#i have spent the last few years with them and others. so it makes sense im not used to it. and that its also uncomfortable

[norrisleclercf1]

Day 23 of 25 Days of Christmas: Christmas Party

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Rating: PG

Words: 831

As you and Lewis prepare for the Christmas dinner party, there's a palpable excitement in the air. The kitchen is filled with the fragrant aroma of spices and the rich scent of roasting meats. At the same time, soft holiday music plays in the background, setting a cheerful tone for the evening. You take a moment to step back and admire the efforts that have gone into creating a warm, inviting atmosphere. The table was dressed in elegant linens, with glimmers of shining silverware and crystal glassware, and each piece was meticulously placed.

You glance at Lewis, who is bustling about, adjusting the napkins and ensuring the perfect floral centerpiece. His enthusiasm is contagious, and you can’t help but smile as he lovingly arranges the table settings. With the gentle flicker of candlelight dancing around the room, it feels like you’ve created a little haven away from the winter chill outside.

As guests begin to trickle in, you warmly greet each one, wrapping them in hugs or a friendly handshake. They admire the decorations—a blend of classic and modern elements that reflect your shared taste. The twinkling lights and tasteful ornaments hanging from the tree add a magical touch, and you can’t help but feel proud of the effort that’s gone into crafting this warm and inviting holiday experience.

The house is alive with conversation and laughter as friends and family gather. You find yourself moving from group to group, engaging in lighthearted banter, sharing stories, and catching up on life as you serve drinks—a delightful mulled wine that Lewis spent hours perfecting. Its rich flavors warm the body and spirit, lifting everyone’s mood.

In the kitchen, the final touches on the meal are coming together beautifully. You can hear the bubbling of the cranberry sauce and the sound of Lewis carving the perfectly roasted turkey. He calls you, “Hey, can you fetch the thyme from the pantry? I think it could use a little extra!” You shouldn’t have to ask twice; you're eager to assist, reveling in the teamwork that defines this special evening.

Once everyone is seated, you take a moment to admire the scene before you. The table is filled with various dishes—golden roasted vegetables, creamy potatoes, and a vibrant salad that adds a pop of color. You raise your glass, and as everyone quiets down, you offer a heartfelt toast. “To family and friends, the memories we make, and the love we share.” Cheers resonate, and the clinking of glasses fills the room.

As the meal progresses, stories are shared over plates piled high with food. Each laugh and smile deepens the sense of connection. You notice a soft glow on Lewis’s face, mirroring your delight. You have created more than just a dinner; you've crafted an experience that brings everyone together, sharing in the joy of these moments.

After the last bites of dessert are consumed—a rich chocolate yule log—you and Lewis clear the table. The kitchen buzzes with the sounds of clattering dishes and playful banter. It’s a joyous chaos, and you both thrive in it. You wash dishes while Lewis dries, swapping tales from the past year and recalling fond memories.

As the evening winds down, guests are reluctant to leave, lingering for a little longer. You offer them coffee and homemade peppermint bark, and soon, the room fills with the scent of brewing coffee mingled with sweet chocolate. Conversations pick up again, and the warmth of friendship envelops you like a cozy blanket.

Lewis grabs his guitar, a tradition you both cherish after a festive meal. As he strums a few chords, others chime in with familiar holiday tunes. You close your eyes for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere of music, laughter, and the comforting scent of pine from the tree, appreciating the love and tradition that make these moments so special.

Finally, you realize how lucky you are—to share these moments, to have friends and family around you, and to have teamed up with Lewis, who, through every detail of the evening, showcased your shared love for bringing joy into the lives of those you hold dear.

As the last guests bid farewells, you and Lewis share a satisfied glance. It wasn’t just the food or the decorations; it was the love and effort you both poured into making this night special for the people who matter most. "Next year," you say with a wink, "we really outdid ourselves!"

He laughs, echoing your sentiment. “Let’s make this a tradition—growing better every year.” With a content heart, you begin to tidy up, knowing that the evening will be remembered long after the last plate has been washed.

As the last flicker of candlelight fades, you reflect on the beautiful gathering you crafted—a holiday celebration filled with warmth, love, and laughter. You realize that amidst the elegance and effort, the bonds formed and memories made truly shine. With happy hearts, you both retire for the night, feeling grateful for the love surrounding you.

[verdemoth]

ok anyway. Spanner time!!! funny lil mirror-dreamworld false-sun snake autism changeling. Of all my flondon/sskies characters I think they're definitely having the most fun, they are just thriving and vibing forever. The High Wilderness is a playground full of such interesting flora with a lot of fascinating stories to tell!

After aging out of the Regiment gang, Spanner and Kerry spent some time on zailing crews. In the High Wilderness conflicts they pretty quickly sided with the Tacketies. Adaptable and surprisingly effective, they proved themselves very useful to the cause, albeit quite eccentric. The duo earned their shared position, after a few attempts to utilize their skillsets on separate crews proved that - as much as they tend to egg each other on in making impulsive reckless decisions - not having the other to balance them out creates disasters much worse for everyone involved!

Text Transcripts:

In the top left are some quick details. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Spanner's epithet is 'the Incandescent Mirror'. Spanner uses they/them mostly but also any other pronouns, they're around 20 years old and around 5 feet 6 inches tall. They're not human, but a mysterious one-of-a-kind Parabola hybrid. Their role is as co-captain of a Tackety locomotive.

Near the main illustration are these notes: "Spanner's penchant for wearing blue is a holdover from the uniforms of the Regiment, the urchin gang in which they grew up alongside their adoptive brother Kerry. Kerry is the other captain of their shared train, Spanner's best friend, and the basis for their human appearance."

Above the two panels of Spanner hissing with a cat is this note: "Cats and Spanner don't tend to get along... Felines always seem to recognize the 'Parabolan serpent' in them, and no amount of negotiation has ever convinced a cat that Spanner has absolutely no allegiance to any fingerkings. And no connection at all, probably."

The last notes are next to the illustrations of Spanner with their inner metalwork and sunshine showing + Spanner chatting with plants: "Beneath the human veneer is a skeleton of metal, glass, and cosmogone. Their body is malleable and fluid, able to take on new forms at will. Spanner's been 'human' for most of their life, so they're very used to and comfortable with this shape. Their first and other default resembles some sort of constricting snake. Anything radically different than these requires a lot of study and practice to convincingly mimic. They don't inherently know where the joints should be."

"Even when not visible, Spanner is constantly exuding cosmogone radiation. To humans, it's a little chillier than true sunlight. To plants, it's about as good as or better than the real deal, and fungi benefit too. It vastly enhances their growth, and they draw closer to hungrily feast on the raw energy. Spanner is content with this, given their fascination with all flora & funga."

"Through an innate, automatic ability to Absorb Ambient Vibes (taking in residual, surface level feelings/emotions/senses around them), Spanner is uniquely able to communicate with plantlife. They are VERY excited to be in the Reach, where growing things are so abundant, although... Reach flora tend to be quite intense and volatile, flourishing aggressively and clamouring for the slightest hint og sunlight. In Spanner's hands, a verdant seed becomes a bomb. Not that this will stop them from greeting the local greenery =)"

End of text transcripts.

[squirmydonnie]

I feel like I tend to have pretty bad ideas

CW: unreality in tags

I don't know that I'm venting. But it's hard for it to not sound that way.

But I'll put warnings because I don't see how else I'd feel okay without putting them there.

It's just more fair that way

[starkwlkr]

she’s always a woman | max verstappen

an: this fic is a special birthday fic for my lovely friend anto!! happy birthday love!! hope you enjoy your special day <3 also let’s just pretend that lewis wasn’t battling max for the championship in 2021 instead it’s max and the reader

tw: jos mention and narcissistic mother

Max couldn’t really remember why your friendship ended. He was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you had a bad race and needed some support, etc. He was always there so when you stopped talking to him, he was confused and hurt.

KARTING DAYS

At the time, the boys you raced against hated being beat by a girl. It was humiliating! A girl was faster than them? No way! But when Max Verstappen saw how fast you were, he was amazed. You made it look so easy.

“How many trophies do you have now?” Seven year old Max asked you as you two shared a bag of gummy bears, your favorite snack.

“I haven’t counted. What about you?” You questioned.

“I haven’t counted either.” He replied.

It was a long day of practice and all Max wanted to do was spend time with you and eat gummy bears. He noticed how you only ate certain colors like red, blue, orange and yellow. He asked why only those colors and your response was that those colors were your favorites, all the other colors looked unappetizing.

Spending time with you was something Max loved about karting. Most of the boys you competed with would rather lose than hang out with a girl, but not Max. He liked being around you. And it seemed like you liked having Max around too so it made no sense to Max why you stopped talking to him.

As time went on, Jos Verstappen kept a close eye on you. He certainly didn’t want some girl distracting his son. He kept telling Max how much of a bad influence you were, but of course Max didn’t listen. Why would he? He liked you and you liked him.

Unlike Max, your mother’s words went to your head.

“He’s just like the other boys, sweetheart. When you least expect it, he’s going to leave you heartbroken.” Your mother told you one day after another successful win. She watched the way Max stood next to you on the podium and clapped for you.

“But he’s my friend.” You said lowly.

“What did I say about this sport? You are not here to make friends, they are not your friends and neither is he. He’s competition and if you want to keep winning then you need to keep away from that boy!”

The next time Max saw you, he was the heartbroken one. Every time he kept trying to get your attention, you ignored him and turned the other way.

Did I do something wrong? Maybe I forgot her birthday? No, it was a month ago and we ate chocolate cake together.

All day Max was wondering what he did to make you upset. He had even brought a tiny bag with only red, blue, orange and yellow gummy bears for you. He had spent an hour picking out your favorite gummy bears and now you weren’t talking to him. . .

Little Max Verstappen had his first heartbreak at the hands of his first love.

The next day he figured you would start talking to him, but it was like he didn’t even exist in your world. He was starting to lose hope.

“Good, now you won’t have any distractions.” Jos told him after Max mentioned how you had stopped talking to him.

“But she wasn’t!”

“She was.” Jos confirmed.

Max stayed quiet. He knew it was no use trying to argue with his father.

As you both grew up, Max was beside you at every podium even if you weren’t on speaking terms. He hoped that maybe one day you would speak to him. He also kept a plastic bag in his bag with your favorite gummy bears to share with you in case that day ever came.

2021 SEASON

Max was both nervous and excited for the last few races of the season. Both you and him were battling for the championship. It was like a dream come true for him, both of you in Formula 1 and now you’re both in the championship picture. He wouldn’t have it any other way. To Max, it would’ve been better if you could at least acknowledge him.

It was after the Brazilian Grand Prix when Max wanted to congratulate you on your win, but had to wait until you finished with your interviews. He was eager to talk to you.

The post-race interviews were a whirlwind, but the moment that caught your attention was when a reporter, eager for a headline, asked you about Max Verstappen.

“We've heard that you and Max were childhood friends. What’s the story there? You two seem to be fierce competitors now. Was there any friendship left between you, or is it all business these days?"

Your smile tightened. It was the last thing you wanted to discuss, but you were a professional, and you knew better than to let your personal life spill over into the press room. Your gaze flicked to the corner where Max was conducting his own interviews, but you quickly refocused on the question.

“Max and I... we were friends, sure," you said coolly, your voice steady but your tone sharp, almost as if you were trying to distance yourself from the memory. "But that was a long time ago. I don’t really have time for friendships anymore. Racing’s my focus. It always has been."

“But you were so close back then," the reporter pressed. "Is it hard to battle him for the title, given your history?"

You shrugged, trying to maintain your composure. "Racing's not about who you used to be friends with. It’s about who’s the best right now. And I’m focused on being the best."

“So, no hard feelings?" he asked, genuinely curious.

You didn’t miss a beat. "No time for feelings," you replied, your lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Just results."

After finishing all your interviews, you walked back to your driver’s room. All you wanted was to lay down and take a much needed nap, but the sweet voice of a Dutchman stopped you. It had been years since you heard Max say your name.

Before you could say anything, Max stood up abruptly and walked toward you, his stride purposeful. He reached out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip, pulling you into your room without a word.

“Let go of me, Max," you whispered, but your voice cracked.

“No," he said simply, his tone rough, but his eyes were soft—something in them that you hadn’t seen in years. "I’m not letting you walk away again."

Your heart skipped a beat. His eyes searched yours, that fierce intensity you remembered from your childhood still present, though now mixed with something else—pain, perhaps. The unspoken hurt you both carried for so long hung between you two.

“Max," you began, but he cut you off.

“Why did you stop talking to me?" His voice was quieter now, but the question hung in the air, sharp and urgent. “Everyday i asked myself ‘did I do something wrong? Did I say something that hurt her?’ What is is? Why?”

Your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath, your eyes lowering to the floor. "You were my competition," you muttered. "And my mother… she made it clear. She said you would take everything from me. That I needed to stop talking to you or I’d lose everything." Your chest constricted, and you felt a sudden wave of bitterness rise within you. "She said you were nothing more than a threat to my future, and I had to focus—focus on winning.” It pained you to even remember all the talks your mother had with you about Max.

Max stared at you for a moment, taking in your words. The silence that followed was thick, the air between them charged with everything unspoken. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

“I never wanted to take anything from you." His eyes were filled with a quiet sincerity that made your stomach twist. "I never asked for this. I never asked for us to be enemies."

Your breath hitched as a knot formed in your chest. You stepped back, your hands trembling. "But that’s what she wanted. She wanted me to beat you, to prove I was better. To make sure you didn’t have what I could have." Your voice cracked, the words tumbling out in a flood of emotion you had long kept hidden. "I—"

Your words faltered as you felt the familiar sting of tears threatening to fall. You tried to hold them back, but the weight of it all—the pressure, the competition, the years of silence—was too much. You turned away, pressing your palms to your face, feeling the dam break inside you.

Max didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, his arms enveloping you in an instant. You stiffened at first, surprised by the warmth and steadiness of his embrace. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, couldn't think. But then, something inside you snapped, and you collapsed into him, your body shaking as the tears finally came.

Max didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you, his hand gently rubbing your back, grounding you in the moment.

"I’m sorry," you whispered between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You kept repeating.

His grip tightened ever so slightly, as if offering you the comfort and understanding you had been denied for so long. "You didn’t deserve any of that." You clung to him, unable to stop the flood of emotions that had been building for years.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the sobs turned into shallow breaths. Max didn’t let go. He stayed, a quiet anchor, as if he would hold you for as long as you needed.

When you finally pulled back, your eyes were swollen, your makeup smudged, but you felt something lighter—something like relief, like a door you hadn’t realized was closed had finally opened.

“Does your dad know you’re here?” You wiped away the tears.

“I don’t really care about him right now,” Max responded. He took your hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “You need me right now.”

“Max, I don’t want you to get in trouble. You need to leave.”

“I’m a grown man. He can’t tell me who I can and any talk to.” He said.

“Then . . . I don’t care what my mother says either,” You declared. “You know, she said we couldn’t talk anymore because you were my competition. That I shouldn’t get too close to you. She thought it would make me weak."

“Your mom never understood that... you’re not my competition. You never were. You were my best friend. And I . . . I miss that.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Max.”

QATAR

The camera lights flickered on, and the usual hum of the media circus surrounded Max Verstappen as he sat in front of the press. Another victory under his belt, but the atmosphere in the room felt different today—slightly more tense than usual. The 2021 season was in full swing, and the rivalry between Max and his childhood best friend and fellow F1 driver, had become one of the most talked-about stories of the year.

“Max, earlier this week, someone that you knew quite well was quoted saying, ‘No time for feelings, just results,’ when talking about your past friendship. Given the intensity of your current rivalry, how do you feel about that statement?”

He took a breath and leaned forward, his voice steady but laced with an undeniable undercurrent of emotion.

“she’s one of the most focused and driven people I know. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it’s like to be in her head—how much racing means to her. She’s an artist, in every sense of the word, when it comes to driving. She doesn’t do anything halfway.”

A brief silence fell over the room. Max seemed to weigh his next words carefully.

“We’ve both been through a lot over the years, and yeah . . . I get why she said what she did. This sport can make you say things you don’t always mean. It can make you choose things—like cutting ties with people who used to be your family, just so you can win. But trust me, it’s not easy for her. Or for me.”

His voice softened slightly, the edge of competition giving way to something more genuine—something rooted in your shared history.

“She’s not the kind of person to just forget about things or people. I know her better than anyone,” He continued. It was as if he could talk about you all day and never get bored. “As for the championship, yeah, It’s just the way it is. But that doesn’t change the fact that I respect her more than anyone. She’s a hell of a driver, and I know what she’s capable of.”

Max leaned back slightly, the cool exterior of the driver once again overtaking his emotions. He was a fighter. And this season, he wasn’t just fighting for the title.

ABU DHABI

It had been weeks since your last conversation with Max, but occasionally you would sneak glances at each other. Maybe even smile at him, which caused the media to wonder if your friendship had finally been restored.

The paddock was bustling with the usual pre-race energy—team members darting around, engineers checking telemetry, and drivers preparing for what would be a pivotal race. But Max Verstappen was not focused on the usual chaos. He was standing in front of your motorhome, his jaw clenched as he faced a woman who had been an obstacle in his life for far too long: you mother.

All he wanted to do before the race was to wish you good luck but he had one problem that came in the form of your mother.

“This is a pivotal moment for her career, Max. The championship is on the line. She needs to focus.” Your mother spoke.

Max’s eyes narrowed. “She doesn’t need you to tell her how to focus. She’s not a child anymore. She’s not your puppet.”

She smirked, her gaze calculating. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. You, on the other hand, have always been a distraction. Just like you were when you were kids. I told her back then that you were competition. And look where we are now—competing for the championship.”

Max took a step forward, his voice low but sharp. “You don’t get to control her anymore. She doesn’t deserve the way you treated her. She never did. She’s not some tool for you to use to further your own agenda. She’s a person. A damn good one, too.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smug grin. “And now you think you have feelings for her? After all these years? You’re wasting your time, Max.

Max’s chest tightened, a sudden rush of frustration coursing through him. He had always felt something for you—something deep and complicated—but he hadn’t realized how much until he saw you again. How could he not? The way you made him laugh, the way you understood him in a way no one else did. The way your presence grounded him when the world felt chaotic.

“I’m not wasting my time,” Max snapped, his voice rising. He was no longer just angry; there was something more vulnerable beneath his words. “I... I care about her. More than you’ll ever understand. And I’m not going to just stand by and watch you tear her down again.”

Her eyes widened, the smugness on her face faltering for just a moment. She hadn’t expected that. But she quickly recovered, her icy demeanor back in place. “You think you can just waltz in and change everything, Max? You think she’s going to forget the way I’ve always looked out for her?”

Max’s pulse was racing now. “You’ve never looked out for her. You’ve held her back. You’ve made her feel like she couldn’t trust herself. Do you know how many times she’s questioned her worth because of you?”

Before your mother could reply, Max spoke again. “If you think for a second that I’m going to back off now, you’re wrong.”

Your mother glared at the Dutchman. “I’ve spent years in Formula 1, fighting for every ounce of respect, and now I’m fighting for her, too. And I’m not letting anyone—least of all you—tell me what I can or can’t feel about her.”

His words hung in the air between them, the weight of them settling in. He turned to leave, but paused at the door of your motorhome, looking back one last time.

“Tell her,” Max said, softer now, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the finish line. I’ll always be waiting.”

Maybe your mother would pass on the message, maybe not. Either way, Max would still be waiting for you.

The roar of the crowd still echoes in the distance, but it’s muffled, almost surreal, as you stand behind the barriers, your helmet under your arm, heart still racing from the intensity of the race. The buzz of the paddock feels far away, and your body is heavy with exhaustion and disappointment. You finished second—close, but not close enough. Max had done it. He’d won the championship, after all the drama and all the battles that had led them to this final, decisive moment.

You lift your eyes and see him, standing by his car. Max, in his usual composed way, looking like he belongs there, like he's always belonged there, standing among the team and the media, all his focus, all his attention fixed on you. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips when he spots you, but it’s the way he’s standing, waiting, that hits you. Like he said he would.

You hesitate for a moment, thinking about your mother’s words, about everything that has always been said about Max—his arrogance, his rivalry, the fact that he’s always been competition. But this, here, this feels like something different. He’s not the enemy anymore. At least, not in the way they used to think of each other.

You take a breath, and then, almost instinctively, you walk toward him. As you step closer, you hear the whisper of her mother’s voice in the back of your mind, a warning you’ve heard so many times before. Stay focused. Don’t let him distract you. He’s your competition, not your friend.

But your steps don’t falter. You reach him, and when you do, you look up at him, your gaze soft, not the hardened competitive stare it once was. Max’s grin deepens, though it’s filled with something almost bittersweet.

“I heard you were waiting for me,” You said, the words slipping out before you can stop them. Your voice is steady, but there’s a touch of vulnerability in it, something you can’t quite mask.

Max’s eyes soften, and for a moment, it feels like time pauses. He looks at you as if he’s not seeing the driver, the fierce competitor, but the girl he used to know—the one he used to race against in karting, the one who once shared the same dream, the one who still, in some ways, understands him better than anyone else.

“I told you I would,” he replies quietly, his voice low and calm. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

Your mind flashes back to the words he said to your mother, the promise he made—I’ll always be waiting.

“You won. Congratulations.”

Max’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a certain warmth in the way he looks at you, a quiet understanding that goes beyond just racing. He takes a step closer, his voice a little softer now. “You’re better than you think. I have a feeling you’ll take it away from me next year.”

You shake your head, but there’s no bitterness in your gesture. “Next year,” you repeat. Your fingers press the edge of your helmet tighter, almost like you’re grounding herself in this moment. But there’s something else too—a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. “Maybe. But I’m just glad you’re here.”

Max’s smile is genuine now. “I’ll always be here. Waiting for you to finally beat me.”

You laugh—a real laugh this time, one that’s not forced. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that one day,” you say, your voice a little lighter. “You should go with your team, I’m sure they’re waiting to drown you in champagne.”

Max chuckles, then steps forward. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, standing in the midst of the chaos, everything else fading into the background. You breathe in, realizing just how much this—this moment—matters more than the championship itself.

“So, Max, you’ve just won the title, but there’s a lot of talk about your competitor. She’s been called ‘too emotional’ in the past by some. What’s your take on how she handled this title fight?”

Max turns towards the reporter, a protective energy surging in him. He absolutely hated doing interviews, all he wanted to do was get back to you. “Well, for one, I think anyone who says she’s ‘too emotional’ is clearly not paying attention. She’s one of the most focused drivers out there. Honestly, anyone who thinks you can compete in this sport at the level we’ve been at, especially in the last few races, without being deeply passionate—well, they don’t understand what it takes.” He glances over at you, who’s trying to hide a smile while also looking frustrated with the question.

While you were a few feet away from him doing your own interview, you could hear Max. You tried hard to listen to the interview questions, but all you wanted to do was listen to what Max had to say.

“isn’t it a bit too much? The way she gets in her own head. She’s been—well, let’s just say, a bit of a perfectionist this season.”

Max shook his head, chuckling at the reporters words. “But, you know, that’s exactly why she’ll be winning a championship someday soon. I have no doubt about it, but I’m excited for the day she takes my championship away.”

Max could hear you burst into laughter at his words. His smile grew ten times bigger. “Seriously, though, she’s one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever known. she’ll steal the show when you least expect it. And maybe she’s a little bit hard to understand at times, but that’s exactly what makes her great.”

The reporter nodded. “Are you saying she’s like, uh, the Billy Joel song?” He asked confused.

Max grinned, clearly amused by the confusion. “She’s always a woman to me. Maybe I’m not the best person to explain it, but you get the idea.”

You chuckled once again as you heard Max. He really had a way with words.

“And one day, I’ll be watching her take the title with the same respect I have for her right now.”

That’s when you decide to step in after finishing your interview. “Maybe, Max. But for now, I think I'll let you have your moment. You’ve earned it.”

“We both did. I owe it all to you.”

[myladysapphire]

To Gwayne, with love

tired of being ingored and undervalued, you take your dragon and leave to find the one person who sees you for who you really are; your uncle, Gwayne Hightower

based of this request

word count: 5,086

CW: MDI, 18+, smut, loss of virginity, p in v, fingering, oral (f reciving), incest, angts, love letters (if the title wasnt a hint), fluff, love confessions, not proofread!

Gwayne Hightower x neice!reader

Masterlist

Growing up as the eldest child, and eldest daughter of Alicent and Viserys you had long felt unwanted and overlooked.

Where your twin, Aegon, was seen as a future king, the rightful heir, you were seen as only a daughter, pushed to the side and out of the limelight.

Always looked over, even when it came to marriage. Where it made sense for you to marry Aegon, Heleana married him instead.

You were overlooked, and often forgotten.

Even events held in your honour were overshadowed, be it by your twin or your eldest sister Rhaenrya.

Countless nights tears had filled your eyes as you were pushed aside in favour of another sibling.

It was a funny thing really, you were the eldest daughter and yet were the last to be betrothed, excluding Daeron that was. And yet you had once been dubbed the Realms heart, you had been kind and sweet. But years of neglect, being undervalued and ignored had turned you cold and restless and made you a rebel. Where your uncle Daemon was the rouge prince, you were the defiant princess.

You had stopped waiting by the sidelines, stopped keeping too yourself and your thoughts stopped being quiet. you become outspoken, even more so when your brother was crowned king.

But all that seemed for nought as you were now meet with roll of eyes and the sound of the key locking your chambers from the outside.

You couldn’t say you were surprised, not when your mother seemed to hate you more than Aegon.

She never understood you, only one person had.

Gwayne Hightower, your uncle.

You and he had an understanding that others could only envy, you couldn’t put it into words but ever since you had meet him you felt inexplicitly drawn to him.

And yet you had only meet him thrice.

But those three times amounted into countless letters.

When one was sent two would follow, even on the road Gwayne never failed to write.

Until now.

You were sat in your chambers and an ache in your chest as you read through the last of Gwayne letters. Near two weeks had passed since his last had arrived, and these past two weeks had been when you had needed his letters the most.

dearest niece,

Words cannot describe the joy I felt upon seeing you the other, even if only for a few hours before my departure.

You have grown ever so beautiful, and I envy those who got to watch you became the beauty you are today, though I envy them more for the endless pleasure of your company.

Who knew your wit was even more compelling in person, dear niece?

I sure did not and yet your endless humour is known what I crave as I am stuck of this endless rode with ser Criston as the most interesting of my companions.

And let me tell you he is far duller than you painted. (Not that you painted him to have much of a personality aside form swords and a love for oranges.)

Perhaps it his cockiness or the self-righteousness he has as the new lord hand, which makes his so dull. He seems to love to point out his new station to us all, especially my Hightower knights, as if that will win him any favours.

Though I truly believe he thinks himself funny, though his voice is always far to monotone to decipher what is an attempt at a joke or what is orders and commands.

Gods, I wish I had stolen you away with me, even just to share the looks at Criston ‘jokes’ as he calls them.

Honestly, he is perhaps the dullest man I have ever met, what your mother sees in him I’ll never know.

But I must admit little of my time is spent completing his joke when I cannot stop thinking of you.

Tomorrow, we ride to rook’s rest, he says he has some plan, I do not quite believe it will be a good one, but I shall prey to the seven that we will be victorious, and I may see you again.

Yours, Gwayne.

You had replied far to quickly though being locked n your chamber after yelling you would ride your dragon to meet your uncle would of course leave you with little to do.

To Gwayne,

I am truly sorry you are stuck with such a dreadful man, if I had gone with you I can assure you however there would not have been much time to dwell of Cristons joke attempts, I would steal far to much of your attention, perhaps enough were you were unable to fight in this silly little war.

I do hope your thoughts of me do not distract you too much.

I wish you great luck in at rook’s rest though I fear you may have to face Meleys, and in which case I pray my mother sees sense and allows me to ride out and join the fight on moonfyers, though I Highley doubted.

But from Aegon’s visit to my prison cell (my chamber’s), it seems he is quite egar to fight, though seeing as how the small council so easily sway his mind, I doubt he will, unless he drinks himself into a false sense of courage that is.

But I pray you do not repeat those words, especially to my mother.

I too crave for your presence; it is a misery that despite years of letters we have met thrice! And the third was only days ago.

 Perhaps when you go, we can make your visits permanent.

I pray for your victory uncle, and your next letter.

With love, your dearest niece.

You had sent that letter 12 days ago; rooks rest was 10 days ago.

Of course, the journey back must be accounted for, but no one had any news, besides the death of Meleys and the princess Rhaneys, the queen who never was.

You had rather liked her, in fact you hoped to model yourself of her in some way. Though you had no right to morn you suppose, you had never spoken to her bar the common pleasantries.

You stood starting out of the window, craving the day you could smash them down and make your escape. Though where you would go, you did not know. Before the war you had one destination in mind, oldtown. Now there was no one there for you, just as there wasn’t anyone here.

The forgotten daughter. No matter how defiant you became you would only be tolerated and ignored. Your actions simple receive a tolled eye and of course, the action of yet gain being locked in your chamber.

Perhaps if your mind hadn’t been so caught up in your loathing and thoughts of jumping from your window onto the back of moonfyers you would have noticed the door opening and the feel of hands slowly covering your eyes.

You jumped in shock as your eyes were covered, only to calm down when a voice spoke.

“Guess who?” a mans voice teased, though it was the voice you had ingrained into your memory.

“Gwayne” you breathed turning around.

He laughed as you hugged him.

“When did you get back?” you asked, arms still wrapped around him.

“Only moments ago,” he sighed, “did you miss me?” he teased.

Slapping his arm lightly, you stepped back “of course not”.

“Hmm…really?” he tilted his head, clicking his tongue, “I could have sworn your letter said- “

“Stop it!” you said hitting his shoulder again.

“Fine!” he said raising his hands up in mock surrender, “only if you top hitting my arm, your poor uncle has just fought a battle”.

You rolled your eyes “and am I to presume you were victorious uncle?”

“If you could call it that”.

“What do you mean?”

He looked nervous, an expression you had never seen on him before, “your brother Aegon- “

“Aegon went! That fool”

“a fool who got himself injured”.

“what” you asked, voice full of concern. Though an outcast, overshadowed by your twin, you still cared for him greatly, even if he never showed care for you in return.

He explained what had happened and your mind spun, no one had said a thing to you and yet your twin brother lay dying in his rooms.

“I must go see him” you rushed out, heading towards the door, only for Gwayne to grip your arm.

“Go later.” He insisted, “for now stay with me! and here my woeful tales of battle”.

Shaking your head with a laugh you sit back down, listening to tales of Gwanye’s journey and of the battle, and all thoughts of Aegon were forgotten.

You woke up finding yourself wrapped in Gwayne arms on your settee. You didn’t remember falling asleep, only talking and watching the sunset and rise once more.

It must have been past noon and yet no one had knocked or come to see you, not that they had before now.

You looked over at Gwayne, he was tired, even after hours of sleep he still had bags under his yes.  

Removing yourself from his arms slowly, you made your way out of your rooms and towards your brothers.

Aegon lay alone. The room dark and empty, bar his aching, unconscious body, half his body covered in bandages, his body deadly slit and his breath shaky.

You moved closer to the bed, coming forward and placing a soft kiss on his brow.

He may be terrible, drunken whoremonger but he was still your brother.

“Aegon” you breathed heavily, taking his unburnt hand in yours, “I- “ the doors opened, and your mother barged in, “get out!” she demanded.

“Mother, I- “you said standing up.

“Get out” she said once more, coming to sit by Aegon’s side.

Standing up and moving towards the door slowly, “he’s my brother, I have every right to be here!”

She looked at you, scoffing “that matters not, now leave and go back to your rooms”.

Rolling your eyes you left and stormed back to your rooms.

“Gwayne” you breathed, seeing him now awake and sitting up, reading a book.

“How Is Aegon” he asked, as you approached.

“a sleep? I do not know my mother sent me out only a few moments after I had entered.”

He kissed his teeth, “your mother has changed much recently”.

“Recently? She has always been liked this, with me at least”

“I know, my darling… I think she- “he stopped himself, looking at you, “I am not sure what she thinks actually, me and her where never close growing up”.

You huffed, looking over at him and realising that the book he was reading was in fact your diary.

“Is that my diary!”

“no” he said dragging out the word as he moved the book out of your reach.

“Where did you- how did you”

“Do not worry how your “beautiful and daring uncle” found it”.

You gasped, crawling over him to try and reach your diary.

He laughed, as you grasped at the book, “give it back” you insisted.

“But Gwayne would be never- “

You reached the book, slapping it out of his hand, “how much of it did you read?”

“Why did you not want me to read of how much you missed me?”

“Gwayne” you sighed, looking at him, you were practically lying on him, your hands leaning on chest as you reached for your diary of the floor.

“darling” he replied, before looking at you sadly, his hand reaching to caress your cheek, “I have to go soon”.

“To your chambers or to oldtown?” you asked sadly.

“Oldtown, I – “

You interrupted him, “when?”

“We leave after dinner, we thought it best to travel at night, out of sight of dragons”.

“I see” you said moving off of him. He reached for you, trying to draw you back towards him.

Everyone always leaves or ignored you. It seemed no matter how close you got you were so easily abandoned, never once had someone stayed.

“I would ask you to come, but your mother would never allow it” he said shaking his head.

Why would she allow it? It would make you happy and the gods know how much your mother craved your misery.

“Do you think there will ever be a time when-when we can spend limitless time together?”

“I hope so, I- “he always stopped himself from saying it, saying the one thing they both craved.

“As do I”

The rest of the day was spent together craving to spend every second that they could together, but in the end, he had to leave. He was bound by duty and honour.

Saying goodbye this time was harder than the few times before it. You both stood in the courtyard, his men stood the side, their own conversations distracting them.

Your mother having said her goodbyes, and had left the courtyard already, leaving you both to say your goodbyes.

“I hope it is not to long before I can see you again” you said looking down to thew ground and kicking at the gravel.

“As do I” Gwayne said grabbing your hand and kissing it gently.

Your eyes shared a look, a look saying everything you both couldn’t.

“I’ll miss you” you breathed heavily, eyes never leaving his.

you both stepped closer, now inches apart.

You moved your lips to kiss his cheek, only for Gwayne to move his head and capture your lips with his, in a soft delicate kiss.  

The shadows of the keep kept you had hidden from wandering eyes as you kissed.

It was short but sweet and left you both wanting more as he was forced to step back from you.

He whispered softly “I will think of you, always”.

“As will I” you said, reaching into you hem and pulling out your handkerchief, you had sown the initial of your name and his ono it, and placed it in the palm of his hand.

Closing is hand you softly placed a kiss onto it.

“goodbye” he spoke, before moving to his horse and riding off, sending you a final look before he left.

The days tricked by, blurring together. Aegon’s recovering slow and with little change.

You stayed in your room, much to your mother’s delight.

Letters were exchanged between you and Gwayne. But this time the letters seemed different, this time they were bolder, your feelings no longer hidden.

Dearest,

I left you only moments ago and yet I miss you already.

That kiss was everything and more, I cannot believe it took us so long to do it, even of it happened by a mistake.

I am sorry our reunion was so brief, and I wish I was bound to you and not duty.

I shall write again soon, but in the meantime, I hope the thought of you in my thoughts will tide you over.

Yours, Gwyane.

Dear Gwayne,

You just left my side and yet apart of me left with you.

I hope your thoughts are filled with me as mine are of you.

The walk back to my room was a long one, longer than it had ever taken me as I had to drag myself away from you, away from moonfyers as thoughts of chasing after you filled my mind.

My mind was a mess all night, much to my mother’s disappointment. Though I doubt she noticed my mind was with you and not in the keep.

This morrow I was awoken absurdly early and summoned to the small council!

And before you say anything I am not sure as to why, even after attending it.

I seemed to be there as a way to boost Aemond’s moral? Or should I say the prince regents.

I was simple them to watch plans be made, and to be told of an alliance, a marriage between me and some lords son, I believe some Tully.

I refused and they demanded.

I offered my dragon, they refused, and I demanded.

They claimed a woman in battle would only lead to a loss. Even if moonfyers is bigger than most for her age and even rivals Caraxes.

Anything else was ignored and dismissed and I was quickly ushered to my chambers and forced to plan a wedding.

A wedding I wish was with you.

I do not know what to do, uncle.

Please tell me to come to you, and I will.

Yours always.

My love,

The days are endlessly long, and I find myself craving you by myside more than ever.

You chase my every though both awake and asleep.

And forgive me for beings bold, niece, but I can, no will not hold back what I have longed to crave any longer.

I wished I had placed you upon my horse and ridden of with you into the night, defying your mother and brothers’ commands.

But I want you, more than I need air to breath. And for so long I have defied myself and held back my desires, my love for you.

I beg you, come to me.

Forget their plans and demands, come to me and marry me.

I am set to arrive in old town in two days, leaving you plenty of time to come to me.

With love, Gwyane.

To Gwyane,

I will come to you, it may take a few days, but I cannot stay here. And I will not stay away from you any longer.

With love, your heart.

you sat in your chambers, contemplation how you to leave.

Though there were secret passageways in your room, you had never used them. They were like a labyrinth in truth and the one time you had speed in them you feared you would get lost.

And the guards stationed outside of your door were stationed for the exact reason you were event you were currently planning.

your other would never let you go willingly, not now especially.

But then again you doubted she would notice you were gone, at least for a day or two.

Heleana may notice, but she wouldn’t say a thing.

Aemond had just been given what he always wanted and would flaunt his power as much as he could, meaning he’d keep put of your way, in fear you would ‘act up’, as he called it, and embarrass him.

This meant that the guards were your only issue, and perhaps Larys spy’s. though you cared not for them for what could they do to stop you? Tattle to Larys who would sell the information for the sight of your mother’s feet? Even then you would have a few hours.

Luckly for you however, you knew your guards. And they had a penchant for wine.

“Steffon, Gregor” you whispered opening your door a bottle of Dornish red in hand.

“Princess” they nodded, tuning around to ignore you.

“You must be bored” you started, “perhaps you can join me for a drink?” you said, fluttering your eyelashes.

They turned to face each other unsure of what to do, “oh come on, know one will care. You’ll still be guarding me, won’t you?”

Their eyes wandered to the bottle of wine “is that the only bottle, princess?”

You scoffed, “of course not”.

They smiled and ushered you in to your chamber.

It was funny, you must have done this a dozen time before and they still fell for it every time.

And being such lightweights, they were quick to fall into a drunken sleep, allowing you to grab your bag and make a run for the dragon pit.

Running through the streets of Kingslanding at night were dan, especially in your rich clothes and jewels.��        

And seeing as you had only walked to the dragon pit once or twice, with the company of a dozen guards, the run was a lot longer than expected.

Getting lost in the never-ending streets of flea bottom was easy, and before you knew it you had somehow ended up on the streets of silk.

“gods” you mumbled, looking around in search of a sign to lead you in the right direction.

You could see the dragon pit, so at least you weren’t too far away, only issue is the brothel with the name ‘Chantaya’s’ seemed to stand in the way of a quick exit.

“sister” you heard someone say, and the sight of Aemond exiting said brothel, through you into a sprint once again.

You were sure you looked like some pick pocket as you ran through the street, Aemond hot on your tale.

And with being such a stranger to kings landing you found yourself meeting an end and Aemond catching up to you.

“Let go of me” you muttered trying to pull yourself free from Aemond’s grasp.

“Who let you out” he sneered.

“Does it matter?” you sneered in return, “what are you even doing here?” you asked, and Aemond face dropped.

“I could ask you the same”.

“I wanted to go to the dragon pit” “the dragon pit” he reiterated, not believing you. “To what? Declare for the usurper?”

“Gods no” you near yelled, “I- “you were hesitant to tell him, having never got on along with him and never having much to say to him at all, this was honestly the most you and he had spoken since the start of the war. “I wish to go to oldtown”.

“why”

“To…to see Gwyane”.

“Our uncle?”

“Do you know of another Gwyane I could possibly wish to see in oldtown?” you said snidely.

He hummed, looking at you with a smirk, “I am your prince regent, I command you know” he said, “one word from me and I could have you locked in the black cells, or I could command you to go to oldtown to gather forces, with Gwayne”

You hated that you looked at him hopeful and hated even more that if he asked you would beg.

“But why, dear sister? Should I command you to oldtown? You are the future lady Tully after all”.

You scoffed, “oh please, we both know the Tullys are hardly loyal now and the second old Grover Tully dies they’ll declare for the black’s”.

“true”

“And why would you want me here anyway? I do not listen, and I defy your every move, sending me a way would better your rule, would it not?”

“Oh sister, you truly have been undervalued. Fine I shall take you to the dragon pit and order you to oldtown.”

Order you? As if there was a single part of you that did not already crave to be there, with him.

The walk to the dragon pit was a quiet and awkward, with Aemond pulling you by the hand, a tight grip as if you would try to escape.

Not a word was exchanged even as you entered, only your words commanding the dragon keepers to fetch you moonfyers and Aemond stood beside you in his usual stance.

He gave you a taunting wave as you took flight, and you never looked back.

It took five hours for you to reach oldtown.

A storm thundered as you entered the reach, rain dowsing your and obstructing your vison. Had it not been for the bright blue scales of your brother’s dragon, Tesserion you were sure you would have flown into the Hightower.

Landing, you were quickly greeted with guards and the face of your brother Daeron.

“Brother” you greeted as you slide of your dragon, “a pleasure to see you!”

“And you, Gwayne said you were coming” he nodded, hand raised to stop rain pouring over his face, “come in, quickly”

The Hightower, was exactly as you envisioned, filled with riches and symbols of the seven. It looked like a museum almost.

You were brough into a room lined with seats and walls filled with books. Painting filled with the faces of old lords and ladies, and tapestry depicting Aegon s landing in oldtown and his coronation.

“niece” you heard a voice breath, causing your inspection to come to a halt as you turned and faced Gwayne,

“uncle” you breathed in return and not a moment later were you running into his arms and your lips meeting once more.

This kiss was different than the one in the courtyard, this one was filled with longing, filled with pure love and desire.

Years of want filling you mouths your lips moved against each other.

“Gwayne” you whispered against his lips, as you both breathed heavily, your heads leant against each others.

He whispered your name in return, “you came” he breathed, not quite believing it.

“of course, you asked…and the prince regent commanded it”

He laughed “what?”

“when I was making my mistake i came across Aemond leaving a brothel” you laughed, “and somehow he decided to command me to oldtown to gather forces”

“oh?” he said, head tilting, “I see…does that mean you now command me?”

“do I not anyway?” you asked tauntingly.

He laughed, grabbing you to him once more and pulling you into another kiss, “I believe we command each other, my love” he said breaking the kiss.

“my love?”

“my love” he agreed, caressing your cheek, “I love you” he finally admitted.

And you smiled. Looking at him as he always looked at you.

He always had seen you, understood you when no one else did.

And the look in his yes, it was pure love and you had never felt more seen than in this moment.

“I love you” you replied, and he smiled.

“come with me” he said taking your hand and leading you up to his room.

His room, though perhaps smaller than others, was still large and full of all things Gwayne. With his own mural and tapestry.

“do you like it?” he asked, taking note of your eyes that had not left the tapestry he had commissioned.

“is that?” you asked, unsure if you were seeing it right.

“Moonfyer and you, yes”

“gods, Gwyane” you said breathlessly, a mural of you riding moonfyers for the first time, your second time meeting Gwyane and the first time you and he realised the bond between you both.

You turned to face him, and kissed him once more.

Unlike before this kiss was heated, passionate and full of lust.                                                                                                 

His hands moved to your waist, as you slowly moved towards the bed, your hands reaching and pulling at his clothes, taking them of and leaving him in only his small clothes.

Your dress wet and soaked was quickly torn of you intern, leaving you only in your soaked chemise.

Their lips broke apart as her legs hit the bed. Taking each other in Gwayne moaned at the sight of your breast peeking out through the now sheer chemise.

“can i?” Gwayne breathed, hand coming to toy with the strap of your chemise.

You nodded, allowing your chemise to slip and leaving you bare before him.

“gods” he breathed, “ you are beautiful” he said, before pushing you down on the bed, his lips connecting with yours.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, nipping at your skin, causing you to moan softly.

He kissed his way down your body, before he reached your cunt.

“can i?” he asked once more, eager to taste her cunt.

“yes”  you said, not quite sure what he intended to do until you felt his nose nudge between your thighs and a slow lick alone the length of your cunt.

groaning at the taste, he quickly went back licking and tasting your cunt, like a man starved. You moaned pleasure, hands moving to tug his hair as he found your clit.

Touching yourself had never felt like this, the sheer pleasure you felt as he sucked your clit into his mouth was better than any orgasm you had brought yourself to before, even more so when you felt his fingers toying with your entrance.

You tensed as his fingers entered you. They were thicker and longer than your own and you started to feel the stretch as he pumped you full of his two fingers.

You moaned, your body moving off the bed as you his fingers pumped in and out.

His hand moved to your waist gripping you down as he continued to fill you, your moans filling the room as his third finger entered you and you soon reached your peak.

He slowly backed away from you, pulling down his small clothes to revel his hard, thick cock.

“oh!” you spoke, at the sight of him.

“oh? Not good enough niece?” he asked teasingly.

“gods, it, yes” you nodded, reaching out to him.

He laughed, before slowly crawling onto the bed, his body covering yours. Taking your lips his, in a passionate and heated kiss, as his legs slowly parted yours as he positioned himself at her entrance.

“Are you sure?” he breathed against your lips, hand holding your waist as his cock teased your entrance.

You nodded, reaching forward to kiss him again, “yes”.

At the word he entered you slowly.

You groaned at the stretch but found no pain as he entered you.

His long cock filling you, a bulge appearing in your stomach as he allowed time for you to adjust.

“gods, you feel amazing” he groaned, moving his head to the nape of your neck “can I move?” he groaned, as your walls wrapped around him.

Nodding, “yes” you breathed. And wasting no time he began to slowly pump in and out of you.

You moaned as he thrusted into you, your hips moving to meet his as he picked up the pace.

He groaned at the feel of you moving against him, has hands gripping your waist as he started to thrust into you faster, he soon found that sweet spot inside you, that quickly turned you into a moaning mess. And soon you were wrapping your arms around him, clawing at his back as you felt your peak it washes over you and the feel if his seed filling you.

Your breath was heavy, his even heavier as he lay on you, his face still in your neck leaving soft kisses as he started to move of you slightly.

“marry me” he said, giving you soft kisses between his words. “this place is filled with septon’s it will be easy to find one to marry us.”

“okay” you said, looking into his yes.

“okay?”

You laughed, “yes, Gwyane I will marry you.”

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a/n: spent so long on the graphic 💀

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yourinsta you’re my og 🫶

landonorris just og? 😔

username I swear if oscar gives us nothinggg

username MY BABY IS SHY OKAY?

username GOOD DAY TO BE A LOGAN SARGEANT FAN 🦅🦅🦅🦅

username I could only pray the Spanish flag is for Fernando 😩

— oscar piastri

Nervously sipping on his emotional support orange juice. Maybe too much nervous sipping.

“So, what’s your type?”

“My girlfriend?”

“Tell her she’s mine too.”

“WOw, will do.”

Cheeks turning red, munching on the fries like a little chipmunk he is.

“I mean– I have three sisters so…”

“That’s a green flag.”

“Thank you?” a piece of chicken in, a smile comes out. “That’s it?”

“Maybe if he’s…Australian, maybe.” you shrugged.

“Yeah.”

“And if he’s…wait. what sign are you?”

“Don’t know..I think it’s kinda nonsense.”

“That’s a red flag.”

“Sorry?” cheeky.

The orange juice was left unattended for a minute. Good sign. Chuckles were still evident.

“Let’s get serious here…” shifting in your seat.

“Yeah.”

“You drive for a living?”

“Yeah, I go around in circles ‘nd stuff,” juice pause. “I could drive you around Melbourne..if you’d want to–”

“And you’ll take me back by eight? Maybe offering your hand as well?”

“Yeah,” squinting face. “I could do that.”

“Lovely.”

— carlos sainz

Does that thing with his eyes, bending down to take the fries in…while keeping an intense eye contact.

“Smooth operator, you like that song?”

“Everyone favorite song no?”

“Hard choice.” pausing your fries mid air. “Spanish songs that I have no idea what they’re talking about could be up there.”

“Really? Tell me one.”

“The one from fast and furious.”

“A lot of them,” throwing his head back. “Can you sing it for me?”

“Asking for me to sing already. You’re in a hurry Carlos?” a sip of your Diet Coke. “Fast Five?”

“Eh..Danza Kuduro?”

“How could I know?” you shrugged. “What’s the song about anyways?”

“Something like…dancing…er…with tight ass.”

“Make sense.”

Looking confused as ever with that big, brown eyes. Mouth agape and shut every time few seconds, curling into a smile most of the time.

“So you’re still looking for job next year?”

“Huh?”

“Lewis Hamilton? Looking for job?”

“Eh..” leaned back in his seat. “Could be. Are you offering?”

“I’m a pretty busy girl..”

“Really? How busy?”

“So you’re up for it? That’s fast.”

“I’ll have to talk to my manager,” raising his eyebrow. “What is your requirement?”

“A Ferrari driver.”

“Sure.”

— charles leclerc

Trying to not laugh his ass off every five seconds or just completely blanks out. Chicken tasted good though.

“Charles, I have to ask you one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“How do you pronounce your last name?”

“I don’t..I don’t care, really.” Shrugging his shoulders. “Charles. Le. Clare.”

“Hm…maybe just use my last name instead, it’s easier.”

“I– yeah?”

“What?”

His chicken was pretty cleaned up the first few minutes. Plenty of confused chuckles.

“Do you think you are a committed person?”

“I…I…it’s a hard question no?” he put his hand together, in an Italian – sorry, Monegasque way. “I like to say I am.”

“I could tell.”

“Really? How?”

“Your contract with Ferrari.”

— logan sargeant

He was used to burger and fries but maybe he could just tolerate chicken and fries for your pretty company.

“What’s your ideal date?”

“Hm..definitely chicken shop dates.”

“Really? Where’s best chicken you ever had then?”

“This one.”

“That’s not an option.”

Subtle stares here and there, his cheeks might be hurting from all the grinning though.

“What’s your ideal type?” munching his ketchup-ed fries.

“So you don’t do researches.”

“I am now.”

“You know…starting to have a thing for Americans. You have any recommendations?”

“You could start by going fishing in the Keys with me,” stretched his arms.

“I’m not into fishy things.”

“Just boat rides?”

“I could do that.”

Coke break.

“Your thoughts on frat boys?”

“They’re fine,” he shrugged.

“And you’re not like a..secret member? Is it like a One Direction..thing?”

“Maybe better looking?” smirked. “I could see myself being one if I wasn’t racing.”

“Dreams do come true, Sargeant.”

“Ouch,” clutching his chest. “Ah– well– Maybe this other dream could come true as well?”

“You being better looking than One Direction?”

tell me who should be in chicken shop dateee 😩😩

– @namgification @jsjcue @c-losur3

Today’s a great day to take care of yourself!!

[utterlyazriel]

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

[f1fantasys]

I would like to request a Lando Balmain with 4.

They break up and meet again after some time at an event. They need to be polite with each other, but they cannot do it, and they start to say bad comments to each other until someone escorts them out. Outside they continue discussing, shouting, tears, and getting wet because it´s raining and while they are looking into each other eyes, one of them admitted that they are still in love with the other person.

Absolutely love this request!

Always

Balmain - he breaks up with you, then you meet again after some time, very angsty, some smut #4 - possessiveness

Warnings - filthy smut, minors DNI.

4.7K

As hurt as you were having your heart shatter into a million pieces when he broke up with you, you knew where he was coming from. It made sense.

How he did it? Did not make sense.

Your relationship was flourishing day by day. 3 years of intense love between the two of you.

Until Lando decided he needed to concentrate on his racing, no distractions. He was so close to winning the championship, and he needed to give it his all next year. Both your jobs were too demanding, and you couldn't follow him to every race. Put this all together and things started to shift - just an every growing distance between the two of you.

Missed texts, missed calls, missed dates, silly arguments over stupid things.

It was a few days before the end of the season. Lando sat you down and when you saw the look in his eyes, you knew what was coming. Before he even started talking, you begged him not to do. You loved him with every cell of your body, and to lose him would crumble you.

But he did it. You cried in his arms, praying he would take back his words and tell you he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

But he didn't. It was what he did then though, that hitched your breath.

''Come to Abu Dhabi, please. Just be there for me one last time'' ''Don't tell anyone about the breakup'' ''We can pretend to be good with each other for the weekend''

So, he breaks up with you, then asks if you're willing to fake date for a weekend? What an ass.

But I guess you were the bigger ass. Because you agreed.

On camera, Abu Dhabi was the perfect weekend for you both. Lando had won the championship. He hugged you multiple times. He kissed you like his life depended on it. To everyone else, you were THE couple that everyone wished to be.

Only with every hug, every kiss, every touch, your heart broke a little more, knowing that this was the end.

Fast forward six months and here you were.

Still trying to come to terms with not having Lando in your life anymore. After Abu Dhabi, the very next day in fact, you learned that Lando had blocked you on all socials - your number as well.

You spent hours and hours at Carmen's house, sobbing in her arms. Asking her where it all went so wrong. And although there was never really a nasty argument between you and Lando over the breakup, how it ended has left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You've spent the last six months trying to train your mind. You tried to hate him. Maybe that would make it easier. But how do you hate the man who gave you the best three years of your life? The man who told you he loved you multiple times a day? You just couldn't.

You still lived in Monaco, though you made sure to stay home or be out of the country whenever you knew Lando would be home between races. One thing he'd forgotten to do what take you off of his calendar, so you knew of his whereabouts.

Things were about to get awkward though, because you were to attend an event where Lando, and a lot of other drivers and wags (whom had been your shoulders to cry on) would be as well.

Normally you would have of course backed out of going, but it was for a charity that was close to your heart. And just because you'd be in the same room, it didn't mean you'd have to face each other. Right? Fuck, you hoped not.

It was a black tie event, so you went out of your way to buy a beautiful silk black gown that showed off your body beautifully. You'd even forgone underwear to let the dress sit just right.

You thought you'd be a nervous wreck all day but up until now, you were actually proud of yourself for holding your ground and being positive.

The universe had other plans for you though, because the first step you took into the beautiful hall had you bumping into someone.

Before you could even look up to apologize, your body froze in its place.

His voice, filled your ears.

''Fuck, sorry''

Just as you looked up, he was turning his body around to see who he'd bumped into.

Your eyes locked, and the whole world faded away for a split second. It was just you, and your Lando. Or so you thought. He wasn't yours, not anymore.

You allowed yourself to take in him for that second. He still looked so handsome, his piercing green eyes, dimples peaking through his cheeks, his slight stubble, his locks that you swore had a better hair care routine that you. He was just perfect in every sense.

You didn't miss how his eyes shamelessly roamed your body, before he cleared his throat, as if snapping himself out of it.

Lando opened his mouth but nothing came out. Your heart was beating out of your chest, memories flooding your mind. You wanted the ground to swallow you up right now, praying you don't break down in front of him.

Finally, he spoke up. ''Fancy seeing you here'' his tone not one you were used to being on the receiving end of.

''What's that supposed to mean'' you asked softly, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

He chuckled and you instinctively took a step back because this was not the same Lando.

''Just saying, i know you still check my calendar, and you've avoided every single place and event you've known I'll be at for 6 months now'' Always jetting out the country the second i land'' he said, tone harsh.

What the hell? you thought to yourself.

You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, and thank the lord you saw Carmen spot you and make her way to you quickly. Before you could respond, she gave Lando a dirty look and pulled you away to your seats for the evening.

You didn't think that seeing Lando again would bring such intense feelings back. You tried to calm your breathing and beating heart as Carmen tried to distract you as best she good.

Eventually you settled down a bit and tried to allow yourself to somewhat enjoy the evening, although he was always lingering at the back of your mind. You honestly never would have imagined your relationship with one another to turn sour to the point where Lando would make sarcastic remarks to you, throw daggers at you.

After dinner, as Carmen went to the bathroom, you found yourself at the bar, chatting to random people and enjoying a few drinks when Carlos approached you.

You seen him a handful of times over the months, he was always a close friend and someone you could call at any hour of the night if you needed something. He'd known how broken you were over Lando, so he just came to check in on you and see if you were okay.

''I'm good Carlos, walking on sunshine'' you joked which earned you a jab on your side.

Your eyes caught Lando behind Carlos, he was chatting to a girl, touching her elbows everytime she leaned in to laugh at what he was saying.

You sort of dazed off into watching them interact, until you realized Carlos was still talking and when your brain caught up with what he was asking, you saw Lando's back stiffen up.

''Huh?'' you asked Carlos to repeat his question.

''Not to open up any old wounds, but you and Lando were so happy in Abu Dhabi. What went so wrong after that?'' he asked as your breath hitched in your throat.

Did he really not know? you thought.

''Uh..'' you started, taking a breath. ''You really don't know?''

Carlos gave you a blank face.

''So you're saying that as one of Lando's best friends, you don't know what went down?'' you asked again.

He shook his head and you chuckled, nothing caring if Lando could hear you.

''It was an act, Carlos. All of it. The whole weekend. He broke up with me the week before and asked me to still come to the race, pretend we were still together'' you said, almost whispering the last part, already feeling tears gathering.

Lando turned around at your words and stood next to Carlos, who's face was in shock.

''You could have said no to the race'' Lando snapped.

Both you and Carlos looked at him, his words not making sense.

''Yeah, i could have been an ass and walked out when your broke up with me. But we were together Lando, you ended our 3 years relationship and sincerely asked me, and I quote, 'to be there for YOU at the last race.' I wouldn't shut you down so easily'' you said, voice soft, not believing you were actually having this conversation here of all places.

''You're making like i begged you to be there. Forced you to be there'' he spat back.

''Lando, what are you even saying? You didn't force me to do anything. i wanted to be there for. To see you win the championship'' you said.

''Oh?'' he questioned. ''You wanted to be there for me?''

''Mate,'' Carlos started but was quickly cut off by Lando speaking again.

''If you wanted to be there then where the fuck have you been all these months y/n?'' he said, voice grown louder with each word, angrier with each word.

By now your lips were quivering. He wasn't making sense. And you didn't like this other side of him.

''Lando, calm down'' Carlos interjected.

''No, answer me, y/n'' Lando shouted, turning a few heads in your direction.

Just then the security came, asked you both to step outside or stop the scene.

All the air was knocked out of your lungs as Lando roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him, walking briskly to the door.

''Lando let go of me'' you tried as you both stepped into the cool Monaco air.

He obliged and turned to face you, eyes boring into yours with a type of anger he'd never shown you.

''What are you doing?'' you asked, the tears breaking free and streaming down your face as you tried to control your sobs.

''Why did everything change? Before...'' he asked.

''What do you mean why did everything change? You fucking changed everything. You wanted me out, so you shut me out day by day, and here you are, asking me why all that happened''

The few drinks you had were giving you confidence to continue.

''And about inside,'' you pointed to the door. ''Why have I been avoiding you? Because you fucking got rid of me, blocked me, everywhere, barely 24 hours after kissing me in front of every camera when you won'' you choked out, voice breaking further with each word spoken.

You were telling your truth, and to see his piercing gaze on you not softening even a little, you weren't sure this was the same person you knew.

A few seconds of silence passed, and with that a few trinkets of rain started to come down, though neither of you made an attempt to move.

After what felt like an eternity, Lando sighed, his eyes softening to the ones you were familiar with, the ones you love(d).

''Why would you care? Even if i blocked you, why would you care seeing me again all these months, after everything i did?'' he asked.

This time you let out a chuckle and a nod. ''Ýeah, why would i care, right?''

Then the tears returned.

''I care because you were my everything, Lando. Everything. I love you like my life depends on it. And then you let me go. And I had to learn to live without you. So yes, i did care, I prayed i wouldn't see you anywhere because I knew one look and all those building blocks would crumble down'' you said, holding onto to the railing to calm your shaking body.

''You..love me?'' he asked.

''Love? Loved? I don't know. Can you stop fiercely loving someone with just a switch from them?'' you asked back, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

''No'' he whispered, causing you to look at him again, seeing his eyes fill with unshed tears.

''What?'' you questioned in disbelief.

''I don't think im capable of not loving you'' he whispered, knocking the air out of your lungs.

''Lando'' you whispered back, in a warning for him or yourself, you weren't sure.

''Fuck'' he muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning around for a second, composing himself before he turned back to you.

You stood there, waiting, not knowing what was coming.

Lando's eyes found yours as he took a step forward and took your hands in his, the both of you trembling, though not surprised at the jolt of electricity through your bodies.

''I've been the biggest dick, but fuck Y/N, I love you. I still love you so much'' he said.

You stayed silent, stunned at his confession, not knowing whether to follow your head or your heart.

The rain starting coming down harder, and this time Lando cupped your cheeks. ''Please, baby,'' he said, leaning down to let his lips ghost over your cheek.

His scent filled your nose and you felt drunk on him already, his breath cooling your cheek had your knees weak.

Finally, you bought your hands up to his face and before you could second guess yourself, you kissed him.

Lando was quick to respond, quickly taking control of the kiss as he wasted no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth and biting down on your bottom lip, making you whimper as his hands roamed your body.

It was messy and desperate, the both of you starved of each other for too long.

You pulled back after a while, needing air as Lando looked at you with the biggest smile, though his eyes told a different story. They were dark, full of lust.

''Come home?'' he asked, innocently, breathlessly, almost shouting over the rain

''Please, Lan'' you said, wanting nothing more than going home with him.

He ran inside to get you coats as you ordered an uber back to his place, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and butterflies, your skin shivering with goosebumps from the cold rain, while you ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to slow down.

Lando came practically running back to you, wrapping your coat around your shoulders as he rubbed your arms up and down to try and warm you up.

He leaned down, eyes level with yours. ''Gonna warm you up yeah?'' he said, teasingly.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his intense gaze, all you did was bite your lip in response to him.

Finally, the uber came, Lando crawling in behind you as his arms snaked around you pulling you impossibly closer, practically on his lap.

His lips found your neck as he left wet kisses, biting down and suckling on your sweet spot causing you to let put a few quite whimpers, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you.

Eventually, Lando's lips made their way up to yours. This time, he granted you access as your slid your tongue into his hot mouth and devoured him, not getting enough of his taste.

Speaking of taste, you couldn't actually wait to taste more of him, you thought your yourself.

Once you'd got back to Lando's, he made sure to leave a generous tip for the uber driver as you both shimmied out the car, and before you knew what was happening, Lando had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulders, getting distracted himself as his hands landed on your ass and gave it a few squeezes.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, spelling him out of it.

He smirked to himself and literally ran to the elevators and through his penthouse doors, roughly pressing you against them, returning his lips to yours for another heated make out session.

''Hmm, too many clothes'' he mumbled between kisses as your hands instinctively started undoing his shirt buttons, running your hands along his tones abs and torso.

By now he'd started pulling your dress up to your things, breaking the kiss to whimper when he realized you weren't wearing any panties.

''Gonna kill me y/n'' he said, trying not to sound desperate but failing miserably.

He let the straps of your dress fall off your shoulder, letting you stand bare in front of him, as he started kissing a trail down your chest as he exposed your breasts inch by inch.

Just as Lando licked his lips and was about to take a nipple into his mouth, he paused, looking up at you.

You breath hitched as his piercing green eyes had softened, a sincere look in them.

''We have so much to talk about, and i won't ever stop apologizing to you. I love you so much y/n, never letting you go'' he said with a low voice, almost like he was afraid you'd pull away.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb run across his cheeks, his lips.

''You're right, we do have a lot to talk about, and Lando i love you too, so much''

''We will, I promise'' he said, before you pushed him down on you again, to which he happily obliged.

You watched and let out a guttural moan as your nipple disappeared into Lando's mouth - being pulled on and sucked on harshly as he rolled your other between his fingers.

Your hands gripped onto his hair as he used his tongue to sooth the pain of the attack he just put on them, before repeating the sequence.

''Lando, please'' you begged, needing to feel more of him.

He pulled back, wiping his chin of his spit as he smirked at you. ''Please what?''

You stayed silent apart from a few pants escaping your mouth.

''What do you want, y/n?'' he asked, voice stern and turning you on even more.

You decided to tell him exactly what you want, catching him off guard.

''Your mouth on my cunt'' he said, smirking down at him.

Lando's hold on your thighs tightened as you heard him mutter a ''fucking hell'' while biting down on his lower lip.

You latched your hands back on to his hair and he spread your legs open wider, wasting no time in running his fingers through your slick folds.

''You're dripping baby, so wet'' he cooed, looking up at you.

''For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''All for you, Lan, please'' you pleaded again, trying to close your legs to rub them together though his strong hands held you in place.

Finally, he leaned forward. Running his tongue through your cunt as he spread your juices all over, making a right mess of your thighs and his face.

''Fuck, Lando, yes. Oh god'' you panted as he quickly founds your clit, sucking and pulling at it roughly wile at the same time sliding two fingers through your hole and starting a stead rhythm of thrusting them in and out.

Your eyes were shut, mouth letting out moans that were pornographic. You were so back.

Lando's tongue felt like heaven on your most sensitive parts, and it wasn't long until you felt the familiar warmth start to build up in your tummy.

''Lan, I'm close'' you managed to say between breaths, as he increased the pace of his fingers and bit down on your clit, and all it took was one look up from him to send you over the edge.

Your body shaking above him as you came all over his face, whimpers flying out of your mouth at the sensitivity.

''Fuck'' you heard him mutter to himself as he licked up all your cum before standing up, dribbling some of it into your mouth before kissing you.

Just that action alone already had heat pooling at your core again.

''Need you'' you whispered, tired, but eager for more.

''Gonna fucking ruin you baby'' he cooed, picking you up once again and carrying you to the bedroom.

As Lando placed you on the bed, you quickly got into your knees, already working on unzipping his trousers and pulling them down his legs.

He gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you finally rid him of his boxers, and this time it was your turn to lick your lips.

You sat there, gawking at his dick. Thick, hard, throbbing, pre cum already running down the sides from his slit.

Lando cleared his throat, smirking down at you. ''Like what you see?'' he asked, pumping himself a few times and spreading the pre cum all over.

You perched your shoulder, over-confidence oozing out you.

''Always'' you replied, before replacing his hands with yours.

You ran you hands up and down his girth a few times, brushing your thumb over his slit causing Lando to buck forward and let out a grunt.

''Hmm. Eager'' you silently mumbled, knowing he could hear you.

But before he could react, you leaned forward and licked his tip a few times, before sucking on it, hard and deep.

'Fuck me, have I missed your dirty little mouth'' he cooed, breathless already, each pull on your hair getting tighter as you finally took more and more of him in your mouth.

You already had tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you deep throated Lando, spit already making a mess of you as he praised your name, over and over again, letting out obscene moans.

Your hands fondled with his balls, pumping whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth, and with each thrust in and out of your mouth, you could feel his throbs getting painfully uncontrollable, as were the moans leaving his mouth.

''Shit, I'm gonna cum y/n, where?'' he asked, though he should have known better.

You didn't slow your movements one bit, instead you increased your pace. and within seconds you could feel Lando emptying his load down the back of your throat, warm and salty, and so thick, as his legs shook, trying to control his breathing.

You took a breath when you pulled back, licking your lips as you looked up at Lando.

A thin sheet of sweat already coating his body, and you couldn't resist licking a path up his torso, all the way to his neck and eventually to his lips.

''Gonna let me fuck you, baby?'' he asked, knowing y=what you answer would be.

Your brain of course short-circuited at his words. ''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say before he wash pushing you to lie down, his body hovering above yours.

You looked down to see Lando slide his hand up and down his shaft, spreading his cum and your spit to lube him up.

He slid his dick through your embarrassingly wet folds, while whispering filthy words into your ear -

''Missed this pretty pussy of yours'' ''Gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna see stars'' ''Gonna claim you as mine, again'' ''Gonna make you my whore, again, yeah?''

''Fuck Lando please'' you begged as he smirked at you.

Finally, he let his tip find your hole, and you pushed inside with one hard thrust, the both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected like this after so long.

Lando was bigger than average, and you always needed time to adjust to his size, so he stayed still for a few moments, allowing your body to accept the intrusion.

He looked into your eyes, sincere and full of love, silently asking if you were ok.

You nodded your head, though you were overcome with a mixture of feelings - relief, love, desperation?

As he pulled out again, he leaned lower down, his face hovering just above yours. You could feel his breath fan your face as he pulled out completely before slamming back into you, finally connecting your lips again as he started a quick pace of fucking in and out of you.

Your nails dug deep into his biceps as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

The noises leaving your mouth were lewd, equally as filthy as Lando's grunts.

''Fuck, y/n, how are you so tight right now baby?'' he cooed, moaning at how your walls were clenching around him, painfully so.

You were too fucked out to talk, so you let out a whimper and he chuckled to himself.

''Been a while'' you managed to mumble out, quickly letting another squeal escape your body.

''How long?'' he asked, his movements slowing.

You gave him a look. A look that told him just how long it been.

Then, his movements stopped completely. ''No'' he whispered.

''Yes'' you pressed, trying to move your own body though he held you down.

''What?'' you questioned, cheeks flushed.

''I was the last man to fuck you?''

''I mean, I've done stuff on my own'' you pressed.

''Fuck me'' he murmured before picking up his pace again, leaning back to place your legs on his shoulders.

The new position had Lando hitting even harder into your cunt, brushing against your G-spot over and over again.

And before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were gushing your juices all over his cock, your orgasm having your body shake underneath him while you let out yet more sounds of bliss from your mouth.

You could hear Lando talking to himself as you came. Something about how hot you were.

He pulled out of you and you watched as he let his spit drip down from his mouth down to your pussy, before he manhandled your body to flip over. Now you were on all fours, and with no warning he slammed himself back into you, clearly chasing his own orgasm now as you held onto the headboard for dear life.

''Fuck Lan, baby'' you cooed, already feeling sensitive but not getting enough of him at the same time.

''Harder, please, fuck me harder baby'' you begged, breath hitching when he snaked his hand around your body and settled on your throat, giving it a few light squeezes, while his other hand found your clit and pulled at your clit.

In no time your body was shuddering again. You came hard, and Lando looked down to see your cum leaking out of your body and coating his dick with each thrust.

''Fuck, gonna end me'' you heard him say behind you as you could barely keep your body up.

He pulled out of you again and flipped your body over, pulling you to the edge of the bed before pounded his cock into you again, holding your ankles together and squeezing them tight.

''Missed fucking you so bad baby, gonna let me cum in you?'' he asked. You could feel his movements get clumsier and sloppier with each thrust, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him release inside of you.

''Please Lando, cum in me, fuck'' you said between grunts, already feeling another orgasm about to flutter through your body.

Lando leaned down, taking your nipple into his mouth which sent your straight over the edge, moaning so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear you but you didn't care one bit.

And as soon as Lando felt you coat him again, it was enough to send him spiraling too. Emptying his thick milky load deep inside you cunt, all out shouting your name out between his own grunts.

As Lando slowed his movements, he slumped down onto your body as you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as possible.

Your bodies were a mess of sweat, cum, juices, spit, hot and sticky and both your breaths fanned each other,

Staying silent you played with the curls on Lando's head, drawing lazy patterns on his back as he peppered your neck with soft kisses.

You could feel him softening inside you, but neither of you made a motion to move.

Lando eventually lifted his head, letting his beautiful eyes roam your face and his fingers placed feather light touches on your cheeks.

''I love you so much Y/N, and I'll make sure you know that every single day'' he said, kissing you softly.

''I love you too Lan. Always''

[mariacallous]

Last year, the lead singer of The 1975, Matt Healy, managed to offend a whole lot of Gaelgoirí (Irish speakers) when he appeared to mock a fan’s name – Dervla – at a meet-and-greet.

Healy isn’t alone, though, when it comes to anglophone bafflement at Irish names. A recent study based on an analysis of Google searches revealed the words that British people have the most difficulty pronouncing. The names Aoife, Saoirse, Niamh and Siobhán occupy places in the top 10.

And it’s not exclusively a British problem: I always cringe watching US talkshows where the host quizzes their Irish guest (usually Saoirse Ronan) on the pronunciation of their and other Irish names.

I’ve heard every possible variation of my own name from non-Irish people. It’s not uncommon in Ireland; in secondary school, there were four Niamhs in my class. But I rarely come across an English person who is familiar with it, despite the proximity of our two countries.

In case you don’t know, it’s pronounced “Neev” or “Nee-av”, either is perfectly acceptable. The prefix Ní means “daughter of”. My surname is trickier, and has even tripped up a few Irish people; it can be translated as Herbert, and is pronounced “her-a-vard”.

When I was living in London, I quickly learned that saying Niamh at the counter in a coffee shop or over the phone to make a booking simply wouldn’t fly. This led to the invention of what I call my “Starbucks name”. Anything easily pronounceable with a simple spelling would do. Mia, Sophie and Rose were among my common aliases.

Speaking to others reveals a litany of similar experiences. Aoibhe Ní Shúilleabháin, a designer and teacher, spent two years at college in England having her name mispronounced and disrespected. (Her first name is pronounced “Ay-vah”.) More than one lecturer resorted to calling her “blondie”.

She tells me: “I was asked to say, ‘Three hundred and thirty three trees’” – a tongue-twister that does the rounds on TikTok – “more often than I was asked to repeat my name.” She recalls the lack of interest when she attempted to explain that Irish and English are different languages with different pronunciation rules.

Clearly, the sensitivities at play here are rooted in history: Ireland was colonised by the English and our national language was all but wiped out. A language revival began in earnest in the 19th century, but it’s never quite recovered. Ireland’s most recent census shows that about 40% of Ireland’s population can speak Irish. The English destroyed our language once before, so every little throwaway comment and scoff at our names hurts a little bit more – and ultimately becomes just tiresome. A handful of people even remark, “Oh! I didn’t know Ireland had its own language,” when I tell them about my name.

Writer Darach Ó Séaghdha is all too familiar with these difficulties. (The “rach” in Darach is pronounced like “Bach”, he says.)He hosted a podcast called Motherfoclóir, a podcast about the Irish language and culture, and whenever there were guests on with Irish names, “inevitably the episode would turn into group therapy”. There was one bad experience, he recalls, when he was told that his surname “looked like a wifi password”. But he decided to give his children Irish names, too. It’s a common trend, he says, “because parents with Irish names have been battle-hardened”.

Like the others I spoke to for this piece, writer and director Rioghnach (think “Ree-nock”)Ní Ghrioghair believes that a sense of superiority among English speakers is to blame for the constant mistreatment of Irish names. But she’s defiant. “We are going to scrutinise the British for any transgression regarding the pronunciation of our names,” and other things, she tells me, like British media claiming Irish actors as their own during awards seasons.

There is no easy crash-course I can give to you on the pronunciation of Irish names, but you can always try out “how to pronounce”-style websites (which themselves can be contested). But the simplest and most reliable solution is perhaps just to politely ask an Irish person – and listen attentively to what they say. I may have accepted that English people are very rarely going to get my name right on the first go, but I appreciate a well-intentioned effort. Just don’t laugh at it, please.

[starsinthesky5]

nothing's gonna hurt you baby II part 1 || joe burrow x reader

description: loving what you do doesn’t always mean it loves you back—it takes more than it gives sometimes

a/n: oh my GOD this is so long. it wasn’t supposed to be this long 😃😃😃😃. pls don’t hate me lol. this might have been the longest time i spent writing a fic too which is insane but i mean the word count speaks for itself HA. i really hope this isn’t total shit.  but, so sorry I kept you all waiting for so long!! i really hope this was worth the wait :) i took my time with this one!

also, huge huge thank you to @sofferaddict for inspiring a chunk of this fic! you’re ideas and requests were PERFECT and i hope I did them justice :)

warnings: angst, language, allusions to sex, smut at the end  (👨🚲 does this make sense???)

word count: 28.5 k (IM SO SORRY YALL-)

nothings gonna hurt you baby mini series master list (previous parts found here

——————————————————

Walking into Arrowhead Stadium always creates a complex mix of emotions for you; a rich blend of excitement, nervous energy, and uncertainty. It was a feeling that seemed to linger in the air for hours to come, creating an atmosphere charged with both anxiety and thrill. This mix was a given considering the matchup that was taking place, Joe Burrow vs Patrick Mahomes. It was two of the best in the league going against each other, a rivalry that had captivated the entire football community and had become one of the most talked-about spectacles in recent years. Whenever the Bengals went head-to-head with the Chiefs, the tension was electrifying yet frightening. But it wasn't about fear of losing—true fans knew the Bengals were the Chiefs' biggest rivals for the past 4 years and were their biggest threats—it was more about fearing how intense this game would be, but that also created excitement. The excitement came from knowing that this matchup promised to deliver an intense, high-energy, and nail-biting game that would leave everyone on the edge of their seats.

However, this time, you were feeling more excited than usual. Normally, you’d be on the verge of throwing up while walking through the concourse at Arrowhead, the bright red seats in the stands acting as a warning sign that forcefully caught your attention as if something urgent or dangerous was about to happen in the next few hours. This time, however, the bright red seats produced a feeling of comfort and nostalgia, like everything was back to normal while also reminding you of the memories you had here in years past (some sweeter than others).

You weren’t sure why, but playing the Chiefs made things feel like they were truly back to normal, despite the terrible loss against the Patriots the week before. Maybe it was because Joe always played his best against KC, so this game might just light that fire inside of him he so desperately needed last week. Or maybe it was because you knew how last week's loss put the entire team on notice so today's performance should be near perfect and push things back on track since they knew what narratives were being tossed around in the media right now. 

Whatever it was, the bottom line was that you felt relaxed and confident—a complete 360 from how you felt last week before the game. 

And you weren’t the only one who felt this way today. Joe did too. 

For real this time. 

Flashback to last night 

“I miss you,” he softly said over the phone and pouted as you moved your phone back into your view and flipped over to your stomach on your bed. 

“I just saw you a few hours ago,” you giggled. “I drove you to the airport,”. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said while leaning back against his hotel bed's headrest. “But I miss touching you and feeling you next to me. That thing we did in the car was nice but that only made me more…you know…after we were done. I just miss you, all of you,”. 

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, remembering in vivid detail what transpired in the car before he left to go board the plane. What started as an innocent goodbye kiss quickly turned into a heated exchange that led to Joe pulling you to the backseat of the Porsche and having his way with you. Even though it had been a few hours, you could still practically feel his hand gripping your thigh right now, feel his hot breath against your ear, hearing his raspy voice chant your name breathlessly over and over. That’s how dazed you still were. 

“Simmer down, Burrow. Gotta save that energy for tomorrow,” you smiled. 

“I can’t help it when my girlfriend is the most beautiful woman on the planet,” he winked while threading his fingers through his frosted tips. “You're not just beautiful, you’re magnetic. There's something about you that draws me in and doesn’t let me go, not just your looks but the way you carry yourself–confident, sexy, and undeniably captivating. Your eyes are like liquor and your body’s like gold. One thing makes me drunk to the point where I lose all sense and the other makes me greedy for more,”. 

“Joeee,” you shied away from the camera and smiled, then hid your face in the soft pillow that smelled exactly like him–crisp and clean, with a hint of his natural musk, and a little spicy–which only made you miss him even more and caused your smile to drop. 

Yeah, you missed him too. How could you not? You had gotten so used to having him around all the time during the past 10 months and all of a sudden he’s not and is spending the majority of his time at the facility, that wasn’t something you were getting used to just yet. You were beyond excited that he could now do what he loved which he had been missing for far too long, but you missed him. You missed those peaceful evenings that you two spent together, wrapped up in each other’s embrace, and lounging on the couch while watching a silly movie. You missed those mornings when you’d get to wake up to his adorable smile and gentle kisses. You missed those late nights you two spent out in the backyard, staring up at the stars and talking about life. Now that football had fully begun, these things would become sporadic and you couldn’t help but miss him every single second he was away from you, even if you had just seen him just a few hours ago like today. 

“What? It’s true,” he smirked, snapping you out of your trance. “I can’t stay away from you, you know that. I just wanna be around you all the time because of the way you make me feel,”.

He wanted to be around you, he really did. But this is what he’d have to deal with for the next 5 to 6 months and it killed him to not spend as much time with you as he wished. The past 10 months were a blessing in disguise for him; even though he was far away from what he loved to do, he was with the person he loved to love. That’s all that mattered.

But now he was close to what he loved to do, but a little further from the person he loved to love–and that sucked. 

“Oh really? How do I make you feel?” you asked while peeking up from the pillow with a cheeky grin.

“Hmm,” he hummed and raised his eyebrow as he pretended to think about how you made him feel. He really didn’t need to think about it, the way you made him feel was so obvious to the point where even everyone around him could see it. 

Just that afternoon, after Joe finally got out of the car and made his way to the plane, Ja’marr and Tee noticed that Joe looked happier, livelier, and more radiant than normal. At first, they couldn’t put their finger on what made him feel like that, especially before a game like this where he’d normally be dialed in and visibly numb. But once they saw the Porsche drive away and a girl wave goodbye in the window, they knew exactly what got him to this point. 

They dubbed this the ‘Y/N glow’, a playful name for the look Joe had whenever he was around them and was giving off specific energy, a specific energy that they noticed he had around you. So whenever Joe showed up around the guys with this glow–without you by his side–they knew something must have happened before with you to make him like this. They applauded your talents, nothing could make Joe this visibly happy, not even football. The way he remained like this even when you weren’t around was remarkable, it goes to show the depth of your love for him and the profound impact you had on him.

That’s why Joe wanted to be around you at all times, the way you made him feel was irreplicable and so good that he was addicted to it, to you. You brought a smile to his face by doing the most minimal things, making him feel a genuine happiness that football could never bring him. You always had a way of making him feel better, even when he was so far gone that he didn’t even know how to pull himself out of that hole on his own. He needed you, he always needed you. Last week was the perfect example; he was almost too deep into that hole of anxiety and self-doubt and pushed you away again, but you once again came right in with no limitations and pulled him back out. He was so extremely blessed to have you in his corner, and he knew that. 

“You make me feel like I’ve already won,” he grinned. 

“Won what?” you bit your lip and asked, flipping around onto your back.

“The best trophy anyone can possibly win,”. 

“Are you calling me a trophy girlfriend?” you furrowed your brows and asked. 

“Oh, no. God no,” he laughed. “I mean, I feel like I’ve already won with you. The greatest thing anyone can have in this world is genuine, unconditional love. I have that…with you,” he said, his tone becoming more serious. “Winning you and your love is the greatest trophy, the greatest achievement I could ever have,”. 

“Even greater than a Lombardi?” you asked, a tear forming in your eyes because of the sudden severity of his voice. The combination of his voice and the emotions you were already feeling from being apart from him created a strong mix. If he wasn't currently on Facetime with you, you would’ve found yourself seeking comfort in his pillow, probably crying your eyes out. “Fuck, I miss him,” you thought to yourself. 

“Greater than a Lombardi, MVP, and Hall of Fame induction,” he nodded. 

“Damn, you really love me,” you giggled as you subtly wiped the tear from your eye, trying to prevent him from seeing that you were a little emotional because you didn’t need him to get distracted. 

“Really is an understatement. Loving you is like being on fire because it’s intense, all-consuming, and totally wild. It burns inside me, making my heart and soul come alive. You're the flame I never want to put out, the passion I never want to lose. You're the light in my darkest hours and the warmth in my coldest nights,”.

“You’re so sweet and poetic,” you blushed, giving him a love-struck smile as you gazed deeply into his eyes through the screen.  

“And you’re so damn cute,” he smiled as he got up from his bed to grab his water bottle.

You let out a soft chuckle, your heart swelling because of how gentle, warming, and loving his words directed to you were, “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” you asked, getting up from your bed and walking over to the bathroom to fix your messy hair. 

“Surprisingly good,” he said as he moved around the room, sounds of shuffling and clanking filling the bathroom as you grabbed your brush. “Practice went well, as you know, and I feel pretty good about where I’m at. Physically and Mentally,” he nodded as he came back into the camera view. 

“That’s great, babe,” you smiled, feeling lighter after hearing him say that he feels good mentally. Last week was rough and you did not want to see a repeat of that ever again, especially after how long it took you to calm him down. 

“I was too hard on myself last week, can’t let that happen again or I think I’ll be borderline psychotic by week 18,” he joked. 

As you spoke, a warm, reassuring smile graced your face. "You're absolutely right. It's not healthy to load yourself with so much pressure. What's important is that you're giving it your all. I want you to know that I'm genuinely proud of you no matter what," you said gently, your hand reaching up to brush back a loose strand of hair.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled. “Kansas City’s always a good game regardless. Tomorrow should be good. Not an easy game, but good. Unlike last week, I feel relaxed and confident. Since I’ve gotten hit a few times, that’s put my mind at ease about the wrist a little bit and I feel good. I’m hoping tomorrow’s game will bring that fire back into the guys, and even me,” he said before unscrewing the cap of his water and taking a big sip. 

“I know it will,” you said while grabbing a hair clip. “At least we know Ja’marr will be fired up no matter what,” you giggled, referring to Ja’marrs long-lasting beef with the entirety of Kansas City. 

He let out a soft laugh, “Ohhh yeah. He’s amped up for sure,”. He closed his water before returning to the camera with a cheeky grin, “I am too, to be honest, but not only because we’re playing the Chiefs. I’m excited to have you here for the game,”.

“Well, I’m excited to be there for the game,” you winked as you grabbed the phone and went back to the bedroom. “My flight’s in like an hour or so and Emma should be meeting me at the airport so we can fly to Kansas City together,”.

“I’m glad she could fly in for the game and keep you company,” he said, talking about your childhood best friend. “I didn’t want you to be all alone since my parents can’t make it and thank god and my big ass contract for letting me get you guys a suite.. I don’t ever want you sitting in the stands because those fans are intense as hell,”. 

“Tell me about it,” you said, widening your eyes. “They’re so fucking loud on TV and in person, it’s like on a whole other level of rowdy fans. I thought Philly had the rowdiest NFL fans but KC might give them a run for their money,”.

“Mmm, I think Philly still wins in that department,” Joe shook his head and said. "But Kansas City definitely knows how to bring the energy, especially when they're up against the Bengals. It's like they're out there with an extra level of fire and even insanity when they're up against us,”. 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re Joe Cool and can effortlessly cool them off by doing what you do out there,” you grinned, making dramatic hand movements to emphasize your words. 

“Thanks, Y/N,” he chuckled, threading his fingers through his soft frosted tips. “I’m gonna let you go now so you can get to your flight on time. I know you get stressed out at the airport so you should probably leave now to give yourself some grace time,” he smiled. “I think some of the guys are going down to grab something to eat from the conference room so I’m gonna go with them,”. 

"You’re probably right,” you laughed and nodded as you reached down and pulled up your sleek, black carry-on suitcase with silver accents. The suspense of the game weighed heavily on your mind as you spoke, "I don't know if I'll get a chance to talk to you tomorrow before the game, so I just wanted to say that you got this, Joe. I know you do. Remember to keep calm, take a deep breath, and dial in on the field. Don't think about anything else–forget about the roar of the crowd, the flashing cameras of the media, the distracting questions from the reporters. Block it all out and do what you do best out there. It's just you and the football,". 

"I love you so much," Joe said as if he was lost in some trance, his eyes filled with warmth and sincerity, while giving you a tight-lipped smile. You could see the genuine affection in his eyes as he spoke those words. He valued your words, advice, and honesty more than anything else. 

"I love you too," you said, unable to contain your joy as a wide grin spread across your face. Your cheeks flushed with a rosy blush, responding to the intense gaze he fixed on you. His eyes spoke volumes, showing an overwhelming amount of love and endearing infatuation that made your heart flutter.

End of flashback 

Hearing him say that he felt good about today's game, with a confident smile on his face and a sense of determination in his voice, was all you needed to fully relax and feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. You noticed the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and focus, and you couldn't help but feel a wave of positive energy. You were genuinely excited about the game this time, it was a completely different feeling than you had before last week's game when doubt and nerves had overshadowed your usual enthusiasm.

“Did I mention how amazing you look right now, Mrs. Burrow?” Emma teased as she snapped you out of your trance. You blinked your eyes a few times and realized you were now standing in your suite for the evening which was facing the Bengals sideline, not knowing when and how you even ended up in there. You looked down and noticed you were holding a glass, seemingly filled with a Vodka Cranberry Cocktail, not even knowing how this drink ended up in your hold. “Damn, he has me in a trance even when he’s not with me,” you thought to yourself as you looked back at Emma. 

“Em…,” you said to her while giving her a look.

“What? I’m just stating the facts, Y/N. I know that ring is coming sooner rather than later,” she winked. “Joe is so down bad obsessed with you, I really don’t think he can go another year without officially officially marking his territory with a big, beautiful diamond ring,”. 

"...Yeah," you giggled and nodded a few seconds later, feeling a little shy all of a sudden at the mention of how obsessed he was with you. The thought of marrying Joe filled your mind with a sense of euphoria and excitement, it was a beautiful dream you craved to turn into reality. The past 5 years with him were nothing short of a fairytale, and you two ruled the kingdom you had built together hand-in-hand with no intention of ever letting go. From the moment you first saw each other, you knew that this relationship would be different; and it was. It was different because you two had a connection that neither of you had ever had with anyone before. A kind of connection that only needed one small spark to fully catch on fire. And that fire burned no matter the circumstance: through the rain, the wind, and anything that threatened to blow it out. 

A connection that felt like it was written in the stars–something cosmic, fated, inescapable. Once those stars aligned, everything clicked into place your lives intertwined in a way that felt as natural as breathing. It wasn’t forced and it certainly wasn’t rushed; it was like you were both simply waiting for the universe to do its thing, to bring you together at the right moment. As time went on, you realized just how deeply ingrained that bond was. It wasn’t just the shared laughs, the stolen kisses, or even the way you could read each other without saying a word. It was the way you stood by each other through the storms, the way you’d hold each other’s hands when the weight of the world was too much to carry alone.

Joe had reassured you of his intent to marry you multiple times which only intensified the significance of Emma's words and made butterflies flutter in your belly. Joe knew you were his forever from the second he saw you, it was only a matter of time before he made it clear to everyone. You twirled a strand of your hair around your finger, feeling a warm blush creeping up your cheeks as you tried to hide your smile. “But he’s focused on ball right now and he knows I don’t care when it happens,”. 

“We’ll see,” Emma grinned, her tone of voice making you suspicious but you decided to let it go knowing this wasn’t the time to pick her brain about this subject. “But seriously, you look hot as hell right now. Best dressed WAG in the league by a long shot and man is Joe going to die when he sees this look. Taylor ain’t got nothing on you today,”.

"Hey," you snapped as your jaw fell, unable to hide your surprise. "No disrespect to Taylor. We love her, and I know she's on the enemy’s side tonight, but listen, her music has been with us through thick and thin, every breakup, situationship, and boyfriend. Without her, I don’t think I would’ve been able to get over James. Not to mention, I think she subconsciously wrote Call it what you want and King of my heart about me and Joe,".

“You’re right, you’re sooo right,” Emma said as she nodded. “But like, you look great,” she smiled as she gestured to your outfit. 

You were wearing a skin-tight, cropped, custom-made, orange Burrow jersey that fit like a baby tee. It was a unique piece, specially made to your measurements and featuring Joe’s name and number. Along with the jersey, you wore your trademark ‘9’ necklace, adding a personal touch to the outfit. The denim mini-skirt complemented the jersey top perfectly, adding a casual yet stylish element to your look. The custom white knee-high boots were a standout feature, with a beautifully embroidered ‘9’ on the bottom by your ankle, fashionably showcasing your team spirit. To top it off, you had a vintage Bengals hat on, completing the outfit with a touch of retro charm. Truth be told, you looked absolutely stunning and it was clear who you were specifically supporting tonight.

“I guess I do,” you smiled, taking a sip of the cocktail that was in your hand. 

You spent the rest of the time watching the pre-game warmups, observing how quickly fans flooded the stadium, and listening to how loud it was getting even though the game hadn’t even started yet. There were hardly any Bengals fans around your suite, honestly, all you saw was a sea of red around the stadium–not really surprising since not everyone wants to make a trip to Kansas City during week 2, especially after that loss last week. 

“Holy Red Kingdom,” Emma said in surprise, raising her eyebrows as she looked down and saw a crowd of Chiefs fans right in front of your suite. 

“Yeah,” you nodded as you looked down with her, your eyes scanning the crowd and only seeing ‘15’s and ‘87’s along with bright red shirts, hats, and jerseys. As you looked around the crowd and glanced down to the right, searching for any signs of orange, you heard loud, obnoxious shouting from below. At first, you thought it was just rowdy fans getting excited for the game about to start in a few minutes. But then the words that followed made you feel uneasy, and you quickly looked in that direction.

“Lookie, Lookie. Looks like we got a little Burrow fan up there,” one of the men said pointing up at you. 

“Really?” another man cackled, looking right up at you, his face contorting to a look of surprise once he saw you. “Oh shit!”. 

“No fucking way,” another man howled. “I didn’t think that joke of a quarterback still had any fans around. Especially after that embarrassing loss last week against the Patriots out of all teams. Like how do you play that bad against the fucking Patriots during Week 1? And wasn’t he all ‘I feel as good as I’ve ever felt in my entire career’ like two weeks ago? It sure as hell didn’t look like it last Sunday,” he laughed. “He was probably lying to save his ass,”. 

“That injury clearly fucked him up for good, there’s no coming back from that. He might as well just call it quits now before he gets hurt again and ends up stuck in the hospital bed, I’ve never seen a more injury-prone quarterback since Andrew Luck, Burrow should stop chasing that trophy and sit back down and think about his health,” he laughed, making a mockery out of Joe’s health and stamina. 

“I mean, it’s not like he had much going for him before the injury anyway. He came into the league as this hotshot, sparkly quarterback but has nothing to show for the hype that’s around him except for an embarrassing Super Bowl loss. Not to mention that he was overpaid by a lot I mean, with that contract you’d think he’d won two Lombardi’s back to back,” the other man laughed. “Bitch thinks he’s Pat Mahomes,” the man shook his head and hollered, earning loud laughs and words of agreement from the other men. 

“Hey!” one of the other men shouted up at you. “You’re supporting the wrong guy, sweet cheeks,” he slurred as he pointed back to the field. “A pretty lady like you needs to show up for a real man like Mahomes or Kelce. Hell, we’re probably better than that pussy, Burrow,” he snarled, the hungry look in his eyes making you feel incredibly uneasy.

“Oooooo,” another man teased. “She does look like she’d look hot in KC red. Not to mention how bangin’ her body is and that ugly orange isn’t doing her tits any justice,”.

Emma's eyes widened in shock as she whispered, "Oh my god," and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. The lewd comments from the drunk men made you both furious and highly uncomfortable, causing your shoulders to tense up with nervousness.

“Yeahhh,” the other man shouted, “Come sit down here with us, sweetheart. We can help you take that ugly ass Burrow shirt off and give you one of our shirts to wear…but that’s if you’re lucky,” he winks, earning high-fives from the other men for insinuating something like that. 

He was so obviously drunk. They were all drunk. 

Your heart raced in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as a wave of anxiety washed over you, leaving you paralyzed with hesitation. Your mind raced, desperately searching for the right words or actions in this strange situation. This was uncharted territory for you, something you had never expected having to confront so you had no idea what to say or do. 

“He’s a failure!”. “Complete waste of talent right there!”. “He can’t even throw like he used to!”. “Career went down the toilet as soon as he was drafted to Shittcinati!”. “He’s one hit away from being done for good!”. 

The insults echoed in your mind, each word leaving a harsh mark and adding to the weight on your shoulders you thought you got rid of over the past week. As the crowd quieted for the kickoff, the echoes of their insults lingered. During the chaos, you could only think about Joe, feeling his absence strongly. The hurtful words triggered familiar feelings of anxiety and worry that you had worked hard to overcome before stepping into the stadium and you didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N?” Emma asked as she grabbed your trembling hand. “Are you alright?” she asked as she gave it a gentle squeeze. 

“Y- yeah,” you lied as you felt your eyes well with tears. “I’m fine. It was just a bunch of drunk idiots, n- nothing to worry about,” you said to her while giving her a fake, rehearsed smile as you felt that pit in your stomach you got last week come back. 

“Are you sure? That was fucking disgusting and so uncalled for, I’m sure we can talk to someone and-,”.

“No.” you interrupted her and said, your voice heavy and almost scared. “I really don’t want to make a scene here and I don’t even think those guys knew I’m Joe’s girlfriend. I really don’t want to be the subject of those annoying headlines over this and make things even more distracting for Joe,” you swallowed. 

“But I-,”.

“Emma, please,” you pleaded as you looked into her eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied again, giving her false reassurance by pulling her in for a hug.

You were not fine. Joe. You needed Joe. The one person who could calm you down, get you to relax, the person who would be able to deal with this and shield you from the disgusting comments. “I need you right now,” you thought to yourself as you felt your throat tighten and tears threaten to spill out. You had never experienced anything like this before and although it was just a group of idiotic men that didn’t know you or Joe enough to be saying all of that, it still felt like a punch straight to the gut because the things they were saying were along the same lines of what Joe was saying to you last week, only they were saying it in a harsher more hateful manner. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to tell Joe about this, knowing that it would just become another distraction for him. 

“This is going to be a long game,” you thought to yourself after pulling away from the hug sitting back down in your seat, feeling the urge to shrink away and hide. The pit in your stomach mixed with your growing anxiety left a bitter taste in your mouth, making you feel exactly how you did last week during the game. 

It felt as if the protective bubble shielding you from the raging storm outside had burst, leaving you once again in the middle of the storm, feeling scared, anxious, and on the verge of being swept away by your thoughts.

“Fuck,” you thought to yourself. “I hope this feeling goes away,”. 

A few hours later - End of the Game

It definitely did not go away.

The comments from the drunk fans set the tone for you for the rest of the game. It seemed like everything went downhill from there–for you and for the team. Some exciting, explosive moments had you on your feet but those were tinted by the other, more unpleasant things that happened. 

You found yourself once again on the edge of your seat the entire game, but not because of the thrill or because you had adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was for the exact same reason as last week–you were scared, anxious, and upset. The game was neck and neck, a pure nail-biter as usual, and the Bengals put up one hell of a fight and honestly should have won the game, but they once again couldn’t do it.

They played good and way better than last week, but just not good enough. 

And then it came to Joe. The one person that had been on your mind since the game began. 

Flashback

"Oh my god!" you yelled as you shot up from your chair, your heart palpitating in your chest as you saw Joe go in for the QB sneak. You could see the determination in his eyes as he charged forward, only to get his shoulder rammed into by a defender. In that split second, you knew it was going to be a hard hit. Joe was brought straight to the ground, his helmet knocked off, and he was immediately crushed by several large opposing players. The impact echoed through the stadium as you breathed, praying he’d get up.

“Holy Shit,” Emma gasped next to you, her hand over her mouth. “I hope he’s okay, that looks like it fucking hurt,”. 

“Joe, please be okay,” you whispered to yourself, your entire body feeling as if it was just thrown into a familiar brick wall. Immediately, your mind wandered over to the moments he had gotten injured in the past, and what just happened in that play was very similar to what’s happened before. The feeling you got in your body just now was very similar to how you felt in those moments. It was as if you were thrown into the abyss, had your heart torn from your chest, or stabbed in the stomach. 

“Not again. I can’t do that again. He can’t do that again,” you thought to yourself as you felt your eyes pool with tears. “His fucking helmet flew off, Emma,” you said as you turned to her, your voice trembling and breaths getting shorter. “And…and his shoulder. The way he went down…,”.

“I know, I know,” she said as she rubbed your back, “But look, he’s getting up and he looks fine”. 

You looked back down to the field, watching as Joe grabbed his helmet and stood up with an emotionless look on his face. As you watched him from a distance, you noticed that there was no hint of a limp in his stride, no flexing of his wrist, and no visible signs of shoulder pain. It seemed like he was moving with relaxation and confidence, showing no physical pain as he prepared to rejoin the game.

“See? It’s okay. He’s okay,” she soothed as she swayed you back and forth for comfort. 

“Fuck,” you whispered as you slowly nodded, taking deep breaths to even out your heart rate, “He’s okay…He’s fine…,”. 

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Emma reassured. “Don’t worry so much. Joe’s a tough guy, a play like this isn’t going to hurt him. Especially now since he’s so so much stronger and tougher, ”. 

“You’re right,” you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down by continuing to take deep breaths and using your right hand to gently rub your left hand (the hand which had the veins that led straight to your heart)—a gesture that always calmed you down that Joe discovered. You rubbing your hand didn’t have the same effect as when Joe did it, but it was enough for now. 

“I just- they can’t do that again. He could’ve gotten really hurt,” you mumbled.

Even though he looked calm and normal, you started to feel more and more uneasy. At the same time, you began to taste something bitter in your mouth, and it got stronger with every breath.

End of Flashback

The trauma of witnessing his previous injuries had left you with a bit of PTSD. As a result, every time he fell or moved differently, you experienced intense anxiety and fear, believing that something may be seriously wrong. 

You had hoped that moment was the only time this evening you’d feel like this, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The QB sneak was just one example from this evening.

Flashback 

“Yeah, and I thought about bringing Ryland but he had to go into New York this weekend with his brother for the Cage The Elephant concert,” Emma said as she took a sip of her cocktail. You two were talking about needing to plan a double date with the four of you (you, Joe, Emma, and her Boyfriend). She also mentioned that she wanted to bring him to the game this evening but he already had tickets for the concert with his brother and wished he could have joined you all. 

“Sooo, I take it you two are getting serious,” you giggled, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“What makes you say that?” she asked, taking another sip.

“We never do double dates, Em. Like ever,” you smiled. “Your exes were douches so you never brought them around Joe and me on purpose as a coupley thing but you are with Ryland so something has to be different,”.

“I could say the same thing about you, Mrs. Burrow, Mrs. Quarterback, Mrs. 9, Mrs. Cincinnati, Mrs. Shiesty,” she teased with a silly smile. “You never brought a boyfriend around me like that for the same reason and here we are, sitting in a suite your lover rented for you, watching him play football, while you’re completely decked out in his name and number.  You and Joe are like a package deal. Inseparable, attached at the hip, and so obsessed with one another. You are locked the fuckkkk in and I could not be more happier for you,”. 

“Emmmaaaaa,” you whined, hiding your face out of shyness. 

“I can just hear those wedding bells, Y/N,” she giggled, pulling your hands down. “Here comes the bride,” she sing-songed.

“Rigggghtttt,” you nodded, laughing along with her and glancing back to the field to see if the break was over and to see where your boyfriend was.

You felt your heart drop and a lump forming in your throat as your eyes locked onto Joe, who was standing crouched down on the field. "Oh my god," you choked, the words barely escaping your lips as you shot up from your chair, feeling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You walked with shaky steps straight to the edge of the suite window, your mind racing with a million thoughts at once.

You saw Joe standing on the field, his back to you, and crouched down; almost as if he was holding his wrist. Your mind quickly flashed back to November 16th, M&T Bank Stadium, the night he got hurt and was in this exact position. “Oh my god,” you said again, this time more panic evident in your voice. 

“What’s wrong?” Emma asked as she looked at you.

“Joe…he looks like he’s holding his wrist?” you mumbled as you moved to the side to see if you could get a better look. “Emma, I think something’s wrong,” you said, feeling a wave of nausea come over you. 

Emma quickly got up from her seat and walked over next to you, taking a look at what you were talking about. “Are you sure?” she asked with a concerned look. 

“It- it looks like it…oh my god,” you said as you felt your throat tighten, then covered your face with your eyes. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening again. Not now,” you sniffled, trying to hold back tears.

Emma continued to look down at Joe with you, her eyes twinkling with amusement and her smile coming back once she got a better view of him. "Ohhhh, Y/N," she laughed next to you, her pleasant voice filling the air. She placed her arm around your shoulder, the warmth of her touch comforting and familiar, and gave you a gentle squeeze.

“What?” you asked her, peeking through your hands.

“Look down,” she said, pointing back down to Joe. 

You moved your hands down and slowly turned to your head to look at him and what you saw was completely unexpected. 

Joe was tying his shoes. 

That’s why he was crouched down. 

"He was... he was tying his shoes?" you whispered, feeling your heart start up again and a wave of relief come over you, which swept away the nausea. The sight of him crouched down, looping the laces and tying them into neat bows, reassured you that everything was okay. You have never been happier to see him tying his shoes, doing such a simple and ordinary task. 

“Looks like it,” she laughed, then looked back at you and saw your face relax. “You okay?”.

“I think so,” you breathed out, watching him stand back up and walk around like nothing happened. “I just got scared for a second. That position seemed a little too familiar for my liking,” you nervously laughed. 

“I get it. This stuff has to be stressful for you because of the wrist. It’s normal to get a bit of PTSD,” she said.

“I think I’ll be dead by Week 18 if I keep freaking out over these things,” you joked, placing your hand over your heart. 

Every time he did something different, like flexing his wrist or crouching down weirdly, rubbing a certain part of his body, or sporting a look of discomfort—you were scared shitless. The thought of him getting injured again and having to go through all the pain and suffering was your biggest nightmare. 

End of Flashback 

Then, it was Ja’marr’s situation on the field, a situation that had quickly escalated as everyone was running on pure adrenaline and anger. 

Even Joe, who usually keeps his calm in these scenarios. 

Flashback

“Ja’marr looks pissed, holy shit,” you said as you looked down onto the field and saw him visibly angry at the Refs. 

“Look at Joe trying to swoop in and save his bestie,” Emma laughed as she pointed towards Joe who was running to Ja’marr, then grabbing him to move him away from the Ref. 

“That’s Joe, all right,” you smiled, “Always being Switzerland,”. 

You watched as the situation on the field seemingly fizzled out after that, but then also watched as things quickly heated up again and Ja’marr was going right back in. You leaned forward in your seat, “What the fuck is even happening? Why is he so livid?” you said. 

“I think it might have been related to the play before but I think the fact that the Ref isn’t talking to him is making it worse,” Emma nodded.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, your eyes widening as you watched Joe come back into the situation, this time his entire body language showing that he was not happy. You watched as he pulled Ja’marr away from the Ref and then tried to speak with the Ref himself, only to be interrupted by Ja’marr again.

“Oh my-,” you began to say before your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of Joe roughly pushing Ja’marr away from him. 

"Holy fuck," Emma said in surprise, her eyes widening as she watched the intense scene unfold on the field. Both of you stood there, observing Joe extending an arm to try to keep Ja'marr away, but it was clear that his efforts weren’t working. Joe had to keep pushing Ja'marr back while also giving him a piece of his mind. "Y/N, I've never seen Joe that aggressive before on the field," she pointed out, her voice laced with concern as she continued to watch the tense exchange between the two players.

“Me either. He always keeps his cool, so something bad must have happened for him to get like this,” you agreed, the sight of Joe getting heated on the field both concerning and slightly enticing for you. 

“I didn’t know Joe got rough like that,” Emma laughed, trying to lighten the vibes by teasing you, and oh was it working.

“Very funny, Em,” you said, sending her an intense look and trying to hide your smile even though you were laughing internally at what she was implying. 

“What? I mean, if he’s like that out there I can’t even imagine how he’s like in-,” she started to say before you interrupted her. 

“Emma!” you laughed, your entire body shaking from your reaction. “He’d kill me if he knew we were talking about this,”.

“So that means what I’m saying is true,” she giggled while raising her eyebrow. 

You tried to hide your smile by gently pressing your lips together, but the corners of your mouth gave you away, turning up in a slight but unmistakable grin. Your cheeks, with a rosy, playful blush, gave off warmth, revealing everything without you needing to say a word.

“Daaaaamn, Joe,” she smiled. “Well at least now I know that you have a good sex life,” she winked. 

“Good? It’s fucking phenomenal,” you nonchalantly mumbled which earned a gasp from Emma. 

“Ahhh,” she shrieked, breaking out into a fit of laughter with you. 

Although you were taking a lighthearted approach to the situation, whatever happened on the field didn’t sit well with you. You weren’t sure what was going on with Ja’marr and although you were worried about him, your attention was mostly on Joe. His visible agitation, a stark contrast to his usual composed presence on the field, was concerning. He always kept his cool whenever things went sideways out there because he didn’t like getting worked up. After all, that diverted his focus, but this time it seemed like he lost all of his ability to keep calm–which only meant one thing. 

It was getting to him. This game was getting to him. 

End of Flashback 

As the game went on, he only got more and more frustrated. You could tell he wasn’t happy with his performance and the team’s performance by his body language and the grim yet frustrated look on his face. 

His unhappiness was justified, this game was brutal and although the Bengals had an answer for every play the Chiefs made, there were too many careless mistakes that ended up costing them the game. One thing in particular that you knew Joe would repeatedly think about was his fumble in the 4th quarter which the Chiefs capitalized on and got a free 6 points from. You knew he’d obsess over that play because it was his mistake that cost them the ball and why they got those points. 

If that fumble return didn’t happen, they had a good chance of winning the game, and you knew that thought would haunt Joe for the rest of the night. 

You felt awful about the entire thing, how the team struggled against them, how Joe struggled against them, how their ignorant mistakes that should’ve been cleared up were costing them this important game. 

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did. 

Flashback to the last few seconds of the game 

“I just…I can’t believe we lost,” you said as you blankly stared out onto the field, watching as the clock painfully ticked down. “We were so close…he was so close, I..,” you started to get choked up and said, clutching your ‘9’ necklace in the process. “And he looks so..he looks so sad and disappointed,”. 

Joe.

That is literally all you could think about right now. Not the team, not the fans, not the careless mistakes, not the fact that you lost the game by 1 point and a few bullshit referee calls. 

Just Joe. 

“I know, Y/N. I know,” Emma said as she placed a comforting arm around your shoulder and let you lay your head on her shoulder. 

“And Joe’s probably already beating himself up for this and-,” you began to say before you were interrupted by loud, obnoxious yelling again. 

“How does it feel, girls?” the fan laughed as the same group of men from earlier looked up at you and Emma.

“I swear to fucking god,” Emma whispered before speaking up, “Can you all just shut the fuck up for once in your goddamn lives? Leave her alone you miserable freaks,”. 

“Oooo, someone’s getting defensive,” the other drunk laughed. 

“They seem so sad, awww,” the other man mocked in a child-like voice. “That’s what happens when you support the wrong fucking guy, sweetheart,”.

“He was a shitty quarterback, still is a shitty quarterback, and will forever be a shitty quarterback. You got the short end of the stick, babe,” the other man laughed while raising his cup in the air. “It ain’t too late to switch teams…or switch shirts,” he winked.

“Wait a second,” one of the men said while looking down at his phone. “Holy fuck, look at this y’all,” he said to the other men as he turned his phone around.

“That girl up there is Burrow’s girlfriend. Just came up on my feed,” he said as he glanced up at you and showed you the picture of you and Joe from the sidelines at the last home game which made it onto some sports tabloid. 

“No freaking way!” one of the men obnoxiously laughed. “This bitch is his fucking girlfriend? That’s even more embarrassing for her. Supports a shitty ass team with a lackluster quarterback and is dating him? Man, your standards must be low as fuck,”. 

You held your tongue, clenching your fists to stop yourself from defending Joe and yourself. You didn't want to create a scene, but the want to speak up was strong. Your eyes burned with built-up tears and you knew that if you let them fall, you wouldn't be able to stop. “Please stop,” you thought to yourself, your entire body telling you that you needed to be in Joe’s arms. His warmth, his touch, and his words were what you needed right now. 

"Damn, they’ve been together since his days down in Louisiana. That’s like what? 5 years? Damn, he didn't even bother to put a ring on her finger either. So not only is he a bad football player, but he's also proving to be an even worse boyfriend," one man chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to put a ring on her finger. He probably knows she’s a gold digger and is only with him for the money and fame. I mean, look at her? She looks like a slut and is practically asking for all eyes to be on her. Attention whore at it’s finest,” he cackled. 

“Or maybe it’s because Burrow wants to keep his options open. He has to be getting models thrown at him left and right, ain’t no way he hasn’t swooped in on one while being with her. He’s definitely keeping his options open until a hot enough chick comes around and he can ditch this girl. And if one doesn’t, he’ll settle for her and have his homemaker around,” one man laughed. 

“Please…stop,” you whispered, your bottom lip trembling from the anxiety that was spreading through your body. 

“Y/N…let’s just go,” Emma whispered in your ear as she noticed the pain in your eyes. 

“Look at her face, I mean she looks fucking embarrassing,” the man snarled, pointing up at you. “You got something to say or are you as incompetent as your little boyfriend?”. 

“Burrow needs to put that trash to the side and date someone more on his level,” another man howled. “If football doesn’t work for him—which it clearly isn’t because he succckkkkssss,” he yelled. “Fucking a supermodel will give him a lengthy life in the public eye at least,”. 

"Sorry babe, this is what happens when you come into the Reedddddd Kingdommm," the other man said with a sly smile, his voice laced with a hint of mischief as he sang that horrid, cheesy, ear-bleed-inducing tune, his words echoing through your mind along with everything else that was said. 

“Don’t say sorry to her? She knew what she walked into when she showed up in that god-awful number, color, and name,” another man laughed, holding his plastic cup of beer in the air.

You thought he was just raising his cup, but you were so wrong. “Go back to Shittcinnati, slut!” he yelled, throwing his cup at the shield of your suite. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Emma yelled as she quickly pulled you back from the window, both of you watching the cup hit the window and the beer splash everywhere against the shield.

"W- what," you stammered, your voice trembling with fear and confusion. You felt your throat tighten again as panic set in, and your stomach churned with unease. The room seemed to spin as you struggled to make sense of the overwhelming emotions washing over you.

“Hell no, we’re leaving now. This is fucking disgusting,” Emma said as she left your side, grabbed your things, and then led you out of the suite. You were so in shock that it felt like your mind had detached from your body and as if you were watching everything happen from a distance, unable to fully process what was going on.

End of flashback 

You were entirely zoned out for at least 10 minutes as Emma led you down the narrow, dimly lit hallway to the locker room area to see Joe.  It was like you were trapped in a dark, windowless room, the air filled with the smell of sweaty players and damp towels. You didn't know where to go, what to do, or what to say. You felt lost, alone, and out of it, as if the world around you had faded. "What the hell just happened?" you asked yourself, getting lost in the endless abyss that was your thoughts to the point where you barely heard Emma tell you she was going to the bathroom. Your brain wasn’t comprehending what had just happened, but your heart was and it hurt. Their comments hurt, the look in their eyes hurt, and you were hurt. 

“Y/N?” a heavy yet gentle voice said which snapped you back to the present. You turned your head and saw Joe walking towards you, your face quickly turning to a livelier, happier expression to hide your true feelings, he didn’t need to see you like this; not now. His feelings were what you needed to focus on, and given the kind of loss they just had, you knew he had a lot of feelings; yours weren’t as important. 

He pulled you into his chest, tucking your head in his neck and he wrapped his arms around you, “I missed you so much,” he smiled, his strained voice and body telling you how tense he was even if he tried to hide it with his smile.

"I missed you too," you mumbled against him, the rise and fall of his breathing providing a sense of comfort as you felt yourself melt away in the safe bubble that his presence always provided you. The warmth of his embrace surrounded you, and for a moment, everything else faded into the background. 

He let go of your waist and moved his hand up to your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. His warm lips against yours felt like a breath of fresh air, a breath of fresh air he had no idea you desperately needed. Joe immediately sensed the tension in your body as he kissed you. Normally, you melted into him, but this time your posture was rigid, your shoulders stiff, and your movements hesitant. His lips brushed against yours, but he could feel how dry and cracked they were, a telltale sign you’d been anxiously biting at them for hours. Joe knew this habit all too well; it was something you did when you were nervous, anxious, or lost in thought. 

After lingering for a few seconds, he gently pulled back, his brows furrowed with concern. His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it hard to look away. He could see past the surface–the forced calm and the faint smile. There, in the depth of your eyes, he found what you were trying so hard to hide. The pain, the weight of anxiety, the shadows of doubt–he saw it all.

"Something's wrong," he said quietly but firmly, his voice low. He didn’t look away, holding the gaze as if he dared you to deny what he already knew. His hand gently cupped your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he waited for you to let him in.

“N- nothing’s wrong,” you said as you gave him a faint smile, your smile and voice not convincing enough. 

“Y/N, I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, remember?” he smiled as he echoed what you said to him last week, “Are you okay?” he asked as he tucked your soft hair behind your ear. 

You stayed quiet for a few seconds, not wanting to burden him with your emotions since you knew he already had enough to deal with on his own. But you knew you had to tell him because you couldn’t deal with this on your own. You needed him.  

“No,” you replied with full honesty, tears pooling in your eyes as you thought about everything that happened again. You stared deeply into his tired blue eyes, noticing that there was something he was hiding from you too. “Are you okay?” you asked him, praying he didn’t brush you off like he did last week. 

“No,” he quickly replied with the same honesty you gave him, his face dropping once he admitted that he wasn’t okay, and you knew exactly why. “But we can talk about that back at home,” he added, a wave of relief washing over you once you heard him say that because that implied he wasn’t going to shut you out again.

“O- okay,” you nodded as you felt him move his hand down to yours, then pull you over to a more secluded area away from the staff, players, and anyone that would overhear anything that was meant to be private. He saw the look in your eyes and that set off a siren in his head, something had happened and you were hiding it from him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Joe asked again softly as he turned to face you, his voice laced with concern. His hand found yours, his fingers gently rubbing circles on the back of your left hand in an absentminded but soothing gesture that he knew would calm you down. “You look shaken up,” he continued, his brow furrowing as his eyes scanned your face for any clue you might give him. “Did something happen that you’re not telling me about?” His voice was gentle, but the worry in his tone was obvious. His thumb traced slow, rhythmic patterns across your knuckles, a silent reassurance that he was here and that he wouldn’t let go until you told him what was weighing on you.

You took a deep breath before looking into his eyes again, seeing that it was just Joe. You could talk to him; you could talk to him about anything because he made it very clear to you that he was always going to be there for you no matter what. He was your safety net, you could fall back and he would catch you every time. 

“Something…something happened up at the suite,” you began to say, Joe’s eyes instantly softening because he knew what you were about to say. His biggest concern, his biggest fear when it came to you and football had come to life. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself before beginning to remember everything. The words came out slowly at first, but once you started, it felt like a dam had burst. You told Joe everything–their horrible comments, their slurred insults, the throwing of the drink (which really pissed Joe off), and the crude remarks they’d made about you both. Every vile comment they tossed around about you, about your relationship, seemed to sting more as you repeated them. 

Joe stood silently, his face a mixture of pain and anger, but his hand never left yours. As you spoke, you could feel the tremble in your voice, the knot tightening in your chest as you tried to fight back your tears. It was clear that repeating everything was breaking something inside you. You paused for a moment, your voice cracking as you glanced up at him and tried to read his reaction.

It broke Joe’s heart to see you like this, struggling to hold yourself together. His chest tightened as he watched you fight back tears, trying to stay strong while reliving something that clearly hurt you so deeply. Each word you spoke felt like another blow, not just to him, but to you, and it killed him that he hadn’t been there to protect you from it.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry,” he softly said as he pulled you into his arms, your tears threatening to come out from this and the way he rubbed gentle circles around your back. “I’m so-,” he started to say before he got choked up. “I’m so fucking sorry,” he finished. 

“It’s okay, Joe,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you hid your face in his chest. 

“No, it’s not,” he said, his voice laced with anger now that he was realizing what happened. 

The fans. The fans of the sport he plays. They hurt the most important, valuable, and special thing in this world. They hurt you.

Joe could feel the anger boiling under his skin as he fought back the urge to go find these assholes and teach them a few things about what happened when they messed with the love of his life. He was also considering going out and finding the head of security or someone who handled these things and ripping one to them, but once he felt how you were shaking in his arms, he let those thoughts go. He knew you needed him more than you needed to see those assholes’ heads on a platter which is why he kept his anger inside and instead focused on comforting you. 

“I’m gonna see if I can get out of this conference so we can just go home,” Joe said after he pressed a comforting kiss to your head. 

“N- No,” you said as you moved your head from his chest. “I don’t want you to skip out on it because of me,”. 

“But baby-,”.

“Joe, no. Please,” you pleaded as you cupped his cheeks and ran your thumbs along his soft skin. “I’m going to be fine, I promise. You still have a job to do and I don’t want to take you away from that,” you said as you gave him a small smile.

His heart broke as he saw your bloodshot eyes, knowing he was the reason you were in this situation. He felt so guilty, realizing that if it weren’t for his presence in your life those men wouldn’t have said such awful things to you. 

What hurt him even more was knowing he couldn’t be there for you the way you truly needed. He could listen, but it wasn’t enough. He felt helpless, wanting to fix everything but knowing all he could do right now was hold your hand while you tried not to fall apart.

“Are you sure? I don’t fucking care about standing in front of a bunch of reporters who are going to ask me the same exact question 10 different times. I care about you and making sure you’re okay,” he said as he placed his hands on yours and gave them a gentle squeeze before kissing your palm.

You took a deep breath and then looked back into his eyes, seeing deep anger & sadness in them. Although you wanted him to skip and comfort you, you didn’t want to take him away from what he had to do. You never wanted to take him away from football. “Positive. Go do what you have to do, I’m going to be fine. Besides, I should get going for my flight,” you said, trying to give him a reassuring smile.

He took a deep breath as he felt himself being pulled in two different directions. He wanted to stay with you so badly but one, he knew you wouldn’t let him, and two, he wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to skip the conference. He gave himself a mental slap out of guilt for leaving you before giving you a small nod, “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he added as he pulled you back into his embrace. “I love you,” he said as he dropped a kiss on your forehead. 

You pressed a gentle kiss against his neck before tucking your head back into his chest, “I love you too,” you mumbled. The heat of his skin radiated against your cheek, and it only made you feel worse. You knew that the warmth wasn't just physical; it mirrored the anger and frustration building inside him, the emotions he was trying to hold back for you.

“Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby,” he whispered in your ear before holding you tighter. “Not as long as I’m here,”. 

You took another deep breath as you felt yourself melt away in his arms, wishing for him to never let go because this hug was the only time you felt at ease all day, but you always had the worst luck. 

“I gotta go,” he said softly, pulling away from the hug. The look on your face stopped him for a few seconds–it was a mix of hurt and longing that pulled at his heart. Every instinct in him screamed to pull you back into his arms and never let go, but he forced himself to step away, even though it felt like the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Okay,” you nodded, looking down at your feet as you took another deep breath and tried to hold back your tears for maybe the 50th time in the past hour.

He used his hand to lift your chin up before cupping your cheek again and pulling you in for another kiss, this one filled with passion & reassurance. As he pulled away, he whispered “Everything’s going to be alright,” against your pink lips. “I promise,”.  

Just before stepping into the conference room, he looked back at you. His heart dropped as he saw you close your eyes and take a deep breath, your hands subtly moving to wipe away the tears you thought you had hidden from him. 

“I hate this fucking city. She doesn’t deserve any of this,” Joe thought to himself as he turned around and walked into the room, the tension in his body palpable as he struggled to keep his cool. 

No one could disrespect you like that and get away with it. Joe wasn’t going to let it happen, even though he knew you didn’t want him to say anything because you wanted to avoid a scene. His protective instinct was stronger than his desire to keep the peace, it was always that way with you.

A half-hour later 

The next half-hour passed by quickly and before you knew it, you were back on the plane and heading home. Joe had chartered you and Emma a private plane for your trip home and at first, you were slightly annoyed by his grandness–telling him that you didn’t need all this and that you were just a girl and could go on a normal flight like everyone else–but now had gained a new-found appreciation because you really didn’t want to be around other people right now. This private flight gave you the quietness you so badly needed, or so you thought. 

You changed into something more comfortable, slipping into one of his sweatshirts that still carried his comforting scent, a comfort that helped calm you for the moment. Emma was curled up in the back, taking a power nap while you scrolled through your phone, watching clips from the game. The familiar sounds and sights provided a distraction, even if just for a little while.

You found yourself laughing at a clip of Joe making a funny face on the sidelines, “His football faces are hysterical,” you mumbled to yourself before you saw a notification pop up on your screen.

It was a text from your sister with a link to a tweet. 

your sister: link 🔗 

your sister: what’s going on??

You raised your eyebrow out of confusion before tapping on the link, your eyes widening as you saw the caption of the video that was tweeted. 

“Click here to see a rare statement made by Joe Burrow regarding his personal life and his girlfriend, Y/N,”. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered, feeling your stomach churn. A wave of nausea washed over you, tightening your insides and catching you off guard. 

When you clicked on the video, you felt the wave of sadness come back as you saw Joe standing at the podium. He looked tired and worn out, with his face showing how exhausted and defeated he felt. As you watched him, you felt a sense of worry and concern, realizing the seriousness of the situation. 

"How frustrating is this loss, Joe?" a reporter asked him.

You watched him take a deep breath before answering the question, hesitance clear in his body language. “As frustrating as I’ve had,” his words were weighed down by the burden he carried in his heart. “This one stings a bit, we just couldn’t get it done. Felt good about the game plan, I was seeing it well…uhh..you know, just didn’t do enough to get it done,”. 

You had a single tear running down your cheek, showing that the strong emotions you were trying to hold back were breaking through the wall you built. His words painted a picture of pain, a picture of pain you had never seen. He wasn’t acting like his usual self and you had never seen him so low after a loss, and that’s including the Super Bowl. Was this because of you? Or was this because of the game?

Whatever it was, you could tell he was hurting. He was hurting badly.

“Where do you go from here? 0-2 isn’t unfamiliar territory for you, but where does Joe Burrow go from here? How are you feeling? What is the level of urgency?” another reporter asked him, Joe’s eyes dropping down to the side as he avoided looking into the reporter’s eyes.

“I need to give him a hug,” you thought to yourself as you let out a soft sob. You just wanted to take all of his pain away, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to feel like he let anyone down like this loss was all on him. He didn’t deserve to hurt like this. 

“Uhh,” he nervously mumbled. “I still feel good, you know…There’s a lot of work to be done, a lot of things to fix,” he sighed as he looked down for a few seconds. “The urgency is very high. We just need to go out and get a win. We have to do better, I…I have to do better,” he added, his shaky voice breaking your heart. His voice cracked on the last part, a sound you hadn’t heard from him before. It was subtle, but enough to break your heart. The vulnerability was right there just beneath the surface like he was walking on the fine line between keeping it together and falling apart. His eyes shimmered in the bright lights of the room–though no tears fell–and for a second, you thought he might break, but he held it in. 

What you saw was the kind of pain that came from someone who felt like they were carrying the world on their shoulders and didn’t know how much longer they could keep standing.

The clip then cut to the end of his press conference. Usually, he’d glance around the room before saying, “Thanks guys” and walking off the podium, but this time he didn’t exactly do that. He did his normal look around the room, but instead of walking off, he spoke up again. 

“Before I go, I just wanted to say something and I know this is very uncharacteristic of me but this is the only way I could think of getting this across,” he said as he looked around the room for nods of approval, which he got. 

He couldn’t keep it in, he had to say something. 

“I know I usually don’t talk about my private life or my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said as his eyes drooped to the floor but quickly moved back up. “And I do that to protect her and a part of my life that I keep very close to my heart, but silence can only protect things for so long. She’s been to every single one of my games for the past 5 years and not once has she ever felt scared, harassed, and disrespected–but she did tonight and I couldn’t do anything to help her.

So that’s why I need to say this,” he continued, his voice becoming stronger and more determined. “If you have something to say about me, my career, my life–literally anything,” he paused, gripping the podium even tighter as if it were the only thing keeping his emotions in check. “Say it to my face.”

There was fierceness in his tone now, a protective edge that cut through the room. “Y/N didn’t sign up for this life. I did,” he said, his voice stable and full of confidence. His eyes scanned the crowd, daring anyone to say anything to him. 

“The awful things that were said to her this evening are things I would have never thought would be said to her, but here we are,” he sighed. “And I know you all are probably confused as to what I’m talking about, but there are people out there who know exactly what I’m talking about and that’s what matters. In all the years that she’s been with me, not once has she ever been in this position before, and the fact that this happened here? Tonight?” he added while shaking his head, his piercing eyes now filled with fire. 

“She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this just because she supports me. So from now on, if anyone has something to say, leave her out of it. The fans tonight…they should be ashamed of themselves for harassing a girl that they don’t even know. That’s not going to earn you any brownie points with anyone. It’s just downright disgusting, pathetic, and embarrassing. This woman has been by my side through thick and thin, through every single up and down since my first year at LSU. She knows me better than anyone does, and she’s the single most important thing to me—even more important than football. She’s my support system, my best friend, home in human form, my person,” his eyes darken, anger and protectiveness mixing together. 

“Nobody has the right to make her feel unwelcomed because she’s my girlfriend. Nobody has the right to pass any lewd comments about her. Nobody has the right to say anything about our private relationship. If I ever hear anyone say a single thing about her, I’m not going to just brush it off,” he said, his words as sharp as the look in his eyes. “I protect the things I love which means I will protect her no matter what. Call me out, insult me, trash my name all you want. But I draw the line at Y/N. If you have anything to say, say it to my fucking face. Leave her alone,” he said before pausing for a few seconds. He held the silence that followed for a few more seconds, the severity of what he was saying took everyone by surprise because they had never seen Joe like this. The looks on all their faces told him that they heard him loud and clear even though none of this was directed at them. Then, with a last look at the room, he pushes away from the podium, his broad shoulders tense and stiff from anger, and walks off without another word.

“Oh my god,” you sniffled, wiping away the tears that were rapidly sliding down your cheeks. “Oh my god,”.

You couldn’t believe he actually said something, and he said it so publicly. 

Joe was never one to speak so candidly about his personal life, especially when it came to you. He was always careful, intentionally private, keeping the most intimate parts of his world hidden away from the scrutiny of the outside. It wasn’t that he didn’t want people to know how much he cared about you–if anything, it was the opposite. He knew all too well the potential effects of letting everything out in the open; the extreme opinions, the relentless criticism, the intrusion into your lives that could come crashing down if he let his guard down for even a moment.

He always tried to shield you from that. His love wasn’t about grand displays or public statements; it was in the quiet moments, the gentle looks, and the way he held your hand just a little tighter when the world around him was too loud. He kept you out of the spotlight as much as he could, not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted to protect you from the ugly side of his world–the part that didn’t care about your feelings or boundaries. 

But even Joe knew that silence could only go so far. Eventually, its weight would press down, creating a wall between you and the life he lived every day. And tonight, when you felt disrespected and harassed just for being there for him, it broke the carefully kept distance he’d worked so hard to build.

So now that he had actually said something, you couldn’t help but feel a little worried. You were a lowkey kind of girlfriend; the majority of fans knew you were dating Joe but you were never the kind of girlfriend to flaunt that you had the most desired NFL player wrapped around your finger. What he just did…what he just said put the spotlight on you and you were terrified that this would do more harm than good. Especially for him. 

But you knew that this was Joe. 

Your Joe.

You knew how much he tried to keep this part of his life away from the public eye and the fact that he went out and said something was enough to tell you that he wouldn’t let anything hurt you. He wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt you, he meant what he said. 

Nothing was going to hurt you as long as he was with you. 

An hour or so later 

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” Emma said to you as she pulled you in for a hug, swaying you back and forth on the doorstep of your home. 

“Are you sure you can’t stay until tomorrow?” you asked as you pulled away from the hug.

“I wish I could but you know I have that meeting in the morning,” she pouted as she picked up her bag. 

“Right,” you nodded. “Get some sleep on the flight, okay? It’ll be pretty late by the time you get back home and you need to be fresh tomorrow for your big meeting,” you added.

“You need to get some sleep too, Y/N,” she said while patting your back. “I know Joe is only an hour or so behind you, but you should get some sleep. Today was rough,”. 

You wished you could get some sleep, but your mind was moving at the speed of light right now so sleep was completely out of the question. You were wide awake. “I’ll try,” you lied with a faint smile. You knew Joe would be wide awake too, his brain was probably moving faster than the speed of light and you could just picture him staring out of the plane window, jaw clenched and eyes focused as he thought about everything over and over. He’d go through the motions of what went wrong, then run through it again and try to find ways he could’ve fixed it–even though the game was longgggg over.

But that was just Joe. This was a part of his process and there wasn’t much you could do other than be there for him whenever he got out of his head and needed someone to talk to.

“Don’t worry too much,” she added with a sincere smile. “Everything will be fine as long as you have Joe with you,” she said, her words matching exactly what Joe said to you earlier and what he showed during his press conference. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “I know,”.

She was right though, it would be fine as long as he was by your side. You needed to keep reminding yourself that he wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt you. 

—

After finishing up your conversation with Emma, you walked her to her waiting Uber and exchanged one last goodbye before watching the car pull away. As you came back into the house, you sank down onto a barstool at the kitchen island, your mind swirling with a mix of emotions and thoughts that needed sorting.

You thought that Joe would most likely be in a mood once he got home since he had all the time on the plane to drive himself insane by reliving the game over and over. You hoped his mood would be slightly better than how it was last week after the game, not knowing if you had it in you to deal with everything if he came home with the same mindset and attitude as last week.

Add the fan situation to the mix and then you had the perfect recipe for a ‘stand-off angry Joe’ who would blame himself for absolutely everything and push you away while he self-destructed. You knew he would blame himself for the drunk idiots and their disgusting words towards you even though it was far from his fault, and you knew that it wouldn’t be easy to get him to move past it. You just couldn’t have him shut you out again, you needed him to talk to you more than anything this time. 

You shook your head, “Stop, Y/N. He said he’d talk to me once he got home and he meant that. He knows that he can’t put himself in that situation again and shut himself down. I don’t need to worry,” reminding yourself of what he said to you earlier and the week before. “If he happens to be in a mood then I just need to do something to stop him from being in a mood. He’ll open up to me on his own terms, I can’t push him too hard,” you nodded as you looked up. 

You wanted to talk to him about everything more than anything, wanted to pick at his brain and allow him to open up to you, but you knew better than to push him too hard. He hated being cornered, but you also couldn’t let him hide under his shell. Easing him into it and allowing him to naturally come to you is what you needed him to do. If he came back in a mood, you knew you’d need something to act as a buffer, something to soak up the weight of his emotions before they pulled him back to the edge like last time. You needed to do something to ease his tension while distracting him for a little bit before he started to unpack the weight of his emotions onto you. 

Your eyes moved to the TV, putting on one of his favorite movies would work, right?

“No, he’d just zone out and think about the game,” you whispered to yourself as you slipped off the barstool. 

Your eyes then moved to the couch, cuddling would work, right?

“Mm, Mm,” you shook your head. “Quiet time and cuddling would let the voices in his head get louder,”. 

Your eyes moved toward the kitchen, and suddenly an idea sparked as your eyes landed on the small orange pumpkin decoration you’d placed by the knives–an early start on your fall decorating. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as the solution hit you. "Pumpkin pie," you whispered to yourself, a grin rising on your face. "Obviously."

Pumpkin Pie was more than just a dessert for Joe; it was more of a feeling of comfort or a reminder that even when everything felt like it was crumbling, there would still be little joys to be found in the little things. You could never get sick of the childlike smile on his adorable face when he gets the first whiff of cinnamon and nutmeg. You wanted to see him that happy all the time, and you were determined to make that happen. 

“Hopefully that’ll work if he comes back acting like The Hulk,” you giggled as you walked into the pantry and started gathering all the ingredients you’d need to make his favorite dessert. This was a great distraction (for the time being) for him because it would let him drift away from football for a little bit. This was a great distraction for him and an even better distraction for you, even if you didn’t want to admit it. Deep down, you were still shaken up over everything that happened at the game, and sitting in this big, empty house with nothing but your thoughts for company? You knew exactly where that would lead. You had just as much of a tendency to spiral as Joe did, maybe even more than him sometimes. 

You might not have realized that by focusing so much on his emotions, you were ignoring your own. You were used to being the calm and steady support for him, but it took a toll on you. Comforting him and worrying about his stress made you bury your own feelings, convincing yourself that they didn't matter as much as his.

By concentrating on him, you could avoid dealing with your own feelings, which is exactly what you’re doing right now. But eventually, everything you were holding back would catch up with you. For now, it was easier to pretend that baking this pie is enough, that it's the solution to both your problems.

—

The hour passed by pretty quickly as you worked on the Pie for Joe. You found yourself forgetting about the game as you bounced around the kitchen while you made the sweet dessert for him. Baking was often a big stress reliever for you and you always found yourself letting loose while accidentally covering yourself in loads of flour and sugar. You loved to bake and Joe loved to eat what you baked, it was the perfect dynamic. 

You had placed the Pie in the oven not too long ago and were now cleaning up, the TV in the background however had quickly snapped you out of your playful daze. 

The channel on the TV was showing an analysis of the game and your ears couldn’t help but perk up every time they mentioned Joe. They were showing constant replays of all the moments Joe was frustrated during the game, on the field, and on the sidelines. They were talking about how the Bengals should have won this game and how Joe outperformed Patrick. They were saying that this loss would for sure put a dent into the team’s confidence going forward, even going as far as talking about how their playoff odds were rapidly decreasing as well.

“A bunch of fucking idiots,” you mumbled under your breath as you stared up at the TV, your eyes welling with tears yet again without you even realizing it. How could they count them out so early? How could they count out Joe so early?

Then the TV showed a clip from his post-game press conference which really did it for you because you had to hear him mention the events from earlier that you were trying so hard to ignore. 

“It was just not a good day overall for Joe. He didn’t play as well as he usually does, even made some terrible mistakes that were very unlike him to do…and his post-game conference showed a side of him none of us have ever seen. He seems distracted, unlike how he usually is out on the field. Was last year the last time we saw that ‘Elite QB’ that he claims he is? Is there a bigger issue than the team’s unpreparedness that is affecting his game? Is his personal life burdening him and serving as a distraction?” the analyst said. 

You knew how intense his life was, and how demanding football could be. You had always tried to make things easier for him. But what if in trying to be supportive, you were unknowingly adding to the pressure? 

Was his personal life burdening him? Were you burdening him?

“Why does this always have to happen to him?” you sobbed, the words coming out before you could stop them. It was like the emotional dam you had built had just burst and all the feelings you’d held back for hours–maybe even longer–were rushing out. Your floury hands gripped the counter as your tears fell down and mixed with the sprinkled flour all around the marble top. 

You couldn’t keep it in anymore. The pressure, the criticism Joe was under, it was all so suffocating. Every time he had a bad game or a few bad moments, it was like the world turned against him. People couldn’t wait for him to slip up just so they could tear him down. 

“He works s- so hard, they just don’t get it,” you cried as you wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. “He’s trying so hard, they don’t see how much pressure he puts on himself,”. 

But this wasn’t just about him, it was about you too. The pressure you put on yourself for always being the strong one, being strong for him, was suffocating. You were tired of acting like it didn’t hurt; the comments and the criticism not only about him but about you too. 

“Is it my fault? Am I pushing him too much? When I tell him how great he is and remind him of all the amazing shit he’s done, is that making him feel too pressured to be that guy again?” you sniffled. 

You were starting to blame yourself for everything, which is the last thing you should have been doing. This was far from your fault, but your brain was so clouded by negativity and the lingering words of those drunk men for you to be able to think clearly. All you could see was everything you said to him that could have made him lose his focus and cause all this. You couldn’t see that this was all because of everything else around him—the media, the outside noise. 

“And I shouldn’t have told him about what ha- happened at the suite,” you said as your sobs got louder. “He’s not focused because of me. It’s my fault,” you cried, your breaths getting shorter and shorter as your heart started racing. 

Before you think about anything else, you hear the buzzing sound of the garage opening fill your ears. 

Joe was home. 

“Fuck,” you quickly wiped your tears and switched the TV to a different channel before he came in. He didn’t need to see you like this, especially since you thought that him seeing you like this was the root cause of all of this. You were supposed to be strong, so you needed to act like it. His support system crumbling wasn’t what he needed right now because who would be there for him when he needed someone? 

You heard the door open behind you and quickly fixed your face before you turned around to see him, and what you saw broke your heart again. You immediately noticed the bags under his eyes, the defeated look on his face, and his miserable body language. 

You patted your floury hands on your sweatpants before walking over to him, grabbing his wrist, and pulling him in for a tight hug. You felt him relax against you before you placed a hand around the nape of his neck and pushed his head into the crook of your neck. “Hey,” he whispered against you as you started threading your fingers through his hair. 

“Hi,” you whispered as you placed a kiss on his warm cheek, feeling him let out a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it in for a while. 

“I missed you,” he said while slightly shifting his head to look at you, an adorable boyish pout on his face. 

“I know,” you smiled at him while leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too,”. 

He leaned down to your neck, “Was your flight okay?” he asked you as he peppered it with slow, soft kisses, his gentle touches slowly relieving the tension you had inside of you. 

“Yeah,” you lied, not mentioning how most of it was spent thinking about everything he said in his post-game press conference. “Was your flight okay?” you asked him.

“It was alright,” he sighed. “I didn’t get much sleep so I just killed time by staring out the window or reading that book you got me,” he said. 

“Wait, are you tired?” you asked as you let go of him; thinking that he’d be wide awake was a mistake. Why would he be wide awake? He had a rough game and even rougher post-game, he was probably so tired. 

“No, No,” he shook his head, his hands settling on either side of your hips and preventing you from moving too far away from him. “I’m wide awake but I tried to sleep on the plane just to pass the time. Obviously, that didn’t work though,” he softly laughed, his nose wiggling a few seconds later. “What smells good?” he asked, that childlike smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he caught a whiff of the cinnamon and nutmeg. 

You let out a small giggle before leaning up to press another kiss to his lips, “Pumpkin Pie,” you said a few seconds later, now feeling his hands wrap around your torso. 

“For me?” he asked while raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk rising on his lips. His hand slipped under your shirt, the warmth of his hand radiating through your skin and sending waves of comfort throughout your body. It was as if his touch had the power to quiet every worry in your mind and body, grounding you in a way he didn’t even realize. 

You let out a dramatic sigh, “Nah, it’s for my other 6’3 quarterback boyfriend. He should be coming around in a few minutes,” you teased. 

“Ha. Ha,” he laughed monotonously before continuing, “The only 6’3 quarterback boyfriend you need is already here. Thanks, baby,” he smiled a few seconds later as he pulled you even closer and pulled you up for a kiss. This one was a bit spicier than the others as his lips were instantly tugging on your bottom lip while he casually slipped his tongue into your mouth, earning a soft but sultry moan from you. His laugh vibrated through his chest and into the kiss, a shift in his energy fully visible. It was playful but with an edge. 

“Mmm,” you hummed as you placed your hands on his chest and gently pushed him back. “As much as I would love to keep that going, you’ve got a sweet treat to eat,” you winked.

“Oh,” he said while raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let’s go upstairs then,” he smirked while grabbing your hand and jokingly pulling you towards the stairs. 

“Joeee,” you said while pulling him back. “Not that kind of sweet treat,” you added which you received a pouty look from him in return. “...Okaaaaay, maybe later?”. 

Normally he’d respond with another flirty comment but when he stared into your eyes a little more carefully and noticed how red and puffy they were, all playfulness left his body as all he could think about was the fact that you had likely been crying, likely because of him and he knew that. 

“Y/N…” he began to say before you interrupted him. 

“Come sit down, I’ll pull the Pie out and cut you a slice,” you smiled while grabbing his hand and leading him back over to the kitchen island, not giving him a second to say anything. Even when you were clearly upset, you still were only thinking about him. 

“I don’t deserve her,” he thought to himself as he watched you plaster a smile on your face and focus on him and only him. “I don’t deserve her at all. I feel so guilty for everything that happened to her, especially because it’s all my fault, and she’s still only thinking about me? ”. 

You oftentimes did this, focusing on Joe and only him while ignoring everything else around you. He was the center of your universe and everything else around you faded into the background. This habit of yours formed early on in your relationship back at LSU. Then, it was all about supporting him through his tiring practices, stressful exams, and important games. You devoted yourself to making sure he felt loved, understood, and cared for while he tried to make his mark on the field. 

And now, even after all these years, your habit still hasn’t changed.

Joe saw it every time, the way you focused on him, how you gave him every ounce of your attention all the time. He didn’t say much about it, but you knew he noticed. The look in his eyes would always soften, as if he both loved and hated the fact that you put him first. 

It had been like that through the whirlwind of college football, and now in the glimmer of the NFL spotlight. You were always by his side, pouring all of your energy into him and sometimes leaving none for yourself. He knew you like the back of his hand so he could tell when you were giving more than you could handle. He appreciated you so much, you were his anchor but he worried about you–worried that you carried too much of his weight without letting yourself be vulnerable too. 

Even tonight, when you should’ve been taking care of yourself, you were focused on him–it was always him. It had been this way for so long, and while he knew you’d never stop looking out for him, he hoped that you’d let him do the same for you on the same level you did for him. As much as he needed you, he also knew that you needed him just as much, even if you didn’t always admit it. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he said again, this time out loud as he slipped onto a barstool and rested his chin on his hand. 

“Great question. You must have done some severe manifestation to bag me,” you teased as you spun around to take out a plate from the cabinet. 

Joe let out a soft chuckle, “Severe manifestation, stalking your Insta for about 2 weeks to see if you had a guy already before asking you out, memorizing your class schedule and your favorite lunch spots so I could ‘accidentally’ run into you…it’s all the same,” but stopped once he saw you take only one plate out from the cabinet. “You’re not eating?” he asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Not hungry,” you said while flashing him the fakest smile possible as you placed the plate down in front of him before turning around to pull the Pie out of the oven. Who were you kidding? You were so hungry to the point where you could legit eat one of those fake display fruits people put out. The only thing you’d had to eat today was a bottle of orange juice and a few bites of a banana muffin this morning—other than the Vodka Cran you had during the game. You just didn’t think you could stomach anything during or after the game because your stomach was in literal knots. 

You hoped that he didn’t realize you were lying to him but one thing about Joe was that he could always tell when you were lying to him. He paid extra attention to the little things about you–the sudden lightness in your voice, avoiding eye contact with him, and the oh-so-obvious fake smile. He hated when he noticed these signs because that meant you weren’t being truthful with him for whatever reason. 

Without saying a word, he got up from his chair and walked around the island to the kitchen cabinets. You saw him moving out of the corner of your eye just as you were closing the oven and carefully placing the warm pumpkin pie on the counter.

“What?” he asked you, noticing that you were staring at him as he pulled out another plate and set it on the island next to his. 

“Why’d you take out another one?” you asked him before you moved the Pie plate over to the island and set it near the dinner plates. Joe let out a soft laugh, the adorable crinkles in the corner of his eyes popping out as placed a gentle hand on both sides of your shoulders from behind and walked you back over to the island barstools.

“For you, silly,” he chuckled in your ear, then pressed a quick kiss to your cheek before walking back to the kitchen.

“But I’m not hungry,” you said as your eyes followed him around the kitchen, watching him take out a knife and a can of whipped cream from the fridge. 

“Look at who you’re talking to,” he smiled as he began cutting a slice of Pie. I know you like the back of my hand, Y/N. I know you haven’t eaten anything all day because I know you never eat before or during a game because you want to wait so you can eat with me. Also, you feel like if you eat something you’re going to throw it up during halftime because of your nerves,”. 

Your eyes softened as you watched him set a slice on your plate, and then use the whipped cream to add a small heart on top. 

He knew you and your habits all too well. You shouldn’t be surprised though, this was Joe. He noted and noticed everything about you and had been doing it since the day you first met. It first started off as him noting how you liked your morning coffees before classes (so he could show up at your dorm with it and have an excuse to walk you to class) and noticing how you’d start fidgeting with the birthstone ring on your right hand whenever you felt anxious in crowded public settings (parties, at his practices, his games). Whenever he saw you doing that, he made sure to stop whatever he was doing and tend to your needs–doing whatever you needed him to do without questioning it.

Now, it had led to him noting how you liked your morning protein smoothies (so he could make them for you, obviously) before you went in for your morning workout in the gym he had designed for the both of you in your shared home. And then it was noticing all your little habits, such as fidgeting with the birthstone necklace he gave you—which had his birthstone on it—whenever you felt anxious now. 

Reminding yourself of how beautifully things had changed and flourished in your relationship, how Joe so easily flipped your entire world upside down by just looking into your eyes one hot afternoon during a football practice you and your friends stumbled into, always brought a smile to your face. Even in moments when you were far from happy.

That was just the Joe effect.  

You watched as he set a slice on his plate, then added whipped cream to his before placing everything down and joining you on the other side of the island. He sat down on his stool and turned to look at you and saw that you were too far from him, which he wasn’t having for even a second. 

“Mm Mm, too far,” he shook his head as he grabbed the beam of your stool and pulled you over, a small shriek leaving your lips at how he easily pulled you over as if he was pulling a feather over. 

Your knees were pretty much bumping into each other, that’s just how close he pulled you over. It was such a small gesture, but the significance was far more deeper. He wanted you close in every single way possible. 

“My big strong man,” you giggled as you placed a hand on his knee, giving it a soft squeeze and then starting to rub it through his sweatpants’ fabric. He leaned over and started peppering featherlight kisses around your jawline and down to your neck, his lips so soft and plush-like. “But I really don’t think I can stomach the Pie regardless of how good it probably is,” you laughed. 

Joe leaned back to stare into your eyes, the redness in them mocking him and his efforts to make you feel better. It was a reminder of how well you hid your feelings from him, something you both had in common. You both would hide your feelings from each other in order to protect each other. He wanted nothing more than to sweep you up in his arms and take away the hurt that hid behind those beautiful, tear-stained eyes, but this was all he could do for you right now without pushing you too much. 

“Please? For me?” he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and placing his hand over yours which was rubbing his knee. He cupped your hand and flipped it so he could intertwine your fingers, then picked it up and pressed gentle kisses on the back of your hand while staring into your eyes. Both actions cause a feeling of comforting warmth to fill your stomach. 

You really didn’t feel like eating anything, but you did all this to take his mind off the game and lighten his mood, and not doing what he asked wasn’t going to help at all. The pouty look on his face was your biggest weakness so that wasn’t helping either, you could never say no to that adorable face. “Okayyy,” you giggled, giving in to his ask and then seeing his entire body light up when you grabbed the fork. 

“That’s my girl,” he smiled as his baby blue eyes lit up with a warmth that made your heart skip a beat. He then leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to your cheek, the gentle touch lingering long enough for your belly to flutter. 

He then picked up his fork and dug into the pie, taking a big, generous first bite. His face went from playful to pure bliss at the first taste of the cinnamon and pumpkin. “Oh, babyyyy,” he groaned, closing his eyes for a second as he savored the taste. “This is so fucking good,”. 

“That sounds all too familiar,” you smirked while raising an eyebrow at the sounds and words that left his mouth. 

“Dirty dirty mind,” he shook his head and laughed while chewing on the pie in his mouth. 

You smiled as you watched him take more bites of the pie, feeling a bit better because of his reaction. The tension in your body, for a second, seemed to fizzle out as you watched him enjoy what you did for him. The warmth of the kitchen, smell of the fresh pie, and the soft sounds of the TV in the background made everything feel normal again–like a safe space where you both could just be yourselves. 

He took another bite, his eyes darting over to you as you continued to stare at him with hearteyes, “I’m serious, you’ve outdone yourself,” he said, his voice muffled with a mouthful of pie. “Don’t know what I’d do without you..or this pie,” he winked. 

“I love you,” you blushed as you leaned over and pressed a wet kiss to his cheek.

“I love you more, but,” he said as he swallowed the bite in his mouth, “You’re still not eating,”. 

You looked down and saw the fork in your hand and the untouched pie next to you, realizing you were so caught up in watching him that you hadn’t had any of the pie yourself. 

“Oops,” you said while pursing your lips and staring down at the dessert. 

Joe used his fork and stuck it into your pie, slicing a generous piece out before using his other hand to lift your chin. “Open up,” he said, raising his eyebrows and holding the fork in front of your mouth.

You laughed softly, “Seriously?”. The look in his charming eyes told you that he was 100% serious. 

“Come on, you’ve gotta eat something,” he insisted, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine sincerity. He moved the fork closer, allowing the sweet smell of pumpkin to enter your nose while he rested his other hand on your knee this time, squeezing and rubbing just like you were doing to his knee. 

You rolled your eyes before leaning in and opening your mouth to take a bite, the moment the pie touched your tongue you felt the warmth and sweetness explode in your mouth. Man, were you good at baking. 

Joe attentively watched your reaction as you chewed on the slice of pie, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched you swallow the bite. “See? Isn’t that good?” he asked. 

You nodded, not being able to hide the smile rising on your face. “Yeah, you were right,” you giggled, the spices lingering on your tongue. “That’s soooooooooo good. But I think it tasted even better because you were feeding me,” you winked.

“Well, there’s more cominggggg,” he grinned as he stuck his fork in your pie again and picked up another bite before bringing it up to your mouth. “Woooosh,” the noise coming from his mouth mimicking a rocket ship as he zig-zagged his hand around. 

You smiled and stared at him for a few seconds, your heart swelling at the look in his eyes. It was a look of comfort, of relaxation. Last week, the look in his eyes was cold, it was tense. But this time, it was just filled with ease and love and it was all because of you. 

“Aaaaah,” you said as you opened your mouth for another bite of the delicious pie being fed to you by your favorite person on the planet. 

—

After letting him feed you the rest of your pie, he gathered your dirty dishes and brought them over to the sink before coming back to his barstool and sitting down next to you again. He leaned over and captured your lips in a sweet kiss, the taste of pumpkin on both your lips making it even sweeter than usual. 

“Mmm, that tasted good,” you hummed as you playfully bumped his knee with yours. You were expecting a flirtatious response from him, somehow roping in the concept of sex into the conversation because he seemed to be in that mood earlier, but instead, he just stayed quiet while staring down at the counter. 

“Uh, oh,” you thought to yourself, your hips squirming in your seat at the sudden change in the atmosphere. It felt as if the room got darker, maybe even colder–just like the inside of Joe’s brain. You brought your hand up and started rubbing his back, “You okay?” you asked, nervously biting your lip because of the look on his face. 

“Yeah, just thinking,” he sighed, placing his hand on your knee again. 

“Thinking about anything in particular?” you said while giving him a heartfelt smile. 

He took a deep breath before responding, “Talk to her, Joe. Don’t push her away again,” he thought to himself. “…D- do you think we can talk about it? About the game?” he quietly asked you, meeting your eyes a few seconds after saying that. 

Joe tried to forget about it, and he did for about half an hour because of you and the pie you made for him. But he knew better than to keep everything in like that, knowing what would happen if all that stayed inside of him and built up. He refused to go back there, especially after getting a flashback of what that felt like last week. 

The sudden change in his voice, his eyes, and his body language threw you for a loop. You thought this would distract him for a bit longer, but it didn’t.

But wait. Why did you want to distract him for longer? You wanted him to open up to you, confide in you. So why did you want him to not think about the game?

Was it because you were the one who didn’t want to talk about it? You didn’t want to unpack those feelings, not his, but your own?

“No. He needs me right now. I can’t let my feelings get in the way,” you thought to yourself, “Be strong for him, Y/N. Stop being selfish.”

“Y- yeah,” you nodded. “What’s going on in your head?” you asked as you slid your hand up to his hair, threading the strands through your fingers while lightly scratching his scalp. 

“I’m just so frustrated, Y/N,” he sighed. “We were supposed to win, we were going to win,”.

“I know,” you said, letting out a shaky breath as your body braced itself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

“And I played like total shit. That fumble just gifted them 6 extra points and if I didn’t lose the ball like a fucking idiot, we would have likely won the game,” he said as his eyes welled with tears. “And we’re right back where we were. 0-2 as fucking usual and it’s my fault,” he sniffled. 

“It’s not your fault, Joey,” you frowned. “The whole team could have done better, especially the defense. You did so good, much better than last week,”.

“Not good enough,” he said, his voice laced with self-criticism. “It wasn’t good enough…I wasn’t good enough. I try so hard, you know? I do everything I’m supposed to, even more, 90% of the time. But things..they..they never go my way,” he added, the crack in his voice breaking your heart for the millionth time today. 

“I know, Joe. Trust me, I know,” you said as you lowered your head to catch his eyes. “But you can’t be this hard on yourself, you know that right?”.

“The flags, the Ja’marr thing, the stupid fucking mistakes. It all just went to shit so fucking fast,” he said as he turned to meet your eyes, ignoring what you said. “And our playoff odds keep decreasing which makes this even worse. If we go 0-3, I don’t think-,”.

“Joe, stop,” you said while moving your hand to cup his cheek. “You’re doing it again,”.

“I just…I can’t help it? I just feel like I let everyone down again,” he started to say and quickly kept going once he saw you start to open your mouth to say something. “And I know. I know what you told me last week, I heard you loud and clear. I thought I could go out and get it done this week and I acted like it too. During practice, in the press conference, over the phone to you, in the locker room to the guys–but once again I fucked up, and look at what happened,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as you saw his bottom lip start to quiver. “I k- know why we lost but I do- don’t at the same time?” he choked out, a single tear falling from his eye and sliding down his cheek. “I did everything I could and I still feel like I’m letting everyone down,” he repeated, his breaths getting shorter. “Especially you,” he whispered. 

You felt your eyes pool with tears, your emotions threatening to spill out as you stared at him. Seeing him like this, weak and questioning himself, was the one thing that could break you into a thousand pieces. He was so confident and strong in the face of adversity but in these quiet moments, those voices in his head were the loudest and he couldn’t help it. The doubts crept in and he started to undermine his success, and that shattered you. 

Watching him struggle with his confidence cut deeper than any of your own insecurities. You knew how much he gave to football, how much he sacrificed for this, how much he loved what he did. It crushed you to see him struggle like this and for a second think that he was letting anyone down. To you, Joe was more than enough–on and off the field–and seeing him question that was making you feel an unbearable amount of pain. 

“Joe,” you whispered, your voice shaky just like his. “You’re not letting anyone down. Especially me, I swear. You don’t see yourself the way I do,”. 

You saw his glossy eyes soften, searching yours for any sort of comfort and relief but as he gazed into your eyes, you knew he could see the emotions you were holding back. The mix of fear and love, concern and support. His vulnerability mirrored your own, and that made this hurt even more.

“I know you feel like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders and it feels like those shoulders are wobbly right now,” you nodded, feeling the tension–the burden of everything he carries both on and off the field radiate through his eyes. “But I promise you, Joe,” you whispered. “You’re strong enough to handle all of this. Even when it feels like too much, even when you doubt yourself. You’ve shown how strong and capable you are time and time again and everyone knows how talented you are. Don’t let one game define a legendary, history-making career, Joe. Don’t let yourself forget who you are. You have all of this because of your talent, your success, and your abilities. You’re the kid from small-town Athens, the third-stringer from Ohio State, the star quarterback of the LSU Tigers, and the franchise quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals. But most importantly, you’re one of the best to ever step onto that field and hold onto that football. Don’t forget who that kid is, who that boy is, who that man is, and who that player is. I know it feels like you’ve been hitting wall after wall every season, feeling like you’re losing something each time you get onto the field but everything you lose is a step you take,” you said. “You make mistakes, you learn from them, and you revise and get better each time. That’s what you do, Joe,”. 

“Don’t feel pressured to do everything on your own. You don’t need to blame yourself for the loss, you don’t need to blame yourself for the slow start. You don’t have to do this alone,” you continued, your voice raw but completely reassuring. “Everyone’s here with you, Joe. I’m here with you. We’ll carry the weight together, okay?”.

“No.” he shook his head. “You don’t…you won’t do that,” he said, his voice rougher but still laced with a tone that made you want to never stop crying. “I don’t want you in any situation like that, not after what happened today,”. 

You felt your stomach churn at the mention of today’s events. You really didn’t want to go there, but you knew you had no choice. Majority of the reason Joe was upset was because of what you had to deal with during the game. Yeah, he was frustrated about the loss, but the way you were treated made it so much more worse because that was a direct hit to his heart. “Joe, I-,” you began to say before you heard a soft sob come from in front of you.

“I’m s- so sorry, Y/N,” he said as he looked back into your eyes, his tears now fully streaming down his face. “I’m so fucking sorry that you have to deal with all of my shit. And year by year it just keeps getting worse for you and I can’t do anything to stop it. When I first started off in the league, your only worries were if I was able to go out there and throw the ball and have a chance to show everyone what I was capable of. N- now, you have to constantly worry about my in- injuries and what people say about m- me,” he sobbed, his tears falling faster and his body starting to shake. 

You quickly reached out for him, placing your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him over so that he was laying his head on your chest. “Joe, baby,” you whispered, cradling his head as you tried to keep your tears at bay. 

“Y- you had to pick up so much slack every time I g- got hurt,” he cried into your chest as you threaded your fingers through his hair. “You did so much for me that nobody ever saw, nobody will ever see. And they treat you like that? Because they fucking hate m- me?”.

“Shhh, shhh. It’s okay, Joe,” you calmly said to him as you leaned down to press a kiss to his hair. “I’m fine, I swear,” you sniffled, holding back your tears as best as you could.

“N- no,” he continued, “You’re not. I knew you were crying b- before I got home. It was because of me, right? Because of what I said in the press conference?” he asked, looking up at you through his wet, glossy eyes.

Your eyebrows softened, and before you could even find the right words, your eyes said everything for you.

“I knew it,” he continued as he hid his face in your chest again, your shirt fully soaked from his tears. 

“J- Joe…,” you trembled, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Stay strong, Y/N. He needs his support system right now,” you thought to yourself. “Please stop crying, baby. Please? You don’t need to apologize for a single thing,” you continued with a more stable voice. “I know you’re trying to protect me,”. 

“Yes, I do," Joe choked out. "Because now you have to worry about getting insulted and harassed by random fans who have some vendetta against me, but think it’s okay to take it out on y- you." His voice broke, and you could see the guilt flooding his eyes. "You’re the only person who’s truly stuck by my side through everything. You do so much for me, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that but you are, because of me. You had the most awful things said to you and it was all my fucking fault. It was my fault you were crying. It was my fault you couldn’t enjoy the game. It was my fault that earlier after the game, you felt like you had to hide this from me,".

He took a shaky breath, the weight of his words hitting him harder as he continued. "You can’t even go to a fucking game without getting hurt because of me," his shoulders trembled slightly. "I- I’m always hurting you, aren’t I?" he wept, those last four words coming out in a broken whisper as if they physically pained him to say. His grip on you tightened as if you were the only thing holding him together and preventing him from crumbling into a pile of dust.

Hearing him say those words ripped you apart. He was hurting, and it shattered you to think that he saw himself as the cause of your pain. 

“Joe,” you said as you tightened your embrace around him, “You’re not hurting me,” you added as you gently cupped his face with one hand. “You’re not,”.

“You’ve never hurt me, Joe. Not once,” you said as you wiped away the tears that were freely falling down his face. “What those people say, what they do–it’s not your fault. None of that is in your control and it doesn’t, for a second, change how much I care for you. How much I care for this world you’ve built for us,” you blinked your tears away and added. 

Joe shook his head, refusing to accept your words, but you continued on regardless. “You mean everything to me and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You’ve never once hurt me in the 5 years we’ve been together. You’ve never given me a reason to think about running for the hills, never given me a reason to ever think about what my life would be like without you. You’ve showered me with so much love, so much happiness that I never thought was possible. You are perfect, Joe. In every aspect. It’s going to take a lot more than just some idiotic, insecure, flawed football bros to get to me and leave your side. Hell, the entirety of Kansas City isn’t even enough to pull me away from you,” you said as you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Please stop blaming yourself for what other people do. It’s not your fault that the team lost this game and it’s not your fault that some men in this world just have small-dick energy all the time,” the last bit of what you said lighthearted on purpose. 

You notice a small, brief smile begin to form on his face after you finish talking. It was faint, but it was there. Seeing that smile, even just a glimpse of it, filled your chest with relief. Your words had reached him, if only a little. “I love you, Joe. I love you no matter what,” you said while resting your chin on his head and holding him close to your heart as you felt him start to loosen up. 

“I- I love you too,” he whispered against your chest, pushing himself deeper into your embrace and wishing he could just melt into your body and forget about all his worries. 

In that moment, you could feel how much he needed this–how much he needed you. 

Your words and your touch were his anchor, his support. You grounded him when the weight of everything threatened to pull him under and in these quiet moments, that anchor allowed himself to be vulnerable and to lean on you completely. And you were more than willing to hold him up, even if it meant setting your feelings aside. 

You moved your hand to his back, gently rubbing circles around his frame in soothing patterns to ease his discomfort. “I’ve got you,” you whispered softly, feeling his breathing even out second by second. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby,” you whispered before holding him a little tighter. 

An hour later 

You got him to calm down a little, but deep down, you knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed in one conversation. It wasn’t just about losing the game tonight, it was about you. And when it came to you, Joe never played around. This wasn’t going to be an easy thing for him to move past and the look that lingered in his eyes told you that. Honestly, you hadn’t even moved past it yourself. But you didn’t want to unload your feelings onto him, not right now. He needed you to be his rock, his safe place, and you couldn’t let yourself add to the storm swirling in his head.

You brought him upstairs a little after he stopped crying and calmed down. You told him that he needed to shower, not because he stank, but just so he could wash the day off himself. 

While he sat on the bed, you went into the closet and pulled out his favorite pair of sweats, clean boxers, and a comfortable shirt for him and set them inside the bathroom before turning the shower on and setting it to the temperature you knew he loved. You then motioned for him to come inside with a sweet smile on your face. 

“Your shower awaits, my king,” you playfully bowed and said, earning a soft chuckle from him. “Thank god he can still laugh,” you thought to yourself. 

“Thank you,” he rasped with a smile, his voice still scratchy from crying earlier, as he slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom where you were, “My queen,” he added with a soft kiss to your lips. 

After watching him get undressed and slip into the shower, you quietly went back out to grab another shirt to replace the tear-stained one that was clinging to your body. When you stepped back inside, the sound of the water running and the silhouette of Joe moving against the foggy glass filled the space. You walked over to the vanity, setting the shirt down on the counter. For a second, you stood still, gripping the edges of the counter. Your eyes met your own reflection in the mirror and you saw the undeniable tiredness behind them as well as the redness from the tears you shed earlier. Your eyes softened for a second, the urge to start crying coming back but before a tear could fall from your eye, you wiped your eyes, “Hold it together, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself. “He needs you right now,”. 

“Y/N?” a voice from behind you asked. 

You quickly turned around and saw Joe peeking his head out from the shower, his hair soaking wet and water droplets sliding down his body and onto the floor. “Can you come in, please?” he asked with a pout. 

You quietly stared at him for a few seconds before quickly breaking eye contact and flinging your clothes off so you could join him, which resulted in another adorable chuckle from his lips. You needed to wash the day off just as much as he did. 

Once you slipped into the shower with him, the heat of the water instantly embraced you. Before you could fully settle in, Joe pulled you into him, his hands gently gripping your waist as his lips found yours with a frantic intensity. The way his lips were moving against yours was deep, raw, and full of emotion. He needed to feel you, he needed to remind himself that you were still there and that you weren’t going to leave. 

His hand slid up your back, which was now wet as both of you were standing under the rainfall shower head, his gentle fingers tracing shapes around your back as he deepened the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck, one hand moving into his wet hair as the other hand rubbed his shoulder. 

His lips didn’t leave yours for a single second as the water poured over both of you. Every inch of your skin was drenched, the droplets sliding down your body, but that didn’t matter. The water was washing away all of the emotions of the day and was leaving you two in your own intimate bubble. However, nothing about what was happening in the shower carried any sexual energy, it was pure love and comfort. You could feel that he needed this more than anything, and you were right there for him. 

His hands continued to roam around your body, slowly but deliberately as he continued to remind himself that you were right there with him. A few seconds later, his lips left yours as he started trailing soft kisses down your wet jawline and neck. Each press of his lips against your skin felt like an apology and a promise all at once–his way of saying that you were his safe space, his sanctuary, and that he was sorry that something came so close to infiltrating his safe space and that he promised it wouldn’t happen again. 

He then moved his forehead to rest against yours, briefly staring into your eyes, before mumbling, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” while gently squeezing your hips. 

You looked into his tired baby blues before cupping his face with your hands, “It’s a good thing you’ll never have to find out,” you whispered, then leaning forward to capture his lips in the soft kiss again, your noses brushing against each other as you pulled him in closer. 

You felt awful that Joe was feeling like this–mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. You wanted nothing more than to kiss his worries away and get rid of all the doubt and the pain by doing such a simple task. He didn’t deserve to feel this pain, this disappointment, this self-doubt. He worked so hard for everything, for football, for you–and seeing his hard work not pay off felt like a constant punch in the gut. Nothing hurts worse than seeing the person you love give their all to something–no matter how draining it was–and for it to rarely give anything back. 

It was even more painful when you saw him cry because of you. The thought of you being a burden, you adding to his stress, was still stuck in your mind. You felt guilty because most of this was your fault. If you weren’t there, then those men wouldn’t have said anything; Joe wouldn’t have a reason to feel this guilty. 

He blamed himself for the entire situation, and you blamed yourself. Except, he was being open about his feelings with you and you weren’t. The roles were reversed from last week. You were shutting him out in order to remain strong for him, and he knew that which made him feel even guiltier. 

“I love you,” he said in between the tender kiss, snapping you out of your daze as his hand cupped your cheek and thumb traced your cheekbone.

“I love you, forever,” you replied, your hand pushing his lips back onto yours. He needed to remind himself that you were still there, but you needed to remind yourself that he was still there too. Even if you didn’t want to admit it to him. 

—

After helping him shower, you finally got him comfortable in bed. The tiredness on his face was evident, but his mind was clearly still spiraling. It was a long day, emotionally draining for both of you, but you knew he needed rest more than anything right now. 

You slipped into the bed next to him, immediately turning to your side and pulling him into your body. His hands instinctively wrapped around your waist as he laid his cheek against your chest, your hands threading through his damp hair as you pressed light kisses around his face. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered a few quiet minutes later as he looked up at you with his tired eyes. 

“Shh, Joe,” you cooed as you moved his head back to your chest. “It’s okay, you’re okay, I’m right here. Go to sleep, baby,” you added with a kiss to his forehead, your heart breaking at his confession because that meant you were right; he wasn’t over it. 

He gave you a small nod before taking a deep breath, “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for everything you do for me,” he whispered, pressing a few kisses to your chest before fluttering his eyes closed. 

The rest of the hour was spent like this, with Joe wrapped tightly around your body. His head rested against your chest as you contuted to whisper gentle sweet nothings into his ear in hopes of soothing his restless mind. Occasionally, you’d press soft kisses against his forehead, his hair, and his cheek–each kiss adding to the palliative effect. Slowly, the tension was leaving his body and his breathing evened out. Your fingers continued to move in his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp which you knew always calmed him down. “I love you,” you repeatedly whispered with a gentle kiss to his temple. “I love you too, like a lot a a lot,” you said, echoing what he often times said to you.

About thirty minutes later, Joe was finally passed out like a baby, his face relaxed and free from worry. You glanced down at him, a soft smile tugging at your lips at the sight of him peacefully asleep and because of the sound of his soft snores.

“Thank god,” you whispered, relief washing over you because you got his brain to turn off for the night.

But unlike Joe’s brain, yours was still moving at the speed of light. Now that everything around you was quiet again, the voices in your head got louder. Normally, you were usually the one who had trouble falling asleep and Joe would be there to help you, but this time it was the opposite. 

You stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, hoping and wishing that doing this would bore you to sleep somehow, but you were so wrong. 

You let out an exhausted sigh before reaching over and grabbing your phone from the nightstand, making sure to quickly dim the brightness so it wouldn’t wake Joe up. “Looking at old photos always calms me down,” you whispered to yourself as you opened the photos app on your phone, getting ready to do what you did last week after you and Joe’s argument. Looking through old photos, specifically from happy moments, always seemed to calm you down in moments just like these. 

You made an album specifically for photos of you and Joe in your photo app; it was like a little treasure box of memories that always brought a smile to your face. It was also your secret weapon for moments like these–when things got heavy and you needed a reminder of the simple times.

You tapped the randomizer button, your usual go-to when you wanted some nostalgia with a hint of surprise. This button would pull up any photo from any year, any moment, without any warning–which is why it was so special. You never knew what photo you would see, but it was always guaranteed to be a moment worth reliving. 

You tapped the button, this time a photo of the two of you from 2020 popped up on your screen. 

You were in the driver’s seat of the new car Joe had just bought and he was right next to you holding the camera–a pure, deeply in love smile and look on both your faces.

Flashback to 2020

“God, this car is amazing,” you smiled over at Joe as you turned onto the next street in your neighborhood. 

“I know right?” he nodded. “It feels like we’re gliding on the clouds or something, it’s so smooth,”. 

Currently, you two were driving around your new neighborhood that you had just moved into in Cincinnati, a few months post-NFL draft. Joe had recently purchased his first luxury car with his contract money, a beautiful sleek Maybach, and you were spending the evening driving it around and enjoying your quiet time together in your new city. 

Joe drove you around downtown Cincinnati first–both of you making a list of food places you were going to try, parks you were going to visit, and the prime date night spots–and then offered to switch places with you once you got back to the suburbs area. At first, he was going to let you drive around the city instead of him, but you were way too scared that you'd end up hitting something or crashing to let yourself even think about sitting behind the wheel. But, after a half hour of him sweet-talking you and reassuring you everything was going to be alright while driving, you were now in the driver's seat and were whipping the car around like it was no big deal. 

That was the Joe effect. 

"I love dating a rich man," you winked at him, earning an eyebrow raise from him that would send you straight to your knees if you were standing up right now. 

"Well, I love being a rich man who can spoil his sexy girlfriend at any time he feels like," he smirked. 

"Are you sure you don't love being my passenger princess even more?" you giggled as you reached over to turn the air conditioner down when you saw him pull the sleeve of his hoodie down. "You look pretty damn comfy over there," you said while looking down at his feet, which were only covered with his socks as he decided to take his shoes off.

"Oh, baby I am comfy," he groaned. "This seat is like a marshmallow or something," he sighed as he wiggled his shoulders against the seat. 

"I told you," you smiled, hitting the right turn signal as you approached the stop sign. "I just wish we could figure out how to set up the audio system. I'm missing our music right about now and was hoping we could do some car karaoke today," you sighed as you turned right and started going down another street.

"Yeah, I know," Joe sighed next to you, cupping your upper thigh with his hand, prompting you to glance down for a second. "Ah, ah," he shook his head when he noticed you looking down, "Eyes on the road,".

"You better not move that hand any higher, Burrow," you said while giving him a heated look, knowing his hands were dangerously close to a certain spot. 

"I won't, I won't," he nodded with a cheeky smile, knowing the hold he had over you. "But anyway. Since we don't have music to keep ourselves entertained, how about a short, our version, game of 20 questions?".

"Oooo," you said with wide eyes. "I love that idea!” you chirped. “Let’s make it couple themed too, to add to the vibe,”.

“You got it,” he smiled over at you, his heart swelling as he watched you sitting so relaxed next to him, driving your new car, in your new neighborhood, in your new life together. It was silly, but he couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe he was getting to do this with you, the one he loved the most. Back at LSU, the thought of this happening was a dream for him even though he was watching it all unfold right under his nose. It didn’t really hit him that you two were doing this–starting the next phase of your lives, the adult phase, the phase where you were together together in every single aspect–until you two had signed the lease for your first home together last month. 

“Okay, the first question for you,” you smiled. “What’s the romantic thing you’ve ever imagined us doing together?”. 

Joe looked ahead on the road as he thought of his answer, but he really didn’t need to think for that long because the answer was so obvious as he’d thought about it about a hundred times every night before going to sleep. “Getting married,” he turned his head and smiled at you. 

Married. 

You felt your stomach do a backflip when those words registered in your head. He’d never said this to you before or ever brought up the idea of getting married, even though it was all you could think about after your first date back at LSU. You thought that it was just your brain getting overexcited at the possibility of your childhood fantasy of marrying Prince Charming coming true–and your first date together solidified that he was the Prince Charming you were waiting for–but you had no idea that he felt the same way. 

“When we’re ready, of course,” he added, snapping you out of your trance. 

You looked over at him, your eyes twinkling with love for him which made his heart skip a beat. “Really?” you breathed out.

“Hell yeah,” he smiled. “You’re my girl, my lady. My one and only. Why would I want to pass up on making an extraordinary woman like you, my wife?” he asked with an adorable smile. There was a certainty in his voice, a certainty that left no room for doubt. Joe had always been sure of you, even when you got in your head and questioned things. The way he said it, with that cute, boyish smile, it was impossible not to feel it too–the deep love and the absolute certainty he had in the two of you.

“I love you,” you pouted, watching him lean in and press a quick kiss to your lips.

“I love you more than anything in the universe,” he winked. 

“Okay, my turn again,” you beamed as you looked back onto the road, Joe nodding beside you and rubbing his thumb across your thigh. “If you could describe our chemistry in a sentence, what would you say?” you asked him. 

Joe’s eyes sparkled with a soft smile as he thought about your question. “I’d say our chemistry is like lightning in a bottle–rare because so many people search for what we have their entire life, unpredictable like anything could happen which keeps us on our toes but also not too unpredictable because we’re lightning in a bottle so it’s contained and secure, and full of energy, but always electric whenever we’re together,”.

“So sweet and poetic,” you smiled as you glanced over at him. “If football ever gets boring, I think you should write a poetry book."

Joe chuckled, his hand still resting on your thigh as he gave it a playful squeeze. “Oh yeah?” he smirked. “Think I’ve got what it takes to be the next great romantic poet?” he winked, clearly amused by the idea, but the way he looked at you–like you were his muse–made it feel like maybe he could.

“Mhm. I think you can write a better Sonnet 18 than Shakespeare did,” you teased. 

“I appreciate the confidence,” he grinned as he moved his hair back with his fingers. “Okay, I have a question for you,”.

“Shoot,” you replied. 

“What’s the most enticing way I can wake you up?” he smirked, the energy in the car going from playful to sensual within 5 seconds of him saying that.

“With your head in between my thighs,” you blushed. “That feeling of your soft scruff rubbing against my skin, your beautiful nose against my clit…Ugh, it’s too perfect. Best way to wake up,”.

“Damn, you didn’t even have to think about that one,” he laughed. 

“Nope. It’s happened all too many times for me to prefer any other way of getting woken up. Except for that one morning, the morning after the date you told me you loved me, when that almost made me miss my psychology exam,” you giggled. “Then I would’ve preferred a coffee to wake me up but every other time, that’s the best way,”. 

“Good to know,” he chuckled. “Okay, next question. If we could have a dance party, just us, what song would you dance with me to?”.

“Teenage Dream, Katy Perry. Duh,” you grinned. “You make me feel like I'm livin' a teenage dream, the way you turn me on, I can't sleep, let's run away, and don't ever look back, don't ever look back,” you sing. 

“My heart stops when you look at me, just one touch now baby I believe, this is real, so take a chance and don't ever look back, don't ever look back,” he sings along with you. 

“Damn, okay Katy,” you giggled, applauding his ability to stay on the pitch and sing with you. 

“Thanks, babe,” he smiled, doing a little bow in his seat. 

“Oo, I have another one. What’s one thing you love about me that you don’t tell me enough?” you asked him with an eager smile. 

“Hmm, that’s a good one,” he said, biting his lip as he thought carefully about what to say. A few seconds later, he looked at you with an almost shy smile. “How strong you are,” he said. “You don’t realize it, but you’re the strongest person I know. You always take care of everyone else–your friends, family, me–without ever asking for anything in return. And you never give yourself enough credit for how much you handle. I don’t tell you that enough, but I see it every day,”. 

“I’m gonna cry,” you pouted, placing your hand on his which was resting on your thigh. “I love love loveee you,” you said as you brought his hand up, intertwined your fingers, and brought it up to your lips for a kiss. 

“I love you,” he smiled, those three words always coming from his lips and never getting old or redundant. Since he said it so often, it was a constant reminder of how deep-rooted his love was for you. He was all in for you, so infatuated with you to the point where being without you caused him physical pain. 

You turned onto the next street–the street where your house was–which signaled the game was coming to an end.  “Since we’re almost home, I take the final question,” Joe smiled as he sat up in his seat and reached down to slip his shoes on. 

“Okay,” you grinned.

“What’s one thing that I could do that would turn you on immedi-,” he began to say but before he could finish answering you interrupted him.

“The eye-brow raise,” you blurted out, a crimson blush rising on your face at the mental image of him doing the one thing that sent you straight to your knees in front of him. 

“Oh?” he said, surprised at your straightforwardness. 

You slowly turned your head to him, your eyes widening when you saw him doing said eyebrow raise at you right now as you turned into the garage of your home. “Joseph Lee!” you shrieked, slapping his thigh gently.

“I mean, we are home now,” he laughed, the smirk on his face screaming trouble. “At least we won’t have to get the car dirty,”. 

You stared at him with your jaw practically on the floor before he laughed again and used his hand to close your jaw. “Just kidding,” he smiled, “Maybe..” he added with a whisper. 

“Mhmmmm,” you squinted your eyes and nodded as you turned off the car. 

“Anywayyy,” he said as he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to you. “You like driving the car?”.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to face him, matching his movements, “I mean Of course, who wouldn’t? It’s a Maybach,” you giggled. 

“Great, it’s your new car,” he grinned. 

Your eyes widened, “What?” you gasped, your voice filled with disbelief. 

He laughed, his smile getting even bigger at your reaction. “Yup, it’s all yours. Figured it was time you had something this valuable to match how valuable you are,”.

You stared at him with a mix of emotions swirling in your body, “You’re kidding right?” you asked, half expecting him to say it was a joke. “I thought this was your car?”.

“Nope. I’m getting a Porche for myself. This one is just for you, a special car for my special girl,” he smiled. 

You blankly stared at him for a few seconds before sliding your Uggs off and hopping over the center console, into Joe’s lap. You couldn’t believe that he just bought this car for you, something so expensive and grand. It was just for you. 

He really loved you more than anything in the world, and everything he did just showed you how all in he was for you. This was another thing added to the list, a very long, lengthy, beautiful list.

You didn't even ask him for anything, he just knew.

“Woahh, hey,” he laughed as his hands instantly went to your waist. 

“I fucking love you,” you grinned as you started attacking his face with kisses. “Like I seriously don’t deserve you at all,”. 

“You deserve everything and more, baby. You deserve the world and I can’t wait to give it to you,” he said to you, the look in his eyes sending chills down your spine. 

“Thank you, Joe. Thank you for all of it,” you smiled before you started peppering kisses around his jawline, feeling his scruff against your lips. 

“No need to thank me. You deserve it for all you do for me,” he smiled. 

“I do need to thank you,” you said as you pulled away from him and looked into his eyes, your eyes now filled with mischief and pure heat. 

He raised his eyebrows at your teasing expression, “Okay if you insist. But how so?”.

You looked him up and down as you licked your lips, an idea sparking inside your head. You leaned forward and placed your lips at his ear, “I think we should christian the new car? For its other use, not just driving. What do you think?” you whispered to him. 

“I think that we should get the car dirty,” he smirked as he moved your head back to his view and started kissing his way down your neck.

“Huh, that’s funny. I was thinking the same thing,” you smirked as you pulled his face back up to yours.

End of Flashback

The photo then changed to another one from 2020. This one specifically was from January 13th, 2020. 

You were in Joe’s apartment, tangled in the sheets of his bed with him, and he was holding the camera in front of you both as you both sported lazy, high-on-the-feeling type smiles on your faces. 

“That was a fun night,” you smiled, immersing yourself in the memory again. 

Flashback to Joe’s apartment – January 13th, 2020

“Fuck, that was good,” Joe breathed out as he fell back against the sheets, turning his head over to look at you to make sure you were alright.

“You have...a lot of energy,” you panted with a satisfied smile as you came down from your high, turning your head to look over at him through his messy hair.

“I feel like I can run a marathon,” he lazily chuckled as he propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you.

“No running marathons tonight, we’re celebrating,” you winked as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his bicep. 

“That’s okay, I’ll just use my energy on you,” he smirked, “If you can handle it,”.

You let out an offended scoff, “Excuse me? Think I can’t match your stamina?”.

Joe looked around the room, avoiding eye contact with you as a smirk tugged at his lips. You grabbed a pillow from behind you and gently slapped his chest with it, “May I remind you of your birthday last month?” you giggled, reminding him of that very very long night you two spent in his apartment celebrating his birthday, alone. 

“Okay, Okay,” he said, taking back what he said. “Fair point. You can handle it,”. 

“Damn right, I can. I’m a National Champion’s girlfriend now, I can handle anything,” you smiled as you laid back against the sheets again, stretching your arm out to cup his face and rubbing your thumb along his cheek. 

“I’m really glad you didn’t mind celebrating here, just the two of us,” he said a few quiet seconds later as he moved your hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your palm. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else, Joe. You’re all I need,” you said to him as you pulled him down and pressed your soft lips against his. 

“That’s great because,” he said between the kiss, “I really didn’t want to be out there tonight,” he said as he went back to your lips, maneuvering himself in the sheets so he was on top of you again.

The LSU Tigers had just won the National Championship just a few short hours ago at the Mercedes Benz Superdome in New Orleans. The entire city was alive with celebration and excitement, and the team was riding the high of their victory tonight. While most of the players and their partners were hitting up every club and bar on Bourbon Street, you found yourself in a quieter, more intimate setting. 

After wrapping up his media appearances for the night, Joe surprised you. You thought you two would just go with the rest of the team to whichever bar they wanted to raid first but Joe just had a feeling you were slightly opposed to the idea of bar hopping all night because he knew you didn’t really enjoy getting blackout drunk in order to have fun, and he was the same. So instead, he took your hand and led you to the car, alone–just the two of you.

The streets, the media, the entire state was buzzing with thrill and excitement over tonight’s game and Joe’s NFL ready performance, but Joe was only thinking about you. He knew how great the game was, how good he looked, and what this meant for his future as a Pro. But he could care less about all that right now. For him, tonight wasn’t about the parties, the lights, or the drinking–it was about sharing this moment with you. The person who had been with him since the start of his journey down here. 

“My little hermit crab,” you giggled as you pulled away from the kiss. “Even when it’s all about you, you still want to hide away in your shell,”. 

“Well, I’m not alone in my shell,” he pouted, “I have you and that’s all I’ll ever need,”. 

“I love you,” you said as you brushed your nose against his. “And I’m so proud of you,”. 

“Babyyy,” he shyly said while stuffing his face in your neck to hide his rosy cheeks. 

“What?” you said as you looked down at him. “I think I deserve to tell you how proud I am of you an unlimited amount of times tonight,”. 

“You’re gonna get tired of it,” he mumbled against your neck as he was pressing sloppy kisses around the bare skin.

“Oh, I am never getting tired of saying it I’ll have you know that,” you said as you stuffed your hand into his hair and played with his curls. “You always find a way to make me prouder so I’m always going to have something new to be proud of,”. 

“...Keep talking,” he said a few seconds later as he moved his head so that it was laying in your neck.

“Gladly,” you said as you pressed a kiss to his forehead, your voice soft and filled with emotion. “Do you even realize how far you’ve come? You’re not just the guy who won the College Football National Title tonight. You’re that kid from Athens, Ohio who fought his way from being a third-string quarterback–someone who people didn’t believe in, someone who thought his shot might never come as he sat on the bench for every game,”. 

Joe stayed quiet as he listened closely to what you were saying to him. “You broke free from that, baby. You took every challenge, and every setback, and used it as fuel to get here. You didn’t give up when things weren’t going your way, and now look at you? National Champ, Star QB, and a leader of a team that believed in you because you believed in yourself,”. 

“That little boy from Athens has come so far. So far from throwing a football in front of twenty, maybe thirty people at a pee-wee football game, to throwing a football in front of thousands of fans with even millions more watching from TV. You’ve worked so hard for this and I want you to be as proud of yourself as I am of you. Because tonight…you didn’t just with the trophy. You proved to yourself, you proved to everyone, that betting on yourself always works. That you are so much more than everyone gave you credit for. You proved that Joe Burrow is that guy and is going to be that guy for years to come,” you added, feeling him hold onto you a little tighter as you continued talking. 

“You did this, Joe. You did the damn thing you always dreamed of doing as a little boy. And this wasn’t just some lucky break, this was you turning that dream into reality. Every time you threw a football in the park with me when you got here, every practice, every struggle–it brought you here. You didn’t let anyone’s doubts or opinions stop you. This win, this night–it’s everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve earned. And it’s just the beginning of your story. Who knows where you’re going to end up after the draft, but all I know right now is that you’ve done what you set out to do. Whether it’s to the NFL or wherever life takes you, you’ve shown nothing can hold you back. The sky isn’t the limit, Joe,” you said while feeling him press a kiss to your jaw and then a wet droplet streaming down your neck, likely a tear droplet from his eyes. “Little Joey Burrow from Athens who used to look up at the sky, dreaming of moments like these? He’s made it. He’s touched the sky. And now, nothing is stopping him from reaching even higher than the sky,”. 

“I am eternally proud of you,” you said, ending your sweet speech with another kiss on his forehead.

You hear Joe’s soft sniffles come from under you, “I love you, Y/N. I really fucking love you. I think out of everything that’s happened to me since coming to LSU, including tonight, you’re by far the best thing. I don’t know how I lived my life all those years without you, to be honest. And I know I can’t live the rest without you either,”. 

“Aww, Joey,” you cooed. “I can’t live without you either,” you said as you brought his face back up to yours and mashed your lips against his. “I can’t and I won’t,” you said as you pecked his lips. “Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close, forever and ever?” you asked him, the look in both your eyes answering that question for you both without needing to say anything. 

“You don’t need to ask me, baby. You’re going where I’m going whether you like it or not,” he smiled. “It’s you and me for infinity,”. 

“Good,” you nodded, a warm feeling in your heart as you two lightly touched the topic of your future together. “I’m not letting go of you if you want me t-, ahhh!” you shrieked as Joe grabbed your waist and easily flipped you over so that you were on top of him. 

“What were you saying?” he smirked as his hands gripped your waist with an intensity that matched the look in his eyes. 

“Damn, you’re strong,” you giggled as you leaned forward and moved his hair out of his eyes, your bare breasts dangling in front of his face which was all he could think about now. 

“Damn, you’re sexy,” he groaned as he slid his hands up your bare back, pushing you forward so that he could latch his mouth onto a nipple. 

You fluttered your eyes closed as you felt him swirl his tongue around your sensitive bud, “Ohh, yeah,” you whispered, your hips rocking against his as a jolt of pleasure vibrated through your tired body. 

“Mm, I wanna taste you,” he said as he pressed kisses along your sternum before moving to your other breast. “I think I deserve a sweet treat for winning the Championship,”. 

Joe’s breath hitched as your hands slid up his chest, your fingernails gently scratching his skin, His eyes darkened as they locked on yours, the intensity between you building with each parting second.

“I mean, it’s only fair,” you shrugged playfully, your voice soft but laced with desire. You bit your lip before adding, “But I want to ride you,” meeting his gaze with a look that spoke volumes. There was a fire in your eyes, one he couldn’t resist, one that seemed to pull him in deeper.

He swallowed hard, his body already reacting to the heat between you, completely mesmerized by the way you looked at him. “Damn,” he whispered, his voice raspy as he slid down on the bed and brought you with him. "You always know exactly what to say to drive me crazy,"

“I know,” you winked, “It’s my job,” you added before you felt him grip your waist again, this time feeling him lift you from his hips and onto his chest. 

“You ready?” he asked you, making sure you were alright even though this wasn’t the first time you’d done this before.

“Oh, hell yeah,” you grinned as you spread your legs wider and moved onto his face, lining your slick core with his mouth. 

A few seconds passed by as you got comfortable, his hands tightly gripping your waist and your ass as you let out a few breathy moans at the feeling of his perfect, ski slope nose rubbing against your aching clit. “Joe,” you whimpered. 

He looked up at you and the sight of you biting your bottom lip and holding onto the bedframe was enough to make him cum without you even doing anything to him, he was mesmerized by you. 

He used his tongue to lick a long stripe across your slit before thrusting his tongue into your core, your hips beginning to gently rock back and forth against his face. “Mmm, fuck,” you moaned, a warm feeling fluttering through your belly as you felt yourself getting lost under his touch. 

“Fuck,” he blubbered underneath you, “You taste like heaven,” he said while closing his eyes and gripping you even tighter. The feeling of his scruff against your bare skin was driving you insane. There was legit no better feeling on this planet than feeling his scruff in between your thighs. 

He continued to lap at your folds with his skillful mouth, even looking up at you with his wild eyes a few times and noticing how you threw your head back each time his lips latched onto your clit, even how you fell a little forward when his nose would rub against it. He was as skillful with his mouth as he was with his hands, both always moving with precision and perfection on you. He always knew what to do in order to send you over the edge, he knew your body like it was a road he’d driven down over a thousand times. 

“Joe, fuck…you’re so- you’re so good at t- this,” you moaned, stuffing your hands into his fluffy, disheveled hair as you rocked your hips back and forth a little harder. 

Your grip on his hair was as tight as the grip he had on you, both of you steadying yourselves due to the intensity of the pleasure unfolding between you. “Yeah, just like that,” you whimpered after you felt him move his hand to your wet heat, his thumb grazing over your bundle of nerves as you felt yourself inching closer to your orgasm. 

You tugged on his hair a little harder, this time earning a moan from him that vibrated through your entire body and sent you straight to heaven for a second as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, “Ah,” you whimpered as you felt the band in your belly tighten with each expert flick of his tongue and scratch of his scruff against your core. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” you whispered as you closed your eyes, your entire body hotter than the sun with the way his mouth was going unhinged on your soaked core. 

Joe opened his eyes and glanced up at you, a feeling of accomplishment and pride coursing through his veins, and it wasn’t because of winning big tonight. It was because of you. Because he was the only man on this planet to get you like this. 

He latched his mouth onto your clit, flicking the bud with his hot tongue as you felt your high starting to come over you with each nip and suck of his mouth and the feeling of your waist being squeezed by his big hand. 

“Joe…Joe…Joe!” you screamed a few seconds later as you felt your orgasm cut through you, your hands gripping the bed frame so that your tight grip didn’t end up ripping his hair out. “Oh my god, fuck,” you whimpered as you felt your release fall into his hot mouth and his tongue continuing to work you through your high. 

“I love you,” you breathed out a few seconds later once you looked down at him, feeling him smile into your drenched heat as he continued to coax you through your high.

And in that moment, you once again realized that there was no other place you both would rather be right now. You were away from the noise, from the flash of the cameras, from the distractions. This felt like the real celebration. The one that mattered the most. Joe had achieved one of his dreams, and the only thing that made it sweeter was sharing this private, intimate moment with you. 

All the sacrifices, sleepless nights, countless hours of practice–it all led to this. And the one person he wanted to be with, more than anyone else, was you. 

You were both exactly where you needed to be. Together. And that was the real victory.

End of Flashback 

You snapped back to the present when your phone turned off and the light was no longer reflecting onto your face. Your face felt wet, as well as your eyes as you looked down at your phone which had droplets sliding down the screen. You didn’t even realize that while reliving these memories, you started crying. 

You swiped at your face, trying to wipe away the tears as if you could get rid of the feelings that had overwhelmed you. You glanced down at Joe, praying that none of this had woken him up–which thankfully it didn’t. 

“Everything was so simple back then,” you thought to yourself as you felt a few more straggling tears slide down your cheeks. You missed those times, those times when your only concerns were what bag and clothes he was going to bring to his first practice as a Bengal or what team he’d end up going to post Natty win & NFL draft. 

And now? Now there were so many concerns, worries, and thoughts that needed to be sorted. But why? “When did everything get so complicated?” you asked yourself as you glanced back down at him, his puffy eyes still closed and his mouth slightly open as the soft snores continued to come through. “Why did everything get so complicated for him? Why is he in so much pain? He doesn’t deserve this…he works so hard. He does everything he needs to do. He does so much for me and for this life, we built,” you thought to yourself again as you felt your stomach drop.

You wished you could do something to help him, do something to just fix everything that was bothering him. But you couldn’t. 

The only thing you could do was remain strong, remain as his anchor, and prevent him from going under. 

Even if sometimes you felt like you were about to go under yourself. 

You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead before whispering, “I’m so sorry Joe. I wish I could take away your pain, I wish I could make this better. You deserve the world and I’m so sorry that I can’t help you in the way I should be,".

"I’m sorry," you whispered again as you felt another tear slide down your cheek.

–To be Continued–

[1d1195]

Invitation

~3.5k words

From me: I mentioned I had a kinda rough weekend. This just sort of wrote itself. Def a stand alone. Second chance at love. I wrote it mostly in the drafts page and didn't do a whole lot of editing for continuity so it's probs not very realistic nor will it make a ton of sense. But anyway.

Warnings: MC parent death; funeral, angst, angst angst. But I'm hoping if you read it you'll see some cathartic, comforting fluff.

Summary: She and Harry broke up years ago and it was completely fine. But seeing her again, even under sad circumstances has his heart pulling him closer to her.

It had been eight years since he had last laid eyes on her. But when he read the piece on her mum off a mutual friend’s Facebook page he was transported back to one of those moments he spent so totally in love with her.

The idea that her best friend was gone made him terrified for her well being. It was the reason he was in a hotel room, straightening his tie in the mirror. Double checking he didn't miss any spots while shaving. He looked simultaneously presentable yet solemn. Her mum was special, beautiful. She made Harry feel at home the entire time they dated. Bought him thoughtful gifts for his birthday and Christmas. Made sure she bought his favorite snacks and always inquired about school, work, or his favorite show. She joked with her that Harry was too good for her and she didn’t treat him well enough (which was inherently false). She was the perfect girlfriend and had the perfect mum.

He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling.

Harry didn’t want to make his appearance about his arrival at the funeral home at all. He stepped in line silently, tried not to make eye contact with anyone and slowly made his way through toward the front, pretending he was invisible. He looked at the picture boards as he walked along his favorite girl and her mother in so many of them. Both were beautiful and Harry thought she was going to look just like her mother when she was older and so he was really lucky that he would know she was beautiful for the rest of his life. But he would have predicted that anyway.

Their relationship ended amicably enough. They were changing, time moving on, and quite frankly it felt like they couldn't spend enough time together so it didn't seem fair. "Shouldn't we want t'spend time with each other, beautiful? Shouldn't we feel feel bad we're not spending time together? It shouldn't be forced. You're m'favorite person in the world, kitten. S'not fair."

He was right of course. She agreed. So they went their separate ways. Since they were still in university at the time, they saw each other frequently. Their friend groups overlapped a bit so they weren't rid of each other all that much until after graduation. There was even a picture of the pair of them together on that day--her mum's suggestion. It was apparent more so then, that they were changing and moving on but Harry was grateful for that picture. When he saw the notice of her mum's passing, he looked at it fondly and felt something in the pit of his stomach. Wanting and wishing he had made more time for her. That she wasn't so busy and their time apart hadn't lasted as long.

But that was eight years ago. Harry was thirty now. He had a few girlfriends during that time and maybe it wasn't a surprise they didn't work out. When he inquired of his friends if he should go to support her, they said it was up to him. Louis and Eleanor were out of the country so they would send flowers. Mitch and Sarah were waiting for Sarah to give birth at any moment so they too, would send flowers.

"I'll be at the funeral," Niall assured him. "I can't make the visiting hours, sorry, Harry," Harry could hear his frown as they spoke on the phone.

"S'okay, s'nice y'can make it t'any of it. She'll appreciate it."

"I hope," a frown in his voice, a sigh in his tone.

"No, she will," Harry was confident. She would never make Niall feel bad--anyone feel bad. It was just the way she was.

Harry was in front of the urn containing the ashes of her mother and he knelt and said a short prayer for her and her sweet daughter. He tried not to think about his own mother at such a sad time and how he would feel if this was her. He shook his head, blessed himself automatically, and stood to greet the receiving line. It was filled with aunts and uncles who were surprised to see him. He didn't fully understand their surprise (of course he would be there for her--even if things were different now) but moved to each one, quietly apologizing for the loss of their sister and only answering how work, life, and everything was with as few words as possible. It was just her and her mom. Dad was out of the picture before she was even born. It wasn't a bad thing because she was her mum's whole life and she never made her want for anything. "Where is she?" Harry asked quietly. Usually the children were first in the line but she wasn't there.

"Another spat with the boyfriend," her aunt rolled her eyes. "You are by far our favorite," she smiled at him encouragingly. "Don't leave till she gets back, if you can. She deserves to see someone who will make her happy right now," she winked.

Harry felt his eyebrows crawl up his forehead in surprise. He nodded. Pride bloomed inside him for being the favorite. It wasn't the time but he couldn't help it. His heart felt heavy, worried she was with someone horrible. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

So Harry stayed in the little seating area, watching people walk through the receiving line, looking at the slideshow of pictures that somehow managed to boil down to one person's life. There was even a picture or two of him. It made sense, he was in her life for nearly four years and they were inseparable until they weren't.

Harry smiled fondly at the memories within the pictures and wondered where she could be right now. He had seen the full slideshow twice.

"Harry, you're still here?"

He cleared his throat, stood, and shook one of her uncle's hands again. "Yeah... um... haven't seen her yet."

"She went outside with the boyfriend ages ago. I'm assuming they're still arguing or she's trying to calm herself down enough to come in and fake that everything's fine."

Harry frowned. "Maybe I'll go check then," he suggested and headed for the door.

Why was she dating someone if it was clear no one in her family liked him?

The men at the door, let Harry through and he quietly walked to the side of the building wondering where she could be having a private conversation at a funeral home. The side was dark except for a flood light that perfectly illuminated the couple. Harry stepped out of sight but strained to listen.

"What do you mean, 'you have to go'? You're seriously joking right?"

Harry didn't know her voice could take on a tone that sounded so angry like that. They never fought that way. No more than who's pizza topping was better or if they had to pick which dinner place to go to on a busy Saturday night.

"Babe, you know with my work--"

"This is my mother," she croaked. It felt like a bullet through Harry's chest to hear her choked up like that. All that grief wrapping in her throat and pulling on her vocal cords.

"I know, but don't you think she would want me to continue living my life and doing what I need to do so--"

"She's my best friend," her voice cracked because she was crying so hard. Harry wanted to run over, unceremoniously knock him to the ground, and comfort her. "You're supposed to be here to support me!"

"Well you know death kind of freaks me out, babe. I'm trying to support our future. I've been here all day."

Her tone was so biting, he truly couldn't believe it. "You've been here for an hour."

Harry winced and shook his head. No one liked death. Everyone was freaked out by it to some degree. But he was supposed to love her; be there for her.

"If you leave, we're done," Harry felt intrusive for listening in but he couldn't move.

"You don't mean that."

"I do, mean that. I really, really, really, really mean that," she sniffed. Good girl. Harry thought. "I have put up with your bullshit like this for way too long and you're unsupportive and if you leave this is it," she assured him. "Work cannot be more important than me."

"It's important for us, babe. So when we get married--"

"And when will that be?" She shouted.

"For the love of God, we're going to do this now?"

"It's been three years. I'm thirty and wanted kids and you are just..." she trailed off. "Fine. Go. We're done anyway."

"Babe, you don't mean that--"

"I will pack my stuff up when I get home."

"And where are you going to go? You don't have a job right now--"

"BECAUSE I WAS TAKING CARE OF MY DYING MOTHER."

Why was she even with this guy? Harry couldn't fathom it. It was so unlike her to date someone so crass and careless. Or maybe Harry was just filled with rage and envy of a man that couldn't help her the way she deserved.

"Well..." he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry you feel that way. I have a plane to catch. Maybe after you've calmed down and aren't grieving we can have a more pleasant conversation."

A silent moment passed between them. Surely he heard it as he said it. It couldn't have been just her and Harry that heard what he implied. "Do... do you... do you think I'm supposed to be done grieving?" She hissed.

He sighed, mumbled something about calling her when he landed, and walked away. He didn't even notice Harry pressed to the building.

Harry watched him get in his car and pull away as if this wasn't the worst day of her life. Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself. This wasn't about him or how he wanted to strangle him. This was about her, her grief.

She was leaning against the wall. She was heaving, sobbing into one hand. For what, at that point, Harry didn't know. He could only see her from behind, the same figure he could have picked out in a lineup and if he was blind. But she seemed smaller. Withdrawn of course. Her free arm wrapped around her stomach like she was trying to hold herself together.

"Hey beautiful," he murmured softly. She sniveled, spun around. Harry was met with her face grief stricken, heartbroken, and tear soaked. But yeah, she was still as beautiful as he remembered. "Aw, kitten," he cooed gently. "C'mon s'cold outside. Let's get you--"

She threw herself against him as he approached. Her arms around his neck and she continued her sobbing against his shoulder. Sighing, he wrapped his arms wrapped around her waist and back, she fit effortlessly into his embrace even after eight or so years since he last saw her. It felt natural to hold her like this. "I know," he murmured comfortingly. "I know, kitten," he kissed the side of her head, soothingly rubbing his hand up and down her spine.

"Please don't let go of me," she cried. "I can't--"

"Shh," he hushed. "M'here. M'not letting go until you do," he promised softly. He hoped she wouldn't pull away because he wanted to take care of her the way that asshole couldn't. It didn't matter what the past was it only mattered that her sweet self could find some sort of contentment.

"Please don't leave me," she begged. "I can't do this alone."

It felt like a switch changed in him. Or maybe it was the anger he felt for her ex-boyfriend. Or perhaps a combination of missing her when he didn't really know he had been missing her and all the frustration he felt for the reasons she was so distraught. He would do anything for her. "No way, beautiful. M'not going anywhere," he assured her pressing his lips instinctively to the top of her hair. Patiently he listened to her cries, held her tightly, and lightly brought a hand to the side of her neck. He carefully pressed his fingertips against her skin, hoping that if she was aching (which he assumed every part of her was) it relieved the smallest bit of tension.

"How much did you hear?" She sniveled pulling away enough to glance into his eyes. Her face was blotchy and red, she was sure. Harry looked like he just left his modeling job for ties and cologne. She wanted to look more beautiful--so it would have at least made sense that Harry had ever decided to date her--even if it was years ago. But she was so overwhelmed with sadness, she couldn't feel anything but that and not even her horrendous look could deter her long enough to utter more than a quick apology for snotting all over him. "M'sorry. I look--"

"Shh," he hushed immediately. Harry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket--Mum was always insistent he have one when he wore a suit. Someone is always crying when you need to wear a suit and it's not to work. Carefully, he dabbed under her eyes, and swiped the fabric across her delicate cheeks. "You look beautiful," he assured her a kind, small smile made his lips curl up just enough to get the dimple in his cheek to appear. The one she had told him she was going to stick her tongue in back when they laid on a mattress that was too small for two people and resulted in a giggling tickle fight between two people who were much too old for tickle fights.

What he would have given to make her laugh now.

Harry kept one arm around her waist taking over her own job to hold herself together. "How much did you hear?" She repeated.

He shrugged, nonchalantly. "Too much, probably."

She frowned; if she could muster an emotion other than sadness and grief, she probably would have been embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry. I was waiting inside, but then your uncle said y'were out here and I wanted t'see you and--"

"Do you need to leave?" She asked quickly. "I'm sorry I'm holding--"

"Kitten," he said gently pinching her chin between his fingers so she had no choice but to look in his eyes and process what he was saying. "M'staying here until y'tell me t'leave."

She sighed. For the first time in what felt like months she felt relief. "Okay."

*

She dragged him alongside her to the front of the receiving line. Harry felt slightly embarrassed and out of place but the rest of her family paid no attention to it. Like he was supposed to be there. She hugged and cried a lot over the next two hours. Harry handed her tissues and water.

“What if I don’t tell you to leave?” She whispered. Harry was standing so close to her that no one else could hear. Like it was just the two of them. She was sipping from a water bottle and Harry was stroking her hair back with his fingers while wiping below her eyes with a tissue.

“Then I’ll never go," his voice was quiet, like hers. He kissed her forehead softly.

"You don't have to obviously, you have no obligation... but is there any chance you were planning to be here tomorrow?" She asked.

He nodded hurriedly. "Course, kitten," he smiled gently, almost sad that she thought he wouldn't. "Niall's going t'come too. He's really sorry he couldn't make it tonight," he explained. "I have a hotel room right nearby so I can stay s'long as y'need me. Do anything y'need, too. And Niall m'sure would be happy t'help if y'need anything requiring two people, as well."

"Really?" A fresh well of tears filled her eyes and Harry's grin grew even if it was sad she was so surprised.

"Of course, beautiful. We... we want t'be here for you," he assured her.

She pressed her face against his shoulder again and sniveled against him. "I owe you a new suit," she mumbled into the fabric.

"Shh..." he hushed. "M'here," he promised. "Don't worry 'bout anything else."

*

His hotel room was dark when they entered. Harry didn’t want anything to happen that could be misconstrued due to her grief but she seemed adamant and sure that she wanted to spend the night. Harry was planning to sleep on the floor but instead they chatted way too much. Much later than a girl who had her mum’s funeral the following morning should have chatted. She giggled the way Harry loved and smiled despite how sad she was. Harry told her all about the last eight years, his job, his mum, their old friends and everything in between.

When he looked at the clock, his phone said it was well past one in the morning and she needed to be up early. “Think y’need t’sleep, kitten,” he was lying beside her, fully clothed except he lost the tie. He was brushing her hair away from her face watching her eyes droop.

“Mom didn’t like him,” she whispered. “She didn’t like anyone that wasn’t you,” she told him.

Harry swallowed nervously. Not because he was worried about her sentiment but because her grief was fresh and the tire tracks of where her stupid ex peeled out of the parking lot were still warm. Her mind had to be jumbled and as much as he wanted to kiss her and make promises, it wasn’t the time. Harry was older and more mature now. The way he wasn’t but wished he had been when they broke up. “After that performance, beautiful,” he sighed with a shake of his head. “M’surprised she didn’t poison him.”

“He didn’t even like her oatmeal raisin and white chocolate chip cookies,” she grumbled bitterly.

“Kitten,” he tutted. “How could you let that continue?” He joked, nudging her playfully.

She turned on her side, their faces inches apart on the same pillow. “Thank you for being here for me,” she whispered.

“There’s no where else I want t’be, beautiful,” he promised.

“I didn’t realize how much I missed you. It’s sad this is what it took.”

He leaned forward, pressed his lips to her forehead and let the kiss linger there. “Do y’want me t’sleep on the floor?”

“No,” she shook her head. “This is the first night I’ve felt tired in months. You have to stay here if you want me to sleep through the night.”

“If you’re sure,” he reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off. He didn’t want to change into different clothes or anything. He just wanted to be there for her.

“This is also your hotel room that I invited myself into," she reminded him.

He grinned at her in the dark. “You’ve always had an open invitation, t’me, kitten,” he brought her closer toward him, kissing the top of her head.

There would be about a thousand and one things to discuss after the funeral. But right then it was late, and they needed to sleep because the day was going to bring more exhaustion and sadness that was inevitable. “Did you mean it?” She whispered quietly after Harry thought she had fallen asleep.

“Mean what, beautiful?” He murmured.

“You’ll never go?”

He nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed inhaling the scent of her shampoo. “I meant it,” his words were slurred with sleep and she knew it because she had heard it in his voice hundreds of times in their time together. He was on the brink of dreaming and her mind was reeling.

“Mom wanted us to get back together,” she whispered. “For ages. She had our graduation picture on the fridge,” she explained. “When I was taking care of her these last few months and he was useless, she kept mentioning you. Told me it wasn’t too late to start over. I guess... I guess this was one way she thought she could bring us back together.”

There was no response because Harry had fallen asleep, and she was close behind. She brought the hand that held his to her lips and kissed his fingers inhaling the comforting smell of him as she finally felt like sleep.

“Your mum was the best,” he mumbled. “She brought you into this world, just for me t’find you.”

The words were lost in her mind, her throat, and her aching heart. But she liked to believe that Harry knew already because he was there, and he wasn’t planning on leaving again.

“We can start over, beautiful. M’not going anywhere,” he whispered one more time as sleep overtook her tired mind.

--

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[lxkeee]

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE

—PART SIX

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Fallen Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: none

Notes: sorry it took awhile^^" this is a long chapterr and Happy Valentine's day everyone<3

Word count: 2.5k

PART ONE | PART FIVE | PART SEVEN

It has been two days since [y/n] started living with Lucifer in the palace of hell that is located in the pride circle. It's awkward to say the least, it has been years since... Well, they spent time with each other.

Lucifer on the other hand is very overprotective over her, making sure she's alright even though she has already fully healed herself.

Both fallen angels spent most of their time just talking and catching up with one another. Lucifer shared to her what happened with his marriage and [y/n] sharing to him what happened to her in heaven when he was gone and she also told him about her time at the hotel with Charlie.

Currently the two are in the living room of the palace, Lucifer's head on [y/n]'s lap as she plays with his hair. Fingers weaving through silky blond locks, soft against her fingertips. Lucifer's eyes are closed as he enjoys the sensation of her fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp. He misses this so much, it brought back a sense of deja vu to him. Reminding him of the past where he and [y/n] would just be lying down on the clouds, cloud gazing while she plays with his hair and his head on her lap. Lucifer wonders what his life would be if he chose to stay in heaven and didn't break any rules. Would he have been happy with [y/n]? Lucifer mentally asked himself, realizing the thought made his cheeks warmed up.

[Y/n] raises an eyebrow as she watches the man shake his head to himself, laughing quietly to herself.

“What's got you thinking? I just saw you physically disagree with whatever thought you just had.” [y/n] says with a small chuckle, looking down on him. Strands of her hair falling off from her ear where she tucked them, silk like [h/c] locks caressing Lucifer's cheeks. Lucifer looks up and sees her gazing at him, curiosity in her eyes, her hair framing her face perfectly. She looked absolutely divine. Wait a minute, since when did he start looking at his best friend through heart shaped pink colored glasses?!

The realization made his jaw drop, [y/n] getting more confused as she placed her fingers underneath his chin to close his mouth again.

“Now I am really curious what's going on inside that head of yours.” [y/n] mutters, her hand had stopped playing with his hair moments ago.

Lucifer shakes his head, “It is nothing, just... Hell stuff...” he says awkwardly with a laugh, his fingers pulling his collar as it suddenly felt too tight around his neck.

[Y/n] looked at him with her eyebrow still raised but eventually sighs, deciding not to push him to say whatever is bothering him. “Whatever you say, Lu.” she says softly and the comfortable silence falls between them once more. [Y/n] humming a tune while she plays with his hair once more while Lucifer was having an internal conflict.

“It has been awhile since I've last visited the hotel, how about we go and see how the others are?” [y/n] murmurs softly, Lucifer opens his eyes to look at her. His red eyes dilated as he gazed up at her, a soft look on his face. He grins at her, showing her that toothy smile that she loves.

“What a wonderful idea, we should visit them!” Lucifer grins, excited to see his daughter again. Although, not really thrilled in seeing the other sinners. Especially that radio demon. He knows that the bastard would try to pull something that will annoy him.

Lucifer sighs once more, [y/n] wondering what got him to change his mood again. At this point she got used to it.

Sitting up, leaving the comfort of her lap. He sat and faced her, seeing her hair falling into her face, he gently tucks it behind her ear.

The two stared at each other a few seconds before quickly avoiding each other's gazes. Cheeks heating up.

“... Right, we should visit them right now” Lucifer says, clearing his throat awkwardly and [y/n] turns to look at him once more.

“Like... Right now..?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he nodded.

[Y/n] clears her throat, trying to calm her fast beating heart. She expected this, her buried feelings now unraveling like petals of a newly bloomed flower.

Awkward...

Lucifer coughs awkwardly, turning around to look at her, “If you're ready, we can go right now...?” he suggested and [y/n] looked at him, slightly in deep thought.

“Can you give me some time to prepare something? I want to bring something to them when we visit.” [y/n] says softly and Lucifer sighed but gave her a gentle toothy smile.

“Alright.”

[Y/n] decided to use Lucifer's kitchen, the king of hell watching her as he leans against the door frame, admiring her figure as she puts on an apron. [Y/n] approaches him, turning around for her back to face him. The ties of the apron are still not tied.

Lucifer smiled and his hand gently worked with the ties of the apron, tying it securely. “I missed eating your cookies, I remember you used to bake me duck shaped cookies.” he says, nostalgia evident in his voice.

[Y/n] chuckles softly, remembering the memories. “Indeed, you often helped me when I baked.” she says and he smiled, turning around as he too wore an apron, [y/n] tying the ties of the apron.

With a flick of his fingers, Lucifer summoned the ingredients they needed. [Y/n]'s eyes sparkled in awe as she sees the ingredients now on the counter.

The two fallen angels began working on the sweets they planned on making, moving around the pristine kitchen. Working together side by side. Lucifer was tasked with whisking the dry ingredients with the wet ingredients. [Y/n] behind him, looming over his smaller body, her hand on his waist while her other hand held his hand that was holding the whisk. Guiding him on how to whisk it.

‘Goodness, she's so close.’ Lucifer thought nervously. His ears felt unbelievably warm.

“Just like that, good.” she murmurs, against his ears. Oh god, he feels like he's about to pass out.

Suddenly he's very hyper aware. He could feel the softness of her skin against his, her hair occasionally caressing his neck as she leans on his shoulder. The hand on his waist, the hand on his waist, the hand on hIS WAIST. Suddenly he could feel how hot his body was, his heart beating so erratically against his ribcage.

“Lu? Are you okay? You seem spaced out...” [y/n] says worriedly as she noticed the man seemed to freeze while whisking.

[Y/n]'s facial expression softens, admiring the man in front of her. He still looked beautiful as the day she lost him.

Removing her hand from his wrist, that hand gently cupped his cheek. Breaking him out of his thoughts, jumping slightly.

“Jesus... You surprised me.” He sighs, placing a hand over his chest to calm his fast beating heart. The golden organ beating against his ribcage.

[Y/n]'s eyes soften, “You spaced out for a second, I got worried.” she says softly, brushing away the strands of blond hair away from his face that was beginning to fall into his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked him worriedly and he gave her a gentle smile, nodding.

“I am alright, I was just... Thinking...” he answers, voice gentle. He wouldn't tell her that he was thinking about her. How he was basically thinking about her touch.

“If you say so...” she says hesitantly and they eventually return to baking.

They just made the classic chocolate cookies and also baked an apple pie.

They arranged the cookies and placed them into two rectangular boxes, they made enough for the hotel crew. [Y/n] carefully placed the apple pie on the cake container, allowing it to cool down first.

The two decided to change into a cleaner set of clothes as the ones they were wearing were dirtied when they were baking.

Lucifer gifted her clothes of course, she has her own room, a few doors away from his.

[Y/n] decided to wear a cute dress that was on her wardrobe, slipping it over her body. Applying some light makeup on her face. Grabbing a brush, her hand gently moving as she began to brush her hair.

After changing and meeting up in the living room, the two fallen angels didn't notice that they accidentally matched color schemes with their outfits.

Lucifer wore his usual white suit with red accents while [y/n] wore a white with red accents short dress that reaches her knees.

[Y/n] decided to carry the two boxes of cookies they've made, though, Lucifer wanted to be the one to carry it but the woman insisted as he would be the one to teleport them to the hotel.

Lucifer sighs but gives her an understanding smile, placing his arm behind her back and allowing his hand to rest on her waist. The action caught the woman off guard as she could feel heat creeping up to her cheeks.

Lucifer didn't notice how that simple action could fluster her so much, he thought it was nothing as he only wanted to make sure she teleports with him.

With a snap of his fingers, sparkling red smoke covered their bodies. The scenery of the palace's living room morphs as they teleport, now, they're in front of the Hazbin Hotel front doors.

Charlie was just discussing with the gang about what they're planning to do once Adam and the exorcists will come. Their attention was diverted as knocks were heard on the doors of the hotel.

“Oooh new guests?” Angel Dust says with a smirk, lying on his stomach as he lies on the couch, taking up the entire space.

Alastor was just grinning as he sat on the cushioned chair, Niffty sitting on his shoulders and playing with his hair.

Vaggie was sitting at the bar area with Husk still bartending. Sir Pentious was sitting with them too. The egg boys are just walking around.

Charlie's eyes sparkled, walking to the front door. Opening it to see her dad and... [Y/n]...?!

“Charlieee!” Lucifer greeted as he immediately hugged the girl, [y/n] laughing softly behind them.

Angel Dust looked at Husk, wondering if he saw the same thing as him.

The two fallen angels looked like they were matching outfits. Angel Dust gave them a smirk, in which the two fallen angels were confused why.

“Dad?! I didn't know you were going to visit? And Miss [y/n] I am glad to see you again.” Charlie smiled and approached the woman in which the older woman hugged the girl.

“[y/n] here wanted to visit and I thought why not? Also, we brought cookies! We baked them!” Lucifer says proudly, a grin on his face. [Y/n] laughs softly as she hands the two boxes to Charlie, in which the girl excitedly and happily accepts. “Really? Thank you so much!” Charlie says excitedly.

Charlie gave the two fallen angels a look before giving her dad a knowing smirk, Lucifer was confused.

The two fallen angels looked at each other and shrugged, not knowing what that was about. The two eventually went inside the hotel, closing the doors behind them.

[Y/n] was immediately pulled into the group, the hotel crew missing her. Lucifer smiles as he sits on the bar stool, admiring how she interacted with the others. No one is stupid, they can literally see the lovestruck look the King of Hell is giving the female fallen angel, they can literally see his dilated pupils. Charlie sat beside him, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“What?” Lucifer deadpans, confused why his daughter is looking at him like that. Tearing his gaze away from his best friend.

Charlie nudges him, “You liked her don't you?” she teases him, Lucifer could feel his cheeks heat up once more.

“Me?! I think it's a little too early?” he says hesitantly and Charlie just gave him a raised eyebrow, clearly not believing him.

Husk scoffs behind the counter as he continues to wipe the glass, “Yeah, no one is believing that. We can literally see you giving her heart eyes and you two even looked like you guys are matching clothes.” Husk says nonchalantly and Lucifer had to double check his outfit and [y/n]'s.

They indeed looked like they were matching outfits.

Husk and Charlie could see the circles of Lucifer's cheeks redden even more. The king of hell was leaning his head against the counter, burying his face on his arm as he used it as a pillow, “It was a coincidence.” he explained and Husk just scoffs and chuckles.

“I think it's too early...” Lucifer murmurs, he doesn't want to admit it but he's scared of what Charlie will think. Will she think that he's replacing her mother?

Charlie's eyes soften, she places a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “You love her don't you? Long before I even existed and you still do and I think you shouldn't deny it dad. It's not healthy.” she murmurs softly and Lucifer sighs.

Charlie smiled softly at him, “If you're afraid of my opinion about this, I think you should go for it dad... I want you to be happy and Miss [y/n] seems to be a nice woman...” she says softly as she looks at the woman smiling with Sir Pentious and the egg boys as they ate the cookies that she and her dad brought. Charlie doesn't mind calling [y/n] her step mom. She already sees her like a mother figure already.

Lucifer's eyes softened, sparkling.

“You better shoot your shot, I think you're not the only one interested in her.” Husk says emotionlessly, gesturing behind Lucifer. The king of hell turned around and he could feel his eye twitch as Alastor gave him a smirk as the radio demon twirled the woman while she laughed.

Husk knows Alastor isn't interested, sure, the radio demon sees the woman more as a companion. He just needed to help this pathetic man they call a king to make a move.

Lucifer's sharp nails slightly graze the wooden counter in annoyance.

Charlie nudges him again, breaking his focus from the scene.

“Besides, I won't mind calling her mom. I won't replace my birth mother of course but Miss [y/n] is like a mom to me too. Allow yourself to be happy, dad.” Charlie says softly, smiling at her father.

Lucifer could feel himself get flustered at the idea. Him, Charlie, and [y/n] as a family. It doesn't sound so bad. It sounds amazing actually.

“Soon... I want to make sure that I am ready...” Lucifer says softly, his eyes looking at the woman who was happily conversing with a certain arachnid, chuckling softly as he notices her getting flustered. It might be because of what the arachnid has said to her.

Charlie smiled and nodded, “Take your time dad. You have all the time in the world.” she says softly and he nodded in agreement, “Indeed...”

TAGLIST I: CLOSED

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[maevesheart]

only angel (2)

FINNICK ODAIR X FEM!READER

note: wasn’t originally planning on making a part two to this but it just seemed so unfinished??!?! and i love ruthless reader idk she’s a queen

summary: through your alliance with katniss, you and finnick rekindle some buried feelings.

wc: 5.2k

tw: violence, death, brutal!!reader, blood, allusions to forced prostitution

only angel (1)

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER, THE 68TH HUNGER GAMES

Brutus and Enobaria sat in front of you and Mace, your district mate.

They reminded you of strategies that you had been taught your whole life, ensuring that as long as you two played into the Capitol’s hands, you’d get plenty of sponsors and come out alive.

Mace and you had never been close back home, but you saw him in the shopping centers, had some mutual friends. It was someone familiar, and even though your two mentors spent more time perfecting your wielding of knives and crocodile tears, you hoped Mace could somehow make it far in the games. Like you knew you would.

Enobaria and Brutus had introduced you to the various other Career Tributes, taking their time to butter up the other mentors, ensuring a ticket for your survival.

You were small compared to the other tributes, even the girl from Twelve was bigger than you.

But you trained, and you trained hard, showing off the various knife and sword tricks that had been engraved in your brain since you were a child.

Enobaria helped with your endurance, shocked by how fast you were. She had instructed you to not show that off to the other tributes, don’t give too much away.

After the private sessions with your mentors, you were stronger, faster, and more agile than Mace could even dream. You almost felt bad, the way Enobaria and Brutus were setting him up for death.

But, at the end of the day, only one can make it out alive.

Enobaria was strategic, determined for you to win. She instructed you to not show too many strengths in the private session with the Gamemakers, just enough to get a respectable score for someone from a Career District.

You followed her instructions to a tee, refusing to be one of the 23 fallen.

For the interviews, Ceasar laughed at your innocent comments and jokes, complimenting the head piece you wore, noting how it looked like a halo.

“Beautiful, like an Angel,” he smiled, the crowed cheering in agreement.

You giggled, smoothing down the uncomfortable golden dress they had sewn you into.

The crowd roared with your unwavering confidence, the arrogance paired with your baby-face and innocent smile was enough to send them into a fit of convivial.

It was just too easy.

The night before the games you had snuck out of the floor for Two, going up to the rooftop in hopes of having a moment to yourself.

You perched on the ledge, a small nightgown barely covering your shivering body.

You closed your eyes to relish in what could possibly be your last moments of peace, before being snapped from your trance by footsteps echoing.

You whipped around, teeth barring and senses on high alert. You were already acting like the wild animal Enobaria had been training you to be.

“Not in the arena just yet,” a smooth voice sounds out, a boy a few years older than you coming into view.

You recognized him as Finnick Odair. He had won a few years back, and was now returning as a mentor.

You ignored him, turning back to the outline of the Capitol.

He approached you slowly, leaning his body against the glass railing you were propped against.

You looked up to him, tired-eyes meeting his, somehow seemingly sparkling.

“Unfortunately,” you spoke, your mouth in a straight line. Enobaria had introduced you to him during the parade, but his tributes were not ally-material.

He laughed at your response. You stared at him, unamused.

“Feisty,” he smirked, watching you look away from him and back to the skyline.

“Not really in the mood to talk about my fate,” you said, his eyes still burning two holes into the side of your face.

His smile dropped slightly, having once been in your position himself.

He reminded himself you were only 15. A year older than he was when he won.

He had only won 3 years ago, and stood on this same rooftop. Looking out on the same city skyline.

Your peripheral vision caught him lean both his forearms onto the glass, shifting closer to you.

“Is it just as scary as it seems?” You ask. You were a child. A child that had been trained to hunt and kill. But deep down, you were just a scared kid. How would you kill all those people?

Finnick hums, acknowledging the same question that wracked his mind the nights before his games.

“It is,” he recognized your fear, but refused to give you false hope that it wouldn’t be as brutal as it truly is.

The words Enobaria had spoken to you earlier bounced around your brain, it’s just killing. Self-defense. All of it. Don’t be scared to kill someone who isn’t scared to kill you.

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes.

“I don’t want to die,”

It was quiet, but Finnick heard it, head perking up and turning to stare at you.

The role as a tribute was meant to bring great honor to someone from your district, but you were terrified. You were young, passionate. You had so much to give and so little time to give it all.

“Enobaria told me to hide my strengths, and I did. I’ll be able to kill them, once it comes down to it. But how will I live with myself?”

Finnick asked himself the same question everyday. How did he kill all those people? Sure, it was survival. Him or them. But how do you continue your life, pretending like you hadn’t murdered people on live national television?

“I—“ Finnick fell short, eyes still watching the side of your face.

“How do you cope with it all?” You finally turned to him, salty tears on your cheeks.

He knew you were preparing yourself for the inevitable. He had heard Enobaria boast about you, and had seen you in training. Other tributes would be frightened to get close to you.

He didn’t answer, swallowing thickly. You would soon understand, you would be in his position.

You choked out a sob, hands wrapping around your body.

He watched with wild eyes, before pulling you into his warm chest, head burrowing in his body.

You made no move to remove yourself from his body, and his arms were snug against your back.

“Kill as many as you can, as soon as you can. Then lay low, hunt. Don’t fall for any of that ally-bullshit.”

His voice was rushed, eyes filled with emotion. He felt for you, a scared child. He remembered his fear all too well.

You sniffled in his chest, hands balling at the thin fabric of his top.

And you listened to him.

In those next few hours, during the bloodbath, you killed two, both with knives to the chest. The Capitol citizens cheered as your face reflected the highest kill-count. You knew it was nothing to be proud of.

That next evening, while the rest of the Career pack slept, you stole the boy from One’s — Yves — backpack, shoving their weapons into it as quietly as possible.

Your small size came handy, being able to stealthily move around them, you were lucky the arena was a desert, sand not making a noise.

The girl from One — Aithon — began to lightly stir, and you knew it was now or never. Finnick’s words from the night before mixed with Enobaria’s, and that was all you needed to take a sword in each hand and take down the two tributes from One.

Their deaths were quick, the canons sounding out and Mace waking up, his laying figure looking up at you. Small but powerful.

You stood over his body, one foot on each of his arms, keeping him from reaching up to you.

His face twisted in confusion, looking over to the blood pouring from Yves and Aithon, each who had just been sleeping soundly next to him.

Your knife neared his face in milliseconds, and you had to force your arms down as he began to scream.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could whisper, guilt beginning to cloud your senses.

But you pushed past it, knowing you had to come out alive. No other option.

“Y/N! Please!”

And then there was silence.

He wasn’t anything special, but he was from home.

You held in tears as the canon sounded, running from the three as quickly as you could.

Whilst you hid behind one of the large cacti around the arena, Enobaria grinned as Capitol citizens celebrated her and you, her star tribute.

Finnick watched, heart tugging, knowing that he had encouraged the killings, he had told you to trust no one. And you had listened.

And from then on, you became the Capitol’s angel, their winged symbol of purity, despite the blood and deaths of many on your hands.

When Snow placed the crown on your head, you smiled, naively, and thanked the crowd. Thanked them for their donations, and their belief in you from the beginning.

But that’s all you were to them: a spectacle. A little girl who killed five in one day, a little girl who’s life had been dedicated to these games, to win. A little girl who would never get her purity back, never get to sleep without seeing Mace’s terrified face before she killed him.

He didn’t deserve it, none of them did. But it was life or death. And there was no way you were going to die.

PRESENT DAY, THE THIRD QUARTER QUELL

Your group continued up to the Cornucopia, you and Finnick taking the tail.

Peeta and Finnick drew a map in the dark sand, you leaned against the side of the metal Cornucopia, Johanna plopping down next to you, and Katniss on your other side.

It all happened in a blur. One second, Wiress was singing her song about a mouse and the clock, and the next, Gloss was on top of her, knife straight into the heart.

Katniss’s arrow struck him, you grabbing your swords to get Cashmere who was standing behind him.

Finnick rushed after you. He knew you could take Cashmere, but what happened if Brutus appeared? Brutus had never been kind to you, and it was doubtful he would start now.

Your sword stuck Cashmere in the leg, and she screamed, falling onto the little amount of ground that the middle sector offered.

She turned over, knife in her left hand, grazing your ankle slightly. Luckily your stylist had dressed you in thicker socks; she had been an absolute idiot about most things, but at least she had your back in the arena.

Your thigh was still slightly burning with pain, but you pushed through it, sticking both your swords into Cashmere’s chest, a strangled gasp leaving her lips and her head falling back against the ground.

The canon sounded out, but you continued to pull your swords out and drive them back into her chest, more blood pouring out.

You were grunting now, mind hyper-aware of your actions, but refusing to stop.

You kept driving the sharp tools into her chest, her body slightly moving up when you retracted the metal, and then caving in as you pushed them back.

You weren’t going to die; you refused to.

Hands were on your shoulders, pulling you backwards, and you turned, swinging.

Finnick let go and backed away, hands held up. He knew you’d never hurt him, but once you’re in the killing mindset, it’s very hard to break it.

You dropped the weapons to your side, a long breath leaving your lips that you hadn’t realized you’d be holding in.

Finnick pulled you along with him, hand on your side as he brought you over to everyone else.

All of them were staring with wide eyes — besides Johanna of course.

Katniss knew you were brutal, but she didn’t realize how quickly you did turn into the angel of death. One second you were smiling, laughing at something Johanna had said.

Then your eyes were lit with a fire, teeth out, and running, faster than Katniss had ever seen someone move.

She had watched you kill Cashmere in seconds, continuing to drive the weapons into her, sounds of exasperation leaving your lips but you were unrelenting.

You felt like you were fifteen again, scared and angry, brutal to anyone who crossed your path. Your swordsmanship was uncanny, and Katniss dreaded the moment that she had to try and kill you.

And then the Cornucopia began to spin, extremely fast. You grabbed onto Finnick, a sword sucking down into the water, your other tight in the palm of your opposite hand.

You and Finnick fell to the ground, grabbing at the hard rocks to keep from flying to the water.

And then you heard Peeta scream Katniss’s name, and the two of you both yelled a loud, “shit!”

You pushed off the hard ground, crawling to the side of the island, hand reaching down to grab Johanna’s axe and try to hoist the two of them up.

You grunted, holding onto a small portion of the metal that wasn’t sharp. Your feet dug into the ground, sword shoved into the rock to keep you grounded.

You watched as Katniss went flying down, and then Johanna was on top of you, the two of you gasping for oxygen when the spinning stopped.

You and Johanna were back on your feet, rushing to help Katniss out of the water.

You all made your way back onto the sand, where it was relatively safe.

You discussed strategy, your fingers tracing different shapes into Finnick’s thigh.

“Who’s left then?” Katniss asked, eyes flickering between you and Johanna, the two of you having a conversation with your eyes.

“Brutus and Chaff, I think that’s all,” Peeta announced, all eyes shifting to you at the mention of your district-mate.

“I get Brutus,” you spoke clearly, eyes hard.

“Y/N…” Finnick spoke, hand smoothing down your arm.

“Just… I know him. I can handle it, I swear,”

He had helped train you, of course you would know his methods like the back of your hand. You had been seeking revenge for years, waiting for the day you could get him back.

What had the games done to you? Fantasizing about killing someone?

And then you were back there, back to the moment your life really ended.

You were dressed in clothes Snow had picked out, a hairstyle Snow had picked out, makeup Snow had picked out. You were his newest doll, malleable to his every demand.

It was your victory tour, and Enobaria and Brutus were accompanying you, helping you with speeches and coming to terms with your new life as a Capitol pet.

You were finishing up in the Capitol, the final destination. Snow had laid out his conditions for you: your pride and body now belonged to the Capitol, and with it, they could do what they pleased. Your company came with a high price.

He had threatened your family back in Two, describing in detail what would become of them if you didn’t comply with his wishes.

You had gone back to the train and told Enobaria and Brutus, eyes spilling hot tears when Enobaria pulled you into her arms, hands stroking your hair. At least she was kind.

Brutus, however, was not.

His boisterous laugh rang off the walls of the train, your eyes peeking out from Enobaria’s embrace to glare at him.

“Let me know when you start, sweetheart,” he smirked, a scowl overtaking your features.

You had been waiting to get him back, to show him that weren’t a little slave for his disposal. Finnick understood your rage, more than any other person could.

He wanted to kill Brutus just as badly as you did.

No one else asked any questions, and for that you were grateful.

And then the screaming started, and you jumped to your feet, eyes frantic and scanning the area.

Whoever it was, they were screaming for Katniss, and rather brutally as well.

And off she took. You were the fastest, so you caught her first, arms around her shoulders to steady her, but she kept moving, screaming back to the voice.

She stopped abruptly, and shot an arrow into a large black bird that was flying over your heads.

The screaming stopped immediately. And then it began again, this time, it was the voice of Mace. And you felt the blood drain from your entire body, legs suddenly shaking and threatening to go out.

The words he had screamed to you before you had slit his throat were wrapping around your body, swallowing you whole.

“Y/N! Please! Y/N!” You were running then, the screaming getting louder and louder, tears streaming down your face as you tried to escape it; the horror that would haunt you forever.

“It’s not real, they’re jabberjays!” Katniss assured you, running behind you, trying to catch up.

You saw Finnick and Johanna’s faces ahead through your blurry vision, and you sped up, Finnick’s arms wide for you to run into.

But it was a force field, and you collided right into it, falling to the ground in a heap of tears and painful memories.

You covered your ears, head digging into the ground to stop the noise, but it wouldn’t stop. You wailed, and Finnick was hitting the force field, which he was standing on the direct other side, but there was no avail.

He was screaming for you, to look at him, listen to his voice. But the field was soundproof, and he had to watch with a heavy heart as you sobbed, the sounds of the person you betrayed all those years ago the only thing you could focus on.

Finnick’s hands were all over you, smoothing down your hair, checking your face, helping you stand.

Peeta was doing the same with Katniss, the both of you having tear-stains down your cheeks and dirt smudged into your cheeks.

You were frozen solid, eyes big and wide, legs slightly shaking. You had never felt worse about something than what you did to Mace that dreadful night. His screams haunted your dreams, and to have the Gamemakers play into that weakness reminded you just who the real enemy is.

“Y/N, look at me,” Finnick’s hands were on the sides of your face, pulling you closer to his protective figure.

“It wasn’t real. It wasn’t him,” he shook his head lightly, your lips still quivering from fear.

You could only muster the strength to simply nod, telling him that you knew, but the Gamemakers were cruel, so cruel, and they had hit you right where it hurt.

Just as you were beginning to regain your usual automatic-kill mindset, a small box flew down, straight into your hands.

Everyone gathered around you, curious as to what could’ve been sent.

You knew Enobaria would have your back, and considering the sponsors this year were based upon what you had left over from your games, you were lucky. You had a large pot of donations under your name, not needing much assistance when you were in your first games.

You screwed off the top, being met with a small vile of Crave Cure, the very concoction that she had sent you during your games. It came with a note reading: remember who the real enemy is. I’m always rooting for you. - Baria

That assured you of Enobaria’s stance, likely scheming with Haymitch and Plutarch behind the scenes, ensuring your protection by Thirteen.

Finnick smiled next to you, Johanna calling out with happiness.

“Finally!” Johanna cheered, axe thrust into the air.

You even broke a smile, suddenly distracted from the traumatic experience you had just endured.

You looked up, seeing the confused looks on Katniss and Peeta’s faces.

They would’ve never heard of Crave Cure, it was the most expensive thing a mentor could send their tribute, and required many sponsors. It was usually only sent to the Careers, both you and Finnick had received it during your games.

“Crave Cure,” you spoke, Katniss’s eyes meeting yours.

“One drop on your tongue and it cures hunger for 12 hours,” you smiled to them, picking up the vile.

“Enobaria is a saint,” Johanna spoke, watching as you dropped a tiny bit of the brown liquid onto your tongue, a content sigh escaping your lips.

Beetee went next, then Finnick and Johanna.

Katniss and Peeta stood awkwardly to the side, not knowing to approach or not.

“Oh, enough of that! We’re allied, aren’t we? Take a drop,” you urged, placing the vile into her hands.

Peeta nodded, and that seemed to be all the convincing Katniss needed before mimicking your action and gagging when she tasted the fluid.

You laughed at her expression, a light-hearted tease. “Not the best, but it does do its job,”

You figured you had really won her trust, considering how she walked next to you during the hike to the big tree.

The two of you talked about your families back home. You complimented her dedication, to protect her little sister.

She had killed your Cato and Clove; the two you had spent hours coaching, assuring they’d be okay in the end. Words you had needed so badly during your games.

Through talking with Katniss, you realized no one deserved to win as much as she did. She was selfless, willing to sacrifice herself for both her sister and Peeta, placing herself as a protector, not a victim.

And then the peace you had all been building crashed down, Katniss suddenly retreating from the trust you all had built after Beetee offered she go with you and Johanna.

“Why can’t Johanna and Y/N go? I’ll protect you with Peeta,” she spoke, and you met Finnick’s gaze. You read the fear in his eyes, knowing this the was now or never moment.

“Katniss,” you spoke, hands resting on her shoulders.

“You know who the true enemy is,” you whispered, holding her intense eye-contact.

Her eyes softened at your words, everything seemingly clicking into place. With a nod, you grabbed her hand, and pulled her with you and Johanna.

A look over your shoulder to Finnick, and a nod. Your eyes said it all: I love you. I’ll see you soon, once we are safe and out of the Capitol’s hands.

You and Johanna halted your movements, stopping Katniss as you did.

“Stay down,” Johanna instructed Katniss, grabbing her arm.

“What-“ Katniss was about to scream, and you could not let that happen.

You grabbed her face with your hands, eyes frantic for her faith.

“You can trust us,” you whispered, barely loud enough for the cameras to pick up on.

But the raw emotion in your eyes calmed Katniss, giving Johanna the opportunity to cut the tracker out, Katniss’s arm beginning to bleed heavily.

“It’s alright,” you soothed her, your arm out to Johanna, waiting for the inevitable sear of pain.

And then it came, and you placed your body over Katniss’s not allowing her to get up and try to attack.

But then you spotted Brutus over the rock, his hard eyes staring straight into yours.

“Y/N,” Johanna warned, watching the familiar fire begin to brew.

You were up in seconds, sword in one hand, knife in the other, running up the rocky hill. The pain in your arm was masked by the rush of adrenaline you ran high off, killing spree — if you will.

Johanna grunted in anger, but she knew not to expect anything different from you.

“Do not move,” she instructed Katniss, picking up her axe to follow you.

You had reached Brutus quickly, pouncing onto his back and driving your sword straight through his abdomen.

He cried out in pain, blood soon coating your legs that wrapped around his waist.

You pulled the sword out, taking the knife to his neck. He was dead in seconds, the familiar canon sounding throughout the arena.

After registering what you had done, images of Katniss flooded your mind and you internally cursed yourself, rushing back to the spot you had left her and Johanna.

Johanna was back to your side, but Katniss was no where to be seen.

“Fuck!” You cursed, sprinting back towards the tree where Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta were.

She had likely gone back to protect Peeta and kill Finnick, and you were not about to let that happen.

Johanna tried to keep up with you; but even with a gushing arm and slit leg, you were fast. Much faster than anyone else.

“Finnick!” You screamed, feet pounding against the hard ground, propelling you towards the tree, where you watched Katniss aim her arrow straight at Finnick’s head.

Beetee was on the ground, and you crouched, feeling for his pulse. His heart was still beating and you hovered over him protectively, in case Katniss decided to turn around and fire at you too. Which seemed very likely.

You watched as Finnick said something to Katniss, obviously resonating with her, the bow slightly lowering.

“Johanna! Give me your arm!” You swung around, panic-struck and searching for the familiar face.

And you saw her a few feet below, trying to climb the vines you had mounted with ease.

You looked between Finnick and her, torn as to which to try and protect. You knew Finnick would hold his own, so you turned back around and began to move for Johanna, quick feet avoiding possible injuries.

But just as you were in grabbing-distance of her, Finnick’s voice rang out, screaming, “Get away from that tree!”

A crack of something echoed around you, and you turned wildly, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Then you understand what Finnick had meant, a loud crack of lightening rained down and sent you flying, reaching for Johanna as you flew past her, her terrified eyes meeting yours.

The last thing you remembered was being pulled up into the air by a large claw, head and limbs limp as you were hoisted up; sword still secure in your palm, a protection habit you had picked up since your games. You always needed to be armed, after all, life was the arena.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor, steady beeping lightly calming your high-alert nerves.

You winced sitting up, large bandages wrapped around your forearm and thigh.

You inspected your surroundings, two empty mats in front of you, and Katniss sleeping to your left.

You stood, hushed voices on the other side of the door that reached the ceiling of the craft you were on.

You looked for a weapon of sorts, not willing to go in unarmed. On the other side of the empty room was your sword, glimmering and coated in blood.

You walked over to it, legs sore and aching, the familiar metal calming against your palm.

The door immediately opened as you approached it, Haymitch and Plutarch’s widening as they spotted your weapon of choice clutched in your ruthless hands.

But it dropped to the floor with a loud clatter when your tired eyes met Finnick’s, a relieved smile coming over your features.

You rushed to him, throwing yourself into his arms. His lips met yours halfway, melting into his strong hold around your body.

The two of you fit together perfectly, like you had been made in the same mold.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him tighter to your already close bodies.

You poured all your pent up feelings into the kiss, all the feelings you had suppressed since the fight that had ended your relationship.

It was the most relaxed you had been in the whole week, since your name was plucked from the bowl of living victors.

His lips moved against yours as he squeezed your hips, hands feeling everything they could, to ensure that it was in fact you, and you were alive and safe in front of him.

You pulled a part, a grin across your small face.

He smiled back, but your bliss was interrupted from the clearing of a throat behind you. You spun around, eyes meeting the expectant ones of Haymitch, Plutarch, and Beetee.

The look on your face said it all. And Haymitch nodded, validating all the thoughts that had been running through your head.

You were safe, headed for the secret hideout of Thirteen. All was okay.

You almost began to laugh thinking about how the Capitol would react, their Angel and Darling being two of the biggest conspirators in a rebellion. How ironic.

And Katniss was on the ship, you had successfully carried out your tasks.

“Where’s Johanna?” You asked, a smile still dotting your face.

Finnick’s composure broke, and your heart dropped, realizing the obvious.

“No, no, no, no,” you began to back away, spine hitting the hard metal of the table.

“I went after Brutus, I didn’t cut the tracker… fuck! Oh my god, Finnick, oh god,” you began to dry-heave, accepting her capture as your fault.

Finnick’s hands were on your biceps, steadying you and pulling you back into his chest.

“Johanna and Peeta are in the Capitol,” Plutarch spoke, your worst fears being confirmed.

“It’s all my fault,” you groaned, head in your hands. You had killed, hunted, and tortured. But the idea of a friend’s death being on your hands hurt more than any of those ever did.

Haymitch spoke reassuring words behind you, but Finnick’s hold and the idea of betraying Johanna was all you could focus on.

How would she forgive you? Was she alive? How would you ever cope if she wasn’t, and it was all your fault? Of course, you let the murderer take over, and went after Brutus.

Finnick’s arms soothed down your back, keeping your grounded as you were flooded with grief, with the heavy weight of betrayal.

Johanna and you were close friends, you were supposed to protect each other in the games. She had protected you, always by your side, and you neglected to do the same.

“We’re going to try and rescue them as soon as we can,” Haymitch said, even though you all knew that might be an impossible task.

And then Finnick slipped his hand into yours, fingers curling around yours and softly rubbing your knuckles.

You composed yourself, closing your eyes as you took in a deep breath, regaining focus on just your interlocked hands. Finnick always knew how to relax you.

All you had wanted initially was to get out of this quarter quell alive, to return home to your big mansion and family. To hug them again, to prove to the Capitol that they could take everything from you, but they couldn’t kill you.

But now, you realized that all had been in vain. Where you really belonged was here, holding hands with Finnick, discussing how you were going to break your friends from the Capitol’s mean grip.

You’d die for him, for them. You’d flap your wings once more to ensure they’d all live.

When Katniss first volunteered for Primrose, you hadn’t understood how she would sacrifice her life for another.

But now you knew, and you knew you’d do it too.

You finally had something to live for, someone you loved, who understood all that you had gone through better than anyone else.

Life was the arena, and if it came down to it, you knew the angel would sacrifice herself for the darling.

**

[azsazz]

Evening Roost

ACOTAR Omegaverse Week Day 1: Cassian x Reader [Nesting]

Summary: This was supposed to be for omegaverse x acotar day 1 but now it just is. Prompt was: Surely there’s a perfectly normal, completely unsuspicious reason they’re feeling an irresistible urge to arrange and rearrange the blankets and pillows…. right?

Anon Req: for omegaverse day 1, I could so see reader spending AGES every year to make a nest, only for cassian to destroy it within like two minutes every heat cycle bc he's too distracted by his mate and excited to pay attention to little things like that ... and one year reader gets mad and is like "you're not f*cking me in here until you're not a threat to its structural integrity" and cassian is very regretful & apologizes & makes it up to her by making her cum until she can't think straight ...? (if you don't like this prompt feel free to ignore it this was just an idea ... also I'm a big fan of your work & I'm excited you're writing more!!) 🩷🩷

And also fulfills anon reqs : Not sure if you’re taking requests but could you write an omega/alpha fic with Cassian where reader is in heat? Love your writing! —and—Heyyyy! Once your requests might be free, can you do a Omegaverse heat fic but with Cassian, something with both angst and some spicy smut?

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, light breeding kink.

Word Count: 2640

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“And…perfect,” you sigh, smiling contently to yourself as you shift the last pillow into place. Sitting back on your haunches, you admire the nest you spent the entirety of the week building, piled high and far away from where anyone can see it. Or touch it. 

Namely, your mate.

Yes, Cassian is everything you want in an alpha and more: muscle upon muscle that he uses unabashedly to carry you around, to throw you over his shoulder when you’re pouting and grumbling when you should really be riding his cock. Or when he smacks your ass with that rough, calloused hand of his, the one you’d like stuck right between your legs right now.

You shift, biting your lip as you rub your thighs together, eliciting a sensation you know all too well, a flood of warmth pooling deeply between them.

Your heat has been building for a few days now, as if waiting for the perfect moment to appear. Your body must have sensed that Cassian’s rut was on its way as well, forcing your body to respond to your alpha’s scent. You’ve been feeling the familiar discomfort of your oncoming cycle, irritable to anyone who wasn’t Cassian, sensitive to sounds and smells, especially blood, and feeling like your body is always just a little bit too hot. 

Which is why you’ve been patiently awaiting the other paw to drop, busying yourself by building the perfect nest. It has taken careful meandering and pawning of objects from throughout your home: a cord of leather that Cassian had taken out of his damp hair before climbing into the tub with you last night, the worn scabbard of one of his knives, a day old shirt that hadn’t been used for sparring, and another one that had.

In the corner of your closet, you sit, burrowing deeply into the fabrics and reveling in the scents of your mate. The mead he drank until he was dizzy still lingers from where he’d sweat it out the night after. The lingering scent of his soap, brash and heady and all male. The faint tinge of your juices from where they’d gotten on the sheets, the ones you hadn’t allowed anyone to clean, to touch when he fucked you into them two nights prior.

It feels like a secret, you think as you smile into the dark. All the way at the back of the expansive closet, nestled between hanging clothes and boots, nestled beside training boots and hidden weapons should you ever need them. It’s the perfect place, the perfect size for someone like you, an omega blissfully waiting for her alpha to fall into the throes of his rut.

“Little omega,” Cassian sing-songs. You hear the door to your bedroom opening and closing with a quick snap and your anticipation spikes. The heat between your thighs grows as your body goes hot. There’s a keen alertness to his voice that makes your stomach fill with butterflies, your cunt drench with need.

His rut is here.

“Where are you?” He wonders aloud, and a bolt of thrill zips up your spine at the thought of this game you have the chance to play. Hunter and prey. How he’s going to sniff you out like the depraved man he is, capture you and bend you over this pile of goods to take you long and hard and hot, just the way you both need. You know that within minutes you’ll be succumbing to the full effects of your heat, your body attuned so beautifully to his rut.

You eagerly await your mate's arrival.

You can hear it the moment he catches a whiff of your scent. The low growl has you clenching your thighs, sending your heartbeat galloping. What follows is what makes you want to moan, to give your spot away to him, to bare yourself to your alpha and have him claim you over and over and over again.

The bite mark on your throat pulses as the sound of his belt hits the floor, his weapons soon following. The dull thud of their sheaths are each a throb to your clit. You don’t need to imagine how perfect his body moves as he prowls closer to the door, already knowing that each muscle of his is coiled tight with the same anticipation you’re feeling. It zips down the bond, flooding your body with a pleasurable feeling. 

The closet door cracks wider and you only get a glimpse of those hazel eyes—all pupils with the untamed actions of a rut—before he lunges inside.

It’s tight with the both of you in here. Cassian’s fingers claw at your clothes, and it’s not a tear that can be sewed up like new to be worn another day. No, this is Cassian shredding your clothes into strips, buttons flying off of fabric and clicking against the walls. It’s the delicate lace of your panties he tears off with his teeth, wrapping the remnants around his wrist like he’s won himself a new bracelet. You love that he’s so desperate for you, but he’s being careless, dislodging items in your nest that were perfectly built while he scrambles to expose your body, more than ready to ravage you for this week-long cycle. 

You cry out at the feeling of Cassian’s sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder when you try to shove him off. You’re all too aware of how he’s displacing your pristine nest, the one you hadn’t hardly wanted him in in the first place because of this very reason.

He always destroys it.

“Cassian!” You shout, and only then does it seem to cut through the haze he’s already giving into. He pulls back quicker than an asp, fear a dark ring around his eyes as he stares down at you.

“Did I hurt you, mate?” He questions, frantically looking you over. His fingers trace your skin and your body buzzes in response. But as you look at your nest, now a mere mess of twisted blankets and skewed knick-knacks, your heart plummets and your brows draw together, your eyes prickling with tears.

“No, you didn’t hurt me physically,” you say, throat tight. Cassian frowns, not quite understanding until you gesture to the mess around you. “I know what it’s like to submit to the rut grating through your bones right now,” you speak quietly, enough for him to grasp your feelings. “But you wreck my nest every time you have a rut. Even during my heats. A burrow that is sacred to me, and should be to you too. It’s one of the only places I feel safe—” The other being in his arms.  “—When I’m going through a heat. And I want you there, mate, I need you there, but not if you’re going to ruin my hard work.”

You watch the regret lance his eyes, but before he can say anything, you’re continuing, fighting through the wetness coating your throat, ignoring the wetness coating your thighs.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Cassian leans forward, caressing your cheek. You allow it, lean into it even, but you will not continue with this rut until you feel fully at peace and comfortable to do so. “Please, what can I do?”

“Fix it,” you murmur, almost helplessly. There’s a hollowness to your chest that may be heightened by the effects of your oncoming heat, but right now it feels like you’ve lost something greater than a pile of blankets. You’d feel embarrassed, almost, if you were more clear-minded. “You won’t be fucking me in here until you’re not a threat to its structural integrity.” 

You watch Cassian’s throat bob, his cock twitch at your demands, a pretty pearl of precum making its presence known. You quirk an eyebrow, trying very carefully to keep your face stern, shoving back the teary sensations as you tear your gaze from the sight of his leaking cock.

He likes it when you make demands of him? 

You tuck that thought away for later.

“Of course,” Cassian agrees vehemently, already reaching for the first blanket.

You shuffle out of the way. It’s difficult in the space of the closet, now that you’re trapped inside with your behemoth of an alpha who trapezes around as he begins his work. The air is hot and thick already, your forehead is dewey with sweat. You might be regretting building your nest in the closet sooner rather than later. 

You find yourself wondering if you can convince Cassian to move the entire nest later, if he’ll make it just as perfect as this one.

“And Cassian?” You ask, waiting for him to turn. When you have his full attention, you allow your fingers to drift up your bare stomach to your peaked nipples, pinching and rubbing at them. Cassian growls in response and your cunt clenches at the sound. You nearly tell him to forget it and take you up against the racks of clothes instead. “For every item you perfectly fix, is the number of times we’re going to cum together.”

It’s a futile promise at best. Once the both of you succumb to your respective heat and rut, there will be no counting. There won’t be anything but the primal urge to fuck and breed, the both of you cumming more times than you could even imagine. There have been times when the lust was so consuming, you hardly remember anything besides the pleasure Cassian stoked into you, pumping you so full of his seed your stomach bloated with it. How he fucked you on his knot again and again until he fucked himself into a blacking out.

Your mate growls and nods eagerly. The breath whooshes out of his chest as he turns away, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the pile. You know that he’ll never get your nest back to how you had it, that he hadn’t taken a single glance at your work before crashing into it like a bull in a china shop, but you’re more distracted by the curve of that toned ass on display, his cock hanging heavy between those glorious thighs, dragging over one of the blankets and leaving a line of precum in its wake. You watch, entranced by his strong shoulders and wings, how they glide under his tan skin like butter.

“A little to the left,” you advise when Cassian turns to look at you after placing a discarded sheath in place, an expectant look on his face. You bite your lip to hold in the delightful purr that rages in your veins as he follows your command.

“Like this?”

“Perfect, mate,” you agree, taking one step closer. Your fingers smooth down your body, dipping between your legs because with the way he’s perched on his knees for you, you need some sort of stimulation or you’re going to pounce on him. Cassian’s eyes zero in on the movement, iris’ consumed by the black of his pupil. His nostrils flare at the scent leaking from your thighs.

Cassian begins to work even faster.

“Cassian?” You question when your body plunges right over the edge into want. Your heat slams into you full force, and all you crave is to be laid in that nest of yours, built by both of your hands, and give yourself to your alpha.

He hums, peeking over at you. He’s almost done, almost has it perfect, and then he’s going to be mounting you so fast that you won’t even know what hit you. His cock is leaking all over your nest, eager for your cunt to bury itself home in. All he can think about is how he hopes you don’t mind the mess he’s leaving behind while trying to clean up his other one. 

Every muscle in his body reacts to the scent that’s emanating from you. His cock is thick and hard, swollen and ready. He’s going to knot you within the first two strokes, he can already feel it, can imagine the way your cunt will swallow him eagerly, milking him desperately, latching for a pup. He’ll make it up to you though, he can promise that, because Cassian has days and he can be a very inventive male when he wants to be.

When he blinks the haze from his eyes, pupils finally settling their attention on you, you breathe, “It’s great, alpha. But one thing is missing.” 

Cassian frowns, his thick brows pulling tight in confusion. “What’s that, love?”

“It’s missing me.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. You shriek at his speed, the strength that he uses, wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you back into the nest. 

You land with a breathless laugh that melts into a needy keen when Cassian splays your legs wide for him and licks a fat stripe up your cunt. You both shiver, you at the feeling of his wet tongue, and him at your taste.

“I won’t last,” he admits, but neither of you care when he pumps himself into you in one long stroke. Your body melts into the blankets and pillows beneath you, feeling so full. You could live like this forever, you think, Cassian’s cock buried deep inside of you, the warmth it provides, the pleasure, it’s all too much.

“Me…neither,” you pant, crying out when he hits your cervix. Fuck, he’s going to put a pup in you by the end of the week. Maybe a whole litter. You can feel it this time. “Fuck, Cassian! You feel so good!”

“You feel like heaven, mate,” he growls back. His breath is hot on your throat, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. It lights your body up like a star and your eyes roll into the back of your head, nails scratching down his back as the feeling builds. “You are my heaven. The stars in my sky and the breath in my lungs. You’re—fuck,” he chokes, quickening his thrusts. “You’re fucking mine.”

Cassian’s fingers slide between your bodies as he slams his mouth against yours. He’s devouring you in more ways than one, and when he starts circling his fingers against your throbbing clit—not too hard and not too soft, just fucking perfect like he always does, even when he’s lost in the throes of his heat—you cum.

You gush, even, and then Cassian’s cumming too, releasing with a growl that shakes the house built into the mountain. You wouldn’t be surprised if the noise causes a landslide.

He pulses inside of you, thick, hot ribbons of cum filling you. His knot grows with each pump, with each spurt, until you’re whimpering with overstimulation, writhing against his body. Cassian doesn’t let up, he’s still going, grinding down on you until there are tears in your eyes, until his incessant rubbing onto your clit turns from sensitive to all out wanting again. You chase that orgasm, jerking your hips against his until you’re drowning in the sensations of it again, until you’re drowning in the feeling of his cum stuffing you full.

Cassian watches you with rapt attention. Waits until you’ve calmed. Opened those pretty eyes. Then, does he cradle you in his arms and roll onto his back, letting you rest against his chest to catch your breath. He wipes the hair from your face, brushes the dampness across your forehead and kisses it tenderly, before dipping down to capture your lips sweetly. This is only the first of the orgasms you’ll both share, and it might not have lasted long, but it rocked your world entirely.

You blink up at him sleepily, moan a little when you feel his cock throb with another squirt of cum. 

“Rest now, mate,” he says gently, and the rumble of his voice is a lullaby all its own. “I’ll be keeping you up for many nights to come.”

[weird-is-life]

hey lovie! what about a remus x reader where he sees her asleep in the back of the library one evening on his prefect rounds and he wakes her up. he is more concerned on how long she’s been studying/asleep since it’s so late…on their walk she just walks with him during his rounds because they are just chatty

they both fancy each other but neither of them think the other thinks the same. he walks her back to gryf tower snd he finally says what he’s wanted to say for years

(i hope that makes sense and if ya hate the idea, no problemo lol)

xoxo

Hii lovely🥰 ty for the request. I tried my best, hope this is okay. Warnings: fluff, use of y/n, like one swear word, (0.9k)

Remus has seen you many times before. Either in the common room, halls, dining room, and the most in the library.

Remus always sees you in the library. Sitting quietly more at the back of the room. Either reading some book or doing the assignments for the classes.

So it's no surprise to see you here even now. But it definitely catches him off guard seeing you here so so late. Remus was on the last one of his prefect rounds before heading to bed himself, and he wasn't expecting to see you in the library.

Remus, from a shorter distance, notices that you are asleep. Softly exhaling one breath after another. Something stirs in Remus's heart at the sight of you, but he ignores it.

Remus approaches you, and tries to wake you up as nicely as he can. He doesn't want to scare you. He gently shakes you by your shoulder, and whispers your name a few times.

You rouse from sleep, blinking,  completely baffled by Remus's handsome face.

Remus thinks you are even more cute when you are half asleep. It's not doing any favors to his feelings for you. But he wills those thoughts away, and says, "sorry, y/n. You fell asleep in the library, and it's getting pretty late."

The sleep haze quickly dissappears when you realise where you are. You are up on your feet in a matter of seconds, packing your things away.

"Shit. I'm sorry. I was reading, and-and I must have fallen asleep," you explain in a mild panic. You would be in a lot of trouble if it was anybody else other than Remus that had found you here. Students aren't allowed out of their dorms this late at night.

"It's alright," Remus reassures you with a warm smile," I've done that so many times. I can't even count how many times James or Sirius had to walk down here to retrieve me."

"Really?" you giggle quietly, still very much sleepy and a little stressed.

"Yeah, really," Remus chuckles, too. "Now c'mon, let's get you to your dorm. I'll walk you there. Well, that is if you don't mind."

You shake your head. Indicating that you don't mind at all. Your cheeks go pretty pink as Remus and you start to walk towards the dorms.

You've always thought that Remus was so handsome, and so so smart. You'd never done anything about your crush, of course. Too scared to say anything. But that doesn't mean you haven't been admiring him. You have just-........from afar.

"Why were you in the library so late?" Remus asks to fill in the awkward quiet between you. And also he's a bit worried about you staying there until so late.

"Just studying, I couldn't figure out one assignment," you sigh. You still haven't figured it out, even if you stayed in the library for so many hours.

"The one for the potions?"

"Yeah," you admit in defeat," I've read everything I possibly could, but still i didn't find the answer."

Remus gives you a hesitant smile. You two are just a few steps from the dorms. You were walking too long in the awkward silence, and now the flowing conversation is about to end.

"I can give you the answer. I'll give it to you right away if you give me a second to look for it in my room," Remus instantly offers.

He's spent good few hours trying to find the answer too, so he understands how frustrating it can get. So he's very willing to give you the answer just so you don't go to bed with that on your mind. And also because he likes you, like a lot, and he would give you literally anything if you'd asked for it. He's down that bad for you.

"Really? I would really appreciate it, Remus," you say, happy about his help. You can't even think of how you could possibly thank him for it.

"Just give me a second," he turns towards his dorm, but he suddenly freezes halfway to the door.

Remus abruptly gets a better idea or well it depends on how well it goes. He just can't help his feelings for you any longer, and he needs to know what you feel, too. Even if he may get rejected, and end up with a broken heart.

Remus slowly turns around to face you again, a shy smile on his face.

"Or-r," he starts," we could go to Hogsmeade during the weekend, and I could explain it to you there. With something nice to eat and drink." Remus blurts it out in one breath.

Your eyes go very wide. Is Remus Lupin asking you out on a date or are you still very much asleep in the library, dreaming of this moment?

"L-like a date?" you sheepishly ask, blushing, and looking everywhere but him after your question.

"Yes. Exactly like a date." Remus states, looking nervous and hopeful at the same time.

You look up at him with a smile, you can't really believe that this is happening, " I think, I'd love that."

"Really?" Remus questions happily.

"Yes, really," you nod your head, sending a reassuring smile his way.

"Great. I can't wait," he tells you with a visible excitement.

"Me too," you admit bashfully.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow. We can sort out the time then. Goodnight, y/n," Remus says, giving you one more soft smile of his.

"Yes, tomorrow then. Goodnight to you too, Remus," you wave him goodbye, and quickly dissappear into your dorm before you can collapse on the spot from the way your legs have turned to jello.

You think you can hear pretty loud cheers of the Marauders as you head to change into your pyjamas. A shy giggle escapes your mouth when you think about Remus telling his best mates about your date, and them being so happy about it.

[ghsface]

Not sure if you are taking request but can we get an angst with Matt where like reader and him are dating for years but recently comments have been getting to her or people have been following her home and eventually she decideds to break up with Matt but Matt takes things to in his hands where he’s tells ppl to stop and they get back together?(Lol sorry if it didn’t make sense but thank you)

𝜗𝜚 new messege .ᐟ.ᐟ

Hey gorgeous, I really liked this idea, I hope you like it too.

You are the only thing I want - Matt Sturniolo

Sumary: You and Matt had a secret relationship and when you decide to make it public everything goes wrong...

Warnings: angst hate messages towards reader, this is just angst with a happy ending

A/n: Leave me ideas to write in my inbox because I'm running out of ideas. I'm sorry if something is misspelled or not understood. My first language is not English. By the way, what do you think of my new theme, in my opinion, it's very cute like the baby pink and light brown. 🩷🧸

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It had been exactly fourteen months since the first time you and Matt kissed. You hadn't imagined then how important he would become in your life, nor that being with him would be so complicated. Because, although you adored each other and the bond between you grew every day, that relationship had to be kept secret. It was a mutual decision, made for practical reasons. At first, the thrill of secrecy made everything more exciting. But now, you both felt exhausted.

You had spent too many nights talking secretly in the car, dates arranged down to the last detail so as not to be seen, or moments of solitude where, instead of shouting to the world how much you loved each other, you had to hide it like a forbidden secret. The situation was starting to weigh on you.

That night, you were on the couch at Matt's house. He was holding you, and your head was resting on his shoulder while you felt his fingers playing with the strands of your hair.

"Aren't you tired of this?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence.

You raised your head and looked at him, searching his eyes for what he really wanted to say.

"What are you talking about?"

"About having to hide… about not being able to tell anyone how amazing you are." Matt smiled, but his eyes reflected a sadness that you shared.

"Of course I'm tired. Sometimes I wish we could be a normal couple".

"Then let's do it", he suggested, giving your hand a squeeze. "Let's make it public. I don't care what others say. I want to be with you, and I want everyone to know it."

The idea made you feel butterflies in your stomach. The love you had for Matt was bigger than any fear, and the fact that he was willing to share your relationship with his fans made you feel special. You decided to announce it on social media.

When Matt uploaded the first photo of the two of you together, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The image showed an intimate moment, a selfie of the two smiling on the beach, with the sunset in the background. The caption was simple but powerful: “Over a year together, and we’re just getting started.”

For the first few hours, the response was overwhelmingly positive. There were comments from fans congratulating and supporting them: “They look beautiful together,” “Finally someone makes Matt happy as he deserves,” “What a great couple they make!”

But over time, other types of messages began to appear. “Her? Is he really with her?”, “She’s not enough for him,” “She’s only with him for fame, I’m sure she’ll use him to become famous,” “Poor Matt, he deserves someone better.”

At first, you tried not to take them seriously. But every time you checked your phone, more of those comments appeared. There were people criticizing your appearance: “She’s too basic for someone like him,” “She’s not even pretty, how dare she date Matt?”, “Matt deserves someone more attractive.”

The words cut you deeply. You knew you shouldn’t let those comments affect you, but you couldn’t stop the doubts from starting to poison your mind. Every time you looked in the mirror, you started to see those flaws that others mentioned. Insecurity began to invade you in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

Matt tried to comfort you whenever he noticed you looking down. Sometimes, during the night, he would catch you reading the comments on your phone, and he would simply take the phone away from you and hold you, whispering that he loved you and that was all that mattered.

“You don’t need to listen to those people, babe,” he said, looking at you with a sincere expression. “They don’t know anything about you, they don’t know how amazing you are.”

The comments didn’t stop, though. Every day they became crueler and crueler. Rumors began to circulate suggesting that you were only with Matt to gain followers, or that you were using his fame to make yourself known. People commented on every aspect of your life, from how you dressed to how you looked without makeup. There were those who said things like, “It’s obvious that she dresses like that to get attention, can’t she dress up better?” or “She should thank Matt for giving her a chance, she’s just an ordinary girl.”

At some point, comments were no longer the only thing. People started following you home, taking photos of you without your permission, and even trying to get close to you to ask you invasive questions. You felt watched and judged at every turn, and little by little, you started to believe that you weren't enough, that maybe all those people were right.

The pressure began to be unbearable. Your self-esteem plummeted, and every time you looked in the mirror, you saw someone who, according to the world, wasn’t enough. Matt tried to cheer you up, to remind you how much he loved you, but you couldn’t stand it anymore.

One night, after one of your most difficult conversations, you asked him to meet you. Matt came over to your house, and as soon as you saw him, he knew something was wrong. He stared at you in silence as you searched for the words to say to him.

“Matt… I can’t do this anymore,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

“What are you saying?” he asked, frowning, clearly worried.

“I can’t be in this relationship anymore. The pressure, the comments… they’re tearing me apart. I can’t take it anymore.

Matt looked at you, unable to process what you were saying. He was trying to understand, but the pain in your eyes made it clear to him that you were really hurt.

“But… I love you, and I don’t care what other people think. They don’t understand what we have.”

“I know, Matt. I know you love me, but I can’t go on like this. I’m losing myself in all of this.” It's getting harder and harder to get up and pretend everything is okay.

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back your tears. “Matt… I can’t keep going like this. I can’t handle the pressure, the comments, the people following me everywhere. I feel like I’m losing myself, and I don’t want to drag you into this. I think… I think it’s best that we break up.”

The goodbye was hard and heartbreaking for both of us. In the days that followed, Matt stayed away from social media, not mentioning anything about what had happened. He isolated himself, trying to understand how the love of his life had to walk away because of the cruelty of others.

Weeks went by as you tried to get over the situation, even though you felt empty. However, one afternoon, while you were checking your social media, you noticed a post from Matt that surprised you.

It was a photo of you and him that Nick had taken, and the message was clear and direct: “I don't give a shit what others say about my girlfriend. I'm with her because I love her, and that's never going to change.”

Matt's public statement was not only a message to his fans, but a promise that he was willing to stand up for what they had. Feeling a torrent of emotions, you decided to call him. When he answered, his voice trembled with emotion.

"I can't go on without you" he said quietly, while you tried to hold back your tears.

"Me neither, Matt… I love you."

That night, they met again, and between tears and hugs, they knew that this time there would be nothing and no one that could separate.

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