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thoughtfulfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Friend zone? End zone.

Author’s note: Anon requested🧡

July

Packing everything up and moving to France with no idea where you'd live or how you were going to make money, to study under some of the most well known pastry giants in the world was...crazy. But somehow, opening up your own bake shop in Cincinnati felt even more like you were losing the last hold on your sanity. You didn't know anyone here, no friends or family nearby, but Velvet Clementine was your dream. And today, the dream smelled like vanilla, caramelized sugar, and the bright zest of fresh clementines, located in the middle of the Queen City. You had your own staff, granted it was four people but still, you were the owner, the boss, of your very own place.

Cincinnati had been your home for six weeks when the bell chimed, and two men—tall enough to make your display case look like a dollhouse—ducked into the shop. They moved with effortless confidence, their voices a low rumble of laughter as they scanned the display case with the focus of someone choosing their last meal. You watched them pile on various pastries, looking through the rows of mini pain au chocolat, almond croissants and pastel de nata. The mini fruit tarts featuring clementines and red velvet cakes were the items that made you fall in love with baking, hence the name of the place. The shorter man reached for a tart, its glossy colorful slices glistening under the bakery lights, nestled in a bed of creamy white chocolate mousse. You watched as the other one picked up a croissant, giving it a slight squeeze—a soft crackle of delicate layers breaking beneath his fingers. They seemed satisfied with their various selections, happily walking over to the register, the tall one flashing his almost sinfully perfect smile as he paid for everything. You thanked them for coming in and sent them on their way.

"You can't be serious, how did you not say anything?" Your sous chef Quinn let out a breath she had probably been holding since the two guys walked through the door.

"What are you talking about?"

She scoffed, remembering the fact that you’d lived in Europe the last few years so their presence didn’t hold much weight. She tossed a dish towel over her shoulder as she turned to face you, “they’re Bengals, babe. Like, literal football gods. Also, it helps that they’re stupidly attractive."

You hummed, processing everything she just threw at you. "Well, that part I did notice. And they’re freakishly...big. Good thing we made extras of everything, because I think they just wiped out half the front shelf."

Quinn laughed, stepping around you to check for herself. "I have a shelf they can—sorry."

"Okay easy tiger,” you let out a laugh, “they're gone. Are we still on for drinks tonight?"

"Oh absolutely, I definitely need a martini or three after seeing the best receiving duo in the game, in person. My boyfriend is actually going to lose his mind when I tell him."

You shake your head with a smile on your face, walking back to the kitchen to restock, the scent of butter and cocoa bean filling the air as you slip behind the counter to arrange the freshly baked tarts.

Much to your surprise, they were back three days later. The door sounded again, and the tall one walked up to you, his broad shoulders barely fitting in the doorway. "I'm Tee."

"Hi Tee," you smile, surprised. "Didn't expect to see you back so soon. Or your friend over there." Tee turns around to find Ja'Marr loading up on cheesecakes this time, not paying attention to anything else. The sight of him, mouth half-full of a pastry, causes you to chuckle.

"I didn't either but...damn. You the owner?"

You nod, hesitant but flattered.

"Excuse my language, but yo, this shit fire—like man. We had to come get some more. Everything’s made fresh, from... scratch?"

"Yeah, every morning I get here at like 5:30 and we bake everything. From scratch."

Ja'marr appears next to him, holding a mini crème brulee. "You are VERY good at your job. You'll be seeing a lot of us now that we're back for the season. Swear you weren't here when I left Cincy, how long you been here?"

"Stop, it's not that great.” You wave him off as he continues to nod profusely, holding up his latest find with wild eyes as you laugh again. “And I've been here a little over a month, just moved to Cincinnati actually."

"From?" Ja'Marr pipes up, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"France, lived there for a few years to perfect my pastry skills and really focus on my craft."

"That's crazy, I just got back from Paris for Fashion Week. The food was amazing and looks like the classes worked cause you definitely know what you're doing."

"Thank you guys. And spread the word will you? I heard you two are kind of a big deal around here."

"Something like that, we appreciate you for these," Tee flashes a wide grin, holding up the bag as he thanks you one more time, "you'll see us back here soon."

The next day they returned the favor and since you'd been feeding them, they wanted to take you to a special spot downtown to really introduce you to the city. Of course you brought Quinn with you. Her boyfriend didn't believe this was actually happening until he Facetimed her and saw the guys for himself. It was nice to finally feel like you'd met people you got along with without having to try to be anyone but yourself. Over the next few weeks while exploring the Cincinnati food scene, you found out that Tee and Ja'marr were funny, sweet and kind, just two guys enjoying the last few weeks of the offseason before training camp ramped up. Both of them were in the midst of contract negotiations, having to explain to you the ins and outs of NFL life. They appreciated that you didn't care about their status and never asked unless they started the conversation and you loved having people around that made this city feel so much less like a foreign country.

Ja'Marr strolled in one morning with a grin, practically bouncing on his feet as he leaned across the counter. "Hey, so listen...you gotta make those mini cakes for my housewarming on Saturday. I mean, you have to be there, since we’re your best friends now and all. It’s only right."

Quinn, who had been wiping down the counter, stopped mid-motion and squinted at him. "Excuse me? So now I’m invisible? You’re just gonna act like I wasn’t the one keeping her entertained before you waltzed in with your designer sweatpants and phenomenal taste in bakeries? Some people." She shakes her head in mock disbelief.

Ja'Marr smirked, completely unbothered. "Anyway, Imma ignore that. Jealous isn't a good look on you Quinn." He quickly turns his attention back to you, "so...you'll be there Saturday right? I'll text you the address."

"Yes, I'll be there."

"And so will I, since we wanna exclude people from the conversation." Quinn adds in from behind you.

Ja'Marr, clearly pleased with his victory, flashed a grin as he turned to leave. "Speaking in third person? You know what I'll just see y'all Saturday." Before heading out, he shot you one more look over his shoulder. "Don’t forget, mini cakes."

As he walked out, Quinn glanced at you, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Looks like you’ve got some serious new friends now, huh?"

"We," you correct her, "we have some serious friends new friends now."

As a business owner, you prided yourself in being a professional. Even at your friend's party, you wanted to be more than on time and make the cakes look as pretty as possible. Quinn had joined you in the last-minute preparations, both of you arriving an hour before the gathering started to get things in order. The large living room was already buzzing—caterers setting up a lavish buffet, trays full of appetizers being placed on side tables. Some of Ja'Marr’s friends, who you assumed were visiting from Louisiana, lounged in the corner, their laughs echoing over the low hum of video game sound effects.

You and Quinn worked in tandem, setting the delicate mini cakes on a table near the center, the soft scent of the various flavors filled the room as you arranged the treats just so. You hadn’t even noticed Ja'Marr and Tee walking towards you until Ja'Marr's voice cut through the conversation.

"You brought my favorite ones, that’s so sweet. I am gonna tear. These. Up." His grin was wide as he took in the display of your pastries while wiggling his fingers.

"Be classy, please," you teased, glancing at him, "we don’t want your neighbors thinking a wild animal moved in next door."

"Nah, it’s cool," Ja'Marr shrugged nonchalantly, glancing down to check his phone. "I think one of the neighbors just got here."

The door clicked open, and in walked a tall figure. Your breath caught slightly in your chest as your gaze followed the man’s movement. His striking blue eyes swept across the room, a faraway intensity to his expression that made it seem like he was seeing more than just the people around him. There was a quiet confidence to his posture, the kind of calm authority that made him impossible to miss. His light brown hair, a little tousled in that effortless, perfect way, gave him the air of someone who had just stepped out of a high-end catalog.

"Burrow!" Ja'Marr exclaimed, his voice shifting into an easy familiarity. "Damn...I’m really surprised you here. Didn’t think you were leaving the house for a year after your little world tour."

"We went to the same country," Joe replied, his voice steady and slightly dry. "And it was just one." He gave Ja'Marr a side hug, but the moment was strange—a quick pinky shake that made you tilt your head, wondering what it meant. Something about it felt oddly intimate.

Ja’Marr turned his attention to you. "You remember that bakery we been tellin' you about? This is Y/N, the owner. We kinda best friends now so you need to get used to seeing her around. And that's Quinn, they're a package deal."

"Nice to meet you both." Joe’s voice was smooth, but there was a slight tension in the air as he extended his hand.

You reached for it, but Quinn—who had been standing beside you—was frozen. Her eyes were wide, staring at Joe like he was some kind of myth brought to life. The words she'd been about to say caught in her throat, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to process the moment. The seconds stretched on, but she didn't seem able to move, her usual confidence wiped away by her starstruck shock.

You nudged her lightly with your elbow, snapping her back to reality. She blinked, her expression changing in an instant. “Sorry,” she said quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual as she shook Joe’s hand. “It’s just—um—I'm, like, a huge fan. My boyfriend, too. He’s gonna lose his shit when I tell him I met Joe Burrow.”

Joe’s eyebrow raised slightly, a small, amused smile pulling at his lips as he noticed her flustered reaction. He let out a soft chuckle. "Well, nice to meet you, Quinn."

You laughed softly, shaking your head at Quinn, trying to play it off while feeling your own pulse steadily increasing. Quinn, still flushed from her sudden nervousness, was no longer frozen but her eyes were still glued to Joe, unable to hide the awe on her face.

"Okay, now that we've got that out of the way," Ja'Marr said, clearly enjoying the shift in energy. "I know you don't play about your diet but when I tell you these cakes are the best thing I've ever put in my body? I'm being serious."

Before you can roll your eyes or downplay it, the homeowner stops you. "Don't even think about it, I don't wanna hear none of that. We just need to get him to try one."

Joe grabs one with a Biscoff cookie on top and takes a bite, completely unfazed by the fact that everyone is watching. "Wow, this is. This is incredible. I get why they won't shut up about your place. This is really good."

"Thank you," you laugh softly, trying to push down the weird sense of nervousness pooling in your chest. "And thanks for breaking your strict diet to try it, that means a lot."

He nods and more people start to show up so Ja'Marr leaves to greet them and Tee grabs a few tiny cakes for himself, Quinn asking him if he wants a plate. Everyone moved on from the previous conversation but as you made eye contact with Joe, something unexpected happened—a flicker of recognition, of something unspoken, passing between the two of you. His gaze held yours for just a heartbeat longer than usual, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the room had melted away. Although you didn’t really want to, you ignored that feeling and focused on enjoying the night.

You and Quinn moved around the party, getting to know different groups of people, mingling with different players on the team, their significant others and she had to explain to you who all these people were. Of course you'd heard the names before, the buzz around the city the closer the players got to training camp and to the season actually starting. But if years in Europe had taught you anything, it was that sports fans are obsessively dedicated and somehow now you had also become an honorary Bengals fan because of Ja'Marr and Tee. And you couldn't wait to cheer them on. But right now? You couldn't wait to be home and in bed.

The exhaustion of the being up since 4:30 in the morning was continuously creeping up on you. The noise and the laughter mixing with the smells of rich food and the clinking of glasses was all becoming a bit too much after a long week of work. Your mind was constantly racing, your body tired and your spirit longed for some peace and quiet.

You slipped outside into the cool evening air, the chill of the night sky a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded room you'd successfully slipped out of. The city buzzed faintly in the distance, but it felt like a different world out here, away from the chatter and the constant movement.

You leaned against the porch railing, closing your eyes for a moment to just breathe.

The door clicked open behind you, and for some reason you knew exactly who it was. His presence was unmistakable.

“Didn’t expect you to be out here,” Joe’s voice was low, a little gruff but soft in the quiet of the night.

You didn’t answer right away, too focused on the quiet of the moment to form any words. You’d seen Joe around the party—he’d been laughing and chatting, looking perfectly at ease, but now he seemed... different. There was something in the way he stood, in the way he gazed at the horizon, that told you his social battery had run out just like yours had.

“You all good?” Joe asked after a beat, his voice a little more concerned than you expected.

You nodded, finally turning to face him. “Yeah. Just needed a minute. It’s...a lot, sometimes, you know? New city, new life, always on the go.”

Joe looked at you for a long moment, as though weighing something in his mind. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I’ve had days where I just need to...step away for a second. Guess we both needed some air, huh?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. Two people who seemed like they could handle anything, both seeking a quiet moment to themselves, at the same time. You glanced at him, noting the way his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, his jaw slightly tense. He wasn’t trying to fill the silence with empty words or forced jokes, and for that, you appreciated it.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just standing there in the cool night air, the sounds of the party muffled behind the door. For the first time, you felt the world slow down a little.

Joe shifted, and you glanced over, catching the faintest flicker of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Tee and Ja’Marr won’t shut up about you. Guess it’s my turn to see what all the hype is about."

You smiled back, the moment stretching on, neither of you in a rush to move. "Hope I don’t disappoint."

Ja'Marr had you over a few nights later to go over some film with you to get you ready for "the most important season of your life." Tee walked into the living room holding an iPad full of notes, including the presumed depth chart for week 1. Joe sat on the opposite couch, a water bottle on the table in front of him. They gave you a rundown on what everybody's role is on the team starting with Joe.

"He's QB1, you know. Heart of the team, he's our leader." The more he talked, the more it sounded like he was reciting wedding vows to his quarterback, who looked like he was bored out of his mind. You glanced over at him, but he didn’t react, just sipped his water and let Ja’Marr ramble on. You had barely spoken to him all day—just small glances here and there without taking it any further.

The same thing happened the next day. And the day after that.

Finally, you spoke up. "You're not a man of many words, are you?"

Joe barely looked up as he responded, "Depends on who it is and what they're asking." His tone was casual, but there was a weight to it, like he didn’t give away words freely. Like almost every human interaction he had was a secret interview prying into his personal life.

"Okay, well, you've attended three sessions of my exclusive Bengals 101 class, and you've barely said a word," you pointed out, shifting on the couch to face him. "But yet, every day, you're here."

"I love football," he said simply, taking another sip of water. Then he set the bottle down, finally looking at you. "And I would hate for the newest football fan of the crew to be confused in the middle of the Jungle."

"Is that what they call it? The Jungle?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the fact that he may have just cracked a joke.

Joe gave you a half-smirk and nodded. "It gets pretty wild, Y/N," he said, standing up and patting you lightly on the back as he walked past. "You better be ready."

He always kept interactions short, never going out of his way to talk to you in group settings, refusing to join the group chat that Tee had created with you, Ja'Marr, and Quinn. Instead of treating him like an onion who needed to be peeled, you just went with it and tried to lean in and embrace his dry sense of humor.

One night, you plopped down next to him on the couch. "Hey," you said casually, tilting your head to study him. "I was just wondering—do you ever smile? Like, unprompted? Or do you just reserve happy Joe for the comfort of your gigantic house when you're alone watching SpongeBob reruns?"

Joe turned his head slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk before he quickly looked away, trying to hide it.

Too bad for him—you caught every second of it.

A few hours later, as you cleaned up after another “film session”, you caught Joe watching you from across the room. Not in an obvious way—more like he was trying to figure something out, like you were a broken play he was seeing on his tablet.

He left without saying much, as always. You figured he preferred sticking to his usual routine—keeping his world small, guarded and unbelievably predictable.

So, when you saw him on the other side of Quinn's door after days of radio silence holding several bags of food, you almost dropped the bottle of wine in your hand.

"You know, you probably shouldn't have tipped that delivery guy. He just handed me these bags when I told him I was coming up here. I could've just been some horrible person stealing a perfectly good breakup recovery meal."

"I think because you're...you know—you? He probably would've handed you anything. I’m surprised he didn't ask for a selfie."

“Oh, he did,” Joe deadpanned, shifting the bags in his arms. “I signed the receipt instead. How's Quinn?"

"Honestly? She said she saw it coming, but it still sucks. You can come in."

Before long, everyone had found a spot, the coffee table now covered in takeout containers, the aroma of fried rice and lo-mein filling the air. The soft glow of the TV flickered across the dimly lit living room as Quinn sat curled up in the corner of the couch, picking at her food while Tee animatedly recounted his worst breakup story.

“At least your ex didn’t break up with you via emoji,” Tee said, waving his fork.

Ja’Marr nearly choked on his drink. “You lyin’.”

“Bro, she deadass sent me a salute emoji and just—gone.”

Quinn let out a weak laugh, shaking her head. “Okay, that’s tragic.”

“Exactly. So if I survived that, you’ll survive this.” Tee nudged her with his elbow.

The weight in the room had started to ease, the heaviness of Quinn’s breakup quickly turned into a lighter and softer energy. You sat on the couch sharing a blanket with her, almost having to force yourself into finishing your food because it was unfortunately your first real meal of the day. Joe sat beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his knee brushing against yours every time one of you shifted. You told yourself it was nothing.

Every once in a while, your eyes met—quick glances during a particularly funny scene, a knowing look when Ja’Marr started yelling at the TV. He was more relaxed tonight, his usual quiet guardedness giving way to something looser, something easy.

For the first time since moving to Cincinnati, you felt it. That feeling of belonging. Of finding your people.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning her head against your shoulder. “I guess I’ll survive.”

“You definitely will,” you reassured her, placing your hand on hers, giving it a squeeze.

Joe shifted beside you, his voice low. “You picked a hell of a crew to stick with.”

You turned your head, meeting his gaze, something unreadable in his expression.

“Could be worse,” you teased, nudging his leg slightly.

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. For a second, it seemed like he might say something else—but instead, he just reached for an egg roll.

After that night, things started to shift more toward football. The usual late-night hangs became less frequent, the group chat more active with reminders about packing lists and schedules. Training camp was looming, and you could feel the weight of it, even though you weren’t the one suiting up.

One night at Ja’Marr’s, Tee stretched out on the couch, scrolling through his phone. "This is our last free weekend before camp. Y’all better soak it in.”

Quinn groaned. “Ugh. That means my social life is about to take a massive hit.”

Ja’Marr snorted. “Don’t act like we don’t have days off. We just gon be tired as hell.”

Joe wasn’t there that night—he’d taken off for a few days on his annual lake trip, something about needing to “reset.” Not that you were keeping tabs on his whereabouts or anything, but the house felt quieter without him.

Then, two nights before camp started, he walked into Ja’Marr’s house like nothing was different.

Except, everything was different.

Tee was mid-sentence when he noticed, his words dying in his throat as he squinted at Joe. “Boy, what the hell?”

Ja’Marr turned, eyes widening. "Nah. No way."

You blinked. “Did you—did you shave your head?”

Joe barely reacted, setting his keys down like this was any other day. “Yeah.”

“And bleach it?” Quinn added in, looking intrigued...and a little scared.

“Yep.”

Tee leaned forward, inspecting him like he was some rare species. “You look like a villain in a Fast & Furious movie.”

Joe smirked, rubbing a hand over his buzzed, bleach-blond head. “Perfect.”

Ja’Marr was still in shock. “Bro, what possessed you?”

Joe shrugged, completely unbothered. “Felt like it.”

You tried to stifle a laugh, shaking your head. Of course. The most dramatic change of the offseason, and he acted like it was nothing.

Quinn tilted her head, appraising him. “You know what? I don’t hate it.”

Ja’Marr ran a hand down his face, groaning. “Man, now we gotta deal with this version of Joe all season.”

Joe just grinned, casually grabbing a side salad off the counter like he hadn’t just broken everyone’s brains. Training camp hadn’t even started yet, and he was already causing chaos.

Quinn, Tee, and Ja’Marr burst out laughing, looking at each other with wide grins. "Hold up—do y'all realize what this means?" Tee pointed between them. "We all got buzzcuts now."

Ja’Marr gasped, nodding. "Oh, it’s a sign. We're about to be in sync this season. Chemistry off the charts."

Quinn snorted. "What, like you're the bald-headed Avengers?"

Tee clapped his hands. "Nah, we’re like…an Olympic relay team. Faster, stronger, better communication."

Joe shook his head, amused. "You guys are ridiculous."

"You say that now, but just wait," Ja’Marr said, stroking his chin like he was cooking up a master plan. "I'm over here manifesting greatness."

Joe just rolled his eyes, taking a bite of his food, but then he caught your expression. You were dying to say something. "Go ahead, tell me what you really think. I've heard a few. Cody Rhodes, Eminem..."

"I was gonna say a more attractive version of Jonah Hill in the 21 Jump Street flashback scenes."

Tee and Ja’Marr lost it. Ja’Marr literally had to grab the counter for support, and Tee was staggering away, gasping between wheezes. "Bro, I can see it!"

Joe stared at you, lips pressing together like he was physically restraining himself from laughing. "That’s just hurtful."

"You asked." You bit back a grin.

The chaos continued around you, but somehow, it ended up just the two of you standing there as the others got distracted by something else.

You hesitated. You shouldn’t ask. But you did.

"Why did you do it?" You tried to sound casual. "Your hair looked fine—I mean, more than fine—but… why?"

Joe leaned against the counter, arms crossing over his chest. His lips twitched like he was about to say something stupid. Then—

"I want frosted tips."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"And I’ve never seen anyone actually look good when they just go get them, so I’m doing it the natural way."

You just stared at him. "Joe. This is the most insane way to get blond highlights, and you know it."

"Sorry you feel that way," he said, totally unbothered. "But I don’t do things halfway. Go big or go home."

He said it so casually, but the way he was looking at you? That was dangerous. The kind of look that made the room feel a little too warm, made your stomach do an annoying little flip. His icy blue eyes held yours just a second too long��long enough for you to realize that you should run for your life.

Because if you stayed here any longer, you might have to admit that you were developing a teeny, tiny, completely inconvenient crush on Joe Burrow.

August

Having a crush as an adult kind of feels like you're having a heart attack. You could be completely fine one second and then suddenly your entire being was consumed with thoughts of him so vivid it made your chest hurt.

The first preseason game was finally here, giving you the perfect excuse to focus on literally anything else. Your first tailgate was an experience, that morning of the game was by far the busiest day you'd ever experienced. Pre-orders were being picked up left and right, mini pies and cheesecakes were snatched off the shelves before 11am and the only thing that remained by the time all of you left the shop at 2pm was a lone batch of cupcakes that you ended up giving away for free at the stadium. It was easy promo.

Paycor Stadium felt like magic. A chaotic, slightly unhinged kind of magic. Fans were everywhere—some already drunk, all of them decked out in orange, fully prepared to dedicate their mental health to a 53-man roster for the next several months. You just wanted to see your friends do what they loved—well, at least two of them, since Ja’Marr was in the middle of a holdout. Or, technically, a hold-in, since he was still around the building but not practicing. You were still trying to grasp the nuances of contract negotiations, and honestly, you needed a few more Bengals 101 cramming sessions to feel more confident in your abilities to explain the situation, if anyone were to ask.

Time slowed when Joe stepped onto the field. And the stadium erupted when he threw a touchdown to none other than Tee. You swore you saw a couple of fans crying, which was kind of heartwarming but also a little funny, considering they didn’t know him personally.

Joe hadn’t talked much about his wrist injury or the recovery process after surgery, and you never wanted to pry. You figured he’d open up when he was ready. But as you watched him out there, commanding the field like nothing had ever been wrong, you couldn’t help but wonder if it had been as easy as he made it look.

He commanded the field like he commanded every room he entered. You met up with him, Ja'Marr, Tee, Quinn and a bunch of his friends from Athens along with his family to gather at his house, not only because it was the beginning of the season, but it was also a new beginning for him post surgery. The celebration was on, laughter and quiet music filling every corner of the house. You couldn't really hear it, but it had to be from Joe's never ending playlist filled with Gunna and Kid Cudi songs. People drifted in and out of conversations, drinks in hand, taking in the importance of indulging in the calm before the storm of the regular season.

At some point, you found yourself in the kitchen, away from the noise, refilling your drink. You weren’t alone for long.

Joe lingered in the doorway for a second before stepping into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside you. His presence was quiet but steady, like he was still deciding if he wanted to speak.

For a moment, the two of you stood next to each other silently. You were perfectly happy listening to the muffled sounds of the party happening in the next room. Then, finally, he exhaled, his voice low enough that it almost got lost in the noise.

“I um—I cried last night.”

You turned to him, startled by the sudden confession. His gaze stayed on the counter, fingers idly tracing the grain of the wood.

“There were nights when I thought I wouldn’t make it back here,” he admitted. “Like, really about thought it. More than I ever have before.” He swallowed hard, jaw tightening for a second before he let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never been afraid of failure. Not really. But this time… it was different.”

You could only imagine what that felt like—to have the thing you built your whole life around suddenly feel uncertain. To sit in the unknown and not be able to do anything but wait.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted softly, shifting so you were fully facing him. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like for you.” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “But I do know I’m glad you’re here. That you made it through. And that I get to see you come out on the other side of it.”

Joe finally looked at you then, really looked at you, and for the first time that night, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease.

Before you could stop yourself, you sighed, "I think about failure all the time."

His brows furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You glanced down, running your thumb over the rim of your glass. “Every single day at the bakery feels like a risk. Like one wrong move, one slow month, and it all comes crashing down. I try not to let it eat me alive, but it’s always there in the back of my mind.” You huffed out a quiet laugh. “Every day is either a risk or a victory. Some days, it’s both.”

Joe was quiet for a moment before he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, almost to himself. “I get that.”

And you knew he did. Probably more than anyone else. Maybe that was the thing about him—he understood the weight of expectations, the pressure of something you love being both the best and hardest thing in your life.

The party carried on around you, but the two of you stayed there, in the quiet.

Joe wasn’t sure when it started, but sometime after the day he met you, he’d found himself wanting to be near you. To talk to you. To hear what you had to say.

Now, standing here, watching the way your eyes softened when you spoke, he realized something that both excited and terrified him.

He liked you. He really liked you.

And when you smiled at him—soft, understanding, like you really saw him—something in his chest tightened. He was absolutely fucked. And he knew it.

The day after his ill-timed epiphany, he had to figure out a way to see you, without making it completely obvious that he wanted to see you. So he did the one thing he could think of.

"THE Joe Burrow, gracing my humble bakery with his presence?" You place a hand over your heart in mock surprise. "Did hell actually freeze over? Or did you finally crack under the pressure of living a sugar-free life?"

The quarterback looks around and shrugs, "told my parents about this place and I wanted to grab them something before they head out. What should I get? What's good here?" He laughs and you glare at him.

"Everything," Quinn interrupts before disappearing in the kitchen to go over their fall menu, "you know this."

"Well…surprise me." Joe says, when it's just you again. "You're the professional here. And I trust your opinion."

You pick out a few things, putting them in a box and handing them over to him after he tapped his phone on the tap to pay. His fingers brushed against yours on the box, just for a second. Just long enough for his slightly calloused touch to settle into your skin. He didn’t pull away immediately. Neither did you. And then, just like that, the moment passed.

Joe thanked you, turning on his heel and walking out without another glance. He told himself not to think about it. About the way your hand felt against his. About how his skin still felt warm where you’d touched him.

He spent a considerably long time staring at his palm in the car before shaking his head, gripping the wheel, and driving himself home.

September

The month came with the promise of real football. Instead, it delivered losses. Three straight. By the end of the month, they were 1-4, and the frustration was suffocating.

Losing wasn’t new to Joe—football was a game of highs and lows. But this? This felt different. This felt like clawing for air and only inhaling more water. He’d been playing pretty well but that hadn’t translated to team success so needless to say, he was frustrated.

And when Joe was frustrated, when the weight of the season pressed down on him, he did what he always did: he shut people out.

His routine became even more rigid. Early mornings. Earlier nights. Film. Practice. Ice baths. Rehab. Study. Sleep. Repeat. No distractions. No detours. Just football.

No one took it personally. Not really. This was how he was wired. How he dealt with things. But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice the way his texts became shorter, the way he started disappearing from the group chat, the way even Ja’Marr and Tee could barely get more than a few words out of him after a loss.

You weren’t even sure if stopping by was the right move. Still, you showed up at his house the day after their first win, peanut butter oat cups in hand and a ton of nerves in your stomach. You just…wanted—no needed to see him. To lay eyes on him and know he was okay.

Joe opened the door a few moments later, looking like a guy carrying a losing record on his shoulders. His hoodie was slightly wrinkled, his hair, which had already grown out tremendously, was still damp from a shower, and there was something unshakably tired about the way he stood.

But when he saw you, his posture relaxed just a little.

“Hey,” he said, voice low.

“Hey.” You offered a small smile, holding out the box. “Figured you’d be on lockdown mode, so I won’t keep you. Just wanted to drop these off.”

His lips twitched like he was debating whether or not to smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But I did.”

Joe exhaled, running a hand over his face before glancing down at the box in his hand with a small smile. You were definitely going to consider this a win.

You let the silence settle between you for a moment before finally saying, “I know this is my first season actually paying attention to all this, but…I do know one thing.”

He looked at you then, a softer expression on his face as he shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“This season isn’t over,” you said firmly. “Not even close. I know you well enough to know you won't just give up without a fight.”

Joe swallowed hard, slowly nodding his head. He didn’t respond right away, but you didn’t need him to. Instead, you reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder—just for a second, just to ground him.

“I’ll let you do your thing,” you murmured. “I just needed to see you for myself.”

Something flickered in his expression, something almost vulnerable, but before you could place it, he sighed, releasing a significant amount of tension in his muscles.

“Come on,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I’ll walk you out.”

The morning air was cool as the two of you walked in quiet steps toward your car. When you reached the door, you turned to say goodbye, but before you could, Joe pulled you into a hug.

It caught you off guard at first, the warmth of him, the way he held onto you like he needed this moment more than he was willing to say.

And then you felt it.

The steady, rapid beat of his heart against your chest.

You weren’t sure what it meant. If he even realized how much he was giving away just by standing here, holding you like this. And as much as you wanted to say something—to push—you got in your car holding back a smile.

October

The guys were riding on a high after beating the Giants, allowing themselves to celebrate for a total of...four hours.

By the time Joe made his way to Ja’Marr’s place, the energy in the house was still buzzing. Most of the guests had gone home and it was just the core four cleaning up in the kitchen, while others made their way in and out of the house. For once, nobody was sulking over film breakdowns or injury reports. It was rare for Joe to show up to things like this—especially in-season—but a win after weeks of frustration made it easier to step outside his routine, even if only for a little while.

He kept to himself for the most part, sitting back and listening while his receivers talked over each other about plays, what went right and what they could’ve done better. But the conversation took a sharp turn when Quinn, comfortably stretched out on the couch with a glass of wine in hand, looked up and announced, “Oh, by the way, I got her on dating apps.”

Silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Wait, what?” Tee sat up so fast he almost knocked over his drink. “Are you serious?”

“Like, for real?” Ja’Marr leaned forward, grinning. “Ain’t no way.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” Quinn smirked, pulling out her phone. “Took some convincing, but she finally caved. And now I get to be the supportive best friend who helps her swipe.”

Ja’Marr rubbed his hands together. “Hand it over. We gotta see this. Make sure ain’t no weirdos on there. Last thing I need is for you to end up on some true crime Netflix special.”

Joe stayed quiet, gripping the neck of his water bottle a little too tightly as you handed them Quinn your phone and she pulled up the profile. Tee and Ja’Marr crowded around, making dramatic noises every time they scrolled past a new guy.

“Absolutely not,” Tee muttered, swiping left.

“Oh, hell no.” Ja’Marr swiped even faster. “Why he posing like that?”

“This one’s kinda decent, though,” Quinn argued, nudging the phone toward them. “Look at him.”

Joe didn’t look. He didn’t join in on the commentary, didn’t make a joke, didn’t do anything except sit there, staring at the condensation rolling down his water bottle, wondering why there was a weird feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

It wasn’t like he had a right to feel any type of way about this. And he knew what it meant.

But that didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.

Between the temperature fluctuations and the sudden boom in business, your head was spinning. The bakery had never been more popular. What had started as a hidden gem over the summer had officially become one of Cincinnati’s go-to spots. Lines stretched out the door on weekends, with customers raving about the new fall menu: cinnamon swirl snickerdoodle blondies, apple cider donuts, maple pecan scones. You barely had time to catch your breath between managing the chaos and perfecting each batch, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Meanwhile, the Bengals’ season remained a rollercoaster. A solid win against the Browns gave everyone a glimmer of hope, but that optimism came crashing down when the Eagles steamrolled them by twenty. After that game, no one heard from Joe. His silent rage wasn’t unusual after a loss, but it was nevertheless, felt from miles away.

The next week, they bounced back in a big way, blowing out the Raiders at home. The scoreboard said it was a dominant win, but Joe was still visibly pissed, seen on the sidelines venting to Zac Taylor about missed offensive opportunities and a shit ton of penalties that should've been avoided. The moment went viral—clips of his animated rant flooded social media, with analysts debating whether his frustration was a sign of his competitive fire or a deeper issue brewing in Cincinnati.

That night, everyone met at Jeff Ruby’s for dinner, but Joe didn’t show. To the surprise of absolutely...nobody.

Toward the end of the night, the restaurant manager approached your table with a takeout bag in hand. “This is Joe’s order,” he explained. “He called it in, but something came up. He asked me to give it to you, is that okay?"

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

It wasn’t long before you were standing outside his house, takeout bag in hand, knocking on his door. When he opened it, he looked exhausted. Not physically—no visible bruises or signs of injury—but mentally. His eyes were dull, his usual composed demeanor carrying an edge of frustration.

You gave him the bag. “Figured you should still eat.”

Joe took it with a small nod. “Thanks.”

For a second, you considered just leaving, letting him sit with whatever was weighing on him. But instead, you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. “You wanna talk about it?”

He let out a slow breath, rubbing his jaw before stepping back to let you in. You followed him to the kitchen, watching as he set the bag down on the counter but didn’t open it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, finally breaking the silence. “I just—” He sighed. “I’m playing well, but I don’t know if we as a collective have what it takes to close out games when it actually matters. We can beat shit teams, but the moment we go up against a real contender, it’s like everything falls apart. And I hate feeling like we’re right there but just not good enough.”

You nodded, understanding the weight of what he was saying. Joe wasn’t the type to be satisfied with mediocrity. He needed to win, and not just in ways that looked good on paper. At this point, to get back on track they needed to look dominant— unstoppable. Not like kids throwing together a project at the last minute because they forgot the due date.

“I get it,” you said softly. “This is your job, your career. You don’t half-ass anything, and you don’t want to settle for middle of the pack.”

Joe’s lips pressed together, his gaze flickering to yours. “Exactly.”

He ran a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. “I’m sorry for missing dinner. Just…had a lot on my mind.”

You tilted your head, a flash of curiosity taking over. “Anything besides football?”

For a second, he was quiet, debating whether or not to answer. You could see the internal battle written all over his face, his jaw tensing and flexing as he pondered the risks of honesty.

Then, he muttered, “Fuck it.”

Your brows lifted, but before you could ask, he looked at you—really looked at you—and said, “I’ve been...thinking about you.” His voice was low, steady, but you could hear the weight behind it. “More than I want to. More than I should.”

The words knocked the air from your lungs.

You should’ve said something, but for once, you had no idea what to say. Instead, you took a step forward. Joe’s eyes tracked your movement, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance. His hand brushed against your waist, his gaze flickering to your lips, leaning in ever so slightly—

“Yo, have you seen my phone charger?”

Ja’Marr’s voice shattered the moment like glass.

Joe immediately stepped back, cursing again under his breath as Ja’Marr walked into the kitchen, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted.

Your entire face was on fire and you were sure your heart was seconds away from bursting out of your chest.

Joe looked like he wanted to murder his best friend.

November

Neither of you brought up what almost happened. Maybe because neither of you were sure it should have happened. Or maybe, deep down, you were both afraid of what it would mean if you admitted that it did.

So, instead, things carried on like normal—except they weren’t normal at all.

Joe still came by the bakery, though now he had a habit of showing up under the guise of casual excuses. Like when he walked in one morning, a familiar water bottle in hand, and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“You left this at my house,” he said, completely straight-faced. “Wanted to make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

You blinked at him, then down at the bottle—one of many you’d undoubtedly left behind at places far more inconvenient. “You drove all the way here for…this?”

Joe shrugged. “Seemed important.”

Quinn made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. You didn’t have to turn to know she was giving Joe a look—one that said she saw right through him.

Still, nothing was said.

The two of you danced around the elephant in the room for 17 days. Then came the bye week, and as fate would have it, or your own personal hell, you ended up at Joe’s house, standing side by side in his kitchen as you baked a pumpkin pie together. The whole thing came randomly, he mentioned in passing that it was his favorite and he was spending his entire bye week on the couch so naturally you came up with a solution. Nobody else was free so it just ended up being you and him. Of course.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, nutmeg, and warm sugar, the scent pulling you into your natural element. This was your Paycor Stadium, your stage. R&B played in the background, filling the comfortable silence as Joe rolled out the pie dough with slow, concentrated movements. The counter was dusted with flour, the remnants of your work scattered across the surface.

"You’re pressing too hard," you murmured, stepping in behind him. You placed your hands gently over his, guiding his movements. "You want it even, but not overworked."

Joe huffed out a breath, the warmth of his chuckle brushing against your cheek. "So what you’re saying is, I’d be terrible on a baking show?"

You grinned, your fingers brushing against his as you both worked the dough. "I’m saying, there's some room for improvement for sure."

Joe turned his head slightly, just enough for his blue eyes to catch yours, his expression hard to read but there was a certain glimmer in his gaze. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. This was how it had been for months now—a quiet understanding, an unspoken closeness that had slowly built between you. It was in the way he showed up to your bakery with your favorite coffee, the way you memorized his weekly schedule, the way he looked for you after every home game, his gaze scanning the crowd in the player guest section postgame until he found you.

The pie crust was ready now, but neither of you were ready to move to finish it.

Joe’s hands lingered under yours, his thumbs lightly grazing your knuckles. "I like this," he admitted after a moment, his voice low. "Us. Doing this."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Me too."

It wasn’t just about the pie, and you both knew it.

You helped him move the dough into the pan, your fingers brushing again, sending little shivers up your spine. The pumpkin filling sat ready in a glass bowl, waiting to be poured, but Joe seemed far more interested in you. His eyes traced over your features, cataloging every detail as if he was afraid he’d forget them.

"What?" you asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Joe shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

He exhaled slowly, rolling his lips together as if debating what to say. Then, instead of answering, he reached out to touch you, his fingers trailing down to your jawline, resting there a smidge too long. His movements were gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t. You couldn't.

The space between you evaporated, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so delicate, so achingly tender, that it stole the breath from your lungs. It was slow, unhurried, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of you against him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself sink into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with vanilla extract—it was intoxicating.

Joe deepened the kiss, a quiet desperation laced within it, months of lingering glances and fleeting touches culminating in this moment. You felt his hesitation fade, replaced by something raw and real, something neither of you could ignore any longer.

But then he pulled away.

And you saw it—regret, creeping into his expression before he even said the words.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “This was a mistake.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Are you serious?”

Joe exhaled, looking anywhere but at you. He was still standing somewhat close but his hands weren’t on you anymore, making the temperature in the room instantly feel like it had dropped 20 degrees. Even the expression on his face was a little colder than before. “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Your heart was pounding, anger curling hot in your chest. It was the only thing fueling you and keeping you warm. “I think it's a little too late for that. Joe, things have already changed. These past few weeks—hell, these past few months—we’ve been dancing around this. We’re not in fucking high school. Just tell me the truth.”

You took a step closer, forcing him to face you. To look at you. “Do you honestly have no feelings for me?”

Silence.

Then, finally—too quiet— “I don’t.”

You flinched like he’d slapped you.

Joe must have seen it because he let out a heavy breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m just—overwhelmed. The team is losing, and I’m playing the best football of my life, and I just—I can’t add another thing to my plate right now.”

You studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, hands clenched at your sides. Then, finally, you nodded.

You stared at him, waiting for him to take it back, to say something—but he didn’t. He just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes locked on the floor like he was hoping if he didn’t look at you, this would all just go away.

“You’re such a coward.”

Joe’s head snapped up, but you were already shaking your head, anger and frustration crashing into you all at once.

“You are so stuck in your own head,” you continued, voice sharp, unrelenting. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so you don’t get hurt. So you don’t have to admit that you actually feel things like a normal human being. You’re not some heartless football machine, Joe. You don’t have to live, breathe, and die this sport 24/7 to be fulfilled.”

You took a step forward, forcing him to face you, forcing him to hear you. “And you can stand there and act like this isn’t real, like there’s nothing between us, but I know there is. And you do too. Maybe it’s new, maybe it’s always been there, but I’m not stupid. At least I didn’t think I was.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, but he still said nothing.

And that? That pissed you off even more.

You scoffed, blinking away the sting in your eyes as you turned on your heel, grabbing your things off the counter. “If you want to pretend none of this is real, then fine. I won’t fight you on it.”

Joe didn’t move. He didn’t stop you.

You lingered for half a second, hoping—praying—that he’d snap out of it. That he’d reach for you, say your name, give you anything.

But all he did was stand there, motionless, watching you go.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head one last time before you reached for the door.

“Don’t burn my pie,” you muttered, then stepped outside, slamming the door shut behind you.

December

Joe told himself, over and over, that he’d made the right decision.

That pulling away had been necessary. That it was better this way.

But as the weeks passed, the reality of it settled in like a dull, persistent ache in his chest. The group dynamic wasn’t the same anymore. Quinn was firmly on your side, and Tee and Ja’Marr were caught in the middle, trying their best to act like everything was normal when it clearly wasn’t.

You only hung out with them if Joe wasn’t going to be there, and eventually, he stopped showing up altogether. Left the group chat, too, because what was the point?

So, yeah. He told himself this was what he wanted. That it was for the best.

Then one day, the night before his birthday while the Bengals were in Dallas, his house was broken into.

It was everywhere. The footage of the smashed window. The grainy security cam stills of showing the inside of his house. The headlines dissecting every detail—what was stolen, how much damage was done.

For a second—just a fleeting, stupid second—he thought maybe you’d reach out.

But you didn’t.

And why would you? It wasn’t your place anymore.

You were moving on. Meeting new people.

Like Cory.

Sweet, mature, honest-about-his-feelings Cory.

More than Joe could say for himself.

Joe wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.

At all, really.

But when he overheard Tee and Ja’Marr talking about you, about how you’d been going on several dates with some guy named Cory, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Seems like a good dude,” Tee said, scrolling through his phone. “Takes her out, treats her right.”

“She actually looks happy, too,” Ja’Marr added. “Not whatever the fuck that was with Joe.”

Joe rolled his eyes, slamming his locker shut. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ja’Marr turned to him, unimpressed. “It means you fumbled, bro.”

Tee nodded. “Big time.”

Joe exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He wasn’t in the mood for this. But they weren’t letting it go, so he told them. Everything. The kiss, the fight, the way he let you walk away because he was too caught up in his own head to admit how he really felt.

By the time he finished, Tee and Ja’Marr were looking at him like he was the dumbest man alive.

“You fumbled twice,” Tee corrected.

“She’s moving on,” Ja’Marr added. “And from the sound of it, dude’s actually putting in effort. You had your chance.”

Joe didn’t respond, just sat there, feeling more irritated by the second. He told himself he didn’t care.

The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background as you swirled the last bit of your wine in the glass. Across from you, Cory was smiling, eyes warm and excited in a way that made you feel a little guilty. He was sweet, thoughtful, and easy to be around. The kind of man that you bring home to your parents and settle down with. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He was easy. There was no tension, no unsaid words, no history thick enough to make the world stand completely still for a minute.

You were on your fifth date now, and even though you liked him, you knew deep down you weren’t feeling it the way you were supposed to.

“I, uh—I actually got something for you,” Cory said, reaching into his jacket pocket. “Well, it’s more of a surprise, really.”

You set your glass down, watching as he pulled out a sleek envelope and slid it across the table toward you. “Go on, open it.”

You hesitated before peeling it open, your heart practically stopping when you saw what was inside. Two tickets to the game—Bengals vs. Broncos. A must-win. And VIP passes for the postgame meet-and-greet.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“I wasn't snooping in your house or anything but I did see a Bengals cup in your cabinet the other day. But you never really said anything about being a fan?” Cory said, clearly proud of himself. “i don't know, I figured you might like it. And hey, you can finally meet some of the players.”

Your stomach twisted painfully. You swallowed down the instinct to refuse, to make up an excuse, to say absolutely the fuck not. But what reason did you have? To Cory, there was nothing complicated about this—just a thoughtful gift for someone he was getting to know.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “Wow, Cory. This is...really sweet of you.”

“So, you’ll come?” he asked, his grin widening.

You nodded, the weight of your own decision pressing against your chest. “Yeah,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll go.”

And just like that, you sealed your fate.

Admittedly, it was their best game of the season. A win in OT, a Tee touchdown to keep their playoff hopes alive, and all the players riding on a high of a multiple game win streak. A month ago, you would've been celebrating right along with them. But tonight you really needed to get through this meet and greet without throwing up. And without blowing your cover. If nothing else, this was Cory's opportunity to have a once in a lifetime experience and the last thing you wanted to do is ruin that.

And then you saw him.

And Joe saw you with...him.

He saw how the guy next to you couldn’t wait to shake his hand—Joe thought it was a joke. Thought maybe this was some kind of sick cosmic punishment for all the terrible decisions he’d made in the last few months.

You looked good, unfairly good in your jacket and Bengals beanie, one that Tee had given you and Joe felt his irritation morph into something else entirely.

You weren’t even looking at him.

Cory, meanwhile, was beaming. “Man, it’s so cool to meet you. You played great tonight.”

Joe barely managed a nod, jaw tight.

Cory didn’t seem to notice the tension thickening the air, but you did.

And when your eyes finally met Joe’s, there was something there—something that made his pulse jump—before you quickly looked away.

Yeah. Joe was pissed.

The moment Cory got distracted meeting some of the other players, shaking hands and taking pictures, Joe saw his chance. He stepped toward you, lowering his voice.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You scoffed, folding your arms over your chest. “Attending a football game, in the city I live in. Apparently that's a crime now.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then be more specific," you bite out.

Joe exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair. “Him? This?” He gestured vaguely in Cory’s direction. “Really?”

Your expression hardened. “Yes, really. He’s kind, honest, actually says what he feels instead of hiding behind excuses and—” You stopped yourself, shaking your head. “You know what? No. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don't owe you shit.”

Joe clenched his jaw. “So that’s it? You’re just—what? Moving on like none of it mattered?”

“Oh, now you want to talk about it?” You whisper yell. “You didn't have anything for me when I asked you, remember? All you could do was look at the floor like a freaking idiot. It was crickets and now you have the nerve to ask me what this is? You don’t get to do this, Joe. You don’t get to push me away, call me a mistake, then act like you suddenly care when you see me with someone else.”

He stepped closer, voice low and tense. “You know damn well I care.”

You swallowed, blinking up at him, and for a second—just a second—Joe thought you might let your guard down. That you might admit there was still something there.

But then you shook your head. “If you actually cared, we wouldn’t be having this conversation here. We actually wouldn't be having this conversation at all. I would've been here, with you. Not looking for pieces of you in another guy, a perfectly nice guy who just wanted to meet the freaking Bengals today. So if you don't mind, I'm gonna go meet Tee Higgins and Ja’Marr Chase...for the first time.”

Joe didn’t know what to say to that.

So you left him standing there, walking back toward Cory with a smile, pulling him in for a hug like Joe wasn’t just barely holding himself together.

January

Exactly seven days later, while Cory was over watching the game with you, Joe took a hit and stayed down. This time you were hanging on by a thread, on the inside. On the outside, you shoved some popcorn in your mouth and sipped on ginger ale, hoping the bubbles would bring your heart back to its rightful place instead of where it currently resided...in your stomach. You didn't know if he had a concussion but he definitely looked out of it, missing throws he usually made and the Bengals escaped Pittsburg by the skin of their teeth, securing a two point win on the road, their destiny up to chance. Ja'Marr called you in the locker room after the game to tell you he needed you at the watch party for good luck in praying on the Dolphins and the Broncos downfall. You told him you'd think about it, part of you didn't mind being in the same room as Joe, especially after you caved and watched his postgame press conference to make sure he wasn't lying about being concussed. Maybe the two of you could be cordial with each other and leave the past behind.

You woke up on the couch with NFL Network still on tv. Something about it felt embarrassing, because it felt right. Months ago you were watching an introduction to football PowerPoint and now you'd regularly catch yourself having football withdrawals. Just as you were ready to call it a night, turning off the tv and mentally preparing yourself to head to your room, you heard a knock at the door. Who could possibly be coming over at 2 in the morning?

You stood frozen in the doorway, gripping the edge of the door like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Your stomach dropped—hard and fast—like missing a step in the dark. Joe was standing there, still in the clothes you had seen him wearing during in his postgame press conference. His hair was a mess, the shadows under his eyes deeper than usual. He looked exhausted. But that wasn’t what made your breath hitch. It was him. Here. Now. After all this time.

“Joe.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you doing?”

He exhaled heavily, a far away look in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

You crossed your arms, trying to steel yourself, ignoring the way your pulse was racing. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don't know? You just drove around after you landed and magically ended up here?”

“I don't know, I just—I couldn’t go home. Not without seeing you.” He swallowed hard, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for something, anything that might give him an answer. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but when I got on the plane, all I could think about was you.”

Your heart clenched painfully. Damn him.

“You scared the hell out of me tonight,” you admitted before you could stop yourself. “Watching you go down like that—” You shook your head, gripping the fabric of your hoodie. “I hated it.”

His eyes softened, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. “I know. Can we just—can I come in?”

You stared at each other, the weight of everything unsaid pressing in around you.

“Joe.” You sighed, your resolve crumbling at the sight of him standing there like that, like he wasn’t sure you’d let him in.

“Please,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just for a minute.”

And against your better judgment, you stepped aside.

Joe ran a hand over his face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking on that play, the pocket collapsed so fast I didn't even have time to throw the ball away. And when I hit the ground, all I could think about was you.” He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Not football, not the game, not the playoffs. You. And how I’d fucked everything up so badly that you wouldn’t even reach out. That I wouldn’t get a chance to apologize.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to keep your expression unreadable.

“I’m so, so sorry. I was a coward,” Joe admitted, his voice breaking. “I am a coward. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in control—of my game, my career, my emotions. It's kind of my thing. And you…” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You fuck all of that up for me. The way I feel about you scares the living shit out of me.”

You blinked, stunned into silence.

“I’m not some heartless football robot,” he continued, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m a man who’s been terrified to feel anything real because it means I can’t control it. And when I’m with you, it’s real. It’s been real for months, and you were right. About everything. I was too much of a fucking idiot to admit it.”

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow. You wanted to believe him—God, you did—but you couldn’t just let him walk back into your life like he hadn’t wrecked you before.

“I need you to give me a chance to fix this,” Joe pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Please.”

You swallowed hard. “Joe…”

“I swear to you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his hands almost reaching for you before he forced himself to stop. “I promise, I will prove to you that I’m not that coward anymore. Just… just say you’ll let me try.”

You studied him carefully, searching for any sign of doubt, any hesitation. But there was none. Only raw, unfiltered desperation and a kind of vulnerability you had never seen from him before.

Your walls were still up, but something inside you cracked. Just a little.

“You have to earn me this time,” you whispered.

Joe nodded instantly. “I will.”

After a hard conversation with Cory in the morning, you decided to attend the watch party the next day to test the waters. And to see your friends all in one place again. The atmosphere in Joe's house had shifted from tense to comfortable, a soft kind of warmth that had been missing for a while. The room was still, save for the quiet hum of the television, which was showing the Broncos slowly dismantling the Chiefs, much to the frustration of everyone else in the room. Joe had been quiet for the most part, lost in his thoughts, but you could tell he had already come to terms with the inevitable.

You weren’t sure if you should be relieved or sad about the Bengals missing the playoffs, but you did know one thing: it didn’t feel like the end for you and Joe. Not anymore.

The room had cleared out, the others heading to their respective homes after the game, leaving you and Joe alone. The snow outside had started to fall heavier now, creating a peaceful stillness that you couldn’t help but love. Joe seemed to notice the shift in the air as well, his eyes softening as he glanced over at you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His concern was still there like that first night he found you outside the housewarming party, that need to take care of you even now.

You nodded, even though there was a part of you that was more uncertain than you wanted to admit. “Yeah. Just…just thinking.”

He leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the window as the snowflakes danced in the cold air. “You want me to drive you home? It’s getting pretty bad out there. Or, you could stay? Only if you want to."

You hesitated for a second, a small part of you wanting to avoid the drive, to stay with him just a little longer. Maybe it was the way he looked at you—like he was sure this time. Like there was no more running. “I think…I think I want to stay,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Joe didn’t need any more convincing. He pulled you in close to him on the couch, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he let out a slow sigh. “I’m really gonna miss football," he murmured. “But I’ve got a lot of work to do with you, so I guess I’ve got some time now. I messed up before. I’m not messing this up again.”

You smiled, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders just by being close to him. “I can’t wait to put you to work, 6am at the bakery tomorrow morning. And the next few mornings. For a while.” you teased, your voice barely audible.

Joe’s eyes darkened for a moment, a quiet promise in his gaze. He cupped your face gently, leaning in with a tenderness that took you by surprise. When his lips met yours, it was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. A kiss full of unspoken apologies, solidifying what was to come, and the quiet declaration that he was willing to do whatever it took to make things right between the two of you. Even if some of that ended up with him getting covered in flour for the foreseeable future.

You didn’t pull away. In fact, you melted into the kiss, your heart swelling in your chest as his hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place like you were exactly where you belonged.

He pressed one more slow kiss to your lips before his eyes flicked to yours, searching. “So… does this mean our friendship over?” His voice was low, careful, but there was something else there—hope, maybe.

You didn’t even have to think about it. You let out a small, breathy laugh, shaking your head and running your fingers through his hair. “Absolutely. It’s dead and gone.”

Joe exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking his head before reaching for you, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “Good,” he murmured, tugging you closer. “Because I really didn’t want to be your friend anyway. Got much bigger plans in mind.”

#Joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x you #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic

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llamagoddessofficial · 2 days ago

Text

Thank you @cari-canes for this delightful commission. I'm so sorry I went so overboard... but I just could not resist the opportunity to write the bad guys in the cafe au. Cafe au has got everything!!!

---

You unlocked the glass door and stepped through, out of the bitter cold, watching to make sure the little ‘closed’ sign didn’t flip itself over as you shut and re-locked it behind you. Though some dim morning ambience made its way in through the big front window, it was still pretty gloomy with all the lights off.

Honestly, though? You didn’t mind. 6:30am was a relatively late start for you. You used to get to your old bakery for 4 so you had all the time in the world to bake everything for the displays. A 6:30 start was a walk in the park.

First day nerves are normal. Just take a deep breath.

You put your coat on an antique wooden hanger by the door, and headed deeper into the still-closed cafe. It was a relatively quaint establishment, a medium sized room with about six tables of varying sizes. A nice oak counter, a glass case with room for sandwiches and pastries, a blackboard with coffee types lined up alongside chalked prices. A big pretty coffee machine with a shiny top. A sign on the wall behind the countertop declaring that they reserved the right to ‘remove anyone from the premises’. The only abnormal thing wasn’t even all that abnormal; most of the back wall was a continuous bookshelf, full of books of all different sizes and genres. The sort of thing that’d definitely give this spot enough charm to make it some people’s cafe of choice.

By all means, a perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary looking place.

... Nothing at all like its owners.

You moved behind the counter, floorboards ever-so-slightly creaky underfoot. The kitchen lights were on, you could see through the little round windows in the tops of the doors; someone was already in. The first day nerves kicked into high gear, butterflies making a racket in your stomach and throat... you kept telling yourself that you didn’t need to be as worried as you were, you wouldn’t have gotten hired if you made a bad impression on the staff. But nothing seemed to ease the anxiety that’d firmly lodged itself in your stomach.

You’d had other plans for the week. Nothing major - nothing that couldn’t be cancelled. But you had plans. Who wouldn’t? You lost your previous baking job with absolutely no notice, through no fault of your own. You’d been expecting to suddenly have a lot of free time you didn’t know what to do with. But here you were, plans cancelled, and little more than three days spent unemployed.

The hiring process had been.... Well. For lack of a better word, weird. Not anticipating any responses or interest but eager to reduce your chances of not being able to pay rent, you’d printed out your hastily-updated CV, taken your out-of-touch uncle’s advice and tried walking around town handing out copies to any place that let you breathlessly approached the counter. When you got to this cafe, a place you’d admittedly never even been inside, you had an experience that stuck with you for the rest of the day.

“Are you hiring?” you asked.

The server at the counter was a skeleton monster. You’d never seen a skeleton monster before. He had his hood up, but you could see sharp red eyelights shining out from underneath - they looked bored. By this point in the day, you had just about gotten over the jitters that had followed you from shop to shop. But this guy was bringing them back.

He didn’t say anything.

“Uhm. Can I give you a copy of my resume?”

...

He clearly wasn’t interested. You’d definitely had some half-assed responses, but no one had outright IGNORED you yet. It was pretty disheartening.

“... Nevermind,” you said, small. “Sorry for bothering you - ”

A delighted voice right behind you. “we’re hiring.”

Startled, you spun around. Wait - another skeleton monster? This one was the polar opposite of the guy at the counter, he was grinning from nonexistent ear to nonexistent ear, a smile full of pearly white teeth. He had a dark serving tray tucked under one arm. Somewhat alarmingly, there were large black lines running down from his empty sockets to his jaw, but living in Ebbott city meant you’d seen more than enough strange monsters. There were far scarier looking (but completely harmless) monsters out there.

“O-oh. You are?” you replied, flustered by his enthusiasm after a long day of little more than side-eyes. “I didn’t see a sign,”

“ain’t had time to put one up yet. your timing couldn’t be better.” He held a gloved hand out. He was so friendly - he looked so happy you were here. “i’m killer. that’s dust. ignore him, he’s a dickhead with everyone. can i have two copies? i’ll pass one on to my boss.”

“S-sure!” you said. Wow, what a positive response! You were suddenly riding a little high. You made a mental note to remember this particular place.

“we’ll be in touch,” Killer said, beaming. “promise.”

He wasn’t lying about being ‘in touch’. Literally the next morning, you had an email in your inbox, asking when you were free for an interview; when you politely responded that you were available as soon as possible the response came in asking you to be there later that day after the cafe had closed. You were pretty sure that by the time you walked into that building for the interview, most places hadn’t even read your resume yet.

And the interview itself...

You bit the inside of your cheek. That was a story for another day. You did your best to bring yourself back to the present. You took a breath, shifting your bag around on your shoulder, then stepping through into the light of the kitchen.

... Horror was the one already in the kitchen. Of course he was, he was the chef. He had his back to you, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; he was kneading dough on a heavily floured work surface. Batch making bread?

He was a huge guy. That had been clear during the interview, but he had been seated for most of that. Now, with him standing? You got to see his full size and height. He must’ve been almost seven feet tall, his back alone was twice the size of you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he got his shirts tailored specifically for him... where was a guy that big realistically going to get reasonably sized clothing, other than someone making it for him?

You were going to be spending hours in the kitchen alone with him.

At the sound of the door, he looked over his shoulder at you. His big red eye took up most of his socket. The iris widened, just a fraction, at the sight of you.

“... you’re... early,” he said. His voice was very deep. He spoke each word like he was measuring it syllable by syllable.

“Y-yeah.” You fiddled with your bag strap. “I know I was told to come in at seven, but I thought I’d just get in a bit earlier. Get a feel for the place.”

...

“... experience?” he asked.

You tried very hard to keep you voice light. Perhaps too hard. “Lots. I’ve worked in plenty of bakeries and cafes before. What about you?”

He shook his head. His bony hands were covered in flour, up to the wrist.

You did a quick visual sweep around the room - the shelves full of perfectly organised and dated ingredients, equipment clean and sorted, shiny countertops, ovens you wouldn’t mind cooking your personal food in. The place would pass its health inspection with flying colours.

“This room looks... really good,” you said, honestly. “I’ve seen kitchens full of seasoned pros that look much worse than this. You won’t believe the state of some of the kitchens I’ve worked in. It’d make you never want to eat out again.”

Horror made a sound in the back of his throat. Then went back to kneading the bread, back to you.

...

“Hey, I... I know Nightmare hired me to be ‘in charge’ of baking back here.” Your voice was shaky. “But this was your kitchen first. I don’t want you to think I’m coming in here to move all your things around and steal your job. I’m just baking brownies and pastries, and stuff. You’re the chef.”

... He paused, turning fractionally, red iris catching you again.

Your employer was... well, you weren’t wrong about there being scarier monsters out there than Killer. Nightmare was a perfect example. You shuddered, remembering his cyan eye staring at you during the interview, flanked by the other three skeletons. That had felt less like an interview and more like an exercise in not displaying fear in front of predators.

“Honestly, I thought I blew the interview when I asked him if he only hired skeletons. But I guess not, since I’m here.”

Horror...

... Chuckled.

Phew. The sound visibly relieved you. You put your bag down. “Sorry. I know I talk too much. I’ll look around, give you some peace.”

...

“... i... like... when you talk.” He looked back to his bread. “... nice voice. fills quiet.”

You blinked.

... You got the overwhelming feeling you’d completely misjudged him. He suddenly didn’t seem quite so tall. Horror was clearly trying really hard; talking, laughing at your bad humour attempts, trying to make you feel more comfortable.

Was he just... shy?

... The smile you gained must’ve really been something, because you could’ve sworn there was a little hint of red on the high edge of his cheekbone.

“When you’re done with the bread, do you mind showing me where things are kept?”

This time, his smile was higher, and nod was much more resolute.

Just like that, you didn’t mind being alone in the kitchen with him. Not at all.

---

You and Horror worked like a well-oiled machine. Not a word needed to be spoken - you weren’t sure what it was, but Horror just seemed completely in tune to everything you, he knew where you were going and what you were reaching for and why you needed it. His huge physique translated into incredible strength, he single-handedly managed tasks that would’ve taken your old kitchen three people. When the ingredient delivery car came, it took all your strength to carry just one box. Horror carried four.

By the time you and Horror were done prepping, you emerged from the kitchen in a flour-dusted apron that was a little too big for you, really craving coffee. You were a tad more confident, glad to have made a friend, and you were determined to figure out how to use that lovely big machine. Maybe you could offer Horror something to drink?

... Dust was there. You hadn’t heard him come in. He was leaning against the counter, reading a book whose title you couldn’t see - sunlight was coming in through the cafe’s front windows, catching the edge of his hood and lighting up what looked like some specks of dust he hadn’t brushed off; it must’ve been late morning now, getting closer to opening time. You somewhat admired his commitment to dressing casual. He was wearing his barista apron over top a white shirt and hoodie, he was absolutely dedicated to dressing like he didn’t want to be there.

You paused just outside the kitchen door. Had you not just spent an hour with Horror, you definitely would’ve considered Dust an intimidating figure - now, though? He didn’t look like much. You hadn’t forgotten your first encounter with him, nor the dismissive way he’d treated you. But he didn’t cause the same pit in your stomach as he had when you first walked into the cafe.

You fixed a polite smile onto your face.

“Hey,” you said softly, taking one or two steps closer but still giving him room. You awkwardly put one hand on the counter. “Morning. You know how to use the coffee machine, right?”

His dark, crimson eyelights flickered up to you from his book. You opened your mouth, about to ask him if he minded showing you how it worked.

... Then he rolled his eyelights at you.

You bristled, a hundred different insults sprang to mind, but your ‘years of working with assholes’ instincts kicked in and your teeth clamped together. You couldn’t help the way your brows twitched, though. What the fuck?

His expression shifted, slightly. But you didn’t really care to stay around long enough to figure out how, or why. If he wanted to be like that, you weren’t going to put up with it, you’d had more than enough experience dealing with terrible coworkers and you weren’t about to waste a moment more with him. You just turned around to head back into the kitchen. After such a pleasant time with Horror, it was whiplash to be treated so badly. You didn’t even want a coffee anymore.

“told you he’s a dick.”

You almost jumped out of your fucking skin. It was Killer. Right behind you, in front of the kitchen door, where you had just come from. How did he get behind the counter? Flustered from being frightened, you put a hand to your chest and let out a few small shocked laughs. “H-holy crap. I didn’t hear... How did you...?”

Killer beamed at your laughter. He leant back against the inside of the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He was remarkably well-dressed, wearing a spotless dark turtleneck underneath his apron and a few silver rings on his phalanges, he stood in stark contrast to Dust. You could definitely imagine him being popular with customers.

“don’t take dust’s needlin’ personally,” he said, tone light and playful. “he’s like that with everyone. works at the coffee machine all day, an’ he point-blank refuses to ever make me or horror any coffee. we just gotta band together and ignore him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, letting out a breath through your nose, lowering the proverbial hackles that Dust had made you raise. Killer’s aura was... infectious, really, it was brightening and easygoing. You know what? Two out of three coworkers being nice was great. Better than some people had.

You turned around, glancing over your shoulder, to get a look at the guy who was being such an asshole to you.

... Dust was gone.

“Eh?” Your back straightened in surprise, and your head swiveled back and forth. You couldn’t see him anywhere in the cafe.

“he’s on a smoke break, probably.” Killer clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Wait - did he? He made a sound that resembled the action, for sure. But he didn’t have a tongue, right? He was a skeleton. You looked back at him.

“But we haven’t even opened yet?” you said, bewildered.

“toldja. he’s just the worst. don’t ask him for anything, he’ll make you feel dumb for askin’.” He shifted his weight onto one foot, bending his knee slightly. “if you wanna know where anything is, just ask me.”

“... Ah. Okay.” You smiled again, appreciative. “Thank you, Killer.”

He grinned anew, corners of his sockets lifting.

“you’re cute. i’m real ‘excited to be workin’ with you.”

... Your mouth opened slightly, taken aback. What? Did you hear that right?

“Yeah, excited to be working with you too,” you blurted, absolutely no idea how to respond. Did he mean cute like adorable? Or cute like... “But I’ll be in the kitchen most of the time, right?”

“course. but it’s a quiet cafe. nice.” He tilted his skull, talking so casually and warmly, like he didn’t literally just call you cute. “we’ll get lots of chances to chat. lots of time to get to know each other better.”

“Sure.” Your head was spinning, heart starting to thud. You were glad your voice came out so much calmer than you actually felt. Was this just his personality? That had to be it. He had to just be the kind of guy that sounded flirty. Your hands twisted in your apron. “That... that sounds great,”

Killed leaned, resting his elbow on the counter and putting his chin on his hand.

“i’d love to get to know you better,” he purred.

Okay, no, you were definitely being flirted with. A flush of heat prickled your cheeks. Oh my stars, he probably wanted you to respond. How were you supposed to respond?

Fwump! A blue cloth landed on Killer’s skull, then flopped onto the counter. It made you jump, but Killer’s only reaction was a slight annoyed downturn in his smile. You looked over your shoulder - Dust was walking away, toward the back of the cafe, probably to put his book away.

“I-I should get baking then, huh?” Taking advantage of the lull you quickly darted past Killer, turning around and using your back to push the kitchen door open. “I’ve got, uh... dough. That needs... attending to,”

You kept backing up. Killer advanced, still smiling. “mind if i come see? not much of a baker, myself.”

“I-I don’t know if...”

A massive shape moved into your field of view. Suddenly, Horror’s hand slammed into the door frame. He had moved with a startling amount of speed for such a large guy. With just that move, he body blocked the doorway entirely, sending Killer reeling back.

“kitchen staff only.” Horror didn’t sound happy.

“since when was that a rule?” Killer didn’t sound happy either. “stop getting so possessive.”

... You couldn’t see anything. Only Horror’s back. But you caught the way Killer’s face twisted, smile falling.

“fuckin’ hell. message received. don’t have to get so weird about it.”

You didn’t wait to find out what happened next. Flustered and confused and just grateful to be back in the kitchen (clearly a safe zone), you turned away from the mess happening in the doorway.

... Something on the counter caught your eye.

A fresh coffee. In a pretty stoneware mug. It was on your side of the kitchen, but you definitely hadn’t put it there.

Just from a glance, you could tell it was your usual. And it was clearly new, made within a few minutes, there were still gentle wisps of steam rising from its surface.

... Cautiously, you picked it up. There was only one person who had been at the counter the whole time Killer was flirting and Horror was baking.

You took a sip.

...

You were getting some pretty mixed signals from Dust.

But damn. He knew how to make a good coffee.

---

When you envisioned the sort of person that ran a cute little independent cafe like this, you definitely pictured someone that matched the decorations. Someone friendly, bookish, tasteful. Perhaps an owl monster, or a plant monster with big monstera leaves, or even a human (specifically one who wore dungarees). Someone who looked like they probably had a beautiful private Instagram.

... The person behind the counter shifted, at the sight of you entering the cafe once again. It looked like he had been cleaning the coffee machine until you walked in, a small rag in one giant clawed hand.

“ah. thank you for coming in after closing,” he said. His voice, soft and deep and satiny. His smile, ice white.

When you envisioned this cafe’s owner, you didn’t picture Nightmare.

You shuffled over to the counter. There was a stool pulled up to it, but you didn’t sit down, too nervous to. “No problem,” you said, tiny. “I was going to come back and prep some stuff anyway.”

Horror may have been taller. Killer’s tears may have been more visually striking, Dust’s face may have been ‘spookier’. But there was no one with an aura like Nightmare’s. By all appearances, he was just a skeleton monster with pitch black and tarry bones - considering there were monsters that were ten-foot springs on fire and giant carnivorous fish with teeth the length of your forearm, a skeleton with tarred bones was nothing. He didn’t appear particularly out of the ordinary. He was wearing a well fitted black button-up shirt, and a silver watch on one skeletal wrist... a perfectly average humanoid monster.

But there was just something about him. You felt it, the moment you walked into the interview. Something about the way he held himself, something about his air, the slightest tilt of his chin. That sharp, brilliantly cyan eyelight - whoever could’ve guessed that cyan could be such a powerful colour? Something about him set off an instinctual nervousness deep inside you, a flighty feeling that told you to pay close attention to every move he made.

You swallowed.

... It was very attractive.

You could never, ever say it aloud. Especially since he was your boss. But everything that made Nightmare intimidating to you just made you blush. You felt it the moment you walked into the interview, and you felt it now; his overwhelming energy made your breath catch in your throat. He was handsome. Strong jaw, defined cheekbones, but not too sharp or angular. Just... nice to look at.

There were some papers, and a pen, on his side of the counter. He slid them over to you. You didn’t know why, but you expected the tips of his claws to leave black marks on the white paper - they didn’t.

“just some documents for you to sign,” he said. His voice wasn’t as deep as Horror’s, but nevertheless, it reverberated inside your chest. “had to be in-person. then you’re all on board.”

“Oh, okay.” You picked up the pen.

“i wanted to check how your first day was, too.” He set aside the rag he’d been holding, and leant on the counter. Both elbows. There was still almost a metre between you, but it felt as if he was pressing into your personal space bubble. You could smell something; a cologne, maybe? It was really good. “how was it?”

“Good,” you replied, shakily, completely unable to concentrate on the words actually on the paper. “Everyone was nice. Horror, especially.”

“i’m glad to hear it.”

“Killer... did flirt with me, though.”

Nightmare’s brows raised. “did it make you uncomfortable?”

“N-not really. Just confused.” Why did you blurt words out like that around him? You’d done the exact same in the interview, just saying whatever came to mind. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

He cared whether or not you were uncomfortable... that was sweet.

Nightmare tsked. “he’s like that with everyone. but he shouldn’t be. i will have a word. tell me if it happens again, i’ll beat some sense into him.”

Not expecting that last line, you coughed out a little laugh. Nightmare was clearly pleased, grin inching up his face.

“let me make you something to drink.” He shifted off his elbows, hands flat on the counter.

You stood up straighter. “O-oh, it’s fine. I wouldn’t - ”

“you aren’t imposing,” he said, turning around and pushing his sleeves up his arms. “sit down.”

Your butt was on the seat. Huh? You’d sat down before you’d even thought about whether or not you wanted to obey. You swallowed again, glad he had turned around and couldn’t see your face. He possessed an incredible gift for sounding commanding, without sounding aggressive.

He took the kettle, bringing it over to the sink and starting to fill it with water.

“I... what’re you making?” you asked, flustered at how easily he was able to make you do as he said.

“it’s a surprise.” He pulled out a mug. “don’t look.”

Well... you had no trouble not looking at what he was making. You couldn’t help the way your eyes were drawn to his arms; the bones that made up his forearm were large and thick, almost as thick as your wrist.

“You’re sure?”

“my treat,” he hummed.

You turned your eyes down, finally actually focusing on the paperwork. It was the usual... bank details, confirming you’d read the employee code of conduct, right-to-work, all of that. Honestly, you skim-read most of it. You tapped the pen gently against the edge of the paper, rather than on the wood, so you could fiddle without making too much of a noise.

As your gaze trailed up and down the pages, signing and dating whichever ones asked for it, you couldn’t help but note how nice this felt. Sitting at the counter, after closing, listening to the sound of Nightmare making something. The kettle boiling, cutlery and equipment clinking, the gentle hiss of the milk steamer. It all felt very... safe. Cosy.

“here,” he said.

You looked up. He was holding the drink out to you. It was a nice dark blue mug you hadn’t seen on the shelf yet. Was it reserved for him?

“Thank you,” you said, softly, reaching out. It smelled incredible. It was clearly hot, and frothy, he’d sprinkled a tiny pinch of dry tea leaves on the top for effect.

As you took the drink from him... his fingertips brushed your hand. You could’ve sworn it was deliberate, like he had shifted his hand specifically to allow the tips of his claws to trace over the top of your palm as you took the drink.

Your cheeks and neck prickled. It must’ve just been an accident. Right? You were looking into it too deeply because you liked him. You cleared your throat, a tiny sound, and sipped the drink.

... It was sweet, hot, comforting. It was creamy and fluffy - yet somehow floral and sophisticated. It felt deep, but layered, it was an absolute treat.

“Woah,” Was all you were able to breathe out.

He rested his forearms on the counter this time. More casual than just the elbows, perhaps. To your relief, he’d made himself one as well, you would’ve felt much too awkward drinking something on your own.

His gaze was relaxed, socket lidded. But at the same time, there was something indecipherable about the way he looked at you. “i’ll take that as a good response...?”

“What is this?” you asked, right before taking another sip.

“lavender london fog. one of my favourites.”

“I’ve always been fond of lavender,”

His eyelight became a fraction wider, and the cyan glow a touch stronger. “... you have good taste,”

“I think I’m done with all the paperwork,”

He tilted his head. “i intimidate you. don’t i?”

...

You made a little surprised, confronted sound, where did that come from?!

“I-I’m so sorry,” you squeaked. “It’s not you, I promise,”

He chuckled. What a lovely sound. “don’t be silly. of course it’s me. i have that effect on people, i always have.”

You were spluttering. You couldn’t deny you were a bit relieved that he knew the whole time, but you still didn’t like that you’d been so obvious. “I feel terrible, though! You’ve been nothing but nice to me,”

“you’ve been nothing but nice, too.” He swirled his drink. You could hear the foam sizzling against the sides of the cup. “despite how obviously unpleasant myself and my employees are, you’ve treated us all very well. don’t think it’s gone unnoticed.”

“You’re not unpleasant,” you stressed, embarrassed and avoiding the compliments.

“it sounds unprofessional,” Nightmare said. “but i mostly hired you for that. your pleasant aura, despite it all.”

“Aura?” you parroted.

“metaphorically speaking.” He finally drew the paperwork back across the counter to him, eyeing your signature. “my boys are... difficult. don’t tell them i called them my boys. hiring has been incredibly troublesome, because until now, they’ve never liked anyone who applied. they’ve chased off three other potential hires already. finding someone they all like has been hard work.”

“Pft.” Your cheeks could not catch a break. They were about as hot as the mug you were squeezing in both your hands. You had no idea you were so desirable, nor so easy to get along with. It was very flattering. “How did they chase them off?”

Nightmare raised his brows. “dear, i would like to keep you around. i don’t think i’ll tell you that.”

You laughed. The pet name flew over your head. Nightmare’s smile wasn’t getting any wider, but... it was getting softer.

“I-I should get to work. I wanted to make some batters now, so they can rest overnight.”

“could i lend a hand?” Nightmare tilted his head. “my baking knowledge is not... extensive. but i’m happy to assist.”

Unlike Killer’s ‘offer’ to help, this one, you were delighted to accept. “Of course. If you don’t mind being told what to do.”

He chuckled.

“if it’s you, i don’t mind one bit.”

#commissions #bad sanses

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car-o-line · 20 hours ago

Note

HII wondering if you could do Matthew hallard as readers best friend when they were both in the orphanage?1?1?1 you could add anything else 😼 im not forcing ANYWAY HAVE A GOOD DAYAYAY

I literally SCREAMED I’m so excited to do a ppt request because chapter 4 was amazing, and because of my ppt brainrot I’ll do Kevin/Jack as well! AND I HOPE UR DAY IS JUST AS AMAZING AS THIS REQUEST🧡❤️💛

Being friends with Matthew/Kevin/Jack(before/after Doey)

Matthew Hallard:

Probably the nicest teenager anyone’s ever met tbh.

Whether you’re younger than him or around the same age as him he’ll treat you like his little sibling. There’s no stopping it.

Always puts your needs above his and he won’t compromise that at all.

Oh you’re thirsty? He suddenly has an apple juice box in his hand! Hungry? Well now he suddenly has a bag of chips in his backpack!

(They were supposed to be for him but shh)

Makes sure all your homework’s done, if not then he’ll scold you for it.

But then he’ll feel bad and help you do it.

If you were around his age you'd probably know about his parent’s accidents he couldn’t prevent.

If you were younger he’d save that topic for when you were older, if only he had time left.

He’d be worried sick when you were taken away because you were “sick”.

Once you came back you seemed hazy, it made him nervous so he held your hand just to let you know that he was there, until you were officially “adopted.”

Later he really found out through his own “sickness” what “adoption” meant.

He hates what the scientists did to you, did to him. It gives him a reason to keep going as Doey.

Kevin Barnes:

How??

Like actually how.

Kevin doesn’t know why he considers you his friend ngl.

The scientists were definitely interested in how you and Kevin got along without you running away from him.

They couldn’t care less about the friendship part but they want to know how it started.

It was easy actually, he randomly tackled you to the ground even though you’ve both never talked before.

You didn’t cry, or scream, instead you reacted like it was a game. Which it was, kind of.

Kevin won in the end because of his physical ability but you thought it was really fun!

So now every time he gets bored he tries to find you and tackle you again.

Other than that he cares for you in his own way.

Like when the scientist took you away because of your sickness?

He wouldn’t let go of your arm no matter how hard the scientists tried to pull.

And the more they did that the more times he’d yell at them that you were fine and didn’t need them.

But they got you when he was sleeping, and when he woke up a new toy appeared in the Playtime Facility.

He never saw you again, even after he was “adopted.”

Jack Ayers:

While he wasn’t an orphan he did go on a visit to the Playtime Factory.

He met you through there, he was really excited to make a new friend.

He asked you so many questions about the orphanage and the facility.

In exchange you got to ask him about his home life and how the outside was.

“You haven’t been outside?”

“This area is considered the outside silly!”

“Really..?”

He felt bad for you and suggested that his parents adopted you!

(they said no)

Instead you just took him to see “Home Sweet Home” and showed him your room.

Then Jacks trip to facility was over and he had to leave, but before that his family was watch the process of making Doey.

Jack leaned over the railings to have a closer look but fell into one of vat machines that were making dough.

But the last glimpse of his consciousness he saw a what looked to be a kid with h/c walking with a scientist to one of the offices.

#poppy playtime x reader #ppt x reader #poppy playtime #platonic #doey the doughman #doey x reader #poppy playtime doey #doey ppt #matthew hallard #kevin barnes #jack ayers #doey #my shaylaaaa #they deserved better #my babiiiiiiies

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eclipixels · 3 days ago

Text

Fruit Roll Up

Character: Yoichi Isagi, Meguru Bachira, Hyoma Chigiri, Rin Itoshi, Seishiro Nagi, Reo Mikage, Sae Itoshi, Michael Kaiser, Ryusei Shidou

Content: Blue Lock boys react to you wanting to wrap a fruit roll up around it (semi crack fic, semi smut)

A/N: inspired by this post -@captainshindo

Warnings: mentions of oral sex

Yoichi Isagi

"Wait, hold on—what?"

Isagi blinked at you like you had just suggested kicking a soccer ball all the way to the moon. His brows furrowed; lips slightly parted in sheer bewilderment as he tried to process your words.

"You wanna put a fruit roll up on… where?"

His voice wavered between confusion and mild concern as he sat there, watching you dangle a blue colorful fruit roll up between your fingers like it was some kind of forbidden delicacy. You grinned, leaning in a little closer, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Come on, Ichi, just trust me on this."

"I mean, sure, I guess. But why?" He shifted awkwardly, fingers twitching against his knee as a flush crept up his neck. His usual composure, the razor-sharp focus he had on the field, seemed to crumble under the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Because I wanna try it out,” you said, pouting just enough to make it almost impossible for him to say no.

His shoulders sagged in surrender, a deep sigh escaping his lips. "If it makes you happy, then—ah! Ohhh, fuck—”

You didn’t even let him finish his sentence before jumping at the opportunity. A victorious grin spread across your face as you reached forward, determination shining in your eyes.

“See? Not such a bad idea, huh?” you mused as you got to work.

Isagi sucked in a sharp breath, throwing his head back with an unexpected hum. His fingers twitched against his sides as if resisting the urge to swat your hands away, but he didn’t. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before peeking at you, filled with a mix of trepidation and intrigue.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" His voice came out breathless, slightly strained.

You tilted your head, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Maybe a little."

"As long as you’re happy," he muttered, exhaling through his nose. His ears were burning red, and he refused to meet your gaze, probably regretting every decision that led him to this moment. And yet, he didn’t stop you.

There was something about seeing Isagi, usually so confident and competitive, now reduced to a flustered mess over something so ridiculously simple. The contrast was almost too much to handle.

"Okay, okay," you giggled, finally pulling back slightly. "What do you think? Rate the experience."

Isagi blinked at you, lips parted like he was still buffering. Then, after a long pause, he swallowed thickly.

"Honestly?" He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting anywhere but at you. "Kinda… weird. But not bad. Like, I didn't think it would work, but now—uh." His sentence trailed off as he looked at you again, expression unreadable.

You smirked, tilting your head. "Go on."

"You might be onto something," he admitted begrudgingly, shifting slightly under your gaze. "But if you tell anyone about this, I swear—"

You snorted, reaching over to poke his cheek. "Relax, Ichi. I don’t tell anyone about anything we do in the bedroom"

"Alright, good. So, uh..." He trailed off, eyes locked onto you with anticipation. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head, waiting for him to continue.

His cheeks flushed as he hesitated before mumbling, "Are you gonna finish?"

A smirk played on your lips. "You want me to?"

"...Yes, please," he admitted, almost shyly.

And that was all the confirmation you needed before putting him back in your mouth and getting to work.

Meguru Bachira

"Oh-ho-ho~? You absolute freak, I love it!" Bachira clapped his hands together, eyes gleaming with mischief like a goblin who had just discovered a new way to cause mayhem. He leaned in closer, watching you with rapt attention.

You pulled out the fruit roll up, mango pineapple flavored and got to work wrapping it around Bachira’s dick.

"Wait, wait, wait—you’re actually doing this? Oh, this is gonna be amazing." His excitement was borderline unhinged, his energy bouncing all over the place as he perched on the edge of his seat, barely able to contain himself.

You didn’t expect him to be this excited. You were actually unsure of how he’d react to your request but this was better than you expected. Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing though because before you even got to put your mouth on it, he was swirling out ideas.

"What’s next, huh? Should we go full dessert mode? Whipped cream? Chocolate drizzle? No? Tch, you’re no fun," he teased, shaking his head dramatically before perking right back up. "Fine, fine! Just fruit rolls ups… for now"

As you rolled your eyes and continued, Bachira, of course, had to make things weirder. He started making airplane noises, rocking side to side like a child hyped up on sugar. "Choo-choo! Here comes the flavor train! Next stop: Meguru’s curiosity!"

You shot him a look, exasperated. "Are you seriously narrating this?"

"Of course! This is a historic moment!" he declared, placing a dramatic hand over his heart.

His laughter bubbled up as he watched you, his gaze filled with that signature mix of chaotic excitement and genuine affection. "Y’know, I gotta say," he mused, tilting his head, "I love the way your brain works. Completely unhinged. Just my type."

His endless enthusiasm made it impossible not to laugh. "You’re ridiculous."

"And you love it," he shot back, beaming.

“Oh–oh! Oh this is… this is better than I was expecting~” Bachira moaned as you put his fruit roll up covered cock all the way into your mouth.

“Yeah?” You hummed, the vibrations from your words contributing to his pleasure

“Oh yeah, please, don’t stop.” He shut his eyes, his hands finding their way to your hair, entangling themselves in it.

At the end of the day, Bachira was a whirlwind of chaos and sugar who made everything twice as fun, just by being himself. And oh how you loved him for it.

Hyoma Chigiri

Chigiri stared at you, utterly unimpressed. His crimson eyes flickered with disbelief as he took in your suggestion, arms crossed in a way that made him look like a prince being subjected to absolute nonsense. "You could have literally suggested anything else," he said, voice as flat as ever, "anything, and you went with fruit roll-ups?"

You nodded enthusiastically.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, pinching the bridge of it like this was giving him an actual migraine. "This has to be some weird diet trend I don’t know about," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Not a diet," you corrected with a grin. "Just an experience."

Chigiri gave you the most deadpan stare imaginable, like he was seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led him to this moment. But despite his apparent suffering, you could see the tiny twitch at the corner of his lips, threatening to betray him.

After a few more seconds of dramatic silence, he sighed in surrender. "Fine," he relented, shifting his weight like a reluctant aristocrat about to partake in the peasantry. "But just this once. And don’t—" he paused, fixing you with a sharp gaze, "—get any on my sheets. I don’t want ants."

You snorted. "That’s what you’re worried about?"

"Obviously," he replied smoothly, flicking his silky, shiny hair over his shoulder like this was just another day of dealing with absolute chaos.

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t done. "And if this ends up being terrible," he continued, narrowing his gaze, "you owe me. Big time."

"Deal," you chirped, already enjoying how much this was ruffling his usually composed demeanor.

As you prepared everything, Chigiri watched you like a hawk—arms crossed, gaze sharp, still looking vaguely offended by the entire ordeal. Yet, despite all his protests, there was no missing the curiosity lurking beneath his exasperation.

He was trying way too hard to act like he wasn’t at least a little intrigued.

And that was exactly why you loved messing with him.

“What’s taking so l-” Before he could finish, you had him in your mouth. He froze for a moment, shocked, but quickly relaxed, melting like putty as you continued, savoring each movement as you slurped him up like a slushie.

“D-don’t stop,” he groaned, eyes squeezed shut, clearly enjoying the experience.

“I’m taking this is going well, and that I won’t have to owe you?” you asked, pulling away. You noticed the disappointed look on his face when you stopped.

“We’re not finished yet. I’ll let you know when we’re done,” he replied, his frown deepening.

“Sounds to me like you’re hoping I’ll keep going,” you teased. “but, you don’t have to tell me twice”

Rin Itoshi

Rin took one look at the fruit roll-ups in your hands, then glanced at you, and without missing a beat, he immediately turned on his heel and started walking away. "No."

You blinked, staring after him. "No? Why not?"

He didn’t even slow down as he walked away, his voice barely turning back to address you. "Because you’re insane."

You gasped dramatically, hand on your chest. "Excuse me?"

Rin rubbed his temples like he could already feel a headache forming. "Find someone else to entertain your sugar-fueled delusions," he called over his shoulder, completely unimpressed.

You stood there, staring at his retreating form, half frustrated and half amused by his complete lack of enthusiasm for your idea.

He came back five minutes later out of pure curiosity.

He stood in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed, watching you with that look like he was contemplating whether he was about to make the worst decision of his life.

"How set are you on this," he began with a sigh, his tone reluctant.

“Very.”

"This is a terrible idea." But despite his words, there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips, and his eyes had softened ever so slightly. Yet, he still walked back into the room, eyeing the way you were on your knees.

You grinned, clearly winning this battle.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes, "I’ll humor you. But, this doesn’t mean I’m into this food fetish thing you got going on"

You could tell he was trying his best to seem unaffected by the ridiculousness of it all, but there was no hiding the faint interest in his eyes as he watched you get to work.

"One condition," Rin added, stepping a little closer now, as if finally accepting that he was going to be involved in whatever you were planning.

You raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Don’t make it weird," his eyes narrowed slightly as if trying to guard himself against whatever might come next.

You leaned in with a grin. "No promises."

Seishiro Nagi

There was only the faintest hint of interest in his eyes as he leaned back on the pillows. He barely even moved, perfectly embodying the phrase ‘no thoughts, just vibes.’

As you started preparing your… unique setup, Nagi just lounged there, sprawled out like a cat in the sun. He didn't have any objections, nor did he offer much in the way of encouragement. He simply watched, not bothered enough to care.

"Seriously? You’re just letting me do this?" you asked.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, his eyes drifting shut for a moment as he stifled a yawn. His voice was so devoid of energy that it was impossible to tell if he was bored or just entertained by how over-the-top you were being.

You kept going, not letting his disinterest stop you. After all, this was Nagi, his lack of reaction was practically a sign that you were doing something right.

The only time Nagi actually stirred was when a stray piece of the fruit roll up fell on his stomach, just within his reach. Without even opening his eyes, he lazily reached for it, grabbed it, and popped it into his mouth with zero fanfare.

"Huh. Tasty," he muttered, completely unfazed. He didn’t even bother elaborating or making a face.

"You’re so weird," you said, shaking your head, but secretly enjoying the way he just went with it.

"Says you," Nagi scoffed with a lazy grin, his eyes flicking over to you briefly.

"That’s why you love me." you smiled before taking him in, enjoying the way the fruit roll up melted in your mouth against the heat of your warm tongue. Nagi hissed at the feeling, giving you the first reaction of this whole ordeal.

“How does it feel?” You asked, pulling away to wipe the drool off your lips.

“Feels like…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Like you should keep going.”

Reo Mikage

Reo nearly choked on air when you casually dropped the suggestion, his entire body stiffening in surprise. "Excuse me—what?" he managed, his voice high and incredulous. You, on the other hand, were entirely unphased, raising an eyebrow at his dramatic reaction.

"Fruit. Roll. Ups." you said slowly, as if that explained everything.

"I heard you. I just… why?" Reo blinked several times, mouth hanging open as he tried to process what you’d just said. He reached for his glass of water, clearly trying to calm himself down, but it only served to make the situation worse. He buried his face in his hands with a long, exasperated sigh, as if he was somehow both embarrassed and horrified.

"I swear, this is why rich people get accused of having weird kinks," he muttered, his voice muffled by the palms of his hands.

You smirked, leaning back casually, clearly enjoying the sight of his spiraling. "Well, you know what they say, if the shoe fits," you teased.

"I don’t even know where to begin with this suggestion."

You shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "It’s simple. Fruit Roll-Ups. You wrap it around things. You eat it. End of story."

"I—" He stopped himself, pinching the bridge of his nose like he was trying to stave off a headache. His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief, his usual grace and composure slipping for just a moment. "Why Fruit Roll-Ups of all things? Why not… I don’t know, something normal like chocolate or honey or strawberries or—anything that makes sense?"

"Why not?" you countered with a teasing grin. "It’s fun, it’s colorful, it’s sugary. What’s not to love?"

"I… I just can’t believe you’re serious about this." He leaned back in his chair.

"Come on, Reo," you prodded, trying not to laugh at his genuine discomfort. "What’s the worst that could happen?”

“It’s just weird, alright?”

"I mean, it’s not like you have to do it, but…" You paused for effect, watching his every move.

He let out a dramatic groan, the sound of someone utterly defeated. "I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?"

"Maybe," you teased, enjoying the drama unfolding before you. "But isn’t that what makes it fun?"

“This is fun to you?”

"You’re right," you said with a playful grin. "I should’ve suggested something weirder. Like… jelly beans and pickles."

His eyes went wide. "No! Absolutely not! I have some standards, okay? My dick isn’t some candy buffet, Y/n, damn.”"

“Aw, man.” You pouted, pretending to be disappointed.

"You’re insane. But fine," he said after a beat, finally giving in, his voice resigned. "If this is what you want, I’ll play along, but just so you know, I will be silently judging you this whole time."

You raised an eyebrow. "Judging me? Oh please, I’m gonna make you a mess under me.”

The thought sent a shiver down Reo’s body. He was getting mad at himself from how turned on he was starting to get. "Whatever. Let’s just get this over with— JESUS CHRIST WOMAN, YOU COULD’VE GAVE ME A WARNING.”

Yeah, he came three times.

Sae Itoshi

Sae just stared at you. Then at the fruit roll up. Then back at you.

"You need therapy."

“Sae, what the hell.” You gasp.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly confused by your silent, almost eager stare. “You’re weird,” he muttered, a little edge to his tone. “Why would I let you do that?”

You shrugged innocently, feeling a little giddy, “I just think it would be fun.”

You leaned in just a bit, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, Sae. Don’t tell me you’re not curious.”

His gaze flickered to the fruit roll-up again, then back to your face, his expression still unreadable. “You need serious help.”

You simply frowned, the corners of your mouth turning down with a playful defiance. “You’re not going to let me? Really?”

"No." He replied, his voice steady and unbothered, almost too simple.

"Saeee..." You stretched his name out dramatically, your eyes wide with pleading. "Please?"

He raised an eyebrow, his expression resigned. "What kind of pleasure do you get from this, other than tormenting me?"

"It’ll be fun, I swear," you insisted with a hopeful grin.

He shook his head, sighing deeply as though he couldn’t believe the words coming from your mouth. "This isn’t fun, Y/n. This is odd. You’re odd. I’ve already said no, so stop asking."

Defeated, you let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping in exaggerated disappointment. Slowly, you walked off to put the box of fruit roll-ups back, doing your best to suppress the letdown you were feeling.

Later that day, you were sitting on the couch, sulking a little, when you heard the familiar shuffle of his footsteps. Surprised, you looked up to see him standing in front of you, a box of fruit roll-ups in hand. He refused to make eye contact, simply shoving the box into your hands without a word.

You blinked at him, completely caught off guard. "What’s this?"

He grumbled, his voice almost a growl. "Fine. You can do it."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. "Really? What made you change your mind?"

He rolled his eyes, clearly irritated but unable to hide the hint of frustration beneath his words. "Does it even matter? Just... let’s get this over with before I change my mind again."

"Okay! Yippie!" You exclaimed.

Without wasting a second, you leapt up from the couch, your excitement bubbling over. You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug, planting kisses all over his face in a flurry of joy before dragging him to the bedroom to give him the most toe-tingling, sheet-gripping, jaw-breaking blow job of his entire life all with his dick wrapped in a fruit roll up.

Michael Kaiser

“What’s… this?” Kaiser asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and slight confusion as he watched you settle comfortably between his legs, unwrapping a brightly colored fruit roll-up.

You gave him a nonchalant glance, still focused on your task. “A fruit roll-up,” you answered simply, as though the answer was obvious.

He didn’t even flinch as you casually unzipped his pants, a move that was second nature between the two of you. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness. You had an unspoken understanding, a rhythm that allowed such actions to be taken without question. You both made sure to check in with each other, confirming mutual comfort and consent, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious when you did.

Kaiser eyed you intenty, his gaze flickering between your hands and your face, the curiosity and interest clear in his expression. It wasn’t often that he had to wonder about your next move.

“I can see that,” he murmured, the hint of a smile playing on his lips, though his eyes narrowed in on you. “But what exactly are you doing?”

“I’m wrapping it around your dick while I suck you off.” You say casualy.

“What?” He looked at you like you were insane. “The fuck?”

You threw a Fruit Roll-Up at his face, the candy whizzing through the air and slapping against his cheek with an audible squelch.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard by it, his expression shifting to one of disbelief as he slowly peeled the sticky fruit snack off his skin. “The hell? What’d you do that for?” he frowned, his voice laced with confusion.

“You talk too much,” you said, your tone cool. “Just let me suck you off with a fruit roll up around it.”

Kaiser’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flashing in them. “I never said yes,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a hint of challenge beneath it.

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “You never said no,”

Kaiser chuckled, the deep sound of amusement escaping him. “You're a strange one, aren’t you?” He smirked, resting his chin in his hand, eyes glinting with something that bordered between mischief and intrigue. “But I like strange. It keeps things interesting."

He leaned forward slightly, making the moment feel far more dramatic than it had any right to be. He seemed to take your little silly idea and blow it up, turning it into some high-class, avant-garde experience, as if he were about to set the stage for a grand performance.

“If we’re doing this,” he grabbed your chin, tilting your face to have your gaze meet his, “we do it my way.”

Ryusei Shidou

Shidou didn’t hesitate. His excitement was instant and electric, the mischievous gleam in his eyes only growing as he took a step toward you, rubbing his hands together like a mad scientist about to unveil his latest, chaotic experiment.

“Fuck yeah! Let’s get weird!” he cheered, his voice booming with confidence.

You blinked at him, barely processing his enthusiasm, but the way he immediately dove into brainstorming ideas made you grin despite yourself. Shidou was never one to shy away from insane shit like this.

“What if we melt chocolate on it? Or dip it in Red Bull? OOH, what if we—”

“Ryu, no,” you cut him off, shaking your head, but even as you spoke, you couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous the possibilities were. Chocolate and Red Bull? He was serious about it too, you could see it in his eyes.

“Ryu, yes.” He pushed back.

His unwavering energy propelling him into territory you weren’t even sure you’d signed up for. A fruit roll-up was one thing, but now, the absurd ideas were starting to sound less like wild jokes and more like they could actually happen.

“Just imagine, Y/n. We could put gummy bears on it. Or maybe marshmallows. Maple syrup. Do you even know how good that would be?”

You stared at him, trying to process the combination of ingredients he was suggesting. The thought alone made your stomach do the thing (your pancreas crying from that diabetic nightmare), but for some reason, you could almost see it working. You did like those snacks,

But still, you had to draw a line somewhere.

“Red bull? Isn’t that a little... too much? Like, even for you?”

Shidou’s face lit up like a lightbulb. “Not enough,” he said matter-of-factly, throwing his arms wide in dramatic flair. “It needs to be bold, right? We’re talking flavor explosion. This isn’t a snack, it’s a masterpiece.”

“Let’s just start with the fruit roll-up, we’ll think about the other stuff after.”

Shidou looked disappointed for all of two seconds before a devilish grin crossed his face again. “Deal. But just so you know, you’ve opened Pandora’s box. I’m not responsible for where this goes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. The man was practically salivating over the idea of you giving him blowjobs with various snacks on his dick.

You unwrapped the fruit roll-up slowly, the shiny, sticky paper catching the light. Shidou purred at the sight of your delicate hands working so meticulously into wrapping it around his throbbing cock. You looked so pretty, all concentrated as you did the strangest things with him. That’s why he loved you, you matched his freak.

By the time it was all over, Shidou had somehow convinced you to incorporate donuts, bagels, whipped cream, honey, and even the gummy worms he so desperately wanted you to use. When the chaos finally settled, your throat ached, your stomach full, and your face was a mess—covered in a mix of food crumbs, sugar, and the remnants of his sweet, milky cum.

#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x y/n #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you

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wordsofyore · 3 days ago

Text

Yandere Neighbor! Konig x Fem. Reader

You are used to cooking for your whole family, but now that you live alone, you find yourself inexplicably cooking more food than you need, and given the limited space in your second-hand fridge, you decide to just share the extra bites with your giant, quiet neighbor.

He's... intimidating, what with his height (seriously, you don't think you've seen anyone this tall), and the weird dark hood covering his face. But those eyes, those sad, baby blue eyes does something to you. He goes from this titan-who-can-singlehandedly-crush-your-skull image to an oversized, unloved stray dog in your mind, once you actually get to interact with him.

The poor guy seems like he's struggling to come up with a reply when you shove a whole box of freshly cooked spaghetti to his face with an apologetic smile, explaining the situation. You see his eyes widen before hesitantly accepting the dish, his calloused hand accidentally brushing against yours in the process. You can't help but feel your cheeks heat up at the contact. Clearing your throat, you take the chance to finally introduce yourself properly. He murmurs your name under his breath, and you don't question the rather strange name he gives you in return. You're curious, but decide it's best to not get too deep into someone else's business. It's good enough for you to not feel the awkwardness when you pass by each other in the hallways, exchanging nods and smiles (at least you do, anyways).

There's this one time you can't open a jar of pickles, and just as you start missing the way you could rely on your dad for things like this, you suddenly remember Konig. It's a little embarrassing, but you decide it was well worth the effort, just for the sake of satisfying your cravings. So you pad over to his door, knock twice on his door, and he's right before you, looking down at you with what you discern is a mix of curiosity and confusion. You explain your predicament, and he's immediately reaching out for the jar and opens it with a single try. You blush under his now amused gaze, thanking him under your breath before you head back to your apartment with your tail tucked between your legs (you end up sharing some food out of goodwill just a bit later).

Neighbor Konig is useful to have around, to say the very least. He fixes your leaking pipes, and kills bugs for you when you're too freaked out to go near one. You feel some reassurance knowing he's nearby, especially when you realize someone's stalking you, breaking into your apartment, and sifting through your clothes (you were sure you were missing a pair of panties or two).

It's especially scary when you wake up and find your window open all the way when you were sure you had it closed tight the night before. Your landlord merely shrugs helplessly when you ask for extra security, and they're still just as useless when some pipe bursts in your unit, leaving the place flooded and the little worldly possessions you have water-damaged. But that's when your personal hero shows up, your giant, blue-eyed neighbor, offering you a place to tuck your head in while your place gets fixed up. You can't help but hug the guy as you feel yourself break down under all the stress. In return, he says something in German as he gently pats your back.

It's... nice, to have someone around you as you settle into a temporary routine. You both cook side by side in the kitchen, share meals and stories, and watch TV or play board games in the evenings. All is well and good until you sort out the shared laundry and find the missing underwear. At least, you think it's the one you owned... but Konig was a pleasant guy, surely he wouldn't... Sure, you don't ever hear him mentioning any girlfriends or anything of the sort, but maybe, just maybe, it was something someone left behind at his place. Yeah, that could very well be the case, you shouldn't assume the worst, especially when the guy was looking out for you like this...

To Konig, you are a little ray of sunshine. A beacon of hope and light and all things sweet and fragile in his bleak existence. He had more or less accepted that he would live out the rest of his life as an outcast, ignored and feared and ridiculed. To have been noticed by a sweet, shy thing like you was already more than he deserved. To get a taste of what it'd be like to have a little wife, he should say it was enough, but... it wasn't. No, rather, it opened the gates to a chasm inside of him that wanted to devour you whole and not leave a crumb behind for anyone else.

So, please forgive him for all the things he's doing to catch you in his net. Sure, he was a dirty old colonel who kills people for money, but he sure as hell can take care of a pretty little thing like you, give you the life you deserve, free from worries about bills and shitty bosses. Free from having to deal with boys who won't treat you nice. You wouldn't mind him putting a few bullets through their heads, would you?

#yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig mw2 #konig x you #konig call of duty #yancore #yandere cod

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sohasters · 3 days ago

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🥒✈️Cumplane Secret identity AU???

Peerless cucumber becomes so notorious that he starts getting Airplane notices semi-regularly. Airplane needs some extra cash so he starts doing vtube/voice change streams where he draws PIDW characters, comics, monsters etc - he's a talented baby what can I say, and he gets a decent stream following, offering sneak peeks at his creative process - but he really doesn't want his face and ID as an erotica writer out there thank you!!!

Peerless Cucumber is absolutely ridiculous in his chat, ubiquitous, always there the second he starts streaming. Constantly dropping huge donos to ask ridiculous lore questions that literally go on for minutes... riding herd on other chatters and policing people... Eventually him being "worst mod" becomes a meme, and Airplane mods him mostly as a joke.

They start messaging, and weirdly it's not hellfire? Modding the channel is the first actually constructive thing Shen Yuan has done, like, ever. It turns out that when he has actual responsibility, he takes it pretty seriously? He's more reliable than anyone, especially himself, could have expected him to be? Everyone still clowns in him and calls him "worst mod", "everyone tell the mods they suck" but it starts to be affectionate, because he actually helps detoxify the community a little? (Only HE is allowed to be toxic on airplane's channel!!)

He decides to take a media and communications degree because social media is the only thing he's ever been good at. He sees a guy with a PIDW sticker on his laptop in his lectures, and they become study buddies! It's great!

They talk about their shared appreciation for PIDW probably more than they should. Study Buddy is pretty chill, he teases Shen Yuan for his BingGe obsession. Shen Yuan doesn't want to be a dick, so he doesn't really slag it off as much as he would online? And Study Buddy LIKES talking about the monsters and how cool Bing-gege is!! Maybe they talk enough that Shen Yuan figures maybe there's a reason he was never into wife plots? Maybe he's actually just... Not into... You know.... Girls? That way??? And Study Buddy is super chill? And maybe it's okay to talk about that stuff???

Meanwhile he's still chatting with airplane, who gets invited to attend a con to be on some kind of panel. He asks cucumber-bro along because he's shitting BRICKS, and he wants someone there who will, like... be in his corner?

Turns out Shen Yuan already has tickets because he and his study buddy were planning to go!

Oh, and look at that! He and airplane are booked at the same hotel! It's convenient!

They decide to meet in the lobby.

Shen Yuan and his study buddy go to their separate rooms to freshen up and rest, with a plan to meet for breakfast. Thirty minutes later, they're both back in the lobby.

Both of them are "waiting for someone."

Both of their "someones" are running LATE.

Shen yuan messages Airplane.

Study Buddy's phone buzzes.

Their eyes meet.

No fucking WAY. this is the guy who talked him through his LBH inspired GAY AWAKENING!! The friendly and supportive "bro" he has COMPLICATED FEELINGS ABOUT??? And that's AIRPLANE?

He literally spent five minutes TALKING ABOUT LBH'S MUSCULAR CHEST AND STAR STUDDED GAZE... to AIRPLANE????

Has he really spent MONTHS coming to the terms with the fact that AIRPLANE is kinda....

Could Bingge maybe portal in with Xin Mo and drag Shen Yuan to hell, because he can't deal with this 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

#svsss #cumplane #shen yuan #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #secret identity #fic snippet

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delilahsturniolo · 3 days ago

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୨୧ people watching . . . ravenclaw!matt x hufflepuff!reader

(this is just a oneshot, but i could make it an au in the future if you guys like it!)

hogwarts, a magical and mysterious place that held many stories of love and rivalry, but none quite like the one between you and matthew sturniolo.

you were a hufflepuff—a quiet, bookish girl with a heart as soft as a whisper. you absolutely adored the smell of paper and ink, the warmth of the hufflepuff common room, and the way sunlight shined through the greenhouse windows during your favorite class, herbology. something you didn’t enjoy however, was attention.

matthew, on the other hand, was a ravenclaw with a reputation. he was brilliant, charming, and—unfortunately for you, utterly adored by nearly every girl at hogwarts. his deep blue eyes held the mysteries of the universe, his intelligence and wittiness made professors smile, and his kindness made people swoon over him like there was no tomorrow. there wasn’t a single girl who didn’t at least flirt with him once or have a crush on him.

except you. or . . . so you gaslight yourself to believe.

you did like him. a lot, actually. but you always told yourself that you were far too shy to ever say anything to him. after all, why would matthew sturniolo, the most sought-after boy in school, notice you? a lame, quiet, and reserved hufflepuff?

yet, to your surprise—he did.

It started in the library. you always sat at the farthest table near the restricted section at the back, where it was quietest. it was a quiet evening to say the least, you head was buried into a book as you studied for your care of magical creatures class. when suddenly, matt strolled in. his head was up high, his blue tie hung around his neck, his brown hair looked slightly disheveled from a recent quidditch match.

“mind if i sit here?” he asked, setting his books down before you could even process what was happening. your heart pounded with anxiety and anticipation, nodding at him.

however, this wasn’t the only time this had happened. over the next few weeks, this became a routine. matt would show up, sit beside you, and strike up quiet conversations. he often asked about your favorite books, interests, and more. matt listened to every word you said. he was good at that, he was genuinely curious about you, never once growing bored of your timid responses. he didn’t really see an issue in getting to know you. you found yourself relax even more each time the two of you would interact.

but, there was a problem. every girl in hogwarts noticed the two of you.

they whispered in the corridors, giggling about you in hushed tones. they sent you sharp, and mean glances when they saw you walking beside him after class. some girls were even bold enough to ask matt directly why he spent so much time with you when he could have anyone else.

you eventually decided to just stop speaking to matt, you thought it was for the best honestly, you didn’t want people to hate you, after all. so, you ignored matt when he approached you in the hallways. you never sat in your usual seat in the library, you walked with someone else to class.

matt noticed how distant and cold you were being towards him, without an explanation. he felt confused, and hurt. why were you suddenly ignoring him? a few days ago you both talked to each other 24/7, what changed? those were the types of thoughts running through matt’s head.

one night, you were sitting on a wooden bench near the black lake, your knees tucked into your chest as you watched the reflection of the moon on the water. you haven’t spoken to matt in a week, and everything felt different, but not in a good way.

“y/n?”

you turned your head, startled. matt stood there, hands in his pockets, looking more uncertain than you had ever seen him.“you’ve been avoiding me.” his voice was quiet, but it held a weight of pain, and hurt in it as well.

you swallowed hard. “i—i haven’t been.” you lied right through your teeth.

he raised a brow. ravenclaws could always see through lies. “you ever gonna stop bullshitting with me and tell me the truth?” matt scoffed in disbelief. you sighed heavily. “it’s just… people are talking. they don’t understand why you’d want to be around…someone like me, y’know?”

matt sat beside you. “let them talk,” he said simply.

you blinked at him, speechless. “what?”

“i don’t care what anyone at this stupid school thinks, y/n. i like spending time with you. and if you’d let me, i’d like to spend even more time with you.”

your breath caught, you were in disbelief from what he was saying to you. “really…? you…would?”

matt chuckled. “of course i would. you’re kind, brilliant, and you don’t care about silly things like popularity. you’re real, and genuine. those other girls? they’re mean, and probably only want to get with me for their reputation. i know you, i know you aren’t like that. it’s…quite refreshing actually.”

you felt warmth spread throughout your chest.

for the first time in a long time, you smiled, you truly and genuinely smiled at him. as matt smiled back, you realized that maybe, just maybe, love wasn’t only reserved for the loud, the bold, or the ones who demanded attention. sometimes, love found the quiet ones, too. you realized in this moment, you didn’t need to change yourself to find love. all you did was be yourself, live authentically, and love found it’s way to you. a fucking ravenclaw, too. who on earth would’ve known?

taglist

a/n 💌: hiii!! i know this is superrr different from what i usually write, i’ve never written anything about harry potter before so i’m really truly sorry if anything is unrealistic, i haven’t watched harry potter in years and lowk had to do some research in order to write this. let me know if you guys want more!

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schlattsdarling · 19 hours ago

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ugh that dad schlatt headcanon has me thinking about my own!! he would soooo want like a pretty big family (like a minimum of three kiddos) :(( he also just loves seeing you pregnant with HIS kids

IM SO GLAD PEOPLE LIKED IT BC I THINK ABOUT THIS NON STOP

Dad!Schlatt HC’s Part 2

• “Jay I’m not on the pill, you gotta pull out”

• “Shhh sweetheart, lemme fill you up yeah?. You'll look so fucking pretty with my kids in you”

• “Mmm yeah you wanna knock me up? Get your pretty girl pregnant?”

• And oh boy he’s done for

• Bottoming out as soon as he hears those filthy words leave your mouth

• Fills you up to the brim… and a few times after just to make sure, right?

• Telling him you’re pregnant?

• He cries, don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise

• “Don’t fucking play with me doll”

• You show him the test and the waterworks start

• “I’m gonna be a dad! A DAD! Oh my, look at you my pretty mama”

• You genuinely couldn’t ask for a better person to do this with

• He’d be so hands on during the whole process, wanting you both to be involved in everything

• Painting the nursery? He’s reaching all the parts you can’t

• Changed your mind on the colour? He’s running to the shop to get another

• The birth of your firstborn. oh my lord

• TERRIFIED

• He’s more scared than you, and you’re about to push an entire human out of you

• He’s pacing the room the entire time

• Constantly interrupting doctors to ask questions, I mean his minds running at 100mph

• Gets you everything you need in a heartbeat

• When it’s actually time he’s by your side, brushing hair out of your face, letting you crush his hand

• “Doing so well mama” “Doing such a good job” “Hey, hey you’re so close!”

• The calm after the storm

• He’s sitting half on the hospital bed, an arm around you and your little girl

• “Holy shit. Now it feels real”

• You just laugh and hit his arm playfully

• You cried. He cried. She cried. Everyone cried.

• But now it’s the 3 of you in silence

• “You wanna hold her?”

• You’ve never seen him nod that frantically

• He holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world

• Well, she is

• You have your head on his shoulder, gazing up at the two of them

• How did you get so damn lucky

#jschlatt #jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #schlatt #jschlatt smut #schlatt smut #jschlatt fluff

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cowboyschumi · 14 hours ago

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HEARTLESS

Summary: Lando Norris has entered his heartless era with no intention of leaving it anytime soon. Now he’s hunting for prey on Raya, and that’s where he stumbles upon you.

Author’s note: Y'all really thirst over Mister Norris, my god. English is not my first language. Enjoy the reading lovelies, interactions are much appreciated.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, cheating mention, cursing ig. Tried to be inclusive, reader's gender is not specified.

————————————————————————

Luisa was the best Lando ever had, everyone knew it including him, but he wouldn’t admit it out loud. The only ones cheering over their breakup were jealous, parasocial thirteen-year-olds.

But that was long ago. He moved on pretty quickly, not exactly beating the cheating allegations. Russian model this, Brazilian actress that… and it was all true. There was no denying. He was really enjoying his singleness, having a blast every heated Sunday. But beyond that? Nothing. He got scared easily by commitment or brushed off any trace of a slight chance of dating someone seriously.

He didn’t know why, this tendency to avoid and escape. Deep down, he knew he was hurt. Not hurt by someone else, though. He did it all by himself, ruining the only real thing he ever had. Fans who cared pointed it out: 'His spark is missing,' 'We miss silly old Lando!'

And after claiming he didn’t want to mature because he was happy where he was, he finally matured. Or at least, he pretended to, showing himself as nonchalant and bold. Expressiveness and cameras were just a performance, because in his daily life, he still acted like a teenage boy, eager to get laid

Anyone with an average experience on dating apps knew they were the worst—a way to boost egos based on looks, only to end up rejected and discarded. Raya seemed different, more polite, you guessed. You weren’t the dating type, but curiosity got the best of you. You wanted to know what the hype was about.

Lando, on the other hand, spent most of his day on that app. Every girl swiped right on him, but he rarely matched with someone he actually liked. He wasn’t too strict about looks, he was more of a 'the bigger, the better' type of guy.

Raya wasn’t Tinder. Access was limited, and confidentiality was a must. That’s why you were really surprised when you got in after an exhausting approval process. Your friends freaked out, screamed, and practically climbed the walls of your apartment—the excitement was real. Maybe even a little more than yours.

"Hand me the phone." I don’t even know all these people you’re swiping left and right on." Your patience was limited, and your friends knew exactly how to test it. They kept using your Raya like it was theirs while you minded your own business, eating ice cream. You had no intention of swiping, and the girls knew it, that’s why they took matters into their own hands.

"Oh. My. God. Shut up."

"That’s Lando Norris!" One of them immediately snatched the phone from your friend’s hands.

"Who’s Lando Norris?"

They looked at you like you had just committed a crime, or like they’d seen a ghost behind you. You weren’t sure if your question was out of place or if it was the fact that you had just spoken with a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth

"You’re kidding, right?" Finally, one of them spoke after a long, awkward silence.

FOMO—a word used by chronically online people to describe the fear of missing out, not knowing what’s going on, feeling excluded. That was exactly how you felt for not knowing who Lando Norris was.

"Formula One driver?" Now the phone was in your hands. You were reading his description with the screen practically glued to your face, like a mom who can’t see a thing unless it’s that close.

"That guy beat Verstappen a few times, right?" That was the only thing you could come up with, just from scrolling through Twitter and catching bits of the news. You didn’t know a single thing about the sport.

And sometimes, famous people liked that: their love interests not knowing anything about them, their jobs, the rumors, or the creepy facts.

Your Raya profile didn’t have anything special, aside from your picture-perfect photos. Celebrities didn’t actually care about you deep down—only if you fit their beauty standards. Being active and checking profiles wasn’t on your to-do list. It was just pure curiosity.

But somehow, you two matched. May the universe know under what circumstances and why.

————————————————————————

"When will I have the chance to meet you?"

His text was blunt, like you already knew each other. Maybe even a little desperate.

"What happened to 'Hello, how are you, my name is…'?"

You answered sarcastically, but truthfully. Not introducing yourselves was kind of rude. But you got the point, Lando didn’t care about who you were or what you had to say. The quicker you ended up in his bed, the better.

He laughed at your text, you had the kind of sense of humor he’d fall for. He wouldn’t lie, he enjoyed how obsessed girls were with him and how quickly the dirty talk escalated with just one message. But to his surprise, you weren’t that easy to win over.

"Haha, sorry. Is dinner fine with you?"

Wow, he was really a bad texter. The driest you’d ever seen, dare you say. Was it a guy thing or just a wannabe mysterious famous person thing? You hoped the conversation would be better in person because, damn, it’d be a shame if his pretty face had nothing to say.

"Send me the addy. I don’t need an F1 driver picking me up, I’d rather pass."

Your fear of speed was a thing.

————————————————————————

Lando was attractive. You weren’t exactly interested, but nervousness ran through your veins. Dates always did this over you—stuttering, sweaty palms, and way too much overthinking. You even considered canceling, but your friends wouldn’t let you.

You were a fashion design student, meaning you had some knowledge of trends and what suited your silhouette. Lately, silky long attires were your go-to for night fits; simple, elegant. You dressed for yourself, for comfort, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention and the flattering compliments on your fashion sense.

Monaco was small. Getting anywhere was a short drive, so the Uber didn’t take long. But as you stepped out of the car, your stomach twisted. The restaurant in front of you was huge, glowing with warm lights, yet no people coming in or out. The classic internet trap flashed through your mind—what if there was no Lando Norris waiting for you at all?

“Y/N?”

His voice sounded unsure. He was glued to his phone, shamelessly checking if you actually looked like the pictures he’d been thirsting over on that awful app.

You turned around slowly, mentally cursing yourself, and then your friends. And there he was.

He really screamed Formula One driver. The expensive car gave him away immediately. You had boots on, and he was wearing sneakers, making him not nearly as tall as you expected. You bit your cheek, trying not to laugh at the fact that you were practically the same height.

How were you supposed to act on a date with someone worldwide famous?

Lando leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you instinctively extended your hand for a handshake instead. The night hadn’t even started, and you already wanted the earth to swallow you.

“Shall we?”

He offered his arm, effortlessly charming. Gentleman, innit?

You hesitated before looping your arm through his, still not saying a word. But as you stepped into the restaurant, your stomach dropped.

The place was empty. No other customers. Just you and him.

Your face went pale because there was only one explanation.

He did not…

“Mister Norris!”

A well-dressed waiter greeted him with familiarity. They knew each other. With a simple hand gesture, he led you both to your table. The level of formality made you feel like royalty.

Dim lighting, soft music. A candle flickered in the center of the round table, it had the scent of chocolate, if your nostrils weren’t failing you. The ambiance was undeniably beautiful.

He really outdid himself.

You sat down, eyes narrowing at him. "You did not rent out this whole place just for us."

"Yeah, I did."

Lando chuckled, his smile boyish—like a kid caught red-handed. You playfully shoved his shoulder, you hated surprises and gifts in any format.

Your face burned red, so you instinctively hid behind the menu. Of course, he noticed. He found it adorable.

His foot lightly tapped yours under the table, trying to get your attention. "Are we playing hide and seek now?"

You sighed, setting the menu down just so he could see you roll your eyes. "What are you ordering?" you asked in a hushed tone, like it was some kind of secret, despite the fact that no one else was around.

Your elbows rested on the table as you leaned slightly toward him. He did the same. The tiny candle was the only thing between you.

There was no need for flirtation or innuendos—the tension was already there.

For you two, banter was enough.

————————————————————————

"So, fashion designer, huh?" He asked, cutting his food, trying to throw the conversation toward you.

"So, Formula One driver, huh?" You mocked him, mimicking his tone—because, seriously, that was the most basic question ever. Your background was more than obvious; it was explicitly written on Raya. But you got it—he was just as nervous as you were.

One thing Lando was sure of: you weren’t like his other dates. My god, you were hard to get. An hour in, and there had been no physical contact at all—just chatter, chatter. Not that he was complaining. You were an interesting and undecipherable human being.

"How many girls have you brought here?"

You loved making people uncomfortable with your questions, especially when you already knew the answer—you just wanted to see their reaction. Lando practically choked on his food at your out-of-the-blue assumption.

"W-what?"

It was hilarious how fast he grabbed his water, like he couldn’t believe how unfiltered you were. You repeated the question, and he had no choice but to answer.

"I don’t know… two or three?"

At least he was honest. Or tried to be.

————————————————————————

Dinner happened, to your surprise, quickly—because time moved fast when you were really enjoying yourself, losing track of it completely. Luckily, the Formula One driver caught up with your jokes, knowing exactly how to turn them back on you. Like an Uno reverse card. For you, there was nothing more intimate than teasing each other mutually and just the right amount. Some people couldn’t take a joke, and that was such a turn-off. But Lando simply got you.

Now, you were exiting the glamorous restaurant, shoulders covered by his huge coat. Your laughter was loud, and in just two hours, you had already built inside jokes between the two of you.

"Looking forward to seeing your replacement next Sunday if you catch a cold."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing your pretty face again."

He ended all the joking with a cheeky, flirtatious remark—he knew exactly how to make a girl’s legs weak using nothing but his natural charisma.

"You never shut up, do you?"

And then you did the unthinkable.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him in, your lips merging into one. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, finally releasing all the tension and need that had been weighing on you.

————————————————————————

The car you once eyed as luxurious was now the place where you were making out frenetically. The kissing was obscene, neither of you knew where all that passion came from, but it was addictive.

His firm hands gripped the fabric of your branded clothing, holding your hips in place, not wanting you to make any movement against his lap. It’d be the death of him—he was already suffering a nightmare between his legs.

Your fingers instantly got lost in his curls, tangling and pulling them mid-kiss. Lando’s mouth was practically fighting against yours, turning it into the sloppiest mess. Heaven had never felt this chaotic. You took your time exploring every corner of his mouth with your tongue, while his hands traveled deliberately across your body, wishing there was no fabric separating you two. His fingertips traced you as if you were as fragile as a sculpture, slow and delicate. You melted under his touch, squirming on top of him at the barest touch. It was inoffensive, yet he knew exactly how to caress all the right places.

A shiver ran down your spine as your body suddenly felt colder than seconds ago—a thin breeze brushed against your right thigh. He was sliding up your outfit, eager to go further.

"Easy, driver." A whisper escaped your lips, breathy from all the intense air-exchanging. Your lips brushed against each other, expectant but unmoving. "I know you like adrenaline and fast things, but not tonight."

Fucking on the first date wasn’t your thing, you had at least some dignity. This wasn’t just a hook-up; a few butterflies were already flying around in your stomach, and you despised it.

With half-lidded eyes, he looked up at you, locking gazes. His puppy-blue eyes were now dark with lust. His swollen, glossy lips formed a slight pout. If you kept staring at him—at his pathetic, needy, almost convincing face—you’d be stripping down quicker than lightning.

Trying to put an end to his little show, you placed a hand over his face and shoved him away, cutting off all dangerous eye contact.

"Not tonight gives me a free pass for a second date, according to my understanding." He contradicted you, attempting to sound smart with a cocky grin spread across his face.

"You really are something else, Lando Norris." You did your thing to keep him quiet, preventing any cringey pick-up line from escaping his lips, and restarted the make-out session.

He was relieved that you’d shut him up quickly, because the longer it went on, the more he felt like verbalizing the flying feelings in his stomach.

#f1 #f1 fandom #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #formula one #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #cowboyschumi #cowboyschumi writes #f1 imagine

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benz12313 · 20 hours ago

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🥺👉👈 ridoc who falls head over heels in love with violets twin who is autistic and he's an absolute sweetheart to her, and helps her when she needs something and protects her.

Also their dragons are mated and aotrom is very over protective of her.

I had so much fun writing this. I hope this was written well. As a parent of an autistic child (diagnosed) and as someone who suspects herself and her other child are AuDHD but in the process of getting diagnosed, I really tried to represent this well. I also think in the Fourth Wing universe, at least in Basgaith, many mental differences are shunned or looked down upon, so I went that angle with this fic. Please give me feedback on how I did with this request. I also have some ideas for a part two so let me know if you'd like that! Thank you for your request though! I had a lot of fun working on it. :)

Own Worst Enemy - Ridoc x Sorrengail!Reader

Warnings: violence, death, dragon mate possessive behaviour

Word Count: 4,274

I sat quietly next to Violet, as she interacted with her- our friends. As much as they assured me that I was just as included as her, I’d never really felt that way. I wasn’t like her. I didn’t know what to say, what to do? Always feeling a little bit lost when the group was together, like I was one step behind, too busy analyzing everyone to add my own input into conversations. Sometimes it felt like they only put up with me because I was Violet’s twin, and not nearly as breakable as her.

I was good with schoolwork and okay with challenges, at least good enough to hold my own and take minimal injuries; and my joints are stronger than hers, not popping and breaking under pressure. Perks of being a fraternal twin I guess. Our DNA isn’t identical. No, something else in me feels broken. Something deeper. More substantial. Something I never talked about with anyone, ever.

Violet has asked before, in my moments of weakness, when everything is too much and I can’t hide. But I always am able to reign it back in then, hide it all behind a smile and recite lines I know will appease her worry. After all, the mask I wear protects me, especially growing up in a family where weakness isn’t tolerated. Even Dad, who saw straight through me. He expected me to reign it in too. Taught me in his own ways how to know what to say, how to make people look away, how to breathe when it was too much. Yet he still expected me to conform, to act like everything was okay. Like I wasn’t broken and weak minded.

I was a good actress at least. Everyone just thought I was quiet and reserved. And they never looked too hard at me, letting me fall into the background. I preferred it that way, it was much easier.

Everyone, except Ridoc Gamlyn, of course. He was always right there. In my space, but somehow, I never minded it. Maybe because with Ridoc, it didn’t matter what I said, he just accepted it. When I missed an unwritten social rule, he just smiled and responded, somehow getting what I was trying to say instead of harping on how I said it. He was annoying at times, always a bit loud, but he could say or do whatever he felt like with no reservations, easily breaking through my walls like no other could. Not even my own sister. I was honestly a bit jealous.

Ridoc wouldn’t let me fade either, prodding me to talk with him while the others were occupied in their own conversations. His voice usually quieter in those moments when he was trying to get me to reconnect, asking the oddest questions about whatever I was working on. It worked though, making my mind settle as I answered whatever he’d asked me, the casual back and forth grounding me, easing my anxiety over messing up.

He could see me. Really see me, like nobody ever had. It didn’t take me long to understand though, as I quickly became interested in trying to figure him out. Nobody really saw him either. Seeing what he wanted them to see. The loud, boisterous, sexually overconfident man he let everyone see wasn’t all of him. He didn’t let them see his worry over schoolwork, or over whatever current obstacle we were being thrown as new riders (currently the gauntlet) or his disappointment when a night of fun never became anything more, even if his conquest came back, it was never more than for another round. It was such a carefully crafted act that nobody thought to ask questions, nobody seeing that there was even an act to catch.

Nobody could see. But I could. And he knew I could, giving me a knowing smile in his moments of weakness, but I never knew what to say to make it better. I don’t really think he wanted any sympathy, hence the mask that mirrored my own. He interested me though, so completely different than the others. Even though that’s what he wanted, I could never truly look away. Not when he’d become my biggest source of safety in this death college.

Always pushing me on the mat, giving me pointers on how to improve. Walking with me when I needed a moment, my body feeling restless. Talk about my books, even the smutty ones, maybe especially the smutty ones. He’d grin and let me talk for hours, sitting on his bed in the men’s dormitory as we talked quietly. He’d glare at any of the other men who looked at us too long, daring them to say something. To make one move towards me. None ever did. And he always listened, asking questions that actually made me think, or that would lead me to another tangent.

Ridoc Gamlyn was an enigma I could barely understand, so I too hung around. Maybe it was the same for him. Maybe we were both just trying to figure the other out, never quite getting there. Never quite understanding. But accepting. Always accepting.

“I think, maybe you could bounce back and forth up the chimney. Your joints aren’t as weak as Violet’s so if you get enough speed and momentum…” He trailed off, as he watched me nudge my sausage across my plate. “Y/N?”

I met his warm brown eyes for a moment before my eyes quickly returned to my plate, torturing my sausage again. “I get what you’re saying. It’s worth a try.” It was presentation day, and this was my last try after all. Violet had told me her plan, but it wouldn’t work for me. If both of us pushed the rules like that, then one of us would definitely be disqualified. It was her plan, so I told her I’d already found another way. Lied through my teeth, but she’d let it go so it must’ve been convincing enough.

“C’mon, you’ll make it.” He assured, like there was no possibility I wouldn’t. “After all, my best friend isn’t a weakling.”

The twisting in my gut wasn’t unfamiliar, it happened every time he mentioned us as being friends. Why? I wasn’t quite sure, and it was one of the few things I refused to ruminate on. I refused any negative emotion when it came to Ridoc, too afraid to let anything take hold and then let the emotions push away my only solace in this place.

“Yeah.” I sighed. Then forced a smile as I met his gaze again, holding it this time. “Just want it to be over with.”

He smiled, moving some hair out of my face, the annoying strand of hair that always refused to stay in my crown of braids. “I know you do. And you’re gonna kick ass, and then in two days, we’re gonna get dragons and be certified badasses.” He sent me a big grin and I sighed, looking away to hide the smile blooming on my lips. I speared the sausage on my fork and plopped it in my mouth, finishing my breakfast.

“Yeah, yeah. Can’t get rid of me that easy.” I joked and with a quick glance from the corner of my gaze I saw his smile widen.

“Exactly Sorrengail. You’re stuck with me. Forever.” I laughed, before standing, Ridoc quickly following me. “Besides, I haven’t heard about the end of that dark romance you’ve been reading. It’s just started getting good. And I won’t have the patience to read it myself if you go and die on me.”

“Glad to see I have some use.” I snorted at him, my body relaxing the moment we’d gotten to the hall. The noise of the cafeteria fading the further we got from it. Finally, I could actually hear myself think now.

“Oh don’t be like that! You’re smarter than Violet, and that’s saying something.” He said and I rolled my eyes.

“No, I just watch more than she does. It’s easier to put things together when I don’t have to worry about holding a conversation at the same time.” I countered and he chuckled, pinching my side and making me squirm away. I still giggled against my will though. “Plus the photographic memory helps.” I snorted out another laugh when he poked me again. “Stop that!”

“Okay. Okay.” He relented, giving me a goofy grin and shoving his hands in his pockets. I knew that was the only way he’d be able to not touch me as he tried to honor my wishes. Ridoc never really could seem to keep his hands to himself when he was near me. Especially when he was nervous. “Don’t discount yourself though. You’re brilliant. Own it.”

“Shut it Gamlyn. I’ve got enough to worry about.” I sighed, taking in his expression before bumping his shoulder with my own. “Don’t need to worry about me okay? I won’t die today.”

The anxiety in his eyes faded, replaced with all consuming warmth as I was stuck in his gaze. He opened the door ahead of us, not saying a thing.

Ridoc’s POV

I held the door for her, warmth pulling at me as her gaze never faltered. I believed her, after all, it wasn’t often that she lied to me. In fact, she was usually unabashedly honest with me. A fact I was grateful for. She hid herself from the rest of our friends, her sister, but couldn’t hide from me.

Her brilliant mind fascinated me, she was amazing in her own unique ways. How the others couldn’t see it was beyond me. She was definitely the strongest, and smartest of us. I just wish they could see that, that she could see that, just once. She finally rolled her eyes, moving through the door as her cheeks went pink and my chest swelled with pride.

She was beautiful, in every way, and I'd been hopelessly pining after her since that first night when we’d been assigned to the same squad. When she’d finally met my gaze with those pretty y/e/c eyes of hers, catching me in a trance as she looked through me. Past my confident facade, straight to my core, past all the bullshit I wore like armor. But then she didn’t call me out like most would have, just cocked an eyebrow at me, and looked away. Like it was some secret that she was electing to keep for me.

I’d been practically begging for her attention since, especially after I’d figured out that she was pretending too. That she hid herself, afraid of the inevitable rejection too. But she didn’t play pranks, pretend to be stupid and refuse any feelings too painful to address. No she refused everyone, never letting anybody too close to be able to hurt her. Only letting the rest of our friends close enough to see what she deemed the useful parts of herself, but never close enough for them to really see her. But she let me. And I knew it was because she saw our similarities.

I was broken from my thoughts when we made it to the gauntlet, and fear seized my heart. As quickly as it’d taken over, it was gone because Y/N shoved my shoulder with hers again, sending me a bright smile.

“We’ve got this Ridoc.” It was simple, yet wholly convincing.

“We’ve got this.” I repeated, squeezing my hands into fists in my pockets to keep them still. To keep them from pulling her into my arms, and never letting go.

Y/N’s POV

I made it. I fucking made it! Shock seized me as Ridoc’s bellows rang in my ears, not quite hearing it even though his words echoed through me. His arms were wrapped tightly around me, spinning me around as he held me in a bone crushing grip. He set me back on the ground but didn’t let go, burying his head in my shoulder.

“You made it.” He whispered, and I nodded, tears pricking in the corner of my eyes as emotion flooded through me. Everything was suddenly too much as I hid my face in his chest. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

“I made it.” I whispered back, squeezing him from where my arms were wrapped around his neck.

We made it through presentation as well. Though several of the less savory of our squad couldn’t say the same for themselves. None of the dragons really stood out to me, a hollow feeling in my chest as I walked off the flight field. I won’t be chosen. I knew none of those dragons would choose me, deep in my soul. I didn’t say anything though, not until I was sitting criss-cross with my back leaning on his pillows and headboard as I watched him sharpening his sword, talking about needing to be ready for threshing.

“Did you-“ I paused when he quieted and glanced up at me, “Did you feel any of their approval?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“The dragons?” He asked, putting down the stone in his hand and setting the sword to the side. Damn him, he must’ve noticed my shift in mood, deciding to focus on me completely now. I nodded. He thought a moment, his face shifting into contemplation, a look I couldn’t help but find so handsome. “Not really. There was those greens that crowded your sister. But I was terrified of them. Maybe that brown one, towards the end, that was annoying the others? Rolling all around them. He was funny. But I don’t know, none of them really jumped out at me.”

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off that brown. I remember following behind him, watching him as he had softly chuckled at the dragons antics. For him to have brought it up again…maybe he was just lying to me, or himself, but he’d definitely had a connection to that dragon. My heart dropped.

He must’ve seen it too because he sighed, before crawling over and wrapping his arms around me as he pulled me into his side, and I leaned my head on his chest. “You are gonna get a dragon tomorrow. I just know it. Maybe your dragon just isn’t sure about you yet.”

“Comforting.” I snorted, voice devoid of emotion.

“Look, I know I haven’t convinced you, and you’ll be thinking some awful things about yourself now.” He paused, sighing and looking unsure of himself as he tried to find the right words to soothe me. Failing, but he’s cute, trying like that. “Just trust that I know, more than I’ve known anything that you will get a dragon tomorrow. If any of us deserves one, it’s you.”

The raw honesty in his voice made my heart race, and despite myself, his words gave me an inkling of hope. Hope that he was right. That there really was a dragon out there who could accept me, despite my shortcomings. Hope that a dragon would find me worthy.

“Thanks Ridoc.” I mumbled, and hoped that he’d hold me just a little longer as I worked to pull myself back together.

He did.

Ridoc’s POV

I wandered the woods, my mind occupied with Y/N and her show of weakness last night. She never let the facade fall that completely before, she was scared. More scared than she’d been for the gauntlet. Afraid a dragon wouldn’t want her. I frowned as I hid behind a tree as a red passed by. I knew that one wasn’t mine, but luckily it either hadn’t noticed me or decided to spare me instead.

I’d felt a tug all afternoon as I wandered the forest, coaxing me further and further inwards, where I knew that brown was waiting. I’d meant what I said last night, it’d only been once I’d left my friends that I felt the tug. But Y/N had caught what I hadn’t last night, in that way that only she does, already knowing the brown had intended on choosing me.

I finally started moving again, lost thinking about Y/N. Too lost to notice the forest shifting in front of me, until a deep male voice rang through my head, ‘Oh come on! You didn’t even notice me!”

I jumped back two feet, suddenly seeing two large golden eyes staring at me from a large brown swordtail that was hanging from a particularly large tree. A tree that still looked like it was about to buckle under the weight of him.

“S-sorry.” I stuttered out.

The brown jumped from the tree, landing on the ground and sending me staggering from the shockwaves. ‘I suppose I’ll forgive you. Only cause you’re so worried about her. Call me Aotrom, I’ll give you my full name later. You’re mine now.’ He sniffed at me as he circled me, before settling in front of me again, looking proud of himself.

“You mean Sorrengail? Y/N?” I specified, remembering Violet was out here too.

The dragon made a sound, that sounded suspiciously like a snort. ‘Who else? Your mate of course.’

My body froze as my mouth fell open in shock. “She’s not! We’re not-“ I shook my head. “She’s my friend.”

He tilted his head, looking confused. ‘Oh? I thought…’ He sounded confused too, thinking, before his face lit up again, tail wagging back and forth. ‘I see! Eve did say she thought you two hadn’t acted on it yet when I shared my memories with her. I guess she’s right!’

My mind was swimming. This-my dragon, Aotrom, was unlike any other dragon we’d learned about. That was for sure. And he thought me and Y/N were mates??? “Who’s Eve?” I finally let the words out and the dragon puffed his chest out as he straightened with obvious pride.

‘My mate of course.’

Y/N POV

I kept a hand over my mouth as an orange slinked by, sniffing the air. I willed my traitorous heart to slow, afraid that the nasty looking dragon would hear my heartbeats and try to eat me. Eventually he slinked out of view, and I let out a small breath as I continued on my way.

I still felt that hollowness. No pull anywhere as I wandered around aimlessly. I’d run into a dozen different dragons now, and felt nothing from any of them.

I silently wondered if Ridoc had found that brown swordtail. I wondered if Rhi and Violet had found theirs too. If Sawyer would finally get his own. If I would be forced to repeat the year as well, and start over next year.

I paused when I heard a rustling in the bushes, but before I could hide, one of the other cadets strode out. It was one that hung by Barlow, not in his inner circle but itching to move his way in and appease the cruel man. He was tall and fit, definitely a foot taller than me. I palmed my daggers as he stared at me, cruel grin forming as he looked me up and down.

“The quiet Sorrengail twin.” He hissed and I glared.

“Won’t earn you any points with Barlow killing me.” By sheer will my voice was strong.

“Oh, but it will weaken her, and Barlow will approve of that if he hasn’t killed her by the end of the day.” My heart raced at his words as I steeled myself for the fight ahead of me. He wasn’t backing down now.

He ran four steps raising his sword and was about to swing when air rushed around me, and then suddenly he was lifted off the ground, a giant scorpion tail sticking out his back and through his chest. With a flick of the tail his body flew behind me.

But I was frozen in fear. Standing in front of me was a dragon, with navy blue scales and bright green eyes narrowed on me, assessing. Waiting for what my response would be. It’s tail moved slowly now, curling around its body, which gave me some hope that this dragon didn’t plan on killing me. Yet at least.

“Thank you.” I whispered, lowering my gaze as my thoughts went wild. There weren’t supposed to be any blues out here today.

‘I came because my mate wished to take a rider, that’s all.’ Her voice was majestic, beautiful and commanding, filling my head and making my eyes snap back to hers. She was talking to me…but that meant… ‘Yes, Strategist, I agree with my mate’s assessment. You are worthy of being mine, despite your worries. He may have been selfish, having chosen his own already, but he had assured me that you would do me proud young warrior. Now, climb on, before I change my mind.’

She chuffed out a puff of air in my face and I chose not to argue and climb atop the small blue dragon. She wasn’t the smallest of the ones we’d seen during presentation, but she definitely wasn’t the largest, I noted as I climbed on top of her.

She grumbled. ‘I am only 21!’ She hissed out the words irritated with my…thoughts. Great she can read my mind. ‘I will grow with time! I’ll be bigger than Aunt Sgaeyl even! Just you watch!’

So don’t mention her size. Noted. Wait, Sgaeyl? Riorson’s dragon???

‘My name is Eventhasil, but you may refer to me as Eve.” Then she was launching into the air not a second after I had thoroughly settled into the seat, ignoring my mental question of her lineage. I gripped her tightly with my thighs, hanging on for dear life. Once she leveled out, not jostling me at all anymore, I was able to actually enjoy the wind flowing through my hair. Joy flooded me and tears welled up again. I was actually chosen.

‘That is a habit we will have to kill with prejudice. Your doubt in yourself is sickening.’ Though her words were harsh, I think that was supposed to be encouraging.

‘What about your mate?’ I asked, changing the subject. ‘What’s he like? Who has he chosen?’ It would be nice to know exactly which cadet I’m now tied to for the rest of my life.

‘He approaches.’ She says simply, her voice going quiet as she speeds up, forcing me to hold tighter as a brown tried to catch up. Were they…racing? ‘Yes, and if Aotrom wins he’ll be insufferable. Hold tight.’ Determination laced her tone as she tightened her movements racing towards the flight field at top speed, easily outflying the brown as she flung her wings out at the last minute, landing quickly. I was nearly flung from my seat with the maneuver, but with luck and my muscles locking, I was able to hold on. The brown landed thirty seconds later, towering over Eve as he snapped at her face playfully. She snapped back at him, narrowly missing his neck as her tail swung behind us.

But then another dragon landed on her other side and the brown lurched forward, growling low in his throat as he eyed the other male, his swordtail curling around Eve protectively.

She, however, sat calmly amidst his display of possessiveness. Almost…bored?

‘Overpossessive male.’ She explained, irritation lacing her tone. ‘Male dragons are known to be volatile towards any potential threats in the first few years of establishing a mate bond. And Aotrom is very…determined to keep me as his.’ An obvious affection was laced in her last words. The other male backed away, submitting to Aotrom’s dominance and claim, eyes and head down as he moved out of range. Only when the male had moved a sufficient distance away and Aotrom relaxed, turning to his mate again did I see his rider. Ridoc. Holy shit! Ridoc!

Happiness bubbled within me. There was no one better to be tied to! Holy shit. And he looked unharmed, thank the gods.

‘Go speak with him.’ Eve somehow sounded…teasing? ‘He’s relieved that Aotrom had told the truth when he told him that you were safe. As if I’d ever let harm come to what’s mine.’ She snorted at the last sentence and I laughed.

‘I’m glad he’s okay too.’ I sent her way as I climbed down.

The moment my feet hit the ground they lifted again, as Ridoc’s arms wrapped around me and swung me around. “We both got dragons! We’re both riders!” His voice was full of joy as he put me on my feet again. “We made it Y/N! We made it!” His hands moved to my cheeks, and I was frozen as euphoria took over his gaze, and then in a split second, his mouth was on mine.

Moving, kissing, me. I slowly moved back holding onto the moment as my heart burst. My crush was kissing me. Tongue slipping into my mouth as he pulled me to him, pine and male and Ridoc taking over my senses completely as I lost myself in him.

This moment was perfection.

And then it was ruined, by Sawyer calling our names, obviously not able to really see us yet. Ridoc jumped back, looking panicked and my heart lurched. Did he not mean to do that? His eyes scanned mine as he backed up.

“Talk later?” He asked, and I froze. He froze too, hands hovering over my waist. “Y/N? Talk later yeah?”

I nodded, words catching in my throat as Eve growled in my mind. But she said nothing.

“Yeah.” I whispered, putting on a smile as our friend greeted us.

~ I'm taking requests as well, just submit them to my inbox and I'll get to them when I have time.

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@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie @jobroho @worldsanna @uneducatedraccoon @nicksolemnlyswears @binksbrewcrew

#fanfic #ridoc x reader #fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn #iron flame #onyx storm #ridoc fourth wing #ridoc and aotrom #ridoc #aotrom #ridoc gamlyn x reader #sorrengail reader

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blood-smiles · 2 days ago

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PRAYING for more yandere angel crumbs 🙏🙏🙏 Also ur art and writing style is so gorgeous im tweaking

I’ll answer your prayer nonnie 🪽🪽🪽🪽 I’m the lord and I work in mysterious ways.. THANK YEW I am always so insecure about my work being at least fathomable to read and look at without getting an “..Oh! “ moment from people 💔💔

NAUGHTY HEADCANNONS UNDERNEATH THE CUT!!

• Okay so I think I need to get this out of the way, Angels in my book are genderfluid, or just don’t really care for genders since it’s not really needed in Divinia(My version of heaven). They have the freedom to shape their body to their will, that includes gender and sexual organs. Lucien prefers his male counterpart over his female one when it comes to just pleasure. However, for breeding purposes he is required to at least change the sexual organs on the inside of his body, meaning prostate into Uterus.

•This leads to my next point, He can in fact get pregnant. However he is not going to give human birth, he is going to have his own process of birth as many angels do too. They lay eggs. 😊

•Now I really wanted to talk about his behavior while he is waiting for the eggs to hatch, he will dutifully make a little nest with your clothes and pillows, then settle there until he can push the batch out.

•if you read the first part, you can probably tell he is eager to lay his first batch of eggs, but now you may wonder what is inside of them?? Great question!!! Nephillims and a chance of flying eyeballs with wings.

•angels don’t really care or find attachment to their offspring, most of the time their children will wander off to somewhere idk, so you can be an irresponsible parent!!!

•He is not very pleasant during this period of time when he is pumped full of babies. He isn’t hostile towards you per se, he is hostile towards anyone else BUT YOU. Even pets!! If your dog wants to greet him and sniff his eggs, he will be livid. He will swat at the dog and hiss for it to get away. Call it protective motherly instincts..?

•NEVER bring people to the house during this time, he will be even more violent than towards animals. if anyone finds him in the corner of your room, say goodbye to that friend because they probably aren’t going to be seen ever again.

•Mating process!!!!!!! Put him in a mating press just DO IT. Believe me that you will not regret it, like I bet you will be hypnotized by the melodic mewls coming out of his mouth. If bending him over doggystyle, GRAB HIS HAIR, PULL ON IT PLEASE.

•Your gender doesn’t really matter during mating with him. Angels work in mysterious ways to accommodate your body’s anatomy.

•The little wings on the sides of his head and on his hips will twitch helplessly, contracting and retracting when reaching an orgasm. It’s actually so interesting to see.

•Pee in him. Don’t ask why.

•There are times where he will spread his lips open when changing his organs to female aligned ones, he will stretch himself open, letting you see INSIDE him, how his cervix and walls twitch and flex in sheer need of being filled. And if you look up at his face you will find the most adoration filled look you have ever seen, this isn’t just sex for him, it’s a bonding ritual with the love of his life.

•Okay, now moving onto more SFW headcannons, He is an alright cook, although he can improve very quickly. He does make some feet kicking tea though, his brownies and cookies slap so hard too, it’s like those cookies your grandma made.

•He is very well acquainted with the elderly, he enjoys speaking to them and finds familiarity and understanding amongst them. He is older than the earth so he is an old soul, naturally he would be a charmer with the grandmas too.

•softest feathers, like rest your face on the large set of wings on his back and you might ascend to another plane of existence. He will laugh at your blissed out face and kiss the tip of your nose while wrapping the wings on his hips around you.

•his boobs and hair bounce when he walks. :)

#yandere x reader #smilesyanderes #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #gn reader #fem reader #gender neutral reader #yandere male #smilesanswers #yandere x darling #yandere blog #soft yandere #lucienposting

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samwontshare · 1 day ago

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I haven’t seen BNW yet so I can only comment on the Sambucky scene since yall recorded that and put it everywhere. 😅

I really like the character growth here.

It started for Sam in TFATWS - we see him working alone on the boat’s engine. At the end, he allows Bucky to help him. He didn’t invite Bucky- Sam Wilson asking for help? Outside of running a smooth op? Hah! - but Bucky invited himself over and was welcomed by Sam. But even this moment was silent. Sam only confided in Sarah in TFATWS, and even that seemed difficult for him.

So I am happy to see that for some reason running for Congress Bucky probably drops absolutely everything the moment he sees the news because 1) his man looks hot and he has to tell him that immediately and 2) Joaquin took a hit and he knows he has to be with them. I like that we see Bucky proactively showing up for Sam, which was a problem Bucky had in TFATWS. And this brings me joy as a Bucky fan, because this is TFA Bucky. This is Bucky Barnes, who loves his people fully and openly and would die for them in a heartbeat. Bucky is a mother hen at heart, and this is a return to that. Anyone who wants to see Bucky healing should be happy here.

Sam telling whoever entered the room to politely fuck off gave me his Civil War ‘tude with T’Challa. I appreciate “so over the bullshit” Sam. And Sam, my beloved, just looks so reluctantly relieved Bucky is there. Like he’s trying not to smile that his man showed up for him. And Sam TALKS ABOUT HIS INSECURITIES. He has self doubt and he talks about it! He lets Bucky give him a pep talk. We were all pulling our hair out in TFATWS because they seemed allergic to showing us Sam’s internal world.

And kudos to Bucky for seeing that it has nothing to do with wanting superpowers, it’s about Sam’s desire to protect others, especially his partner. This moment is such a callback to Riley, an event that shook Sam so badly he left the service. It’s nice to see Sam not shouldering grief alone. I can’t wait to see Sam and Joaquin talk about what happened bc that’s where I think there will be some more full circle character development for Sam. (Sorry I am blabbing about this without the full context.)

Bucky expressing curiosity about Sam’s doubt and encouraging him to continue when you could see Sam was hesitating to be vulnerable was a really nice touch. Sam is given the space without judgment to process. “Say what you need to say.” Okay, sir, you know that talk continues in the bedroom.

I just want to see Sam getting that emotional TLC all the time. That little head nod when Bucky tells him he loves him? Precious.

You love to see it.

#sambucky #brave new world spoilers

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00valentina-writes00 · 2 days ago

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hey omg I love the way u write Sevika and vi sm, idk if you've done one or if you would be alright doing one, I looked and I didn't see one, but could you maybe do sevika or vi and reader with an active restrictive ed? if not I understand !

♡♥︎Sevika and Vi with a girl that has an Restrictive ED♥︎♡

♡Sevika♡

♥︎ Sevika is intensely protective, but she hides it behind her usual blunt demeanor. She’s the type to keep a close eye on you without being overly obvious. She doesn’t talk much about it, but she notices the little things—like the way you avoid certain foods or how you seem to get tired after barely eating.

♥︎ When she first realized what was going on, it wasn’t through any conversation. It was through the subtle shifts: you being extra careful when talking about food, your discomfort with eating around her, and the bruises on your body from low energy. Sevika didn’t need anyone to tell her what was happening—she could read you too well.

♥︎ She won’t push you to talk about it until you’re ready. If you do talk about it, she listens with this quiet intensity, offering no judgment. Her expression is stoic, but there’s a kind of softness in her eyes, like she’s trying to process everything without making you feel weak.

♥︎ Sevika’s the type to watch over you when you’re eating, making sure you actually do. If you try to avoid food, she’ll quietly set it in front of you again, no words, just a look. She won’t let you skip meals, even if she has to put a hand on your shoulder to keep you grounded.

♥︎ The fact that you’re avoiding food only adds to her frustration and helplessness. She can’t fix it by brute force, and that makes her feel powerless. But she never shows it. She’ll just keep making sure there’s always food nearby and you’re taken care of, no matter how many times you try to push her away.

♥︎ There’s a part of her that feels responsible, like if she were stronger, maybe you’d feel safer, more secure. She knows that’s not true, but it still nags at her. Sometimes she’ll hold you at night and remind you, in her own way, that you don’t need to do this alone.

♥︎ When she notices you’re not eating enough, her usual sharp tone softens, and she’ll ask, “You sure you’re good?” in a way that feels like a command, but it’s also her way of trying to break through.

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t always have the words to help, but she has actions. She makes sure you have things that bring you comfort: a warm drink, a favorite snack, blankets, or her presence when you need it. It’s not much, but it’s something.

♥︎ If you try to go too long without eating, she’ll get serious, her usual intimidating presence sharpening. “You’re eating, or I’ll make you.” It’s not a threat, it’s a promise. She’s not afraid to hold you accountable in a way that’ll make you feel both loved and safe.

♥︎ On the rare occasions when you try to hide away from her, she’ll show up anyway—silent but there. Sevika knows how to break down walls without needing to raise her voice. She’ll sit across from you, keeping the space calm, waiting for you to open up.

♥︎ Sevika’s trust in you is immense, but she also knows your limits. She never asks you to be “fixed” or to heal instantly. Instead, she takes a steady approach, allowing you space while always showing you that she’s there when you need her.

♥︎ She won’t let you feel guilty for not being perfect, and she makes sure you know that you’re not defined by what you eat or how much you eat. “I’m not going anywhere,” she’ll say, and you’ll know she means it, even if she doesn’t always show it.

♥︎ Her idea of support often involves subtle things—like taking care of you when you’re too tired to, but doing it in a way that doesn’t make you feel like a burden. She knows how to read your body language, and if you need a break, she’ll insist on it with a sharpness that’s still laced with care.

♥︎ When you’re struggling with yourself, Sevika doesn’t offer false reassurances. Instead, she’ll say, “I’ll be here. But you’ve got to fight for yourself, too.” She respects your autonomy, but also makes it clear that she’s not letting you slip through the cracks.

♥︎ She takes her role as protector seriously, but she’s not the type to impose rules or restrictions. If you want help, she’s there. If you need space, she respects it. Sevika knows that some battles can’t be fought with force.

♥︎ Sevika doesn’t demand you get better, but she does demand that you don’t give up. She’ll tell you, “You’re worth it,” in the quietest moments when you need it most, and in those moments, it feels like a quiet warcry that she’ll stand beside you through anything.

♥︎ If you get sick or weak from not eating, Sevika takes action. She’ll refuse to let you hide it, won’t let you ignore it. “You think I don’t notice?” she’ll growl with concern hidden beneath her irritation. She’ll push through the coldness, demanding you take care of yourself.

♥︎ Sometimes, she’ll silently make you a meal, knowing you’ll push back, but she’ll leave it there. If you don’t eat it, it’s okay. But when you do, it feels like a silent victory that she quietly celebrates.

♥︎ She doesn’t need to say it out loud, but Sevika will show you in every gesture that you’re enough, no matter what.

♡Vi♡

♥︎ Vi’s the type of person who won’t notice right away, but once she does, it hits her like a ton of bricks. She’s always been the kind of person to focus on action, but when it comes to you, her instincts kick in, and she starts noticing every little change—the way you avoid food, how you get quieter, and how you push yourself harder than usual.

♥︎ When she first realizes what’s going on, it’s not through a direct confrontation. It’s the way you keep pulling away when food is brought up, the exhaustion on your face that doesn’t seem to fade, no matter how much you sleep. She’ll know something’s wrong, and it’ll tear her up inside.

♥︎ Vi’s protective nature goes into overdrive, but in her usual way, she tries not to smother you with concern. If she sees you avoiding food, she’ll offer a small, knowing “You good?” and leave it at that. She won’t push you too hard, but her eyes never leave you until she’s sure you’re alright.

♥︎ The first time you try to skip a meal, she won’t let you get away with it. She’ll put a hand on your shoulder, her grip firm but gentle. “You’re not gonna pull that with me, sweetheart,” she’ll say, her voice a low growl. You won’t be able to lie to her, even if you try to make excuses.

♥︎ Vi doesn’t have much patience for pretending everything’s fine. If you’re struggling, she wants you to be real about it. She’ll sit with you while you eat, even if it’s just a snack, and talk about anything and everything to keep you distracted. She’ll make it a point to show you that food doesn’t have to be a battle

♥︎ She might not always get why you’re doing it, but she understands what it feels like to fight against yourself. Vi’s seen her own demons, and she won’t let you face yours alone, even if she doesn’t always know how to help. “I’ve got your back, no matter what,” she’ll remind you, and you’ll feel the weight of her words.

♥︎ There’s a certain tenderness in the way Vi will catch you when you get too quiet, too withdrawn. Her large, strong hands will gently hold your face, looking at you with this intensity that says, “Don’t hide from me.” She’s not going to let you fall without at least trying to catch you first.

♥︎ She won’t make you feel weak or ashamed. If you can’t eat, she’ll simply pull you closer, a steady presence in your life, reminding you that you’re loved no matter what. Vi’s biggest strength is that she makes you feel like you matter, like you’re worth taking care of.

♥︎ If you push her away or try to keep your struggles to yourself, Vi’s never afraid to challenge you. “I know you’re tough, but you’re not a damn robot,” she’ll say, her voice soft but firm. She doesn’t want you to feel like you have to do everything on your own, even if it’s hard to accept help.

♥︎ Vi might be rough around the edges, but when it comes to you, she knows how to be gentle. She’ll show up with food and a soft smile, asking, “Wanna eat with me, or should I just keep you company while you pick at your plate?” It’s her way of saying she’s not going anywhere, even when things are tough.

♥︎ When you finally do eat, it’s like a small victory to her. She’ll notice every little bit you put in your mouth, and when you take that first bite, she’ll praise you quietly, “Good job, babe. Proud of you.” Her words might be simple, but they’re full of care, making you feel like you’re on the right path.

♥︎ Vi doesn’t push for big, dramatic moments. She knows the small things matter the most. If you’re struggling, she’ll hold you close, remind you of your strength, and kiss your forehead like she’s trying to pass on some of her own fire to you.

♥︎ She gets frustrated when you don’t take care of yourself, but it’s not because she’s angry with you—it’s because she hates seeing you suffer. “You’re too important to be doing this to yourself,” she’ll mutter, frustration laced with concern. But underneath it all, you’ll feel the love that drives her to want to protect you.

♥︎ There are days when you’ll feel like you’re failing, but Vi won’t let you give up on yourself. She won’t sugarcoat things—she’s not one for false reassurances—but she’ll always remind you, “You’ve got a fight in you. Don’t lose that.”

♥︎ When it gets hard, Vi will let you lean on her. Her arms will be there to hold you, her chest to rest your head against. She won’t ask you to talk if you don’t want to, but she’ll always let you know she’s there, standing by your side, ready to support you in the way that you need.

♥︎ Vi’s the kind of person who won’t let you fade into the background. If you try to isolate yourself, she’s right there, pulling you back. She’ll remind you that you don’t have to do this alone. And even if you don’t feel like it, you’ll start to believe that you’re worth the fight.

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bwat5-blog · 2 days ago

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The Price Of Mercy, And The Weight Of Guilt: Caitlyn Kiramman

**SPOILERS FOR ARCANE**

How Do We Get Here:

Twenty-three year old Caitlyn Kiramman stands in the dark ruins of a Zaunite cannery. In the last few days, she has been beaten, shot at, blown up, abducted nude from her childhood home, and terrorized. Jinx, the person responsible, stands across from Caitlyn at gunpoint:

Jinx moves Caitlyn fires Vi shouts to stop and Caitlyn does, ordering Jinx to drop the gun Caitlyn raises the gun when Jinx doesn't comply and Vi begs- "Wait! She's my sister" Caitlyn keeping the gun on Jinx responds- "Vi, she's too far gone" Jinx lowers the gun. Caitlyn looks to Vi who begs- "no no no" Caitlyn still doesn't shoot. Jinx takes advantage of her indecision and attacks, seizing the weapon and brutally knocking Caitlyn unconscious.

And when Caitlyn is back on her feet, what is the cost of her mercy?

The death of her mother

The deaths of two other councilors

The maiming of two more (one paralyzed from the waist down)

The destruction of the council chamber

The memorial attack- You and I know Jinx wasn't involved but I stand by what I've always said, there's no way they don't think Jinx played some role after what she did

The unavoidable Piltovan response for what Jinx did coming down on Zaun

And we also must consider the crimes Jinx had committed up to that point that Caitlyn as someone who wanted to protect people would be considering as well:

She knows Jinx played a part in Silco's Shimmer operations

She survives Jinx's theft of the stone in which six enforcers were killed by Jinx using a fake childs voice, lighting a building on fire and blowing it up

She survives Jinx's attack on the bridge in which the admittedly corrupt Markus and several Enforcers were killed

Jinx infiltrates Caitlyn's childhood home and takes her while she is naked in her bathroom. She dresses her in her Enforcer clothes and takes her to Zaun. Recent sources from the Artbook seem to confirm she was held for a whole day. And there is some evidence to suggest Jinx tortured her although that is much more speculative

In The Aftermath:

It is with that in mind we can begin to discuss the subject of Caitlyn's guilt and how it impacts her story in season two. Now obviously, the immense trauma of all of those events I listed has a massive impact on Caitlyn, and we have to keep some things in mind regarding all of that:

She is an adult yes, but she is still quite young. Only twenty-three when all of that down and still only twenty-four by the end of the show She essentially has zero time to process/grieve/recover. There is clearly some degree of a time skip between the beginning of S2 E1 and the end, as statues had to be built, and we see progression in Salo and Shoola's healing in particular. But it really doesn't seem like very long. And it's hardly like she was resting. She is providing testimony on what she saw and went through, and taking over the leadership of her family. Despite the astounding felonious stupidity needed to arrive at such an idea, no. Caitlyn's wealth and privilege growing up did not somehow give her an emotional resilience to pain and death. In fact it makes it harder for her in this moment because she had never experienced such things. You cannot be used to a pain you have never felt. This is not complicated. Caitlyn's faith and belief in the system she always believed in has been completely destroyed:

That Caitlyn truly believed the Enforcers were a force for good before all of this is not debatable by anyone discussing this show in good faith. There is plenty of proof supporting this that I don't feel the need to go and pull right now. For any of you "she should have known" folks- Nope. She'd quite literally never been to the Undercity. And we see how the Enforcers behave when Topside repeatedly. No masks, smiling, waving, happy and cheerful. Caitlyn quite literally had lessons from the Sheriff herself on shooting, who spoke to her about protecting their people. We see her belief being chipped away little by little during her meeting Vi and Ekko both. They both make allegations against the Enforcers and logically and reasonably Caitlyn would have no reason to believe but after some resistance she is quiet and listens, processing. This all culminates on the bridge. Markus, who has not been nice to Caitlyn but is still the leader of The Enforcers confronts her and Ekko. She puts her trust in Markus, telling him they have prove and insisting Ekko show him. And then it all comes violently apart as Markus shoots Ekko, and the enforcers with him do nothing when he prepares to shoot Caitlyn.

SUMMARY: In a very short amount of time Caitlyn has her entire reality violently ripped away by the destruction of 4 fundamental parts of her foundation:

Security- Jinx violating the sanctity and safety of her childhood home by taking her at her most vulnerable

Stability- Her mother is violently taken from her leaving a massive hole emotionally and in society that she is expected to fill

Innocence- She is exposed to a tremendous amount of violence she is completely unprepared for

Faith- the system of law and order she dedicated herself to and believes in is ripped away from her and almost kills her

And she has no time to deal with any of it before the violence continues. No time to heal, to grieve, to rest. Ambessa orchestrates the attack on the memorial and we are off to the races. But first, we need to discuss my entire point with this, the impact of Caitlyn's guilt.

Obviously, Caitlyn does blame Jinx. I'm not going to bother with examples because they are beyond obvious. She also hates and is legitimately terrified of Jinx as well which is beyond expected given all that has happened. But I think what is even more damaging for Caitlyn is that she blames herself. We see this reflected in many ways:

1. The last lines of "I can't hear it now" as I pointed out yesterday:

"I watched the door close for good Cause I couldn't keep it open"

Like I and several others have pointed out, these songs take us into the minds of the characters with their words and tell us important parts of the story (HINT HINT to all of you who complain about missing detail then proudly proclaim how you skip the songs)

This song takes us into Caitlyn's mind in the aftermath of her mother's death. All of the lyrics speak to her characterization in an important way but this topic look at those last two lines. This is essentially her goodbye to her mother, and she doesn't swear revenge. She doesn't proclaim her love. She blames herself.

She had to say goodbye to her mother, because she failed to keep her safe when she could have...

2. Talking with her dad

This one is much more obvious of course. But we get this very sad scene of Caitlyn talking with her father in S2 E1 after the intro song.

Caitlyn is sitting on a couch reading letters of condolence when her father sits next to her, clearly disheveled and not doing well. They are sitting quietly for a bit before Caitlyn tells her father "I had the shot", staring at the floor with glassy tear filled eyes. Her father doesn't say anything in response, just closes his eyes and accepts. Then when he gives her the Kiramman key, she says "I don't deserve it".

3. Talking with Vi

Her conversation with Tobias leads directly into this one. She and Vi share a touching embrace and Vi apologizes to Caitlyn, admitting Powder is gone and insisting if Jayce will fix the gauntlets Vi can take care of this herself with no one else being hurt. But Caitlyn refuses:

"No... No more rogue missions. No more reckless plans. My mother was right. My arrogance led me to take on more than I could handle, and she paid the price".

Again very plain and to the point. With all that has happened and all the factors that played into this situation, she is holding herself responsible.

She failed her mother...

She could have stopped Jinx and didn't...

She doesn't deserve the legacy of her family...

Her mother died because of Caitlyn's arrogance...

SUMMARY: So again sorry to sound like a broken record but I feel like I'm rambling a bit so this helps me to!

Caitlyn has lost her entire foundation for how she views the world in a rapid and extremely violent manner

Her arrogance lead to her mothers death and even given the chance to stop it she still failed her (she believes)

She doesn't deserve the role of leading House Kiramman but has no choice (she believes)

Not related to this (at this point) but its worth mentioning for consideration into her emotional state. Obviously, her relationship with Vi and by extension Vi being Jinx's sister DRAMATICALLY complicates Caitlyn's feeling in all of this

Losing Herself:

** Note it should be obvious moving forward Caitlyn would consider "If I'd stopped Jinx there wouldn't be a memorial because my mom wouldn't be dead" type of scenarios. You get the point. So I'm not gonna mention that kind of thing every time just new stuff**

So we know the memorial attack was orchestrated by Ambessa to exacerbate the conflict between the cities, in hopes of weaponizing Hex-Tech. But specifically we are looking for how this continues to show Caitlyn's guilt is impacting her.

In the aftermath of the attack, Caitlyn is understandable extremely angry and upset. She and Vi are talking and Vi tells her "You have to find a way to call off the invasion" regarding the Council's plan to send a full Enforcer invasion into Zaun to hunt Jinx. Caitlyn angrily says she has no idea how and she has no idea how to fill the hole left by her mother. She and Vi talk and comfort one another, and Caitlyn forms the idea for the small task force, with Vi agreeing to put on the badge to be with her and assist.

Remember:

Caitlyn partially blames herself for this entire mess to begin with

She doesn't feel she deserves to lead her family. To be who her mother was. because she failed her.

The woman she loves tells her SHE has to figure this out. And in Vi's defense she is not blaming or trying to make things harder for Caitlyn. Caitlyn has the status and the family name and all and is realistically their best chance at finding another way. Let's take a look at some other lyrics from I can't hear it now-

"Just tell me how to keep breathing while pretending I'm not drowning"

So Caitlyn turns to what was left behind by her mother. She discovers The Grey. And rather than a massive invasion of heavily armed Enforcers who won't care a lick for Zaunite lives, Caitlyn proposes her plan. A small, targeted team of people, hunting specific targets that are a danger to Zaun and Piltover alike. Using something that will prevent as much bloodshed as possible.

Because it isn't that it DOESN"T matter that she is shoving down her trauma trying to be what's expected of her, that using The Grey in this way is a perversion of her mother's work for Zaun, or that the woman she loves is wearing the badge of her parents killers to stay by her side. Its that it CAN'T matter.

Caitlyn had the shot

Caitlyn failed her mother

Caitlyn has to fix this

**SIDE NOTE BEFORE WE CONTINUE: No. Caitlyn did not make Vi become an Enforcer and I have zero clue where some of you are getting that. What I mean when I say it can't matter to Caitlyn in this state is that I think it's something that when she has had time to heal, and reflect, and just be for a bit, it will be something she wishes she hadn't done. She loves Vi deeply, and asking her to put on that badge and hunt her little sister isn't something Caitlyn would ever do under normal circumstances. And as a steadfast Vi fan, hear me now:

"VI CHOSE TO PUT ON THAT BADGE"

Anyway back to Caitlyn-

Losing Herself- HELLFIRE:

We know what happens from here. Caitlyn gives in more and more to her darker angels in the name of their mission. In the name of justice and making things right to protect people she becomes more violent and angry, to the point that Vi is so afraid of how she is changing we see their first kiss. Once again all we need to do for clarity here is to look into the lyrics that take us into Caitlyn's head:

"Can I do the right thing for the wrong reason? Is it bad that I'm making friends with my demons" (Hellfire)

It almost feels silly analyzing this because it is quite plain. But the amount of people just straight up making things up about Caitlyn's mindset during this time make it worth discussion.

The Strike Team's Objectives:

Dismantle Shimmer: Horrifying drug that turns addicts into monsters if it doesn't kill them first

Neutralize agents still loyal to Silco: Chem-Barons. Dangerous drug lords ripping Zaun apart for their own gain

Find Jinx: We have recapped her crimes enough. You get it.

Clearly these are all good things on their own, and resolving these threats to safety helps Zaun and Piltover. But Caitlyn and her team aren't riding in on white horses to save the day. Caitlyn is losing herself more and more to all of this mounting trauma that is slowly overwhelming her. But she can't stop. She has to fix this.

She had the shot...

Her arrogance killed her mother...

She doesn't deserve to lead her family...

If she'd stopped Jinx there wouldn't have been an attack so even the fact that they are down here at all is Caitlyn's fault as well...

This is her fault...

Caitlyn's Downfall:

And of course this all comes to a head when Caitlyn and Vi finally confront Jinx and Sevika. I have broken this fight down and everything that transpires more times than I can count so I'll spare you all that again. But continuing to tackle this thing through Caitlyn's guilt we can talk about this.

Take everything we have already considered. All of her guilt over mother, her feeling of not deserving her legacy, her guilt over Vi's involvement, and twist that all up with the grief, and trauma, and pain and rage, and fear she has been totally unable to heal from. That absolute shitstorm is rampaging through her entire being. And she is face to face with the living embodiment of all of it.

She is one rifle shot away from justice for everything she hates Jinx for, and blames herself for. A chance to slay her monster. A chance to make things right. And that is all she can see.

She can't see that little girl whose life she is risking

She can't see the woman she loves begging her to stop and standing her way. She even fires striking Vi's gauntlet once and fires again

And then as we all know. That resolution Caitlyn so desperately needs in her mind is taken from her. Vi was completely correct to stop Caitlyn but in her complete emotional and mental overload that just cannot get through to to her. And it all comes down to a moment that, when we consider the guilt of Caitlyn Kiramman, I sincerely doubt she will ever truly forgive herself for

The Commander:

Looking for specific instances for analysis, we really don't get a lot of moments where she is truly lost as "The Commander" to apply to this topic. There is one I will mention very briefly.

When Caitlyn is speaking with Maddie in bed, Maddie does the same sort of baiting we see Ambessa do. Telling Caitlyn she could call it all of, she has the power and so on. It's an ongoing conversation but there is one line particularly I want to mention:

"Not without Jinx"

Now this could certainly just be her continued obsession with Jinx. But if we take everything else into account it doesn't feel that way. She seems tired, and full of regret. If you will indulge a bit of speculation, I go back to the lyrics from Hamilton I quoted frequently in my early days on here when I wrote about Caitlyn's story:

"There are moments when your in so deep, it feels easier to just swim down"

I believe Caitlyn is full of regret, and guilt, and self-hatred for all that has happened. Her betrayal of Vi, her becoming someone she never wanted, all of it. But it has to be worth it. Because she has nothing else left. If she gives up, if she doesn't get Jinx, then at the end of the day it was truly all for nothing. And we get some proof of that when she speaks with Jinx later.

"I've hated you.. hated myself. I just don't have the energy for it any longer"

Conclusion:

Caitlyn's journey is influenced by so many things. And I feel like I ended up just sort of digging into her arc as I have done many times again to a point. But I hope you get something out of this. I certainly did by writing it as I always do, because I love this story. I wanted to try and dig into the part of her that is being driven by that self-doubt, and guilt, all born from a truly spectacular act of mercy. Caitlyn would have been well within her rights to obliterate Jinx then and there, and instead spares her. Changing her life forever in ways good and bad alike.

Thank you and take care!

#arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #caitlyn kiramman #vi arcane #caitvi #jinx arcane

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