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keeryhours · 8 days ago

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zombie movies & first kisses - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x female Henderson! reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

Dustin thinks Steve and his sister would make a great couple. They’re both obsessed with each other, they just don’t know it. They just need a little push.

Just first date fluff :)

Warnings:

None, just Steve fluff, kissing, zombie movie references

Word Count: 3,321

A/N:

Excited to get my first Steve story posted! Joe Keery holds my heart in every role. I hope you enjoy this little fluffy story! Requests are open.

—

“She does not like me.” Steve sighed, scooping the mint chocolate chip ice cream and placing it on the waffle cone. He handed the ice cream to the waiting customer with a forced smile.

“She totally does,” Dustin said with full confidence as he leaned against the counter, watching Steve work. “She has Mrs. Harrington doodled all over her notebooks. I’ve seen them in her room.”

Steve laughed. “For some reason I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie about that?” Dustin asked, throwing his hands in the air. “You think I haven’t snooped in her room to find all the embarrassing stuff she writes about?”

“It’s not that I doubt your level of nosiness,” Steve said, moving on to helping the next customer. “I just think you’re lying because you want me to embarrass myself by asking your sister out.”

“Oh my god,” Dustin groaned, getting frustrated with his older friend. “I am not trying to embarrass you. She likes you. You’re practically obsessed with her. You’re both obsessed with each other, really. But neither of you will make a move!”

Steve considered his words as he took another order. “You’re not messing with me? You actually think she’s into me?”

“Dude, I know she’s into you. Just ask her. She might pass out on the spot, but she’ll say yes when she wakes up.”

Steve laughed. “Okay, okay. Maybe when I’m not in this stupid uniform, though.”

Dustin asked Steve for a ride home after he and Robin got off work. Steve agreed, but took the time to change out of his Scoops Ahoy uniform and into a pair of jeans and a shirt with the first button undone before he left.

Steve’s mind was racing as he drove towards the Henderson house, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel nervously. Dustin didn’t miss it, watching his friend with a smile on his face.

When they pulled up outside of the house, Steve was relieved to see Dustin’s mom wasn’t home. She could be a little overbearing.

Steve walked with Dustin up to the front door of the house, following him inside as he let himself in.

You were lounging in the living room, dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a rainbow t shirt that clung to your body in just the right way. Steve gulped when he saw you, his heart rate picking up.

“Hey, sis,” Dustin greeted you, a big dumb grin on his face.

You looked up from the TV, a shy smile spreading across your lips as soon as you saw Steve. You worried all of a sudden that you should have picked a cuter outfit, should have done your makeup.

“Hey,” you greeted your brother. “Hi, Steve.”

Steve smiled at you, and you felt your heart flutter in your chest at the sight of it. He was just so cute, you could hardly handle being around him.

“I’m going to get started on my homework,” Dustin announced before scurrying out of the room before either of you had the chance to say anything. You briefly thought about how it was summer and he didn’t have any homework, but Dustin was always up to something weird so you just brushed it off.

Steve stood there awkwardly for a few minutes before he slowly walked closer. “Uh, how have you been?” he finally asked.

“Good,” you answered. “I’ve been working at the movie theater for the summer.”

“Oh, cool!” Steve said, and he seemed genuinely interested. “Do you, uh…like it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” you said. It was pretty cool as far as jobs go, you got to see free movies whenever you wanted and your coworkers were fun. “How’s Scoops Ahoy?”

Steve felt embarrassed at the mere thought of you seeing him in his uniform. “Oh, it’s fine. Free ice cream, you know.”

“That does sound nice,” you said, smiling at him. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling down at his feet. “Hey, uh, actually,” he began, his eyes moving back up to meet yours, “I wanted to ask you something?”

“What’s up?” you asked, looking at him curiously.

Steve looked nervous, which wasn’t something you had seen very much from him. “Um, I was just wondering, you know…if you’d want to go out with me this weekend?”

Your eyes went wide at his question. “Like- like a date?”

Steve smiled at that - you weren’t outright rejecting him, and you’re just so cute. “Yeah. I was thinking like a date.”

You blushed then, looking down for a minute before you met his gaze again. “Sure. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Steve’s smile grew. “Yeah? How about Friday night? At 7?”

“Sounds good,” you answered, butterflies in your stomach already.

“Well, I’ll see you then,” Steve said, the grin staying on his lips as he turned and walked back towards the front door. “Later!” he called as if both to you and Dustin, before he was out the door.

You waited a full minute after he left before you grabbed a pillow from the couch and pressed your face into it, screaming and kicking your feet.

Dustin came running into the living room.

“Did he do it???”

—

When Friday rolled around, you spent the entire day freaking out about the date. You started getting ready early in the day, starting with a shower, where you took the time to thoroughly shave, not missing a single spot. You dried your hair afterwards and spent ages styling it until it laid just right. You went with a more natural makeup look, which took a lot more time than it looks like. You finally dressed in a short brown skirt and white top.

Dustin was excited for your date with Steve, but even he was at his limit by the time you got ready. He was sick of you staring at yourself in the mirror and asking his opinion on a million different outfit combinations.

When the doorbell rang, you were still looking in the mirror, making last minute touches to your appearance. Dustin answered the door, a huge grin on his face.

Steve stood there, looking nervous and handsome. He wore a button down shirt and jeans, his hair styled perfectly. He held a bouquet of roses in his hand. Dustin just looked at him with that dopey smile on his face.

“Hey,” Steve greeted. “Is your sister ready?”

“Yeah,” Dustin answered, moving out of the way to let Steve inside. “She’s been done for at least an hour already but she won’t stop looking at herself in the mirror.”

Dustin yelled for you as he followed Steve into the living room. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you took one last look in the mirror before leaving your room.

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat when he saw you - you always had that kind of effect on him, but you looked especially beautiful tonight.

Steve told you so as you approached, and you smiled and blushed as you took the bouquet from his hand. Your fingers brushed against his as you took it, and it sent jolts of electricity through your whole body.

You brought the flowers to your nose, smelling them - they smelled lovely, fresh - before you said, “I should go get these in some water,” and scurried off to the kitchen.

Steve could hear the sound of water running moments later, and Dustin would not stop smiling at him like a crazy person. You were back before they knew it, smoothing down a piece of your hair as you walked.

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, holding out his arm for you.

You smiled as you linked your arm with his, and then the two of you were headed towards the door.

“You kids have fun! Don’t do anything too crazy!” Dustin called after you.

You rolled your eyes but laughed as you left the house. Steve smiled and shook his head, leading you towards his car parked against the road.

He opened the passenger door for you, and you smiled at him as you climbed in. You buckled your seatbelt as he walked around the front of the car, and you couldn’t help but admire just how handsome he was as he walked in front of you.

He climbed into the driver’s seat next to you, giving you a quick smile before he got himself buckled and started the car. He turned some music on, quiet enough that you could talk over it.

“So, where are we going?” you asked him as he pulled onto the road and began driving.

“I was thinking we could grab something to eat and see a movie? That is if you’re not tired of movies, working at the theater and all,” he said, suddenly second guessing his choice of a date.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of movies,” you said, reassuring him. “I actually haven’t even seen one in a while.”

Steve smiled, your words making him feel better. “Well, good. I thought we’d see the movie first so we could talk about it over dinner.”

You smiled at the thought he’d put into this, the butterflies in your stomach going crazy. You resisted the urge to reach out and touch his hair.

The drive to the theater wasn’t long, its proximity to the house was a factor in you applying there in the first place since you didn’t have a car yet. Steve pulled into a parking spot, killing the engine and turning to you.

“We have options,” he said, before he began listing all the different movies playing.

“Day of the Dead!” you exclaimed when that option came out of his mouth. You didn’t need to hear any more. “I’ve been dying to see that one.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah? You’re into horror movies?”

“They’re my favorite,” you said, which made his smile grow wider.

“That’s cool,” he said genuinely, and then he was climbing out of the car, quickly jogging to your side to open your door before you could do it yourself. You couldn’t help but giggle at his effort. He was being so cute, a total gentleman.

“Plus I can hold you if you get scared,” he said, grin still on his lips as you took his hand and climbed out of the car. “Or you can hold me if I get scared.”

You laughed, which only made him smile bigger.

The two of you walked towards the ticket counter, and Steve bought and paid for your tickets. Your friend and coworker, Alice, was working the ticket counter, and she gave you a sly grin as she handed the tickets over.

“Have fun, you two,” she said, with an obvious double meaning to her words. You blushed, knowing there would be questions at work. Steve didn’t miss the teasing, either.

He encouraged you to pick whatever you wanted from concessions. You got a large popcorn to share, you each got a soda, and you both picked out your favorite candies. You weren’t sure if he was going to be paying, so you brought money with you, but Steve didn’t even hesitate to pay for everything himself.

Steve had the huge tub of popcorn and a million snacks balanced in his arms as you carried the two drinks to the theater. You were relieved that it wasn’t crowded, and you found two seats together towards the back that gave you privacy and had a great view of the screen.

You got settled next to each other, drinks in the cup holders and snacks distributed between you, and you realized just how close he was. His knee brushed against yours, the rough feeling of his jeans against your bare skin sending chills through your body.

The movie began, and you shared the popcorn, your hands brushing together whenever you’d reach for some at the same time. It would send a jolt through your body, and the way his eyes would dart to yours made your heart speed up.

You were loving the movie, it was just as good as you had hoped. About halfway through, Steve shifts closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but it makes you smile, and you shift further into his embrace, which makes him squeeze your shoulder.

You have an even better time watching the movie snuggled up against Steve’s side. You take in just how good he smells, something you had never thought about before, but of course he was perfect in every way.

By the end of the movie, your nerves had gone, comforted by the feeling of being pressed up against Steve. It felt right, like it was where you had always belonged.

“What did you think?” Steve asked as the credits rolled and the lights came back on in the theater. He gathered up the trash from your snacks.

“I loved it,” you answered honestly, standing as he did. “The special effects were so cool.”

“Definitely,” Steve agreed with you. “That part where they pulled that guy apart was crazy.”

The two of you left the theater, dropping your trash in the can on the way out. As you walked together out of the building, Steve reached down and grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers. It surprised you, but you certainly didn’t mind, holding his hand back and smiling to yourself.

Steve opened the door for you again before he climbed in on his side. You had been chatting about the movie since it ended, both of you having enjoyed it a lot.

Steve began driving again. “What are you in the mood to eat? I had somewhere in mind, but if you want something specific, we could go anywhere…”

“I’m sure whatever you picked out is perfect,” you gripped his hand over the center console, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He smiled back at you. He loved the way you always put him at ease, even when he was so nervous about impressing you.

Steve pulled into the parking lot of a steakhouse. Not too fancy, but not super casual either. Despite the theater snacks, you felt your stomach grumbling at the idea of getting something good to eat.

“They have all kinds of stuff here, if you’re not into steak,” Steve said quickly as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

“I’m a big fan of steak,” you laughed. You were already thinking about what you’d order.

You waited for Steve to come around this time because you knew he’d want to open your door for you. He helped you out again, and the two of you walked hand in hand into the restaurant.

The hostess greeted you both with a big smile. “Just 2?” she asked, which Steve confirmed. She led you to a booth, giving you both a menu.

“This place is nice,” you complimented as you opened up your menu, examining the many options.

“Yeah, I’ve been here with my parents a few times, it’s good,” he said, looking over his own menu before he looked at you again, smiling. “Never brought a girl here, though.”

Knowing you were the first girl he’d brought on a date here made you feel something. You didn’t consider yourself to be a jealous person, but you had been jealous when Steve dated Nancy. You didn’t love the idea of Steve with other girls, so the knowledge that this was new territory for him too made you smile.

Your waiter came by and took your drink orders. You looked over the menu for a while longer before you were satisfied you knew what you wanted.

You were in a deep discussion about the movie when the waiter came back to take your orders. You ordered a steak, of course, with fries. Steve ordered the same thing, shooting you a smirk.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” Steve complimented when your plates were placed in front of you. “I think I already said that tonight, but I couldn’t tell you enough times.”

You blushed as you looked down at your food. “Thank you,” you said. “You look really handsome. I mean, you always do.”

Steve smiled bigger at that, beginning to cut up his steak. “I always do, huh?”

Your blush grew deeper. You didn’t mean to make it sound like you had been obsessed with him, even though you have.

“You always look beautiful,” he added softly.

That made your heart flutter in your chest. He had noticed you. You always thought he didn’t know you existed.

You ate together, talking about the movie, other movies you liked, how your summers had been going, all kinds of things. Steve made you laugh a lot. He was so naturally funny, and he’d really become more of himself since school ended. He didn’t care so much about being popular and impressing his friends and looking cool. He just cared about being authentic.

When dinner was over, Steve got the check before you even had a chance to see how much it was. You offered to pay half, but he shut you down quickly.

Back in the car, he drove with one hand, intertwining his free hand with yours over the center console. You sang along to music together on the way home, and you thought this may have been the best night of your life so far.

Steve pulled up outside your house, turning the car off.

“I really had an amazing time,” he said, turning to look at you. “You’re so great to spend time with.”

You smiled at him, your cheeks heating. “I had an amazing time too, Steve.”

Steve grinned at you. He placed a hand gently on your cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin there.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen…” he mumbled, almost as if only to himself.

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t think he could have possibly meant it, but his face and eyes show only sincerity. It makes your heart thump harder in your chest as you look into his eyes.

He leaned in, slowly, giving you ample time to push him away. You don’t, of course. You never realized how kissable his lips were until you were this close.

His lips pressed against yours, and they felt so soft. You practically melted into his kiss, your lips moving against his as you kissed him back eagerly. He led the kiss, being more experienced than you were, you gladly let him.

You could have kissed him all night, you think, but your mom was home now and she’d be coming out to check on you if you lingered in the car for too long.

Steve finally pulled away, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. His thumb traced over your lips, wet from his kisses.

“I want to see you again,” he said, his eyes finally moving from your lips back up to your eyes. “Soon.”

“I’d like that,” you said. You were surprised how weak your voice sounded, you cleared your throat.

“Are you free tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow?” you raised your eyebrows. “Uh…yeah. I’m off work tomorrow, too.”

Steve smiled. “Good. Me too. I’ll come pick you up at around 12, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you smiled.

Steve opened your door for you one last time before he walked you to your front door. He leaned in and placed one more quick kiss to your lips. “See you tomorrow,” he said.

“See you tomorrow,” you echoed back to him, and then you let yourself into the house, giving him a little wave as he turned to walk back to his car.

You sighed as you entered the house, feeling like you’d been holding your breath all evening. You couldn’t wipe the dreamy grin off your face.

The living room lamp turning on and Dustin speaking nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Tell me everything.”

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jburrgf · 1 month ago

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Easily.

Don’t you tell me it wasn’t mean to be, call it quits, call it destiny. Just because it won’t come easily, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.

pairing: joe burrow x reader

summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship, reunion, patient x nurse, first love, a lot of fluff

description: after playing with his nephews, joe strained his ankle and ran to the ER. but he didn’t though he was going to meet his childhood best friend there.

—————————————

It was past midnight, the time when the world outside the hospital walls seemed to stand still. Inside, though, it was a different story. The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly above me as I made my way down the hallway of the ER. My feet ached, the usual dull throb that comes after ten hours on your feet, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to. Nights like this were routine, predictable even, and I had learned to find comfort in the chaos.

I adjusted my stethoscope and glanced at the clock above the nurse’s station—1:37 AM. Still hours to go. The hum of monitors and the occasional beeping of machines filled the space, blending into the background noise I’d grown accustomed to over the years. My shift had been steady, a couple of minor accidents, a handful of routine check-ups, nothing too serious. Until the doors of the ER flew open, and everything changed.

I didn’t look up right away, too focused on updating a patient’s chart, but the sudden rush of voices—urgent, yet not panicked—caught my attention. I turned to see two nurse helping a patient to get on a stretcher, their faces set in calm determination. One of them was giving a brief rundown to the admitting nurse.

“Thirty minutes ago, pickup football game. Possible sprained ankle, maybe a mild concussion, conscious the whole time, though.”

I barely glanced at the patient on the stretcher at first, but then something made me pause. The man lying there was in a football jersey, but it wasn’t the jersey that gave me pause—it was his face. He had one hand pressed against his head, his eyes half-closed in obvious discomfort. But it wasn’t the injury that had my heart skipping a beat. It was him.

Joe Burrow.

The name echoed in my mind before I could stop it. Joe Burrow, Joey, my childhood friend, the boy who lived down the street, the one I used to spend all my summer afternoons with before life drifted us apart. The boy who had grown into one of the NFL’s brightest stars.

And now, apparently, my patient.

I blinked, trying to process the scene in front of me. Joe Burrow, here, in my ER, in the middle of the night, looking very different from the kid I used to race bikes with down the block.

"Y/N, can you take this one?" The nurse's voice broke through my daze, and I nodded, my training kicking in despite the sudden rush of memories swirling in my mind.

I approached the stretcher, my steps slower than usual, my mind still catching up with the present. Joe hadn’t noticed me yet. He was too busy wincing as one of the paramedics adjusted the ice pack on his ankle. My hands trembled slightly as I picked up his chart, scanning it quickly.

“Joe Burrow,” I said softly, almost testing the name out loud to see if it would break the spell of disbelief hanging over me.

At the sound of my voice, his head turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes were unfocused, likely from the mild concussion they suspected. But then his gaze sharpened, recognition flickering in his eyes. He blinked, then squinted, as if trying to place me, and I saw the exact moment it clicked.

“Y/N?” His voice was rough, slightly hoarse from exertion, but there was a hint of surprise there, maybe even something softer—something familiar.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, professional, even though my heart was doing somersaults in my chest. “Looks like you’ve had quite the night.”

He let out a short, breathy laugh, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a small smile despite the pain etched across his face. “You could say that.”

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the years between us hanging in the air like something tangible. It felt like an eternity since we’d last seen each other, though in reality, it had only been... What, ten years? Maybe more? The boy I remembered was long gone, replaced by the man lying in front of me — taller, broader, more grown-up in every way. But the spark in his eyes was the same, that playful glint that always used to get us into trouble.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the lingering sense of nostalgia. “Let’s get you checked out. You said you were playing football?”

“Yeah, with my nephews,” Joe replied, wincing again as he shifted on the stretcher. “Thought I’d show them a few moves, but I guess I got a little too into it.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” I teased, grabbing the clipboard to make notes. “Still trying to prove you’re the toughest one out there?”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Some things don’t change.”

As I moved to assess his injury, my hands were steady, but my mind raced with questions. How had he ended up here, in this hospital, on this night? And how had we managed to go so long without crossing paths again? Life had taken us in such different directions, but in this moment, it felt like the universe had pushed us back together.

“Alright,” I said, snapping back to the present. “Let’s take a look at that ankle.”

I knelt down beside the stretcher to examine his ankle. The swelling was already visible, and the skin around it was starting to turn a soft shade of purple. It didn’t seem like anything too serious, but given the hit to his head, he’d probably need to stay overnight for observation. My fingers brushed against his skin as I checked for tenderness, and I couldn’t help but notice how much he’d changed. Stronger, tougher than the lanky boy I remembered, but still the same person, somewhere underneath all that.

“This looks like a sprain,” I said, grabbing an Ace bandage from the tray beside me. “We’ll get you some crutches and probably keep you here for a bit to monitor your head injury. How does your head feel? Any dizziness or nausea?”

He grimaced slightly. “Just a headache. Nothing too bad, though. I’ve had worse hits.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like I should be more worried about your career than this injury.”

His laugh was soft, but it was there. “Maybe, but I think I can survive a game with some six-year-olds.”

I wrapped the bandage around his ankle carefully, trying not to let my hands shake. It was bizarre how easily we fell into conversation, even after all these years. We’d lost so much time, and yet it felt oddly natural to be here with him, even if it was under the fluorescent lights of an emergency room.

Once I finished wrapping his ankle, I stood up and met his eyes again. There was a question in them, unspoken but heavy in the silence that followed.

“So…” Joe began slowly, his voice quieter now, as if we were stepping into more uncertain territory. “How long has it been?”

“Since we last saw each other?” I asked, tilting my head as I thought back. “I don’t know… over ten years, I think.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He shifted his weight slightly, sitting up more on the stretcher. “I meant to stay in touch, you know. Things just got… crazy.”

I could see the apology in his eyes, though he didn’t say the words outright. And I understood. Life had a way of sweeping you up, pulling you in directions you never saw coming. He had his NFL career, the spotlight, the pressure. I had my nursing career, the long hours, the exhaustion that came with it. Still, there was a small part of me that wondered how different things might have been if we’d made more of an effort. If I had.

“Yeah,” I said, offering him a small smile. “Life does that.”

There was a beat of silence, not uncomfortable but reflective. We were both thinking about the past, the what-ifs and the roads we didn’t take. But before I could dwell on it too long, Joe spoke up again, breaking the tension.

“You look good,” he said, his tone genuine but light. “Not much has changed. Except the scrubs, maybe.”

I laughed softly, grateful for the shift in conversation. “I could say the same about you. Except maybe… all of this,” I gestured vaguely to him—the athletic build, the worn jersey, the presence that came with someone used to being in the spotlight.

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed a little,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “But you know, underneath all of this, I’m still the same guy who used to lose every bike race to you.”

I smirked. “Oh, I remember. You hated losing.”

“I still do.” His eyes sparkled with that playful glint I recognized so well.

We fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, talking about everything and nothing as I finished up his assessment. It was strange how easy it was, how natural it felt to slip back into the banter we used to share. I’d always liked that about Joe—he made you feel at ease, like no matter how much time passed, nothing between us had really changed.

As I finished updating his chart, the doctor on call came over to check him out, confirming what I’d suspected: Joe would need to stay overnight for observation, just to be safe. I told him I’d come back once I was done with my rounds, but I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked away.

[…]

Couple hours passed, the usual rhythm of the ER taking over once again. But every now and then, I found my thoughts drifting back to Joe. He was resting in one of the private rooms now, probably bored out of his mind. And for some reason, I felt compelled to check on him, even though I knew he didn’t really need me. It was something about seeing him again—after all this time, after all we’d been through separately—that made me want to stay close, to not let this second chance slip away.

By the time I finally had a break, it was close to 4 AM. The hospital had quieted down, the late-night lull settling in. I made my way back to Joe’s room, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like to admit. I told myself it was just a routine check-up, nothing more. But deep down, I knew it was more than that.

When I pushed open the door, Joe was awake, staring at the ceiling, his expression lost in thought. His head turned at the sound of my entrance, and a small smile crossed his lips when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up slightly. “Back to check on me again?”

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Can’t leave you alone for too long. Who knows what kind of trouble you’ll get into.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N. I mean it.”

I shrugged, trying to keep things light, but there was something about the way he said it that made my chest tighten just a little. “Just doing my job.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he was trying to figure something out. “It’s been good seeing you again. I didn’t think I’d run into you like this, but… I’m glad I did.”

“Me too,” I admitted, my voice quieter now. The air between us felt heavier, like there was more to be said, but neither of us knew exactly how to say it.

For a while, we just talked—about life, work, the things that had happened since we last saw each other. Joe opened up about the pressures of being in the NFL, how sometimes it felt like everything was spinning too fast and he couldn’t slow it down. I shared a little about my life too, about how nursing had become my world and how hard it was to balance that with anything else. We were both a little vulnerable, a little raw in the way you could only be when the rest of the world was asleep and you were left with nothing but your thoughts and the quiet of the night.

The conversation between us flowed easily, like slipping back into a comfortable rhythm. There was something about talking to Joe in the middle of the night, the world outside the hospital walls so still, that made the years between us seem to melt away. It was like we were kids again, sitting on the porch steps after a long day of playing outside, just talking about anything and everything.

“So, you stayed in Cincinnati?” Joe asked, shifting on the hospital bed to sit up more comfortably.

I nodded. “Yeah, never really left. Got into nursing school here and stuck around. I like the pace of it. My family’s here, too.”

He smiled softly. “It’s good that you stayed close to them. I’ve missed a lot of that, being away.”

I could hear the hint of longing in his voice, the weight of the sacrifices he’d made for his career. Joe had always been focused, even when we were kids. When he said he was going to be a football player, I believed him because he believed it with his whole heart. But I could see now, in his eyes, that the road had taken a toll.

“You’re always traveling, huh?” I asked, curious.

“Yeah, pretty much,” he replied. “It’s part of the job, but it gets lonely sometimes. The only time I get back home is for the off-season, and even then, it’s not much.

I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. He was living the dream, the one we’d all seen coming, but it was clear there was a price. I hadn’t thought much about that before, what his life must be like now. To everyone else, he was Joe Burrow, NFL star, the guy who won championships. But sitting here, under the soft glow of the hospital room lights, he just seemed like the same boy I used to know—the one who liked backyard football and riding bikes through the neighborhood.

“It’s not easy, is it?” I asked softly, sensing the exhaustion behind his smile. “Being Joe Burrow.”

He looked at me, his eyes locking on mine, and for a moment, I saw something vulnerable there—something real. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as he touched the sore spot on his head.

“It’s not always what people think,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Football’s everything to me. But there’s so much more that comes with it—the pressure, the expectations. Sometimes it feels like I’m always on. Like I can’t just...be.”

His words hung in the air between us, raw and unguarded. I hadn’t expected him to open up like this, but maybe that’s what the night did to people. Maybe it made us feel safe enough to say the things we wouldn’t admit in the daylight.

“I get that,” I said after a beat. “In a different way, I mean. Being a nurse… it’s all-consuming sometimes. I see my family when I can, but I’m always here, always on call. You start to lose parts of yourself, you know?”

Joe nodded, his eyes softening as he listened. “Yeah. It’s like you give so much of yourself to what you do that there’s not much left for anything else.”

I swallowed, realizing how true that was for both of us. We’d grown up chasing different dreams, but somehow, we’d both ended up feeling the same way—exhausted, a little lost, trying to figure out how to balance it all.

Silence fell between us for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that comes when two people are just...understanding each other. No need for words, just a shared recognition of something deeper.

I laughed softly, and the tension between us seemed to ease a little. It was strange how easy it was to be around him again, like no time had passed at all. But there was also something new between us now—something unspoken but very real.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” he said again, his voice quieter this time, more serious. “I don’t know if I said that already, but... I mean it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, meeting his gaze. “It’s my job, after all.”

Joe shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. “No, I mean... thanks for being here. I needed this. More than I realized.”

The quiet of the night wrapped around us, like the world outside had fallen away and left just the two of us in this small, dimly lit room. I sat down on the edge of the chair beside Joe’s bed, my mind still buzzing with everything we’d talked about—the years that had passed, the memories we shared, and the things we’d never said.

I watched him for a moment, noting the way his face softened when he wasn’t wearing that confident, composed mask that the public always saw. He looked more like the boy I used to know, the one who’d always been up for an adventure, always quick with a joke or a grin. But now, there was a weight behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before, a heaviness that came from carrying the expectations of an entire city on his shoulders.

“How do you do it?” I asked quietly, my voice almost a whisper in the stillness of the room.

Joe’s brow furrowed, and he turned his head to look at me. “Do what?”

“Handle the pressure,” I said, gesturing vaguely to him, to the life he lived now. “Everyone watching you, expecting so much from you all the time. Doesn’t it get overwhelming?”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. It does.” His voice was low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t used to admitting that to anyone. “I mean, I love the game. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. But sometimes, it feels like it’s all moving so fast, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

I nodded, understanding more than I thought I would. It wasn’t the same as the pressures he faced, but I knew what it felt like to be stretched thin, to feel like there was never enough time or energy to meet everyone’s expectations.

“There are moments,” he continued, “when I think back to when we were kids, and everything was just… easier, you know? No pressure, no cameras, no one expecting anything from me except to show up and play. It felt simple back then.”

I smiled at the memory, my mind drifting back to those endless summer days when we’d race our bikes down the street or spend hours at the park, just the two of us against the world. “Yeah, it was simpler. We didn’t have a care in the world.”

Joe looked at me, something softer in his gaze now. “You know, I’ve thought about you a lot over the years.”

That caught me off guard. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat at the unexpected confession. “You have?”

He nodded, his eyes searching mine. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve kept up with you a little, here and there, through social media and stuff. But it wasn’t the same. I always wondered what happened—why we lost touch.”

I shifted in my seat, feeling a small pang of guilt. “I wondered the same thing sometimes. Life just got in the way, I guess.”

Joe smiled, but there was a sadness to it. “Yeah. But it’s good to see you now. Even if I had to get knocked out by a bunch of kids to do it.” He was quiet for a moment, like he was working up the courage to say something. Then, his voice dropped even lower, almost like he was afraid to let the words out. “You were… my first love, you know. Back when we were fourteen.”

The room seemed to still completely, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. My breath caught in my throat, and my heart thudded in my chest. “What?”

Joe met my gaze, his expression open, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t seen before. “I never told you back then, but you were. I had the biggest crush on you. I was too scared to say anything, though, so I just... never did.”

My mind was reeling, flashes of our time together when we were kids playing in my head—the way he’d always try to impress me, the way he’d get competitive when we played games, the times we’d sit in the park talking about anything and everything. And now, it all made sense.

“Joe…” I started, my voice soft, unsure of what to say. “I had no idea.”

He laughed a little, though there was a hint of nervousness in it. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly smooth back then. I thought maybe you figured it out when I kept challenging you to races just to spend more time with you.”

I laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension between us. “I just thought you really hated losing.”

“I did,” he admitted, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I hated the idea of not being around you even more.”

There was something so honest about the way he said it, and it hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. All this time, I’d thought we were just two kids having fun, never realizing that there was more beneath the surface. And now, sitting here with him all these years later, it felt like a door had opened, revealing all the things we hadn’t said back then.

“I used to think about you a lot too,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “After you moved away for college, I wondered what would’ve happened if we’d stayed in touch.”

His eyes softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against mine where it rested on the edge of the bed. His touch was warm, grounding, and my breath hitched at the contact.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “But maybe we can find out now.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The air between us felt charged, like the years we’d spent apart had collapsed into this one moment, and everything was suddenly within reach—everything we hadn’t said, everything we hadn’t done.

I looked into his eyes, searching for something—an answer, maybe, or just the courage to let myself feel what I was feeling. And what I felt was undeniable. All those years ago, when we were kids, I hadn’t realized what was growing between us. But now… now I could feel it, and it was as real as the heartbeat thrumming in my chest.

“You really had a crush on me, huh?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment, though my voice wavered slightly.

Joe laughed softly, but there was nothing teasing in his gaze. “Yeah. And maybe I still do. And I know it can sound weird, but I know you don’t have anyone now. So I think it’s ok if I hit on you… I guess.”

The room seemed to shrink around us, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of us. I felt the warmth of his hand against mine, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself wonder what could happen—what this could mean.

The moment hung between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Joe’s hand lingered on mine, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a warmth through me I hadn’t felt in years. It was surreal, sitting here in the quiet of the hospital room, realizing how much had passed between us, and how much still remained.

“So,” Joe said after a beat, his voice softer now, almost tentative. “Maybe it’s time we don’t lose touch again.”

I looked up at him, my heart still racing, a small smile playing on my lips. “What are you saying, Joe?”

He held my gaze, his expression serious but hopeful. “I’m saying… I want to see you again. Outside of this hospital.” His smile grew slightly, a little more of that old playfulness creeping back into his voice. “Maybe when I’m not half-concussed and in a hospital gown.”

I laughed at that, though my stomach fluttered at the idea of it. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah,” he said, more confidently this time, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m asking you out, Y/N. I don’t want to miss out on this again. I don’t want to wonder what would’ve happened if we’d given this—us—a real shot.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. There was something so earnest in the way he said it, like he’d been carrying this feeling for a long time. And maybe I had been too. All these years, I’d tucked away those memories, convinced that whatever we could have had was lost in the past. But now, sitting here with him, it felt like the door had opened again.

I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to say yes, but because this felt big. It wasn’t just a casual date—it was a reconnection with the person who had been a part of some of the best years of my life.

“Joe…” I started, unsure of how to put my feelings into words.

He squeezed my hand gently, his eyes soft and understanding. “I know. It’s a lot. But I don’t want to let you slip away again, Y/N. Not this time.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then nodded. “Okay. Let’s give it a shot.”

His smile lit up the room, and it sent a rush of warmth through me. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I said, my own smile widening. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what happens.”

His words hung in the air, and I felt my heart skip a beat. There was something in the way he was looking at me—something different from how he used to look at me when we were kids. It was deeper now, more intense, like he was seeing me for the first time in a long time, really seeing me.

Before I could say anything, the doctor stepped in, clearing his throat as he entered the room. The moment broke, and I stepped back, letting the doctor check Joe’s vitals one last time. The distraction gave me a moment to breathe, to calm the fluttering in my chest that his words had caused.

“Alright, Joe,” the doctor said after a brief exam. “Everything looks good. You’re clear to go, but take it easy for a few days, alright? No more football with the nephews.”

Joe grinned. “No promises, doc.”

The doctor chuckled, handing me the discharge paperwork. “He’s in your hands now, Nurse Y/N. Make sure he behaves.”

“I’ll try,” I said with a smirk, shooting Joe a playful look.

As the doctor left, I turned back to Joe, holding the paperwork in my hands. “Looks like you’re free to go.”

Joe nodded, though there was a glimmer of something playful in his eyes. “I guess that means you get to help me to my car, too.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at my lips. “Don’t push your luck, Burrow.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his ankle wrapped and his movements slow as he tested his balance with the crutches the nurse had given him. I stood by the door, watching as he struggled for a second, clearly still groggy from his head injury.

“Need a hand?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

He glanced up at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think I’m good, but if you want to help, I’m not going to say no.”

I laughed, stepping forward and looping my arm around his back, steadying him as he got to his feet. His arm draped over my shoulder, and I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine, a small reminder of how close we were.

We made our way down the hallway slowly, Joe leaning on me more than he probably needed to, though I didn’t mind. As we stepped outside, the cool morning air greeted us, fresh and quiet, the world still waking up. Joe’s black SUV was parked a few steps away, and I helped him hobble over to the passenger side.

“You really don’t have to help me into the car, you know,” he said, though there was no real protest in his voice.

“Just shut up and let me do my job,” I teased, opening the passenger door and carefully guiding him as he eased himself into the seat. His face tightened in discomfort for a moment as he shifted his injured ankle into the car, but I held onto him, making sure he was steady.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer now, his eyes meeting mine. And for a moment, we just stood there, his hand still on my arm, our faces inches apart. The morning light cast a soft glow over everything, making it feel like we were in our own little world again, like there was nothing between us but the weight of this moment.

Without thinking, I leaned down slightly to help him adjust his seatbelt, and that’s when it happened. His hand slipped from my arm to my waist, his grip firm but gentle, pulling me just a little closer. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, and when I looked up, his eyes were locked on mine, something intense and unspoken passing between us.

Before I could say anything, before I could even think, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing mine in the softest, most unexpected kiss. It wasn’t rushed or urgent, but it was full of everything we hadn’t said, everything we’d been holding onto for years. His hand tightened slightly on my waist, and I could feel the warmth of his body pulling me in.

I kissed him back, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind racing with all the memories of us, of the boy he used to be and the man he was now. And for that moment, nothing else mattered. Just him, just this.

When we finally pulled away, I could feel the flush on my cheeks, the air between us charged with the promise of something more. Joe smiled, that familiar, lopsided grin that made my heart skip a beat.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft but full of that teasing edge, “I guess that was a good start.”

I laughed, trying to steady my breath. “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“About that date…” Joe began, his eyes still locked on mine. “How about tomorrow night? Dinner? Maybe a chance to do this properly?”

I smiled, the excitement bubbling up inside me. “Tomorrow sounds perfect.”

He grinned, and for a moment, we were just two people who’d finally found their way back to each other, after all these years. As I stepped back, closing the passenger door, I felt lighter, like something had shifted between us—something good.

“Drive safe, Burrow,” I called out, stepping away as he started the engine.

Joe smirked, giving me a mock salute as he pulled out of the parking lot. “See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And as I watched his SUV disappear down the quiet street, I couldn’t help but smile, feeling like this was only the beginning of something we’d both been waiting for.

——————————

we kinda lost today lol, but I wanted to give this one for you guys. love a fluffy joey in love with his best friend (wishing it was me).

#joe burrow fluff #bengals #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #cincinnati bengals #joeburrow #joe burrow smut #joe burrow angst #Spotify

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cameronspecial · 8 months ago

Text

At Her Beck And Call

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and Assault

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe may be out doing business, but he is never too busy for Y/N.

Masterlist

Everyone in the Outer Banks knows about Rafe’s explosive personality, especially towards the Pogues. The only person who is never at the wrong end of his anger is Y/N. He would never dare risk losing her by unleashing his anger on her. At the moment, she is safely at home, resting with their darling baby girl growing inside of her stomach. He is finishing up collecting the money from people who owe him from his drug dealer days. When he started dating Y/N, he stopped dealing less often; however, with a baby on the way, Rafe is ready to hang up the towel completely. Therefore, it is time for him to gather all the debts obligated to him. He finally tracks down the last person, Tanner Barrois. The Pogue is hiding out at a friend’s house but for enough money, anyone can betray their friend. Rafe bangs on the door as loud as he can and steps away from it. “What the fuck do you wan-” Tanner complains as he opens the door. Rafe gives him a wicked grin, “I want my fucking money, Asshole.” Tanner backs up into the house with his hands in the air. “I don’t have your money, but I can get it to you. I-I just need a few weeks,” he offers. Rafe shakes his head, “No, I already gave you three months. So where is my money?”

“I don’t have it!”

Rafe grips the front of Tanner’s shirt and slams him against the wall. His arm cocks, rushing towards Tanner’s nose at a fast pace. The room is silent, except for the sounds of Rafe’s fist hitting Tanner, until “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran begins to play out of nowhere. Something vibrating accompanies the song. Rafe keeps Tanner against the wall with one hand, while his other hand goes into his pocket for his phone. He brings it to his ear with a soft smile, “Hi, Dumpling. How are you and little dumpling doing?” “I’m hungry, Rafey,” the pregnant woman whines with her hands on her perturbing stomach. He chuckles, “And what can I pick up for you on my way home, Dumpling?” “I want Trader Joe’s French Vanilla ice cream, soya sauce, pickles and mayo please,” she pleads into the phone. He grimaces, “Please, tell me you aren’t going to eat all of those together.” “I don’t know yet. I guess you’ll have to find out when you get here,” she teases, knowing he gets grossed out by her weird pregnancy cravings. He sighs, “I guess I will. I’ll get those for you once I’m finished with my business. Okay? I love you.” “Thank you. I love you too. Bye,” she hangs up without another word.

The phone gets slipped back into his pocket and his attention returns to Tanner. “Now, where were we?” He punches Tanner again, shaking his hand out to try to rid himself of the blood. “I’m going to ask you again. Where is my money?” Rafe growls. Tanner whimpers, “I can get it to you by next week.” Tanner receives another blow to the head. “Not the answer I was looking for. So let’s try this once more,” Rafe warns, but he is again interrupted by the chime of his phone. “Is everything okay, Dumpling?” he worries into the speaker.

“It needs to be the tiny pickles. I don’t want the large ones. I don’t want the zig-zag cut ones or the straight-cut ones. I want the tiny ones. Okay?”

“Yes, I know, Dumpling. I promise they will be the tiniest ones I can find.”

“Good, thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, Dumpling. Goodbye.”

Tanner’s face is in a bloody smirk. “What the fuck are you smiling at?” Rafe questions, digging his forearm into the Pogue's neck. Tanner gasps out, “You are so whipped for her.” Rafe’s eyebrows cave in and he strikes Tanner’s stomach. “Be careful what you say next, Motherfucker,” Rafe alerts. Tanner appears to have a death wish as he says the next sentence, “That bitch has your balls in a death grip and it’s pathetic.” His phone rings once more before he can reply. “Dumpling, you are really making me concerned about you,” he sighs into the phone. She pouts, “I’m sorry. I just wanted something to drink too.” “It’s okay, Dumpling. I want you to stay hydrated. So what can I get you?” he inquires. “Iced tea, please. And I promise this will be the last time I’m going to call. I’m going to take a nap while I wait for you to come home.”

“Iced tea, coming right up. Enjoy your nap, Dumpling. I’ll see you when I get home. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Rafey. Thank you. I can’t wait for you to come home. Muah.”

The line goes dead and he can’t help but put his phone away with a massive grin on his face. He weakens his hold on Tanner, “You better be thanking the lord that I am whipped for my girl because it is the only reason I am giving you another day to get the money. Don’t try to run because I will find you and your punishment will be so much worse than you can imagine. Now, if you would excuse me, I have to go to Trader’s Joe.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

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heavyhitterheaux · 8 days ago

Text

Steady Love (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: After Joe learns of a secret that you've been keeping from him, he has a big decision to make on whether the relationship is worth saving and if he can accept it

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Do not engage if underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Joe was deep in thought as he was on a popular restaurant's website looking at their menu to see everything that they offered. He knew that you, his girlfriend, was extremely picky and had a shit ton of allergies and had to make sure they had options that you could pick from.

He was convinced that your diet consisted of chicken nuggets and iced coffee and got on you all the time about it. His goal was to take you there for date night seeing as you had both been busy all week and now you were going to spend the weekend with him before going to his game on Sunday.

The restaurant had amazing reviews and the person who had told him about it and also made the reservation for it was Ja'Marr who was also on the phone, as Joe had put it on speaker so that he was able to talk to him and look at the website at the same time.

“I think Y/N is hiding something from me.” He blurted out as it had been on his mind for the last few days and he thought that he was going to explode if he didn't say anything to someone soon. He figured that telling one of his best friends was a good choice.

“Wait, what? That was random. Why do you say that? Your girl literally worships the ground you walk on and you do the same thing with her.”

“Something just seems off. I find her sometimes going to a different room to answer her phone, which she protects with her damn life by the way.”

“Don't we all? That doesn't mean anything.”

“No, not like she does. And do you know that I've never stayed at her place before?”

“Huh? The two of you have been together for what seems like forever.” Ja'Marr asked as he was moving around his kitchen and trying to find something to snack on.

“A few months but it's weird. Whenever I propose the idea, she immediately shuts it down. Claiming that my house is closer to her job, which is true but I don't know.”

“I think you’re paranoid and probably thinking too much into this. Y/N is amazing and she can do no wrong in my eyes.”

“Because you love whenever she cooks and tells me to invite you over too, but what if I'm right?”

“Hey! That just happens to be a plus but if you're right then confront her about it and the two of you act like adults and go from there. Just keep in mind she's making me salted caramel cookies next week. Don't mess up my supply.”

“Your supply? You act like we're talking about drugs when we are literally talking about cookies. And she just seemed so stressed out this week so the last thing I want to do is send her over the edge.”

“When it comes to her cooking, it might as well be crack! It's addicting! Look, if it comes up then you two talk about it and if it doesn't just wait for the right time. I'm sure that there's a good explanation to all of this.”

“I'm ignoring the part about the crack.”

“But you didn't ignore it because you just mentioned it.”

“Talking to you should not stress me out as much as it does.” Joe replied as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Keep in mind, YOU called me and I made the reservation for you so be nice!”

“Mm hmm.”

“Look, just let me know how it goes once you talk to her.”

Later on that evening, the two of you were now sitting across from one another in a secluded corner of the restaurant sharing the dessert that you had picked out. Joe wasn't one to eat a lot of sweets during the season, however for you he'll always make an exception.

You held your fork up to Joe's mouth and was encouraging him to take a bite but he was looking at you suspiciously before looking at the dessert and then looking back at you.

“Joey! Open!”

“Um.. what is this again?”

“It's a pistachio cheesecake. It's good, come on taste it.”

“It looks weird. And wait! Aren't you allergic to pistachios?”

“No, I got an allergy test done recently and apparently I'm not allergic anymore.”

“How reliable is that? The last thing I need is your throat closing. Do you have benadryl just in case? I'm about to call 911 so that they can be on standby.”

“I planned for my throat to close around something else tonight, but yes.” You told Joe as you winked at him.

Being caught off guard by your comment, his eyes went wide but he quickly recovered as he sent a smirk in your direction.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Mm hmm, I haven't seen you all week so I'm excited to spend the entire weekend with you which also includes plenty of activities that do not require clothes. This week was a lot and I really needed to be around you so this was absolutely perfect. Did you pick the place or did Ja'Marr?”

“We'll definitely get to that later. I know this week was a lot for you and there were a lot of things happening so I'm happy you're spending the entire weekend with me. And yes, it was Ja'Marr’s idea. I had never been here before and he recommended it.”

“Doesn't surprise me since you're such a homebody. I'm going to have to make him more cookies for that one.”

“All of my snacks and streaming services are at home. What do I need to leave for? And no, absolutely not. He's starting to stalk me just for your cookies. Any time he calls me now it's about you and your cooking. First thing out of his mouth is if you were at my house and if you cooked anything and if he can come over.” Joe told you as he laughed with you joining in with him.

“Okay, now open.”

“This better not be nasty.”

“Joey! Stop acting like you're five and open!” He did as he was told and slowly started to chew with his head nodding in approval.

“It's not bad, but I know something that tastes even better and I've been craving it all week actually.”

“What? You said you had never been here before.”

“I was talking about my girlfriend sitting on my face.”

—

“Get over here and stop running from me.” Joe told you as he pulled you back onto his California king bed since you were literally about a few centimeters from hitting the floor.

“I am nowhere done with you. Keep in mind you talked all that shit in the car on the way back and now look, a whimpering dripping mess underneath of me. So wet for me.” He whispered in your ear as he once again inserted two of his fingers into you, pumping them at an even and slow pace knowing that it would get you that much closer.

His fingers slipped out and he held them up to your mouth as you opened and sucked on them.

“See how good you taste?” Joe asked as he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips and slipped inside you at the same time making you gasp and quickly wrap your arms around his neck.

“Look at my pretty girl, she's taking me so well.”

He placed his hand around your neck and slightly squeezed, but not too tight as he increased his pace moving in and out of you.

Your moans were the only thing that you could get to come out of your mouth because of how much pleasure that you were in and knew that you being sore later was inevitable.

“Taking me so well that she can't even utter a single word, huh? This dick got you speechless?” Joe laughed, but was caught off guard when you suddenly flipped him onto his back and began to ride him.

“Damn, wasn't expecting that.”

“Not quite speechless, but you're about to be once I finish riding you.” You explained to him as you smirked with him taking hold of your hips in order to help guide you.

“Come on then, princess. Let's get to it.”

It was now three in the morning and you were wrapped into Joe's tight embrace when your phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand.

Quickly picking it up to look at it, you were startled go see that it was Jayson, your daughters father and slowly moved from Joe in order to hopefully not wake him up and went into the master bathroom and closed the door behind you to answer it.

“Jayson, what's going on?”

“It's Nalanie. She won't stop crying and she's simply asking for you. She kept asking me to call you and wouldn't take no for an answer.”

“Just hand her the phone.”

“Hello?”

“Mom! I…” She started to say, but couldn't continue her sentence without crying.

“I'm coming, okay? Be there soon.” You comforted her and quickly hung up as you made your way back into the bedroom to still see Joe resting peacefully.

You quickly started moving around with the use of the flashlight on your phone to be able to see and this made Joe wake up and he quickly sat up to reach over to turn on the bedside lamp.

“Uh? Baby? What are you doing?”

“Looking for my clothes, I need to leave.” You told him as you had discovered your outfit that you had worn earlier all the way by the bedroom door suddenly remembering that Joe wasted no time in taking it off of you.

“Why? What's wrong? Did something happen?” He asked while you were hurrying to get dressed and you ignored his question. Not on purpose, but because you had no idea what you were about to walk into once you left there and went and got Nalanie.

Seeing how frantic you were, Joe pulled you over to him since he was sitting on the bed still to try and calm you down.

“Joey, I...”

“You need to breathe for a second and then tell me what's going on with you. You have me worried. What can I do to help you?”

“Just…. let me go please. I want to tell you but…”

“But what? You tell me everything. Or at least I thought you told me everything.” He replied as he took your smaller hand in his large one.

You hesitated before you answered him and it was clear by the look on your face that you didn't want to. The man in front of you had always been honest with you since the two of you had gotten together and it was necessary for you to do the same thing in return. He never deserved to be lied to despite your reasoning for it.

In your mind, you didn't necessarily lie to him, but you definitely didn't tell him the truth either.

“I just got off the phone with my daughter. She was crying and scared and I could barely make out what she was saying. I need to go get her from her father's house. I promise to explain more after I know that she's okay.”

“Wait, what? You’re joking right? Since when do you have a daughter?” Joe asked dumbfounded and he was waiting for the punchline of the joke that just came out of your mouth.

“Since I got pregnant when I was a teenager. Joey, I promise I'll explain but not now. Move so I can get up.” You said as tears were threatening to fall down your face.

“So you mean to tell me that you lied to me? And you've been lying to me this entire time?! I knew that something was off with you and I was right! What else are you hiding?! Are there more kids that I don't know about? Why would you lie about something like that?”

“Nothing. I'm not hiding anything else, I promise.” You said as you slipped on your shoes.

“Hmm, your promises have now been proven to come up empty so I don't want to even hear it. Just do what you have to do.”

“Joey…”

“No, I don't want to hear it. I hope your daughter is okay, but….”

“But what?”

“How am I supposed to be with someone who lies to me? Especially something as big as that?”

“It’s not that simple. I'll explain if you just give me the chance.”

“Oh, but it is. Get your stuff and you can leave.”

“I… fine.” You told him as you grabbed your overnight bag from the chair in the corner and your cell phone that had been placed on the nightstand after you had gotten that frantic call.

You looked at your keys and quickly took the key to Joe's condo off and left it on the nightstand that was closest to his side of the bed.

Without another word, you walked out of his bedroom and down the steps to eventually make it to your car. Once your belongings were in the backseat, the water works that you had been trying so hard to hold in, made themselves known and it was like a dam had broken.

After sitting there for a few minutes and giving yourself a pep talk, you made your way to Nalanie's father's house to make sure that she was okay.

It didn't take long before you were knocking on the front door and it was whisked open by Nalanie herself who then placed you in a bone crushing hug as tears were still streaming down her face. You rubbed small circles along her back as you kissed her cheek in order to get her to calm down.

“Lady Bug, are you going to tell me what's wrong? I'm here now and you're okay.”

She slowly nodded her head and broke her embrace from you and moved to the side so that you would be able to come into the house. Once she did, you were greeted by Jayson and his wife Sabrina who had come from the kitchen in order to greet you.

“Hey, she’s been like this for the past hour. Won't say anything to us. All she wanted was you.” Sabrina told you as she hugged you.

You nodded your head before also hugging Jayson, but Nalanie stayed quiet.

“Lady Bug?”

“Can we just go home?” She quietly asked and the first thing you did was nod.

“Go get your things and meet me back down here.”

Nalanie took the steps two at a time before Jayson looked at you and sighed.

“I was trying to handle it without us calling you, but I didn’t know what else to do. Anddd I just realized I ruined date night for you. How's you know who by the way?”

“Very upset with me because he found out about her like this before I could tell him properly and I think we just broke up? I had literally planned on telling him in the next two weeks or so and I was going to tell her too. But it's not important right now. What is important is my daughter so, if he can't accept her then he's not the one for me.”

“He's probably more upset about finding out in the way he did and not the fact that you have her.”

“Either way, we're probably done, so…”

“Don't give up on him so easily, he may surprise you.” Sabrina said before walking back into the kitchen.

“Just see how it plays out. This is the happiest that I've ever seen you and I would hate for you to miss out on that. Just give him time to process.” Jayson told you and you simply nodded as Nalanie reappeared with all of her bags in tow.

Nalanie said her goodbyes to her father and Sabrina and you picked one of her many bags up off the floor to carry outside. You never understood why she needed so many bags for a three day weekend, but then again she was your child and simply took after you when you thought about how you would do the exact same thing.

The two of you were now home and as soon as you opened the door, you wasted no time in asking her what was wrong.

“Okay, out with it.”

“I got my period and got really scared.”

“Oh, Lady Bug, that is nothing to be scared about. It happens to everyone that has a uterus.”

“I know that I could have asked Sabrina, but I just wanted you. I remember you telling me about what to do if you weren't around and it happened so I took a pad from underneath the sink. I'm sorry that I took you away from whatever you were doing.”

“Don't apologize. You needed me and never ever apologize for needing me. So, how about this?”

“What?”

“Take a bath, put on pajamas and we'll sleep. When we wake up, I'll do your makeup and your hair while we watch Mean Girls?”

“Ooh, deal! Can we make popcorn too?”

“Of course we can and then we're going on a snack run. You can't be on your period and not have a supply of chocolate and ice cream in the house.”

It had been almost an entire two weeks and Joe's finger kept hovering over your number as he debated on calling you while he sat in his living room.

This had happened ever since he had told you to leave that night. The guilt crept in not too long after he had heard you close the front door and he debated on running after you, but decided against it.

He admits that he should've given you a chance to explain everything, but in that moment he was too mad to even listen to one. He couldn't begin to wrap his mind around how you have a daughter.

His mind kept going to you and quickly decided that after practice was over and he was home that he would call you and hopefully you wanted to talk to him, but he honestly wouldn't blame you if you had told him no.

Thinking that it was now or never, he pushed down with his thumb on your number and the phone began to dial.

It rang for a while and Joe was about to hang up, before he heard your soft voice come through the phone.

“Hello?”

“Um, hey.” Joe responded hesitantly.

“Surprised to hear from you. Did you dial the wrong number by chance?” You curiously asked as you were fumbling through your kitchen cabinets looking for ideas on what to make for dinner for you and Nalanie.

“No, I wanted to talk to you. Are you busy right now?”

Startled by this, you placed the box of macaroni noodles on the counter and sat down at the island, trying to take in what he had just asked you.

“No, not at the moment. I'm free to talk.”

“Uh, can we do this in person? I would rather do that than talk on the phone.”

“Sure, I can be over there in 15 minutes.” You told him as you glanced down at your watch. After going over there to see him, you would have to go straight to Nalanie's middle school to pick her up from practice.

“Okay, I'll leave the door open for you.”

It didn't take you very long to get there as you had anticipated, but the anxiety of seeing Joe again after the two of you had left things was starting to kick in.

Maybe this was a formal break up?

No, he probably just wants an explanation and as far as you could tell he was long overdue to hear the truth from you about everything.

Reaching his condo, you pulled into the driveway before getting out of your car and walking up to the door. Turning the handle, it was open just like Joe had promised and a deep breath escaped your mouth before turning it and walking inside.

You found him in the living room and he gave you a small smile before getting up to hug you which caught you off guard. You tightly hugged him back just in case that was the last time that you were able to do it.

“Hi.”

The two of you were now sitting next to each other and Joe was the first to speak.

It was time to get it over with. Now or never.

“Y/N, why would you keep something like that from me? And you've done it for MONTHS. I'm just trying to understand.” he asked you, trying to make sense of the situation. He simply couldn't believe that you lied to him and lied to him about something as big as this.

“I wanted to tell you when I felt that the time was right. Please understand that. I had actually planned on doing it soon, but then everything happened so…..” You quietly said, but all he did was shake his head.

“And when did you exactly plan on doing that? At this rate, you probably weren't about to tell me until we got married.”

“That is not fair and you know it!”

“I knew something was up when you would go to another room to answer phone calls, never let me stay at your place with you and always shut down the idea when I asked, leaving early from date night. I care about you, so you could at the very least let me know what was happening. Even if you weren't ready for me to meet her.”

“I just didn't want her to get attached to you just in case we didn't end on the best terms. It's happened before in the past and I don't want her to be disappointed again. And I also didn't know how you were going to take it.”

“Hmm, I would have dealt with it because I love and care about you. But I see that you obviously don't give me enough credit. If something or in this case, SOMEONE is important to you, they're important to me too. How old is she anyway?”

“She just turned thirteen.” You quietly said and Joe's eyes went wide.

“I still can't believe you tried to hide the fact that you have a child from me.”

“Like I said, I was going to tell you. If you don't want to be with me anymore because I kept this from you, I get it. I think you made that pretty clear two weeks ago. I ultimately was just trying to protect her.” You quietly said feeling defeated.

Even though Joe was definitely upset with you, he moved closer to you and took your hand in his and started rubbing small circles on the back of it.

“What's her name?” He asked and from that point on, the light in your eyes returned.

“Nalanie Rue. But I've always called her Lady Bug. When I brought her home from the hospital and we were walking outside with her to get into the car, one landed on her nose and it's been her name since. I never call her by her real name unless she's in trouble, which isn't often. She's a really good kid and I honestly couldn't have asked for more. I'm really proud to be her mom.” You confessed as you told Joe about your daughter.

“I see the way you lit up when I asked you about her.”

“I got pregnant when I was 15 and was obviously scared out of my mind. I tried to hide it from my parents for a while but then my mom noticed that I wasn't using the tampons or pads she would put in my bathroom every month for me and she confronted me about it. They’ve always supported me even though I know deep down that they think that I robbed myself of my childhood, which is fair in a sense. I couldn't really go out with my friends unless I took her with me.”

“And you get along with her father? I'm assuming he is in the picture since he's the one who called you first?”

“Yes, he was there from day one when I told him and didn't back down. He's a year older than me. He got a job and would buy her as much as he could. Jayson. He's amazing to her and they have a good relationship. We're still close and he’s married now. But his wife treats Nalanie like she's hers and that's the best thing I could have asked for. I really lucked out because I know a lot of other people aren't as fortunate. My only prayer was that whoever he decided to marry would do right by her.”

“When did she meet his wife?”

“Literally right before he proposed to her and that was something that we both agreed on, but she did know about her. We never bring anyone around her unless we're absolutely sure that they'll be there for the long haul because both of us have messed up in the past with that. We want to protect her like I said before.” You honestly said and Joe was taking in everything that you had told him.

“And I told Jayson about you, but not Nalanie. From his perspective and the way that I talk about you he's really happy for me and all for it. But he did say that he wanted her to meet you. It might also help that you're his favorite player but who knows.” You said to Joe and a small smirk broke out onto his face.

“You're the one calling the shots here. I just want you to do whatever you're comfortable with. I would love to meet her whenever you feel that the time is right. But Y/N….”

“Hmm?” You asked as you turned once more to look at him and he sighed before answering you.

“You can't keep things like this from me. We've been together for a while and you know better than anyone how much I'm going to be there to support you with whatever is going on in your life, just like you do for me. No more secrets. Promise me. I get your reasoning behind it, but you having a daughter was not going to be a dealbreaker for me.”

“Promise. No more secrets from here on out.” You replied back to him as he leaned over to place a kiss on your forehead. He relaxed into the couch as you brought your head slightly to the left to be able to lean against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Do you want to see what she looks like?” You asked Joe at the same time that you had reached for your phone, not really waiting for an answer.

You never wasted an opportunity to show off your daughter and let people know how proud you were of her.

Joe nodded as you went to your gallery and pulled up the most recent photos of the two of you and moved it closer so that he could see it.

“She literally looks just like you.”

“My little twin. Everyone says the same thing when they see her except she's a little taller than me. She is literally my baby. I cried when she turned thirteen. I can't wrap my head around me now having a teenager.”

“And you’re going to do such an amazing job with her. I can see that you already are.”

“Well if you're ready to meet her, we can do it tomorrow. It's Thursday and she likes football just as much as her parents do.”

“How about football and an ice cream date? Does she like ice cream?”

“She does. Mint chocolate chip is her favorite and I always tell her how weird she is because I never met a kid that said that was their favorite flavor. Oh, and I should tell you something….”

“That's wild that she likes that flavor, but what is it?”

“The Bengals are her favorite team and for good reason but…”

“But what?”

“Ja'Marr is her favorite player so she is going to interrogate you about him.” You confessed as you stifled a laugh and Joe held his hand over his heart pretending that he was hurt.

“But I think the two of you will get along just fine.”

“Oh, and I think you'll need this back.” Joe told you as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the key that you had left on his nightstand.

Staying over with Joe lasted around forty five minutes until you told him about going to get Nalanie from practice. Once you had picked her up and the two of you were eating dinner and watching Netflix, you figured that it was a good time to tell her about meeting Joe tomorrow and nudged her to get her attention as she was sitting next to you on the couch.

“I have something that I want to tell you.”

“Okay, I'm listening. Is everything okay?” She replied as she turned to look at you.

“Everything's fine. I want you to meet someone really special to me tomorrow after you get home from school. We're going to get ice cream and…”

“MINT CHOCOLATE CHIP!”

“Yes, you can have that disgusting flavor and we'll watch Thursday Night Football with him.” You told her as you turned up your nose and she promptly stuck her tongue out at you.

“That is literally the best flavor of ice cream, you are such a hater. But wait a minute… him?”

“Yes, him.” You replied as you nodded your head.

“Hmm, I have to approve. I need to make sure that he's good enough to be in a relationship with my mom. If the two of you are in a relationship that is.” She said as she narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously.

“We are and I forgot how overprotective that you can get but I definitely think that the two of you will get along really well. You two like a lot of the same things including football.” You said as you thought about her probably wanting to go to every Bengals game once she meets Joe.

“In my eyes, only very few people meet my expectations of being good enough for you. And I want to see you happy, but you look happy so I guess he's doing something right so I'm okay with it. And I know he must be important because I never meet anyone that you date.”

“And be nice. No interrogating.”

“No promises.”

You and Joe agreed to meet at one of your favorite ice cream stands that wasn't too far from your job and you found yourself going there sometimes when you got a break to destress by eating a treat that you knew was going to satisfy your craving. It also had a small park nearby and that's where you planned on meeting him.

Nalanie was actually bouncing off the walls and very excited to meet the mystery man, or it was the fact that she was going to get ice cream in the middle of the week.

It was probably the latter.

The two of you were in line and you were about to pay for your ice cream as well as Nalanie's when you felt a presence behind you. You got a whiff of the cologne that you grew to love so much and knew that it was your boyfriend. Joe then slipped the cashier his card as you shook your head and smiled while Nalanie was looking around confused.

“Wait, mom, where's your man? Is he late? I thought he was supposed to be here already. And why is Joe Burrow here? Wait! Is Ja'Marr here too?” She asked as she was looking around to see if she could spot her favorite player.

“Lady bug, this is my boyfriend Joe and Joe this is my daughter Nalanie.”

“It's nice to meet you Nalanie, your mom has told me all about you.” Joe told her and she slowly nodded her head up and down indicating that she was still taking everything in.

At that moment, her eyes went wide.

“I.. wow… It's nice to meet you too. I had this whole speech in my head to interrogate you with but now I can't remember a word of it.”

“Nalanie! I said NO interrogating!”

“He seems like he would be able to take it anyway.” She told you and you shook your head at her.

“I didn't bring Ja'Marr, but maybe next time. Since someone did tell me that he was your favorite player.”

“Don't be jealous, you're a close second.” She replied as she smiled.

Over the next several months, you watched as Joe and Nalanie grew closer and was happy that they were building such a good relationship with one another. There were even a few conversations that had happened regarding the two of you moving in with him and of course Nalanie was all for it, but you on the other hand wanted a little bit more time before you came to a final decision about it. Joe told you that there was absolutely no rush and that the offer would stand.

It was currently Friday and you were stuck in traffic due to an accident as you were on your way to get Nalanie. You didn't want to keep her waiting and since it was her weekend with you instead of spending it with her dad, you quickly asked Joe if he could get her for you.

You- Joey, I'm stuck in traffic, could you go and get Nalanie for me? But only if you aren't busy. I owe you for this.

Joey- You don't owe me anything and of course I'll go and get her. We'll wait for you before we decide on dinner.

You- Thank you, I love you 😘💕

Joey- I love you more and be safe.

Nalanie was surprised to see Joe instead of you as he pulled up in his Porsche, but quickly slipped into the passenger seat as Joe had leaned over to open the door for her.

“Hey, where's my mom? Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything.” She told him as she brought the seatbelt across her body.

“Stuck in traffic so she asked me to come and get you. We'll decide on dinner once she gets back. How was your day at school?”

“Hmm, it was okay, but this boy Cody is convinced that girls don't know more about football then boys so we got into an argument at lunch about it.”

“Did you know that there are more women who actually watch it then men do?” Joe told her and she quickly nodded.

“See!? And that's what I told him. I was firing off all these stats about my favorite players, you were included, and he was just looking at me like he didn't know what I was talking about.”

One thing Joe knew Nalanie was passionate about was football and sports in general and that you and her were never one to back down from an argument or discussion regarding it.

“He sounds like he talks a big game, but can't back it up.”

“I'm convinced that his head is full of air instead of a brain.”

“You literally sound just like your mother.” Joe told her as he laughed and came to a slow stop at a red light.

“I have a question. Well, two actually.”

“Ask away.” Joe told her as the light turned green.

“Well first, when are you going to marry my mom? She's really happy with you and I can tell.”

Hearing Nalanie ask this caught him off guard, but he quickly composed himself.

“Hmm, funny you should ask. Can you keep a secret? And I also wanted to ask you something.” He said and she quickly nodded.

“I already got her ring, just have to plan when I'm going to do it. And I wanted to ask your permission too, because I feel that it's important.”

“Really!? Well you already know that my answer is yes. I already consider you my bonus dad and that's a plus. This is the happiest that I've ever seen her. What does it look like? Can I see it?”

A million thoughts were running through Nalanie's head about how excited she was about the entire thing. She finally felt that now her family would be complete.

“I have it hidden in my room, hoping she doesn't find it but I'll show you later. What was your next question?”

“Are you two going to have a baby? Or babies? I like the idea of at least three. I want a sibling or siblings to play with.”

“I… you are so full of questions today.”

“I only asked you two questions and you are definitely stalling. I guess all that media training has led you to be able to learn how to dodge questions.”

“I'm not dodging the question!”

“Lies! Then answer it!”

At that moment, Joe's phone rang indicating that it was you and quickly answered it as Nalanie made a face at him.

“Saved by the phone call. But I'm definitely going to ask again later.”

It was around eight at night when you were painting Nalanie's nails on the floor in the living room while Joe was sitting on the couch behind both of you and she noticed that you kept glancing at her.

“Uh, mom? Everything okay? You literally only do that when you have something that you want to tell me.” She asked as you were now painting a second coat. This also caught Joe's attention and he quickly looked over at you.

“Well there is something….” You said as you gestured for her to put her hand in the nail dryer.

“What is it?” She asked as she looked between the two of you and you looked at Joe to give him permission to tell her.

“I think that the role of being a big sister is going to look pretty good on you.” Joe told her and her mouth was now hanging wide open.

“Now I see why you didn't answer my question earlier.”

“Wait, what question?” You asked her and she sent a smile in your direction.

“I asked him when the two of you were going to give me a sibling, but I see that was clearly already in the works. I want at least three by the way.” She told you as she pointed to your midsection.

“Umm, we'll have to see about that and we wanted to make sure that everything was okay before we said anything about it.”

“Well I'm excited for that obviously and now I guess there's only one more part left.”

“And what part is that?”

“The part where you two get married and then we'll be a family for real.”

Taglist:

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@a-moment-captured

@wickedfun9

@dandelionwrites8

@keiva1000

#joe burrow #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow angst #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals #Spotify

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ereardon · 27 days ago

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Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Twenty

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Jake and Bob finally talk; Jake makes a startling statement and Ducky's water breaks

WC: 1K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You sat on the couch wearing a dress that stretched over your mountain of a stomach, feet swinging. “Come on, Cowboy!” you yelled out. “This isn’t the Miss Texas pageant!”

Jake appeared from the doorway, running a hand through his hair. He had on a pair of jeans and a thin cashmere polo tucked in at the waist. He looked nervous.

“Are you ready?” he nodded. “Help me up, please.”

Jake held out his hands and lifted you gently as you groaned. “You alright baby?” he whispered.

“I’m enormous,” you complained. “And she’s kicking my ribs like she’s getting paid for it.”

“Maybe we have a soccer star on our hands,” he replied, placing one hand on your belly.

You looked up. “I don’t think I need to tell you how important it is to me that tonight goes well.”

Jake sighed. “I’m well aware of what’s at stake, Y/N.”

You frowned. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Let’s just go,” he said, grabbing his truck keys from the table near the door.

“No. Tell me what you meant.”

Jake groaned. “I’m really not in the mood for this.”

“Well neither am I, but here we are.” You were being stubborn and you knew it. It was one of your less attractive traits, as your mother always said.

“You want to know the truth?” Jake whirled around to face you. “That’s my baby in there. But I know for a goddamn fact that you’ll pick your family over me if it comes down to it. And that if for some reason Floyd and I can’t figure this out, you’ll pick him over me. And I’m not going to get to be a part of my kid’s life. Not in the way that I want to be.”

It took you a moment to reply. And just as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake cut you off.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. “We’re going to be late.”

***

The drive was silent, punctuated only by the sounds of your scraggly breath as the truck ricketed over potholes. Jake kept both hands on the wheel, gripping it hard.

You were quiet as he pulled into a parking space, Bob’s truck already parked across the way. When you went to slip your hands into Jake’s, he shifted just enough out of the way.

Inside, Bob sat at a corner table wearing a linen shirt, a look of disgruntled discomfort across his face. He stood up when he spotted you, reaching out to kiss your cheek. “Ducky.” He straightened. “Hangman.”

“Floyd.”

“Call each other by your first names,” you demanded, plopping down into the chair and taking a sip of ice water. “Please.”

“Jake,” Bob bit out.

“Bob.”

“There. Was that so hard?” You winced as the baby kicked, hard, against what may or may not have been the remaining shred of a spleen.

“Are you alright?” Bob asked quietly.

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You cut him off. “Can the two of you just talk please? So I can go home and put on my pajamas.”

“If you want I’ll take you home now.” Jake offered.

“Jesus fuck,” you grumbled and they both looked up, startled. “Talk to each other. Now.” You crossed your arms over your chest, resting them on your belly.

Jake sighed while Bob leaned back.

Finally, Jake said, “I called Joe the other day. After what happened at the restaurant.”

Bob frowned. You did, too. “Who is Joe?”

“Dakota’s husband,” they replied in unison.

“Asked how he was doing. How Blake was. He’s in the third grade now.”

“I know that,” Bob bit out. “He’s my godson.”

Jake hung his head. “Listen, Bob, I’m trying here. Do you know how many times I woke up that first year after the accident in the middle of the night drenched in sweat? How many times I wondered if it would have been better if it was me in her seat. What if I had just gone down instead.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m about to be a father. And it’s made me do a lot of thinking. I’m not saying it was right, or that I don’t regret it. But maybe there was a reason I wasn’t the one who we lost out there. Maybe this is what I was meant to do and be. And I think I owe our daughter, Y/N’s and mine, everything I can give to her. And that means being a father who isn’t constantly haunted by ghosts.”

The air was still. In front of you, your spaghetti was getting cold, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Jake and Bob as they sat across from each other in silence.

“Tell me the truth,” Bob said, gravely voice barely above a whisper. “Do you love my sister?”

“Yes.” It was automatic. Your heart jumped into your throat. “I love her. I’m in love with her. I’d do anything for her.”

“So marry her.”

“Bobby!” you slapped his upper arm. “You shut up.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Marry her and provide a good life for her.”

“Happily.”

Your eyes went wide. “What?”

Jake turned to you. “I know you’re scared and that’s OK. But when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Because I’m ready for this. All of this.”

Your heart started beating fast. You felt the air tighten around you as your reached out to grab the edge of the table.

“Ducky?”

“Baby? Are you alright?”

“I think, I’m—”

The rush of liquid from beneath your dress stopped you mid sentence. You looked up.

“I think I’m in labor.”

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@blue-aconite @bobfloydsbabe @bobfloydssunnies @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @spinning-away @myfaveficrecs @withahappyrefrain

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goncharovimagines · 2 years ago

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Imagine…

It’s cold inside the shipping container. Your breath mists in the air before you like delicate white smoke before fading away into the frigid atmosphere.

You don’t know how long you’ve been there. Your wrists ache from being tied behind you at such an awkward angle and while you’re stiff, you don’t want to move for fear of losing the small amount of body heat you have.

Your guard, on the other hand, looks warm and toasty in a thick fleece-lined jacket and chunky gloves. He’s only been here twenty minutes or so, having come to relieve the last man standing over you. You don’t know who that other guy was, but this one you’re familiar with. You’d know Ice Pick Joe anywhere.

You haven’t been sure if he recognises you or not. But now, as if it has only just occurred to him to do so, he raises his lantern slightly so that its amber circle of light spills onto you, and you hear his intake of breath as he sees you face.

“Y/N,” he says, before he can stop himself. “What….what are you doing here?”

That makes you laugh, a little weakly. Isn’t it obvious? But then the silence stretches out, and you realise he’s waiting for an answer. That’s fair, you suppose. It has been a long time since you last saw him, and both of you have changed since then.

“Wrong place, wrong time,” you whisper, your voice a tired rasp.

“But you weren’t - with Goncharov?”

You shrug, as much as your bounds will allow. Everyone is with Goncharov, in the end, even when it leads them to be bound and forgotten in a shipping container, destined for who knows what.

“I ran out of time,” you say, instead. That, at least, he understands. Ice Pick Joe lets out a long breath, and you see it hang in the air before him, shimmering with everything he might have said.

There is another pause, longer this time.

Then he says, “Are you cold?”

“Is the Pope Catholic?”

That earns you a snort.

“Here,” he says, and suddenly he’s coming towards you, holding a dusty blanket he’s produced from somewhere. You flinch away from his touch on instinct and can tell immediately that it hurts him. Gently, ever so gently, he places the blanket around you.

“Better?” he asks, and he’s crouched so close to you that he only has to whisper the word.

You nod.

He retreats again, satisfied, but doesn’t go quite so far, pulling his chair into the circle of lantern light.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he admits, after a moment. “Do you….do you remember the orchards, Y/N?”

The question is so careful, so hesitant, it slices right through you. Yes, you remember. Dappled sunlight on the long grass, rows of wizened trees. You had been young, then, and in the pride of youth had thought yourselves immortal.

“I remember,” you tell him. Perhaps if you closed your eyes you’d be able to imagine yourself back there, but you don’t want to look away from him. What’s done is done, and this - however terrible - is what you have now.

“I can’t let you go,” he says, and he sounds genuinely regretful.

“I know,” you say, and hopes that he can hear the rest of the sentence: I don’t blame you.

“I can keep you warm, though,” he says suddenly, rising again. “That blanket’s not enough.”

It has helped, but he’s right - you’re so deeply chilled now, it takes more than a bit of insulation to thaw your stiff body. Before you can say anything, though, he’s risen to his feet, walked over to you, and untied your hands.

“Here,” he says, sitting back down on the chair and unzipping his enormous coat. “It’s big enough for two.”

You shouldn’t be doing this. For all the small talk, you know this guy isn’t the same Joe Morelli you knew before. But maybe he doesn’t have to be. Maybe it’s enough that he remembers that Joe, just like you can dredge up the shadow of the old Y/N. Maybe, just for a few hours, you two can pretend.

You sit on his lap, and find yourself immediately enveloped in the warmth of his arms and his coat. It’s shockingly intimate after the caution of the previous touches and there is a heady, decadent quality to it.

“Y/N,” Joe says, and fuck you have missed how your name sounds in his mouth. “Are you okay?”

More than okay. Pressed up against him like this in the shared heat of the coat, you’re finding yourself hyperaware of all the places your bodies are touching. A thought occurs to you and a laugh gurgles from your throat before you can stop it.

“What?’ he asks.

With how you’re positioned he can’t see your face, so you let yourself smile as you say, “Is that an ice pick in your pocket or are you pleased to see me?”

#goncharov #ice pick joe x reader #ice pick joe #yes i have edited it bc i repeated air in the second sentence lmaoo

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a-hermit-pining · 7 months ago

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Sukuna as a House Husband

Genre: Fluff Pairing: House husband Sukuna x Reader AN: Might be OOC but humor me people. Coming up Geto as househusband 🥰

First few months of Sukuna's career as a househusband are nothing less than accidents that involved smoke alarms and questionable fire extinguisher techniques. The transition from malevolent kitchen to a less lethal one takes quite a minute.

From handing you Lunchables to becoming pinterest core this man takes quite a journey.

Everyday chores that start with ill concealed annoyance and were in the past pointedly pushed on to you are taken over the minute he notices the residues of shared lunch from another in your lunchbox.

How dare you accept someone else's food? The entire evening, Sukuna glared at the takeout pizza with enough intensity to melt the cheese. You swear the pepperoni visibly cowered under his icy gaze.

And the revelation that some random Joe- Shmoe, a pathetic nameless mortal, had lent you his lunch is enough incentive for this man get in action.

This old man has lived his share of luxury as the king of curses. So, the minute he decides to flex his culinary skills your lunches take an immediate promotion.

The obsolete cooking technique no one can replicate...? You bet he's pulling that.

Puts Uraume on the speed dial as the trials of kitchen begin for him. This time, though much to both their disappointment limited to animal meat.

Does not take long before both become grocery shopping buddies for life. Sukuna scowling at unfamiliar vegetables while Uraume patiently explains the difference between shallots and scallions to his Lord.

Weekends take a turn for the… interesting as you become their resident TikTok handler, phone propped precariously on the counter while they attempt to recreate the latest viral trends. Fruit Roll ice cream remains mind blowingly top tier in your household. Getting a reaction even from Uraume.

Sukuna preens under the praise at office potlucks, basking in the envious stares directed at your lunchbox. Every "wow" and "that looks amazing" fuels his ego.

But the real win? Insanely proud when he sees you take pictures of the lunches he makes and even more so when you show him the stories you post on the internet (save his old soul).

Deep into his retirement phase of immortality, Sukuna discovers the joy of aesthetic. This man takes one look at dark academia, gothic Victorian mood boards and not your living room looks like a lair worthy of a final boss villain (which, to be fair, it kind of already was)..

Super into thrifting or picking a random haunted piece of furniture to add character to your living space as he insists, despite your very real concerns about the wailing coming from the armchair at 3 am.

Still a baddie tho. Will get into fights with loud neighbors or bachelor pad finance bros when their trash isn't sorted properly. And it, unfortunately is your responsibility to drag this man back home.

Cleaning is where he draws the line. You will not spot Sukuna with a duster. Ever. So, hiring a cleaning service seemed like a brilliant solution. Except, Sukuna couldn't resist micromanaging their every move. The poor cleaning staff — a battle-hardened group of professionals — withered under his endless critiques on porcelain dusting techniques. Needless to say, generous tips were the only reason they continued to show up.

The King of Curses, a being who once feasted in halls of obsidian and dined on delicacies fit for gods. Yet, the peace and ownership of your little townhouse is sweeter than any other possession of past. His dirty little heart is endeared to his home with you.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #fluff #househusband au #ryomen sukuna

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

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In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (1/?)

Summary: Sequel to In Flames I Sleep Soundly; After the divorce, Wanda refuses to give you up.

Chapter word count: 5k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Masturbation

Author’s Note: So... this AU wouldn’t leave me. For my new readers, you don’t have to read the first installment . This can be read as a standalone. Title is based on lyrics of “This Love” by Taylor Swift

AO3 | Masterlist

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta

Next Chapter: Two

One

It’s not a god damn funeral, Wanda thinks as she stares at her black outfit.

With a huff, she makes the quick decision to reach for the zipper near the curve of where her spine becomes her head, and then pulls it down so hastily it gets out of track and refuses to budge further than her waist.

Shit, Wanda curses under her breath, wiggling her arms from its sleeves, which isn’t exactly difficult given her recent weight loss. At first she tries to shimmy her body out of the dress, but she only succeeds in getting stuck further and sweating under her pits. Unfortunately the weight loss didn’t happen around her middle, and she also couldn’t get it to move upwards and over her head. The options are to either fix the zipper or destroy the dress. Wanda picks the latter.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she starts to frantically cut through the silky material. Her heart races as she terrorizes the dress with fervor–grunting Sokovian words she’s surprised she still remembers–until the dress pools at her feet in tatters. Wanda feels her energy depleted after, and she crawls on the bed to lie face down, on her stomach.

To some degree, her recent outbursts are gradually becoming a concern, especially since she’s back in her old Manhattan neighborhood. The smallest, most insignificant things tick her off, and a densely populated city like New York is filled with them.

Like last week, when she was shopping at Trader Joe’s, and someone kept hitting her backside with their cart while waiting at the counter.

“I swear to god, if you don’t lay the fuck off–” Wanda’s ears burned when she looked over her shoulder and saw a frail, old woman who looked like she didn't have many years left in her.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda croaked out and then pressed her lips in a straight hard line.

“Oh, it’s alright. We all have bad days. But sweetheart,” The old woman warmly smiled at her and then leaned closer as if to share a secret. “You need to get laid.” She added like she’s giving some age-old, archaic advice.

Wanda’s smile in return was pasty, and she hurried to remove almost half of the stuff(not without receiving a dirty look from an employee who had to put them all back) in her basket so she could leave the counter as soon as possible.

The mysterious universe had a dark sense of humor. It was sex that brought her to this manic-depressive, freak-out-at-a-grocery-store behavior, and to be told by a stranger that she needed more of it was just the icing on top of this tremendous fuckery of a year she’s had.

Wanda turns on her back and closes her eyes for a minute. She doesn’t even know why she’s wasted an hour of choosing what to wear for the day she gets legally separated from you. And yet she couldn’t help but give an extra effort to look good for you. All she knows is the days she gets to see you are rare. She can count on one hand the times you’ve met since that fateful lunch at the diner back in Westview. She needs to look her best in these opportunities.

She needs to look her best, and hopes you’d notice.

Glancing back at her wide-open wardrobe, that’s when she spots it. Hiding in the furthermost end of her rack, is a decade-old sundress she’s kept all this time.

The memory rises unbidden to her mind, before she could stop it.

It was the dress she wore on her first date with you. She recalls picking it specifically because it’s green. She wanted it to match her eyes–your favorite part of her body. It made you gape. It made you go almost stupid with want, forgetting the way to the restaurant where you made reservations because you wouldn’t stop staring at her.

By the end of that night though, the dress was lost somewhere along the trip from the door to the bedroom.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You whispered against her swollen lips, breaking the kiss while your hands roamed all over her shaking frame. Wanda merely moaned and put her lips to your neck, kissing every inch of available skin to her.

You’ve known each other for years. It didn’t feel like you were moving too fast. Rather, it was a culmination of sorts–seemingly platonic hugs that lasted just a tad longer than they should, the way your eyes always found each other in a crowded room, kisses on the cheek that came too close to the mouth. And not to mention, the other people you’ve both dated in those times of being more than friends but less than lovers.

The pace was actually agonizingly slow. A slow burn that had put all other slow burns to shame.

You directed Wanda back to your mouth and the kiss that ignited again is its own kind of sex. God, she never really understood the fuzz about making out because her sexual experiences in the past didn’t really pay much attention to foreplay. For a while, she was simply content with the sliding of lips and tongues. But then you dropped to the floor and began pulling down her soaked thong, while your dilated eyes never left hers.

Wanda’s breath hitched at seeing you fall to your knees and gaze at her with incomparable reverence. How could you worship her when you yourself were so achingly beautiful?

She needed you to touch her soon or she’d go crazy. “Please.”

Her panties only made it past one ankle before you dove in to taste her for the first time.

Wanda of the present comes at the ghost sensation of your tongue against her throbbing clit. In truth, it’s just her fingers that brought her to climax while she kneels at the center of her bed, her ruined underwear down past her thighs. She bucks her hips a couple of more times before falling back to the mattress, spent.

That old lady was right. An orgasm does help.

The divorce is final.

Today, she signed away any legal right she has as your partner. As for everyone else in the meeting room, it’s just another ordinary day to dissolve a marriage.

Wanda’s wearing the sundress that sort of accidentally gave her release this morning. You keep looking at her, no wonder trying to figure out why the dress looks so familiar. And Wanda can’t look at you straight in the eye without blushing.

You came in with your ever reliable back-up: Natasha. Now that you’re no longer married to her, Wanda’s insecurities about the true nature of your relationship with Natasha has come up to the surface. The way Natasha would pat your back and ask you if you’re alright. The way she’d ask you if you’d like something to drink. The way she also knows you take your coffee black with three teaspoons of brown sugar.

The way she’s just always there.

It annoys her enough that you said Natasha was your person, because then what was she to you? The title of soulmate triumphs over wife, and Wanda wants to be both. She wants all the titles.

Well, maybe not all. She definitely doesn’t want to be called your ex-wife. But she’ll accept the reality for your sake. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she’ll give you everything you want, even if it puts her on the sidelines.

“Hey, do you want to get coffee?” Wanda breaks the spell of silence that lasted some five minutes when your lawyers and Natasha left the room to give you two a moment.

She immediately wants to take back her words when you look at her incredulously like she had grown another head on her lithe, sagged shoulders.

“Seriously?” you say, and spitefully chuckle.

Wanda says nothing, just resorts to quietly admiring you in a skirt suit she’s never seen you wear before. In the short time you’ve both been separated, she’s noticed little changes of yours that makes her homesick for you. You will wear new clothes and shoes, get a new haircut, try a new hobby, walk a certain way, and then all these changes will pile up until you become this inconceivable stranger. Still beautiful–but a stranger nonetheless. She knows the consequences of her actions are harder on you, but maybe, just maybe, it’s equally hard for her too.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” you sigh, despondent. “Maybe for you it’s not, but today is the worst day of my life, Wanda. Or second. Or third. I don’t know. There’s so many of them recently, but this is definitely in the top three. I just want to be alone.”

Wanda will never get used to the way you’re now just either angry or tired of dealing with her. She’s afraid to reassess the odds of getting you back and finding out it’s worse than zero.

“Right,” Wanda says, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You hum in response.

“It is, you know?” Wanda says.

You shoot her a quizzical look.

“It’s hard for me too,” Wanda clarifies. “I spent all morning picking out what to wear and getting all dolled-up, in desperate hopes you’d–you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad, or–”

“No,” Wanda cuts in in panic. Somehow she keeps saying the wrong things. “It’s hard for me. Because it’s the end for our marriage when all I want is to be with you right now.”

You avert your gaze and nod solemnly at her as if you understood.

Do you?

Do you, perhaps, feel the same way? Or is she the only one still in love?

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you say, eyes downcast still refusing to meet her eyes. “I know it’s unfair for me to act like I’m the only one who’s hurting. I just–I’m tired of being angry and sad and lost all the time. And it doesn’t exactly help when you’re around. For once, I want to feel something else and I need to be alone to figure it out.”

I want to move on from you, is what Wanda thinks you really want to say and her eyes well up. This time, she prays you don’t glance her way. She might just break down right in front of you if you do. She’s never known this kind of desolation. And she only has herself to blame.

For once, she’s thankful for Natasha’s presence when she interrupts the moment, asking if you’re ready to leave.

“I am.” you tell Natasha. You get up and round the long table to approach Wanda. She could no longer stop the tears from falling when she felt you place your hand softly on her shoulder. The touch is so featherlight, it may as well just be her imagination.

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”

The pain that racks her entire body causes her to visibly shake. She has no idea how she’s still alive at this point. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes for a do-over. But the clock only moves forward, and it’s still moving to take you away.

Maybe time will also be the one to bring you back someday.

Two Months Later

Wanda hasn’t seen you since the divorce. Not once. Nor has she heard from you at all. While you didn’t downright reject her when she had told you that she’d try to get you back, her unanswered texts and unreturned calls should be more than enough to tell her otherwise.

Her only consolation is that you haven’t blocked her number yet. A few days after she last saw you, she texted to remind you to pick up the last of your things she has in possession. Natasha showed up at her door the very next morning, which confirms you still get her texts. The items are inconsequential in nature, but Wanda had the hardest time putting them in a box.

She spent an unnecessary amount of time arranging your hardbound books alphabetically (“It’s just not the same, but a Kindle user would never understand.” you’d explain to her whenever you’d shop for more) and cleaning each protector of your small collection of Funko toys (“A dozen more of those and you won’t have space left in your side of the cabinet. What does that leave you with?” Wanda would reprimand you after seeing a shopping bag full of them in the trunk of the car. “Happiness.” you’d reply with a sheepish grin).

She smiled contritely after she had sealed the package; how ironic that she terribly missed the things about you she’s the least fond of. It’s as if the grieving doesn’t have an end. And if she had known you’d send Natasha to retrieve them, she wouldn’t have given them away. She wanted to keep them��wants to keep more of you as much as possible. Wanda wouldn’t call herself a masochist though. Not really.

Because it’s not over yet. It will take as long as it needs to, and it won’t matter. Patience is her utmost virtue.

And Wanda believes you feel the same, because there are midnights where her phone would ring from an unknown number. She’d answer and listen to shaky, shallow breaths for a minute before the person on the other line ends the call. It couldn’t be anyone else but you, could it? These moments are always hazy, however, muddled by wine and prescription pills. But Wanda swears they happen.

The days aren’t so bleak when she pretends she’s still your wife, and you’re just in some faraway place–like a soldier that has gone to war, she’s left to count the days until she’s in your arms again. She goes about her routine as she’s always done when the two of you were still together; go for a run in the mornings, have eggs and toast for breakfast, and then walk Sparky in the afternoon. Her evenings, excruciating and long, are the loneliest hours. Sleep won’t come easy to her, if it comes at all. Her heart mostly breaks as well for Sparky, who still waits by the door around the time you used to arrive home from work. He’d patiently wait there until Wanda would call for him, or fall asleep in the exact same spot. And it’s not like she can talk to him and explain why you won’t come home. All Wanda can do is wait for Sparky to forget this learned behavior or forget you.

So, for the past two months, she’s been taking it one day at a time. It’s now the only way she knows how to survive. It’s working so far, she muses, as she stands before the proof of it while carrying Sparky under her arm, right in the middle of a quiet street in Queens.

Wanda had loaned the capital for the business right after the divorce papers were signed, and when she got the alimony from it, it was more than enough to pay back the loan in full and still for some change.

She wanted to create something out of what she had destroyed.

And that’s how the borough’s first Sokovian café came to be. Or at least will come to be when the renovations are finally completed. She can’t see much through the scaffolding that is still in place, but she can make out what it would look like once it’s officially open to the public.

Her contractor and fellow Sokovian migrant, Mr. Jacobs spots her from where he is installing the signage. “Ms. Maximoff!”

Wanda smiles up at him, brushing her bangs away from her sight. The haircut is recent and she kind of regrets it. “Is everything okay around here?”

“I believe so. There’s still some electrical stuff to finish, but I’m confident we’ll be done before your opening.” he tells Wanda.

Sparky starts squirming against Wanda’s hold. “Is it okay to come inside or should I come back another day?” Wanda asks.

“Of course. I had my boys clear out the area and install the A/C last night, so you should be comfortable.”

Perfect. She’s yet to test out the oven she ordered, and there are some new recipes she’d like to try.

“And Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, this place is going to do great. They’re gonna love you and our culture.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through Wanda’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” He gives her a salute before going back to work.

Wanda’s not ready for the emotion that consumes her when she steps inside her new café. She puts Sparky down on the hardwood flooring, and his nose immediately gets to work, sniffing every corner of the room he could find–which isn’t all that long to cover for a regular-sized Jack Russell Terrier like him. The rented space is relatively small, so Wanda had to be smart with its interior design; a long bench stretches from the open kitchen and counter to about two feet from the entrance, spanning two round dining tables that could sit two people at a time; by the window wall facing the street, is a high top table with two chairs. At most, three staff(including her) could fit in the open kitchen, along with a single espresso machine and a wall oven. All in all, the café can accommodate about six customers dining in at a time, which is why she’s hoping she’d do better with take-outs.

Wanda did all the decorations herself, top to bottom. The floral ceilings are a combination of autumn colors–your favorite season–and pendant lights subtly drop from them to emit a faint, yellow glow. The polished concrete wall of the dining area gives it an industrial vibe, while red brick tiles clad the panels of the kitchen area. For the finishing touches, Wanda decided to place a variety of potted plants in every corner of the room.

Standing at the center of it all, Wanda feels a sense of pride and fulfillment–something that seemed implausible to her just a few months before.

"Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a café business." You’d joke sometimes whenever she makes you coffee in the morning.

A shadow passes over her eyes as she looks out the window. Needless to say, there’s only one thing missing in it. The person she wants next to her when all her dreams come true.

You.

–

Pietro finishes a whole batch of white chocolate macadamia cookies by himself. Wanda’s twin brother flew in last weekend, a rare occurrence since she only sees him once a year at most. He’d be home in the holidays for dinner, and be gone the following day. He lives with a suitcase, and never stays in a city for longer than two weeks. Wanda wasn’t expecting he’d visit her after she broke the news of her divorce, knowing he had gone through the same ordeal twice already without fuss. Apparently, it’s a run-of-the-mill life event for her brother, and it almost did not make it to their bimonthly check-in calls.

“You’re gonna have to pay me for those.” Wanda tells him. She’s crouched on the floor, feeding Sparky strips of dried meat as she takes a break between baking and practicing her Youtube-acquired skill of Latte Art.

“I thought it’s a welcome home gift.” Pietro says, licking off the crumbs from his fingers. With the bleach in his hair extending to his medium stubbles, their resemblance is close to nonexistent.

“You earn ten times more than I do in a year.”

“So? What is family for if not free food?”

“It’s $52 dollars.” Wanda says.

Pietro hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Wanda smirks at him, pocketing the money in her apron. “I intended to.” She passes him a napkin, and gestures at his chin. He waves her off in a pompous manner, and instead, goes to the back of the shop to clean himself up. She didn’t think it’s possible to both know and not know someone at the same time. To look at them and see who they are versus who you think they’re supposed to be. In terms of money and status, he is miles ahead of Wanda, but perhaps at the cost of being unable to find the brother she shared her childhood with in Sokovia. Wanda’s not sure if he still exists beneath the layers of branded suits and expensive perfumes, she just knows she misses him terribly.

“Second Chances,” Pietro proclaims as he returns a minute later, waving his hands wildly with an imitation of a fanfare. “A little corny if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you,” Wanda contends and then proceeds to scrub the empty tray that Pietro left in the wake of his cookie binge. “It’s a good name. People can interpret it however they want.”

“And you? What was on your mind when you came up with it?”

Wanda doesn’t answer that.

“So,” Pietro jumps into a sitting position on the counter and lets his legs dangle from its edge.

“How’s the quarter-life crisis, sis?”

Wanda cocks an eyebrow and gives him a once over. “Better than yours. All things considered.”

Sparky comes up to him and stands on his hind legs to snuffle at his shiny loafers.

“Touché,” Pietro laughs good-naturedly and crosses his legs to avoid the dog’s attention. “It’s weird though, seeing you get into this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks.

“You’re not a salesperson, Wands. Remember your girl scout days? Dad would buy all your cookies because you can’t sell for shit.”

Wanda snorts noisily through her nose. “Mom can’t bake for shit.” She notices the smile fall from his lips at the offhand jab at her brother’s favored parent.

Wanda sighs. When she does get glimpses of the old Pietro, it’s mostly through negative triggers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Wanda starts to apologize but Pietro quickly changes the subject without a preamble.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you.”

Wanda suddenly drops the tray on the sink, the violent sound of metal hitting metal giving both of them a minor headache. She pauses to think, and then says, “How about you just ask me straight instead of skirting around the topic of she-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Okay,” Pietro says in an annoyingly placid tone. “What were you thinking, cheating on Y/N?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She did ask him to be blunt.

“I wasn’t. There’s… I don’t know how to explain it. There’s this missing gap, and I acted to fill that gap.”

“Was it something that’s missing in your relationship?” Pietro asks and props his cheek on his palm. The question is so familiar to her because she’s asked it herself countless times, the day she kissed Vision for the first time. There wasn’t an epiphany nor were there pieces falling into place when she had slept with him. And when she thought she loved him, it wasn’t because she thought she loved you any less. She came to the conclusion, not too long ago, that perhaps there’s just something rotten inside of her that she simply wasn’t aware of.

Wanda shakes her head, weary at making sense of herself and her decision to risk everything she’s built with you for something as cheap as a fling. “None of this was her fault. Her only mistake was falling for someone who’s way beneath her.”

“I always thought she’s too good for you, no offense.”

Wanda’s smile is brittle as she recalls how Pietro’s toast at the wedding started with that exact sentence, word-for-word. You had squeezed Wanda’s clammy hand as you listened to Pietro rant about Wanda, and jokingly express his regret that you married the lesser twin. Wanda apologized for his tactlessness, and you responded with a kiss to her cheek, telling her how wrong he was, how you were only good and she made you better.

“I’m sorry, Wands,” Pietro tells her earnestly. “I can’t say I’ve been through the same thing even with two divorces under my belt. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone the way you both were with each other–or at least, the way she was in love with you.”

“Thanks, but that's not necessary. I’m going to fix it.” she says.

It stings–the implication that Wanda was incapable of matching your love for her. But it only stings because it’s the truth. You deserve to be happy and she failed. And yet, she also can’t survive the thought of you getting the happiness you deserve from someone else. After all this time, her selfishness hasn’t been tamed.

Which is why Pietro’s next words hit her right in the gut. “Divorce can’t be fixed. Hell, it’s the only resolution for a terminal relationship. And hasn’t it crossed your mind that perhaps, she’s already met someone else?”

Wanda gives up on her search for the rolling pin. She cracks some eggs in a bowl and starts to furiously whisk by hand.

Maybe she’s an awful person for assuming you won’t be able to move on from her that easily.

But that’s just how she sees it.

“No.” she says.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know her, Piet.”

Pietro starts clapping in slow, steady beats. “She divorces you and you’re still so smug about how she’s so crazy about you.” he says.

“If you’ve ever felt loved by someone like her, you’d understand.”

Pietro ignores his sister’s underhanded attempt to hurt him back. He came to terms with the reality ages ago, that he’s probably not one of the lucky ones who will get to experience the kind love that Wanda boasts about with you. Maybe he had it once, not necessarily in a romantic sense. But when he thinks of love–real love–he thinks of no one but their estranged mother.

“Or maybe,” He jumps off the counter to retrieve his coat hanging from one of the dining chairs. “Love goes away eventually.”

“Not ours.”

Pietro couldn’t help the maniac laughter that escapes his throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

Wanda purses her lips, continues whisking.

“Okay, how about this. If you really love her, then you’d at least want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you.” Pietro tries to reason.

“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on the topic.”

“I’m a dick, not an asshole. And yes, there’s a difference.”

Wanda keeps working the whisk like a madwoman. Large amounts of bubbles are forming in the emulsion, and overbeating the egg mixture is definitely not in the recipe.

Pietro continues, “Yeah, I’m a cheater, same as you are–”

“Don’t you dare–” Wanda suddenly tosses the whisk on the worktop, a glint of something dangerous in her green eyes.

“Let me finish,” Pietro appeases lightly. “I’m a cheater. I cheated on my ex-wives. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself as some anti-hero who has the potential to be an actual hero and become the person they deserve to be with. Because I’ll never be that guy.”

“We’re not the same. We share a birthday, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“We share the same DNA, Wanda,” Pietro smiles through his frustration. Excessive stubbornness–another quality innate to Maximoffs. “But that’s not the point. You know she’d be better off without you. As cliché as it sounds, the only way you can actually show her you love her is by letting her go–completely.”

The shuddering sigh that escapes her is immediately followed by erratic sobs that go out of control fast. Pietro is right there in an instant, an arm thrown over her shoulder as her whole body jerks, rasping for air.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he murmurs into her crown. “You’ll be okay, Wands. I promise…you’ll be okay.”

“Will you be okay if I leave you here? I have to meet someone in a few.”

Wanda heard you say in earnest. She lost herself for a while, stunned by the kindest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The day flew by so quickly in your company, she hadn’t realized it was time to go. And to think that she almost skipped freshman orientation because going to New York University wasn’t exactly the plan. Columbia was–where her boyfriend was a junior.

Her boyfriend, who she forgot texted her an hour ago asking if she was ready to go, and hadn’t heard back from her.

“Y-Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” she mumbled, distracted by the glow of the sunset forming a halo around your head. You were beautiful in a way that was not entirely evident at first. Wanda was curious if anybody else had made the same discovery.

“It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”

“Likewise, Y/N.” she smiled like she’d been doing all day with you, and so frequently, that the muscles on her face were beginning to hurt a little.

The smile you returned her way was glorious, but in a flash you were already walking away. Wanda couldn’t describe the way she fervently despised watching you go, especially without your number on her phone and no means to contact you in the future.

“Y/N?” Wanda called out. Her heart seemed to swell and swing against her rib cage.

“Yes?”

“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”

And the kindest eyes that ever looked at her gave the answer.

Pietro leaves shortly after the tremors subside and her breathing returns to normal. The panic attacks aren’t that frequent, but she does get them now from time-to-time. They started right after the night you gave Wanda your wedding ring.

With her brother gone, Wanda is left to wonder if you’ve met someone. She is left to wonder if you’re no longer miserable like she is, if you’ve taken considerable strides in moving on with your life. She tries calling you. Not to talk, but just to check if you still haven’t blocked her number. After several rings, you don’t pick up as expected. Not a setback. Not a progress either. She pretends you’re asleep or in the shower. She pretends you mean to call her back, but forgets to.

And if a confirmation of not being blocked is all she gets, she’ll take it.

She’ll take what you can give even if it’s nothing.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #marvel #unbetad #My writing #my fic

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that-one-xachster · 6 months ago

Text

Megumi x Childhood Bestie!Reader Hcs part two

ok I'm continuing this lmfao

so lets get to the part after go/joe kidnaps itadori

and you're just chilling with megumi in his room questioning all life choices

and he's questioning life itself

"crabs probably think fish can fly"

"...what did you eat today"

"tuna mayo"

"istg if you pull the Inumaki crap-"

"bean bags are boneless sofas"

"wHaT"

"...I want a beanbag."

*audibly sighs*

so yeah very fun

and you have a sleepover with him bc like

why not

and drama

so let's say todays that very special once in a lifetime day that you fall asleep INSTANTLY

and like just boom "I'm tired" you're knocked out

and megumi's just there like "gurl??"

my bro is absolutely done cause you're like taking up most of his bed

and personal space

give the man a break 😔✋

so he tries shoving you a lil to the side

keyword: tries

but you're a stubborn person so you don't budge

also you're gripping the bed for dear life in your sLEEP-

you haven't grown out of it lmao

megumi pulls his iconic face and is just

absolutely done at this point

so-

he's known you since childhood anyway right

and you're asleep right

right

so you won't mind if he just plops on top of you and cuddle-spoons you while your sleeping to create space right 😊

just to create space

you don't mind even when you're awake but megumi doesn't know that-

so yes he lies on top of you- wraps an arm around your waist- and spoons you while he falls asleep-

im giggling squealing kicking my feet writing this don't mind me

so yes he's still spooning you while you're asleep-

and in the morning he wakes up first ehe-

bc sleep = none or sleep = all

"all's well thats well for me"

iykyk

but you're still sleeping

and its like 7:30 am

its too early for this shit

so he just stays in bed cuddling you

and boom half an hour later you wake up

but you pretend to be sleeping heh

why

plot

so you two are technically cuddling rn and then my bro realizes that your awake-

and hes like

"oh good morning"

yeah we're totally gonna gaslight

"good morning to you too"

we're gonna keep up the gaslighting

so you turn around and you're facing megumi and you're like what time is it he's like 8:30 am or sum

so you both get up bleh the boring stuff

AND THIS IS THE MOMENT WHERE ITADORI IS GETTING SHOWN HIS ROOM SO-

YOU SEE WHERE THIS IS GOING

so then megumi walks out of the room but you're still inside cause why not

and then itadori and megumi have some bro talk and you just pop up behind megumi-

itadori sHRIEKS

gojos like 'did u two have a sleepover 😼'

and megumi ofc is like 'why do you care'

and itadori goes-

GASPPP ARE YOU TWO DATING???

the way your faces heat up so fast

FACES

WITH AN S

PLURAL

MEGUMI'S BLUSHING TOO

and hes like 'what the f no i'm not dating this idiot here'

you're like 'i wish 😔'

tHE WAY HE BLUSHES HARDER

no this does not go unnoticed by gojo and he whips out his phone faster than lightning mcqueen and bombards him with pictures

'smile for the camera megumi~'

'boy if you don't shut your skin tone chicken bone google chrome no home flip phone disowned ice cream cone garden gnome extra chromosome metronome dimmadome genome full blown monochrome student loan Indiana jones overgrown flintstone x and Y chromosome hormone friend zone Sylvester Stallone Sierra loan autozone professionally seen silver patrone head ass up-'

yes I had to

anyway y'all gotta go pick up the other first year aka nobara

and you're like

"OOH OOH GOJO SENSEI BOY OR GIRL"

"hehe you'll see"

so you make all of them speed to wherever the hell yer picking her up

idt I mentioned you slept in the car and your head was on megumis shoulder eheh

itadori kept teasing him and won't let him live it down fr

so yk nobara and her iconic scene

you have no shame

and you drink your respect women juice

im trying to make this gender neutral 😭

you see the uniform and you're cheering her on so much like

"WOO YEAHHH- PUT HIM IN HIS PLACE YOU GO GIRL-"

and shes like tf is this crazy bish doing

but you're just really excited to have another person in the group cause being around the same uh 7-8 people can get boring

so you meet her and you're pretty excited

"be glad boys, you're getting another girl in the group."

now that drops your opinion

so you have a smol idea

to uh

you whisper something in her ear and the wAY HER EXPRESSION DROPS

guess what you said <3 bc ik ofc I wanna see what y'all think

anyhoo so then shes like WHAT THE HELL and drops it

and boom you pull your feminine/masculine/nonbinary wiles and she's now your bestie

and gojo says we're going sOmEwHeRe

and nobara and itadori get so excited

yk the EJWRHTKWJEHTAUIETHR and the hugging gojo

you're standing next to megumi though cause you know whats coming

the way their face drops when y'all go to that messed up school- was it a school?

anyway yuji and nobara go in and you're outside with megumi and gojo

y'all are sitting down nearby

you're tired af with this shit so you just plop your head down in megumi's lap and no questions he just lets you

and hes running his fingers through your HAIRRRRR

*screaming*

so you have some lovey-dovey time and gojo sneaks a picture cause he low-key ships you two

and after the two come out y'all just walk back very nice day

okay moving on from the boring stuff he goes back to his dorm

is developing a crush ehe

so hes just lying in bed thinking like

WHY TF AM I FEELING THIS WAY OVER THAT IDIOT RAHHHH

poor guys conflicted

but good for you hehe

sigh I'm tired ill write a part 3 later lmao

#megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #megumi is still an icon #he needs to sort out his feelings though #cmon man you like her

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shmowder · 6 months ago

Note

Your blog is making me want to replay Patho 2 again... I did play once on the intended difficulty, and then I replayed it afterwards on the easiest settings, doing everything and saving everyone and I'm ngl, that was some of the most fun I've ever had even though it wasn't quite in the spirit of the game haha

The so-called spirit of the game is this senior citizen wirh an overgrown 2000s anime boy haircut who shakes his cane at you sassily when you choose to only swallow a handful of razors as opposed to the razor muckbang the game offers.

I finished the game on the hardest difficulty

This was my first time playing the game ever. I straight up went to the intended difficulty, saved everyone, did everything, and never starved for a single day. I had 20+ Shmowders by the end. I was fully stocked on meat, I was fully stocked on homemade antibiotics and maxed the hospital shift each day.

All of that with only 3 Deaths

WHERE IS MY FUCKING CELEBRATION HUH? WHERE IS MY MEDAL? NO ONE THEW ME A PARTY, NO ONE INVITED BELLA HADID >:( MARK WASN'T IMPRESSED.

Fuck you Mark! ONE OF THOSE DEATHS WAS BULLSHIT YOU DUMB SLUT. YOU SPAWNED A GUY ON TOP OF ME WHILE I WAS PICKING UP HERBS, HOW THE FUCK DID HE ONE SHOT ME WITH FULL HEALTH HUH? YOU WHORE.

What I'm saying is. Look, we both finished the game on complete opposite extremes, yet we're both here. In a pathologic x reader blog on tumblr. We both had fun and shared a good understanding of the plot and characters. That's what matters. Everything else is just people patting themselves on the shoulder. You're the only one who will be impressed with the fact you beat the game flawlessly, and you're the only one who will be bothered by the fact you picked an easier difficulty

Because it's really not that different. To me, I have the kind of autism that makes games like pathologic smoother than water for me, I thrived on the ruthlessness of dark soul and did a no death run in darkest dungeon. But also. I absolutely suck at casual games, I can't play Stardew Valley unless I'm fully cheating, I can't for the life of me beat a single platforming game because I have a slow reaction speed.

Play Pathologic however you want! Ice-pick Joe isn't gonna pop from under your bed at 3am to beat you up with hammers. This is coming from the most tryhard difficulty elitism person there is in games.

Buttttt. I do recommend giving Pathologic classic HD a try. I promise anyone who beat Pathologic 2 on ANY difficultly will cuck tf out of the first game. There is no thirst! The vendors have unlimited money, and you can sell all of your trash to them! THE ECONOMY IS THRIVING I BOUGHT FOOD ON THE DAYS THE PRICES WERE SKYROCKETING BC I COULD AFFORD IT. I would've never financially recovered from buying food in P2 on any day that's not the first one. In P1, I rarely slept because I was deepthroating lemons and snorting coffee beans day and night since I could easily afford the health/hunger penalty.

Meanwhile, in P2, I'd save coffee beans to sell to get enough money to save up for army clothes.

The combat is so forgiving, the houses with good loot aren't the infected ones like in P2 but the burned ones! The AI in that game is so stupid you can trick plague clouds into disappearing if you stand still! You can glitch and jump over fences to take shortcuts through the town! YOU CAN SCAM THAT CUNT ANDREY STAMATIN FOR ENDLESS SHOTGUNS.

Lastly don't forget that 90% of the Pathologic fandom haven't even played any of the games at all. 70% probably never watched a single playthrough either and just video essays instead.

In the steam version of Pathologic 2, Only 10% of players who bought the game have ever reached the end.

10% !!! That's us there! Me and You! It doesn't matter how what matters is that we both did it while 90% of people gave up.

And the situation in the classic game is even more dire tbh-

Only 6% ever opened the game and made it through the first day. Only 3% ever made it to the last day.

So, really good on you for finishing the game! Good on me for finishing the game! WE DID IT! YAY! Someone really should give Bella Hadid a call.

Also, please do yourself a favour and ignore whatever the video essayist says about the difficulty of the games. They're good storytellers for building an interesting narrative to watch, but they're not good at videogames assessment. Each of their reasons is very personalised by their own experience and doesn't necessarily mean other people will struggle with the same issues. Don't listen to anyone who tells you picking an easy difficulty ruins the game either, Pathologic doesn't relay on its brutal gameplay to shine, it can more stand on its own as a narrative story walking game. If anything, it would probably shine better on easier difficulties when you have time to dig for context clues and plot without starvation breathing down your neck. I missed some flavour text quests because I was too stressed about balancing different objectives to do them or pay attention when something important was said.

#♧other #Pathologic 2 #pathologic classic hd #pathologic

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ronearoundblindly · 1 year ago

Text

Hit By Fate

a Steve Rogers x Reader life lesson

[This is my own entry for my 1-1-1 Challenge, but also is a very belated gift fic for @itickledthesleepingdragon. May we all remember that we are worth care and consideration!💜] WC 2365

Recommended links: Habibi Through The Years--The Old Guard fandom, Joe/Nicky (Ao3) Invaluable--Star Wars fandom, dad!Obi-Wan

Summary: It's just an accident, and you're totally fine. One handsome man, however, does not agree.

It’s not their fault; it’s just bad luck.

You should have texted to confirm this morning, but since Syd told you she’d text you if anything changed, you didn’t want to pry. Your friends make enough fun of you already for never coming out. You didn’t want to give them one more story in their long list of times you bailed. They already think you’re allergic to fun, so tonight you were going to show them.

You’d rushed to the restaurant after work. You even woke up early to do your hair before work so that you’d still look nice. You brought a purse to transfer your wallet and keys and makeup into so as not to carry your much larger work bag around. You even drank less water the entire afternoon so you wouldn’t be rushing to the restroom and slowing down your cross-city commute.

But then you arrived and there was no reservation.

Not under anyone’s name.

The hostess seemed outstandingly indifferent to your situation. You stepped aside for other patrons, sneaking peeks through the wonky glass dividers to catch a glimpse of your friends at a table maybe, and you texted one.

>>Hey.

<<Whaddup? Tiff replies.

>>You guys here yet?

<<Where?

You give the name of the restaurant and feel your guts crash to the polished wood floor.

<<We were there earlier. Yeah. Why?

Your hands start to shake with anxiety and a touch of rage.

>>I thought we were meeting at 7

The dots show up and disappear. The hostess huffs, staring at you while striking through a line on her paper. You’re blocking one of four total doors to enter the building, but apparently, that’s still taking up too much space.

<<Syd and Karol got off at 4 so we just had drinks early

<<TGIF

<<On a pub crawl now

They know you still work tomorrow. They know you likely would barely drink at dinner. You know exactly why no one would bother asking you if you could get out of work early, and you know they would not try any spontaneous fun for your first time out in months. They didn’t ask because they knew you’d say ‘no,’ or even worse, they knew you’d say ‘yes’ but be uncomfortable the entire time.

You try to call Syd, a last-ditch effort to get a lock on just how drunk or how far away they are. You tell yourself that if they are close and seem relatively coherent (and if the bar serves some small plates of something because you are hungry) then you’ll go. You will absolutely go.

Syd doesn’t pick up. You try Karol. No dice.

Fine. You turn to ask the hostess if there is space at the bar to eat, but she looks at you with such annoyance and a raised finger while she handles a couple who clearly out-rank you in some way.

Defeated, you leave instead.

This whole thing has taken so little time that you’d have to wait another ten minutes for the next bus back. You just walk, staring down at your phone, willing one of them to talk to the other, willing one of them to realize they’ve left you behind.

Do they even care that they’ve done it? Are they even your friends anymore?

The sad part is that you don’t go out much, but these are the friends you go out with the most. It just so happens that’s a few times a year, and that is you trying. This is you pushing yourself.

It’s not good enough.

Just as the WALK sign lights up at the street corner, the dots show back up under Syd’s message, and you shove it closer to your face.

You don’t see it coming.

A cab’s bumper smacks your left leg and bats you sideways. The solid hit feels like a tumble on the ice rink. It spins you, your phone flying out of your hands, and you’re scrambling not to fall. Your muscles tense every which way that’s not natural, probably looking klutzy.

You shoot back up too fast and look around, wondering if people are staring at you now, but the few other people crossing simply walk on by.

The cabbie only rolls down his window.

“You okay?”

Not actively concerned. Not getting out of the car. Not even apologizing.

But if you’d kept walking, you’d be across already. If you weren’t just standing there, the cab would be able to turn and so would the several others behind him.

One honks.

“Fine,” you say quietly, waving him on for emphasis and stepping back to find your phone.

All the effort of the day, all the preparation mentally and physically, and you are stranded on the wrong side of the road, exactly where you started, metaphorically and near-actually run over.

You have to crouch down by the curb and pray your phone didn’t slide into the gutter, wincing at a particular angle that shoots pain up your left thigh. Maybe you aren’t fine.

“Miss?” a tentative, low voice calls above a classic pair of Converses on the sidewalk. “Think this is yours.”

A man in glasses and a ball cap hands your phone back, the screen mercifully intact.

It’s such a tiny blessing in this string of unfortunate events.

The breath you take turns into a whimper and ends in a sniffle. Tears sting your eyes as you start to think about what happened—what really happened—in the past minute.

“Thank you,” you choke out, snatching the device. The gesture seems aggressive after the fact. “Sorry. Thank you,” you try again.

“You okay?” How the same two words can sound so different from two people, you’ll never know, but the difference floors you harder than the car’s impact.

With the utmost care, the stranger’s hands lightly touch your shoulders and guide you out of the road.

“I’m fine.” You’re an automated recording, retreating to a quiet and lonelier space in your mind. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You got hit by a car,” he says bluntly.

“No, just a—“ you look up into the man’s face, his blond hair, his blue eyes, his strong jaw, his height “—graze.”

“Yeah, you got grazed by four thousand pounds.”

“You’re…” All you can do is point at Captain America’s chest and blink.

He frowns and whispers. “You recognize me?”

Somehow that’s the strange part?

“Shoot. The glasses usually work. Don’t…please don’t make a big deal, but I…I’m sorry I couldn’t pull you out of the way.”

Steve Rogers buries his hands in his jean pockets, folding himself more into the cover of his hoodie and leather jacket.

“You wanted to help me?” you croak.

He ticks his head in confusion, respectfully indicating that you’ve asked the one and only dumb question known to mankind.

“Why?”

You don’t even know what you’re asking about now. Why me? Why today? Why now? Why not? You don’t notice your hands are shaking until he grips them gently.

“I can take you to the hospital,” he offers.

“I’m fine.” The repeat earns you another frown. “I’m not…hurting,” you clarify.

“That’s called shock, sweetheart.”

Steve seems to catch himself and sighs.

“Sorry. What I mean to say is let’s find you some water and somewhere to sit, okay? I’ll check you out then.”

You nod immediately. He’s only half-turned when Steve spins back around.

“Not check you out check you out,” he mumbles, “just like a once over. No, not…” he sighs harder. “I am going to make sure you are alright.” Every word is strategically emphasized.

He leads you to the nearest bench. His head stays down the entire way to a newspaper stand to buy you a bottle of water.

You can tell by the way Steve monitors every move of the bottle to your lips that he fights doing it for you. From his overly attentive posture, you’re surprised he waits a whole minute to ask how you feel yet again.

Still stunned, honestly, but it’s not just your left leg that aches, it’s your whole body. That seems too pathetic to admit aloud, but if you say the ‘fine’-word one more time, he’ll surely carry you to the dang ER. He has that look.

Instead, you admit, “I’m hungry.”

A smile blossoms over his features. “I can help with that.”

The boyish glee with which Steve Rogers walks you (gingerly) to a nearby, hole-in-the-wall pizza parlor is endearing. You’re not a patient for those minutes, and when he orders for you both (there are three lines on the board and that’s the menu) while you claim a teeny tiny booth, you’re not a victim of your day.

When he tells you how he found this place originally, how it’s almost like the pizza he remembers from long ago but better, you’re not alone anymore.

“Were you going to get food when…” Steve trails off.

Maybe it’s the shock wearing too thin to mask the rest. Maybe it’s the hot cheese warming your insides and melting your anger. You spend the next ten minutes blabbing about what happened with your friends and explaining what you were doing when the cab hit you.

“So you weren’t even okay before the car?”

His words throw you for a loop.

“No, I mean, it was just a misunder—“

“You’re doing it again,” he cuts in. “You’re diminishing you in the picture.”

You take a long swig of your soda while staring blankly at him. You watch Steve realize you aren’t even going to impose on him for an explanation. He drops his slice on the plate and holds out his huge hands as props.

“The whole picture of your day, right?” His arms are wide, then he points at things on the table. “You told me about Syd and why it’s ‘fine’ that she changed plans for her own convenience. About Tiffany and Carly—“

“Karol,” you sputter mid-sip.

“Carol, right, sorry. Everyone has a -y in their names now. I just assumed.”

“Karol with a -k,” you add.

Steve…ponders whether that’s some sort of joke before waving his hands to regroup. “You told me how your other friends—using that term loosely—rationalize leaving you to eat or even navigate the city alone—“

“I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Debatable,” he chuckles. “And then you tell me about how the cab driver probably didn’t need the hassle of dealing with some minor injury he inflicted on—and I quote—‘someone.’”

His eyebrow pops up over the rim of his glasses as if that will drive his point home, but you’ve got nothing.

“Where are you in the picture?” he finally blurts. “It’s your time and your effort and your body and your safety, and you just told me everyone else is more important. They all deserve consideration before you in your own life. Including some driver who could have killed you!”

He’s getting visibly agitated the more he talks, and you shrink in the seat, not out of fear but out of guilt for taking an evening of Captain America’s time to yourself. If your friends couldn’t even stand to spend a meal with you, it makes sense that Steve would be annoyed with your company.

“Wait, there,” he points directly at your face, “what was that thought? What did you just think?”

“I—I’m sorry I—“

“What do you have to be sorry for?” Steve asks bluntly.

He must see your eyes glisten with more unshed tears because his whole body visibly softens.

“You showed up at the place you all agreed on—“ he counts on his fingers “—at the time you were told, and walked across a street with right of way.” He does what you are beginning to think of as his signature sigh. “Am I missing something?”

All you can do is chew on your bottom lip.

It takes you what feels like an eternity to notice. “I could have really been hurt,” you mumble finally. “That’s not okay.”

Steve stretches his long arm across the tiny table, opening his palm to await yours.

“I hate to tell you this. You don’t have to be torn open to be ‘really hurt,’ sweetheart.” This time he says the nickname with firm intention. He squeezes your hand. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d come to the infirmary with me and get some industrial-grade salve on what’s sure to be a nasty bruise.”

You smile sadly, still pushing away errant thoughts that you’re imposing on the Captain.

“And by the time that’s over…it’ll be time for a late-night dessert before I take you home.”

In the fluorescent light, you can see him blush fiercely.

“As an escort—escort you,” he corrects, “to your door, I mean. For safety.”

He shrugs uncomfortably to adjust his layers of disguise, hanging his head, this time to hide his face from you.

“If you ever wondered why I’d go out to pizza alone,” Steve whispers, “wonder no longer.”

He scoots across his side of the booth to stand.

You think for a long moment.

This is important. This is one of the most important men in the country—nay, the world—begging you to be the protagonist in your own life. He wants you to want that.

You deposit the last grease-crumpled napkin onto the stacked plates and clear your throat. “I like this picture,” you say first, but it’s not enough. It’s not loud enough. It doesn’t hold weight or take up its due space.

You try again.

“I like being in this picture.”

He’s tall and his gleaming white teeth are perfect and his bright blue eyes are framed by long lashes and he’s staring right at you. How could you not shoot your shot?

“I’d—“ you fight the urge to look away “—consider seeing a sequel, too.”

Steve pushes up his fake glasses and nods, still pink in the cheeks. His hesitation reads as shy, not polite, not dutiful.

He juts out an average, hoodie-covered elbow for you to balance on.

“S’pose that means I should know your name, miss, and what your favorite flavor of ice cream is.”

Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge Details

A/N: In case you were wondering, the life lesson I wrote Steve Rogers teaching us is one that I constantly struggle with, too. This is an everyday, uphill battle to recognize our own worth and know that taking care of ourselves is not selfish. I hope this serves as a wee reminder!

Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#Ro's 1-1-1 Challenge #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu fic #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america fluff

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 year ago

Text

Not your average summer romance

Chapter One - Here goes nothing

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Word count: 2k ish

Warnings: 18+ themes, fluff, kissing.

Tony Stark Masterlist

Monday

It was the mother of Mondays as you hurried out of your apartment, your pot of coffee left forgotten on the kitchen counter simply because you were running super late. You were heading to a coffee shop for your meeting with the publisher anyway.

Your last meeting had been promising, so you had your hopes up about this one. The problem was, you were late. And your publisher, Sarah, was particular about time. Praying and hoping she would forgive you just this once, you dodged foot traffic that was perpetual on the streets of New York and stumbled into the equally busy cafe.

No sign of her.

Damn it.

Did she leave?

A part of you was hopeful that she was late too. That thought was shut up rather quickly when your phone buzzed with an email from Sarah.

Hi Y/N,

I hope you’re well. I’m sorry we couldn’t meet today, you know how I am with time.

I should have done this face to face but, unfortunately the team has decided against continuing the contract. I really did try my best but you know the decision isn’t all up to me. You can call me if you want to discuss anything.

I’m really very sorry. Stay in touch and keep writing.

Regards,

Sarah Waddington

A bunch of emotions went through you as you read and re-read the email. There had been rejections in your life in the past, but none of them stung or made you mad as this.

Who does this over an email?

You shoved your phone inside your purse angrily and looked around. You were in severe need of coffee, the only pick-me-up that could work.

Making a beeline for the counter, you pushed past people and stood behind a man wearing a black suit who was furiously whispering over his comms to someone.

Your phone buzzed again. This time it was your best friend calling you, the line was moving rather slow and you needed to vent.

The man in front must have changed his order at least three times adding to your frustration which you didn’t hide. You wondered who the person on the other line was who was unable to decide on a simple coffee order.

As your friend went on about her weekend, you moved ahead to order yourself a large Americano, this day called for nothing else but a strong cup of joe; the man in the suit grabbed his coffees and a bag of muffin and turned the opposite way, straight into you.

Iced coffee spilled down your blouse and some of it on his crisp white shirt, the paper bag turning soggy wet as both of you cursed out loud. Some of your piping hot americano managed to spill down your hand in the process too.

“Are you fucking kidding me??” You yelled, part in fury, part in pain as your hand stung.

Happy Hogan profusely apologized as he tried to grab as many tissues he could to help you. The commotion had gathered enough attention in the cafe already to add to your embarrassment.

“I am really sorry, I have a spare shirt in my car if you’d like. Please ma’am.”

He kept insisting, both of you staring at your blouse that was stained beyond saving point. Uttering a small ‘fine’ you followed him out to a rather sleek Tesla Roadster.

A man sitting at the back rolled the windows down as you two approached, a pair of brown eyes peeking through expensive looking sunglasses taking in your appearance with an amused smirk.

“Boss, would you mind passing me that shirt at the back please?”

The man continued to gaze at you for a few more seconds before paying heed to his, you assumed drivers’ request. You stared back, taking in the man’s sharp suit, a rather well maintained anchor beard and eyes that checked you out shamelessly.

“Tony?”

The other guy said more forcefully this time, breaking up your little staring match. ‘Tony’ fumbled around a bit before throwing a large white t-shirt that said ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ towards the guy you found who was named Happy Hogan as they exchanged a conversation.

“Honestly Happy, I don’t feel so secure around you and by the looks of it, neither does this lady or coffee for that matter. Why did I promote you to head of security again?”

“Because I’m the only one you trust and the only one who unfortunately can put up with your tantrums.”

“What tantrums? And will I get my coffee today?”

Tony huffed, making you hide your grin behind your hand as you accepted the t-shirt from Happy.

“Here. I’ve got all the caffeine I need for the day. Stains and burns included.” You held out your cup for him, frowning when he looked at Happy instead.

“Yeah, I’ll take that. Boss doesn’t like being handed things.” Happy gratefully took the coffee you offered and gave it to Tony.

What an entitled prick! You thought.

“What address should I send this back to?” You held the t-shirt up, Tony waving his hand in dismissal.

“Oh keep it. Mr. Hogan has a closet full of cheesy, oversized graphic tees. You can send the dry cleaning bill over to Stark Industries.”

He added with a small smirk, giving your blouse one more thorough glance.

“Oh no. I have plenty of pristine white blouses that haven’t had coffee spilled over. But thank you for your generosity, Mr. Stark I presume?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“The one and only.”

Happy watched the two of you interact like a tennis match, clearing his throat audibly to break off your staring contest yet again.

“See you around, Miss..?”

“Y/N.” I really hope not, you thought to yourself, giving them a polite smile.

Taking your leave, the two men sped off, leaving you with an amused grin and Tony Stark’s unforgettable gaze that seemed to still linger.

…

That evening the doorbell rang, it was nobody but a large package with a little note.

Another pristine white blouse to add to your collection. Though this is more dinner worthy, I feel. What do you say, Ms. Wordsmith?

Tony Stark

Inside the box sat a satin white top, your size, surprisingly, and a lovely bouquet of beautiful white hydrangeas.

It was an awfully bold yet sweet gesture from someone you encountered for less than ten minutes. By the handwritten note, Tony had researched you in advance, now, it was your turn.

…

Tony’s POV

“I’ll be honest with you Ms. Wordsmith, the thing is, ever since I saw you at the coffee shop, drenched in coffee, I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

Okay, what? Did those words actually leave my mouth? That wasn’t supposed to be uttered in front of her. Sure, the statements were true, but, whatever happened to the smooth-talker, unapologetic womanizer Tony! He was back at the lab probably judging the shit outta this guy.

The air conditioning was faulty in this place, I think, feeling sweat beads trickle down my back. The fanciest restaurants in New York with the most beguiling lady sitting across and all my mind focuses on is the goddamn AC?

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about you too, Mr. Stark. I think you’re possibly the most spoiled bratty billionaire I’ve met.”

Her words stirred something in me, my cock twitched curiously at them as I smirked, cleverly hiding my shock at the honesty. No woman was ever this frank before, this was new, intriguing.

I could tell she was interested, just by the way all of her focus was on me, her body angled towards mine, her gorgeous eyes taking in every movement, as if memorizing it.

I hadn’t been subtle either, her personality, her curves, her aura were all too inviting for me to back down. Ever since I laid eyes on her, I knew I had to meet her again, keep meeting her for reasons unknown.

Other girls I’d met were pretty much cut from the same cloth, pretty things wearing tight dresses that accentuated their boobs enough to skip dessert and take them home. That usually ended in Pepper kicking them out in the morning before any of them had a chance to say ‘we should do this again sometime’.

Not Y/N though.

I wanted to listen to her, speak to about absolutely nothing, bring her home, explore every bit of that smart mouth, run my hands all over her soft skin, and claim her as mine…

Whoa there! Some boundaries, Stark. It’s only the first date.

“Earth to Tony?”

I snapped back to reality with her hand waving in front of my face, dear God, I wasn’t on my best game tonight.

“Did you say something I missed?”

Damn it. Obviously she had. What a question even?!

“I just wanted to know if you’d like to split a chocolate cake with me?” Her eyebrows raised in wonder as the waitress patiently stood next to the table, waiting for me to give some sort of reply.

Geez. Was this woman for real? I could’ve kissed her senseless right there. I don’t think any of my previous dates had even uttered the word cake before, let alone chocolate.

“Right uh, sure. Yes.” I cleared my throat and croaked, downing the rest of my drink, giving myself a mental shake.

“Are you alright?” She asked, leaning forward, concern filled in her eyes.

“Perfect. I was just preoccupied with something, I’m sorry. Tell me about where you grew up.”

The whiskey provided some liquid courage for me to get up from my seat and join her on her side of the booth. There was plenty of space but I had to make sure our knees touched, I couldn’t sit too far away, not now.

Angling my body toward her, I laid my arm against the backrest as she spoke, willing my eyes not to slip down to her tempting lips or the way her gesturing moved her blouse slightly to reveal her cleavage.

As her lips moved, a part of my brain registered the words while the other hornier part focused on the way her lips formed the perfect O, the way her tongue danced along making me wonder how it would feel wrapped around my length. The sounds that would leave her as I fucked that pretty little mouth, then her, and make her mine.

“Honestly, the whole thing was such a shitshow, I would not mind a sugar daddy at this point!” She laughed, making something flutter inside my chest cavity.

“A sugar daddy huh? How about an eccentric, genius billionaire?”

I smirked, letting my fingers skim the soft skin of her shoulders, pleased at the effect I had on her as she blushed.

Something changed in her eyes as she shifted closer to me, curiosity replaced by something darker, more carnal.

“Don’t look at me like that.” I murmured, looking down at her lips that screamed to be kissed.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re begging me to devour you until you scream my name.”

That very moment, both of us shifted closer until our lips finally met. That very moment, I knew I was in trouble.

The kiss was everything I had imagined and everything I hadn’t. She tasted like a dream, a mix of chocolate and berries mixed with a bit of wine she’d been drinking. I couldn’t get enough.

My lips glided over hers smoothly, tongue peeking out testing the waters at first but as her hands found their way up my chest, I knew she wanted more.

I could’ve been more drunk on her than the whiskey as we kissed, the restaurant had faded away into oblivion long ago.

Her tongue skimmed along my lower lip shyly, making me smirk against her mouth and card my fingers through her hair, pulling her closer.

“Mind if we get out of here?” I breathed, momentarily halting the kissing to look into her eyes.

She nodded, unable to form words as she bit her bottom lip to stifle a grin, her eyes swimming with the same want and desire that was probably reflecting in mine.

“Do your worst, Stark.”

A/N: Here we go! Chapter 1. Feedback is love, as always.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark series #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fluff #tony stark oneshot #marvel fanfiction #tony stark x you #tony stark imagine #tony stark #tony stark fic #iron man series #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings

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