular back, your pleasure rapidly building inside your sore body. 

“That’s it…that’s it, baby,” Joe moaned. “You’re doing so good,”. 

You and Joe had been wrapped up in bed for over an hour this evening, enjoying all this extra free time you two had together since it was off-season for Joe. You two were planning on spending the evening going through your shared closet and getting rid of things you didn’t need or use anymore, but that only lasted for about 10 minutes since Joe found a pair of new skimpy red lace panties you bought to surprise him later in the week. You could practically see the lust in his eyes as he pulled you right back to bed and you could feel it too because of the way he was going about it. 

“I’m gonna cum again,” you whined while opening your eyes and seeing Joe’s incredibly dark blue eyes filled with raw desire, his hand firmly placed on your waist as he rammed into your core, sending your body further up the bed and a prominent indent being visible in your lower belly because of him. You felt your orgasm building again for the 3rd time this evening and you were practically floating at this point. Joe's stamina was never to be questioned, but he was surprised that you could still keep going even after being so wrung out. 

“Shit..me too,” Joe panted as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck, you look so pretty under me like this…I can’t get enough of you, baby,” he moaned into your ear as he finished the sentence with a nip to your neck. He continued to moan and whimper in your ear, the sounds coming from his mouth literally making you lose all control and innocence. 

“J- Joe,” you whimpered as your legs started to shake, your eyes once again seeing stars. “Fuck..I need you harder,”.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groaned as he felt your walls start to convulse around his thick shaft, your nails clawing at his back which was sure to leave a few red marks you’d take care of later. He started pounding into you with more intensity, making your moans come out in short gasps. 

“Baby, I-,” you hissed before you felt Joe crash his lips against yours, silencing your sounds of pleasure as he moved one of his hands down to your bundle of nerves. You placed a hand into his hair–lightly scratching his scalp in a way you knew he loved–and pulled him closer while his thumb fondled your aching clit. 

A few seconds later, you pulled away from his lips mid-kiss because you felt the imaginary band in your belly snap hard and another wave of pleasure washing over your tired body. “Ah, Joe,” you screamed for maybe the 100th time in the past hour. 

You felt your release soaking both of your lower halves as he kept pounding into your core, his rapid pace not slowing down even though you were experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm and he was making it even more intense. 

“Joe…I C- Can’t…,” you whispered, your eyes screwing shut again as you arched up into him.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered into your ear, his gentle hand sliding along your thigh and down to your calf as he pressed a few loving kisses to your flushed cheeks. A few seconds later, you heard him let out a soft grunt as he emptied himself inside of you, his warm cum coating your walls for the second time tonight yet the feeling was still so pleasing and fresh. 

After giving himself a few moments to regroup, he gently pulled out of you and crashed down right next to you on the bed, both of your bodies incredibly sweaty and covered in body fluids but still stuck to each other like glue. 

“That was hotttt,” Joe smiled as he pulled you into his chest and pulled a blanket over both your bodies after he noticed you shivering a bit because of the cold air hitting you. 

“Very. I don’t think I’ll be able to move for at least another hour,” you laughed as you kissed his chin. “I don’t know what we were thinking when we said we’d be productive this evening,”.

“I mean, we were pretty productive I would say,” Joe smirked. “If the task at hand was baby-making then we were definitely productive,”.

“Joe!” you shrieked, slapping his chest as he continued to laugh above you. 

“Kidding,” he added after he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We can be productive another day. We deserve to have fun and do our thing without worrying about anything,”.

“Won’t argue with you about that one,” you breathed out while closing your eyes and snuggling up to him, his arm wrapping comfortably around you as you both just enjoy each other’s warmth. 

You both stayed like this for a little while longer, Joe tracing invisible shapes onto the soft skin of your back while you played with the wristbands on his other wrist, neither of you saying anything to the other.

Only when Joe spoke up.

“Soooo, earlier I may have booked us a trip to NYC for tomorrow night,” he so casually said to you, your head immediately lifting up from his chest as you were now face to face.

“What?” you asked, incredibly confused and surprised by what he said.

“Yeah,” he smiled at you while moving the falling hair out of your eyes. “We could use a little trip,”.

“To New York,” you said while raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, to New York,” he slowly nodded.

“Any reason in particular? You didn’t even ask me about it like you usually do before planning a trip,” you said, slightly suspicious about the whole thing. Why did he want to go to New York for vacation out of all places? He could’ve picked Florida, Hawaii, or literally anywhere else to escape the coldish March weather. 

“Nope, no reason at all,” he lied while flashing you a smile.

Oh, there was a reason that’s for sure. Joe planned this spur-of-the-moment New York trip because he was going to propose to you this week, and you had no idea. He had known that you’d be his forever from the first time he laid his eyes on you, and your first conversation sealed the deal. From then on, every kiss, every date, every ‘I love you’, and every moment you spent together just made that ever more clear. Although you two hadn’t been together for a super long time, he knew that nothing could compare to the love you two shared–this was it. This is what many people spent years upon years searching for, some even being unable to find this type of connection. He was lucky enough to have found it so quickly and wasn’t planning on letting go of something so rare and priceless. You were the one for him and he had to make it official. 

He spent countless days trying to figure out when and where to do it since he had the ring made and in his safe for about a month and a half; he was growing restless by the minute because every idea he had was cliché or generic. He also hadn’t discussed this with any friends or family yet because he wanted this special moment to just be for you two, so he was completely on his own. He didn’t know what to do until yesterday, a photo popped up in his memories from your trip to New York–2 years ago to be specific–at your best friend Sophia’s Wedding. 

And that’s when it hit him.

This was the same place where Joe first mentioned your future together. 

This was the same place where he told you that he was going to marry you.

This is the same place where Joe was now going to propose to you and really make you the one. It all was going to come full circle. 

“I just thought to surprise you with the trip. I know you usually do the majority of the planning and stuff whenever we go somewhere but I wanted you to take the backseat this time,” he added.

“Okay,” you nodded. “But tomorrow night? What’s the rush?”.

The rush was that he physically could not wait any longer to put that beautiful ring on your finger and call you his fiancé. 

“No rush,” he lied again. “It’s just because we don’t have anything really going on this week so why wait,”.

You thought over it for a few seconds and felt that it would be nice to get away for a little bit and spend some time together outside of Ohio, and New York was one of your favorite spots to visit. And since Joe was planning it all, you could sit back and relax. You needed a break from life for a second and this was exactly what you craved. “I guess,” you giggled as you moved his tousled curls out of his eyes. 

“So, you down?” he asked, searching your tired eyes for a ‘yes’.

“You know I’m down for anything as long as I’m with you,” you lazily smiled before you leaned down to press a sweet kiss to his swollen lips. 

“I love you,” Joe smiled against your lips, your loving eyes staring deeply into his which were mirroring yours. It was finally going to happen, he was finally going to make you his forever. 

“I love you more,” you said while nuzzling your nose against his, his arms wrapping around your waist and his warm body cuddling you again. “I’m so excited,” you giggled as he smothered you with kisses. 

“Me too,” he grinned, internally laughing at how you had 0 idea how excited he really was. He had never been this excited to do something in his life. 

The Next Night - On the plane 

“I always love a good night flight,” you smiled as you got comfy in your seat after you and Joe shared a quick meal while the plane was taking off. 

“And that’s exactly why I called the Private Jet for this specific time,” he grinned as he brought over your wine glass and sat down next to you. 

“Thaank you,” you smiled as you took the glass from him, taking a small sip before handing it to him so he could take one as well. “Something about night flights is just so much more comforting and relaxing,”. 

“Mhm,” he nodded before swallowing the lush wine. “New York looks even better at night so I figured you’d like seeing the city from up here before we go further out and the lights are gone,”.

“Further out?” you asked as you turned your neck to look at him. “Are we not staying in the city?”. 

“Nope,” he grinned. “I got us an Airbnb in Winchester,”.

“...Winchester?” you asked, your brain struggling to remember why that sounded so familiar. You stayed quiet for a few seconds as you tried to recall where you’d heard that from, and Joe stayed quiet so you could figure it out on your own.“Wait, isn’t that the little town where Sophia got married?”.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I remember you saying how much you liked it out there over the city because it was quieter and simpler,”.

“It’s soooo pretty,” you smiled as you closed your eyes and remembered how beautiful the town looked the last time you visited it. “It’s right by the lake, has tons of cute little shops but also all the luxury ones like the city does, and the energy is so romantic. Like rom-com romantic,” you blushed.

“Romantic?” Joe raised an eyebrow and asked. 

“Mhmmm,” you grinned while leaning your head on his shoulder. “Like the vibe is just so-,”.

“Romantic?” he smiled while finishing your sentence. 

“Yeah,” you shyly said. “I don’t know how to put it into words but it’s just so perfect and lovey. No wonder Sophia and Steven chose it as their wedding spot,”. 

“Mhm,” he hummed and hid his extremely big smile by wiping his mouth, trying very hard to not refer to it as your proposal spot. 

“Thanks for doing this, Joe,” you smiled up at him. “I feel like I needed this more than I thought,”.

“Of course, baby,” he said while kissing the side of your head and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “It’s just you and me, just as it should be. No distractions, no outside noise, and definitely nothing around that can ruin this for us,”. 

“Our own little bubble of love. I loveeee it,” you said while leaning into him.

“Good, because I plan on staying in this bubble till I die,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“Hm?” you said because you heard him murmur something but couldn’t quite make it out. 

“Nothing,” he quickly shook his head and brushed off, his cheeks turning a little red since you almost heard what he said. You were about to say something because he was acting a little weird but before you could, he spoke up again. “I um..Do you remember our little yearly game challenge,” he quickly changed the topic so that you wouldn’t dig at the little moment that you just had.

“Listen, I know I lost last time, like really badly lost, but you don’t have to rub it in my face,” you scowled.

“I’m not rubbing it in your face, I just wanted to remind you that since I won, you have to do whatever I say for an entire day,” he smirked, this little condition a small part of tomorrow’s proposal plan. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you groaned while stuffing your face in your hands. 

“By the way, I’m cashing in my ticket tomorrow so be prepared to do whatever I say,” he whispered in your ear. 

“Why tomorrow? We’re on vacation,” you groaned again. “I swear to god if you have me do some stupid shit-,”.

“Nothing stupid, I promise,” he grinned. “You’ll have fun and I’ll make it enjoyable,”.

“This game challenge was a bad idea. You always win and have too much power over me for 24 hours,” you shook your head. 

“Well, from what I remember, right now we’re pretty neck and neck,” he shrugged. “If you wanted to catch up, now is probably your chance. Unless, of course, you’re too lazy,” he teased. 

If there was one thing you hated being called, it was lazy. You never backed down from anything because you were too ‘lazy’ and Joe knew that which made this even more fun because he knew that being called ‘lazy’ woke something up inside of you. He found your competitive nature incredibly endearing, and he got to see it pretty early on in your relationship. He loved that he had someone who matched his competitive side, someone who didn’t mind silly shit-talking and was as goal-oriented as he was. 

You stared at him for a few moments, a fire building behind your eyes before you got up from your seat, “Where’s the Switch,” you grumbled while scrunching up your nose. 

“That’s my girl,” he grinned before he got up from his seat, dropped a loving kiss on your red cheeks, and grabbed his bag. You couldn’t help but smile even though you were getting your determined game face on, his sweet and soft attitude towards you always made you melt into a puddle of goo. 

The Next Day 

“Joe, where are we going?” you asked for the 3rd time as you looked over at him, but couldn’t see because of the blindfold around your eyes.

“It’s a secret, babe. You and your sexy self need to be patient” he grinned as he looked over at you, taking in how gorgeous you looked in the very expensive outfit he bought for you earlier. You both were doing some shopping earlier and Joe came in intending to find something for you to wear during the proposal but lied and said it was for tonight’s special dinner so you wouldn’t ask questions. He picked out a very gorgeous but very expensive vintage floral dress for you to wear, a matching pair of vintage Prada heels with a matching handbag, and even bought you another gold necklace from the jewelers next door to tie it all together. You refused to let him spend this much money on you, but he reminded you that you had to do anything he asked for 24 hours, so you had to comply with his wishes of buying you all this. 

After shopping your lives away, he made you go to the Spa with him. You were very confused as to why he made you both go to the Spa since that was never Joe’s scene, but this was his way of making you get a fresh set of nails and a nice facial treatment without it being too suspicious. Since this New York trip was super last minute, you didn’t have any time to get anything done and he knew that you’d be on his ass if you took engagement photos with a bad manicure and slightly dull skin, so he made sure you got everything done. You were going to go with light blue nails, but once again you had to do everything he said, and Joe wanted you to get white chrome nails. You didn’t ask why he wanted that specific color because you were too busy laughing at how silly he looked with a green mud mask on, but it was because it was the perfect color to mesh with the engagement ring he had made for you. 

Then once you got everything wrapped up at the Spa, you went back to the Air BnB and got ready for the ‘dinner’ Joe was taking you to. You were finishing your makeup before you felt Joe come up behind you in his baby blue sweater, wrapping his arms around you, swaying you from side to side, telling you how beautiful you looked. You spent a few moments like this, whispering little words of love to each other and passing typical flirtatious comments before Joe pulled out a blindfold from his pocket. 

“Why the blindfold?” you furrowed your eyebrows and asked. “You trying to kidnap me or something?” you joked. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked with a smile.

“Of course, I trust you, my to-be kidnapper,” you giggled as you leaned back into his arms. 

“Then let me put it on,” he whispered in your ear while running his hand along your arm, your body heating up from his electric touch. 

“Why?” you breathed out, his hand moving up to cup your shoulder, the pad of his thumb lightly brushing against the nape of your neck.

“It’s a surprise. Can’t say,” he smiled as he opened up the blindfold and met your eyes in the mirror, looking for some sort of response. You gave him a small nod and let him wrap the blindfold around your eyes. You didn’t really have a choice because you had to do whatever he said but you also didn’t ask too many questions, mostly because he wouldn’t answer any of them but also because you enjoyed a good surprise. 

“I know it’s a secret but I’m getting impatient,” you frowned as you snapped back to the present. You did enjoy a good surprise, but the anticipation was killing you. “You got me all dressed up and even took me to the Spa–which might I add–is the least Joe Burrow-like activity on the planet, and I’m a little suspicious right now truth be told,”.

“Am I not allowed to pamper my fian-..girlfriend?” Joe said, his eyes widening at the fact that he almost called you his fiancé. 

“You are,” you laughed, Joe letting out a relieved breath because it sounded like you didn’t hear him slip up. “I just thought you’d have me do other stuff and not stuff that was catered to me since I have to do whatever you say for the whole day,”

“Other stuff? Like what?” he snickered as he looked out onto the road, the Wedding Venue where Sophia got married and where Joe was proposing getting closer and closer. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe giving you super sloppy world-class head or making you pumpkin pie while only wearing an apron and no clothes underneath,” you chuckled.

“Well, the day isn���t over yet,” he smirked. “Maybe I’ll ask for those two later tonight,”.

“Now that sounds more like you,” you laughed. “But seriously, where are you taking me that requires a blindfold,”.

“You’ll see, we’re almost there,” he smiled, his heart rate picking up once he realized that this was really happening and wasn’t just a dream. 

A few minutes later, you had made it to the Winchester Country Club. Joe had rented out the entire event space for the day so that you two could have all the privacy you needed for this special and intimate moment. He had the staff set up the same ballroom where Sophia had her reception–and where he first mentioned your future together–with various candles and flowers lining the dance floor while there were rose petals scattered around in the middle. He even made sure that they hooked up the sound system so that he could play a special song while all of this was going down. It was picture-perfect, all of it. He was going to make you the one where it all really started for you both, where you first got a taste of what the years to come would be like. 

Joe turned the car off and took a few deep breaths to calm his growing nerves before looking over at your clueless yet adorable face, a big smile on it as you unbuckled your seat belt and turned to face him. 

“Are we here?” you eagerly asked as you attempted to find his forearm but couldn’t see so you were doing a bad job.

“We are,” he smiled while grabbing your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“So I can take this off?” you asked as you reached to untie the blindfold.

“No!” Joe quickly moved your hand down and said. “I need you to keep it on for a bit longer,”. 

“You’re so kidnapping me,” you giggled. 

“Would it be so bad though?” he teased as he opened his door and slid out of his seat, quickly closing it and jogging over to your side to let you out and finish your conversation.

“Not really,” you laughed as he opened your door and you struggled to find where he was standing since you couldn’t see a thing. “I would have the sexiest kidnapper in the world and probably receive the best treatment a hostage could get,”. 

“Exactly,” he shrugged as he grabbed your hand and carefully helped you out of the car. Being blindfolded was not easy because you were either one step away from falling on your face or one step away from going the wrong way. He made sure you got down carefully and closed your door for you before taking another deep breath and grabbing your hand. “You trust me, right?” he asked again, his nerves settling in now. 

“Where was this coming from?” you thought to yourself. This was now the second time he asked you this and it was adding to your suspicion along with the blindfold, expensive outfit, and spa treatments, that something was up. 

“More than anyone in the world,” you smiled as you pulled his hand up and pressed a soft kiss to it. 

“Okay,” he sighed. “Let’s go,” he said while leading you inside hand in hand. You let Joe lead you to what felt like a building of some sort, the whiff of warm air confirming that you weren’t outside anymore. 

You were walking for a little bit and felt that you were turning corners and entering other rooms. A few moments later, you stopped walking and you heard a few noises that sounded like a door opening, and then you were walking again.

You heard the door close behind you and Joe let go of your hand, his eyes scanning the room as he took in the fairytale-like set up which was just as he imagined. “Wow,” he mumbled to himself before he looked down at you, his heart rate picking up and his palms getting sweaty. 

“Come on, Joe. You got this. She loves you and she’s going to say yes,” Joe thought to himself, giving himself a mental pep talk. 

This was it. 

“You gonna let me see now or is there something else?” you laughed as you continued to look forward. Joe didn’t say anything in response, instead, he just untied the blindfold around your eyes and slipped the silky band off. 

Your eyes slowly adjusted to the dimly lit room, your heart stopping as you looked around and saw that you were standing at the foot of a ballroom floor that was lined with lit candles and flowers, a plethora of rose petals scattered across the middle. “Joe..where are we?” you said, your voice just short of a whisper as you looked up at him, taking note of his crinkled eyes and charming smile.

“The Country Club,” he said while he reached into his pocket and tapped the play button. A few seconds later, the starting tune of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley filled the ballroom. 

“Why are we-,” you began to say before he grabbed your hand and led you out to the middle of the dance floor.

“Dance with me first,” he said as he stopped you both in the center and placed his hands on your waist. “This is our song, it would be a shame to pass up on a chance to dance to it,” he said while pulling you closer to him.

“That is true,” you agreed while looping your arms around his neck, Joe began to sway you both back and forth while looking deeply into your soft eyes. “Whatever this is, I already love you for it,” you said while threading your fingers through his hair. 

“That’s really good to hear,” he smiled, as you placed your cheek against his chest and melted into him. Joe couldn’t believe that this was happening, he was just a few moments away from one of the most important moments in his life. He was a little nervous, to say the least, but he knew that you loved him more than anything in the world and there was a higher chance you would say ‘yes’ than ‘no’. You wanted this just as much as he did and if you didn’t, then you would show it. 

You spent a few quiet moments dancing around to the song that you both held incredibly close to your heart before Joe ended the dance by giving you a little twirl and pulling you right back into him after, a little gasp leaving your lips because of the strong movement from him.

“I can’t help falling in love with you,” he said, his face just inches from yours. “And that’s why I have to do this,”. 

“Do what?” you giggled.

“Do you know where we are right now?” Joe asked as he moved his hands from your waist to entwine your fingers, holding your hands as he started his little speech. 

“The Country Club,” you nodded, Joe staying quiet as he expected a more specific answer. “…The place where Sophia got married,” you added as you looked around and recognized the familiar surroundings. 

“Mhm,” he nodded, taking another deep breath to compose himself.

“Joe, why are we here?” you asked again, a little more serious this time as you noticed his tense body and felt his slightly sweaty palms. 

“Do you remember what we talked about at the Wedding? Specifically what we talked about on this dance floor while we danced to the same song?”.

Of course, you remembered what you talked about that night, you couldn’t forget it even if you tried. It was the first time he mentioned your future together, as more than just boyfriend/girlfriend. 

“Yeah,” you swallowed. “I do,” you said as you felt a warm feeling fill your body. 

“I wanted to bring you back here for that specific reason,” he began to say. “This was the first place where I told you how I felt about our future together. Where I told you I wanted to marry you. This was where I had to do this,”.

“Holy. Shit.” you thought to yourself. “Was he actually about to do this?”. 

“Y/N, I love you more than words can describe. These past two years have literally been the best years of my life because of you. You lit my world on fire when you first walked in, and from the first moment I saw you, I was already so down bad for you,”. 

Flashback to when you first met - Offseason 2.5 years ago 

“Y/N, we need you! He’s here,” your boss yelled as you were prepping the dressing room.

“Coming!” you yelled back as you finished setting up the room with snacks and the wardrobe for the shoot. This was just another part of your job working in PR–setting up the room for brand shoots for your guests. 

You looked everything over again to make sure that nothing was lacking, which obviously it wasn’t because you were amazing at your job. “I’m too good,” you grinned to yourself as you quickly turned around on your heels and walked out to the main area. 

Joe was talking to a few of the staff for the shoot today before he heard your boss speak up. “Ah, there she is,” he said while throwing his hands up. “Our miracle worker!”.

“I’m flattered,” you laughed as you walked over to everyone, Joe’s eyes darting toward the adorable laugh that echoed throughout the room. 

The first time Joe looked at you, it felt like the world shifted, just enough to make everything around him blur into the background. When you walked into the room, your presence commanded attention without even trying and the air around you shimmered with something magical. His heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by the sudden pull he felt toward you. 

His eyes met yours for a brief, electrifying moment, and in that instant, it was like a spell had been cast over him. All he could focus on was you, your smile, the way you moved with effortless grace and the way you lit up the entire room. It wasn’t just your beauty that captivated Joe; it was something deeper, something that resonated with his soul. 

The way you laughed and smiled, the way your hair bounced around while you moved, the way you just seemed so utterly yourself–it was all so enchanting. It didn’t take him long to realize that he didn’t want to break free from whatever spell you had unknowingly cast on him. He was completely and utterly mesmerized by you, and you were all he wanted to think about. 

“I’m Y/N,” you said to him, breaking him free from the trance he was in. 

He looked down and saw that you were now standing in front of him, his heart skipping another beat because of how close you were to him. “I’m- I’m Joe,” he nervously said.

“Oh, I know,” you smirked. “You’re pretty well known to say the least,”. 

“Y/N will be your best friend today, Joe. She’ll help you get ready, answer any questions, and basically be stuck by your side while we film today,”.

“I’m a lucky guy,” Joe laughed while rubbing his neck. 

“That you are,” you chimed in. “Follow me, I’ll show you your room for today,” you smiled as you turned around, your smile dropping once he couldn’t see your face anymore.

“Why was he looking at me like that?” you thought to yourself, his heated gaze incredibly noticeable. His beautiful blue eyes were stuck on you the entire time and that made a cloud of butterflies appear in your stomach. You shook your head and snapped out of it, “Focus, Y/N. That’s Joe Burrow. He probably looks at every girl that way for this exact reason–he likes to see them fawn over him,”.

“So, this is basically your house for today,” you awkwardly joked as you led him into the glamorous room. 

“Wow,” he said as his eyes scanned over everything. “And this was all done by you?”.

“Mhm,” you nodded while closing the door behind you. “Also, after the shoot, you can keep whatever you want in this room. Except for the furniture obviously, but the clothes, snacks, and accessories are all yours,”. 

“What about you? Do I get to keep you too?” he looked over at you with a cheeky grin and said. 

“Sorry, I’m off limits,” you winked.  

“Damn, that sucks because I think out of everything in this room, you’re the most appealing,” he flirted. 

You raised an eyebrow, amused at his boldness. “You’re trouble,” you laughed.

“Are you gonna arrest me?” he smirked while raising his hands. 

“We’ll see. I’ll give you the rest of the day before I make a decision,” you said as you felt yourself getting lost in his captivating baby-blue eyes. Something about his eyes was pulling you in, it was as if you wanted to get to know what was behind them and he was going to let you. 

“I’m gonna go back out there and look over the first set of shots we’re doing of you. The stylist and hair/makeup person should be coming in a few minutes,” you said as you felt his heated gaze traveling over your body, your breath hitching in your throat when you saw him lean in close to you, his arm brushing against yours. 

He reached to the side of you, twisting the doorknob and opening the door for you, “Thank you,” he whispered into your ear before pulling back and meeting your eyes again, seeing a spark behind them that you were trying to hide; but why were you trying to hide it?

You stared at him for a few quiet seconds before giving him a shy nod and quickly leaving the room, closing the door behind you as you pressed your back against the door. All it took was one look from him to leave you breathless. No man has ever been able to make you feel like this with just a look. 

“I’m so fucking screwed,” you whispered to yourself, a blush creeping up your face. 

About 20 minutes later, you walked back into Joe’s room and saw that he was getting ready for the shoot. Your eyes traveled down his body as you took in his outfit, “Mm, this is all wrong,” you shook your head, everyone in the room looking over at you.

“Why?” the stylist asked. 

You walked over to Joe, “The colors are clashing with his complexion. The tan just blends in with his skin and those necklaces aren’t popping either,” you said while touching his shoulder, your gentle touch sending shivers down his spine as he looked up at you from his chair. 

“I think I can fix this. Everyone, out. I’ll bring him out in a few minutes,” you ordered, everyone nodding and leaving the room. 

“Damn, they didn’t hesitate to leave,” he laughed. 

You walked over to the clothing racks and looked over the variety of available clothes, “I take my job very seriously and they all know that our boss calls me the miracle worker for a reason. I can’t have you going out there looking like a tan bandage,” you giggled as you pulled out a plain black tank top, baggy black jeans, and a white and black letterman jacket. 

Joe stood up from the chair and stood next to you, “Here, put these on,” you said while handing him the clothes. “I’ll look at the chains and necklaces and see what I can do,” you nodded as you moved around him and went back to the vanity. 

Joe took the clothes and moved to the middle of the room, slowly peeling his clothes off as you remained unbothered and looked down at the chains. There was no other room for him to go into and change as the bathroom was like a broom closet, so he had to get changed right there. 

“Oo, this one looks good,” you said as you picked up a chain and turned around, your body freezing once you saw him standing there with no shirt and just his boxers on. 

Your eyes were glued to his chest, a warm feeling taking over your body again as you looked at his perfectly crafted tan frame. “Fuck, why does he have to be so hot,” you thought to yourself. 

Your eyes widened at the thought you just had before Joe spoke up, “Uhh, my bad,” he said, still standing there half-naked.

“I..I..uh,” you stuttered. “You’re good, that’s on me,” you stuttered again as your eyes traveled down his body to his pelvis, your breath hitching in your throat as you saw something you’d never thought you’d see.

“Give me a few seconds,” Joe said as he quickly put everything on. 

“Take all the time you need,” you blushed as you kept your head down and turned around, Joe’s gaze stuck on you the entire time he was changing. He wanted to touch you so badly–feel your plump pink lips against his and your manicured hands scratching down his back. But equally, he wanted to get to know you. He wanted to peel off your clothes but also to peel you like an onion, peeling back each layer and getting to know you on a deeper level than what he saw on the surface. 

The rest of the shoot went like this as well, he just couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You stayed where he was the entire day as you said you would, so his eyes would instantly move over to you after every shot since you were right next to the camera. You even caught him staring at you a few times, each time thinking that he’d stop but he wouldn’t. You even found your gaze lingering on him when he wasn’t looking. You couldn’t help it, he looked insanely good. And he noticed, of course. Each time you stared at him for longer than normal, he could feel it. 

You wondered what about you made him so unfocused and distracted, unable to figure out if it was because there was something wrong with you or if he just wanted to get in your pants for a quick hookup and this was his way of drawing you in. You didn’t say anything to him about it because you tried to remain professional, but also because you thought that maybe the answer when you asked him wasn’t something you wanted to hear. 

Until the end of the shoot came around, delaying the inevitable wasn’t working anymore. If you weren’t going to say something, Joe sure was. 

“So…,” he cleared his throat and spoke up as you were looking through a few of the shots in his dressing room with him. “Thanks for helping me out today with everything. You’re really good at all this. Not just PR and work stuff, but also keeping me entertained,” he said as he looked over at you. 

In between shots and filming, you two actually had a few great conversations with each other. You talked about how you got involved in PR, and your thoughts on football–telling him that you lived and breathed football and had been since you were little so this was pretty fun for you, then talked about your favorite season which for both of you was fall which then led to you two bonding over your mutual fondness for pumpkin pie, and then talked a little about your likes and dislikes. 

Joe got to see your humorous side as well, he even lost count of how many times you had made him laugh. He also saw a little bit of your nerdy and brainy side, a dichotomy to the stupid jokes you made. You were quite literally perfect in every aspect, the most flawless person he had ever met. Each time you talked, Joe saw a little sparkle in your eyes; a sparkle that he wanted to never stop seeing now that he had been exposed to it. Every time you opened your mouth to talk, he got lost in your eyes, and that drove him crazy. 

“I’m a woman of many talents,” you grinned. “Also, I didn’t mind because you’re actually a pretty cool guy,”.

“You sound surprised?” Joe said, acting like he was offended. 

You were opening your mouth to say something, but all that came out was a soft laugh. “It’s just...the things I hear about you and how great and normal you are outside of football, I didn’t really believe it?”.

“Really?” Joe said, sitting up in his seat and rubbing his hands on his thighs out of nervousness. “Why is that?”.

“I just….you’re this millionaire quarterback who has the looks, the brains, the athletic ability, and all the money. That’s the formula for a Playboy douchebag but the way you portray yourself to the public doesn’t align with that. I just thought it was a front for your brand and image, but today’s showed me that it’s not,” you said. “You’re a pretty cool person,”.

While Joe got to see a bit of your personality, you got to see the same from him too; and the part you saw, you loved. He was funny, grounded, and legitimately a caring person. Whether it was him talking about his football journey or talking about his silly interests–he laid himself bare and was fully honest about himself. 

“Go on a date with me,” Joe blurted out, that being the only thought in his head for the past hour.  

You flinched when you heard him say that, your heart dropping from your chest all the way to your feet, “Woahh, I know I said you’re a cool person but I never said that I-,”.

“I know. And I’m probably being way too blunt right now but I want to go on a date with you. Like really bad,”.

“You don’t even know if I have a boyfriend or not,” you huffed, entertained by his confidence. 

“With the way you were looking at me during the shoot, either you don’t or you have a wandering eye,” he laughed. 

“Fuck, he saw me? This is so embarrassing,” you thought to yourself. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see the amount of times you were staring at me too. Way more than the times I looked at you,” you said, flipping it back onto him to hide your embarrassment. 

“That’s because I want you,” he blurted out again, this newfound confidence coming out of nowhere. He had never been this straightforward with a girl, especially a girl he had just met. You were special. 

Your eyebrows felt like they shot up to the roof, “You’re very forward, aren’t you?” you laughed. 

“Only when I’m serious about something,” he nodded. 

He’s just trying to get in your pants right? No way he was really interested in you. “Joe, you’re sweet, super flirty, but sweet. But I don’t think this is a good idea,” you sighed. 

“Not a good idea? Who were you trying to please? You’re not some angel saint, this Greek god-like man literally said he wants you. What the fuck are you doing? Jump his bones already!” your subconscious said. 

“Why not?” Joe crossed his arms and asked. 

“I mean, I don’t even know you and-,”.

“That’s what first dates are for,” he interrupted.

“Okay, but I’m just a normal girl and you’re this hotshot Quarterback. You could have anyone you wanted so why-,”.

“You’re perfect, like insanely perfect in every aspect and not just your looks. I don’t want anyone else,” he interrupted again. 

“How do I know you’re not just looking for a quick hookup? You are an athlete after all and-,”.

“Don’t judge a book by its flashy cover,” he interrupted, again. “Get to know me. The real me. You got a sneak peek of the real me today. He wasn’t so bad, was he?”. 

You were speechless. He had an answer for every doubt you had and he was oh-so persistent. 

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the rings on your fingers because you didn’t know what to say. You wanted to peel his onion and get to know him, but you were scared that if you did, it would leave you in tears–and not the good kind. Even though you’d only spent a few hours with him, he made it memorable and special. The conversations you two had were as if you were just two old friends catching up, not as if you were two strangers who had just met. He had this aura around him that was pulling you in even though you were trying to hold back. 

Joe saw your uncertain facial expression and scooted closer to you, lifting your chin with his hand to meet his eyes. “Listen, go on one date with me. Just one. If you don’t leave with a smile on your face and a warm feeling in your heart, I’ll leave you alone. We can pretend like it never happened,”.  

“....Really? You’d do that, leave me alone? You’re pretty stubborn so…,” you giggled. 

“Very funny, Y/N,” he rolled his eyes. “But yeah, I would. I hope I don’t have to because there’s something about you that just draws me in and it’s not just how beautiful you are. I don’t know what it is, but it’s like a magnetic pull and I felt it the first time I looked at you,”.

“You have a way with words,” you smiled. 

“I’m serious though. I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me,” he added, the seriousness in his voice making you feel less nervous about the situation. 

You bit your lip and thought over his offer for a few seconds. “It can’t be that bad? He seems really sweet, respectful (but flirty as fuck), and is acting like he genuinely likes you. Not every guy is looking for a quick fuck and he was right, don’t judge a book by its flashy cover. You peeled a layer of his onion so far and you liked what you saw, you should keep peeling because it probably gets better and not worse. Right?” your subconscious said. “This could be different. You never know unless you try,”.

“Fine. I’ll go on a date with you,” you said while you looked back up at him, his eyes filled with desire and curiosity. 

“Perfect,” he beamed, mentally doing a little dance because he got you to agree. “I’ll swing by tomorrow after you’re wrapped up here and take you out to the best first–maybe last–date possible,”.

“I’m counting on it,” you nodded. You weren’t sure why you were giving him a chance, but it felt right for some reason. This was either the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life or the best decision you’ve ever made in your life. 

Oh, and Joe made sure that it was the best decision you’d ever made in your life. The date was quite literally perfect. He was quite literally perfect. 

And given how well it went, it wasn’t your last date. It was the first of many, many exciting and special dates. 

You left that first date just as he thought you would–with a smile and a warm feeling radiating throughout your body; but also with another feeling.

A feeling of intrigue. 

You wanted to get to know him just as much as he wanted to get to know you. You wanted to get to know him more than you already had during your date. 

You wanted to get to know Joe in every single way possible.  

End of flashback 

“I was stubborn as fuck and even though you were hesitant, you still agreed to go on one date with me. I came into that date nervous and awkward as hell because I was scared that you wouldn’t enjoy it and that you didn’t feel the same spark that I did, but I was wrong. We left that date hand in hand, laughing until our stomachs hurt, with your head on my shoulder, and with your name carved in on my heart. You peeled my whole onion in one date and nobody has ever been able to do that. That was the moment I knew that you’d be the one. I swear I fell in love with you the moment I saw you and that date made me double down on those feelings. You’re kind, compassionate, and the most stunning woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. You never fail to make me laugh, you’re always finding new ways to make me fall even more in love with you, and you’re exactly what I picture when I think about my forever person. You’re exactly what I needed in my life; with you, there are no empty spaces. My entire world is complete because of you,”.

You felt tears pool in your eyes as he continued talking, “Joe-,” you sobbed.

“I’m not done, yet,” he laughed. “I’ve thought about this moment every day since that Wedding. The thought of you being the one makes my heart hurt, in a good way obviously. I physically can’t live without you, everything I do is for you. I live for you, I love for you, I burn for you, Y/N. It’s all for you,”.

“He’s perfect. He literally cannot get more perfect. I love him so much,” you thought to yourself.

“I brought you back here to this special spot so I could do this,” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a red velvet box. He got down on one knee in front of you, the sobs getting harder as he opened the box and showed you the gorgeous princess-cut diamond ring. 

“Princess Cut. He remembered,” you thought to yourself, tears streaming down your cheeks like a river breaking through a dam, fast and uncontrollable. 

Your heart was about to beat out of your chest, he was actually about to do it. He was about to do the one thing that you had dreamed about for as long as you could remember. “You’re the one, Y/N. You always have been, and you always will be. Will you marry me and let me be the one for you?” he said as he opened the box and looked up into your eyes, his glossy with a few tears.

“You already are, Joe. You’ve always been the one,” you choked out as you cupped his face. “You’ve been the one since the day we met. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you smiled through your sobs.

Joe’s entire soul lit up when you said that, fireworks set off inside his body as he took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto your ring finger. “I love you, Y/N,” he choked out as you crouched down and pulled him in close for a tight hug, tucking his head into your neck and rubbing his neck as you felt a few tears from him drip down onto your shoulder. 

“I love you, Joe. I love you so fucking much,” you smiled as tears slid down your face. You moved his head out from your neck, cupping his adorable face and pulling him in for a kiss, a kiss that quickly became heated. 

“Whew, gotta hit the brakes, we’re still in public,” you giggled as you ran your thumb under his eye. 

“Who cares,” he smiled as he moved his hands down to cup your ass and chased your lips for another kiss, planting a few around your cheek before ending at your lips.  “Wait,” he said as he pulled away. “You didn’t just say ‘yes’ because of the fact that you have to do whatever I say for a whole day, right?”. 

“Are you kidding?” you broke out laughing. “I would say ‘yes’ solely because of that condition even if I didn’t actually want to willingly marry you. I said ‘yes’ because I wanted to, not because I was forced to. However, I wouldn’t complain if I was forced? Being married to you either way sounds like the best thing ever,”. 

“Mmm, I love you,” Joe mumbled as he pulled you in for another kiss. 

“So,” he said as he pulled away and kissed your right cheek. “Fucking,” he said as he kissed your left cheek. “Much,” he said as he kissed your nose. “Mrs. Burrow,” he said as he ended the sentence with another kiss on your soft lips. 

“Ooo, I like that name,” you giggled. 

“Yeah?” he asked with a laugh.

“Mhm, and I love you, Mr. Burrow,” you smiled against his lips. 

One month later - Las Vegas, Nevada 

 “Woo, we had a little too much to drink tonight,” you giggled as you and Joe stumbled into your hotel suite. 

“What do you mean? I feel amaaaazing,” Joe drunkenly laughed as he let go of your hip and set you down on the couch before plopping down next to you. 

“Leave it to us to get fucked up within 5 hours of being in Vegas,” you rolled your eyes while slipping your heels off. 

You and Joe had been in LA for the past week for some of Joe’s offseason training & brand sponsorships and decided to end your visit to the West Coast with a trip to Las Vegas for a few days. You had gotten to your hotel around mid-afternoon and immediately got changed and went out, first attending a classic Vegas magic show but not before you tricked Joe into thinking you bought Magic Mike tickets instead and his reaction was priceless. 

Flashback to earlier 

“What the fuck do you mean you got Magic Mike tickets,” Joe said, his jaw practically on the floor. 

“That means, I got us Magic Mike tickets,” you smirked as you slipped on a sparkly black skintight short dress. “Front Row too,”. 

You could practically see the steam coming off of Joe’s face, his cheeks turning a shade of red you had only seen a few times; times when he got jealous. “Absolutely not,” Joe grumbled as he grabbed your wrist and spun you around so that you were facing him and not the mirror. 

“Why not?” you said with a furtive grin, his grip on your wrist sending chills down your spine. 

“Because,” Joe said while motioning at you with his free hand. 

“Words, baby. I can’t read minds,” you laughed.

“Because I don’t want half-naked men ogling at my sexy fiance right in front of me,” he snarled. “Especially when she’s wearing a dress that’s showing off too much cleavage for public view,”.

“So it’s okay if they do it not in front of you,” you said, perking up and flashing him a full tooth smile. “Because I can go alone,” you shrugged. 

“What? No,” Joe chirped. “I don’t want any half-naked men ogling at you, not in front of me or behind my back,”.

“But Joeee,” you whined. “It’ll be fun,”.

“Please, I cannot believe he actually thinks I want to go to a Magic Mike show,” you thought to yourself. 

“Y/N, no man needs to be giving you a lap dance in front of your to-be husband. No man needs to be giving you a lap dance period,” he said, his voice laced with sternness. 

“What if I want them to,” you said while crossing your arms from displeasure. 

“What,” Joe said, his jaw falling to the ground again as his eyebrows shot up. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You can get eye-fucked by every girl that’s in your vicinity and I never say anything. Maybe I want a few guys to do the same to me without your objection,”. 

When the words left your mouth, you saw his jaw clench and the veins on his arm pop, “Oh fuck, he’s mad mad,” you thought to yourself.  

“Am I not enough?” Joe asked, the tension in the room now so thick you could cut it with a knife. 

“Joe, I-” you began to say. 

“No, seriously. Is my attention not enough that you need random sweaty men in skimpy outfits to make you feel good?” he said while crossing his arms at his chest, a pose that signaled that he was upset. “If you want that kind of attention, why are we even engaged? Why are you even with me? Being single and being as gorgeous as you are can get you all of that kind of attention you so clearly want,”. 

Your smile dropped as you could practically feel in your soul how this joke didn’t sit well with him through his voice. Joe was a pretty sensitive guy even if he didn’t show it and this joke clearly made him feel pretty awful because he was saying these things he normally would never say.  

You looked up and walked closer to him, cupping his face with your hands as he refused to look at you in the eyes. “Hey, Hey, look at me,” you softly said as you tilted his head back to look at you. “I’m just kidding, Joey,” you said, your softened eyes telling him that you were being truthful. 

“W- What?” he choked out.

“It’s a prank…a really dumb prank, but a prank. There are no Magic Mike tickets and there are no men that I want eye-fucking me, other than you obviously,” you laughed. “I was just messing with you. I got us the David Copperfield tickets at MGM like we talked about,”. 

“You’re serious?” he hesitantly asked. 

“So serious. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t enough. You are more than enough for me, more than I can honestly handle,” you winked, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Sorry I got so worked up over that,” he shook his head as he placed his hands on your hips, the pad of his thumb rubbing the sparkly fabric. “I just don’t want anything ruining this, even if it’s some rando Vegas stripper getting too close to you because it’s part of the show,”. 

“Nothing is ruining this,” you said while looping your arms around his neck. “I’m here with you, and only you. My to-be husband, my favorite person in the world, my bestest friend–don’t tell Sophia I said that, and the sexiest person alive. I don’t need random men to make me feel good when I have you,” you said while scratching his scalp. 

“You make me feel good,” you smiled. “In every,” you whispered as you pressed a wet kiss to the corner of his lips. “Single,” you whispered as you planted a few kisses on his cheek. “Way,” you whispered as you pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “Possible,” you whispered before you crashed your lips against his. 

End of flashback 

After a quick makeout sesh, you both went to the magic show and then hit up a few clubs along The Strip, which was the reason you were both completely out of your senses. The alcohol and hint of weed in both your systems were really pushing you both onto a different planet. 

“It was worth it though,” Joe shrugged. “I had the time of my life watching you struggle to drink all the Jello Shots by yourself,”.

“And that is the last time I make a bet against you,” you sighed.

“Let this be a reminder to never make a bet about anything sports-related against an actual athlete,” he slurred as he got up from the couch to walk over to the mini-kitchen and grab you both some water. 

You got up right after him, following him into the kitchen as you started fiddling with the fabric of your dress which was scratching against your skin and making you incredibly uncomfortable. You hopped up onto the counter as Joe opened the fridge and pulled out two bottles, his eyes navigating towards you as you were pulling down the straps of your dress.

“What’re you doing?” he laughed as he set the bottles next to you.

“Trying to get the hell out of this dress,” you whined, an idea popping up into your head when you glanced over at him. You reached out for his hand and pulled him over to you, spreading your legs open to accommodate his large body, allowing him to step in between them. “Maybe you could help me?” you smirked as you pulled him down for a kiss.

His veiny hands settled on your waist as you leaned back, your hands cupping his cheeks as your lips moved against each other in a sensual tango. You both had so much pent-up energy from your activities earlier and going out tonight made it even worse. Joe’s eyes were glued to you the entire time at the clubs you went to, even though you two were stuck to each other’s side the whole time anyway. You just looked so insanely good that the only thoughts in his brain were ones he would get slapped for if he said them in public. 

Everything about you was sending him into overdrive tonight; the way your dress hugged your body in all the right spots, the way your hair bounced each time you laughed, the way your beautiful eyes would look into his, the way your soft pink lips were curled into a smile the entire night, and the way you were stuck to him like glue–reminding everyone in the room that he was all yours. 

His eyes were also glued to the massive diamond ring on your ring finger, a constant reminder that you were all his. 

But that ring being a reminder wasn’t enough. He couldn’t wait to make you all his. 

“Mm, Joe,” you moaned into the kiss, the taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue which made the kiss more intoxicating. “Fuck, I need you,” you whispered against his lips as he pulled away. Those words usually ignited a fire within Joe that couldn’t be burned out until you two ended up naked in bed after spending a good amount of time partaking in certain activities, but this time those words seemingly didn’t do anything. 

“Let’s get married tomorrow night,” Joe blurted out as he looked into your eyes with nothing but a look of raw desire and excitement.

You stared at him like he had two heads, breaking out into a fit of laughter a few seconds later. “Oh my god, you’re funny,” you laughed while pulling him back to you using the collar of his shirt, attaching your lips to his for another kiss before he abruptly pulled away.

“Y/N, I’m not kidding,” he said.

“Joe, you’re drunk. We’re both very drunk,” you giggled as you rubbed his cheek. 

“I know, but I’m sober enough to know that I want to marry you tomorrow,” he said, turning serious as he pulled away from you. 

You hopped off of the counter and stood in front of him, still not being able to take him seriously. “Can we talk about this later? Why don’t we go to bed and finish talking about some other things first,” you said while running your hands up his chest and cupping his big shoulders. 

“Nope. We’re getting married tomorrow night which means we have to abstain from having sex so that the first time we do as a married couple is special,” he said, stepping back from you. 

You think he’s just messing with you like you were earlier, so you decide to play along and tease him to hopefully break his front. Since you were out of your mind drunk, there was no logic available in your brain to stop you. You quickly yank off your dress and are left standing in front of him in your matching bra and black lace panties, his breath hitching in his throat as the tent in his pants grows at the sight of your gorgeous body.

“You sure about that?” you said while raising an eyebrow, knowing that he could never resist putting his hands on you when you were half-naked in front of him. 

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat and said, “I’m sure,”. 

“Okay, but you can’t be so sure when you’re sitting next to me in that big bed…all alone…just the two of us…with nobody in sight that could interrupt us,” you teased while giving him a slow once-over. 

“Fuck, why does she have to make this harder than it already is,” Joe thought to himself, an idea quickly popping up into his head that would solve this problem.

“But that’s just the thing. I won’t be sitting next to you in bed,” he smirked.

“What?” you asked.

“I’m sleeping in the second bedroom,” Joe wiggled his eyebrows and said as he walked around you towards the bedroom. 

Your jaw dropped to the floor, “Joe!” you yelled as you followed him through the large suite. “You wouldn’t dare,”. 

“Ohhh, but I would,” he laughed as he glanced back at you, watching as you quickly matched his pace and walked up next to him. 

“Joe, we haven’t had sex in 2 days,” you complained. “I can’t take it anymore,”.

“And that’s exactly why tomorrow night will be better,” he smirked as he made it to the little hallway where the bedrooms were, opening the door of the second one and flipping around on the doorstep so you couldn’t come in. “Nope. Your room is over there,” he pointed across the little hallway as you bumped into his chest, then backed up because of the stubborn smile on his adorable face.  

“You’re not serious,” you said while placing your hands on your hips.

“I’m very serious,” he slurred and nodded. “We can’t be in the same bed before we get married,”. 

“Fine,” you huffed, seeing that he wasn’t going to budge so you shouldn’t waste your breath trying to get him to cave. Whenever Joe set his mind on doing something, he always did it.

“You’re going to wake up and regret this, Burrow. And stop with the marriage thing. Our wedding is in July, not tomorrow,” you shook your head and turned around to go into the bedroom you’d been sleeping in alone tonight. 

“I loveeee youuuu,” he grinned as you opened the door to the room.

You turned around and couldn’t help but giggle at the scene, “You make me crazy, but I love you too. But also, I’m still mad at you for this,” you said as you turned your smile back into a pout, earning a throaty laugh for him before he closed his door. 

A few minutes later, you were lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling, absolutely bored out of your mind as the ache between your thighs got stronger and stronger and the only person who could fix it refused to come near you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you ran your hands along your neck. You still couldn’t quite understand how Joe could still get you like this years later. Back then, getting turned on by him was a given because you hadn’t gotten a taste of what this was like with him consistently. But now, you had gotten plenty of tastes and he still got you like this. Either you were insatiable as hell or he was just too damn good. Or maybe it was a bit of both. 

Flashback to your 4th date 

“Tonight was really fun,” you smiled over at Joe, who was walking you to the front step of your house. He had taken you out on your 4th date tonight, taking you to glow-in-the-dark Mini Golf and treating you to dinner at a retro diner nearby. Every date with Joe just got better and better; you couldn’t get enough of him. You couldn’t get enough of his contagious laugh, silly stories, and his constant looks of admiration for you. That pull he talked about feeling from you, yeah, you were feeling it for him too. Everything about him made you happy. He was a walking ray of sunshine in your life which was something you desperately needed. 

“I’m glad you had fun,” he smiled as he led you over to your door. “I hope this isn’t getting too boring for you,” he said while scratching his neck. Although everything was going smoothly between the two of you, he couldn’t help the few doubts that crept through. 

“Boring?” you laughed. “Joe, please. Our first date solidified that you are physically incapable of ever boring me. I mean, we were in that restaurant for 4 and a half hours,”. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he chuckled. “You managed to get my entire life story out of me in those 4 ish hours, even shit I’ve never told anyone,”.

“I peeled your onion pretty quickly, didn’t I?” you smiled as you played with the rings on your fingers. “I didn’t even cry,”.

Joe’s heart skipped a beat and his eyes instantly moved from the ground to your eyes. “Onion? Peeling my onion? She compares people to onions too? Like me?” Joe thought to himself. 

“You- you compare people to onions too?” he swallowed. 

“Yeah,” you giggled. “I know it’s silly, but people are like onions just less smelly–they both have layers. There is more to what is seen on the surface, you know? Like each layer represents different parts of your personality,  experiences, emotions, and thoughts. As you get to know someone better, you peel back these layers, discovering deeper and more complex parts about them,” you smiled. “But doing so can also make you cry, because well, onions can make you cry just like people can,”.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” Joe whispered out loud, his cheeks turning red once he realized he just said that to you. 

“….I am?” you blushed as you rocked back and forth on your feet.

“I..uh…yeah,” he stuttered, feeling a spark inside of his heart. “I compare people to onions too but I’ve never met anyone who does the same,” he nervously smiled, hoping that he didn’t just weird you out by saying you were everything he’s ever wanted—even though it was 100% truthful. 

“Look at us being on the same wavelength,” you smiled as you grabbed his hand and entwined your fingers. 

“That’s really cool,” he shyly smiled, the blush on his cheeks now matching the blush on yours and his eyes staring deeply into yours as you held onto his hand. You both continued to stare at each other in silence, not exactly sure why but it felt right. You didn’t want to let go of his hand and quite frankly, you didn’t want to let go of him either. Tonight was amazing, and you didn’t want it to end. You didn’t want him to leave. 

“I should get going,” Joe said as he broke eye contact and looked down at his watch, letting go of your hand which startled you. 

“Or you could stay?” You quickly said as you looked back up at him with hopeful eyes. You and Joe hadn’t spent the night together yet so this would be the first time you’d ever stayed over at each other's house. The first time it would be just the two of you, together, in a quiet house, with a bed, for hours. 

Specifically with a bed. 

You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a single unholy thought in your head about the man standing in front of you. You had managed to keep it PG between you both—except for the occasional wandering hands during a little make-out session—but you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you everywhere, to kiss you everywhere, and to make you feel like the most special girl on the planet. 

You wanted Joe so bad. You tried to fight it when you first met, but you couldn’t stay away and his extraordinary personality made it even harder. He was the epitome of sexiness, the textbook definition of perfection. From his gorgeous dirty blonde curls to his adorable ski slope nose, to his killer jawline, down to his plump pink lips, and then to his crafted-from-gold chest that you wanted to run your fingers along, he was the hottest man you’d ever come across. And he was all yours. 

But were you all his? Did he want you as bad as you wanted him? 

“Are you sure?” Joe said while anxiously playing with his wristbands. 

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I had a lot of fun tonight and I don’t want it to end. We could go inside and watch a movie or something,” you said while turning around to unlock the door. “If you want to, obviously,”.

“I’d love to,” Joe contently sighed, a feeling of excitement sparking inside of him as he followed you inside your house.  

It was just the two of you, in this house, alone, at night. Nothing bad could happen, right? 

But what if you wanted something bad to happen? 

What if you both wanted something bad to happen? 

A half-hour passed by and you and Joe were sitting on your couch, watching “The Proposal”. You would think since you put on a classic & incredibly sweet romantic comedy, you and Joe would be curled up in each other's arms and glued to each other as you laughed your hearts out. 

But you weren’t.

Instead, you two were awkwardly sitting next to each other with none of your body parts touching each other and with both of your hearts beating out of your chests because of how nervous you felt. 

By saying that you both kept your relationship PG so far, you really meant PG. Yeah, you two kissed a lot and even had a few spicy make-outs, but oddly enough—cuddling wasn’t common. Hell, you barely even cuddled with each other. Cuddling was so intimate and special, the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other out of pure love and comfort was unmatchable.

That’s why you both are so nervous right now. This was a prime cuddle moment. You wanted to scooch over and lay your head down on his chest while he wrapped his arm around your waist, but you were too scared he wouldn’t want to. How could you go there if you couldn’t even cuddle him without getting anxious and nervous? The fact that you even wanted to cuddle with him was enough to scare you. Since when did you get so comfy around a guy so quickly? 

“Snap out of it, Y/N. Stop getting in your head over this,” you thought to yourself. 

Joe was nervous because you made him nervous. He’d been pretty vocal about how badly he wanted you—your first meeting clearly giving that away—and those feelings were heightened right now because of the situation you were in. You were coming off of a really good date night and were all alone in your house; the situation couldn’t be more perfect for things to happen. Things Joe literally spent hours thinking about. 

He was so down bad for you and he hadn’t even gotten a full taste of what you had to offer. It was insane. “Come on, Joe. Pull her over. Why are you sitting like you don’t know each other? She’s literally made out with you in your lap so why are you being so awkward?” he thought to himself. “Wake the fuck up, Joe. This is your girl,”. 

“My girl,” he mumbled under his breath, causing you to look over at him.

“Did you say something?” you breathed out, your palms getting sweaty as your brain wouldn’t shut up about how awkward this situation was.

“Hm? Oh…no,” Joe said, his cheeks turning red again once he realized he said that out loud. “I’m gonna go get a glass of water, you want one?” He quickly changed the subject and got up.

“Oh, I’m good,” you swallowed, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in once he walked around the couch and back to the kitchen. 

“A glass of water. That’s what I need,” Joe thought to himself as he grabbed a glass from your cabinet and poured himself some water, looking up a few times and seeing you laughing adorably on the couch in front of him. “When you go back, sit down closer to her. Put your arm around her, girls love that,” Joe’s subconscious said.

Joe took a final sip of the icy cold water—a much needed refresher—before he walked back over to the couch, your eyes following him as he sat down next to you. As he sat down closer to you. 

You froze as you felt his arm touching your arm, and then suddenly felt him move his arm and place it around your shoulder, then felt him pull you into his warm chest. “Oh my god,” you thought to yourself as you heard his heartbeat through his chest. “Wait, is he nervous too?”.

You stayed quiet and frozen for a few seconds before literally melting against him. The feeling of his thumb rubbing your skin and his head leaning against yours was something you craved, and now you finally had it. You felt like a piece of melting chocolate on a warm tongue. 

Joe smiled as he felt you relax against him, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead as you got comfy on him. This calmed all of his doubts and nerves, you felt comfortable with him and that’s all that mattered. 

“This is nice,” you smiled up at him a few moments later, showing your appreciation for his actions. 

“It’s very nice,” Joe chuckled, his laugh vibrating through your body. “I’m glad you feel comfortable around me, I got a bit nervous there,”.

“Feel my palms, Joey. They’re sweaty as hell. I feel nervous around you,” you giggled.

“Nervous? Why are you nervous?” He questioned.

“…Because,” you said while taking a deep breath and turning serious. “I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. Especially this fast,”.

“Really?” He said while looking down at you.

“Yeahhhh,” you sighed. “It takes me a minute to get comfortable around a guy like this. I usually have all my walls up early on because I’m scared that if I don’t, they’ll see the most vulnerable parts of me and then they’ll know exactly what my achilles heel is. I’ve made the stupid mistake of letting my walls down early on a few times, and that’s exactly what happened. They used it against me, and that really fucked me up for a while,”.

Joe's heart broke when he saw your eyes slowly getting glossier as you talked. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“No, don’t be,” you smiled up at him. “You haven’t done anything wrong and that’s why I’m nervous. Usually by now, a guy does something that ticks me off and leaves a sour taste in my mouth. But you? You haven’t done a single thing,” you beamed. 

“So that’s good?” he nervously asked

“It’s great,” you said while leaning up to plant a big kiss on his lips. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I don’t feel the need to put my walls up. I have really, really strong feelings about you. I haven’t even known you for that long, but I know you won’t ever do anything to hurt me,”. 

He wouldn’t. Joe would never do anything to hurt you, never in a million years. He wouldn’t hurt someone that he loved. 

Yeah, he loved you. Was it too early to say it? Absolutely. But he couldn’t help the powerful feelings he felt about you. He’d never fell this fast and hard for a girl, you were clearly unique. “I wouldn’t ever dream of hurting someone so precious and extraordinary,” Joe smiled as he pecked your lips. 

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” you smiled as you buried your face in his chest, his arm tightly wrapping around your waist, his hand slipping a little under your shirt. The feeling of his warm hand against your bare skin sends jolts of electricity throughout your body. 

“Tell me about your exes. I want to know what things they did that ticked you off early on so I know what not to do,” Joe said while he squeezed the soft plush skin of your waist. 

“I don’t think you’ll make the same mistakes they did, trust me. But okay, if you really want to know I won’t stop you,” you laughed. You spent a few minutes ranting to Joe about your exes, his jaw-dropping each time you said something they did—each ex progressively getting worse each time. 

“Where are you finding these guys? Like this is insane,” he said with a wide-eyed stare. 

“Tell me about it,” you rolled your eyes. “And my most recent ex, please,” you scoffed. “You can’t be an incompetent boyfriend and be bad in bed at the same time,”. 

“No way,” Joe gasped.

“Mhmmm. Only cared about getting himself off; never once thought about me and how I felt. I should’ve known, if you can’t take care of a girl in bed then you definitely can’t take care of a girl in a relationship,” you shook your head.

“I’d take care of you,” Joe mumbled under his breath, but just loud enough for you to hear.

“You would?” you smirked as you looked up and said, a gush of wetness instantly pooling at your core. 

“Did I seriously say that out loud AGAIN? Can I not keep anything in my head?” Joe thought to himself. 

He stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking up, “Yeah, I would,” he boldly said. “Fuck it. This is my girl. She should know how I feel about her straight up, no beating around the bush,”.

You felt a pang of arousal shoot up your body, his alluring words waking up another side of you that you hadn’t seen in a while. “Really?” you asked as you shifted next to him, slowly moving up and placing your legs on each side of him, settling down in his lap. His hands moved down to cup your thighs as you moved his hair out of his eyes, your face just inches from his.

“Yeah,” he nodded as his eyes darkened with lust. “I don’t think I’ll have any issue getting you off before I get off,”.

You felt your breathing stop for a second, “Fuck,” you thought to yourself. “I need him, bad,”. Any and all nervousness and anxiety left your brain at this moment. You couldn’t care less about things that happened in your previous relationships, all you wanted to focus on was Joe. “You sound so sure,” you whispered as you leaned down and peppered kisses along his jaw, his hands moving to your back but slowly inching down to your ass.

“Because I am. I’ll make you scream my name so loudly that you’ll forget about all those other guys. I’ll be the only thing you remember,” he whispered into your ear, his voice thick with lust. 

A switch turned on when he said that and you immediately lifted your head from his jaw and crashed your lips down onto his, your hands cupping his cheeks as you pushed yourself closer to him, his lips fighting for dominance against yours as you ran your hands along his thick chest. 

You wanted him so badly. 

His lips were so addictive, the way they were so soft just felt like you were kissing a cloud. He moved his hands back up to your waist, his fingers tugging on the fabric of your t-shirt, “Bedroom?” he breathlessly asked you as he pulled away.

“Yes,” you panted as he quickly pulled your face back to his and got up from the couch, your legs wrapping tightly around his while he carried you up to your room. 

Once you got inside, he gently threw you down on the bed before ripping his clothes off, both of you moving with a sense of urgency.  When he was completely bare in front of you, that’s when you truly lost it. Your eyes traveled along his body, noticing each and every vein that you would so easily travel along, noticing every muscle and every spot that you deemed kissable. Your eyes then dipped down to the V in his abdomen, your breath stopping again when you saw his prominent erection, the tip of his cock pooling with precum.

“Fuck me. Literally and figuratively,” you thought to yourself. You looked back up at him and ripped your shirt and shorts off, quickly making yourself bare just like he was. Normally, you’d feel insecure and shy with a guy when it got to this point. But with Joe, all you felt was comfort and confidence, it was amazing. 

Joe looked down at you, taking in every part of your body for the first time; your perfect thighs, your soft belly, your perfect & gorgeous breasts. You were all his, and you were so beautiful. You felt a dip in the bed as he moved on top of you, “You’re gorgeous, Y/N,” he whispered as he peppered kisses along your chest. “So insanely gorgeous,”.

“Joe, I need you,” you whispered as you felt your core throb and your body relax underneath him. 

“Before we actually, you know, do it..you’re good, right? I don’t want you to feel any pressure or stress to do anything if you don’t really want to,” Joe said while tucking your hair behind your ear. 

You grabbed his hand and shoved it down to your core, his eyes looking down as you ran his fingers through your wetness. “You feel that? That’s all for you, Joe,” you blubbered, the way his fingers were sliding along your folds was teasing yet so satisfying. “Please, fuck me. Make me forget about them,” you said while intensely staring into his eyes, his eyes turning a shade of blue you’d never seen before. 

You wanted this just as bad as he did and he wanted this just as bad as you did. 

He leaned down and captured your lips in another heated kiss before sliding his hand up your belly to cup your breast, playing with the sensitive bud at the same time as he lined himself up with your dripping core and thrusted all the way into you, wasting no second to get straight to it. The intensity of the first thrust caught you completely off guard, the feeling of fullness and being stretched out by him for the first time making you abruptly pull away and let out a throaty moan. “Oh, fuck,” you moaned as he set a relentless pace. “Fuck, Joe,”.

“Fuck,” he whimpered above you, his hair falling down and acting as a curtain. “Jesus, you feel so good,” he groaned as the warm feeling of your walls felt like a tight hug around his cock. 

You placed your hands on his back, digging your nails into his muscular body as he continued to fuck you in the most delicious way possible; each thrust laced with need and infatuation. He grabbed your leg, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up which opened you up even more, allowing him to hit new spots as he explored you in the most intimate way imaginable. “Does it feel…good,” Joe wailed as he pounded into your wet heat.

“It feels amazing,” you whimpered while throwing your head to the side, his lips instantly attacking your neck with little nips and sucks. The feeling of him inside you was sending electricity throughout your body, he was so good at this. Each thrust hit the right spot inside your core, each kiss landed on the right spot, and each word that left his mouth made you lose any and all control you had. He definitely was better than your exes, and he was definitely taking care of you. 

“F- fuck, Joe. P- please, fuck me forever,” the filthy words leaving your mouth surprised both you and Joe. 

“You’re so needy, baby,” he smirked as he peppered kisses along your jaw. “Were they that bad?” he asked, referring to your exes.

“Mmph,” you whimpered as you moved your head back to look at him. “S- so bad,” you moaned as his thick cock was grazing your g-spot. “Oh, right there,” you practically screamed. 

“What? Right here?” he smirked as he gave you an extra hard thrust, this one sending you up the bed.

“Joe,” you moaned again as your back arched off the bed, but he pushed you back down with his hand and continued to snap his hips into you. He dropped your leg and moved his hand to your abdomen, rubbing the soft skin of your belly and gently pushing down as he inched towards your breasts. He leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak as you threaded your hands through his hair. 

You lost track of the amount of times you moaned his name just like how you lost track of how much time had passed. There were no real thoughts in your head, all you could think about was how good this felt and how it was all because of Joe. Your chemistry was insane. It was like pure fire between you both.

You felt your arousal building in your stomach as he continued to send you over the edge, both of you moving with pure lust and desire. “You’re doing so well, Y/N…that’s it,” he whimpered as he dropped his head to the crook of your neck. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he moaned.

You couldn’t help but smile, he was praising you and making you feel good at the same time. He was truly the perfect guy; he lacked in no area. Each time your name fell from his lips, you found yourself yearning for more and more. You deserved this, you deserved him, his love, his touch, his everything. 

“Joe, I’m so close,” you moaned, your chest heaving as the band in your stomach tightened with each thrust, the room filling with sounds of your pleasure and the wetness below. 

“Mmph, me too,” he whimpered, trying to hold back his release because he wanted to make sure that you felt your high first, just as how it should be. 

You looked down and saw his thick shaft moving in and out of your core, that sight alone made you let go. “Oh- oh,” you croaked as you felt him lift his head and move his hand down to your clit. 

“Come on, baby,” he panted as his fingers toyed with your sensitive clit. “Come for me,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you again. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, pulling his head closer to you at the same time as you moaned into the kiss. Your hips started jerking and bucking up into him, your body starting to tremble under him as you felt your walls spasm and contract around his cock. 

“Joe!” you screamed against his lips after one well-placed thrust, the tension snapping as you came around his cock. You were seeing stars at this point as your release soaked both your lower halves, Joe feeling his cock twitch inside of you. Your reaction, your rolling eyes, and the sounds leaving your lips were pushing him straight toward the finish line. 

“My girl…that’s my girl…,” he rasped as his hips stuttered and his thrusts became erratic, his high practically knocking at the door. “You’re so fucking hot,” he groaned as he watched you feel your high below him, your breathy moans that were filling the room being one of the greatest and prettiest things he had ever heard.

You let out a few more sounds of pleasure as you felt shockwaves throughout your body from your intense orgasm, your body fully limp as he dropped his head and bit down on your shoulder. “Oh, fuck..Y/N,” he moaned as he felt the band in his stomach tighten. He wanted to let go so bad, but he wasn’t going to make this “just good enough” for you. He was going to make this better than anything you’d ever felt before. 

“F- fuck, Joe,” you whispered, coming down from your high just to feel another one building as you felt your walls tightening around his cock again. Before you knew it, his hands were on your waist and he flipped you over so that you were on top. 

“W- what?” you panted as you placed your hands on his beautifully crafted chest, his cock still seated deeply inside of you. Your brain was so fogged up with arousal that you couldn’t comprehend what was going on. 

“Fuck, keep going,” he whimpered, his hands grabbing your waist again as you continued to stare down at him–a frisky grin appearing on your face as you leaned down to give him a passion-filled kiss. 

“You’re the best,” you whispered as you got back up, your hips starting to rock back and forth against his. He looked so right underneath you with his tousled curls and open mouth that was repeating your name over and over, this was meant to happen. Not only was your sexual chemistry on fire, but your emotional chemistry was too. He knew exactly what you wanted, how you wanted it, and knew how to give it to you without you having to say a single thing to him. 

He reached up to cup your breast with one hand, the pad of his thumb rubbing your nipple as you closed your eyes and quickened your pace against him, his arousal just begging to be released. The restraint he had was insane and quite frankly, it was killing him. But this was about you, not him.

“Just like that,” he whimpered, bucking his hips up into your core slowly, helping you reach your second orgasm faster. 

“Joe, I can’t…it’s too- you’re too…,” you said while letting out a shaky breath, this time your climax feeling stronger than the previous one. 

“Yes, you can,” he said as he slid his hand up your back, pushing you down to him and cupping the nape of your neck. “I’m right here,” he softly said against your lips.

“J- Joe,” you whimpered as you hid your face in his neck, his hips snapping into yours as you felt your thighs starting to burn.

“You make me crazy, Y/N,” he groaned as he moved his hand back down to your clit, his voice laced with pure need. “You make me so fucking crazy,”.

“Oh, Joe,” you moaned into his ear, placing a hand on the side of his neck as you opened your mouth to bite his earlobe. A thin layer of sweat was forming on both of you as your movements became more frantic like you were both chasing something you couldn’t get enough of. It was like an insatiable desire for more.

Joe started rubbing circles around your clit, your body reacting with a slight tremble as jolts of pleasure started vibrating through it. Your breathing was getting deeper and deeper and a few breathless seconds later, you felt him pinch your sensitive bud which ultimately set off your release. 

“Joe!” you screamed again as the strength of your orgasm made you sit back up, your movements stilling as you came around his still-moving cock again. “Oh my fucking god. You are not real,” you whimpered while your high washed over you.

“F- fuck. I’m,” Joe choked out, not being able to hold it in any longer. 

You looked down through your messy hair that was falling in front of your eyes and saw his face—specifically his scrunched up nose—and knew that now it was your turn to make him feel good. 

Although you were about two seconds away from passing out and still dealing with the aftershocks of your second high, you leaned down and smashed your lips against his while cupping his face, allowing him to do whatever he needed to feel as good as you did right now. A few more hip snaps later, he emptied himself inside of you—endless ropes of his warm cum filling your already—soaked core. This was the first time you’d ever felt him like this, and it was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Joe was everything you dreamed of and more.

A few minutes later, your body was lethargic as you lay on top of him, his arms tightly wrapped around your tired frame. You felt his hand rubbing the back of your head and playing with the strands of your hair, words of love and affection filling your ears as he went on and on about how perfect you were. 

Joe was truly the man of your dreams. Not only did he do what your ex couldn’t do, he did it twice, and he did it better than anyone else could. All while making you feel safe, comfortable, and in control. He was truly perfect for you in every way possible, emotionally and physically. 

“So?” Joe spoke up, his hand now rubbing slow circles around your back. “How was it?”.

You shifted your head on his chest to look up at him, “Are you god? I think I’ve been sent to heaven,” you giggled. 

“You liked it?” He softly asked again, a shy smile on his face.

“I loved it,” you grinned as you leaned up to peck his lips. “I loved all of it. You’re amazing,”. 

“No, you’re amazing. Seriously. I was already obsessed with you and your personality, but now I’m also obsessed with your body. You’re insanely beautiful and insanely sexy,” he blushed. 

“Awww, stop,” you blushed while patting his bare chest, pressing a few kisses along his pec. 

“Do you still remember their names?” Joe smirked, referring to how he told you he’d make you scream his name so loudly that you’d forget the others. 

Of course, you didn’t, Joe made sure you didn’t. He worshiped your body tonight and his name left your lips like you were chanting a sacred prayer. He was unlike anyone you’d ever been with before, he was special. 

“Whose names?” you grinned up at him. “I only know one name,” you added as you scooted up so that you were by his ear. 

“What name?” Joe said while biting his swollen bottom lip. 

“Joe,” you whispered into his ear, the sultry tone of your voice making Joe instantly pull you right back underneath the covers.

“Joeeee,” you giggled as he flipped you over and the white covers created a cocoon around you two. 

“What?” he grinned down at you. “You thought I was done?”.

“Maybe,” you teasingly shrugged. 

“Well, I’m not. That was just the beginning,” he winked as he leaned down and peppered wet kisses down your abdomen, his head eventually disappearing in between your thighs. 

You looked back up, not knowing what to expect since seemingly you were doing everything with him in one night—not that you were complaining. You hadn’t even mentally prepared yourself for him to go down on you, this position was so incredibly intimate and raw. 

But he didn’t give you a chance to overthink because suddenly, you felt his warm mouth latch onto your swollen clit and a finger thrust into your core, another shock of pleasure vibrating through your body. “Joe,” you moaned loudly, your brain turning off as he threw your leg over his shoulder. The only coherent thought in your head was that he was the best thing that could’ve ever happened to you. 

End of flashback 

“Holy fuck,” you whispered to yourself as you snapped back to the present. The spicy memory made you feel even more needier than before and you had absolutely no idea what to do. You knew he wasn’t going to budge but you definitely were not going to be able to fall asleep like this. “Of course, the universe gave me the sexiest guy known to mankind,” you grumbled as you stuffed your face in your hands, “I can’t stand being away from him,”. You still couldn’t quite believe that he was all yours and would be forever. He was truly one of the most special people you’d ever met in your life and he changed your world in a way you thought was impossible. You were going to marry him in a few short months (or tomorrow based on Joe’s silly drunken thoughts that he would most likely forget about) and get to spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t ask for anything better, your life was perfect. 

You sat on the bed for a few more minutes, thinking of a way to cool yourself down because you could just feel your body getting hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by. All you could think about was Joe.

Your eyes traveled around the room, looking for anything that could calm you down. There was a bottle of wine, but that would just make your hormones skyrocket more than they already were since you were still as drunk as ever from earlier. There was Joe’s stash of edibles, but that would probably make you even more horny. You let out a shaky breath as your eyes moved to the bathroom, an obvious reliever right in front of you the whole time.

“Cold shower, obviously,” you sighed as you quickly got up and walked into the bathroom. 

Meanwhile, Joe was struggling too. Even though it was his idea, it wasn’t being executed successfully. The tent in his pants and the need to feel your lips around him were strong. He refused to get off on his own, so now he was stuck sitting on the bed and staring up at the blank ceiling, wondering if he should cave and go back to your shared room and finish what you started.

“Nope. Not happening,” Joe said as he sat up and shook his head. “I’m marrying her tomorrow, I can wait,” he assured himself.   

Joe was so serious about marrying you tomorrow even if you didn’t believe him, he could wait any longer to fully make you his even though you had only been engaged for a month. He didn’t care that it was going to happen in Vegas or that no family would be here. It would be much more special and intimate if it was just the two of you and truthfully, that was all he wanted. He was down for a big ceremony and party, but as someone who didn’t enjoy big crowds and all eyes being on him (even though he played football in front of 50,000+ fans every week), he would rather do something like this. Plus, something about getting married secretly in Las Vegas at a small chapel was giving him an adrenaline rush; it sounded like much more fun than standing in a big hall in front of hundreds of people who had their eyes glued on him. This way, it was just the two of you.  

You were his dream girl and were finally about to be his forever girl. He couldn’t wait to stand across from his girl at the altar and recite the vows, say the things he needed to say and kiss his wife for the first time. 

He laid back down on the bed, smiling as he imagined what your married life would look like. First, he needed to plan your honeymoon with you. You both had 2 places in mind–Porotifno, Italy, and St. Barths–and since you were having 2 weddings you’d also have 2 honeymoons which meant you could go to both places instead of having to pick one. He couldn’t wait to travel with you more, especially around the world now that he had moved on from his whole ‘I hate traveling’ shtick. There was a whole lot of world out there to see and he couldn’t have asked for a better person to see it with him. Another thing he couldn’t wait to do with you was have kids. Although that was still a few years down the road, he was so excited to watch you grow his child inside your belly. He was so excited to grow his family with you. 

Another thing he was looking forward to was all of your ‘firsts’ as a married couple. The first time you have sex as a married couple, your first vacation, your first big purchase together, your first husband/wife date, your first anniversary, your first Christmas, your first Valentine’s Day, and your first baby together. 

It was all he could think about as he drifted off to sleep with a huge smile plastered on his face. He thought his life up until he met you had been perfect and like a dream–a solid college football career and successful NFL career plus the fame and attention that came with it–but his future with you was even more promising and fulfilling than all of it. 

You were more fulfilling than anything he had in his life. 

The Next Night – STK Steakhouse – Las Vegas, Nevada 

“Ooo, Joe you have to try this Crab Cake,” you chewed as you covered your mouth and handed him a crab cake. “I feel like I’m eating gold right now,”.

“Considering this is one of the most expensive and highly rated restaurants in Vegas, I would expect no less,” he smiled as he took the crab cake and took a big bite, a groan leaving his lips as the bundle of flavors exploded in his mouth. “Holy shit, this is actually amazing,”. 

“I told you,” you giggled while you bumped his leg with yours, then reached for your wine and took a small sip to wash down your food as you were wrapping up dinner. He had brought you out on a date tonight to one of the best restaurants in Vegas, even going so far as renting a private room for you both so you could enjoy the night in private. You weren’t exactly sure why since eating in public was never an issue before, but you decided to let it go. 

The day had passed by pretty quickly up until now as you both kept yourselves busy by relaxing by the pool together and soaking up the sun, Joe didn’t mention his marriage idea at all the entire time which wasn’t surprising for you. You knew that was just one of his drunken words that had no real meaning behind them, so him forgetting about what he said last night wasn’t a big deal. Although it was weird he wasn’t confused when he woke up in a different bedroom in the morning since he seemingly forgot the marriage talk which is how he ended up in that room because of how drunk he was, but you also let that go. 

“You think we’re all done? Or did you want to stay for a little longer,” Joe asked, praying you said that you were good to go so he wouldn’t be late for the time he booked your wedding for. 

Yeah, wedding. 

He didn’t forget. He just decided to keep quiet the whole day so that this moment would be way more memorable. While you were taking a dip in the pool, he found a little classic Vegas chapel down the street from the restaurant he was taking you for dinner and booked a little private ceremony for tonight. All while you were blissfully unaware that this was your last few hours as his fiancee. 

“Uhh, I think so,” you nodded as you looked around. “I’m stuffed and probably would throw up if we ordered dessert,” you laughed. 

“Okay, cool,” he nodded, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs as he took a deep breath.

“But don’t you think it’s a little early to head back? Or did you have something else planned for our little date night since you think absolutely everything through ahead of time,” you said while putting your elbows on the table resting your chin on your knuckles, and looking at him with pure love.

“We’re not heading back,” Joe said matter-of-factly.

“Where are we going then?” you said while raising an eyebrow. 

Joe let out a little laugh as a song lyric from The Dixie Cups entered his head, “Because we're, going to the chapel, and we're gonna get married,” he sing-songed while moving his shoulders back and forth as he pretended to dance around. 

You stared at him for a few seconds, your face not changing as you expected him to say he was just kidding since you two were not that drunk like you were last night for him to be talking like this. 

“W- wait, you’re serious?” you said as you sat up after he didn’t say anything else.

“Run away with me, Y/N,” Joe blurted out as he lost the lighthearted tone in his voice and became serious. “Marry me, right here, right now,”.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and a wave of reality hit you like a brick. He wanted to marry you right now. Like right now. 

“I know it’s not what we planned, but I can’t wait anymore. I know you’re the one and I need to make it officially official, the ring is a great reminder but I want to make you the one for real,” he said as he grabbed your hand, his thumb grazing over your engagement ring. “I booked us a time slot at that chapel down the street. We can go right now, just say the word,”.

You felt your eyes well with tears, he was serious about it. You knew that you were getting married to him now that you were engaged, but the fact that it was this close to actually happening was making your heart stop. You didn’t realize you were really crying until you felt his thumb wiping the falling tears. 

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, baby,” he softly said while cupping your cheek. “If this is too much too fast, I can cancel. I can wait,” he lied. He couldn’t wait, who was he kidding? But if this was too much for you, he could make himself wait. He would do anything for you. 

“I- I thought you were drunk last night and that’s why you said that,” you sniffled. 

“Drunken words are sober thoughts,” he smiled. “I was being serious,”. 

“Y- you really want to marry me right now?” you said while meeting his gentle eyes.

“I’ve never wanted to do something so bad in my entire life,” he said.

“But what about our friends and family? Shouldn’t we wait for our parents? Shouldn’t we talk to them?” you said while placing a hand on top of his.

“Actually, I want it to just be you and me as cliche as it sounds. It’s always been you and me and it’s always going to be you and me, Y/N. You are the most important person in the world to me, I just need you there. I want this moment just for us,” he said while picking up your hand and planting a gentle kiss on it. “We can still have our big wedding in July with everyone like we thought about, but I want this to just be for us. But only if you want that too,” he said while looking down at your ring.

You stayed silent while you thought over it, “He’s thought it all through. He’s thought everything through from the first time we met, to our first date, to our first time, to the proposal, and now this. Whenever Joe set his mind on doing something, he always did it. Whether that was convincing me to go out with him or wanting to make me his forever, he did it. He wanted this with me. He’s always wanted this with me,”. 

“Okay,” you breathed out, a thrill shooting up your spine at the thought of marrying Joe in secret.  

“What?” Joe said while he looked back up.

“Okay,” you smiled again. “I don’t care how we get married, Joey. I’ll marry you in secret, I’ll marry you in front of a thousand people, I’ll marry you on top of the Empire State Building, I’ll marry you drunk, high, naked, you name it. I’ll run away with you,”.

“You’re serious?” Joe asked, his body perking up. “Because if this is a joke, it’s not funny…like I will not forgive you if this is a jo-....,”.

“I’m serious, Joe,” you said as you interrupted his nervous rambling. “Let’s go get married,” you said while pulling his head closer to yours by the nape of his neck. 

Joe bit his bottom lip as a blush grew on his face, “I love you, Y/N. You have no idea how happy you make me,” he said while he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you endlessly, Joe,” you smiled before you tilted your head to press an expressive kiss to his lips. 

“Let’s go get married,” you said against his lips when you pulled away. 

“Let’s go get married,” he softly chuckled, quickly sliding out of the booth and pulling you out with him, his hand holding onto yours tightly. 

He pulled you out of the private room with speed, both of you flying through the crowded dining room while you quickly dodged the waiters and servers. “Joe,” you laughed. “Slow down,”.

“Nope. I have to get us there before you change your mind,” he joked while he glanced back at you.

“Well if that’s the case, then the clock is ticking, Burrow,” you teased as you made it to the front door of the restaurant. 

“Fuck, I didn’t call an Uber,” he realized as he stopped you both before you walked out onto the street. 

“You said it’s down the street right? We can walk,” you suggested. 

“Are you sure? Won’t your feet hurt?” he asked as he inspected your burgundy heel boots. 

“Probably, but it’ll all be worth it in the end,” you said while opening the door and pulling him out onto the street, the fresh breeze taking all of your worries away.

“Okay,” he laughed, the adorable crinkles around his eyes showing up as he tightly held onto your hand again and pulled you down the street. You felt like it was the early days in your relationship again with the way you were sneaking around. In the past, it was sneaking around together to keep your relationship on the low for a little, but now it was sneaking around to get married without anyone knowing. It’s funny how everything had changed in the blink of a crinkling eye.

You were only a few more blocks away from the little chapel before you stopped in your tracks, Joe feeling a tug on his hand and looking back at you. “What’s wrong?”.

“I don’t have a white dress on,” you said while looking down at your black mini-dress. “I can’t get married without a white dress,”.

“Well, I don’t think we’re going to have time to go dress shopping,” Joe laughed. 

“Mmm,” you hummed while looking around the street. “Oh, look,” you said while pointing over at the boutique across the street. “I could find a basic white mini dress in there,” you looked over at him and said. 

Joe looked down at his watch, seeing that you had a few minutes to spare. “I think we have time,”. 

“Okay, good,” you breathed out. “I’ll go, you stay here,”.

“Okay,” he eagerly nodded, feeling you let go of his hand before quickly walking across the street, your sense of urgency making him feel like he was on top of the world. You really wanted this just as bad as he did. 

When you walked into the store, you quickly glanced around to spot a white dress, the store owner noticed your frantic state and spoke up. “Can I help you, young lady?” she asked. 

“Yes, actually,” you said while walking over to the front desk. “I need a white dress,”. 

Her eyes landed on the massive rock on your ringer finger, then broke out into a huge fit of laughter after you said that. “Ohhhh, Stacy owes me $20,” she laughed.

“Excuse me?” you questioned her strange behavior.

“Oh, sorry sweetie. It’s just comical,” she said while getting up and motioning for you to follow her.

“What’s funny?” you asked as you followed her to the back of the store, your eyes widening once you got closer to the wall of white mini-dresses, white heels, and veils. “Holy shit,” you mumbled. 

“You’re surprised? You can’t expect a boutique to be this close to the little chapel and not be stocked up with wedding wear,” she laughed. “You aren’t the first girl to run in here in search of a white dress,”. 

“Clearly,” you said as you walked closer to the display, your eyes looking over the variety of dresses and heels. 

“Stacy, my employee, owes me $20 because she said we weren’t going to get a bride-to-be in the store today,” she said.

“And then I walked in,” you blushed as your eyes instantly landed on the perfect, simple yet glamorous, white mini dress. 

“You sure did,” she smiled as she walked over next to you. “You like this one?” she asked after she saw the spark in your eyes.

“I love it,” you whispered. 

“Oh, here honey,” she said as she spotted a pair of heels that went with the dress. “These go great together,”. 

You looked over at the beautiful pair of white jeweled heels which had flimsy soft white bows tied to the clasps. “This is perfect,” you smiled over at her. 

“Oh my goodness, it has a matching veil too!” she clapped her hands together and grinned before she brought over a delicate shoulder-length veil. 

“Thank you, so so so much,” you smiled as you grabbed the simple yet flawless veil. 

“My pleasure,” she nodded. “Now hurry, let’s get you checked out so that the groom isn’t kept waiting too long,” she laughed as you scurried back over to the front desk. 

“Good idea,” you giggled. “I think if I made him wait any longer, he’d drag me out of the store himself,”.

“Tell me about him,” she said while she quickly started scanning everything. 

“Where do I even start,” you grinned as you looked out the store window and saw Joe rocking back and forth on his feet, the biggest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“He’s my everything. My whole world in the form of a person. He’s the biggest sweetheart I’ve ever met and has shown me a kind of love I never thought I’d ever have. I don’t think I really knew what love felt like until I met Joe. I honestly don’t think I even knew what truly living life felt like before I met him. He keeps me on my toes, acts like my safety net when things get too chaotic, and is the one thing I physically can’t live without,” you blushed as you looked back over at the lady, who was holding a bag with all your things in it. “Oh, you’re fast with it,” you giggled while handing her your card. 

“Well, as I said, you’re not the first bride to run into the store for wedding wear,” she winked, noticing the spark behind your eyes after you finished talking about Joe.

“Yeah,” you laughed as you took the bag. 

“But he sounds like a wonderful man, sweetie. A word of advice, hold onto that love for as long as you can and never let it fade no matter what happens. That spark behind your eyes only comes around so often, it’s rare,” she told you. 

“Thank you, I will,” you nodded. “I appreciate your help tonight,”.

“It’s my pleasure, dear. Enjoy your married life, I wish you the best,” she waved over at Joe through the window before looking back at you. “He looks and sounds like a keeper, hold onto him forever,”. 

“Oh trust me, I will,” you said before thanking her again, then swiftly exiting the boutique and joining Joe back across the street. 

“We good now?” he asked as he grabbed your hand and entwined your fingers again. 

“Yes, Mr. Burrow,” you giggled while leaning up to kiss his cheek.

“Okay, Ms. Y/LN, I think we have a wedding to get to,” he grinned before pulling you down the street again, another soft laugh falling from your lips as another wave of reality came over you. Your whole future was in front of you, right at your fingertips. 

About an hour later

You both were inside the chapel and had finished filling out the paperwork that they needed to approve the marriage license–which apparently needed 90 days to be approved but one mention of Joe’s status changed that pretty quickly. 

Joe was already wearing a black dress shirt and formal-ish pants, so they just gave him a bowtie to finish it off. You two had also decided to keep the custom, special vows for your big wedding so you’d be sticking to the classic ones for tonight. 

After slipping on your dress, heels, and veil, you were standing in front of the mirror and holding your bouquet of white roses. You were thinking about how your life was about to change in a matter of minutes and you still couldn’t quite believe it, you were about to become his wife. 

Joe was about to become your husband. 

You felt your nerves settling in when you looked down at the ring on your finger, inhaling a few deep breaths to compose yourself. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” you told yourself out loud. “This is my wedding. That’s my husband. This is it,” you continued. 

“Y/N, we’re ready,” Vanessa, one of the chapel’s bridal assistants smiled as she entered the room which snapped you out of your daze. 

You took a few more seconds to collect yourself, “Okay,” you breathed out. “Here we go, Y/N. This is what you’ve been waiting for since the day you met Joe,” you thought to yourself before turning around, hearing the soft tune of the music fill the air as you walked through the curtain and made it to the aisle. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you saw Joe standing at the altar with the officiant, his eyes widening once he saw you in your white dress–you looked like an angel. “Oh shit,” he whispered to himself. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled under your breath as you started to walk down the aisle, all your nerves disappearing once you see Joe mouth ‘I love you’ to you. 

You finished walking down the aisle and placed the bouquet down on one of the benches in front of you before you took your place across from Joe. 

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Joe mouthed to you, his heart soaring at the sight of you in a veil and a white dress, only imagining how he’d feel when you’re in your real wedding dress in a few months.

“Not too bad yourself, Burrow,” you mouthed back before you heard the officiant clear his throat. 

“Welcome, everyone. We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Y/N and Joe, two hearts and souls in marriage. This is a day of great joy, for we have come together to recognize the tremendous love and commitment these two share,” he said. 

“Today, we stand together to witness a love story that has been written in the stars, a story that has brought us all here to celebrate the union of two souls who have found their forever in each other. As we gather in this moment, we are reminded that love is not just a feeling but a journey—one filled with laughter, challenges, and countless memories that shape who we are. Today is the beginning of a new chapter, one where two hearts, once separate, now beat as one. It’s a day when promises are made, not just with words but with the deepest parts of our hearts. May this day be a reflection of the love and commitment you share, and may it be the foundation of a marriage filled with joy, compassion, and endless adventures. So, let us celebrate this momentous occasion, as you embark on this incredible journey of life together. Here's to love, laughter, and a lifetime of happiness," he added, the sweet opening remarks making you and Joe both get a little misty-eyed.

“Joe, Y/N, do you stand here today with the intention to be each other’s partner, rock, and best friend for all the days of your lives?” he asked.

You and Joe both looked back at each other, joining your hands together and saying, “We Do,” in unison. 

“Will you love and honor each other as husband and wife for the rest of your lives?” he asked.

“We will,” you both smiled in unison again, Joe giving you a gentle squeeze in return. 

“Joe, do you take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, For better, for worse, For richer, for poorer, In sickness and in health, To love and to cherish, Till death do you part?” he asked, both your hearts about to beat out of your chest. 

“I, do,” Joe nods as he tries to hold back his tears, giving you another squeeze as you feel your heart explode.

“Y/N, do you take Joe to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward, For better, for worse, For richer, for poorer, In sickness and in health, To love and to cherish, Till death do you part?”.

“I, do,” you answer, goosebumps rising on your skin as you feel the room get 10 times brighter. 

“It is my great pleasure to now pronounce you both husband and wife. Joe, you may kiss the bride,” he said. 

Joe quickly pulled you into him and captured your lips in a passion-filled, needy kiss; one that said everything without saying anything. 

You were finally his. You were finally the one. 

His hands settled on your waist before one slowly slid up your back while you looped your arms around his neck and pulled his face closer to deepen the kiss, your lips moving against each other in a familiar dance. After a few heated seconds, you felt him bite down on your bottom lip when you threaded your fingers through his curls, a sound leaving your lips that immediately made you pull away out of sheer embarrassment. 

“Oh my god,” you giggled as he rested his forehead against yours. 

“Damn, wait till we’re back at the hotel, Mrs. Burrow,” he grinned, watching a blush rise on your face after referring to you as his wife.

“Sorry, I can’t help myself, Mr. Burrow,” you teased while nuzzling your nose against his. 

“I can’t believe we did that,” Joe laughed. “We’re crazy,”.

“The craziest,” you agreed. “But I’m glad we did. It was just you and me like it was supposed to be,”.

It was just the two of you, and that made Joe the happiest man on the planet. Nobody could ruin this moment. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he choked out—high on emotions—before pulling you in for a hug. “I love you so much and I can’t wait to show you how much I do for the rest of our lives,”.

You felt the tears coming back when he squeezed you, the tone of his voice enough to make you want to break down into tears. “I love you, Joe. Thank you for being the one,”. 

“No, thank you,” he corrected before pulling away. “Your name was unwillingly carved into my heart since the moment I saw you. Thank you for letting me carve mine into yours,”.

“I didn’t need to let you, Joe. You won my heart over the moment you asked me out on a date” you grinned. 

“I didn’t, but we could go back and forth on this for hours,” he laughed as he grabbed your hand. 

“That’s debatable, babe, but I’ll let it go for tonight,” you chuckled while dropping your head on your shoulder.

God, Joe could never get tired of hearing that adorable laughter. And now he’d get to hear it for the rest of his life. “You ready to be a Wife?” he asked as you felt him press a kiss to your hair.

“Mhmmmm,” you grinned while turning your head to look up at him.

“You ready to be a Husband?” you asked while kissing his neck.

“Mhmmmm,” he hummed while dropping his hands to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze that made a twinge of arousal shoot up your spine. “You wanna get out of here?” he whispered in your ears. “I think it’s time for us to consummate the marriage, my lovely and sexy Wife”.

“You’ve been watching way too much Bridgerton with me,” you shook your head as you pulled away and looked up at him, his heated gaze making you feel naked even though you were fully clothed. 

“But yeah, let’s go, my handsome and precious Husband,”.

–To Be Continued–

[strawburry01]

The Scientist

Ford Pines x Fem! Reader

Summary: Bill disrupts a wedding

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I highly recommend reading all previous parts before this for maximum oof-age. I hope you enjoy and I'm sorry I get great satisfaction from writing unhappy things. 500 likes and I'll write their happy ending.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

It had been a few years since you and Ford moved to Gravity Falls now. You finally moved from your ramshackle cabin into a cozy wooden A-Frame (you insisted on an A-Frame as you always loved the way they looked). Ford and you had worked on building a deep lab in the basement in order to keep it safe from the random storms and power outages, while you kept your growing photography and videography library upstairs. You collected random antiques from stores and sidewalks to add to the house to make it feel a little more lived in. Ford chuckled as he watched you perfectly balance an ornate hourglass you had bought on top of a jammed globe. Satisfied you brushed the dust off your hands and stepped besides Ford to look at your growing mantelpiece.

“I’m thinking about going into interior design if this whole cryptid hunting stuff doesn’t work out,” you grinned. Ford scoffed and put an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“The whole cryptid hunting stuff is going fine though. I’m just having a bit of a plateau,” he mumbled as he kissed your head. You cleared your throat. “We- we’re having a bit of a plateau,” he quickly corrected himself, his face turning red. 

It was true, the hunting had been stalling a little bit. Ford’s focus had turned from recording these anomalies to trying to track where it was all exactly coming from. It was the real scientist in him needing to know where everything was coming from. On the opposite side was you, who was content to continue trying to get better pictures, better recordings, better visuals of these anomalies. Oftentimes you’d tape or clip pictures into Ford’s journals as you got better so they didn’t just have his scribbles to describe the beasts. You were happy for once in your life, you felt content living with the love of your life in a beautiful, albeit spooky, little town. You were pretty sure Ford felt the same way, if he ever let himself feel accomplished, rather than just continuing to pine over the next question and torturing himself over the solutions.

A few weeks later you woke up groggily checking the alarm. Ford had just slammed the front door and was stumbling back into the house. It was 3:00 am. 

“Hon?” you shouted out as you sat up in your shared bed. You heard him pause and slowly walk to the bedroom door. He stood in the doorway, staring at you for a second too long until shaking his head and snapping back.

“Hey, sorry about that dear, I um-” he said as he slid his shoes and coat off onto the ground, “guess I lost track of time in the cave I was exploring,”. He huffed and thumped into bed besides you as you went back under the covers.

“Are you sure?” you asked, as you carefully took his glasses off his face and set them on the nightstand.

“Mmmm, positive,” he said without hesitation as he traced along your arm with his eyes closed.

“Alright. Sleep well hon,” you said as you kissed his forehead and fell back into your own sleep.

Unfortunately he wasn’t quite the same after that night. He started spending longer hours in the basement. He started staring off into space noticeably more. And strangest of all he was talking to himself more. He was still the same Ford to you though, always snapping out of whatever trance he wrapped himself up into, and he was always endlessly grateful whenever you’d bring coffee or lunch down to him. He seemed revitalized in a sense though, so you didn’t want to discourage his new quirks. You finally did crack and force him to tell you what was happening when you caught him calling Fiddleford McGuckett one day.

“Stanford Pines you haven’t talked to that man since we left Backupsmore! What in the hell is going on?” you demanded with crossed arms as he hung up the phone. He opened his mouth and tried to start a sentence a few times. 

“I’m building a portal,” he finally stammered out. You raised an eyebrow. There were a few random metal supports and debris cluttered in the lab basement, but you had no inkling that’s what it was going to be used for.

“What kind…of portal?” you continued, unmoving. Ford awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away again. 

“I’ve been consulting with someone. They said it would explain all the weirdness and strangeness of Gravity Falls,” he said. The room got cold when he said it.

“Who are you consulting Ford,” you asked again, trying not to overthink the way it really did feel like there was another person in the room now. 

“It was a deal. With someone, well, something, named Bill Cipher. He’s helping me with all of this. He’s a being from centuries ago, and that’s all I can really say,” he sighed, looking back at you, realizing how unsure of all of this you were. He stepped forward and held your hands in his. “I promise, it’s all okay dear. I’m being safe. This portal is what will put our names in the history books,” he said with a gentle squeeze. You looked up into his eyes and could see hope and excitement for the first time in a long time. 

“Okay…” you sighed with a small smile. Ford wrapped you into a hug and you laughed at him slightly crushing you. “Okay, okay, okay, just let me know what I can do to help huh?” you laughed with a sigh as Ford began rambling off all the next steps. 

Later that night you sat in your dark room, listening to the assorted thumps and sizzles from the basement. You could hear Ford talking to whoever this Bill person was. His high pitched shrieking of a voice was hard to miss. But you knew if you went downstairs there wouldn’t be anyone but Ford. You’d tried to catch Bill before, but to no avail. He always zapped out of existence whenever you would turn the corner. 

“Stupid to be jealous of a fuckin’ triangle,” you mumbled to yourself as you finished a glass of wine. You knew that much. That it was some sort of manic triangle. Ford had shown you that much in his journal. You walked down to your kitchen and left the glass in the sink.

“Ford! I’m going to bed!” you shouted down the stairs into the basement. You heard him scuffle and quickly run up the stairs. Your heart melted as he held your face and kissed you. 

“I’ll be there soon dearest,” he smiled. You smiled back and nodded. You were just overthinking everything. It was all going to be okay.

Fiddleford showed up a few days later and started joining Ford in the basement for long hours. Bill’s voice disappeared which was a nice break, and it was pleasant getting to talk to Fiddleford again after so many years. You would make dinner (or more often pick it up from some restaurant) and force the guys to come up and eat with you at the table. It was like you were all back in university. 

“So how long until there’s a mini Ford running around?” Fiddleford asked one night when you all decided to get into the liquor cabinet. Fiddleford was laying on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling, with you and Ford draped over the couch. Both of you reddened and avoided eye contact, unable to think of what to say.

“Well I’ve always thought I’d want to get married first,” you said, breaking the silence, “so the dress would fit, obviously,” you drunkenly giggled. Ford absentmindedly placed a hand on your knee and laughed as he took another swig of his drink. You two had talked about marriage once. Near the beginning of your relationship. You both had poor representations of marriage at your respective homes, which made you both hesitant of commitment to that scale, but you agreed to play it by ear. 4 years later you were still playing it by ear.

“What’re you WAITING FOR FORD,” Fiddleford drunkenly shouted from the floor, “We don’t have all day!” he declared before passing out in snores on the floor. You laughed and laid your head on Ford’s shoulder.

“He hasn’t changed much,” you giggled. 

“His tolerance hasn’t gotten much better either,” Ford remarked. You two both sat in silence listening to the hum of the generators. “Are you good dear?” he asked, obviously referencing Fiddleford’s outbursts.

“Yes love,” you sighed, as you closed your eyes.

It was another average drizzly pacific northwest day when shit hit the fan. You were sitting on the porch taking pictures of a deer nearby eating from a brush when the ground underneath you shook. You were used to random earthly shakings but Fiddleford quickly stormed out shortly after. 

“Fiddleford what’s-” you tried to ask as you stood up to follow after him. 

“Do NOT trust him!” he shouted as he threw open his car door, “That portal is nothing but pure evil Y/N. Get out of here while you still can,” he said with a furrowed brow before peeling away in his car. You stood in stunned silence as Ford threw the door open a few seconds later. He let out a defeated sigh as he saw Fiddleford driving away.

“What the hell did you do?!” you asked under your breath, not looking over.

“I-I don’t know,” Ford said, “he got sucked into the portal…and saw something,”.

“You’d tell me if we were in danger, right Ford?” you asked, as you finally looked over at him. He nodded silently. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he stated, “I’m not working with Bill anymore. It’s not worth it,” he sighed as he sat on the porch and held his head in his hands. “I got blinded by the potential for fame. It’s not worth losing my friends and love over,” he said softly. You sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He wrapped his arms around your waist and the two of you sat still as the rain pattered around you. You never told him but you could feel him crying, just a little. 

Ford quickly began installing precautions to keep Bill out. He insisted on installing a plethora of metal plates around the house. He kept trying to convince you to get a metal plate installed in your head but you were able to convince him you weren’t in danger. You’d never seen Bill before. The rain turned into spring and flowers began to blossom around the yard. 

One day you were out picking them to make a bouquet for the dining table with Ford watching you on the porch. He was back to where he had been before meeting Bill, but he seemed more content. Outwardly at least. He read more, and criticized himself less. He was taking a break from reading when he saw you standing in the field picking flowers and kneeling by every animal you saw to say hello to it. At that moment he realized.

“Can we get married?” he asked, when you came back to the porch. You nearly fell backwards before jumping into Ford’s lap, knocking off his book, and smothering him in kisses.

“Of course we can Ford,” you said through your kisses.

It was a short turnaround. The next week Ford had found his suit and you had gotten a wedding dress from town. It was long and flowing and got Ford’s approval for having renaissance-esque sleeves and details, which made you roll your eyes a little. You two didn’t know anyone else in town well enough to invite them to a ceremony, and neither of you wanted to invite family. Ford felt guilty about having nobody so he invited the colony of gnomes in exchange for hors d’oeuvres. So that’s what was determined. You were able to scrounge up enough random chairs to have a few spots for them to sit with you and Ford facing each other in front. You had done your makeup and hair, which was the first time Ford had ever really seen you try to do something with your hair which left him slack jawed. All of the gnomes also oohed and awed when you stepped out. You smiled when you faced Ford. The two of you agreed to exchange vows and then you’d sign the marriage certificate and turn it in the next day at the courthouse. 

You bit your lip and opened your mouth to start when the ground shook and the string lights you had hung up went out. The power inside the house went out entirely. 

“Peculiar,” Ford said under his breath. 

“Just a moment folks, we’ll be right back after a few messages,” you said, trying to keep the crowd happy, “take a snack break,” you said, gesturing to the table of random snacks you’d gotten for them all. 

“I can turn the breaker back on downstairs,” Ford said as he stepped into the house.

“Here I think I have the flashlight,” you said as you thumped the flashlight you kept in the utensil drawer. It flickered to life. Ford took a second and nodded. The two of you made your way downstairs to the lab basement, Ford supplying a six-fingered hand to hold to make sure you didn’t trip. 

Once downstairs it was obvious that something was wrong. The portal was still up and whirring. A haze of blue swirls in its center.

“Ford I thought you turned this off,” you said.

“I couldn’t just- turn it off,” he mumbled under his breath rubbing the back of his neck, “it’s been months of work. I figured leaving it running and able to be returned to would be…fine,” he said sheepishly. You chewed the inside of your cheek, looking at it. He had a point, but it was also a memento to losing his dearest friend. Research be damned.

“Ford, I need to know you’re looking to the future and not staying in the past if we get married,” you said, feeling guilty about the ultimatum, but knowing it was the only way. He pushed up his glasses and nodded.

“You’re right,” he said, “besides, there’ll be something better than this piece of junk,”. He pushed the button on a platform and the portal quickly fizzled and closed in on itself, leaving the room engulfed in darkness for a second before the lights flickered back on overhead. 

“Hey look at that,” you remarked, looking up, “bet our electricity bill is about to get a lot lower mister,” you smirked as you tapped Ford’s chest.

“Stanford, you didn’t tell me she had a sense of humor!” a sickeningly familiar voice said. Ford quickly pushed you behind him as you both turned to see the floating triangle form of Bill Cipher in the air. It was your first time seeing the thing that had taken up so much of Ford’s time.

“Bill, why are you here? The deal’s off,” Ford shouted.

“I can’t believe I didn’t get an invite to the wedding! Keeping it intimate with just friends and family I see,” Bill continued on his own as his eye contorted into a video of the gnomes outside waiting.

“Answer the question Bill,” Ford demanded. You hadn’t seen him ever get this serious. 

“Well Fordsy you broke our deal, but don’t worry, there’s a way to get it back on track!” Bill’s voice pinged through the basement, “Y’see, you take something I love-” he said, blinking into the now empty space of the portal. You gripped Ford’s forearm.

“Ford I’m scared-” you said softly.

“I think it’s only fair if I take something you love,” Bill chirped, appearing in front of you two again.

“Don’t you dare Bill,” Ford shouted as he held your hand. 

“Not convincing! Boop!” Bill’s voice pinged and with that, you were gone. 

One moment you were on Earth, in your universe, and the next thing you knew you were falling through space and time, seeing eons of other planets pass by as you floated through free fall. 

After what felt like decades of falling through nothingness, but also everything, you slammed into the dirt of an apocalyptic planet. You grunted as you lifted yourself up, seeing the smoky, forgotten landscape stretch out in front of you. 

Fuck.

Back in the basement, millions of universes and timelines away, Ford screamed at Bill. 

“What did you do to her?!”.

“I evened the deal, Stanford calm down!” Bill responded, rolling his single eye, “besides she was getting in the way of your work, you should be thanking me,”. 

After that, Ford’s world changed. He installed a metal plate in his head to keep Bill out for good and got serious about trying to hide how to reinstall the portal. He hid his journals throughout the town and decided to call his brother to properly take care of the last one. Take it so far that nobody would ever find it. He’d get you back on his own. He’d figure it out. He just couldn’t let Bill ever get the satisfaction of the portal. 

There was a knock on the door and Ford kicked it open, crossbow aimed. It was his brother. He breathed out a sigh of relief and dragged him in.

“Damn what happened to this place? What happened to your woman Ford?” Stan asked, looking around the now cluttered house.

“He took my wife, and I need to make sure he doesn’t take anything else from anyone else,” Ford muttered, “listen there isn’t much time and I’ve made a huge mistake. I don’t know who I can trust anymore,”.

“Hey easy there let’s talk this through okay?” Stan said as he looked around the house, slowly realizing his brother may be crazy.

“I have something to show you. Something you won’t believe,” Ford sighed as he turned to face his brother.

“Look, I’ve been around the world okay? Whatever you’re going to show me I’ll understand,” Stan shrugged.

It was safe to say Stan did not understand. And Stan did not understand when Ford shoved the journal into his chest demanding his brother to take it to the ends of the earth to hide. 

It was safe to say that you and Ford were both tumbling through endless dimensions together, but also so far apart.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 1: Pegging - Mafia!Stucky

Summary: Steve had once instructed Bucky how to pleasure you, but what happens when you’re the one being given the instructions?

(this is basically part 2.5 to my fic 'Steve's Birthday Wish') Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome f/m/m, polyamorous, pegging, strap-on, size kink, dom/sub, pet names, scratching, kissing, handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, anal, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link

Steve Rogers, the leader of the Rogers Mafia, the most renowned organisation throughout Brooklyn, was a highly inquisitive gang member. He had to be in his line of work to continue deceiving the cops or work with people who were so dangerous he didn’t dare to even blink more than necessary whilst in their presence.

Due to the threatening line of work, Steve had to be prepared for anything, making quick decisions to protect his friends, family and business in the heat of the moment. Over time, this could strain him, verging on feeling burnt out; therefore, he needed others to cling to and help unwind, where you and Bucky would always thrive.

However, it wasn’t so much that Steve would lie down and expect the two of you to care or pleasure him; it was quite the opposite. His ideas usually consisted of kinky scenarios you would never even dream of thinking about.  For example, the only reason Bucky was in the relationship now was that Steve had suggested that his second-in-command fuck his girlfriend whilst following his instructions with where to touch you. Never would the thought have crossed your mind to include Bucky in a sexual situation as not only was he your bodyguard but Steve’s best friend, but now, the three of you were inseparable, and you couldn’t imagine it any other way.

This all leads to a dark autumn night, the leaves covering the ground in a sea of burnt orange and brown shades, the sun having set hours ago over the tall Brooklyn buildings as the weather changes. These earlier nights, however, did nothing to stop Steve with his intense working schedule, and neither did it for Bucky, as they both had been in the office at your home for hours on end. Even as you wished them a good night did neither man stop to have a break; only when Bucky glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearing midnight did he mutter that he was going to join you in bed, kissing Steve’s temple tenderly and murmuring for him not to be long. He all but collapsed into bed, only just managing to strip down to his boxers before wrapping his body around yours, his metal arm sliding beneath your head as the other cocooned around your chest and hand resting over your heart, his face nuzzling into the back of your neck as the feeling of your heartbeat lulled him into a deep sleep.

Sometime later, you found yourself waking, detecting warmth behind you but not in front, which felt unnerving and like something was missing, which happened to be Steve. Carefully reaching across the bed, you grasped your phone and clicked the button to see the time was nearing 3 a.m. and still no sign of your blonde boyfriend.

“Is he still working?” Bucky’s voice croaked, startling you, having not realised he had woken from your slight movement.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go and find him”, you respond whilst untangling your limbs from his. Bucky sighed away, the sleep still settled heavily in his body, before following you, not bothering to pull on any clothes as you’d stolen his oversized shirt from where it lay on the floor. It took only seconds to walk across the hall and find Steve in the same position as hours ago. Your voice was soft as you explained, “Steve, you can’t work 24 hours a day; you must sleep at some point. The bed’s getting so cold without you.” Your bottom lip pouted dramatically as you stood on the other side of his desk, looking at him with wide, sad eyes and fingers teasingly stroking the edge of the oak surface.

The corner of Steve’s lips turned up as he took in your sleepy appearance and then over to his just as tired boyfriend over your shoulder. “Is Bucky not keeping you warm?” he asked, his voice deep and full of jest.

Bucky rushed up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him as you squealed in surprise, “I’m doing a perfect job, actually”. You melted into the embrace, tilting your head to the side so he could dramatically kiss your cheek with an audible smooch noise.

The brunette man dropped into the leather chair behind him, pulling you with him. You laughed at the sudden movement but quickly righted your position to feel more comfortable, turning slightly so that your legs were slung over his lap, hands resting against his toned shoulder and face resting on his chest.

Steve watched you curiously, especially the skin of your bare legs as he rested his chin on his closed fist, the material of his black button-up shirt straining to keep his muscles contained. You noticed the look and gave him a flirtatious smile whilst reaching up to scratch your nails through Bucky’s buzzcut hair. “What’s going on that’s keeping you up for so long and can’t wait for the morning?”

Steve sighed and leaned back in his bulky leather chair, causing it to squeak under the strain of his massive muscular body. For once, Steve looked to be contemplating something and being careful how to phrase his words before explaining, “I’ve actually been thinking about you two and distracting myself with work”.

You could feel Bucky adjusting his position as he frowned, “What about us, Stevie?” His tone was calm, but you became more aware, fingers pausing with their idle distractions as your attention fixed completely on Steve.

“I’ve bought you both a present”, Steve simply explained, offering no further description and leaving you both with more questions than answers.

“Are you going to tell us, or will we forever remain in suspense?” Bucky drawled tiredly, his hand beginning to stroke a swirling pattern against your ticklish thigh.

You yawned from the comforting touch, leaning further into Bucky again, eyes feeling increasingly heavier with each passing second as you struggled to stay awake. 

Steve’s ocean-blue eyes flicked between his two lovers as he continued to be careful with his wording. “I’m not being upfront about the gift because I’m unsure if you’d be into it. Wait, let me rephrase that, Bucky, I know you’d be into it, and I sure as hell would be, but little miss Sleepy head over there is the one I’m not sure about”.

Your posture straightened as you pushed off Bucky’s chest to give Steve a toothy grin, “I’d be up for whatever you have bought us!” you say happily, being a people pleaser and automatically agreeing to it.

Steve smiled, knowing you’d already give this sort of response. “You don’t even know what it is yet, baby”, he laughs under his breath before reaching next to his chair and lifting the gift onto the desk.

A confused frown settled on your expression as you visually inspected the boxed gift. “You want to fuck me with a dildo? But you’ve both done that in the past anyway-” Steve’s shake of his head stopped your words.

The man then looked away from you towards Bucky and asked, “Do you remember the first time Bucky touched you? I want to do something similar, but I want you to touch Bucky while I tell you what to do. How does that sound?” His eyes flicked back to you, waiting for your answer.

“Good. It sounds good.” Your words came out with a rushed, warmed breath as your body heated from head to toe; all lingering exhaustion suddenly disappeared. You thought more on it; you were always the submissive one in the relationship, so at least Steve was still technically in charge of the fucking, but the thought of Bucky lying down with you pleasuring him in such an intimate and dominant way, him allowing you to fuck his body, would he even want that? Sitting in Bucky’s embrace, you turned your full attention to him. “How do you feel about it?”

The handsome smirk already displayed across his face was answer enough, but then he readjusted in his seat so that his half-hardening cock brushed against your lap. Bucky leaned his face closer to yours, confidently stating, “I’d want anything you’re willing to give me, mama”.

And this was how Steve’s latest idea had you standing in your bathroom at 3:30 am, completely naked and stepping into a harness as Steve crouched down to help you into it, tightening the straps until comfortable. You were surprised just how cosy it was as the straps wrapped around your hips and between your legs, resting over your cunt without irritation.

Looking down, you couldn’t help but giggle at seeing the dildo pointing out from between your legs. It was thick, probably the same thickness as Steve, which you had a secret suspicion was on purpose; it even had veins along the shafts and balls beneath. Almost on instinct, you gripped it, running your hand up and down just to feel what it was like, but then the searing gaze of Steve’s caught your eye as his hands rested on your thighs.

“Why does that turn me on so much?” Steve mumbled as he stood, dipping to kiss the pulse point on your neck. You lean into the touch, especially as his hands grasp your waist and pull you closer to his naked body, his cock already hard and flush against your abdomen. “I’m half tempted to just ask you to use it on me”, Steve suggested, leaning back to look down at your body to stare at the toy that rested against his thigh.

Before you could ponder over his words, he gently directed you back towards the bedroom where Bucky was naked and lying in the middle of the giant bed, his metal arm casually under his head as he waited for you both to return.

Bucky’s cock was already hard with anticipation and resting against his abdomen, red and visibly pulsing with desire. His eyes darted from your fake cock to Steve’s real one, a smile brightening his handsome face as he sat up on his elbows, announcing, “I can’t fucking wait for this”.

The warmth behind your back disappeared as Steve dragged a cushioned chair to the side of the bed, extending his arm towards Bucky to encourage you to approach your boyfriend. Bucky licked his lips, sitting up fully to help you climb onto the bed and straddle his lap, hands resting on his shoulders and the dildo awkwardly hitting Bucky’s chest as you hadn’t been careful where it was positioned.

You giggled, flustered, hiding your face behind your hair to avoid ruining the moment, but Bucky tilted your chin up so your eyes met his bright blue orbs. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me, Doll”.

The tension that you hadn’t realised was thick in your shoulders loosened as you relaxed further into his touch, fingers caressing his cheeks and gliding over his stubble as his cold and warm hand smoothed over your hips, pulling you closer over his thighs as your dildo brushed his cock. The two of you simultaneously turned towards Steve, waiting for instructions. Still, all he was doing was looking happily and lovingly at you both before he decided, “Kiss each other, make sure you tease him real good, Baby”.

You looked from one man to another and didn’t waste another second before pulling Bucky in for a heated kiss. Lips slid and massaged against each other as he tilted his head first, deepening and thrusting his tongue into your mouth to taste you, moaning as he did so. It was an automatic response to roll your hips and then brush your breasts against his chest, your nipples pebbling at the contact.

Then there were your fingers; you didn’t know where to touch him first because you wanted to touch him everywhere. But you remained on his face for a moment, over his cheek, his jaw, pulling him closer and holding him there before moving to other areas. Your nails scratched over his shoulders, careful not to irate the joining between his flesh and metal arm before running your fingers down each of his muscled arms, enjoying the contrast of the metal components and then the warmth from his muscles on the other arm.

You were loving every hitch of his breath against your mouth, the throb of his cock that brushed against your thigh, but then, Bucky was doing his own teasing. His large hands cupped your arse, massaging the cheeks and pulling you closer until there wasn’t a gap between your fronts. Both of you were grinding against each other, releasing sweet little moans to show how much you were adoring the other.

In fact, the two of you were getting so into it that the whole notion of the strap-on was a distant memory until Steve’s voice interrupted as he instructed, “Bucky, why don’t you touch her cock”.

You couldn’t feel anything at first because it was a sex toy, but then the harness straps tightened around your hips and between your legs, as Bucky's metal hand moved up and down your thick shaft. You broke the kiss, desperate to see the sight as you looked down between your bodies as he even brushed his thumb over the tip as if he was spreading the precum over the dildo. You were mesmerised, moving your hips in a way that the cock brushed into his circled fist.

Bucky was breathing heavily as he moved his lips to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses and then scraping his sharp, straight teeth against your pulse point, making your moans deepen in pitch, more wetness forming between your legs and soaking the harness strap.

It was a new form of erotism to see Bucky jerking off your fake cock, as if it was a real one; even though you had seen him doing the same movements to Steve, it still made you feel hot under the skin. Especially when you could see how much he was being turned on by it all, his precum coating your thigh from where you were grinding against his shaft.

Steve was leaning forward in the chair, his hands clasped together as he rested them on his knees, his eyes moving up and down your bodies as he tried to not touch his cock for as long as possible, playing his own erotic game. “Think he needs some stretching now; why don’t you lie Bucky back and work your magic. Remember, don’t listen to his whining; just listen to me, Baby Girl”, Steve continued to instruct.

You pushed lightly against Bucky’s shoulders, and he lay back against the soft sheets; you took a moment to take in the beauty of his swollen lips, glazed-over bright eyes and his chest broad and decorated with red lines from where you’d been scratching him.

Trying to maintain confidence, you smiled seductively down at him before beginning a taunting crawl backwards down his body, not keeping your eyes off of his as you stroked the tip of your cock along his lean muscles as you moved.

Settling between his heavy thighs, you didn’t start immediately stretching him, instead continuing to arouse him further by starting with your tongue licking up the entire length of his cock, feeling the soft yet hard member as it throbbed. Bucky gasped, looking down his body to you on your knees, sucking him off, starting slow, tasting the salty clear juices bubbling at the tip before letting the tip rest heavily against your tongue. You sucked him gently at first, the mushroom head of his cock sensitive from the gasps and groans coming from the man beneath you. Further, you took him into your mouth until he tickled the back of your throat.

Only you didn’t stop there as you pulled off the tip with an audible pop before delving south, sucking his balls into your mouth, a move that you knew drove him insane, and you were greeted by his hips thrusting into the air, his cock throbbing, begging to be touched again.

“You’re doing so well teasing him, Sweetheart”, Steve suddenly mumbled from beside you, still on the chair but finally giving in to his internal game as he was stroking his own cock slowly, his hand squeezing and tugging on the end and then down the length.

Seeing the glorious sight beside you of Steve masturbating and Bucky led out in front of you, the ache between your legs was now becoming nearly painful. You were absent-mindedly rutting your hips onto the mattress, letting the strap of the black harness push against your cunt, trying to relieve some of the need.

Reaching over Bucky’s hairy thighs, you fumbled around on the bed from where you’d caught sight of the bottle of lube hidden within the sheets. Finally, you found it and quickly squirted some on your index finger.

Bucky heard the cap of the lube opening and immediately opened his legs to give you a little more room and better access to your finger's intended goal. Releasing your mouth’s grip on his balls, you licked his inner thighs, teasing him further before stroking the lube around his asshole, ensuring it was thoroughly covered before applying some pressure.

Quickly you could breach through the ringed muscle, and simultaneously, you sucked his length back into your mouth. You worked your digit in and out for a minute before adding another finger, angling and curling them until you massaged his prostate.

“Fuck, that feels so good, Doll, don’t fucking stop; you’re doing so well”, Bucky praised, which pulled a smile to your lips as you were still sucking him off. You moan to add more stimulation before adding a third finger. Bucky almost whimpered at the intrusion, more precum leaking onto your tongue as he begged, “More, I want more”.

Steve’s chair creaked as he leaned forward again, and his voice drew your attention to him as he demanded, “Remember, don’t listen to him. Just listen to me”. So this is what you did, as you didn’t rush to do anything further to Bucky, making sure his hole relaxed around your fingers. Bucky sometimes liked to rush moments like this to get to the main event, not caring about the burn from the stretch or any discomfort as he only needed and wanted to be fucked so Steve usually had to be firm with him to make sure he was thoroughly prepped before continuing any further.

You were thankful for Steve’s directions, even though you did all the movements. It was nice that Steve could still tell you when and how to touch Bucky, and now you had a slight inclining as to how Bucky felt all that time ago when he’d first touched you with Steve’s instructions.

“Add another finger”, Steve encouraged, his hand returning to his own cock, never taking his eyes off of every little gasp that Bucky whimpered. Your fourth finger inserted into Bucky as your mouth continued to tease and tempt Bucky closer to the orgasm that you knew he was dangerously close to. You were shocked to have so many fingers into his hole, having never usually been the one to stretch him out, but then you remembered just how big Steve’s fingers were, and he usually prepped Bucky with more force than your dainty fingers were doing.

The mafia leader finally stands up from his perched position, but only so that he can sit next to Bucky’s head, his hard soothing over the man's throat and forcing him to look up at him. “How does she feel?”

“So fucking good”, Bucky groaned as he began to rock his hips to push your fingers deeper. “But”, he continued, “if she keeps sucking me off like that, I’m going to cum before we even get started”.

You pull off with a sheepish smile, looking between your two boyfriends, but you keep your fingers inside. Steve smirked at you briefly before dipping his face to kiss Bucky, holding his hand around his throat and forcing his tongue into the other's mouth. You watched, all hot breaths and swapping saliva, battling for dominance that both wanted and neither would be willing to succumb to. Only as you removed your fingers from Bucky did the man force his head away from Steve to look down at you.

“Please, fuck me already, hot mama”.

You looked towards Steve, waiting for him to tell you to do as Bucky wished verbally but instead, he moved off the bed and came up behind you, kneeling on the bed. Without a word, he helped you to your knees, pushing back Bucky’s legs even further so that you had better access to move forward. With further lube coating the dildo between your legs, Steve pointed the toy towards Bucky’s prepped and begging hole.

Gently, Steve nudged you forward, slowly and watching Bucky’s expressions over your shoulders as inch after inch of your cock stretched the man’s asshole. You were in awe at seeing Bucky’s reaction, the way his fists gripped the sheets beside him, his cock dribbled with his juices and was red and aching against his abdomen. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth gaped open so that all his gasps were unfiltered.

The man behind you moved his hands to your hips, where they rested warm and heavy against your skin, pushing you further and further until your hips were flush against Bucky and the length of the blue dildo was penetrated within him.

It took a couple of thrusts to know how you were supposed to move, finding the right rhyme that felt good for you and Bucky, who was an absolute mess beneath you. You started slow and shallow, knowing that the dildo was moving deep and stretching areas your fingers couldn’t reach.

You were also distracted by Steve, who had begun to kiss along your bare shoulder, up the length of your sensitive neck and to the shell of your ear, where he nibbled on the lobe. “Do you like seeing Bucky like this beneath you? Do you see why we both love being dominant? There’s nothing better than seeing your lover sprawled beneath you, responding so well to your touches, until they're sobbing with need, their thoughts only of you and nothing else. I love it so much, making you feel good and seeing you make Bucky feel good”.

You’d begun thrusting harder, driven by Steve’s words and moaning yourself at his explanation. But then you’re halting as Steve starts to move your thighs apart so that he can slip his fingers from your hips, over your mouth and between your legs, pressing on the harness directly over your clit.

“Let me just move these out of the way. I bet you’re dripping, aren’t you, baby?” Steve mumbled against your neck as he moved the straps to the side to caress his fingers through your drenched folds. He chuckled as he confirmed his suspicions, “Always so wet for us; you’re just such a good girl. I think it’s about time to treat our good girl; what do you think, Buck?”

“If you don’t fuck her, I will”, Bucky decided as his hands released their grip on the sheets to begin fondling your tits, twisting and flicking on your nipples and making your hips snap forward harshly.

Steve shifted once again behind you, and before you could even moan his name, his cock slid between your legs and pushed into your soaked, aching pussy. Your hands reached out to grab onto anything and ended up grasping Bucky’s wrists, your eyes shutting and hips pausing as you thrived at the stretching from the Blonde’s cock.

Bucky readjusted his hands so that both of your fingers were linked together, holding you up as you took a moment to get used to the size of Steve as he kissed along your neck to help soothe you. “Feeling good, Sweetheart?” Steve asked, smugness evident in his tone.

“So-... So good”, you stuttered over your words as you tried to accommodate his length, groaning as he finally bottomed out and his tip pushed into your cervix.

“Now the real fun begins”, Steve grunted as he pulled out and pushed back in, causing your hips to snap forward and fuck into Bucky. The two of you gasped at the movement, and then you truly realised Steve’s plan. In this position, as Steve fucked into you, it caused you to thrust into Bucky so effectively; Steve was fucking both of you at the same time, which was probably why he had found a dildo that was similar in size to his own cock.

“Holy shit!” Bucky groaned, his back arching as his hands gripped tightly around yours as Steve began to move faster, the wet sounds echoing around the bedroom as the morning sun began to seep through the gap in the curtains.

Steve rested one hand against your hip, and the other reached around your body to grab your hand, pulling it out of Bucky’s grasp but only so that he could move it down to the man’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his shaft and then covering your hand in his. Matching his thrust, Steve used your hand to jerk off Bucky, and this only made your walls tighten around Steve at seeing the man beneath you crying out.

You knew Bucky was trying not to cum, Steve knew Bucky was trying not to cum, and Bucky was desperately in his own world of attempting to prolong the pleasure. He never wanted it to end. Even as his shaft hardened and his moans became more urgent, he still tried to will his body to not orgasm.

However, this all went out of the window as you had the sudden confidence to say, “I want you to cum for us, Bucky; I know you want to”.

It was almost instantaneous. Bucky’s eyes shut as his back arched further, his hands falling back to his side as long streaks of hot cum lathered up his chest as he came hard, his hips thrusting around your dildo and his cock into your hand.

Steve grunted over your shoulder, his movements quickening as he reached his peak, but he, like Bucky, tried to hold it back. Releasing the grip on Bucky’s spent cock, he reached between your thighs and stroked against your clit, pressing harshly and snapping his hips into yours.

It was like a burst of warmth and tingles spread from your abdomen, over your pussy and down your thighs as you came, slumping forward against Bucky’s chest as you lost any energy you had. Your pussy spasmed around Steve and he heaved a finally harsh thrust into you before he was pouring his seed into your hole, seeping out of the edges and pooling onto the sheets below.

The three of you tried to catch your breaths, not rushing to move as you each kissed random body parts lovingly, not quite having the energy to express how much you loved each other, but the touches conveyed the message thoroughly enough.

Steve was the first to move, kissing between your shoulder blades once before pulling out and then carefully beginning to help you ease out of Bucky, who gasped at the loss of the dildo. Next, Steve helped you stand on wobbly knees, only briefly so that he could clean between your legs with a warm washcloth and remove the harness from your body.

You then turned to Bucky and helped to clean all the cum and lube off of his body and then collapsed onto his chest, cuddling close as his arms wrapped around your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head. Steve did the same on Bucky’s other side, kissing your head and then Bucky wrapping his big arms around the man's abdomen and laying his hand over yours. No further words needed to be said; Steve finally found the calm that came from being with you and Bucky, the ideas and thoughts quietening in his mind as he found the peace he’d been craving all night.

[lara-cairncross]

masterpost weewoo ✨✨

general art tag general ask tag fanfic recommendations

🧚hidden hollow au / rottmnt fairy au stuff:

au tag fanart/fanwriting tag "ask mikey" tag

original designs (this is kinda outdated now lmao)

brief intro comic

april -> leo size comparison

mini lore comic 1

info about mikey's talent

general idea for wings + shell anatomy

mini lore comic 2

info about leo's talent

mini lore comic 2.5??? (not important just funny to me personally)

shelldon exists. kinda.

thingy about their fangs (good color ref)

TURTLE TOTS

usagi intro!

raph shell ref

mini lore comic 3

ref for donnie's markings (kinda)

big lore comic 1

ao3 fanfics (from most recently updated to oldest)

link to my Ao3 page

are you lonely yet?

-> 6/? chapters, 11k words, english, Donnie- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: uhhhhh mikey gets hurt in a very damaging way. donnie blames himself big-time. they both think the other is mad at them. emotional angst woo hoo, but also kinda fluffy i think? also pretty heavy on disaster twins stuff

now it's red, now it's dead, now it's--

-> 1/2 chapters, 5k words, english, Mikey-centric.

notes: set in the Bad Future timeline! follows mikey's slow ascent into becoming something Other. lots of angst-- depression, disassociation, suicidal ideation, major character death, etc etc. probably my favorite fic that i've written? idk I love writing OP mikey!

the sun is a dying star

-> 3/? chapters, 10k words, english, mikey-centric but bounces between POVs

notes: started off as a one-shot but i got too ambitious for my own good. mikey is not having a good time. blah blah blah turtle-gets-kidnapped-by-scientists-or-something, but i wanted to focus more on like, psychological damage than physical damage. not sure when/if this one will get an update.

pizza bagels, communication, and other life-changing novelties

-> 1/3 chapters, 3.4k words, english, Miles- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: SHELLSHOCKED FIC WOOHOO !! THE ONE AND ONLY TIME I WILL WILLINGLY WRITE ROMANCE! uhhhh two teenagers pining for each other and doing dumb shit together and angsting about being children with the weight of the world on their shoulders. IT'S FLUFFY AND CUTE I PROMISE

it's golden hour somewhere

-> 1/1 chapters (completed), 7.4k words, english, Mikey- and- Karai-centric.

notes: one-shot. Karai POV, but focuses on turtle tot Mikey. basically the Hamato Sacrifice isn't the only curse that plagues the clan, and Mikey is the most recent Hamato to come under fire. predetermined fate and all that shit. fluff and angst. this one's kinda weird ngl I remember nothing about writing it or getting inspiration for it lmao

the icarus complex

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), 10k words, english, Raph-centric (and also kinda Leo-centric in second chapter).

notes: deals with Raph's PTSD following the Kraang invasion, and one possible coping mechanism he could fall back on. spoiler alert it's NOT a healthy one lmao. definitely one of the more interesting fics I've written in my opinion; I did a lot of research for this one to make it as realistic and respectful as I could. another personal fav :)

equivalent exchange (and other things that give Leo a headache)

-> 1/? chapters, 2.5k words, english, Future!Leo- and- Mikey-centric.

notes: another Bad Future timeline fic, this time with Present Mikey accidentally ending up with Future Leo. follows the two of them trying to figure out how to get Mikey back to his timeline. I still love this concept, but idk when I'll get around to updating it tho lmao

that's where the blood's supposed to be!

-> 2/2 chapters (completed), english, Mikey-centric.

notes: Mikey gets hit hard during a fight but brushes it off, and it comes back to bite him later. takes place after the show, but before the movie-- right when the whole Leo vs Raph kerfuffle is at its peak. questionable medical information but I did my best lmao. this one's kinda old and cringey atp but whatever

other stuff

fanart for 3 months au tag

fanart for golden future au tag

glass turtle keychains example

College Fund (aka my Ko-fi page :>)

[sea-of-dust]

Alva,Frederick,Edgar,Demi x Rock Vo. GN! Reader

Compared to the way you dress they would have never guessed you knew your way around a ballroom

N: I'm gonna keep thinking of acheron and black swans dances final frame. Also Frederick's new skin, that thing has a grip on me,poppin party,Céline Dion,Mustard service references

Warnings: mentions of drinking, might be ooc

Ugh, you and luca being friends is one thing, him noticing the hunter and saying "ez sweep" is another. Luca would tell you what to do against him you'd do it, he'd get pissed you two would do it everytime you see em. Strangely enough is that you've never seen Alva before and when you asked who the fabled "tall coat guy" luca would answer "litterally a tall coat guy"

As soon as you did see him however you knew why luca didn't want you to ever meet him. His cold gaze, the scar near his eye, the elegance he radiates. "Are you single?" "Excuse me?" Luca would know instantly if you met him when you come back like a children's cartoon protagonist that's just been kissed by their crush. "Wow..." he was mortified.

Luca does get a bit werided out when he thinks too much about you crushing on his teacher, that dosent stop him from giving you heads up tho. "There's a public map" you stop tuning your neck nearly snapping to see him "where? Can I perform? Is the tall coat guy gonna be there?" "Dunno" "I'll take it" So the most delulu person on earth (you/j) decided to perform under the deck of the ship, not paying much mind as you played songs you thought he'd like, trying not to make direct eye contact with this seemingly uninterested man, too focused on his conversation with the clerk. You thought maybe he had tuned you out after the first few chords, until the next match with him where he hummed. A humming a little too similar to the lyrics you sang. While kiting him you could barely believe your ears, you had to have Demi fact check you.

A few more performances and a chair was all it took for him to begin to speak to you. "That voice of yours is wonderful" your eyes widen, looking up at him quickly, he smirks, reminiscing on the concert. "I'm normally not the type to like rock. I'm glad you're an acception" you froze, you could have sworn he could hear you internally scream or atleast see you blush as much as you did

He isn't very social but you've gotten the treat of seeing him smile, and not terror shock you as much. "You've gotten soft" "have I now?" In truth you went from being able to kite at least 3 ciphers to 2.5, he doesn't terror shock you but he makes up for it in actual shocks. Atleast he's friendly enough to show you where the dungeon is before poking you with the staff. There would also be the occasional soft look in his eyes eventually making a bit more physical contact with you. "You're so pretty" you re-wrap his bandages causally mummbling that out, he retracted his hand quickly. "Did I tie something too tight?" "No" you hold out your hand for his arm. "Do you really think im pretty" your eyes widen "I didn't think you heard me but yea, the way your eyes pierce into people is attractive" you blush embrassed you're rambling this much "atleast in my opinion" he looks away before placing his arm into your hand to continue wrapping, you continue on nervously wrapping them. He'd look at them later on in the match, thinking about what you said, it's too distracting for him to just not hear "you're pretty" over and over

He'd ask you out pretty awkwardly, because it would be straight to the point. "I love you, please consider me as a partner" "." He'd stand there like a brick and you would be to, out of pure shock your brain would have just exploded by then. "Sure-" brainfart of an answer, biggest regret of your life. Thank god he didn't seem to mind.

He likes comming out of his office just to see you out there practicing, you'd hear his foot steps and greet him with a smirk. "You've been in there for 15 hours I can't feel my hands" "I'm sure you're fine" "they feel like white noise" "so you feel them" "no" closing his eyes he'd listen to your careful fingers press on strings and strum, whenever he opened his eyes he always looked love struck so you try to block out his face from your mind, but the more you try to shut it out the more clear it gets. You had to stop looking at him when you practice

He'd notice if you've overused your voice during a match. Coughing, trying to relieve strain, pinching the front of your neck. He'd stop you mid kite and tell you about ways to relieve it. "Hopefully you like tea and honey." "?" "For your throat" "oh" he kisses your forehead. "I'll prepare some after this. Go decode for now" you'd have a higher chance of failing ciphers after that, Luca had to supervise. "He's so pretty..." "decode for him" easiest way to get you to lock in and to shut up about Alva

The only pet peeve he has with you is when you're both in a match and a survivor would say something along the lines of "I don't know how to get around this hunter" and you and luca would respond simultaneously "ez sweep" so he started finding loop holes, such as winking at you during kites, flirting with you if he found you first leaving the cipher bare, and just going after Luca first. He was no longer "ez sweep" to you two anymore, you had to tell a new survivor to "follow their gut!" For a while

He didn't care much for your rumors about being an aristocrat, if anything they're an afterthought, and an explanation on why you're able to causally name plants, and almost never use your hands when eating you'd eat fruits with a fork or a toothpick. This did come into play when you asked him to dance. Surely nothing it could be fine? He barely remembers how to do ballroom dance, so you went easy on him. It felt like a roller coaster. You could be able to tell he was embrassed everytime he almost stepped on your feet, the quick turns he wasn't ready for you'd catch his eyes widen. Somehow able to dip someone as tall as him you catch an exhausted smile on his face. "I should do this more often with you" he scoffs "maybe another time"

Ugh, as a musician he respects you knowing your talents after attending a show you did in the lobby, or just hearing it blast a few times but knowing your background you're gonna have to go the extra mile to even get him to associate with you. A person dressed like some local turning out to be an aristocrat, and their family respects that? Ridiculous you must be lying

He'd warm up to you slowly, he was annoyed he could hear you practice? Take these headphones. Then he couldn't hear the piano? Alright you'll change the time you do practice. He'd hate to admit it but when overwhelmed He'd purposely look for you while practicing, chaotic riffs like the ones you play would usually overwhelm him, but there's a difference when you practice, you're humming the lyrics softly while playing watered downed versions of certain bits, sometimes pleasing soft riffs. It's therapeutic, won't let you catch him listening though

That changes when you begin to date him. Now he's in the same room! "Im gonna pratice one i dont think youd like much" "I'm sure I can enjoy it regardless" you hum uncertainly hesitantly placing your fingers where they need to go, and begin to play, the melodies seeming uncertain of themselves as if shy. "With all the times I made mistakes infront of you I never expected you to be so considerate it hurts your performance" he sits closer to you "I'll be alright, play as you see fit regardless of me being in audience" "alright..." You play a bit hesitantly in the beginning, but pretty quickly you practice as usual, you sigh as you complete it. "That was too difficult" "do you want me to not be here when you practice?" You're not very sure how to answer that

He'd enter your room at night. "I know you're awake" "WOAH" you jolt back squinting your eyes to try and get a better look at him. "Why are you here at this hour?" "I got scared" "Sure bud" you embrace him, letting stiff arms return the favor. In truth he was kept awake by the thoughts of things couples usually do, sleeping in the same bed being one of them, imagining you there just wasn't going to cut it for him, to have you near him, to trust him enough to sleep in the same room as him let alone close to his chest, he felt at ease. You would wake up to his grip firmly around you or from him carassing your cheek or playing with your hair.

It feels werid when you two aren't in manor games together, you're like eatchothers lucky charms, he can't really handle if you're in too many games without him in a row. "I gotta get back soon Frederick might sleep on the piano again" Demi raises an eyebrow "he what?" "what if he stares so hard at my guitar it ends up full of sorrow" Demi's heard it all, she's heard of him evaporating, laying on couches, playing piano then sighing pausing and continuing to play a more loudly and harshly (according to Luca) "he thinks about alota things at once you know"

He does feel a bit strange when it comes to physical affection. Hugs and small kisses did feel a icky, when you do show him physical affection you'd try to keep it to a minimum accolading this, he judges you for that. Playing with his hair and stopping he looks up at you with narrowed eyes "what?" "Keep going" he grumbles. He'd start turning around to judge you if you dared to remove your hands from him. Sometimes even initiating, which would confuse and fluster the heck out of you. He does have his limits don't push them and he'll be fine.

He'd invite you to practice with him sometimes. It would always fluster the hell outta you but barely for him. "Are you sure?" You look around a bit frantically "I'm sure" "I'll get my gutair then" as soon as you sit down with him it usually goes with him beginning to play, you joining in after seeming to get the gist, you realize there was sheet music the entire time for you, say that you're "built diffrent" for just knowing what to play automatically "I'm just built like that" "Uh huh..." he disregards it, he knows you forget about the sheet music most of the time. Atleast he doesn't stay there for hours away from most people, that much anymore, now he spends atleast half of that practice session with you.

So to punish you for almost always never paying attention, he decided to make a song, no surprise he'd already think of making you a song, this was just an excuse for if you ever asked him why. "Do you mind if we practice again today" "you can't get enough of me can you" teasing him, you go with him hearing the unfamiliar song he began to play, you get behind him and begin to read the sheet music. "This one has alot of emotion to it" you continue to listen, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I think I got this" letting go of him, you play along with the emotional tone of the song. Test magically passed

You'd tease him with some song choices, letting him recognize the songs he wrote played on your gutair, or singing a lyric he just can't pass over for some reason "you haven't found everything you've been searching. Find it with me then we'll lose it and find it again" he blushes you could tell he was thinking too much on it. he turned away closing his eyes as you continued on singing, was your voice always this hypnotizing? Why are these chords so flustering now of all times? "Please stick to rock" "this is rock" "oh" you could barely hear that, getting closer to him you whisper in his ear "pleasantries-" "something I say to you, love" "so you know this" he tries to hide his flustered face. "The lyrics are pretty tame I'm surprised a song you've heard for a while now flustered you" you hug him kissing his cheek. You look foward to his reaction whenever you play songs like that near him, or just him paying too much attention to the lyrics and drifting into his imagination

Now imagine him finding out those you being an aristocrat rumors were real. You had him thinking you were normal until you ate a grape with a toothpick and knew how to tie his aggressively fancy bows. As soon as a partner dance came along you quite litterally swept him off his feet. A style of partner dance that was unique full of dramatic turns it almost felt like you were just dragging him along a bit, a weightless, graceful dance that would have been unexpected if you weren't accustomed to it. A dip is where you two make eye contact. "Did I tuker you out too much?" You smile uncertainly,him huffing to catch his breath, his mind racing with thoughts. "I'm fine" "would you like to do for another then?" "I'd rather not"

Ugh, pretty loud and he just hears the mumbles, he'll think it's incoherent metal, disrupts painting when you hear a sudden yell no matter how pretty it is

He dosent dislike you personally, after all you gave him your spare ear muffs when he brought this up to you. He becomes a good ally after that, you could go for a rescue and he'd be able to cover you. Those ear muffs come in handy, so handy that hunters try to take them. Unfortunately, you or him are always the first to yank them off or knock It out the hand of the hunter

He would slowly become apart of you Demi and Lucas crew. That one guy in a group that's never there but when he is it makes that day better, he's that guy. It gets so hype over there the hunter would turn their head wondering about the noise. "we got it guys!!" "YEA" "were getting a 4 escape!!" The hunters oprea singer

He'd grow super attached to you after you say something positive about his art. "Youve made this in a day?" "Yea?" "I find that hard to believe, the layering in this, the way they don't just lay ontop of eatchother but blend, not to mention accurate shadows" you take a pause dazed at the fine work. "It's beautiful" he doesn't speak, shocked that you knew the beauty and worth of his art something that most he met didn't understand, he fell for you hard over those comments, exactly why he shows you his pieces more often

You two would start dating rather quickly, you dropping signs the most aggressive way possible, causally holding hands when alone, sharing a cipher and really bad ideas "we should rescue luca" "no" "?" "He told me I should cut my canvas in half so I had four drawings instead of two" "...I mean in concept it's good but it might set ya off" "it already did" "after half then?" "Yea" thankfully Demi swooped in

You do try to sit down and paint with him. It was like a toddler following along a Bob Ross tutorial, but atleast Bob didn't stare at your painting for long periods of time. "Are you familiar with aristocrats?" "Yea?" He narrows his eyes "are you one?" "Are my drawings that bad?" "No these strokes are just ones nobility usually do" "crazy" he knew you were an aristocrat, and one that appreciated his art is even better. "Consider me your biggest fan in the art world" he giggles going back to his piece

He's run out of paintings during a match? Suddenly this isn't a match it's a rock show. "Find something in the item boxes nearby I'll distract them for you" distract them the loudest way possible how did you even bring an amp to a match?! "Why do you keep playing poppin party songs" "1) they're loud enough to cover the sound of us moving 2) they're more focused on me, the source of the music and 3) if you actually noticed" you point at Joseph "I found out he in particular has a real liking for Arisa he's not just gonna ignore her out of all people" Sure enough a familiar photographer appeared in the distance. "You mind opening the exit gate"

Despite him being sarcastic as hell he tries to sing along when you practice or perform. "You look like someone just sucked the life outta you" "how do you do this on the regular?" "Vocal practice wait till you have to scream in matches to save people" "." This stuff isn't for him but listening to you do it sounds alot better, and its nice to hum. You've caught him humming more times than you can count, and whenever you tell him he gets embrassed. "It's cute tho" "I'm sure the hunter could catch us if I continued" "They're across the map"

He hates the way you kiss whenever you're rushing somewhere. You do this thing he calls the entertainer's peck. Where you'd wave or acknowledge him, kiss his cheek and continue walking. He hates it because of how it lingers, you can't just take his hand to turn him toward you only to kiss him on the cheek and leave to a concert area or to decode. You're making him lose focus, one of those kisses that make you want another. You'd have him mummbling like a fool, espically if he could chase after you he'd give you his own peck, which led to the part he hated the most, the soft "I'll cherish this" expression on your face when you look back at him. He's giving you another until you stop looking at him like that!

He knew you were an aristocrat and he was thankful for it there was a higher chance you realized his talents. Hed ask you to dance first. "Shall we dance?" "Sure" informal way of accepting but formal style of dance. The way you both were able to be in sync no matter what move you threw at him, it turned out to be more of a test of skill than a friendly dance, as soon as you dipped him you could see all of the energy he lost hit him at once as he could barely keep himself up, you giggled at his predicament. "We should do this more often, you're alot more used to this than I thought" "we should, maybe I could try tossing you" his face straightens "nevermind"

Party! She's litterally with you all the time, with Luca as a carry on. You three would basically host rock concerts in the manor. You'd sing about freedom and living on, who cares for the noise complaint invest in ear plugs!!

You'd always be with her or luca during the games, though you do prefer Demi a bit more, she dosent laugh so hard it alerts the hunter. She's also more aware than Luca making running away alot easier. Though after games you prefer Luca, Luca doesn't cling to you so much you have to sleep in the same bed as him to make him feel better, he just calls you his hero

Does help when you're rescuing her, Naiad could be dashing toward you yet all be stopped by a simple ear spliting shreak from you, you had her seeing double. "I didn't know you could also do metal" "it's useful with the amount of commissions I get"

She'd randomly get an idea to try and wing along while you play. "I got it I got it" reasuring herself you begin to play familiar chords as she opens her mouth you change them to diffrent ones "I DONT KNOW THE LYRICS TO TEAR DROPS" "you got it!" She indeed barely had it, barely able to say of the lyrics correctly. Her revenge? "You mind playing this" she shows you probably the most confusing sheet music you've seen in your career a Frederick special if you will. "Alright-" and so the manor wondered what happened to the music they randomly heard when passing your room for the next 2 days

She'd fall asleep If you two weren't summoned for a round that day leaving you and her alone to explore the manor or practice guitar. People would come and go to you twos makeshift karoke. Espically Norton apparently. "IT WAS LOST LONG AGO BUT ITS ALL COMMING BACK TO ME" those two would sing with their hearts out the whole manor could tell you the lyrics by heart. You could play a cord to a song she'd accidently "ITS ALL COMMING BACK TO ME" "." "That wasn't the right song?" "No"

Almost scream royality. Random bug? "AHHHHHH" small spoke? "AUHHHHHHH" you and luca pretending to be possessing eatchothers bodies "NOOOOOO" surprisingly she doesn't scream like this when a giant nun lady jumps at her, except when she did and found out why you're scream royality. "So how'd ya get chaired?" "Rescue me first" "you're way too far from half" she pouts "so I tried screaming to burst her ear drums like you do..." "and?" "And she looked me straight in the eyes, then the cat screamed louder I swear it was like one of yours and then I was here" ".pft" "not cool!"

She gets tipsy during rounds, leading to some fun confessions of love. "Y/n...I love youu" she leans onto you, puckered lips to an exaggerated degree. "I gotta decode Demi" sighing you let her cling onto you tighter "did any person tell you how cute you are? Am I the first?" "You aren't" she gasps dramatically "reallllyyyy?" "Yea, a barmaid got to me before you" she blows a raspberry

She leads you away for rounds, asking for help setting up a kiting area. "Thanks for the help" she lands a kiss on your cheek. "Demi" "what?" "I appreciate it but Luca might vomit over this again" "he forced himself to" she wraps her arms around your waist, leaning in to be closer to you "he'll be fine" he wasn't fine. "You two really gotta get a room" "wadya mean?" "You keep looking with these lovey dovey eyes, were all on the same cipher and that poor guys probably single handedly evading that rock guy. "Arent they the same person" "yea they both got that same scar" "now you're tag teaming me?" "Yea" you both make the same look.

If she were ever to escape the hunter injured she'll run to you near instantly. "I think you should kiss me and all my injuries will heal" "that's not how it works Demi" you continue your healing "you're so warm..." "I know" "hehe" you kiss her forehead, finishing up. "I'm still injured" she dramatically places her hand on her forehead, both of you hearing a cipher being popped. "Oh look you're at full health" she sighs "worth a shot"

You being an aristocrat? She didn't care much but it did affect how you did certain things, and explained why you knew how to take care of plants,paint, and piano...barely the gutairs more fitting. When you asked her to dance, she got flustered, such a formal request, but comming from you it should have been a bit obvious it was comming. She didn't expect how graceful you were, it felt like an instructor dancing with their student for a test, the turns focused eyes turning to soft looks whenever you made eye contact with her. It was a flustering the hell outta of her she couldn't think for more than two secounds with you suddenly invading her thoughts with the shift in demeanor. When she took the lead by the end and dipped you, you seemed to snap out of it. "You're really good at improv" "how sweet of you" she huffs bringing you up to stand. "Would you like to dance again later?" "You sound like an old noble"

[whumpfish]

Reference: Psychogenic Fever

You've seen it in anime loads of times: the protagonist overexerts themselves or experiences a highly stressful event, and they dramatically collapse. The next thing you know, they're in bed with a cloth over their forehead and an ally informs the rest of us that they have a fever.

Well, it turns out that can actually happen.

If your immune system is already shot, and you experience acute levels of stress, your body will respond to those stress hormones the way it would normally respond to a virus. Your core heats up, and you develop a full-blown fever.

According to what information I was able to dig up, some patients can develop core temperatures of 41°C/105°F. I didn't apparently record mine when this was going on, but given the temperature dysregulation caused by the seroquel I take that prevents me from cooling off if I get hot and the reverse, and how hot literally anything I touched got, I was probably in that higher range.

The Progression:

I went to bed at around 1:45 a.m. I'd already been through so much stress with my grandfather's funeral, how my dad elected to process grief, and scrambling to get the SSI-D function report that had arrived in our mailbox when I was out of town returned on time, I had already crashed out earlier that day from the energy expenditure. Now, I have ME/CFS, and crashing out after exertion/stress is normal, so nothing stood out as a warning sign. If there was one, I dismissed it as my usual fatigue. I went to sleep.

I woke up about 2.5 hours later, experiencing sleep paralysis--presumably in lieu of a fever dream. When I woke up the rest of the way, I was sweating profusely and feeling about like I'd been mowing the lawn in 105° heat. I've done that, and collapsed from heat exhaustion from it, before. I was hotter at that moment than I had been back then.

I put a wrist to my forehead, and the sensation was like holding a hairdryer on high to my forehead at point-blank range. My pillow was just as hot, and no amount of flipping fixed that. (I should point out here that I normally run cold--ridiculously cold, sleep with the quilt up in the middle of a Texas summer cold--and this never happens unless I am very sick.)

I smelled like fever. Some people don't think you can smell fevers, but I was a sickly child and spent so much of my life in pediatricians' waiting rooms full of feverish children that after a while I noticed a particular smell unique to those environments. Since then, I've been able to accurately identify it elsewhere by that smell.

I was completely confused. I'd had to go into the grocery store without a mask earlier that day because I ran out, but even I don't present that quickly. It couldn't be from that. Some old geek part of me remembered Anime Fever, and on a hunch, I googled "can you give yourself a fever from stress?" And yes. Yes, you can.

I sat up, and when I touched the mattress where I had been sleeping with one hand, it felt like trying to pick a dish up out of the dishwasher immediately after it's through running. It was that hot.

The recommended treatment was anti-inflammatories and any relevant psych meds that can reduce anxiety, so I took 800mg of ibuprofen and an extra, small dose of seroquel. Then I took my clothes off and downed a few bottles of water, my usual trick for cooling down once I've gotten too hot, and sat on the foot of my bed to give my mattress time to cool down before getting back in bed to try to sleep.

The fever broke at around 6:15 a.m., and I was finally able to rotate back to the other side of my mattress and pillow, and go back to sleep. I slept until 1:20 p.m.

The Takeaway: This is a real phenomenon! Use it on your whumpees with poor immune systems, either naturally or broken down from their ordeal. It's no longer just an anime trope.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (2.5)

(2)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: small blurb, mostly about your suffering in the morning. Also, I strongly believe Abby smells like Dirty from Lush either because she uses it herself or it's just how it is, but yeah. Spearmint and sandalwood and lavender. There, I said it.

tags: @abbyily

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

You woke up thirsty and disoriented, but the warm hands around you quickly brought you up to speed. You came to Abby last night and asked for cuddles, right. Fuck, you felt so lonely in your cold bed yesterday it made you too emotional, and you decided it would be an excellent idea to go and cuddle the girl you had no chance with. God you hoped you didn't make Abby uncomfortable.

You were lying on your sides, facing each other, and Abby's hand was probably cramping now,but she didn't seem to mind. You sighed quietly and looked up to Abby, who was still sleeping peacefully. She was so fucking pretty you wanted to bash your head on the wall from what her adorable freckles and long lashes did to you. Her hair was a little out of place, and she looked so innocent, like a child. You wanted to smother her with silly little kisses you saved for kids when you could make extra money babysitting. 

You looked down at Abby's collar and froze, confused. She was wearing your t-shirt. It made you feel hot all over, and you remembered you had her t-shirt on because you were stupid yesterday and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Abby liked men, and you weren't one, and you should have worked harder on getting over her because this was getting ridiculous. You both just mixed your t-shirts, no big deal and no, heart, we were not making a big deal out of it. 

You inhaled Abby's scent, feeling like a thief - this spearmint and sandalwood wasn't for you, but Abby smelled so good you couldn't resist and smell more. You buried your nose back in her neck and relaxed, slowly falling asleep again. 

Next time you woke up three hours later, but this time you were hugging Abby from behind, your nose deep in her hair. Yeah, something was definitely wrong with you, wasn't it? You carefully moved away, scared of waking Abby up and facing whatever the fuck this situation was, but she didn't notice and you escaped her bedroom as quietly as possible, closing the door behind you. 

You let out a relieved sigh and walked to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face which was a little bit puffy from hangover and oversleeping. It was currently almost 2 pm, meaning you already lost the whole day, because even if you didn't feel physically bad, you just wanted to lie in your bed and do nothing.

Maybe eat some junk food, actually. That would be the best. 

You knew you should've changed and not continue wearing Abby's t-shirt that smelled like her, but you were weak, so you left it on. You'd put it in the laundry bin in the evening. 

You were staring mindlessly into your cup when Abby shuffled to the kitchen, her hair a mess, her forearms making you weak in your knees. Damn good forearms. 

"Morning." Abby yawned. "How are you feeling?"

"It's 2 pm." You laughed. "I'm as good as one can be on a hangover. You?"

"Don't want to do anything."

"Then don't. You want tea?"

"Can you make coffee?"

"Yeah."

Abby went to the bathroom and you started brewing coffee for her - she was a huge coffee drinker, but when you asked if she wanted to drink tea with you, she always said yes. Abby was sweet like that. 

You smiled to yourself and poured the coffee into her cup, adding three spoons of sugar and milk to it. The sweet tooth this girl had made your teeth ache from a possible cavity. 

Abby came back, still in your t-shirt, and sat on the chair, hugging her cup like it was a life-saver. She looked just as sleepy as you felt.

"Why did Cait text me that she is home?" You asked, puzzled. Notification was from 7 am. 

"I told them to text us when they get home." Abby murmured in her coffee. "You don't do that?"

"I do, Cait just doesn't listen. She has this "if something happens to me you'll find out from the news" attitude." You sighed and leaned back on your chair. "I guess she wanted to be polite this time."

"Caitlyn is very cool." Abby said carefully as if she could say the wrong thing about your best friend. 

"She is." You smiled. "Ellie is very different from when I met her, though." 

Oh shit. 

Abby looked up and you couldn't help but feel caught, as if you just accidentally admitted you cheated on Abby. 

"Wait a second." Abby grinned like she knew where this was going. "You hooked up, didn't you?"

"That's a bold assumption, but yes." You grinned in return. "It was a long time ago. I didn't think that your Ellie was my Ellie."

"'My Ellie'?" Abby teased and you felt your face heat up from embarrassment. "Do you have a crush on her?"

"Oh, I've been harbouring feelings for her for half a year." You said dramatically. "Stalking her schedule, screenshotting her Instagram, moving in with her best friend…" 

Abby laughed and you laughed too. 

"It sounded so fucking creepy." 

You nodded and finished your tea. 

"I want to order some food and watch a tv-show. What do you think?" 

"If I liked girls I would've definitely married you right now." Oh god not this kind of straight shit, no. Nononono. Did the universe hate you? "Really, if you dare to ditch me for your sweetheart I'll cause a scene."

"I'd make a perfect housewife." You smirked. “You can marry me just for that.”

"I always wanted a spring wedding." Abby sighed dreamingly and you laughed. 

"Just say the word, babygirl." You winked and Abby laughed, but she got shy from your words and there was pink blush on her cheekbones. Shit she was cute. Not even her "5.11 built like a tank MMA fighter" appearance could hide her soft side and you just lived for it. 

You enjoyed when she got all commanding and confident and even scary, because she was so fucking hot in these moments, but when she got soft and shy ohh. It was making you insane.

You both spent 10 minutes deciding what you wanted to order, and after you finally placed the order, you moved to the living room. Abby opened her arms for you, silently inviting you to cuddle, and you couldn't resist, so you lay down on her shoulder while her strong arm went around your waist, keeping you close. 

"You're breaking my little gay heart." You complained, and Abby laughed.

"I'm very sorry." She said dramatically, and her warm hand was going up and down on your arm, comforting you. "My sincere apologies to the lesbian community for being straight."

You poked her in the side and she laughed again. 

Abby looked at the crown of your head and she suddenly got the overwhelming desire to place a kiss there, but she stopped herself. She felt like she was toeing a line she didn't want to cross - she didn't want to be weird.  She didn't want to make you feel awkward and not cuddle with her after. 

You were still in her t-shirt and Abby had The Feeling again, and she tried to give it a name, but she couldn't remember when she ever felt like that - even when Ellie wore her clothes she didn't get that feeling, but it was quite.. familiar. When Ellie wore her clothes she liked knowing that yes, Ellie was her friend, she had this privilege to be friends with her. So it was probably the same with you. Maybe it was stronger because you were not a gremlin like Ellie and actually a nice person. 

Abby felt all warm and fuzzy when you laughed, vibrations going through her chest. It was a nice quiet sound and your breath was getting a little deeper and heavier.

"Falling asleep?" Abby murmured, suddenly filled with affection. 

"A little."

"I can wake you up when food comes."

"Nah. We will eat and then I'll nap."

Abby chuckled, not really believing you'd last long enough, and she was right: you fell asleep anyway. But she fell asleep as well, holding you close even unconscious, maybe even closer as her mind loosened the leash on her constant questioning if it was okay for friends to feel like this.

[vnards]

The team accidently ate pot brownies...

There’s a knock on Price's door. He sits up, readjusting his posture and stretching for a moment before he calls them into his office.

“Come in.”

“Captain Price,” A civilian secretatry working on base stuck her head in, an edge of nervousness to her voice, “Mr. Riley has been standing in the mess hall all day just…staring and-and we we're hoping you’d be able to help.”

Simon.

Price gets up from his desk, but he notices he feels floaty and light, the sensation makes him giggle.

John stopped. Giggling?

Something’s wrong.

The captain turns to the lady, his smile more kind and soft than usual, “Could you be a doll and page Seargents Garrick and Mactavish?” She agrees and smiles politely even as she watches him stumble before catching his balance.

He makes his way down the hall, trying to find the anger to be mad at being accidently drugged by pot brownies. He knows he should be furious, but he hasn't felt this relaxed in years.

He focuses on his mission: getting his team together to ride this one out.

Lieutenant Ghost stood in the corner of the mess hall. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since he’d been there. Just standing. Watching. It took the staff 2.5 hours of him standing before they sought Price for help.

Price walked towards the man, Ghost was still motionless. The captain clears his throat and speaks, “Is everything alright, Lieutenant?”

John is able to look at Ghost's eyes. They're blank, seeing nothing beyond him. As if he was lost. John tried again, “Simon?”

He comes to, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Price?” His eyes are watery. An alarmed panic sat behind his gaze as he reached for John, his hands shaking.

He grabbed him into a hug, “It's alright. You're okay.” Price mutters to him assurances he hasn't needed in a while. But it does it's job and his shaking calms a bit. John pulls back from Simon and rubs at his shoulder, “You're safe. But we have to get back to the barracks, son. You understand?” Simon nods, able to focus on a mission like a good soldier does. “Good boy,” Price turns, ready to leave, “In step.”

Simon follows quietly, his head slightly down as the growing crowd became curious of the boogeyman. The captain leads them back towards his office where the two younger sergeants bound towards the pair.

“Captain!” The boys playfully grapple with each other as they move closer to their commanding officers.

Price conducts for them to calm as they come closer and they obey, “We need to head back to the barracks and ride this out.”

“Aye don't think he meant it, sir.” Soap tries to vouch for the private that made them brownies for Friday morning.

“We'll deal with that later.” John grumbles. “Johnny, Simon duty.” Soap jumps to action, leaning his shoulder onto the mopey Lieutenant. He begins to yammer away about his day, trying his best to not knock into the Ghost as much as he could. Simon allowed it today.

Kyle walks forward, following behind Price as he led the way, “So, what's the plan, Cap’n?”

masterlist

[kmp78]

And in today's episode of me versus the universe... 😂

So I was across the border in Lithuania for the day, visiting Hill of the Crosses (quite impressive, I can recommend) and when I come back and exit the minivan I start walking towards my hotel across the Old Town, when...

...who do I spot in front of McD. 😂🧐

On her phone as usual, communicating with someone.

Well, my antennas of course went up immediately, and as she turned around the corner I obvs followed, and who do I see coming from the other direction?

2.0. 😂

He was without a jacket (🥶) and coming from the opposite direction to where the Radisson is, so I was like...??? 🤔

Why's this dude running around so far from the hotel without a jacket?

But then I thought maybe he came by car so makes sense. 🤷🏼‍♀️

They popped into a clothing store and as I walked past the window I saw him trying on jackets and her standing next to him. 🧥

Very coupleyyyyyyy... 😉

Anyway, THIS is where I will admit things got stalkey for sure. 😂🫣🕵🏼‍♀️

I lurked outside the store cos I had nothing better to do anyway (and pondered to myself who the fuck was babysitting when both his minders were out galavanting?!), and finally they came out and 2.0 got himself a snazzy new blue jacket. 😎

They walked back towards the McD and much to my horror...

THEY SEPARATED. 😬🚶🏻‍♀️👋🚶‍♂️‍➡️

I was like... shit! 😫

Which one do I follow?! 😵‍💫

Well, I had to make a quick call and I chose 2.0 cos let's face it: Nana could be going ANYWHERE. 🤷🏼‍♀️

She could just be going to buy La Principessa some tampons so that's fucking useless to me. 🤷🏼‍♀️

So yes, I picked 2.0 and walked after him towards the park which was quite handy cos that's where my hotel is too. 👍

When he gets to the park he stops by a street musician playing a synth, and stands there listening for a good while. 🎹

The musician was VERY good. 👍

I stand further back and out of sight, and as the guy stops playing 2.0 approaches him and they chat for a bit, and then 2.0 shows him his phone and asks...

"You know him?"

I legit had to use all my willpower to not snort SO LOUD. 😂🙄

Just... pleeeeeeease. 😭

Then 2.0 goes: " I might come back with him in 30 mins." and leaves.

I'm like AAAAALRIGHTY THEN 🙃 and also start walking after 2.0 cos again, that's where my hotel is too and I assume he's going to go get the weasel.

But then... something weird happens. 🤔

The Radisson where we know everyone else is staying is straight ahead but suddenly 2.0 turns left. 🤔

I'm like...??? Where you going, man?! 🤔

And then...

...he pops into the hotel that's right outside the park. 😳

And THAT's when it clicks in my brain.

That's why he was coming from a different direction than the Radisson without a jacket.

He didn't have to walk any further than across the park because LORD LETO IS NOT STAYING IN THE SAME DINGY RADISSON AS EVERYONE ELSE. ⚠️

So not only are we not travelling together, we also don't wanna see each other's faces in the hotel elevator. 💀

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKING HELL IS THIS BAND ANYMORE. 🤦🏼‍♀️

Anyway, maybe like 10 seconds later and before I even had time to move, 2.0 comes back out with luggage and hops into the car waiting outside.

Lord Leto obvs had to already be inside cos the car left immediately to who knows where. 🤷🏼‍♀️

So then I had another choice to make: do I go to my hotel or do I wait for the ~30 mins that 2.0 said it might take for them to come back to the musician... 🤔

Again, since I had no other plans anyway I decided that fuck it, imma wait! Even tho 30 mins in Letoland is usually more like 2.5 hours. 🙄😴

So I stroll back into the park and to the dude playing his synth, and MUCH TO MY SURPRISE almost on time... 🙃

I swear to god if I end up in the background of that Tiktok... 😭🙅🏼‍♀️

Anyway, he listened to the musician guy for like a minute...

...and then took some selfies with him...

...and chatted to that other random dude who for some reason had on weird makeup so JL said looks like he's coming from a cabaret and the guy said he could play The Joker to which JL said he totally could. 😂🤡

Then he spotted ME and waved and said "HI!" and I was like "uh... hello..." 😂🫣

And someone here said I should ask for a selfie so HERE HAVE IT. 😂😂😂✌️

Still counts. 🤷🏼‍♀️💯

Then the trio left (I don't think the synth guy got tonight's The Kill gig btw 🤷🏼‍♀️) and I could FINALLY actually go back to my damn hotel. 😂

THE END. 🙃

Or is it?! 🤷🏼‍♀️

Probably not if the universe keeps this shit up. 🤪

[creations-by-chaosfay]

Fun fact a doctor shared with me when they learned I'm a quilter: it's a very healthy hobby.

Most of my time is spent standing because I have to press seams. With foundation paper piecing, I use a hand presser (looks like a rolling pin on a stick) because the paper curls and warps under heat. Machine sewing involves a lot of shoulder and arm usage. Cutting fabric uses even more, and I cut a lot more when I use foundation paper piecing. I use a wall in my bedroom as a design wall, and it results in stretching and reaching. Getting up and down from my chair, plus all the standing when pressing and cutting fabric, works out my legs.

When the doctor asked about how my body feels when I'm working on quilts, she also asked if my heart races. It does! I get very excited when working on a quilt, and occasionally frustrated, but my heart is hardly at rest. Just thinking about working on quilts gets it going. They told me it's something they would call light cardio, especially for someone like me. I have moderate to severe asthma, and doing more than light cardio (speed walking for example) results in my asthma acting up. So this? It gives my heart a good workout.

I also exercise my brain, especially with the planning and focus. They mentioned quilting, and the arts in general, have been proven to help delay and even prevent dementia.

Making quilts also helps treat anxiety. Does making something big cause you anxiety? Then go small. Before I started using medication to treat my ADHD, I made a lot of smaller things because Instant Gratification is very nice. Now that I'm on medication, big things are significantly easier to work on because I don't feel the mental itch for NOW NOW NOW.

I also apply everything I learned as a macrame artist, painter, and poet, when I make my quilts. My family can see the influence in the work, especially the other quilters. The doctor explained this helps me retain my memories, and again exercises my brain.

Next time someone has the audacity to tell you making quilts is a lazy hobby, invite them to join you. Have them do as you do. My husband has never once called it lazy because he knows it's not, but someone else did. So I told them to join me for the work. They left with very sore shoulders and feet, and apologized later with a gift of a mini jelly roll (for the uninitiated: it's a precut bundle of fabric that's 2.5 x 42 inches, and a full roll is 40 strips).

I highly recommend getting a couple relief mats if standing for long periods of times causes you pain. I have one because of pain. My feet are so highly arched only about 20% of each foot is on the ground when I'm standing, my lower back has a permanent arch that prevents me from ever touching my toes (I haven't been able to touch my toes since I was about three years old; my dr suspects some of my lower vertebrae are fused, but we need x-rays to verify), and my knees have always been brats. My sewing days are only about 3-5 hours because all the standing has my back screaming at me. Before my relief mat, it was a max of three hours.

Making quilts is hard work, both mentally and physically. It's 100% worth it though!