#there are just endless last-minute cancellations

[uselessgaywhovian]

y'know how a lot of folks adopted dogs during covid lockdowns

and then when things started opening up again, a lot of those dogs were poorly-trained wrecks being left home alone for the first time

i feel like that, except about my D&D group

[dr-solomon]

(🔞) — "you can only touch me when the music stops."

w: bf!gyu × fem!reader, unprotected sex, pussy eating/slapping, dirty talk, little mutual seductive games?shows? (wildness wildness wildness wildness)

~

You had been busy all week, so when the weekend came, the excitement of having a chance to spend time with each other made you both silly.

This time Beomgyu was at your house and you realized once again that the house was really empty without him today.

You could have chatted in your bedroom until dawn. It was probably your favorite thing. Both of you would take turns talking about your week; Beomgyu's tragic events with his boss, or your annoying teachers were the most viral topics of your nightly chats.

For you, talking only under the moonlight and the led lights made this activity extra special.

That's why tonight you were sitting in your bedroom, which you had decorated together.

But tonight, something was different.

"Hey, is your alarm going off?" Beomgyu was the first to hear the strange sound coming from under the covers.

"Oh, yeah." You hurriedly found your phone and stopped the stupid sound.

Annoying music is always ideal for alarms.

You smiled at Beomgyu. "I forgot to turn it off." And he smiled back. "My love, are you setting an alarm for this time?" It was funny to him because he had never seen you set an alarm for the night before.

"Yeah, it's just a new way of getting to bed early." you laughed to yourself. "I'm too stubborn to ignore alarms."

"Yeah, I've noticed." He always hid something in that smile. "That's because you're so used to it that instead of turning it off again, you snoozed."

"Oh?" A real laugh this time. "God, I've been so stupid for the last week."

He looked at you as if to say you were cute instead of stupid. You reached for the bedside drawer with the phone in your hand but he stopped you.

"You're gonna cancel the alarm?"

"Yes."

"How many times does the alarm go off before it automatically goes off?"

"Um... I think it's 7?"

"So it's gonna go off 6 more times?"

"Mhm."

"Okay, so how many minutes does the snooze last?"

"Five."

"Good."

"What's on your mind?"

You smiled together, his was much dirtier. "Do you wanna play a game?"

"What kind of game?" asked curiously.

"It's like..." he licked his bottom lip. "Only when the alarm stops going off, you can touch me" whispered. "And I'll touch you."

"Wow."

Your body warmed up to what he was offering you, his little games and his cheekiness.

You realized that the game he was talking about would give you both heaven and hell, he let you think about it. He always liked to start fires.

You crawled towards him, he watched you curiously. Seeing in his eyes the endless desire he had for you. The only good thing about all those stupid days and weeks was that Choi Beomgyu belonged to you.

“I think the second alarm is less than 5 minutes away.” you whispered. Your foreheads touched, fortunately you liked playing with fire as much as he did.

His smile slowly left his face during the whole conversation. He put his hand on your cheek and joined your lips passionately. Your hair caressed his face, your bangs tangled. You listened to the wet sounds of your slow and warm kiss. And his humming.

Sounds were Beomgyu's weak point, he always went wild to hear more.

He bit your lower lip “Come here.” grabbed your hips and helped you sit on his lap.

This time he pressed your tongues together before your lips and you knew he wasn't closing his eyes. His hand moved down into your shorts and touched your bare cheeks. His palm was warm.

Your teeth touched his upper lip. Beomgyu opened his mouth and closed his eyes, letting you bite him as much as you wanted.

You squeezed his hair at the nape of his neck as his right hand slipped between your thighs and reached your pussy. He pressed his middle and ring finger against your hole through the panties and not even a few seconds into feeling that sweet pressure, the annoying sound was heard.

Second alert.

Beomgyu slowly pulled his hand out of your shorts and your whole body trembled with disappointment. You took your hands off him and got off his lap, reached for your phone and snoozed the alarm.

Beomgyu's cheeks were pink, he didn't like the space in his lap, but there was still a smile on his lips. “Do you like it?”

You leaned your back against the headboard and hugged your legs. You watched as he put his fingers to his lips, wet from having just touched your panties.

His cat tongue appeared between his lips, wiped his middle and ring finger nicely and went back inside.

My god. You gulped, looking like he was waiting for an answer to his question.

Really? He followed curiously as your hands moved down to your shorts. You locked your eyes on his as you slowly removed the soft fabric from your legs.

Beomgyu pressed his lips together and immediately looked into your eyes after your shorts fell to the floor. He wasn't smiling anymore, he was just there looking at you with his messy hair and going a little insane.

His eyes widened when your hand went to your hips again. “No.” Beomgyu growled. But what could stop you?

“Y/n...” He watched with his open mouth as your thin black underwear made its slow journey down your legs. Your t-shirt covered your thighs and you licked your lips, ending the show you were putting on for him.

You were happy to do such a good job while wanting his hands all over you. Beomgyu pressed his hand to the bulge in his pants and backed up a little. Cursing silently, closed his eyes and threw his head back.

By now your hands were sweaty and your t-shirt was a rag in your palms, you bit your lower lip excitedly. The sound of your phone letting you know that the stupid time you'd been trying to count in your head over and over again had come to an end.

And God knows, it was the first time you liked that brain-piercing sound so much.

Third alarm.

Beomgyu didn't even let you move. When he was on top of you with a speed you had never seen before, you squeezed his shoulders impatiently, but he wasn't thinking the same thing.

He pulled you down and holding your knees, spread your legs and buried his face in your pussy.

“Oh my-” at the end of a hellish five minutes, you regained the warm sensation of his mouth.

“B-beomgyu...” grabbed his hair. He repeatedly opened and closed his mouth over your hole as if his life depended on it.

He was squeezing and lifting your hips and making you settle better in his mouth, he was the best at it.

“Mmm” All those sounds he was making from you as your juices mixed with his saliva, almost making him cum too.

He parted your lips with his fingers and stubbornly pressed his tongue deep inside you. Just like he needed it more than you did.

He lifted his head and watched you drip a little more intensely and looked at that wonderful expression on your face. With his right hand he slapped your pleasure spot hard, “Ah!” that made you squirt a little. That's exactly why you felt you couldn't take it anymore when he landed the second slap harder. “Beomgyu, no-” you didn't want to cum right away but you wanted him to make you squirt like crazy.

You got up on your elbows, Beomgyu stuck his tongue out, looking into your eyes as his mouth covered all over your pussy again.

Well, you wouldn't mind coming more than once tonight, would you?

Just as your stomach is trembling with pleasure and you feel one step closer to the high...

Fourth alarm.

"Fuck! Fuck..." you turned toward the phone and snoozed the alarm with a tap, almost as if you wanted to break it.

The sensation of his mouth disappeared. Beomgyu is a total stunner with a dripping chin, teary eyes and red lips.

He put his hands in his messy hair, combed it back and returned to a sitting position on the bed. You could see him panting with rage, pulled his shirt off and threw it on the floor.

It was his idea and you were having fun, but now you can see he hates himself.

As you sat up, Beomgyu turned his head towards you and watched your glistening thighs. His art.

You didn't feel the need to fix your messy hair like he did, just leaned your head back and sighed as your pussy throbbed like crazy.

You took turns looking at his thin bracelet, his hair tucked behind his ear, his naked upper body and the triangle in his pants.

"I hate myself." Beomgyu laughed and made you laugh too. Both laughed at what a sucker you were to each other.

You touched the hair clinging to your neck, only your breathing could be heard in the room. You had never been eaten so savagely by Beomgyu before.

"You're gonna take that off too?" he taunted, knew there was nothing under your shirt. His hand settled on his belt, it was obvious he wished for nothing more than to see you naked. And that you didn't like the space between your legs.

"No." you replied, "This is for you."

Beomgyu laughed, you could see what you had done to his cheeks.

You watched him unbuckle his belt, he didn't just throw it on the floor, he ran his fingers over its surface.

The few scenarios in which he used it on you unfolded as if they had always been there. Pressed your knees together, your vagina, sensitive as hell, made a wet sound and that made Beomgyu turn to you.

You've never seen his eyes so dark before: "Can you do it again?"

The voices...

Swallowed, his eyes were on your knees and thighs, everywhere. Slowly spread your legs and... 'Pop!'

He watched all over your vagina, which was soaked thanks to him, getting a little closer. "You're a fucking goddess." His breath hit your pussy, your eyes watered with desire. "Beomgyu..."

Eyes met, you felt your nipples itch as he smiled at the needy expression on your face.

He stepped back, dropped the belt he was holding and continued to watch you, that smile still on his face. "Your pussy has never tasted anything like this before, has it darling?" licked his lips, looking quite delighted. "Even if I let you sit on my face all night, you wouldn't get tired of dripping, right?"

"Beomgyu-" his dirty words coming out of his still glistening chin made you drip some more on your sheet, you pulled your legs towards you and hid.

"Ahah," Beomgyu laughed, looking down at your writhing body with pleasure. "Even if the fucking alarm doesn't go off, I can make you cum with my words."

You pressed your face into the pillow, Beomgyu followed your movements, wishing he was right behind you now. "You're such a good girl."

Guessed he was pressed against his cock again.

Fifth alarm.

You lifted your face and threw the pillow on the floor, Beomgyu didn't let you break your prone position and settled on top of you. He lifted your hips up and stood behind you, just as he had just imagined.

When his penis finally touched your vagina, you gave him your most beautiful moan ever. Closed your eyes as Beomgyu slowly entered you. All his hardness expanded you, hitting your clit, sliding over your wetness, filling you mercilessly...

Your immediate grip and squeeze caused Beomgyu to fall onto your back. "Ah, ah..." You swallowed almost too well for him to move. He put his hands on top of yours, his hot breath coming in behind your ear. At this point you both forgot about your little game, there was only desire and passion.

Beomgyu introduced you to his fastest tempo, your bodies started pounding against each other. Both of you smeared all your wetness on each other.

Beomgyu was trapped between your walls, forgetting the whole world and making you forget the whole world.

The electric sensation in your stomach again, the sound of the alarm you heard along with Beomgyu's growl, could not be prevented this time.

He reached for your phone and, cursing, turned off the alarm, threw it hard onto the bed. You laughed at the sound the phone made as it slipped over the sheets and landed on the floor.

Eyes closed with passion, Beomgyu returned to rummaging through you. Faster, faster pace.

With great pleasure, your boyfriend broke his own game and made you cum all over him and came deep inside you.

He put his face to your neck, felt the last wave of pleasure as the sound of your breaths fought.

"C-condom-"

"Fuck the condoms."

The taste of fucking with him raw for the first time.*

Beomgyu wrapped his arms around your waist and made you lie on his chest as he lay on his back on the bed. He found your hands, which you made into fists, and took them in his palm.

You've watched the ceiling many times on this bed, but now enjoy watching it as you lie on top of him.

"Did your phone break?"

~

!! do not 'fuck' the condoms, USE the condoms🖖!!

©dr-solomon 2024

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 2 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, oral sex), super toxic relationship.

Word Count: 6.5k

(part 1)

His favorit toy- Part 2:

Two months have passed since the last time Art and I fucked. Although it wouldn’t be fair to call it that, because I don’t fully know what it was. I only know he said he thinks he loves me. Neither of us made the minimal effort to rekindle any kind of relationship. I kept sitting with Janet and Shane, and he stayed in his place next to the friend he invented.

Occasionally, if I focused, I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck, but maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I also imagined his declaration of love, maybe I lost my grip on reality for a moment. Maybe more water needs to flow under this bridge. Maybe Tashi Duncan needs to be his, like he is hers, so I can stop dreaming about him at night. How did I become so dependent on the emotions of a girl I have no desire to exchange a word with? How did I lose someone I’m not sure was ever mine? And more than anything- what made me spend so much time in this endless whining?

A few days after that party, Luke sat next to me in one of the classes we share. He looked so good that if I close my eyes, I can imagine it's Art. A remarkably pathetic thought, but it works. Except he isn’t cruel. He doesn't try to deceive me or lead me to the point he wants me to reach. He’s interested in me and my hobbies, and sometimes he walks me from class to class, but in these two months, he hasn’t made any move beyond placing his hand on my shoulder. Maybe he thinks I have lice. Maybe he thinks I won’t be good enough in bed to risk our boring conversations about the eco-intro professor.

Maggie, the girl I work with, canceled at the last minute, so I ended up alone at the smoothie station and the register. I took comfort in the fact that it's exam season and not too many Stanford students would prefer to stand in line for a smoothie instead of grabbing a spot in the library on a Sunday night. "The usual?" I heard Art’s voice and lifted my gaze from the book I was reading. I blinked at him a few times, as if trying to figure out if I was imagining his smug smile. Maybe it wasn’t smug, maybe that's just how he always smiles when he sees me. Like he knows a secret he’ll never tell me. "I..." I tried to hold onto the reality as I knew it, "I don’t remember," I smiled without showing teeth, half-forced.

"Peach—" he stopped himself in the middle of the stupid nickname. Apparently, he understood from my look that it wasn’t appropriate after two months of radio silence. "Almond milk, banana, pecan, and coconut," he mumbled. "That’s $4.50," he nodded. I wondered if he was surprised, because I’d never asked him to pay before. I’d always used the free smoothie I got during my shift on him. "How a—" he started to speak, and I turned on the blender, seeing out of the corner of my eye that he was smirking and shaking his head. "Fair," he muttered. "Here’s your smoothie. Goodnight," I handed him the cup after a few seconds, with the most forced smile I could muster. He rolled his eyes in response and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked. "Sitting and drinking my smoothie, obviously," he spoke again as if I were two years old. Like I needed him to mediate reality for me because I couldn’t understand it on my own. "Do you see anyone else sitting here?" I asked. "Just because the tables are empty because it’s ten at night and you’re working in a cafeteria-" he began. "This isn’t a cafeteria. It’s the—" "Doesn’t mean I can’t sit at one of the tables and drink my smoothie. Or are there new rules I’m not aware of?" I rolled my eyes in response. Smug dickhead. I was definitely not going to give him a second of my time. I went back to the book I was reading for my philosophy exam, trying to ignore his presence but realizing I was reading the same sentence five times in a row.

"What are you studying?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "Why are you doing this?" I threw the question back from behind the counter, sighing in frustration. "What am I doing?" The usual smirk was plastered on his face. "Why are you here on a Sunday night, Art?" If I could stomp my foot to express protest, I would. "Because you’re here on a Sunday night." The smirk turned into a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was sincere. I never know if he’s sincere.

"What do you want?" I rolled my eyes and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to leave. I knew he was stubborn in an almost inspiring way (or nauseating, depending on who you ask) and that he was always at an advantage with me. He always had the last word. All I had left was to let him say it quickly and move on with life. "To ask how you're doing?" he half said, half asked. He sounded hesitant, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was as confident as any other day. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Amazing. Anything else?" I found myself crossing my arms under my chest and saw him, without shame, shift his gaze, well… to my chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Arthur!" I felt like I was his aunt as he shook his head, almost playfully. "I missed you, Peaches. Is that so hard to believe?" He chuckled, still completely shameless. "Well, I didn’t." That was the first thing that came to mind, and the face Art made, along with the eye roll, only emphasized how much he didn’t believe me. "Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was amused as he approached the counter with his smoothie, grabbing the book I was reading without asking. "What course is this?" "Philosophy," I snatched it from his hand, and he grabbed mine with the speed of an athlete who works too much with his hands. "Let go," I muttered, not sure if I wanted him to release my hand or release me. But I was scared he'd agree and disappear again, and that was so fucking pathetic. "Never," he replied, keeping his gaze on me and giving my hand a squeeze. "It’s not fair, Art," I hated how my voice sounded. "What’s not fair?" he asked, tracing small circles on my hand the moment he felt me relax the muscle that had been trying to pull away from his touch. "What you're doing right now," I sighed. If he weren’t in front of me, I probably would’ve started crying out of frustration. "What am I doing right now?" The smirk was once again plastered on his face. "Trying to convince me everything's okay between us," I hesitated, and he shook his head from side to side. "Nothing's okay between us, Peaches. I hate it. I actually hate it. I think about you 80% of the day. Every time I want to talk to you, you're either with your friends or with Luke." He wrinkled his nose as he said his name.

"Why do you know his name?" I asked, studying him. "Because I looked him up, and I'm telling you, Peaches, he's fucking weird—" "You're fucking weird," I shot back, and he laughed, trying to move the hair from my face with his free hand. "Well, maybe you like us weird, maybe you've got a type," he tried to joke, making me roll my eyes. "Who said I like you, Donaldson?" I tried to defend myself, and Art wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. He just looked at me, not letting me read his expression. His hand, which had been playing with mine, tightened its grip, and his gaze locked onto me as if I was on trial for the words that just came out of my mouth.

"Let’s study for the statistics exam together tomorrow?" He changed the subject, not breaking his intense gaze. "Art—" "Study for the exam. Just that. I won't pass it if you don't help me," he flashed his most charming smile. The one he fakes in seconds. The one he uses for interviews with the Stanford magazine and in photoshoots for the tennis team posters. "Study with Dylan," I suggested, raising an eyebrow, referring to the imaginary friend he chose to sit with instead of me. "You want me to beg?" he asked, poking my shoulder with his finger, causing me to shift slightly but still not letting go of my hand. "Maybe," I teased. "I can. My ego will survive if you study with me for statistics tomorrow." He said it quicker than I expected.

"I have a philosophy exam at eight. Can you do twelve?" I asked. "I can when you can. Where’s the exam? I’ll wait for you," he said. "Meet me at the economics library. There’s a room where you’re allowed to talk if you’re working in groups," I explained my choice. "That’s ridiculous. Let’s study at your place or mine—" "We’ll study at the library, take it or leave it," I stated firmly, even though the temptation to go to his dorm was strong since he never invited me. We always went to mine. "Library it is," he agreed. "What’s your philosophy exam about?" he asked, finally letting go of my hand, which had been holding the book I was studying from. "Aristotle and eudaimonia. What he thinks about happiness," I muttered, opening my notes again. "What does he think about happiness?" Art asked, leaning on the counter. "You wouldn’t get it," I smiled at him, and saw him nod with a somewhat thoughtful look, as if his combative spirit and desire to argue had evaporated the moment I agreed to study statistics with him. "Tomorrow at twelve, Peaches. Don’t break my heart and ditch me," he threw into the air, leaving the booth with the same dramatic flair he had when he entered. . . . I walked into the economics library, which was packed with people. Art was already sitting there, messing with his phone more than with the notes in front of him on the table. He hadn’t noticed I’d entered, giving me the chance to observe him. His blonde curls fell over his eyes in a way that likely bothered him. He was wearing his red tennis outfit (the one I liked the most, I should mention) and looked carefree. He always seemed too relaxed, maybe that’s how it is when everything comes to you with an ease that’s almost disgusting.

"You need a haircut," I muttered the first thing that came to mind as I approached, seeing him look up immediately. "Hey," he said, smiling from ear to ear, "I saved a spot because I knew it’d be crowded," he added. "How long have you been sitting here?" I asked as I took the seat next to him. "Since about ten," he chuckled, probably at himself, "How was the exam?" he asked. "Long. Have you gone over any of the material?" Yesterday, I decided I’d be practical. I’d promised to help him, and honestly, I always understood the material better myself when I explained it to him. And if Art Donaldson could take advantage of my knowledge in statistics, then I could take advantage of the situation too. Not just him. "A little, I pretty much lost track in the middle of the course." Art had taken this course as an elective. I always found it funny because who takes statistics as an extra class when it’s not even required for their degree?

"What, Kevin didn’t let you copy his notes?" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he lightly tapped my shoulder. "You’re mean. Since when are you so mean?" he responded with a humor I couldn’t fully read, unsure if he was joking or if part of him actually thought there was some cruelty in me. Maybe it was the philosophy exam I couldn’t shake off. Obsessive thoughts about happiness and potential. "I’m going to get myself some coffee, want me to bring you something?" I asked, changing the subject. "Sit down, get settled, I’ll get it for you," he nodded toward me and stood up, not giving me a chance to refuse before he disappeared from my sight, leaving me alone.

Art Donaldson will be the end of me. I’m certain of it. "My brain is fried, Donaldson. I can’t look at any more averages," I summed up after two hours of studying. "Yeah? Already gave up?" he asked, amused. "I remind you that I had an exam today! I don’t think I’ve eaten anything other than my own brain," I tried to remember what I’d actually eaten today. "So let’s go eat something," he smiled. His eyes practically sparkled. "Art," I sighed, resting my head on my hand. "What? We can’t go have lunch?" he asked with mock innocence. Speaking to me again like I was a child. Like I didn’t understand what he’d already figured out long ago. "No, of course not," I wanted to smack him on the head as if he were the dumbest person I knew. "I can’t let you stay hungry, Peaches, my grandmother would be mad at me," he quickly replied. Where was your grandmother every time you humiliated me to the core? Every time you made me feel empty and stupid? So stupid. "Your grandmother will survive," I rolled my eyes. "She’s a very sick woman, you don’t know that. I’ll tell her I let you starve and she’ll have a stroke. You won’t be able to live with that on your conscience. You’ll drag us into lives full of guilt—" "Okay, you’re giving me a headache, God," I mumbled, standing up. Art Donaldson’s smug smile returned to his face in an instant.

That’s how I found myself sitting across from him at the fancy cafeteria for athletes, eating nuggets after the woman working there flirted with him and gave me a threatening look. "Don’t hate Rosie, she always gives me extra pie," he said after I pointed out that she looked at me like I was the reason the Beatles broke up. "Because she wants to sleep with you," I rolled my eyes. "So she has a reason to look at you like that. Makes sense," he replied with a chuckle. "Okay, what is this?" I dropped the nugget I was holding and pointed between us as I leaned back in my chair. "What?" he continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening. "What are you doing, Art?" I asked, feeling my leg start to shake out of frustration.

"I’m eating and making sure you’re eating," he replied, taking another bite of his food, as if we were having a completely normal conversation. "We’re not going to fuck again just because you invited me to eat nuggets at the cafeteria, you know that, right?" I blinked at him, trying to signal that he was delusional. "Of course not," he said, leaning back in his chair as well. "I have principles, Donaldson," I continued. "I know," he smiled. "I’m not some girl you found on the street that you can treat however you want, disappear for two months, invite her for nuggets, and she’ll take off her bra just so you can vanish again until the next time you’re horny," my voice rose a bit, despite my effort to keep it calm. I saw his jaw tighten, his expression shifting from amused to cold. "Is that what you think this is?" he asked, and all I could do was shrug.

"It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to think otherwise, Art," I looked at him and felt that if I stayed there much longer, I’d start crying. "I told you that I lo—" he began, but I stood up. "Thanks for lunch, it’s definitely nicer than the regular cafeteria," I forced a smile, and he closed his eyes. "You didn’t eat anything," he replied. If I focused, maybe I could have seen his frustration growing. But I was trying to focus on not crying. Art Donaldson’s ego didn’t deserve to see me cry over him again. "I’m really tired, I need to sleep a bit before my shift," I mumbled. "Will you come to my match tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "Art—" "You don’t have to, but I’m saving you a seat, okay?" he cut off my answer, not wanting to hear a refusal, maybe not believing there was a bone in my body capable of saying no to him. . . . And it’s a little pathetic how I ended up walking onto the tennis court the next day, giving up the last shred of my self-respect. I was surprised to see how many people showed up to these things, especially at the end of exam season and right before the break. The place was packed.

‘You came’ -A- I got his message and tried to look around, searching for where he might be. ‘Down on the court’ -A- I could practically see his smirk in the words. I glanced toward him and shrugged. ‘Front row, saved you a seat next to Patrick’ -A- he added.

‘What the fuck is Patrick?’ -(Y/N)- I replied, not moving toward where he told me to go.

‘A friend. Please sit there.’ -A- He answered shortly. ‘Want to lift my head and know where you are’ -A- And when he says things like that, I almost forget how cruel he can be. So I find myself rolling my eyes and walking toward the seat he saved for me.

"Are you Patrick?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush from the awkward interaction with the guy sitting next to the empty seat. "Depends who’s asking," the curly-haired guy responded, flashing a mischievous half-smile. I can see why they’re friends. Fucking twelve-year-olds in the bodies of twenty-year-olds, how is that even possible?! "Don’t be a dick," we heard from down below, and I turned to see Art approaching us. "Who’s this?" the guy I didn’t know asked, as if I wasn’t standing right there—seriously, rude as hell, but whatever. "Patrick, behave," Art wasn’t joking, not even smiling, scolding him like you’d scold a misbehaving pet. "You came," Art looked me over, grinning from ear to ear. "Don’t let it go to your head, I had some free time," I muttered, sitting down. Art nodded. "Will you stay after the game?" he asked. I think it was the first time Art had to look up to talk to me. "I don’t know, I need to keep studying for statistics," I answered. "Me too," he replied. "We’ll study together," he shrugged, not giving me a chance to respond before he walked off, taking his position. Getting ready to serve.

“Interesting,” the guy next to me said. “What exactly?” I asked, rolling my eyes and still not looking at him. “You, of course,” I could hear him smiling. “What’s so interesting about me?” I kept staring into the air, unsure if I should focus on Art, who still hadn’t started playing, or the phenomenon sitting next to me. Arrogant, just like the blond guy who’s been emotionally torturing me for months. “Well, first of all, I’ve never heard of you. You’re a surprise,” he said as if it was obvious. And it stung a little, even though I knew the chances of Art talking about me were slim to none. “Maybe you’re the problem, Pete,” I muttered, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall his name. “Patrick,” he corrected, laughing, making me look at him. He had a loud laugh, unapologetic. I knew his name was Patrick, and he knew I knew, but he still found it amusing.

“Maybe you’re the surprise,” I told him. “He doesn’t talk about you either.” I tried to sound unaffected, like everything was fine. The game started, and Art looked distracted. Maybe he always looks like that when he plays tennis- I’ve never watched his games before, he’s never invited me. “You’re supposed to watch the other side too,” Patrick whispered in my ear, causing me to roll my eyes. “Hey, Stats Girl,” I heard the familiar voice of Tashi Duncan just before she sat next to Patrick, cursing the day I decided to trust Art Donaldson and show up at his game. “The one and only,” I muttered with the best smile I could muster, feeling myself blush at the ridiculous nickname she gave me. “How’s he doing?” she asked Patrick. I wondered what their connection was. “He’s good, you know, as usual. Ice.” he replied, and they started talking quietly about the game, about Art, and about the opponent.

All I could think about was how good Art looked. He looked as if everything came to him effortlessly, as if he didn’t need to try for anything—everything just happened. And I knew that wasn’t true, I knew he worked hard, trained, ate properly, invested in his studies, and that he was probably a good grandson and a good friend. He was good to everyone except me. “Are you enjoying the game?” Tashi asked, pulling my gaze away from Art for a moment. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding what she wanted. “The game, are you enjoying it? He’s playing well,” she clarified. “Yeah, he’s really good,” I mumbled. I didn’t know what else to add to make it sound convincing. “Leave her, Tash. She doesn’t know anything about tennis, she’s his cheerleader,” Patrick answered her, snickering. I shot him a murderous look. “Patrick, don’t be rude,” Tashi said, “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know how to behave around people,” she turned to me, as if he wasn’t there. “It’s fine,” I replied, feeling my leg start to shake from the frustration. They went back to talking about the game, and I suddenly felt how pathetic it was, showing up to watch him play. To come and see him in his element, when he wasn’t part of my life anymore. When his friend sat next to me, mocking me to my face. “I’ll be right back…” I mumbled, walking toward the exit. I had no intention of coming back. . . . Two hours later, there were chaotic knocks on my door. “You left,” Art walked in without waiting for an invitation the second I opened the door. He looked angry. “I told you I didn’t know if I’d stay, I have an exam tom-” “Bullshit. What’s your deal? Why did you come?” He practically shouted as I closed the door. “You asked me to come,” I mumbled. “I also asked you to stay, but you left in the middle, so what was the point of you coming?” He crossed his arms. I don’t think I’d ever seen him this angry. He’s always calculated and calm. “Did he say something?” he added, asking a question. “What?” I returned, not understanding what he was talking about. “Patrick, did he say something to you? Why did you leave?” He asked again, speaking to me like I was a child. “He didn’t say anything to me. I left because I didn’t understand what I was even watching. I don’t know anything about tennis, Art, and I have an exam to study for,” I tried to justify. “Enough with that exam. I heard you studying for it yesterday, you know the material, we both know you know it.” He sighed. “I didn’t ask you to come to give tennis commentary. I asked you to come because I wanted you in the crowd. I wanted to see you in the crowd,” he continued. I could hear the effort in his voice to keep it together, to not lose control.

“Tashi was in the crowd; that should be enough for you,” I muttered, lifting my gaze to him, seeing that he was already staring at me. We had never talked like this about Tashi. She had always been this figure hovering above us. He talked about her constantly, unrelated to anything. He talked about her like she was a god. He talked about how she played tennis, about her training, how she helped him. He talked about parties he only went to because Tashi wanted to go. But I never responded in a way that would let him understand that I knew. That I wasn’t completely clueless. That I knew he was completely in love with her. That he loved her the way I loved him and that nothing would change that. “Oh, so that’s the problem. You could’ve started with that. It bothered you that Tashi was in the crowd?” He chuckled. He fucking chuckled. “Why did it bother you?” He moved closer to me, and I had no choice but to avert my gaze from his piercing blue eyes, which felt like bullets at that moment. “It didn’t bother m-” “Look at me.” He was close enough to grab my head and turn it back to face him. “I asked you a question,” he added, not letting me escape. And if there’s anyone I didn’t want to talk about, it’s Tashi Duncan.

“Why did you invite me? Why did you want me in the crowd?” “Because I wanted you to see me play,” he answered without blinking, as if it was obvious. As if there wasn’t a single question I could ask him that he wouldn’t have an answer for. “You love Tashi, Art. You lo-” His lips were on mine the second I said it. Again, there was nothing calm or calculated about this kiss. He was trying to prove that he didn’t, that I was wrong. While we both knew I was right. “You can’t say things like that, Peaches. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled as he pulled away from me to catch a breath. “It’s okay that you love her. I’ve made peace with it. I just need you to let me move on, Art,” I sighed, trying to catch my breath again. “I don’t fucking love her.” He was angry; I could hear it in his voice. “What do I have to do to make you understand that you’re the only girl for me?” He kissed me again, and I could feel him getting hard from the way he pressed against me, causing me to moan into his mouth. “Yeah? Is this the only way I can get through to you? Is this the only way you believe me?” he asked, running his lips down my neck. "Art," it was half a moan, half a cry. My eyes closed, and as they did, I felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders, pulling me down until I was on my knees in front of him. I unbuttoned his jeans and quickly pulled down his boxers. I felt almost possessed as he sat on the edge of my bed, forcing me to crawl toward him. “There we go. Is this the only way I need to treat you for you to understand your place?” he muttered as I knelt before him again. I felt a light slap on my cheek from his cock, much more humiliating than painful. “I asked you a question,” he continued.

“N-no,” I mumbled. “Even your voice is annoying me right now,” he muttered, and without warning, I felt his cock in my mouth. He didn’t give me a moment to adjust, punishing me for leaving the match, maybe for bringing up Tashi, maybe for everything combined. You could never tell with him. I felt him hitting the back of my throat, and I tried to suppress my gag reflex with little success. Three months since he’d been in my mouth showed signs. “Shhh, you can do better than that,” he half-stroked my hair, half-held me in place by it. Then he pulled me back, leaving a trail of spit and precum. “You’re such a mess,” he chuckled, and again I felt a light slap of his cock against my cheek. I put my lips back where I knew he needed them the most, and this time, there was no gentle stroking of my hair. There was only a hand forcing me to stay in place as he used my mouth however he wanted. “Nothing to say now, huh?” he said, not very coherently, as I began to feel the warm, thick liquid spill into my throat. “Atta girl,” he patted my hair twice before letting me pull back.

I stood up slowly, trying to catch my breath. “Come here,” he mumbled, pointing to his thigh. I can’t refuse Art Donaldson, so I sat on his lap, placing my hands on his neck in an almost embrace, watching him smile. “Why is everything so hard with you?” he muttered, and his lips lazily found my neck. “I just don’t know what you want from me,” I responded, trying to focus on anything other than his lips currently on my collarbone. “I told you I love you,” he mumbled, his eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t mean that,” I shot back.

“Oh yeah?” His smirk spread across his face, and in seconds, he tossed me onto the bed as if I weighed nothing. He was above me. “For now, the one acting like a brat is you,” he said, his presence casting a shadow over me like a predator playing with its prey. “The one who left in the middle of my match is you.” His lips again left trails on my skin. I don’t even know when he took my shirt off. I felt a light bite on my nipple that made me moan. “Fuck, fa- Art,” I mumbled, unable to focus. “The one avoiding interaction with my friends is you.” His hand joined in, starting to torture my other nipple as his kisses moved further down. “I’m not,” I managed to respond, just as he easily removed my panties.

His breaths hovered over my pussy, short and hot, and if I didn’t know Art Donaldson so well, I would’ve thought he was looking up at me with almost a pleading expression. But he was in complete control. A small kiss on my lips, but not where I really needed him, made me shift my hips a little, and he chuckled- a laugh that was almost childlike. “Hey, ask nicely,” he managed to say, and I returned to the position I had before, legs around his head. “Please, Art,” I knew there was no point in arguing; he always got what he wanted in the end. “No problem, baby,” in seconds, his tongue was on my clit, starting slowly with circular motions and picking up speed with every moment. “There you go, you’re almost there,” he muttered, pulling back just before I could come. “What-” I tried to catch my breath again, craving the euphoria only he could give me at that moment. “I want to be inside you,” he answered without waiting for the full question, and in an instant, his cock filled me, making me moan. “Fuck,” I managed to mumble, feeling my eyes roll back. “Hold on a little longer, Peach,” he said, slipping his finger into my mouth like he liked to do, watching my lips close around it. “Now,” he muttered, pushing it deeper into my throat while he thrust into me, feeling me tighten around him like only an orgasm from him could make me do.

He fucked me stupid. There’s no other way to describe what I experienced, and as we both tried to catch our breath, I wondered how long it would take for him to leave this time and what his excuse would be. “Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” I quietly asked, trying to throw him off balance for a moment. “No, but I don’t know anything for the stats exam,” he admitted and chuckled. “Art! I taught you all the material yesterday,” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t concentrate when you’re teaching me.” “Then why did you ask for help?” It was my turn to laugh. “Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in your element,” he shrugged like it was obvious. Like hearing me talk about statistics would make him fall in love with me. Like it wasn’t what I felt two and a half hours ago when he played tennis, until I almost choked on love.

“When are you going home?” he asked, probably knowing my last exam was in statistics. “I’m not,” I replied casually, and he quickly shifted positions. “Why the hell not?” he asked, and I saw a small wrinkle form between his eyebrows. “It’s no big deal, Donaldson,” I chuckled, “I picked up extra shifts, and I have a paper to work on. Speaking of shifts, I need to get ready for mine.” I added as I checked the time. He watched me as I walked around the room, trying to decide if I smelled too much like sex to push the shower until after work. “Are you coming to the study marathon tomorrow before the exam?” he asked, starting to get dressed too. “Of course,” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t think about skipping it, Art. You need it,” I said, knowing exactly who I was dealing with. “Okay, Mom,” his voice was amused, and I rolled my eyes, looking at him for another moment. We don’t get too many moments like these. Almost domestic. Almost mine.

"Hey, we're good, right?" he suddenly asked, holding my hand and not letting me continue running around the room. "Yeah, Art, everything's fine," I smiled half-heartedly, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Because I don't want another two months like these," he muttered, and I knew it was hard for him to admit. It was hard for him to say that the past two months had been strange, to say the least. Difficult, to be honest. "Me neither." I nodded at him. "When are you flying home?" I asked as we were both already outside the door, after I had locked it. "Four hours after the exam, I’m supposed to be on a flight," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow, two weeks at home, excited?" I asked. "Not that much, mostly glad I get to visit my grandma. She follows my matches with her entire retirement home, it’s a big deal for her." "Ooooh, you've got fans, Donaldson?" I joked. "You know I do," he replied. "Seriously though, why aren’t you going home?" he added. "It’s not that deep, just an opportunity to make some extra money. Plus, my mom and I aren’t in the best place right now," I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "Don’t you miss home?" he asked. "Not like most people probably do," I smiled at him. "I hate it when you smile like that," he said and suddenly stopped. "How?" I asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Without teeth. That’s your fake smile," he replied without blinking, as if it were strange that I was even asking. "I didn’t think you noticed," I mumbled. And I really didn’t think there was a possibility that Art Donaldson paid attention to details that, until now, I thought only I noticed about him. "I’ll see you tomorrow at the marathon?" he asked when we reached the point where I was supposed to head to the cafeteria and he to his dorm. "Don’t be late," I ordered, giving his face a small push, watching him chuckle and walk away from me. . . .

The next morning, I woke up with the worst headache I’d ever had in my life. I felt my nose was blocked, and I knew for sure I had a fever, though I had no way to measure it. 'Where are you?' -A-

'Sick, I’ll come for the exam' -(Y/N)-

'What’s wrong with you?' -A- I didn’t respond to that message, preferring to sleep a bit more before waking up for the statistics exam.

I got in the shower, and when I got out, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my flushed cheeks as a contrast to my pale face. There was no mistaking it when you looked at me- I wasn’t at my best. The auditorium was partially full when I entered, people chatting among themselves, and I looked around, seeing Art already staring at me before he approached, getting ahead of Janet, who shot me a questioning glance. "Well, you look like shit," he stated, placing his hand on my forehead. "Fuck, Peaches, you’re burning up," he muttered, looking at me with an almost angry expression. "How did you manage to start dying in the minute and a half I left you alone?" he said. "I’m talented, Donaldson. Can you not yell? My head hurts," I mumbled, sitting in the empty seat I found.

The exam went smoothly and ended faster than it began. I physically couldn’t wait for Art to finish, so I texted him, hoping he’d enjoy his time at home, and I went to sleep. Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door, chaotic like the one from the day before. "Hey," he muttered. "You’ll miss your flight," I replied, running a tired hand over my eyes. "I’m not flying," he said quickly. "What?" I asked, not understanding what he was talking about, seeing him take off his shirt and pants, left only in his boxers. "Art, I physically can’t have sex," I chuckled, not understanding what was happening. "We’re going to sleep," he declared, pulling me toward him, leaving me no choice but to get into bed next to him. "Your bed’s worse than mine. Tomorrow we’ll sleep at my dorm," he stated.

"You're going to get sick too" I rolled my eyes, "Why aren’t you going home?" I asked quietly, while his hand traced shapes on my shoulder. "It felt weird going home when you’re sick and staying here," he replied, not ashamed for a second. "Your grandma must be disappointed," I mumbled. "I told her my girlfriend is sick," he said. I wanted so badly to see his face, but I had my back to him. "She must’ve been surprised you have a girlfriend," I said the first thing that came to mind, feeling my heart race. "Not at all, I talk to her about you all the time."

. . .

So here it is. The second part I didn't plan. Hope you like it even tho I wrote half of it while being super sick and didn't check my own grammar at all, so bear with me (a reminder: English is not my first language). Let me know what you think. It's always the best part. Also, I think I'm up for some requests. Let's see what we can come up with. Love you guys

[cherriicou]

Hey can you one where scoups and the reader (also a singer) decided to take a break from him due to their “busy schedules” and haven’t seen or talk in months, but the real reason was bc he was messed up many times like forgetting their anniversary, always cancel plans at last minute.. then he decides to call her and apologize and asks for a second chance….

Thanks🤍

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US

PAIRING | idol!seungcheol x fem idol!reader

CONTENT | crying, breakup, feeling of abandonment, nothing crazy lol

WORDS | 2K

A/N | i listened to ‘no one noticed’ by the marias while writing this on repeat :3

also my first anon request fic! i hope i did well 😓

-

Two years. It was supposed to be a celebration of your two-year anniversary with Seungcheol, yet here you were, sitting alone in your dorm.

Your group members had invited you out for dinner earlier, excitedly encouraging you to join. But you’d declined, smiling softly as you explained it was your anniversary with Seungcheol.

They’d congratulated you warmly, leaving with no reason to doubt the happiness you projected.

But the truth was far from that. As the hours dragged on, the doubts that had been haunting you for months settled heavily in your chest.

You couldn’t ignore the signs anymore—no gifts, no “I love yous,” no dates since... six months ago? The realization stung more than you cared to admit.

Even as your group kept busy with two comebacks in those months, time felt agonizingly slow in your heart. It was as if some part of you had been holding its breath, waiting—hoping—for Seungcheol to finally make your relationship a priority. But the effort never came.

Now, it was 9 p.m., and your phone lay silent on the table. No text, no call, not even a simple acknowledgment of the day. The weight of the moment hit you like a wave, and a shaky sigh escaped your lips as tears began to spill onto your cheeks.

It wasn’t anger or even surprise—it was the quiet, aching kind of sadness that came from realizing how far apart you’d grown from the person you’d once shared everything with.

You went inside your shared room and let sad thoughts consume your mind. The late nights alone, forgotten anniversaries, and last-minute cancellations had left you feeling like an afterthought.

You told yourself it was time to say goodbye. The thought of walking away from the love that had once been your entire world was nearly unbearable, a sharp ache that refused to dull. But no matter how much it hurt, you knew deep down that this was what you needed—for your own peace, for your own healing.

-

After a restless night filled with endless tossing and turning, you found yourself standing at Seungcheol’s apartment door.

Your fingers hovered above the surface, brushing lightly against the wood as memories crashed over you. Laughter shared in the late hours, whispered promises of forever, and the warmth of his arms—all of it had happened behind this door.

And yet, those same walls now felt like a prison for the pain you carried.

You couldn’t bring yourself to knock. Instead, you pulled a single flower from your bag, one you remembered he had loved from a date long ago—a small, bittersweet reminder of happier days.

Carefully, you placed it against the door, its fragile petals a silent farewell.

Just as he had left you waiting time and time again, you chose to leave without a word—no note, no text, no call. Only the flower, a trace of what had been.

And with that, you turned and walked away, carrying the weight of goodbye in your heart.

-

Seungcheol returned home a few hours after you had left. The filming wrapped up earlier than expected, but the exhaustion still clung to him as he shuffled toward his door, phone in hand.

As he stepped closer, a faint crunch underfoot stopped him in his tracks.

Frowning, he glanced down and saw it—a single flower, its delicate petals slightly crushed beneath his shoe.

His heart skipped for a moment, confusion lacing his thoughts. Was it from a fan? Had someone found out where he lived? He quickly scanned his surroundings, but the street was quiet, no signs of anyone nearby.

Kneeling down, he carefully picked up the flower, brushing off the dirt. It was familiar. Too familiar. The memory tugged at the back of his mind, but it felt distant, like a melody he couldn’t quite place.

Why just one? Not a bouquet, not a note—just a single flower, left there all alone. The sight of it unsettled him in a way he didn’t yet understand.

-

It had been two weeks since that night.

Now it was Valentine’s Day—the day of love. Seungcheol finally had his first week off after the whirlwind of promotions for the group’s latest comeback.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he had a moment to breathe. The timing felt almost too perfect, coinciding with the most romantic day of the year.

Lying on his couch, he idly scrolled through his phone, catching up on messages and notifications he’d neglected. His thumb paused when it landed on your name, the last thread of a connection that had grown cold.

He tapped on your conversation, his chest tightening as he noticed the date of your last message. His breath caught.

Two months. He hadn’t messaged you in nearly two months.

With trembling fingers, he opened the last exchange.

"Love you, Cheolie <3"

The words stared back at him, a simple yet heartbreaking reminder of how thoughtlessly he had let you slip away.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as guilt surged through him like a tidal wave. He hadn’t responded. Not even a word. What kind of boyfriend—no, what kind of person—does that?

The ache in his chest deepened, and without thinking, he hit the call button.

Once. No answer.
Twice. Straight to voicemail.

His heart sank. “She’s probably busy,” he muttered to himself, clinging to the shred of hope. Determined, he opened your social media, desperate for any sign of you—but your profile was gone.

Confused and panicking, he clicked through your group’s page, finding your tag. It led to an empty account.

Did you block me?

The thought made his stomach churn. He grabbed his bag and keys, leaving his apartment in a rush. He needed to see you, to explain, to fix this somehow.

When he arrived at your dorm, the security guards blocked his way, unmoved by his pleas. “Please, you know me. I’m not a threat—I just need to see her.” His voice cracked, but their blank stares didn’t falter.

“Seungcheol?”

He turned to see one of your group members approaching, a coffee in hand and a guarded expression on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone clipped and cold.

“I need to talk to Y/N,” he said, desperation thick in his voice. “Please, I just—”

She raised a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “Cheol, no. You aren’t together anymore. Let her be. She’s finally resting for once, and you shouldn’t try to disrupt that.”

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. “What are you talking about? We’re still together—we’ve just been busy with work. That’s all. It doesn’t mean it’s over!”

Her expression softened, but only slightly. “You really don’t get it, do you? Do you even know what you put her through? You forgot anniversaries, canceled plans, stopped saying ‘I love you.’ You didn’t even try. She held onto this relationship long after you let go, and it broke her.”

Seungcheol felt his legs weaken beneath him as her words sank in. He couldn’t argue, couldn’t defend himself—because it was true. He had let you down in every way that mattered.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Just let me see her. Just once.”

She shook her head, gesturing toward the door.

“Go home, Cheol. Let her heal.” Without another word, she disappeared into the building, leaving him standing there, hollow and defeated.

As he made his way back to his car, his thoughts spiraled. There was no excuse for how he had treated you. No explanation could erase the hurt he had caused. But the one thing he couldn’t accept was never seeing you again.

You lay in bed, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating your face as you watched a show you’d seen countless times before. It was your comfort show—the one thing keeping you grounded when everything else felt like it was crumbling.

“Hey, sweets.” One of your members peeked into your room, sitting down gently on the edge of your bed.

“You okay?” You nodded, not taking your eyes off the screen. She offered a faint smile before leaving, the quiet support of your group the only thing holding you together since you’d made the decision to leave Seungcheol.

You’d been distant lately, avoiding long conversations and emotional check-ins, knowing that if you let anyone crack the surface, the floodgates would open.

The vibration of your phone pulled you out of your thoughts. An unknown number flashed on the screen. You hesitated, letting it ring out. But then it rang again. Against your better judgment, you answered.

“Hello?”

The other end was silent for a moment, and then you heard a sigh of relief that made your chest tighten.

“Y/N…”

Your breath caught. That voice—deep, familiar, and aching with emotion. The voice you had been yearning to hear for months.

“Cheolie?” you whispered, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. It felt natural, like it always had, and the sound of it left Seungcheol momentarily speechless.

admit.

Seungcheol’s breath caught at the sound of his name on your lips. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed hearing it—how much he’d missed you.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak, overwhelmed by the weight of everything he wanted to say but unsure where to begin.

“Y/N,” he finally managed, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and the silence on your end made his heart race.

“I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness,” he continued quickly, desperate to fill the void.

“I messed up. I took you for granted, and I hate myself for it. You deserved so much better—better than my excuses, better than me forgetting, better than my silence. I should have been there for you, but I wasn’t.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you listened. His words struck a chord deep inside, reopening wounds you had tried to heal on your own.

Part of you wanted to hang up, to protect the fragile peace you had finally found. But another part—the part that still loved him—stopped you.

“Why now, Seungcheol?” you asked quietly, your voice trembling. “Why are you saying this now, when I’ve already started to let go?”

His heart shattered at your words, but he pressed on. “Because I won’t let go. I refuse. And I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I’ll do anything—anything—to make things right. Please, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you.”

You closed your eyes, the emotions swirling within you almost too much to bear. You had spent so long convincing yourself that walking away was the only way to protect yourself.

But now, hearing his voice, feeling the sincerity in his words, you realized the truth: you still loved him.

“Seungcheol,” you began hesitantly, “if I give you this chance… you have to show me that things will be different. I can’t go through that pain again.”

“I will,” he promised, his voice resolute. “I’ll show you every single day how much you mean to me. No more excuses. No more forgetting. Just us, the way it should’ve always been.”

You were silent for a moment, weighing your options, before letting out a soft sigh. “Okay, Cheol. One chance. Don’t waste it.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. “I won’t. I swear.”

-

From that moment on, Seungcheol kept his promise. He rearranged his schedule to make time for you, surprising you with thoughtful gestures that showed he was truly listening.

Even went as far as making arrangements from your companies to allow you to live together.

There, he started to write handwritten notes and slipped them into your bag. Then, he would show up to your practices with your favorite snacks, he left no doubt that you were his priority.

It wasn’t perfect—no relationship ever is—but together, you worked to rebuild what had been broken.

Slowly but surely, the walls you’d built around your heart began to crumble, replaced by the warmth and love that had drawn you to him in the first place.

And on the next Valentine’s Day, Seungcheol showed up at your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a heartfelt letter, reminding you that this time, he wouldn’t let go.

This time, he would love you the way you deserved—completely and unconditionally.

[starsinthesky5]

you belong with me ll || joe burrow x reader

description: you and Joe have been best friends ever since ohio state and you’ve been his biggest supporter for as long as you both could remember. it was always the same dynamic between you both, friends. very very very close friends. but what if you were more than just friends?

a/n: welcome to part 2! i really couldn’t stop writing this one so i had to split it up :) sorry this took a while!! 

warnings: language, mentions of sex

word count: 13.9 k

Part 1 Part 3

--------------------------------

A few days later 

You enter your apartment with tears flowing from your eyes. You throw your bag to the side and kick your shoes off before running over and face planting on your couch. You felt like absolute shit because of the day you had and your anxiety was through the roof. First, it was waking up to your period and dealing with deadly cramps while trying to get ready for work. Then, you got lectured by your Boss for being late to a work meeting because you had spent a few extra minutes in bed because of the cramps, and then you managed to take on a work project that you knew would be too much for you so you could make it up to your boss. Then, you managed to spill coffee all over your very new and expensive outfit. On top of that, the florist for your sister’s wedding–which was slowly approaching–had canceled last minute. You had taken on a lot of the planning duties for her wedding, which you now regret, and things were not going as planned. Everything just felt like it was crumbling. 

The thought of you and Joe’s relationship was also still lingering in your mind, you just wanted to know how he felt but didn’t want to push it, and it was driving you insane. So many thoughts were floating through your mind. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if this caused him to pull away from you? You couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to talk to Joe, not getting to hear his adorable laugh; but most importantly, not having the comfort of knowing you had a person in your life who would always stick by your side no matter what happened. But what if he did feel the same way? What if he had felt the same way all this time but you were too blind to see it? It was an endless battle in your mind and your curiosity was only getting worse by the day; it all could go away if you simply just talked to him, but you refused to push both of you into that situation. If it was going to happen, it would have to happen on its own. 

All you could think about was him. Joe was the only person who could make you feel butterflies and lovesick simultaneously. 

Lovesick. You were lovesick. You couldn’t think about anything other than Joe and your feelings for him, and it was causing you to spiral, falling into an abyss of feelings you thought you moved on from a long time ago.

“Ughhh,” you grumbled into the pillow. “Why did everything have to be so complicated?” You thought to yourself. You lifted your head from the pillow and reached for your phone, checking the time before you opened up your contacts, calling the only person who could turn your mood around, who you really needed to talk to. And as usual, he picked up in an instant.  

“Hey, Y/N,” Joe grinned as he was on the way home from practice. 

“H- Hey, Joe,” you said, trying to hide the fact that you were crying. 

He instantly noticed something was off by the way you sounded, and this was one of his greatest talents. He could always figure out when you were lying, hiding something, or crying by just hearing your voice. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his smile faltering.

“Y- Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you lie, trying to hide your emotions because you don’t want him to be worried.

“You sound..off,” he said as he pulled into his driveway. 

“Just tired,” you mumble. 

He sighed at your response and was a little mad that you wouldn’t tell him what was really wrong. You had a habit of always bottling up your feelings and never openly talking about them. When they built up, they would come out explosively in the form of a breakdown, and it was not pretty. Joe always had to tell you that it was alright to let them out even if it felt like a lot, but here you were, bottling them up again and not listening to his advice. 

“Damn, that sucks,” he said, sounding incredibly stand-off-ish on purpose. “Maybe take a nap?” he suggests as he texts his parents that he won’t be able to join them for dinner tonight, then types in the address of the nearest pizza spot by your apartment. If you weren’t gonna talk to him about what was really wrong, he was going to have to get it out of you himself. This, plus what happened a few days ago with how you randomly left his house early in the morning without explanation was starting to bother him. He needed you to open up and what better way to do so than with pizza, wine, and ice cream? Three of your most favorite things.

You flinch at his sudden change of tone. “Joe-” you begin to say before he cuts you off.

“Listen, I gotta go. I’m kinda busy right now so I’ll talk to you later. Get some rest,” he says before he hangs up, not giving you a second to respond. You move the phone out from your ear as tears pooled your eyes again. Even the one person who could make you feel better couldn’t talk to you right now, and that made you feel even more shitty. 

He felt terrible for being so rude to you, but he knew that what you needed was some comfort and leisure, not just another lecture from him like he usually would give when you got like this. 

You wiped the tears that fell from your eyes, mumbling “Jerk,” as you got up from the couch to go change into something comfy. You opted for another one of his hoodies, which was a few sizes too big, and a pair of leggings. Then, you did what he said to do which was take a nap. Maybe that would make you feel better since he was too occupied to talk to you for a few minutes.

An hour later

You were woken by the sound of your doorbell, your puffy eyes slowly adjusting to your room which was now dark. You rubbed your eyes as you got out of bed, not bothering to fix your disheveled appearance, and walked straight over to the door to see what it was. 

You wiped your nose and cheeks with the sleeve of the sweatshirt as you opened the door, your eyes widening at the sight of what, or who was standing at the door. 

“Hard day?” Joe asked with a gentle smile. You looked up at his face, then down to his hands which were holding a box of pizza from your favorite pizzeria, a bottle of pinot noir, and a tub of cookies and cream ice cream. 

Your eyes softened when you saw him. This was your biggest weakness. You could never stay mad at him for longer than a few hours, even shorter if you actually saw him in front of you, just like you did now. “Yeah,” you sigh before you open the door a little more to let him in. 

He smiled as he walked inside, placing all the stuff he had on the kitchen island. He noticed that you had his blue Nike sweatshirt on, the one he had been looking all over for because it was his favorite, but didn’t say anything because you had it, and that was perfectly fine. 

He turns around and sees you standing in front of him, looking incredibly defeated with your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He instantly grabs your arm and pulls you into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and another around your lower back. He held you incredibly close to his warm body, and you wanted him to never let go. 

“Jerk,” you murmur against his chest. 

“I’m sorry but I had to be a little jerky so I could do this,” he said softly, referring to his little surprise. “Did you really think I would’ve left you hanging like that?”.

“I meannn,” you drag out, teasing him as you look up at him. 

Joe gasped dramatically as he said, “I must really be lacking in the bestie department then,”.

“Mmph, please. If anything, you’ve set and exceeded the standards in the bestie department. You’re entering uncharted territory now,” you joke as you feel him rub your back, the warmth of his body making you forget all about your terrible day. 

“Oh really? What territory?” he questions as he looks down into your soft eyes.

“Boyfriend territory,” you say, feeling a pit of nervousness in your stomach because you didn’t know why you said that or how he would react to you saying that. It was pretty boyfriendish of him to drop what he was doing at the moment, which was probably getting ready for dinner with his parents which he so clearly was skipping for you, to come over with your favorite things in the hope of making you feel better. 

Joe swore his heart stopped when you said that. Boyfriend? He knew you were kidding, at least he thought you were, but the fact that you actually said it in regards to him was making his heart race. Were you calling him your boyfriend?

“I guess I’ll be setting the standards in the boyfriend department as well since nobody knows how to do that either,” he says, trying to act cool.

“Well, you’re setting them pretty high right now,” you smile as you break out from his embrace to examine the goodies he brought, letting out an internal sigh of relief that he didn’t say anything about basically telling him he was acting like your boyfriend. Little did you know that Joe didn’t just want to set the standards in the boyfriend department, he wanted to be the standard, and go above and beyond it for you. 

“You’re literally the best person ever for this,” you say as you get a whiff of the delicious pizza. 

“Nothing a good pizza, wine, and dessert trio can’t fix,” he shrugs as he walks over to the cabinets to grab plates and glasses.

“Are you drinking the wine too? Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” You ask as you grab the food and bring it over to the couch. 

“Nah, it’s optional tomorrow so I probably won’t go,” he says as he brings over the plates.

“Sooo that means you have time?” You ask as you jump on the couch with a grin on your face. 

“Yeah, I have time,” he chuckles as he puts the stuff down and joins you on the couch.

“Can we watch Pitch Perfect?” you ask, sticking your bottom lip out.

“Again? I swear to god I’ve seen that movie 30 times with you,” he grimaces.

“You can never get tired of the Barden Bellas, Joey. Just accept it,” you chuckle as you turn on the movie.

“Whatever you say,” he laughs, getting up from the couch and pouring you both a glass of wine. 

An hour later, you both are full from the delicious pizza and slightly tipsy from the wine. The movie is still playing in the background as you both are digging into the delicious ice cream. 

“Mm, this is soo good,” you groan as you take another bite.

“Told you. Ice cream makes everything better,” he shrugs as he takes another spoonful and shoves it into his mouth. 

“You make everything better. This ice cream is just a minor addition,” you say, giving him a loaded look before going back to the ice cream.

He stops eating the frozen dessert and turns over so that his whole body faces you. “You still didn’t tell me what happened,”.

You shove the spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, slowly removing the spoon from your mouth as you hear him talk. 

“I know you were lying earlier,” he says, raising his eyebrow. 

“Can’t ever hide anything from you, Can I?” You chuckle as you put the spoon down and turn so that your whole body is facing him, tucking your legs under you as you sit up on your knees. 

“Even if you tried,” he smiles.

You let out a deep breath before running your fingers through your hair. “I just had a really shitty day and my head feels like it’s ready to explode,”.

He reaches over and grabs your hand, entwining your fingers before giving it a gentle squeeze. “What happened?”. 

“Well first, I’m on my period so I literally feel like I’m about to die,” you say.

“Good thing I brought ice cream then,” he chuckles.

“Like I said, you’re the best person ever. Anyway, then I was a bit late to a work meeting because of the cramps and my boss absolutely berated me for it. So then to soften the blow, I told her I would take on this project for next month but I’m definitely way in over my head with it and I haven’t even really looked into it. And then I spilled coffee all over my very expensive outfit which I just bought last week,” you sigh. 

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said, giving you a look that told you he was being serious and not just trying to make you feel better.

“You don’t have to,” you giggle. “This was more than enough,” you say, pointing over at the empty pizza box and wine glasses.

“Mmm, it wasn’t but continue,” he says.

You playfully roll your eyes and continue, “And then worst of all, the florist for Kaylee’s wedding canceled and the wedding is in 3 weeks. I don’t know why I took on so many planning responsibilities because I feel like I’m drowning and I really don’t want to screw up her wedding,”. You feel tears pool in your eyes again, feeling another wave of anxiety come over you. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Joe soothes while rubbing your hands, noticing that you started to get antsy again. “You’re not going to screw anything up,”.

“Really? Because it feels like I’m screwing up everything,” you say, tensing up. You were partly referring to the wedding, but also about you and Joe’s friendship which you were at risk of ruining because of your emotions. You would always try to talk to Joe about your feelings no matter what they were, but this time you couldn’t even if it was when you needed to the most. 

“Are we still talking about the wedding?” He asks, feeling a change in what you were talking about based on your demeanor. 

“I don’t even know anymore,” you say as you start to cry. “I just have so many thoughts going through my head right now that I don’t even know what’s really making me act like this,”. You felt hot tears streaming down your cheeks again as you started to shake a little. 

Joe felt awful seeing you like this. He still felt like you weren’t telling him everything, but he didn’t want to push you if you really didn’t want to talk about it, especially if it was making you act like this. He hated seeing you upset and the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes broke his heart. 

“Come here,” he mumbles as he reaches out for your arm, pulling you on top of him and in for a hug. 

You shoved your head into the crook of his neck almost like it was a reflex, letting out another sigh as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I’m here if you need anything. I’m always here and I’m not going anywhere,” he says as he rubs your back. Joe always had a way of alleviating your pain, knowing exactly how to bring you down if you were stuck on a dark cloud. Whether it was his promising words or his pacifying hugs, he could always make you ignore your worries.  

“Thanks for always being here,” you sniffle against his neck. 

“I’m always going to be here,” he says before pressing two soft kisses on your forehead, which is new. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” he smirks. 

Your heart fluttered when you felt him press his lips against your skin. He’d never done that before, even when you had breakdowns worse than this. Was he just being sweet or was this something else? 

All he wanted to do was to take your pain and anxiety away. He still wasn’t sure what was making you act like this, surely it wasn’t just a bad day at work, so what was it? Was it connected to how you randomly sneaked out of his house a few days ago without telling him you were leaving? 

“No, No, No. Enough with the investigation. She needs her best friend right now,” Joe thought to himself as he went back to comforting you. He looked down and saw you clutching onto his bicep as your head stayed in the crook of his neck, feeling your shallow breaths and teardrops. You felt his hand move to the back of your head, his fingers moving through your hair and gently rubbing your head. 

“You’re okay,” he soothes. “Everything’s going to work out for the better on its own. I promise,” he says. You really couldn’t see how everything would work out on its own, but his words were incredibly convincing. 

A few minutes later, the once-flowing tears had now dried up and your breathing had returned back to normal. You stayed in his comfortable embrace for a little longer, relishing the peace and warmth it was providing. The warmth radiating off of his body felt like a safety blanket, just like how it felt when you were cuddling him a few nights ago at his house.

“You’re so comfy,” you mutter against his neck. “My personal body pillow,”. 

“You can use me anytime you want,” he says, pulling you in tighter. 

You smile at his words and then press a kiss to his neck, not really sure why, but it felt right. 

Joe froze when he felt you kiss his neck. You’d never done that before, ever. His heartbeat picked up and his palms started to get sweaty, and you could feel it. Was that because of you? Were you making him nervous? 

Then and there he felt like telling you how he felt. He wanted to tell you that it was going to be alright, that he loved you more than anything in the universe and would always be here for you in every way possible, and that you belonged with him. But he didn’t because he didn’t want to do this now, it didn’t feel right. He wasn’t going to do that to you right now when you needed comfort more than anything. No reason to push those feelings onto you and cause you to get worked up again. 

“Thank you for doing this. I know today was your weekly dinner with your parents so I appreciate you skipping it for me,” you say, pulling your head out of his neck and meeting his soft eyes. 

“You remembered?” He asked, a little surprised that you remembered his weekly dinners with his parents.

“Of course, I remembered. You’ve been having weekly dinners with them since you got drafted, same day every week,” you grin. “But seriously, thank you for doing this. You always know how to make me feel better,”.

“It’s my job,” he shrugs. 

“Well, you deserve a promotion because you’re doing amazing,” you smile as you move his hair out from his eyes. You stare at him for a few seconds, taking in every detail about his face. His perfect ski slope nose was a little red because of the cold weather, his deep blue eyes that you wanted to get lost in, the little scruff on his chin that you wanted to feel against your body, and his adorable smile lit up the entire room. Everything about him was perfect. He was perfect, and you wanted him so badly. 

“You still owe me an explanation for why you snuck out of my house that morning,” he said, snapping you out of your daze as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. 

“Ohh, uhh. I thought I told you. Lydia needed my help getting ready for her brunch date,” you lie. “She was freeaaaking out. So she picked me up and we went back to my place to get her ready,”.

Joe knew you were lying. The tone of your voice gave it away but also since he asked Lydia. He asked her if you were alright after you texted him saying she picked you up for morning Pilates since she didn’t want to go alone. Joe didn’t understand why you were lying to him, but he also didn’t want to ask you since he had just gotten you to relax and didn’t need you to get anxious again. 

“Ah, I see,” he says. You let out an internal sigh of relief at his response since it seemed like he believed you. 

“Next time, wake me up because that felt awfully like a walk of shame,” he teased, making you blush and squirm in his arms. 

“That’ll be the first walk of shame that happened even though the pair in question didn’t do anything scandalous,” you giggled. 

“Tell that to my neighbors,” Joe mumbled as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“What?” you shrieked as you moved out of his arms, a look of confusion on your face. 

“Yeahhh, they saw you run out of the house and mentioned it to me when I was taking out the trash,” he said as he nervously wiped his hands on his thighs.

“Oh my god. Which neighbor?” you cringed, covering your face with the sleeves of his your hoodie. 

“Mrs. Nelson,” he laughed, knowing that you were scared of her. Something about that woman’s eyes sent chills up your spine whenever you would see her. You saw her most evenings when you were leaving Joe’s house, and she looked like she was judging you every single time. 

“She said, ‘Joey, I know that you young men have needs, but could you at least tell her to put on some pants before darting out the door bright and early in the morning. Some of the neighbors have kids that like to be out early,” Joe said in a girly voice. 

“Oh my god,” you whined against your hands. “Did you at least correct her?” you asked as you moved your hands from your face.

Joe looked around the room with a smug look on his face, avoiding your eyes which told you everything you needed to know.

“Joseph Lee!” you screamed as you got up from the couch and started hitting him with a pillow. 

“Hey, it was funny,” he laughed as he held up his hands to protect himself from your swings. 

“I’m not laughing,” you said, trying to hide your smile. Truth be told, it was pretty funny.  

“Okayy, we’re not about to do this again,” Joe says as he gets off the couch.

“Why? Because you manhandled last time and ended up under me?” you smirk as you twirl the pillow around. 

“Because this time, you’ll be the one under me,” he teases, giving you a wink. Your stomach did a backflip and the room felt like it got 10 degrees hotter because of his alluring words. The wine was definitely doing its thing right now, for both of you. Words came out of his mouth that he would never say to you, and you weren’t even thinking twice about them. For once, you didn’t overanalyze his words and went straight back to the conversation.

“That’s it!” you giggle as you start hitting him with the pillow again, but he retaliates by reaching down and swooping you off your feet. He throws you over his shoulder, resting one of his hands extremely close to your ass on purpose. He knew exactly what he was doing right now, and you were loving every second of it even though you could barely process it.

“Joe, let go of me,” you laugh as he makes his way through your apartment with you over his shoulder. 

“How does it feel to get manhandled, Hm?” he smiles as he kicks open your room door, gently tossing you down onto the bed as you let out a soft yawn.

“Extremely Comfy,” you smile back as he kneels on the bed to hover over you. He places both of his hands on each side of your head, caging you in; this position feels a little too coupley. His hair was falling into his eyes as his big body was shielding you from the overhead light of your room, almost creating a cocoon around you. 

“Hi,” you whisper, staring deeply into his gentle eyes that were now a shade of deep blue, just like the ocean. 

“Hi,” he chuckles. His lips were just inches from yours and he had the urge to crash his lips down on yours and kiss you like he had been wanting to do all these years. 

Similarly, you felt like reaching up and pushing his face down onto yours, capturing his perfect lips in a soft kiss. Both of you had the same thought but neither of you knew that. 

“You look pretty,” Joe mumbled as he moved a few strands of hair behind your ear before moving his hand back to where it was, setting fireworks off in your heart.

“I don’t but thanks for lying,” you say as you fist one of your hands into his hair, playing with the strands. 

“Please. You always look pretty, Y/N. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he adds, feeling lovestruck at the sight of you giggling underneath him. Your eyes sparkle in the light, your skin glowing, and your once puffy eyes are now back to normal. His stomach was doing backflips as he realized he was on top of you right now, in a position that wasn’t generally friendly, but you didn’t seem to be bothered by it; just like how you seemed when you were on top of him a few nights ago. 

The pit of nervousness in your stomach was back as your breathing intensified. Your palms started to feel sweaty while your face felt hotter than usual. There was no way that this was a friendly interaction right? He was literally on top of you, inches from your face, and had the same exact look he had on his face on the way home from the Christmas party a few days ago, lovestruck. 

“Thank you for coming over tonight,” you said, your eyes not moving from his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,”.

“I told you, I'm always going to be here for you and I mean it. You’ve always been there for me when I needed someone and I couldn’t be more grateful for you. When the most special & important girl in my life needs someone, I'm there. Anytime, Any place,” he says, his face moving closer to yours. 

The most special and important girl in his life, he said. He was talking about you and only you and that was the cherry on top that sealed the deal. 

“I know that even if everything in my life fades, including football and the people I’ve met along the way, I know that you’ll always be there no matter what,”.

Your stomach was in knots right now. You wanted to scream and cry right now because of his words–but out of happiness and not despair. You felt like you were being transported back to college right now, experiencing those new feelings of excitement when you realized you had a crush on someone. Back in college, you felt those feelings of excitement about Joe. And years later, those feelings of excitement were still calling his name. 

Love. That was it. You were in love with Joe. You have been in love with him since you two were just a couple of silly college kids trying to get through young adulthood together. Those feelings that you thought were momentary and situational, were permanent and eternal. And now that you two were grown up, it was clear how you felt about him. You had avoided those feelings for too long, and they only got stronger as the moments passed by. No wonder none of your past relationships would ever work out. The right person was in front of you this entire time and has been there for as long as you can remember.

Screw letting things happen naturally. You couldn’t take it anymore. You were on the verge of screaming how you felt about him at the top of your lungs. You had to tell Joe what you were feeling even if it was right now, completely out of the blue. 

“Joe I-,” you start to say before the sound of his phone ringing interrupts you. 

You watch as he closes his eyes and sighs, “Hang on,” he says as he moves off of you and takes his phone out of his pocket. 

“It’s my mom. You good if I take this?” He asks you. 

“Yeah, of course. Tell her I said Hey,” you smile. You watch as he fixes his hair and walks out of your room, shutting your door and leaving you alone with your thoughts.  

You couldn’t believe that you were so close to telling him how you felt. So, so, so close. You loved him more than anything in the world and now that you realized it, you wanted him to be yours, and only yours. 

“I love him,” you whispered to yourself as you stuffed your face into a pillow to hide the blood rushing into your cheeks. You started kicking your feet back and forth, feeling exactly how you did in college when you first realized you liked Joe. It felt like pure teenage innocence. He was the only man you had ever loved now that you thought about it. Yes, you had said those 3 words to other men before, but you never meant it like you did with Joe. 

“Hey Mom,” Joe says as he sits down on the couch.

“Hey Sweetie. Everything alright? You didn’t really explain why you had to miss dinner tonight?” She says.

“Sorry about that. Y/N had a really bad day and I’m over at her place right now,” Joe said as he looked over to your side table, spotting a picture frame that had a photo of the two of you. The photo was of you two after the AFC championship game in 2022 that sent the Bengals to their first Super Bowl in years. You were clutching onto his waist, your head leaning on his chest and a huge smile plastered on your face as you were looking up at him. Joe had his arm around your shoulder and was in the middle of putting his championship hat on your head. Both of you were surrounded by tons of people, but the only thing you could focus on was each other. The candid photo captured both of your sentiments perfectly. 

Flashback to 2022 

You were waiting on the sidelines, taking in the moment as much as you could before you went over to celebrate with Joe. The Bengals had just beat the Chiefs, 27-24, and were on their way to the Super Bowl for the first time in years. You got an intense feeling of Deja vu as you watched Joe’s teammates lift him up on their shoulders, just like how they did when he won the Natty. You were lucky enough to be by his side for both of these significant moments and now you’d be by his side on the grandest stage of them all. 

“I’m so proud of him,” Robin said as she wrapped her arm around your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. 

“You and me both,” you whispered, a smile creeping up on your face as you made eye contact with Joe, his smile somehow getting bigger. 

His mom looks over at him and follows his intense gaze right over to you, smiling at the way he is looking at you. “Go over there,” she encourages as she lets go and lightly pushes you. 

“I’ll be back,” you smile at her before making your way onto the field. 

Joe walked over to you and met you halfway, an evident bounce in his step reflecting the happiness he felt right now. “Hey there Mr. AFC Champ,” you giggle as you pull down your beanie a little more to protect your head from the cold January air. 

He doesn’t say anything back, instead just wraps his arms around you and pulls you in for a big hug, swaying you back and forth. 

“Hey, watch the outfit,” you murmur against his warm neck. He was definitely wrinkling up your dark orange sweater with his big, sweaty, grassy, but warm body. 

“Screw your outfit,” he laughs as he pulls away from the hug. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” you smile. “We got bigger things to talk about,”.

“Oh really? Wonder what it could be?” Joe smirks. 

“I’m getting a major sense of Deja vu right now,” you say, your eyes navigating up to his head which was covered by the championship hat, your mind going back to the sight of the National Championship hat on his head in 2020.  

He suddenly pulls you back into his chest, this time squeezing you even harder. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers.

“Well, you better believe it. I’m so fucking proud of you, Joe,” you say, moving your head so that you were looking up at him, tears starting to pool in your eyes. Words wouldn’t be enough to describe how proud you were of him at this moment. His first full NFL season resulting in his first Super Bowl appearance was incredible, truly magical. You watched for months as he worked his ass off to rehab his knee and get back to where he needed to be, and getting to see all of his hard work pay off was the most fulfilling part of it all.

“You did amazing out there today, I seriously have never seen anything like this,” you sputter. 

He looked down at you, meeting your shiny eyes with his baby blues. His eyes moved to the beanie on the top of your head, and then you felt it being pulled off of your head. Your hair was flying everywhere as you watched him throw it down to the ground, your head now felt incredibly bare and cold. 

“Hey, My beanie!” You yelled as you looked at it on the ground. You looked back up at him with a scowl, “What was that for?”.

“So I could do this,” he says as you watch him take the hat off of his head, your smile coming back to your face instantly as you feel his hand slide along your waist. He places his hat on your head, giving your head a few pats to make sure it’s secure. Joe’s mom snapped a few photos of the adorable interaction, neither of you noticing her presence a few feet away from you. 

“If I’m Mr. Champ, then you’re Mrs. Champ,” he laughed. 

“Mrs?” You laughed as you raised your eyebrow. “Don’t see a ring to prove it,” you add as you pretend to look intensively at your fingers. You were trying to keep it cool, definitely not trying to act like you were doing backflips internally at the mention of being ‘Mrs.’. You knew he was just joking, but your heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sound of being his ‘Mrs.’.

“Ring will hopefully be coming February 13th, 2022,” he sighed. 

“Damnnn. So we’re talking about that kinda ring?” You teased, pretending to look disappointed.

“What did you think?” He smirked, knowing exactly what kinda of ring you were talking about. It was his fault for saying ‘Mrs.’, implying you were his wife, but he always enjoyed the playful back and forth. 

“Ya know, Princess cut? Emerald cut? But I guess a Super Bowl ring will do just fine,” you say while rolling your eyes playfully.

“Maybe you’ll get two,” Joe shrugs as he lets go of you. 

“Proposing without even dating the girl?” you say as you raise your eyebrow, straightening out your sweater which had a few grass marks on it from his jersey. 

“Well, if the girl already knows anything and everything there is to know about me, and I know anything and everything about the girl, then it’s easy to skip the ‘getting to know each other’ phase,” he laughs. 

“Relentless,” you chuckle while shaking your head; your heart still soaring at the flirty back and forth that you two would often have. Sometimes it would be silly, sometimes serious, but often flirty; but that never weirded either of you out for some reason. 

You turn your head to the side, realizing it wasn’t just the two of you out there and that you were surrounded by many other people who wanted a chance to talk to Joe. This would happen a lot, especially in these kind of moments. You two would find each other in a crowded room, and once you were face to face, everything around you would fade away, leaving just the two of you there, together. 

“I think I’ve kept you long enough,” you say, feeling a little shy that this whole interaction happened around so many people, many of whom were probably not even paying attention, but to your overthinking mind, they were. “You probably want to go celebrate with the guys anyway,” you say, looking down at your boots. 

A scoff leaves his mouth, “And leave you? Never,” he says as he gives you a loaded look. 

“That’s sweet but they’re your guys,” you say as you look back up.

“And you’re my girl,” Joe says, instantly turning tomato red as he realizes what he just said to you. That wasn’t supposed to come out of his mouth. He watches you flinch, your face tensing up at the awkward moment that just happened. 

“Not like that,” he quickly retreats, scrambling to make sure he didn’t just make you uncomfortable.

You stay quiet for a few heartbeats, his anxiety getting worse by the second. But then you let out a laugh and cover your mouth to hide your big smile, “I know what you mean,”. He lets out a sigh of relief, his mind cooling back down but your insides were still as hot as ever. Being ‘his girl’ didn’t sound so bad. 

“But seriously, you probably have tons of media and stuff to do right now since you’re now Super Bowl-bound, so I’ll leave you to it,” you say as you pull him in for another hug, sliding your hand up and down his back. 

“I’ll come find you later, I promise,” he whispers into your ear, sending chills down your spine and butterflies in your stomach. 

You pull away and say, “I thought you and the guys would go out or something?”.

“They are but I wanna take you and my parents out for dinner or something,” He smiles. “I want to celebrate with the most significant people in my life,”.

“I won’t fight you on that,” you beam as you stare deeply into his soothing eyes. 

End of flashback 

“Well aren’t you a good friend,” His mom says over the phone, snapping Joe out of his trance. 

“Yeahh,” he nervously chuckles, his mom instantly noticing his awkward tone. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she sighs.

Joe goes silent, he knows that he can’t hide anything from his Mom but still tries. He heaves out a sigh before getting straight to the point. “I like her. Like a lot. Like I love her,” he says quietly, making sure you didn’t overhear.

He hears his mom laugh over the phone, his brows furrowed at the response he gets. “About damn time!”.

“What?” he questions. “It’s about time you admitted it. I think everyone knows that you’ve had a thing for Y/N since Ohio State, Joe,” she smiles.

“Oh god. Is it that obvious?” he whispers, making sure that you don’t hear him. 

“Mhm. Obvious to everyone but the two of you,” she replies, causing Joe’s eyes to widen. 

“What do I do, Mom? I want to tell her but I feel like it’ll screw it all up if she doesn’t feel the same,”.

“Just talk to her, Joey. I know she feels the same way about you. I have seen the way she looks at you, talks about you, and acts around you. She loves you, just like you do her. Your girl has been in front of you this entire time,” she advises. 

“I told myself I’d let things happen naturally, but I just can’t keep it in anymore,” Joe sighs, throwing his head back to the pillow. 

“Naturally? Sweetie, you’ve been letting things happen naturally for nearly what, 9 years? You’ve been tip-toeing around each other for entirely too long. You both are grown adults now and I personally think it won’t hurt to give it a shot, especially since I think that it’ll turn out to be the best thing for both of you. She’s a wonderful girl and the effect she has on you is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and the same goes for the effect you have on her. That’s true love,” his mom adds. “Just simply talk to her,”. 

And Joe took that advice to heart. His mom was right, he just had to talk to you. He never had trouble talking to you about anything before, you were always receptive and understanding. Talking to you about his feelings shouldn’t be so difficult, especially if there was a chance that you felt the same way. 

You got up from your bed, a little concerned since Joe hadn’t come back to the room yet. You opened your door and walked outside to him staring up at the ceiling. 

“Hey, you alright?” you asked as you leaned against the wall. 

Joe sits up straight when he hears your voice and quickly tries to recollect himself so that you don’t suspect that something is wrong. 

“Yeah, she just was asking about why I skipped dinner and if you were alright,” he said. 

“Ohh,” you nodded. If that was all they were talking about, why did Joe look so flustered? 

“Well, I hope you told her that I’m fantastic now all thanks to her son who knows how to flip someone’s mood around better than he knows how to make french toast,” you tease.

“I only burnt them once,” he scoffed as his jaw fell open.

“It was definitely a little more than that,” you said as you moved from the wall to the kitchen, grabbing him a water bottle. “We can try again tomorrow morning and see if you’ve gotten any better,” you laughed. 

“Tomorrow Morning?” Joe asked.

“Yeah. It’s getting pretty late and since you don’t have practice tomorrow, I was thinking you could stay over?” you said as you handed him the bottle. You were hoping and praying he would stay.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” he says as he takes the bottle from you, his thumb lightly touching your fingers which sends electricity through your body.

“Intrude on what? It’s just me,” you grinned. “The only thing is, the ‘guest bedroom’ is my storage room so we’d have to share my bed,”.

“It worked out pretty well last time,” Joe softly laughed as he got up from the couch. 

“So you’ll stay?” you perk up, trying to hold back from looking too happy.

“Come on,” he smiles, grabbing your hand and leading you to your room. Both of you were trying to hold back from saying something to each other about your feelings that you were both now certain of, and both of your faces were showing it. You were like two lovestruck teenagers. 

A few minutes later, Joe settled into your bed while you were changing into your Pajamas. His heartbeat only got faster by the second now that he was thinking of when the right moment to talk to you was. Was right now a good time or was it too sudden? You were probably tired anyway, so maybe the next time you see each other would be better. 

He watched as you came out of the bathroom in a short-sleeved Ohio State Football shirt, one of his, and shorts, looking absolutely angelic. He wondered how many of his clothes had piled up in your closet over the years. 

“Do you need anything before I turn off the lights?” You ask him while you plug in your phone.

“I’m good,” he lazily smiles as he pulls the covers up.

You nod, turn the lights off, and slide into the bed next to Joe. You weren’t nervous this time like you were a few nights ago. Maybe it was because you actually came to a conclusion about your feelings for him or maybe it was because he was in your bed and not the other way around. 

“Night, Joey,” you yawn as you look over at him.

“Night, Y/N,” he smiles as he closes his eyes. 

An hour later 

He couldn’t sleep. He tried and tried but he couldn’t fall asleep. He looked over at you, your eyes closed and soft snores coming from your mouth. His mind was still racing and it wouldn’t stop, and you being asleep right next to him wasn’t helping. Nothing about what happened tonight was helping. It was like he was on the verge of exploding because he couldn’t keep it in any longer, and he’d never ever felt like this before, and it was all because of you. 

He turned over to face you, your hair was sprawled out against the pillow, some strands on your face, and your breathing was steady. He moved his hand to move the stray stands out of your face, but as soon as he did, you started moving. He quickly moved his hand away from your face and turned back to face the ceiling, closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. 

He felt you move around a little more before he felt weight on his arm. He opened his eyes and slowly looked over at you to see you resting your head against his bicep. 

“Y/N?” he whispered.

No response. You were definitely still asleep.

He carefully moved his arm out from underneath your head and allowed you to move into him. You turned so that you were on your stomach but still pressed against his chest. You draped your leg over his and pressed your head against his chest and his arms settled around you, holding you close. He tried to even out his breathing, which was increasing because of your movements. You were cuddling him right now, just like how he was cuddling you a few nights ago. This time, your warm body was providing him comfort and security. 

A few moments later, he had gotten a little more comfy, now feeling a wave of sleepiness come over him. He looked down at you, smiling at the fact that you were doing this naturally and completely in your sleep, like a reflex. He pressed a few soft kisses to the top of your head before looking up at the ceiling. 

You were right there. You had always been right there, he thought to himself. 

“I love you,” Joe whispered to you as he closed his eyes. 

Saturday - The Day before Joe’s Birthday 

The rest of the week had gone by pretty smoothly and you had Joe to thank for that. The morning after Joe stayed over, he helped you track down a new florist for your sister’s wedding. He pulled some strings to help you get the florist on such short notice, and naturally, it worked as nobody could say no to Joe Burrow. Then, he pulled out your laptop and helped you look through your work project. Going through it with him definitely helped you feel calmer about it since two minds were looking at it instead of 1. Even though his brain was wired to be a quarterback, he still had some knowledge about finance in his head from college which came to your advantage. He told you that if you ever felt like it was too much, to just let your Boss know, and if she ever had an issue with you, he would talk to her personally and let her know how much stress you’ve been under lately. 

He always put in so much thought when it came to you, and you could never seem to fully grasp it. He even went online and ordered you a bunch of new, very expensive, clothes to make up for the outfit that you destroyed because of your spilled coffee. He always thought of everything and hit every corner. The only thing that was now left to be sorted out was telling him how you felt about him, and you couldn’t wait to tell him. 

Today, you spent most of the day wrapping gifts for Joe as his birthday was tomorrow. The Bengals were playing Monday Night Football at home, so for once he was free on his special day. Even though he told you he didn’t want anything, you obviously didn’t listen to him. He always went above and beyond for your birthday, and you wanted to do the same for him as much as you could. 

You hit all the corners when it came to getting him birthday gifts this year. The first thing you got him was a funny Squidward sweatshirt, a character with whom Joe shared a lot of similarities. You thought it was so endearing that he still watched SpongeBob, especially now that he’s a 27-year-old millionaire, but he still found comfort in the things that made him who he was. The next thing you got him was the Lego Porche set he had been dying to get his hands on, but was extremely hard to find. You searched every Lego store in the vicinity before you found it in a rare collectibles store downtown. Joe loved Legos, another thing about him that was incredibly precious to you. That man could spend hours in a room building a Lego set when he could, and you were often there to help him. The next thing you got him was a new pair of Cartier Shades. They were a pretty penny, but he deserved to be spoiled on his birthday, and this was just the thing for him. The final thing you got him, maybe your most favorite, was a Night Sky Map from January 13th 2020, the night he won the CFP National Championship. For a man who loved space and anything related to it, this was the perfect gift. The Map showed the exact position of the stars at the time LSU had won the game at the Mercedes Benz Superdome. 

“Perfect,” you smiled as you looked at the Map. You finished wrapping the gift and placed it on the counter with the rest of them. You then pulled out your phone to text Joe and see what his plans were for tomorrow. 

You: hey there birthday boy!! what ya up to tomorrow?

Joe: hey y/n :) nothing really. prob watching some film and relaxing before the game on Monday

Your jaw dropped when he told you his plans. There was no way he was spending his birthday alone, boarded up inside of his house. 

You: joe….

Joe: yes?

You: your birthday is tomorrow 

Joe: i’m well aware lol

You: care to explain why you are spending your birthday alone? 

Joe: my parents and some of the guys were pushing me to do a dinner or something but I told them I just wanted to focus on the game and rest the day before

That was a reasonable excuse, but you were not about to let him spend his special day all alone. Especially since usually, he would have a game on his birthday. 

You: that’s fair but this is your first free birthday in a longgg time. don’t you wanna do something fun?

Joe: fun can wait until the season ends 

Hmm, this was going to be harder than you thought. He really wasn’t going to do anything fun on his birthday, was he? 

Suddenly, you had a lightbulb moment. It would be pretty lame if you told him you were going to come over for a bit to celebrate with him, so what about a surprise? You could lie to him and say you would be out of town tomorrow, but back for the MNF game, and surprise him at his house. You could bake him his favorite dessert, order his favorite food, and bring everything over to his house along with his gifts.

You: if you say soooo. but just so you know, i’ll be out of town all day but i’ll be back for the game on Monday. i have some gifts for you that i can give you after the game :)

Joe’s smile dropped as he read the text. He was hoping you would say that you were going to come over to keep him company on his birthday, which he deep down did not want to spend alone. He couldn’t show that he was unhappy that you weren’t going to see him on his birthday, so he pretended to act like it was alright. 

Joe: no biggie :) i’ll see you in the suite monday?

You: definitely. wouldn’t miss it for the world ;)

You felt bad about lying to him, knowing that he was probably sitting there thinking about how he had to spend his birthday alone. Of course, he needed to relax and focus, but nobody really wanted to spend their birthday alone. And he wasn’t going to, even if he thought he was. 

A smile crept onto your face as you thought about tomorrow. Maybe you could even finish telling him what you were going to say to him a few nights ago. 

Sunday - Joe’s Birthday 

You walked over to the oven, pulling out the fresh Pumpkin Pie you had baked for Joe earlier. You placed it onto the counter to cool as you heard your apartment doorbell ring from what was probably the food delivery person. 

You walked over to the door, greeted the delivery person, and grabbed the food; cajun from Joe’s favorite NOLA-inspired restaurant downtown. After placing the food on the counter next to the pie, you bring over the bag of gifts and set it next to everything, giving everything another check to make sure it was perfect.

“Food, drinks, pie, gifts…” you list off as you feel like you’re forgetting something. 

“Balloons!” you chirp as you speed walk into your room to grab the balloons you got him last night. After bringing the balloons over to the rest of the items you had for his little birthday surprise, you gave everything another check, and this time it was all perfect.

A few minutes later, your car was all loaded up with his birthday surprise and you were on his way to his house. You were bobbing your head along to the song playing on the aux, “You Belong With Me”. 

“If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, Been here all along, so why can't you see? You belong with me, you belong with meee,” you sing, a huge smile plastered on your face as your mind strays to the only man it could ever wander to. “He’s gonna love this,” you say as you bite your lip in anticipation. 

20 minutes later, you pull into his driveway, watching as the sun sets over the horizon. You quickly turned off your car, hopped out of your car, and grabbed the balloons from the backseat. After taking a few deep breaths to calm your excitement with the balloons in hand, you make your way over to his door, but to just your luck, someone spotted you. Of course, it was Mrs. Nelson who seemingly was coming back home after her evening walk. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. You slowly walk closer to his door, and her eyes tracking you as you try not to look at her. You see her shake her head from the corner of your eye and let out a small chuckle, prompting her to clear her throat out of rudeness. You pause at the steps to his door, plaster a fake smile onto your face, and turn to say “Hi, Mrs. Nelson,”. 

The peculiar woman doesn’t respond and just shakes her head again before turning around and walking into her house. “Damn, tough crowd,” you laugh as you walk up the steps to his door. You press his doorbell, waiting for a few moments as you begin to think about how you are going to tell him about your feelings, but before you can get too deep into those thoughts, the door swings open. 

“Y/N?” Joe says, his jaw practically on the floor. 

You leap into his arms and pull him in for a warm hug, “Happy Birthdayyyy!” you squeal as you sway him back and forth. 

“I thought you–” he begins to say before you pull out of the hug to interrupt him. 

“You believed me?” you say as you gently push his shoulder. “I would never leave you alone on your birthday goofball,”.

“I seriously thought you weren’t coming,” he says as he scratches the back of his neck

“Damn. I’m for sure lacking in the bestie department then,” you giggle.

“Please, you have fully broken through the ceiling of the bestie department and are entering dangerous territory,” he teases, echoing your words from a few days ago. 

“Oh yeah? What territory?” you ask, raising your eyebrow.

“Girlfriend territory,” he teases as he watches your face turn a little red. Your heart skips a beat when he says the word ‘girlfriend’. Is this how he felt when you said he was entering boyfriend territory a few nights ago?

“Come inside,” he says, breaking you out of your trance. “It’s cold out here,”.

“Hang on, I have all your stuff inside the car,” you say as you hand him the balloons. 

“What stuff?” he asks.

“Your birthday stuff, duhh,” you giggle as you quickly turn around to grab everything from the car. 

Joe shakes his head and laughs as he watches you scurry over to your car, and then struggle to grab everything all in one go. “You need help?” he yells.

“Nope! I got it,” you yell back.

A few minutes later 

You let out a breath as you finally make it inside with everything for his surprise, then slip off your shoes before walking over to Joe who was examining everything.

“Damn, when the hell did you do all this?” He asked.

“I’ll never spill my secrets,” you chuckle as you take everything out of the bags. His heart was soaring because of you. You really did all of this just for him, making him feel the the most special guy on the planet. 

He watches as you take out the food, his face lighting up as he reads the name of the restaurant on the boxes.

“Cajun?” He asks.

“You know it,” you wink. 

You then carefully take out the pumpkin pie from the bag, setting it next to the delicious dinner.

“And pumpkin pie?!” He says, his eyes widening.

“I know you love my pumpkin pie so naturally I had to make it for National Joe-Day,” you giggle.

“You’re the best,” he said as he grabbed your hand from across the kitchen island, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I know,” you gloat.

His eyes then navigated to the other bag on the table, the one with his gifts. He reaches over to open the bag, but you quickly swat his hand away.

“Mmm nope. No gifts until after dinner,” you say to him like he was a little child. 

“But it’s my birthday,” he pouts. 

“Food first then the fun stuff,” you say as you give him a look.

“Fine,” he says, rolling his eyes and then grinning at the smile that appeared on your face.  

An hour later 

“Mmm, that was so good,” Joe said as he downed his bottle of water. You’re both full of the delicious Cajun food, reminding you both of the taste of New Orleans. 

“Literally. We gotta go down to New Orleans soon for the real deal,” you say as you clean up your dinner plates and load them into his dishwasher. 

“I’ll book us a trip for this summer,” he smiles as he takes a seat on the couch where you join him with two plates of pie. A smile on your face when you hear him mention going down there with you. 

“Is it gift time?” Joe asks, already reaching for the bags.

“Wait!” You say as you stop his hand. “Take a bite of the pie first,”.

“Why?” He asks.

“It’s technically your birthday cake,” you shrug.

You watch as Joe just continues to stare at you, not really caring much about the formality of it all. “Please, For me?” You pout.

“Anything for you,” he states, grabbing the plates of pie and placing them in front of you. You grab your fork, breaking off a piece of the pie and raising it up to his pink lips. 

“Open up,” you smile as you try to feed him a piece. 

He opens up his mouth, allowing you to feed him a slab of the pie. “Happy Birthday to you,” you sing-song as you take the fork out of his mouth while he lets out a groan and looks very cute. 

“Mmm, Y/N. This tastes like heaven,” he says, covering his mouth so you don’t see him chewing while talking. 

“Thank you,” you giggle as you place the fork back down onto the plate and then reach for the bag of gifts, moving it closer to you. 

“Finally,” he groans as he gets comfy on the couch. 

“Okay, here is gift 1,” you say, handing him the sweatshirt that was wrapped up. 

He peels off the wrapping paper, his face going from smiley to confused. 

“Really, Y/N?” He laughed as he read the text on the sweatshirt which said ‘Are you still talking’ with a picture of Squidward looking absolutely sick of it. 

“Hey,” you shrug. “That’s quite literally you anytime you have to sit down for an interview. I know you feel like darting outta there as soon as they finish talking,” you chuckle. 

His confused face turns into a smile, “You’re right,”.

There were so many interviews or media appearances where Joe looked like he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. He wasn’t a fan of interviews or anything that needed him to speak for an extended period of time. It was even worse if he had to sit there and listen to someone else talk for an extended period because it prevented him from leaving, so this little quote was very applicable to him. 

“Do you like it?” You say, your smile dropping a little.

“I love it,” he says as he whips his shirt off, showing off his muscular chest, and putting on the hoodie. 

“God damn,” you mumble at the sight of his very attractive body. 

“Hm?” Joe asks as he straightens out the hoodie.

“Oh, nothing. Here, this is your next gift,” you say, changing the subject and placing the Lego gift in his lap. 

He peels off the wrapping paper again, his jaw-dropping as he catches a peek at the gift. “No fucking way,”.

You bite your lip at his reaction, knowing exactly how bad he wanted this set but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“How did you find this?” He gasped.

“I have my ways,” you tease as you grab the wrapping paper and stuff it into the bag to clean up the mess as you go. 

“More importantly, how did you remember?” He asked, his heart feeling like it was ready to burst because of your thoughtfulness. 

“I always remember when it comes to you. Never forgetting a thing,” you smile.

“Oh we’re so building this later,” he says as he turns the box around to look over the visual.

“You got it, birthday boy,” you salute. 

You grab the last two gifts out of the bag and place them into his lap. He opens the Cartier’s first, already knowing what it probably was as soon as he sees a peak of the red box.

“These must’ve been so expensive,” he says as he looks at the sick shades you got him.

“Don’t worry about that,” you say as you rub his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have spent so much, Y/N. All of this was more than enough for me,” he said, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“You go above and beyond for me, every single year. This is nothing compared to what you do for me,” you say, giving his shoulder a squeeze. 

“Thank you, for everything,” he says, grabbing your hand and gently rubbing your skin. He had to fight the urge to press his lip against yours and show you how thankful he was for you, and it was killing him. 

“Ah ah ah, I think we have one more gift to go and it’s my personal fav,” you say as you move the glasses to the table. 

“What could possibly top all of that?” He said as he started to open up his final gift. You stayed quiet, carefully reading his facial expression to see his reaction to the gift. He opened up the gift, his eyes widening and his jaw slightly falling.

“Oh my god,” he said as he observed the Sky Map. His heart skipped a beat as he started to take in the amount of thought you had put into his birthday. You really hit every single point and nobody had ever done this much just for him. You were extraordinary and you were magic. You belonged with him, and this sealed the deal. You were the most thoughtful, loving, and extraordinary girl he had ever met, and he wanted you to be his. 

“Oh my god,” he said again, this time looking over at you. “This is—,”.

“January 13th, 2020 at the Superdome,” you grinned.

“Holy shit. Are these the stars that night?” He asked as he examined the map. 

“Mhm. The stars at the exact time you won the Championship,” you replied.

“Y/N, this is the best gift I think I’ve ever gotten,” he says as he stares at the map a little longer.

“I know how much you love Space and Stars, and this night was very important to you and your Career,” you said.

“I love it. I love all of it,” he grinned as he put the map on the table, then turned to you and pulled you into his arms for a hug. He wanted to add ‘I love you’ to that sentence as well, but that would be too random. If he was going to tell you, it had to be more special than that. 

You melt into his chest as he squeezes your body, “I’m so glad you like it,” you mumble against him. He held you against him for a few moments, not letting you move one bit, and it was making the pit of nervousness in your stomach grow again. You wanted to tell him how much you loved him and show him how much you did as well, but you didn’t know if you should tell him now or wait for another moment when you were a little more relaxed. 

“You wanna go for a walk?” He asked as he pulled away from the hug. Maybe he could tell you then, he thought to himself. 

“Okay,” you smiled, maybe you could tell him then.

He got up from the couch, putting out his hand for you to grab onto. He helped you off the couch and you both made your way outside. The sun had set and now the sky was dark, the only light being the streetlights and the moon. 

“Thank you for today,” Joe says, breaking the silence as you both walk down the street together. “You really know how to make a guy feel special,”. 

“Anything for you,” you say, echoing his sweet words from earlier. 

“No girl has ever done this much for my birthday,” he laughs.

You looked over at him, seeing that he was being serious, which came to your surprise. “Not even Stella?”. 

“Nope. I think last year all she got me was some clothes, most of which were not my style, and a framed photo of us that I already had,” he says. 

“No way,” you giggled.

“I don’t care much for gifts, you know that, but like come on,” he said as he shook his head.

“Did she at least get you a cake?” You asked.

“Nope, she made me apple pie instead,” he said looking disgusted. 

“What?” You shriek. “You don’t even like apple pie,”.

“That’s what I’m saying. Apple pie was her favorite. And you know what’s even better?” He said.

“What?”. 

“She wasn’t even there for like half the day. She was too busy helping her friend with her little sister's birthday party,” Joe said, rolling his eyes and running his fingers through his hair.

“There is no way,” you said, your jaw falling open as you felt sorry for him since his birthday last year sounded horrible. 

“Yeah, so I really mean it when I say you’re the best person ever and this was the best surprise birthday shin-dig ever,” he said, flashing his million-dollar smile at you. 

“Well, if it helps, I didn’t really like her anyway and I’m pretty sure she hated me too,” you joked.

Joe looked over at you, staying silent and not saying anything to debunk your theory. 

“Oh my god? She did hate me, didn't she?”. 

“She always thought we had something going on. She literally would grill me every single time after we hung out or something, accusing me of cheating on her with you,” he said.

“No fucking way,” you laughed. 

“She used to say that even best friends didn’t spend that much time together and always thought we were hooking up or something. And then I did everything I could to make it up to her, but that would only last temporarily before she found another thing to get mad over,”. 

“She must be delusional,” you said, rubbing your hands together as you were starting to feel the December cold. 

“Wait, why didn’t you like her?” He asked. 

“Her vibe was off. She also didn’t really seem like your type in my opinion. She was too flashy and hyper and you’re-–”. 

“Lowkey and Calm?” He interrupts.

“Exactly,” you chuckle. 

“Yeah, she really wasn’t the one,” he sighed. “At one point she literally told me to pick between you and her,”.

Your heart sank at the words that came out of his mouth. “What?” You asked, feeling a lump in your throat. 

“That’s why we broke up,” he admitted. “I chose you,”. 

He chose you. He chose you over someone that could have been his forever. 

“Joe, I’m so sorry,” you said, looking down at your feet as you both kept walking around his neighborhood.

“For what?” He laughed.

“For making her make you pick,”. “If it wasn’t for me, maybe things would’ve been different for you guys,” you say, feeling a little guilty at indirectly ruining his relationship. 

“That’s not your fault, Y/N. She wasn’t the one anyway, and everything about her showed that. That was just the final nail in the coffin,”.

“I just wish you could’ve told me in the moment,” you said.

“Well, I am now,” he shrugged. “And I know you don’t really like talking relationships with me anyways,”. 

You didn’t like to talk to him about his relationships because all these years you wanted to be the one in a relationship with him, and the mention of other girls always made you bitter. 

“That’s fair,” you giggled. “Anyway, enough with the depressing topics. It’s your birthday, no need to dwell on past heartbreaks,”.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes.

“Are you excited for the game tomorrow?”. 

“Very. I feel really good about where we’re at right now and my body feels good too,”.

“That’s great,” you beam. “I’ll never get tired of the feeling of game day,”.

“I hope not,” he laughed. “You’ve been a part of basically every game day for the last four years. If you got sick of it, I think I’d actually lose it. I need you up there at all times to be fully locked in,”. 

You smiled at his silly thoughts. He didn't need you to be the already exceptional and phenomenal quarterback he was, but that was sweet of him to say.

“God, I wish we could do this for the rest of our lives,” you giggled. “Everything is so much easier when it’s just us without all the chaos that is our life”. 

Joe’s heart fluttered at the thought. What if you could do this forever? His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest; this was it, this was his chance to tell you how he felt. Those feelings he’s had inside of him for years were finally about to come out.

“So then let’s do it?” He blurted out, stopping and looking over at you. The streetlight casting a direct glow on the both of you on the dark street. 

“What?” You said, stopping and sporting a confused look on your face.

“Do this with me. For the rest of our lives,” he said. 

Was he being serious, you thought to yourself. 

“Joe—,”.

“You’ve been with me through everything for the past 9 years. The one thing in my life that’s stayed consistent for as long as I can remember. The most special, kind-hearted, loving, and beautiful girl I’ve ever known. When I’m with you, I feel like I’m flying. You make me forget about all the background noise and make me feel like just a guy. I want to feel that feeling for the rest of my life. I’ve been trying to figure out how and when to tell you,”. 

“Joe, I—,”. 

“No, let me finish,” he interrupts as he holds your hand. “I have to say it because I’ve been holding this in for way too long. Y/N, I’ve thought about you every single day for 9 years. Back at Ohio State, I knew I liked you from the moment I saw you. I knew you’d be a special part of my life and when I went to LSU and you stayed by my side, that was solidified. You’re the only girl that makes me feel fireworks. You’re the only girl that I think about and you’re the only girl I want to think about. No girl has ever come close to making me feel the way you do. My mind has been spiraling for the past few weeks because of you, Y/N. You’re the only girl I’ve ever truly loved,”.

Loved. He said he loved you. He loved you this whole time, and you were too blind to see it. This entire time you thought he didn’t feel the same way about you, but he did. He has felt the same way about you for just as long as you did. You felt like you were about to pass out, your flushed face & your silence were saying everything. 

“Y/N.. say something. Please. I hope I didn’t just fuck everything up, but I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it in anymore,” he said, squeezing your hand. 

“Joe..” you say, breaking your silence and meeting his eyes, which were filled with love. “What are we?”.

“What do you mean?” he laughed. “I’ve been wrapped around your finger this whole time?”.

Your solemn face breaks into a smile as you realize what he is saying. “You– You really love me?”. 

“I really, really, love you,” he grins.

“Guess what?” you ask him.

“..What?” he asks, letting go of your hand and feeling nervous all of a sudden.

“I love you too,” you blush, even harder than you were before. 

“Really?” he asks, trying really hard not to freak out.

“Really. I’ve loved you since we were just two college kids trying to get through that awkward stage of life together. I never said anything back then because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, so I buried those feelings and moved on. Or so I thought. But as we got older and time went by, I realized those feelings didn’t go anywhere, and more importantly, you didn’t go anywhere. No other guy has ever had an effect on me like you do. Those fireworks your mom talked about, I only feel them with you,”. 

“Kiss me,” Joe blurted out, turning red at the fact that he just said that.

“You aren’t serious–” you reply.

“I so am,” he says as he grabs your waist and pulls you into him, crashing his soft lips against yours. 

Electricity. Kissing each other felt like pure electricity. It felt like you were coming home after a long day or getting a sip of cold water on a hot summer afternoon. Comforting & Refreshing.

His lips molded against yours perfectly as you moved your arms around his neck to pull him in closer. His hands slid up and down your waist, relishing every single part of your body as you moved one of your hands into his hair, pulling at the soft strands. The warmth of both your bodies protects you from the frigid and dark night around you. He whimpers into the kiss because of you pulling on his hair, causing you to break away. You press open-mouth kisses around his jaw, then press kisses all around his face, causing him to laugh.

“I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this,” you say, pressing your forehead against his.

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, and show me,” he winks.

“Already trying to get in my pants, Burrow?” You flirt.

“Uhh yeah," he says straight up. "Have you seen yourself? Absolutely Sexy and Breathtaking,".

"Besides, I think we can skip the ‘getting to know each other phase’ since we’ve been in that for a longgg time,” he says before he presses another kiss to your lips. 

“Didn’t you say that a few years ago after you won the AFC championship and called me Mrs. Champ?” you say, recalling that moment from a few years ago, the same moment from the photo Joe saw on your side table in your apartment.

“You really don’t forget anything do you?” He smiles.

“Like I said, when it comes to you, I never forget anything,” you smile, then press another kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” he says, staring deeply into your eyes, in which he finally found what he had been looking for all these years, love. 

“I love you so much, Joe,” you grin. 

An hour later 

After your eventful walk, you make it back to his house, immediately following him into the kitchen for some hot chocolate he said he was going to make to fight off the cold. 

“Ah ah ah, you go sit down. I got this,” he says as he turns you around and pushes you towards the couch. The smile on your face gets bigger as you hop over to the comfy couch. 

A little later, he brings over two mugs of Hot Chocolate along with the rest of the Pie for you both to dig into. He hands you your mug, then plops down onto the couch next to you, opening his arms for you to curl up next to him. You rest your cheek against his chest as he settles his arm around your shoulder. 

“This feels right,” he says as he takes a sip of the chocolatey beverage. 

“So right,” you say, wiping the milky drink off your lips. “Everyone’s gonna lose it when we tell them. But I mean, most of them already saw it coming from a mile away”.

“Wait, so does this mean you’re my girlfriend?” he asks, looking down at you.

“Does this answer your question?” you mumble as you press a kiss to his chocolatey lips.

“Oh yes, yes it does, girlfriend,” he smirks. 

“Good, boyfriend,” you giggle. “I can’t even imagine what the fans are gonna say once they figure it out,”.

“I mean, most of them thought you were my girlfriend anyway,” he shrugged. 

“I can’t believe even they could see it before we saw it,” you said, referring to the love between you both. 

“We must be really oblivious,” he laughs as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Must have been really oblivious,” you correct. “Oblivious no longer,”. 

“Right, oblivious no longer,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for making this the best birthday of my life,”.

“You’re welcome,” you say, meeting his eyes again. “But get used to it. Next year will be even better, and the year after even more better,”. 

“Can’t wait,” he sighs as he rubs your shoulder, his brain now filled with thoughts of the future. Everything was perfect and brighter now that he had the comfort of knowing you were going to be by his side forever. Was it a little early to think about that? Sure. But he knew that you were the one. 

Your brain was also much more relaxed and free now that you had the man of your dreams with you, hopefully forever. Those anxiety-filled thoughts had left your mind and were replaced with thoughts of love and hope. He wasn’t going anywhere, and you were all his. 

You finish drinking your Hot Chocolate, and Joe does the same, so you take both of your mugs and place them on the table. Then, you move back to him, this time settling in his lap. He wraps his hands around your hips and presses his lips against yours again. 

“I’ll never get tired of that,” you mumble against his lips, going back to the kiss.

“We’ve got 9 years of kisses to make up for so you better not,” he says as he moves your hair out of your face. 

“I can’t believe this is real life,” you confess as you stuff your head into his neck, feeling his hand slide up and down your back. 

“Well, you better believe it because this was meant to be. You belong with me,” he whispers into your ear. 

You pull your face out of his neck, meeting his gentle eyes that are still filled with love, and passion exclusively reserved for you. “And you belong with me,” you say before kissing him again. 

–The End–

part 3

[thewriterg]

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing(s): miles morales x fem!reader, miles morales x witch!reader, earth!42 Miles x fem!reader? earth!42 miles x witch!reader,

summary: You had been dating your vigilante boyfriend for a few months now but to his surprise you were hiding something a little more than complicated

word count: 2.4k+

request: Hi, if your request are open. Can I ask for a Miles Morales x fem witch reader or headcanons. Fem reader has powers and is a witch. She always carries a Spellbook and can always sense danger when it happens. How would Miles react and feel about reader being a witch? Sorry, if this is to much lovely. -@mbruben-stein

warning(s): reader hurts miles on accident, spidey/prowler activities, mentions of blood, spells, witchcraft, a little angst (I couldn’t help myself 😖), very VERY rusty Spanish it’s been a while, kisses, pet names, Both Miles are older in this like 17, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @manny-jacinto & @xmoon-soul-vibrationsx, @merakyn & — This was too fun to write 😭

1610 Miles 𖤐

Being honest completely and totally honest he would find out by total ACCIDENT

I feel like you would knew he was Spiderman your young, but with your craft you’ve matured and gotten a lot wiser

Everyone’s vibrations were different but it was something about Miles that simply was not… normal

That and the fact every time he’d cancel on you with a million apologies Spiderman would seemingly be spotted somewhere around Brooklyn in ten minutes tops

coincidence? You think not.

One day Miles was on his secret patrol or so he thought and your nerves got too bad you just felt that tingling, scratch worthy, sensation that told you that something bad was going to happen

what you did not expect was Miles to find out about your… power that very day

You switched off the TV with a small sigh the News Reporters speech dying down in their throat as you nuzzled a cup of warm tea to your chest the last foreign voice in your apartment talked about a Spiderman chance against a few criminals who thought it was a perfect day to rob a convenient store

Letting out a soft hum you made sure you caught yourself before you were lost in a heavy trance Miles found you like that a lot and it made you chuckle the first couple of times since he was so… shaken about it now it was a normal occurrence and he’d just wrapped his arms around you standing rocking side to side and a few minutes later you were out of it and greeted him softly

You weren’t dumb far from it you were wise and had an older mind you caught on that your boyfriend was the spider portraying vigilante the second time he had ran out from one of your dates that coincidentally as soon as your boyfriend left your presence Spiderman was magically making an appearance around New York

You could also feel Miles vibrations when he was around you and they were very abnormal from your average human being. You could feel his discomfort when he came back from his ‘secret’ patrolling by simply being around him

long story short he couldn’t really hide anything from you.

You cleared your throat as you snapped out of the trance you had tried ever so hard to stay out a few vintage framed pictures shaking on your wall

You weren’t usually this… jumpy it was usually only when Miles went on patrol and you needed to stop scaring yourself with the endless possibilities you just needed to clear your mind it would be a while before Miles got home so you stepped to your shelves of jars with different herbs, plants, and books sitting atop of it

Grabbing your jar of salt and a stick of chalk crouching down to draw a big enough circle for you to sit in as you stood in the middle of it before lining the outer line with salt you finally sat down

“Papilio lux, papilio lux, papilio lux” You muttered repeatedly your spell book left unopened on the coffee table beside you you’ve done this spell more than you can count it was your first spell you learned actually

You felt the heavy weight lift from your chest as a comforting wind slipped through your hair and the atmosphere of your home

💌💌💌💌

Miles swung from building to building the wind that was usually comforting and cool was now nipping and frigid against his skin

Your apartment building was in view and he found himself breathing in a fresh breath of air and pushed through even more determined to crawl his way into your arms when you needed him to take the weight of the world of his chest to help him breathe properly

Sometimes Miles just need you to put all of your weight and more on his body sometimes he just needed you to hold him sharing the weight of the world together

So with a harsh breath he crawled up your building to your window taking off his mask putting it up to his mouth to hold before pushing up the latch with one arm and crawling in with the other

What he expected least was to be thrown into a wall with the feeling of his windpipe being cramped down to practically nothing his eyes widened as he looked at you sitting cross legged in a circle eyes closed your hair softly whirling in different directions as he struggled to breathe clawing at his neck

Suddenly he watched as you gasped before he dropped to the grown coughing profusely and you rushed to him reaching out to touch him before you retracted your hand not wanting to scare him more than you already had

You explained to Miles everything a short while after that you made sure to get him some water first and sit him down comfortably making sure he was ready

My brother was in AWE as you explained your craft to him

You promised him 1,000 times that you wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt him that when the spell was interrupted with another presence it wasn’t approached with it tried to eliminate the potential threat

He reassured you that he knew that you wouldn’t actually hurt him

“I know you would never intentionally hurt me mi amor”

His secret already very prominent to you his suit being the biggest flag you could see to check off but he decided to offer the now but so secret to you anyways to make you feel better

“If, if it’s not obvious I’m Spiderman” His voice slightly cracked when he spoke and you softly giggled a bit as he hid his flushed out face in your shoulder and the beginning of your neck

“Hmm I can see that, but if it’s not obvious I’ve know since our second date” My boy was on the brink of WHIPLASH the way he looked up at you with the speed of light

“YOU KNEW!?”

After that day there was a lot more peace and comfort in your relationship especially with not having to keep anymore major secrets

He finds your ability to know when something bad is going to happen the coolest

Calls you his twin because his spidey senses are very similar

SPEAKING OF SPIDEY SENSES

THEY DO NOT GO OFF WHEN HES AROUND YOU AT ALL

Like if you guys are in your apartment or his Dorm? And you sneak up on him?

GASPING FOR HIS LIFE.

Like Gwen, Gankee, any classmates of his? FAIL. EVERY. TIME

BUT YOU!?

He needs his inhaler.

Also your spell book is so beautiful in it’s own way to him

Does not even TAP it if you don’t give him permission

He’s very big on respecting boundaries he would feel very flustered and embarrassed if you were to look through his sketchbook so he channels that into your spell book

If you do let him hold it and peak around in it? Internally screaming.

It’s leather cover, filled pages, stained Hogwarts letter looking paper in his words

He’s once again in awe

Brags about you ALL THE DAMN TIME.

Hobie is honestly tired of hearing him being such a “lovesick daft”

He’s literally the most happy for you both

Loves when you take care of him

He just a ‘wittle baby 😖

Make him a cup of tea when he comes back from a rough patrol, rubbing circles on his back as he practically lies on top of you

Miles has gotten used to the feeling and knows when you’re “working your magic”

Suddenly he’ll feel a strong peace slip into his head traveling through his skull, down his spine, and into the rest of his bones

Then the feeling he gets when he gets home from a long day and embraces you, puts his face in your neck, the bliss?

He feels that times a hundred

He likes to say “he can feel you” and you’d say “I feel you too”

He’s falling asleep in like 10 minutes MAX and that’s when he’s fighting it

We love witchy gf and spidey bf 😊

Earth 42 Miles 𖤐

I’m getting hero/villain trope

You’re a masked vigilante making sure New York is safe and he’s the prowler trying to make money so you, his mom, his uncle and him can be straight

The way you both found out about each other was so heartbreaking tbh

Miles did not want you to find out like that, hell he didn’t want you to find out AT ALL

You were trying to protect New York and he was trying to wreck it

Neither of you knew who you were fighting underneath your masks

Felt like his world was crumbling when he finally snatched off your mask

You wheeze slightly crouching on the top of an abandoned building putting pressure on your side tapping the small black piece in your ear as the prowlers voice rings through your senses

“I’m close I just need more time” The mask he wore distorted his voice as he mumbled something to another person over the phone you could hear his steps as he breathed heavily into his mic having hacked into it

“You don’t have that time the police are in Route!” That voice was familiar to you, too familiar.

“Listen you kill this chick? You’re set full ride you, your moms, your girl.” Aaron Davis? What the hell did he have to do with the prowler?

“Miles you get this done? And you’re out for good.” Your breath hitched in your throat along with bile that burned your mouth as much as you wanted to believe that this was just coincidental there were too many pieces that added up

Aaron Davis

Nights you didn’t go on patrol and randomly woke up to Miles gone

The recent excessive money

When he didn’t answer his phone for hours at a time when it was closing dawn

It just made sense.

Everything else was a blur as you reached underneath your mask taking your earpiece and throwing it across the rooftop of the abandon building it cracking into bits as it landed harshly

You were so… angry

“Come on asshole” You muttered having jumped down from the the top of the building your body pressed against the the side of the brick wall waiting for him to walk by and as soon as you heard the first step you were already throwing a direct kick to his chest causing him to stumble in his step just a bit but enough for you to have an open window of opportunity

“Motus” Your hands moving through the air swiftly as the prowler went flying backwards into a wall debris crumbling around him before he was back on his feet tackling you to the ground trying to get you hands pent up above your head before you spoke

“All this time you’ve been lying to me Miles!” You shouted and his attack stuttered as either of his thighs rested on the side of your torso his hands pinning your wrist down to the floor

“How do you know my name?” He questioned gruffly the realization that you knew hadn’t registered

“After everything, out of anybody, you lied to me!” You yelled tears swelling up in your eyes and finally his gripped loosened and his gaze softened under his mask You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of how much he hurt you but it did hurt and maybe you were a hypocrite because you kept something from him too but he knew how you felt about the prowler

“Y/n?” Miles mask opened on command it showing the exact person who you knew it would his carmel skin complimenting his doe brown eyes his braids falling down and stopping at his shoulders carefully he brought a hand down towards the lining of you mask before he slipped it off carefully, delicately as if you hadn’t kicked each others asses for weeks on end his breath slowed and the world seemed to stop as he looked down at your face sweating and bleeding from a cut above your brow

“Out of everyone you were supposed to keep it real with me you said I was your ace, you said that. This, this is just a joke, un juego” You hope he felt like you did betrayed, hurt, like time had slowed down and the world had stopped.

“Espero que haya valido la pena” And then you were gone right from underneath him into the thick tension filled air he sat on the blood snatching off the mask from the back of his head and throwing it with a curse before placing his head in his hands

“oh mi vida”

You would think that after everything that had happened Miles would give you space

and he would… not

Blowing your phone UP.

Would try to stop by your house and your mom loves him and Rio as well would tell him how you’ve been down recently maybe not eating abs that he should talk to you later when you came back from running errands for her

Then realizes you haven’t told anyone he was the prowler and that makes him feel ten times worse

YOURE AVOIDING HIM HEAVY TBH

he’s sending you gifts and flowers every day. Jewelry, clothes, shoes, food, just about everything

He’s not good with words or expressing his feelings whatsoever.

Gets to a point where he can’t take it anymore and he’s at your your door step on his knees for you to forgive he doesn’t care how desperate he looks because he is to make it up to you

“por favor dame una oportunidad mami, don’t close the door”

“Miles please get up, ese suelo está sucio”

“Jus’ let me explain and if you don’t forgive me than that’s that”

he was lying out his ass.. as if he would ever be over you pshhh

You wanted to say no

Just say no

NO.

“you have three minutes”

FUCK.

That’s all he needed y/n 😖🙏🏽

Goes on a full blown rant about how he felt about you and how he wanted to keep you away and safe from all that stuff

probably the most he’s talked about his feelings in one setting your whole relationship

He loves you so much and wants to see you good and well

he loves her more trope? Yes.

You also apologize for keeping your crime fighting a secret

You guys have stuff to work on but you’ll get through it

“I love you mi reina”

“I love you too querido”

💌💌💌💌

I’ve been so brains dead when it comes to writing request 💀

trying my best 😖🙏🏽

request are back open

[cod-thoughts]

And he stood by and waited to be called

Word count: 3.7k Relationship: NikPrice, PriceNik, Nikolai/Price Tags: Established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff, surprises, anniversary

Price and Nikolai are supposed to be celebrating their anniversary today, what if Nik has to cancel last minute? What if he makes it up to Price anyway? Keep reading under the cut or on AO3 I've been working furiously on ghostprice week but i wanted to get something up before then so here we are! I just wanted some fluff and something wholesome its been a rough couple of weeks 0_0

John Price ran his fingers through his beard, inspecting it in the mirror under the bright, unforgiving bathroom light. He’d gone to the barber the night before, the guy taking care to trim his hair just right, shaping the beard until it was exactly the way Nikolai liked it. Price had watched in the mirror as the barber worked, the hum of clippers and the snip of scissors oddly soothing. He’d wanted it to be perfect, the kind of effort he didn’t make often, but today was special. It was for Nikolai, after all. The man who had waited, who had been patient through the endless nights apart, through the missions that had stretched longer than expected, through the calls that never came when Price got tied up in things beyond his control.

This morning, he’d taken his time getting ready, savoring every small step. He’d used that fancy beard oil Nikolai had given him on their last anniversary—the one with the cedar and sandalwood scent that Nikolai had said made him “smell like a forest, but a handsome one.” The words had stuck with Price, replaying in his mind every time he used the oil. He could almost hear Nikolai’s voice, that warm, affectionate tone, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he teased. It made Price smile to himself, a soft, private smile that lingered even as he moved through the rest of his routine.

He even went the extra mile, too, shaving away the rougher edges with a precision he hadn’t bothered with in a while, making sure every line was clean and crisp. The razor glided over his skin, the scent of shaving cream mingling with the cedar and sandalwood, and for once, Price allowed himself to enjoy it. This was, after all, their anniversary. Years of shared missions, flights, quick getaways, and late-night talks when the weight of command felt like too much, each adding up to something neither of them had ever quite expected. They’d found each other in the chaos, in the midst of everything else, and that was worth celebrating. It wasn’t just about the time they’d spent together—it was about the fact that they’d chosen each other, over and over again, despite everything.

After one last look, Price pulled his shirt collar into place, brushing his shoulders free of any stray hairs, adjusting the cuffs. It wasn’t fancy—not by a mile—but it felt good to put himself together just for the sake of it. For the sake of Nikolai. It made his chest swell with a quiet sort of pride, knowing that he could still find joy in the smallest of gestures, knowing that after all this time, Nikolai was still the one who made him feel like this.

As he strode out into the hallway, there was no hiding his uplifted mood. Gaz spotted him first, pausing with his coffee mug halfway to his lips, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Captain… you look sharp.” His tone was playful but warm, with an edge of real surprise. Price’s grooming routine was normally more utilitarian—efficient, maybe a bit rugged, if he was lucky.

Soap, however, was less subtle. “Christ, look at you, Cap,” he said with a dramatic whistle. “What’s the occasion?”

Price rolled his eyes, but he could feel his face heating, which only encouraged them further. Gaz gave him a knowing smile, and even Ghost, leaning against the far wall, raised an eyebrow, catching his eye with an amused nod.

They knew, of course. It was no secret that Nikolai and Price were together. It hadn’t always been easy—Price had grappled with it for years, all those ingrained habits and fears from a past where he’d never felt able to be himself, to be openly happy like this. It had been Nikolai’s patience, his kindness, that had chipped away at those walls, showing Price that he didn’t have to keep that part of himself hidden.

Instead of keeping quiet or dancing around the subject, the team encouraged him, embraced him in ways that went beyond words. They teased him, sure, but it was with warmth, with affection that made Price feel lighter than he’d ever imagined he could. After all those years of thinking he had to keep that part of himself locked away, he was here—respected and accepted not just as a captain, but as a man with a heart that belonged to someone else.

Soap, however, wasn’t about to let him go with just a blush, and brought him out of his reverie with an excited shout, “Hey, we should give him an escort!” He looked around at the others, his grin widening. “Make sure the captain here arrives in style. After all, a bloke doesn’t get gussied up like that every day.”

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe I’m just overdue for a proper clean-up,” he muttered, trying to sound casual. But the small smile tugging at his lips betrayed him, and he knew it. There was no hiding his excitement—not from the team, not from himself.

---

The hours passed, each task feeling like both a distraction and a countdown. Price moved through his duties with a kind of restless energy, his thoughts drifting constantly to the evening ahead. Every so often, he’d reach into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small, carefully tied pouch nestled there. He’d spent weeks searching for something that would be meaningful—something that would last. In the end, he’d settled on an old-fashioned pocket watch, the kind Nikolai had once mentioned fondly in passing. It wasn’t flashy, but Price knew it would suit him, a small reminder of them that could go wherever Nikolai did. It felt right—something timeless, something that held weight, just like what they shared.

He imagined Nikolai’s reaction, the way his eyes would light up when he saw it, the warmth in his smile when he realised what it meant. Price’s heart swelled at the thought, a small smile tugging at his lips as he made his way through the base. Each step felt lighter, each mundane task a little less tedious, knowing that at the end of it all, Nikolai would be there.

As the evening approached, he found himself glancing at the clock more often, anticipation bubbling just below the surface. He was ready early, his heart thrumming with excitement as he made his way back to his quarters. They’d planned to meet there—just the two of them, an arrangement that had quickly become a ritual on the rare occasions they both had the luxury of downtime. He paced his room, unable to sit still, a smile tugging at his lips as he imagined how the night would go. They’d share a quiet meal, maybe a drink or two, and just be together—no missions, no distractions, just them.

Then his phone vibrated in his hand. Price opened the message with a grin, expecting to see Nikolai’s usual playful greeting—only to feel his heart drop as he read the words on the screen.

John, I am sorry, my love. I will not make it in time. Got pulled into something last minute. I will make it up to you, I promise. Be safe. Love you, Mishka.

The excitement that had carried him through the day deflated, replaced by a heavy emptiness that settled deep in his chest. He stared at the message, rereading it as if somehow the words might change, as if maybe he’d misunderstood. But they didn’t change, and the ache that followed was sharp and immediate. He knew he should be fine with it. This wasn’t the first time duty had forced one of them to cancel plans, and he’d had to do it to Nikolai more times than he cared to admit. He knew the job always came first—had always come first. But somehow, the disappointment cut deeper today. Maybe because he’d let himself look forward to it so openly, maybe because he’d let himself believe that, for once, they’d have the time to themselves.

Price sighed, running a hand over his face, the freshly smoothed skin reminding him of the effort he’d put into this day, the way he’d hoped it would go. He tried to brush it off, tried to tell himself it didn’t matter, but the ache in his chest lingered. He’d wanted tonight to be special—not just for himself, but for Nikolai too. He’d wanted to give them both a moment to breathe, to remind each other why they kept fighting, kept coming back.

He let out a slow breath, pocketing his phone and trying to gather himself. There was no use dwelling on it—he’d see Nikolai soon enough, and they’d make up for the lost time as they always did. But the ache in his chest didn’t ease, not fully.

Price made his way to the rec room where the team were gathered around a table playing cards. The room was filled with the sound of their banter, the shuffle of cards, the occasional clatter of a mug being set down. Normally, it was a comforting noise, a reminder of the camaraderie they shared, but tonight it felt distant—like he was watching it all from the outside.

He started making a cup of tea, his hands moving on autopilot. The motions were familiar, almost comforting in their simplicity. As the kettle clicked, Gaz sidled up next to him, nudging him lightly. “Everything alright, Captain?”

Price forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Change of plans,” he said, shrugging. “Nikolai’s not gonna make it anymore. Duty calls.”

Gaz frowned, glancing back at Soap, who was already watching Price with a sympathetic look. “Why don’t you come out with us?” Soap suggested, his voice unusually soft. “Just for a bit. Make a night of it, yeah?”

Price shook his head, his smile faltering. “Appreciate it, lads. But I’ll just finish up some reports. Been putting them off anyway.” He tried to keep his tone light, but even he could hear the strain in it. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden, to bring down the mood. The disappointment was his to carry, and he’d manage it as he always did.

He watched as the others exchanged glances but didn’t press. There was a kind of understanding in their silence, an unspoken support that made Price’s chest tighten. They cared, in their own ways, and even if they couldn’t change anything, they were there, grounding him with their steady presence. It was enough—it had to be enough.

They let him go with a quiet nod, and Price slipped into his office, burying himself in paperwork to fill the time, to ease the ache he didn’t want to admit was there. He worked through reports, reviewed mission details, anything to keep his mind occupied, but the hours dragged, each tick of the clock a reminder of what he was missing. By the time he finally called it a night, the disappointment had settled into a dull, familiar ache. He knew he’d see Nikolai soon—knew they’d make up for the lost time as they always did. But tonight, there was no denying the ache of that missing presence, the empty space that seemed to echo louder than ever.

By the time he finally headed back to his quarters, he’d resigned himself to an evening alone, the carefully wrapped gift weighing heavier in his pocket. He paused outside his door, taking a slow breath before opening it. He knew it would be empty, knew he’d have to wait a little longer to see Nikolai, but still, a part of him hoped.

As he opened the door to his room, he froze. There, standing by the bed with a small, mischievous grin and a bouquet of wildflowers in hand, was Nikolai.

Price blinked, his heart leaping at the sight. For a second, he could only stare, his mind racing to catch up with reality. The exhaustion of the day, the disappointment he'd pushed down, all seemed to vanish in an instant. He blinked again, as if to make sure this wasn't some tired trick of his imagination. But no—there Nikolai stood, just as real as the ache in his chest had been moments before, now replaced by an overwhelming rush of warmth.

Nikolai’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he saw Price’s stunned expression. “Sorry I did not message you again, I was in a rush,” he said, stepping forward, his voice softening. “I had to see this…handsome Captain, I am sure you understand.” He winked, his grin widening as he took in Price’s carefully put-together appearance.

Price’s heart clenched with something fierce—relief, love, gratitude—all of it swelled up at once, nearly making his throat tighten. He let out a breathless laugh, his lips curving into a smile that he couldn’t contain. Slowly, he stepped forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “You… how…?”

Nikolai closed the distance between them, the flowers still held loosely in one hand. “Did you really think I would miss this? Not when you put in this effort.” He reached out with his free hand, his fingers brushing against Price’s cheek, tracing the line of his freshly trimmed beard. “I’ve missed seeing you like this,” he added, his voice dropping to something more intimate, something just for Price.

For a long moment, Price could only stare, his heart swelling with relief and happiness as he took in the sight. Then, finally, he let out a quiet, breathless laugh, stepping forward and pulling Nikolai into a tight embrace. He buried his face in the crook of Nikolai’s neck, his voice muffled but thick with emotion. “You sneaky bastard.”

Nikolai laughed, his arms coming up around Price, holding him close. He pressed his face into Price’s shoulder, breathing him in, the familiar scent of cedar and sandalwood filling his senses. “Did you really think I would let you spend our anniversary alone?” he murmured against Price’s ear, his voice warm and gentle.

Price pulled back slightly, just enough to look Nikolai in the eyes. He could see the affection there, the sincerity in every line of Nikolai’s expression. It made his chest feel tight, and he swallowed hard, nodding. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “But I… I wasn’t expecting this.”

Nikolai smiled, lifting the bouquet between them. “I believe these are for you, Captain.”

Price chuckled, shaking his head as he took the flowers from Nikolai’s hand, brushing his fingers over the delicate petals. They were a little worse for wear, some petals bent, a few stems slightly bruised, but Price found it made them all the more perfect. They were real, just like this moment, like the man standing before him.

“Wildflowers, Nik?” Price asked, his voice laced with affection. “You know you didn’t have to…”

Nikolai’s smile softened, and he took a small step closer, his hand coming to rest on Price’s hip, his thumb brushing lightly against the fabric of his shirt. “No trouble, my love. Besides, I think they suit you. Strong, resilient… beautiful.”

Heat rose to Price’s face, and he looked away, huffing out a laugh. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

Nikolai came up behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, pressing his face into the side of Price’s neck. He took a deep breath, his voice rumbling softly against Price’s skin. “Only for you.” He pulled away slightly, just enough to spin Price around to face him instead. He pressed a kiss to Price’s lips—soft, lingering, full of all the words they didn’t need to say.

When he pulled back, Nikolai’s eyes were gleaming with mischief, and he whispered, “I cannot wait to unwrap my gift,” his gaze running up and down Price’s form, appreciation evident in his eyes.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “Not quite,” he said, his tone teasing. He reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small box there. “…or at least not yet,” he added quietly, holding it out to Nikolai. “I… I got you something.”

Nikolai’s eyes softened as he took the gift, his gaze flicking up to meet Price’s before he carefully unwrapped it. The wrapping was simple—Price hadn’t been one for extravagant touches—but it had been done with care, and that was what made it special. Nikolai peeled back the paper, revealing the small box within. He opened it slowly, and the soft click of the pocket watch filled the quiet room.

A look of quiet awe crossed Nikolai's face as he took in the pocket watch, its metal glinting in the soft light. He ran his thumb across the engraved initials on the inside, his eyes taking in every detail. There was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still around them, and then Nikolai looked up, meeting Price’s gaze with an expression so full of love it made Price’s breath catch.

“John…” His voice was barely a whisper, thick with emotion as he ran his thumb over the watch’s surface again. He looked back at the initials, tracing them gently. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice cracking just slightly.

Price felt his heart swell, the weight of the day’s disappointment finally lifting as he reached out, his fingers brushing against Nikolai’s. The warmth of Nikolai’s skin under his fingertips grounded him, the way it always did. He smiled, a real, genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Only the best for you, Nik.”

Nikolai took a deep breath, his gaze flicking back down to the watch, his thumb still tracing the initials. He closed the watch with a soft click, slipping it carefully back into its box before he looked back up at Price. “I will keep it with me always,” he said, his voice still thick with emotion, his eyes meeting Price’s. “Wherever I go, a piece of you comes with me.”

Price swallowed, feeling his throat tighten as he nodded. He couldn’t find the words to respond, not properly, so instead, he took a step forward, pulling Nikolai into another embrace. This one was different from the last—slower, more deliberate. He wrapped his arms around Nikolai’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Nikolai’s neck, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The weight of command, the responsibilities, the expectations—all of it faded, leaving just the two of them, wrapped up in each other.

After a long moment, Price pulled back, just enough to press a gentle kiss to Nikolai’s temple. When he finally let go, Nikolai smiled, a playful glint returning to his eyes. He reached into the bag he’d set by the bed, producing a small, aged bottle of whiskey. Its amber hue gleamed in the soft light as Nikolai held it up between them. “I did not come empty-handed either,” he murmured, his voice laced with that familiar warmth. “Thought we could have a proper toast, my love.”

Price’s face softened as he looked at the bottle, recognising the label immediately. It was the same whiskey they’d shared once before—on another night, one that had felt just as full of quiet understanding and love. He met Nikolai’s gaze, touched by the small gesture. “You remembered,” he said, his voice quiet.

Nikolai’s smile softened. “Of course I remembered.” He stepped closer, nudging Price gently toward the small table by the bed. “Now, let us toast properly, hm?” He poured a couple of inches into each glass, handing one to Price before raising his own. His gaze settled on Price, warm and unwavering. “To all our years, past and future, but there could never be enough time with you.”

Price felt a grin break across his face as he raised his glass, his heart swelling with a rush of affection. He clinked his glass to Nikolai’s, the soft sound filling the quiet room, and took a sip. The warmth of the whiskey spread through him, soothing the edges of the day, and he felt the tension that had lingered melt away completely.

They moved to sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders brushing as they savoured their drinks, the silence between them comfortable, filled with a quiet kind of joy. Price leaned into Nikolai slightly, their legs touching, the warmth of his partner grounding him in a way that nothing else could. He let out a content sigh, his gaze drifting down to where their hands rested side by side on the bed.

Nikolai seemed to notice the direction of his gaze, and with a soft smile, he set his glass down on the nightstand before reaching over, taking Price’s hand in his. He laced their fingers together, his thumb brushing lightly across Price’s knuckles in a slow, soothing motion.

Price turned to look at him, his chest tightening with emotion. There were so many things he wanted to say, but as he met Nikolai’s eyes, he realised he didn’t need to. Everything he felt, everything he wanted to say, was already there in the way Nikolai looked at him, in the way he held his hand, in the warmth of his touch.

Slowly, Nikolai leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Price’s. “I love you, John,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words were just for the two of them and no one else.

Price closed his eyes, his heart swelling with a warmth that filled every part of him. He squeezed Nikolai’s hand gently, his voice equally soft as he replied, “I love you too, Nik. More than anything.”

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their foreheads resting together, their hands intertwined, the world outside forgotten. There was no rush, no need to move or speak. Everything they needed was right there, in the quiet space between them, in the love they shared.

When they finally pulled back, Nikolai grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief once more. He nudged Price gently, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “Can I still unwrap you?”

Price let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head as he pulled Nikolai closer, their noses brushing. “Not arguing with that,” he replied, his voice low and affectionate.

Nikolai’s grin widened, and he leaned in, capturing Price’s lips in a kiss that was soft and slow, filled with the promise of everything still to come. Price melted into it, his arms wrapping around Nikolai’s waist, his heart full to the brim.

In that quiet, stolen moment, everything felt right. The world outside could wait a little longer; tonight, this was all they needed.

[hailthegodsong]

TENDER LOVE

~ One Shot ~ Josh Kiszka x Injured Female Reader

Word Count: 9.6k + (sorry i got a bit carried away)

Summary: When a pyrotechnic at the last show of tour malfunctions and ruptures your eardrum, Josh does everything he can to get you home and healing, sticking by you at your absolute worst. Just a plain old (very self-indulgent) physical hurt/ comfort trope. A/N: For some reason this didn't upload properly the first orrr second time so third times a charm!

Content Warnings: Ruptured ear drum, extreme pain, ear infection, loud noises, fire, swearing, mentions of DIG cancelled shows due to Josh's ear injuries, injury, blood and other bodily fluids from injury, nausea, dizziness, caretaking Josh, prescription drugs including painkillers and antibiotics, infection, sleeplessness, anger and irritation, but mostly fluffy fluffy caretaking Josh.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

“How do you feel?” you asked softly, tugging the zipper of Josh’s jumpsuit up to its final notch. The bright fabric gleamed under the dim backstage lights, and his radiant smile only amplified the glow. You placed your hands flat against his chest, letting your fingers trace the velvety fabric in a quiet moment of affection.

“Excited… a little nervous,” he admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. As he pulled away, his lips rolled together in thought, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt where they fidgeted absentmindedly.

“You’ll do great, you always do,” you reassured him, your voice firm but tender. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Your words carried more weight than usual– this was the last show of the tour. The whirlwind of hotel rooms, airports, endless flights, buzzing venues, and ceaseless movement was coming to an end.

It was bittersweet. Part of you would miss the pace– the constant hum of excitement, the thrill that came with living life on the move. But another part of you yearned for the simplicity of home. You longed for quiet mornings, expensive wine, and lazy days spent dancing around the living room in your pyjamas, just the two of you, free from the world’s demands.

Josh’s hand shifted slightly at your waist, drawing you back into the present. “I know,” he said, a hint of a grin breaking through his nerves. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just… festivals are scarier. So many people, so many more eyes.” His voice was quiet, but his eyes, locked on yours, searched for reassurance.

You raised a playful eyebrow, rising onto your toes until your face was level with his. “What happened to ‘fuck fear’? Hmm?”

A laugh escaped him, short and light. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a quick kiss before his hands squeezed your sides teasingly. “You’re right. As always.”

“Two minutes, Josh!” Tanner’s voice called sharply from the hallway, his usual pre-show routine to keep Josh on schedule.

Josh rolled his shoulders back and exhaled, his breath tight with anticipation. “You’ll be in the stage wing?”

“Of course,” you promised.

You followed him through the chaotic backstage tents, weaving past crew members and tangled cables, the orchestral opening for Starcatcher echoing through the space. When you reached his brothers, he stole one last kiss before bounding onto the stage with an energy that sent electricity through the air.

From your vantage point in the shadows of the stage wing, you watched them transform. Josh, Jake, Sam and Danny commanded the space with ease, their every movement amplifying the roaring energy of the crowd. And the deafening cheers seemed to fuel them ever more.

You stayed just out of sight, a comforting presence Josh sought with fleeting glances. Every now and then, he’d throw you a sly smile, one meant only for you, a silent reminder that you were always on his mind.

The show was everything it always was– loud, raw, electric. You swayed to the music, smiling fondly at Josh’s antics as he strutted across the stage. Feather boas and sparkly sunglasses were flung his way, and he soaked up the adoration like sunlight.

You stepped a little further to the right when one of the amplifiers beside you blared a little too loud, no doubt attributed to Jake's request. You considered putting in earplugs to protect your ears which were ringing slightly at the volume of the music, but a quick glance at the setlist had you realising that there were only two songs until the end of the show, and you wanted to hear it without obstruction. 

Swallowing back the mild discomfort, you refocused on the music, your heart beating against the rhythm as the song came to a climax. Danny's face twisted in passion as he abused his drums, swinging against the cymbals with fervour. 

At the last few swings, the hot heat of a nearby pyro machine blew off, shooting hot fire into the air, creating a symphony of chaos and raw aggression with the music. 

Each blow delivered had another bullet of fire shooting into the air, and you took a step back to relieve yourself of the burning heat ebbing from the machine nearby. Though it wasn't enough, as when you waited for the last beat to drop, the silence gave way to an unnatural hissing sound emanating from the machine only mere feet from you, awaiting the final beat.

That wasn’t normal.

The next few moments happened in a blur. They passed too quickly for you to decide to move away from the machine, and too quickly for you to truly register what happened. 

Bliding, hot light burst from the little black box, so bright that you lost sight of your surroundings completely. The small explosion was accompanied by a deafening bang, one that certainly wasn't normal, and one that had you cowering away, hands flying to your ears against the vibrations. 

But the damage had already been done. You hadn't realised the song was over, by the way the ringing in your ears deafened you completely. You stumbled back a few steps as a nauseating rush of dizziness overtook you. White, hot, searing pain spread across the side of your face, and you were sure you made a sound of protest had you been able to hear it through the shrill piercing noise that vibrated through your skull.

Disorientated and disabled by the confusion that wracked your body, you turned to the darkness, away from the stage, away from the ringing noise. 

But the ringing did not dissipate. No, in fact, it only seemed to grow louder with each step you took away from the stage. You hadn't realised your eyes had been screwed shut until you walked into something, hard and unmoving, the jolt of your head sending a pang of pain through your face. You had walked into an equipment storage box, you realised as you cracked your eyes open. 

Turning around to gather your bearings seemed to only make things worse, as the area in front of you tilted on its axis, and you were falling with it. Your hands still clutched the sides of your head, palms pressed over your ears protectively as you swayed to the side. 

A crew member you recognised, but couldn't remember the name of appeared in front of you, his face taut with concern as he grabbed your shoulders to steady your balance. 

“Woah, you alright?” he asked. His gaze drifted to the side of your face, looking at you didn't know what. He lifted your hand from your ear and winced. “Oh shit,” he muttered. You looked down at your hand, now hovering between the two of you, palm coated in a curdling mixture of blood and some unknown, yellow substance.

Blood. 

Blood. Blood? Why was there blood? What happened? You couldn't think through the pain that stretched across every nerve in your head, your jaw throbbing and ear aching against every noise that still drifted from the stage to where you stood. 

You hadn't realised the man in front of you had gone until he returned again with a towel, in which he folded and pressed against your ear. You hissed at the pressure against your head, but found yourself grabbing onto his forearm as you stumbled to the side a little. 

What was going on? 

“What happened?” you asked as he led you out of the side stage area, his hand still pressing the fabric against the side of your head. He walked you to the makeup trailer, and carefully sat you down on his makeup chair. 

“Looks like you fucked up your ear,” he explained, wincing as he saw the red soaking through the white fabric. “Don't worry, the set should have ended by now, Josh should be out soon,” he comforted. “I’m gonna go find a medic, just… stay still, try not to move too much.” And with that, he was gone, closing the caravan door behind him gently to alleviate any noise. 

Somethow, the silence in the small space was anything but comforting. Instead, it gave way to the persistent ringing, which now not only pierced the side of your head, but what felt like your entire face. You steadied yourself with one hand on the edge of the dressing table, the other still pressing against your ear as if the pressure would alleviate some of the pain. 

It didn't. 

It sounded as if you had been cloaked underwater, the ticking of the clock by the door muffled yet still pounding against your ears. You tried to focus on a singular point in the room, in a feeble attempt to quell the circus spin of your vision, but it only seemed to get worse, at one point almost knocking you off your idle position in your chair. 

Not long went by before the door to the caravan opened and Josh stepped in, flushed and sweaty, his eyes searching the space before they landed on you. 

“There you are Baby, I’ve been looking all over for you. You okay?” he asked, stepping towards you, his perky expression quickly turning confused at the sight of you, cowering in a chair with a grimace on your face. 

You hissed, not knowing what was worse, the slam of the door against the wall or the ring of his loud voice. You didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but you winced against the noises, each sound like a hammer to your face. 

“Shhh,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut through the intense pain. You felt like you were going to be sick. Josh furrowed his brows and continued towards you until he stood in front of you, crouching onto his knees to lower himself to your eye level. 

“Baby, what happened?” he asked, tilting his head to see the cloth pressed against your ear, a shadow of blood staining the fabric from where it had soaked through. “Is– are you bleeding?” he asked, voice loud in alarm and concern, making you whimper out in pain as you clutched the fabric closer. 

“Fuck! Be quiet, please,” you begged, a hot tear slipping from your eye, running down the crevice between your nose and cheek and landing on your lips. 

Josh’s eyes were wide in complete shock and confusion as well as concern for your health. He nodded frantically, whispering a ‘sorry’ before shuffling closer to you on his knees. 

“Can I?” he asked, voice softer this time as he reached out to touch the towel bunched up against your ear. You nodded, but quickly regretted it as the feeling closely resembled your brain being loosely tossed around your skull and made you wince. 

Josh's frown deepened at your pained reaction, and he tentatively reached up to remove the cloth. It stuck to your skin with dried blood as he peeled it away slowly, blinking at the sight of the oozing yellow substance. 

“Shit,” he whispered, conscious to keep his voice low. “You’ve fucked up your ear drum, Baby.”

He pressed the cloth against your ear again, providing you with a level of protection from the sound around you, and stroked his thumb against your sweaty forehead. 

“How did this happen? Were the amps just too loud?” he asked, planting another hand on your knee. 

You shook your head, only to be met with an overwhelming dizziness, again. You had got to stop doing that. You squeezed your eyes through the spell and felt Josh’s hands steady you by the shoulder. “Try not to move too much, your balance is out of whack,” he instructed. 

“The fire…” you explained meekly, your jaw throbbing with pain when you spoke, “It went wrong or something. Exploded.”

His eyes widened at your words, a panicked look on his face as his eyes addressed the rest of you, “Shit, it didn’t burn you did it?” he asked. 

You hummed a ‘no’, avoiding shaking your head as well as speaking to preserve some essence of comfort against the pain. Although relieved, his frown remained, seeing you in pain being one of the hardest things to watch. 

You rubbed your temples, groaning in pain. “Ugh, it hurts so bad…” you said, mostly unable to hear yourself through the noise being created in your ear. 

Josh pressed his lips together and caressed your hairline with nimble fingers, “I know, honey. I know. It’s going to be really uncomfortable for the next few weeks, but I’ll be here.” Josh looked up to the roof and ran the heel of his palm over his forehead harshly, “Fuck, this is all my fault.”

“Why?” you whispered, a protective feeling washing over you at Josh's self-blame. 

“I asked them to turn the pyros up– wanted it to be extra for the last show ‘n everything. And now you’re hurt– badly, and if I hadn’t just–”

“Josh,” you interrupted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You didn’t know it was going to do that. This isn’t your fault. It isn’t anybody's fault. Please don't blame yourself.”

He sighed and gave you a small smile, “Okay, Honey, I’m sorry. Let's just worry about you for now, ‘kay?”

You gave him a small sound to signal your agreement, and let your eyes fall shut, breathing deeply through your nose to try and calm the pain.

“I need to go get someone. A medic or something, will you be okay here on your own?” he asked. 

“Someone’s already on their way,” you explained through gritted teeth.

“Alright, good,” he sighed, patting your knee. “Are you comfortable here? Want me to take you to the couch to lay down?” he asked, looking up at you from his kneeled position, hands braced around your body as if you could break at any moment. 

You reached up to knead the side of your thumb into the muscle of your jaw in an attempt to quell the pain. “Yes please,” you answered with a sigh.

Josh nodded and stood quickly, “Alright Baby, just lean on me. You’re gonna feel really dizzy when we stand up, but I won’t let you fall, promise.”

You had almost forgotten Josh had been through this exact injury before, having experienced the pain, the discomfort, the dizziness. Josh helped you stand with a tight arm wrapped around your body, and walked you over to the little couch in the corner of the room. 

You weren't as dizzy this time, with Josh's stability stopping you from toppling over, but the painful waves of nausea still boiled in your throat. 

“There we go, slowly now,” Josh guided, helping you lay down on the couch as he promptly settled a few pillows beneath your head. 

Josh hovered beside you as you eased back onto the couch, his hand never leaving yours as he adjusted the pillows beneath your head with delicate care. His brow furrowed, concern etched into every line of his face. You watched him through the throbbing ache that pulsed from your jaw to your temple, his frantic gentleness almost endearing, if not for the pain clouding your thoughts.

“There,” he murmured, crouching down to your level. He smoothed a strand of hair from your forehead, his fingers cool against your overheated skin. “Better?” he asked.

You gave him a faint smile, though it faltered as the sharp ringing in your ears gnawed at the edges of your sanity. Josh’s expression softened, his thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles.

“You know,” he began, his tone lightening as a flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, “This reminds me of that time I tripped over the amp cable in Chicago. Remember that? Flat on my face, right in front of the crew. You laughed so hard, you fell off the equipment case you were sitting on and sprained your wrist.”

Despite yourself, you chuckled weakly at the memory, but the movement sent a jolt of pain radiating through your head. You winced, your hand flying to your temple.

“Don’t make me laugh, Josh,” you groaned, though there was no real irritation in your voice– just a kind of weary exasperation.

He grinned sheepishly, his free hand reaching out to rest gently on your arm. “Sorry, Baby. I’ll save the comedy routine for when your head’s not about to explode.”

There was a knock at the door, sharp but not overly loud, and Josh raised a brow and turned his head toward it, relief flashing across his face. “That’ll be the medic,” he said, rising quickly. “I’ll grab the door. Be right back.”

As Josh opened the door, a middle-aged woman with a warm presence stepped in, carrying a small medical bag slung over one shoulder. She gave you a professional yet kind smile as she approached, her eyes scanning your pale face and the makeshift towel still pressed to your ear.

“Hi there, Hun,” she said warmly, setting her bag down on the floor beside the couch. “I’m Michelle. I hear you’ve hurt your ear, mind if I take a look?”

Josh lingered close, peering over Michelle's shoulder as she carefully knelt beside you, donning a pair of gloves and reaching for the towel. “Can I remove this?” she asked gently.

You nodded hesitantly, bracing yourself for the volume of the room. She pulled the towel away slowly, inspecting your ear with a practiced eye. Josh winced as the bloodied cloth revealed the full extent of the damage– dried blood mixed with a clear yellowish fluid that trickled from your ear.

“Yep, definitely a ruptured eardrum,” Michelle said, her voice calm but definitive. “The noise volume must’ve done it.” She frowned as she observed the sight, pulling out a flashlight from her shirt pocket and shining it down your ear canal. “There's a lot of fluid buildup…” she commented, mostly to herself. 

“Is that a bad thing?” you asked, and Josh squeezed your calf from where he could reach. 

“Not great… you’re going to have some trouble with hearing, and the pain won't be great, but I can write you a referral for some strong painkillers. Let me clean you up and give you some low level pain relief, honey.”

Josh’s hand found your knee, running his thumb over your skin comfortingly. “How long will it take to heal?” he asked, his voice tight with worry, looking back at his own injury that led to numerous cancelled shows and a painfully long recovery period.

“Shouldn’t be longer than 2 to 3 months to fully heal… as long as it doesn't get infected,” Michelle assured him, beginning to clean the area with a gentle touch. “The dizziness and nausea are from the damage to the inner ear, but they’ll subside as she heals. It’s important she takes it easy for the next few weeks especially, no loud environments, no sudden movements– and no flying either, the air pressure can worsen the injury. You need to keep the ear dry too to prevent infectious growth.”

Josh nodded, having heard the same instructions for his own ear, although he had forgotten about the no-flying rule. 

“Looks like we're gonna have to road trip it back home this time, Sweetheart,” Josh said, his eyes meeting yours as the medic wiped the fluid from where it had dried on your neck. 

You groaned, “We’re gonna have to split it into two days, the drive’s too long to manage at once,” you complained. 

Josh smiled sympathetically, “That's alright, we aren’t in a rush. I’ll book us a night at a fancy hotel along the way.”

“Drive carefully,” the medic intervened as she rummaged in her bag for something, “Driving can be really uncomfortable with all the movements and bumps. Once you’re home I suggest bedrest for at least a week, just to make sure you aren't exposed to any loud sounds. You probably wont want to leave bed either way with the dizziness… and the nausea.”

You muttered a sarcastic ‘great’ under your breath, but were surprised when you couldn't even hear yourself, the sound no longer being drowned out by ringing, but some kind of muffled blockage. 

Josh knelt beside the couch to be closer to you, his eyes darting between you and the medic. “That means it's your turn for couch duty, Beautiful. So no arguing when I’m waiting on you hand and foot this time.”

You managed a weak laugh, wincing as the movement tugged at the pain in your jaw. Josh immediately leaned closer, his face a mixture of apology and affection. 

Josh shook his head with a wry smile, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on the back of your hand. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not used to seeing you like this. Usually, you’re the one fussing over me.”

You gave a faint smile, your eyelids fluttering as the medic wiped away the last remnants of blood and discharge from your neck and squeezed a few drops of steroid solution into your ear canal. The cool liquid stung sharply and itched fervently as it travelled into your ear, and you hissed, squeezing Josh’s hand instinctively. His grip tightened in return, grounding you.

“All done,” Michelle reassured, her voice steady. “Just need to write you a referral and give you a rundown of what to watch for.” You nodded blankly, not quite hearing what she had said.

Josh shifted closer as she worked, his eyes never leaving your face. “You hear that? Almost done. Then we’ll get you all set up back at the hotel— blankets, snacks, whatever you want. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

“Josh,” you mumbled, your voice soft but laced with humor despite the ache in your head. “You’re acting like I’ve lost a limb.”

He feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. “You’re bleeding out, did you really expect me to react differently?” he joked.

Michelle stifled a chuckle, glancing at Josh. “Well, she’s not wrong— she isn’t ‘bleeding out,’ but it’s good to have someone looking after her. She’ll need plenty of rest and hydration.” Michelle sat back on her heels, peeling off her gloves with a practiced snap. She placed a bottle of pain relief and an antibiotic prescription on the small table beside the couch.

“Take these as directed,” she instructed, her tone firm but kind. “If the dizziness or nausea gets worse, or if the pain doesn’t improve in a couple of days, make sure you see a doctor. And no loud music for a while, alright?”

You nodded slowly, each motion calculated to avoid aggravating the throbbing pain. “Thank you,” you said, your voice faint but sincere.

Michelle packed up her kit and rose to her feet, addressing Josh. “She’ll be alright as long as she takes it easy. If you need anything, let the event staff know– they’ve got my number.”

Josh nodded, standing to see her out. “Thanks, Michelle. Really.”

As the door clicked shut, he turned back to you, his hands planted on his hips as if surveying the situation. “Alright, Missy,” he said, his tone playful but underpinned with care, “You’re officially banned from doing anything but lying here and letting me spoil you rotten.”

You smiled faintly, letting out a long, slow breath. “I think I can live with that.”

Josh grabbed a soft blanket draped over the back of the couch, spreading it gently across you. He settled beside you, his hand resting lightly on your arm. “Anything you need, you just say the word. Want to just lay here and cuddle? Or maybe we should watch one of those terrible reality shows you secretly love while we wait.”

You groaned dramatically, though a small grin tugged at your lips. “I’m not in the mood to see people throwing wine glasses at each other.”

“Well, how about I just sit here and look pretty for you, then?” he offered, leaning back with a mock-model pose that drew a reluctant laugh from you, quickly followed by a wince.

“Josh,” you muttered, “I told you, don’t make me laugh.”

His grin softened into something warmer as he reached out, brushing a knuckle lightly across your cheek. “Alright, Baby, no more jokes. Just rest. Once the crew is all packed up and we’re able to head back to the hotel you’ll be able to sleep. Won’t be long.”

A rough hour went by before someone came in to tell you both that it was time to go, and Josh tentatively helped you stand and walk to the van, messily clambering into the nearest seat with much difficulty. 

Turns out Jake had noticed the pyro malfunction too, with being so close to it like you, he told you his own ears were ringing from the blast, and he had even seen you wobble off stage as you struggled to fight against the dizzy aftermath.

“That's why you should always be on my stage side,” Sam boasted, “Jake's shit is always too loud.”

You smiled fondly at the banter, but couldn't find it in you to react with any semblance of real humour, as truthfully, you were struggling to follow the conversation at all. Their voices were entirely too quiet, and you questioned how they were even able to hear themselves. 

Josh patted your thigh from beside you, and when you looked his way, his mouth moved almost soundlessly. 

“Huh?” you asked, leaning in closer to hear. 

Josh frowned, not wanting to raise his voice so as to damage your hearing even more, but knowing how difficult it was for you to hear through your ruptured eardrum. He mouthed a ‘nevermind’ and sent you a sympathetic smile, kissing your forehead sweetly.

Once back at the hotel, your dizziness quelled. You bid your goodbyes to the others, before sluggishly retiring to your hotel room with Josh, who refused to leave your side. 

After helping you out of your clothes and into your pyjamas without tipping over, Josh wandered into the bathroom to get both of your toothbrushes ready.

“I’ll miss this hotel room, ya know? It was one of my favourites,” Josh said, making his way back towards you with your toothbrush. 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause it has jacuzzi jets in the bathtub,” you argued with a small smile before slotting the toothbrush into your mouth. 

He smiled and knelt before you, “Hmm maybe you’re right.” He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmmph,” you shrugged, unable to speak around the toothbrush and mouth full of foamy toothpaste. You winced when opening your jaw too wide sent a jolt of pain through the side of your head. 

Josh jutted his lip out, “My poor Baby. I’m sorry this happened to you lovely, I know it’s not fun.” You shrugged, feigning indifference despite the discomfort. Josh helped you stand to make it to the bathroom and spit your toothpaste out. You relieved yourself while he changed, and took some medication as he showered, before settling into bed. 

You sighed heavily once under the covers, watching as Josh waddled around, hands busy as he got your phones into their chargers and things ready for the morning, a toothbrush hanging limply from his mouth, and damp hair dripping water buds down his neck. 

“Alright,” he sighed as he messily rubbed his head with a towel before finally slipping into bed, leaning to switch the bedside light off and shuffling across the bed to reach you. He looped his arm beneath your back and pulled your body against his, letting your good ear rest against his chest. “How’s that? Comfy?”

You hummed a half response, never truly comfortable with the ache in your head, but as comfortable as you could be. As the silence settled in, you became painfully aware of a persistent ringing somewhere in the distance. You wondered if it may be coming from the mini fridge, or maybe the air conditioning, but as you lay there against Josh, wide awake, it grew apparently louder. 

“Josh?” you whispered, and he turned his head towards you, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

“Hm?”

“What’s that… What's that ringing? Can you shut it off?” You complained frustratedly, the ringing only making the pain and discomfort worse, nagging you relentlessly. 

“Shut what off?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“The ringing… it's so loud,” you waved a hand around the room, “Hurting my ear…”

He was silent for a moment, listening out for what you may be talking about, before he sniffed, “I don't think there's anything ringing in here, sweetheart. Probably just a bit of tinnitus.”

You huffed frustratedly, grumbling something about how difficult it would be to sleep through the noise, and Josh rubbed broad circles on your back with the flat of his palm comfortingly. 

“Aht aht,” he warned, taking your hand from your ear. You hadn't even noticed it travel to the injured spot, fingers moving to crawl in and scratch away the itch that had been faintly nagging you. “I know it’s itchy, beautiful, but touching it will only make it worse. Just try and rest now.” He spoke softly, whispering small words of reassurance, until he himself drifted off to sleep, no doubt exhausted from the travel, the performance, and caretaking.

Your night was long, and mostly sleepless. You tossed and turned, finding minimal comfort in any position as the fluid in your ear trickled around and throbbed. Your ‘uninjured ear’, although without medical attention, felt awful too. Constantly ringing, itching, and showing obvious signs that it was dangerously close to rupturing too.

By morning, Josh packed your bags and sorted everything out with the rental car, insisting you sat idle on the bed until he was done. Your frustration grew throughout the morning as you found yourself unable to hear him as he spoke to you, careful to keep a low volume to protect your hearing. Nevertheless, you pushed your annoyance aside, and let Josh hold you close as he led you out of the hotel and into the rental car. 

The nausea had mostly subsided, but the dizziness and disorientation remained, as well as the aching pain, but you tried your best to ignore it as Josh pulled out of the hotel parking lot and began the treacherous drive south. 

“Croissant?” Josh offered, handing you the wrapped pastry from across the centre console. You muttered a small thanks as you took the pastry from his hand. Though, when you peeled back the paper wrapping and exposed the tip of the croissant, taking a well deserved bite, a shot of pain spiralled through your jaw to your ear. 

"You alright, Honey?” Josh asked immediately, squeezing your thigh at the sound of your wince. 

“Yeah just… hurts to open my mouth,” you frowned, tearing a small piece of croissant off the pastry and shoving it between your lips, only parted slightly now. You grimaced when even the simple act of chewing hurt, and forced yourself to swallow the half-chewed piece of pastry.

Josh frowned, stealing a quick glance at you before turning his attention back to the road. “You don’t have to eat right now, Baby. I can stop later and get you something softer. Maybe soup or, I don’t know, mashed potatoes or something.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Gas station mashed potatoes for breakfast? Sounds gourmet.”

“Hey,” Josh shot back playfully, “I’m just looking out for you. I’d puree the damn croissant if I could.” He reached over again, rubbing his thumb gently over your knee. “We’ll figure it out. You just focus on taking it easy, okay?”

You nodded, letting the croissant sit forgotten in your lap as you leaned your head against the window, staring out at the passing scenery. The world outside blurred as the car rumbled along, each dip and bump in the road reverberating through you, tugging at the ache in your head. You breathed in slowly, willing yourself to stay calm and ignore the discomfort.

But the silence— or rather, the muffled quietness— felt oppressive. Even with Josh humming softly under his breath, you couldn’t escape the incessant, high-pitched ringing in both ears. It was relentless, like a mosquito that wouldn’t stop buzzing near your head. You shifted uncomfortably, rubbing at your temples.

“You okay?” Josh asked softly, sensing your restlessness.

“Yeah,” you murmured, though it wasn’t convincing. “It’s just… I can’t get used to the quiet.” You paused, searching for the right words. “I mean, it’s not quiet for me. It’s loud. I can’t—” You stopped, frustrated by how hard it was to explain.

Josh’s brows furrowed as he glanced at you again. “The ringing?”

You nodded miserably, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block it out. “It’s so loud, Josh. It’s driving me crazy.”

His hand found yours on your lap, warm and grounding. He squeezed gently. “I know, Baby. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must be.” He paused for a moment, as if considering something. “You know what Jake always told me when I burst my eardrum a couple years ago and had tinnitus?”

You cracked an eye open, tilting your head just enough to look at him. “What?”

“He got me to focus on something else. Anything else. The more attention you give the noise, the worse it feels. It’s like staring at a bright light– it burns into your vision.”

You frowned, skeptical. “That sounds… too easy.”

Josh grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe, but it always helped me. Here—” He turned the music on low, just a gentle hum of sound in the background. “Focus on this. Or count the trees we pass, or… hell, count how many times I say something annoying today.”

You laughed weakly, which only earned you a small wince. “It’s not hard to lose count with that one.”

Josh smirked, clearly pleased to see even a faint bit of humor from you. “See? You’re already distracted.”

It didn’t fix the ringing, not really, but it gave you something to latch onto besides the noise and discomfort. The ache in your head ebbed slightly as you focused on Josh’s soft singing over the radio, his voice smooth and steady, even at a whisper.

The hours crawled by, but Josh made sure you were as comfortable as possible. When you stopped for lunch, he insisted on finding a decent place that served soup, running inside himself to grab a warm takeaway container of something creamy and smooth while you waited in the car. He returned triumphantly with a container of tomato soup and a bottle of water, setting them carefully in your lap.

“Nothing but the best for my girl,” he said proudly, settling back behind the wheel.

You smiled faintly, wrapping your hands around the warm container as if it might soothe you. “I feel spoiled.”

“That’s the goal,” Josh replied, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. “Now eat up. Or... drink up, I guess? I need you feeling better so you can start bossing me around again.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The drive continued, the sunlight growing softer as the day stretched on. By the time you checked into the hotel halfway home, you were exhausted, the ache in your head sapping the last of your energy. Josh carried your bags inside, refusing to let you lift a finger as you trudged to the room.

As soon as you were in bed, propped up by pillows, Josh settled beside you with a sigh of his own. He reached for the remote, flipping idly through channels until he found some old sitcom playing softly in the background.

“Better?” he asked, nudging your shoulder gently.

You nodded, already feeling your eyelids grow heavy. “Better,” you murmured, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

Josh wrapped an arm around you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your arm. “Good. Get some sleep, Baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

The ringing persisted, faint and constant, but somehow, with Josh’s steady presence beside you, it didn’t seem quite so unbearable.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you felt was his hand brushing through your hair, his voice a quiet promise against your forehead: “We’ll get you home soon, I promise.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

By the time you pulled into the driveway of your home back in Nashville the next day, you were utterly drained. Josh parked the car and quickly came around to your side, gently helping you out and steadying you as you shuffled toward the front door. Your equilibrium was completely out of whack, the disorienting swirl of dizziness making every step feel uncertain.

As you crossed the threshold, Josh guided you to the couch, his hand firm but careful on your lower back. “Easy, Baby,” he murmured, helping you lower yourself onto the cushions. You leaned back with a groan, closing your eyes to block out the spinning world.

“I’m gonna make you some tea, alright?” he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before disappearing into the kitchen. You heard the clatter of mugs and the low whistle of the kettle, the muted sounds only reminding you of your muffled hearing.

Josh returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea and a warm smile. “Here,” he said, kneeling beside you and holding the cup carefully as you took a slow sip. “Good?”

You nodded, managing a faint smile. “Thanks.”

“Have you had your meds yet?” he asked, setting the tea on the coffee table.

“Not since this morning,” you admitted. Josh frowned and immediately got up, grabbing your pain relief and a glass of water from the kitchen. 

“I’ll go to the chemist first thing tomorrow to pick up the prescription painkillers.”

After making sure you’d taken the low level pain relief you had access to, he joined you on the couch, pulling a blanket over both of you. He settled in, gently moving you to rest your head on his chest. “Wanna pick something to watch or are you gonna try and catch some sleep?” he asked softly, scrolling through the options on the TV with one hand and stroking your head with his other.

You hummed, only hearing the last leg of his sentence, before closing your eyes, letting his warmth and the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing soothe you until you drifted off.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next couple of days were a blur of rest and quiet, but the pain only seemed to get worse. By the third day, it was unbearable— sharp, throbbing, and radiating down to your jaw and neck. Each time you swallowed or yawned, a pop of air shot into your ruptured eardrum. It had you clenching your teeth against the feeling and only making the pain worse, aggravating your mood alongside. You could barely move without wincing, and after a bit of convincing, you finally allowed Josh to drive you to the doctor.

The diagnosis wasn’t what you wanted to hear: your ear had become infected.

You sat on the exam table, your arms crossed and frustration written all over your face. Josh stood beside you, his hand resting protectively on your knee. “Shit,” he muttered, his brow creased with worry.

You huffed, trying to tamp down your irritation. “This sucks.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Josh said softly, giving your knee a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll get the antibiotics, and you’ll feel better soon. I’ve been through this before, remember? It sucks, but you’ll get through it.”

You sighed, nodding reluctantly as the doctor handed Josh the prescription and went over the treatment plan.

Back home, Josh wasted no time getting you settled into bed. He handed you your first dose of antibiotics along with some water, watching closely as you swallowed the pills. “How’s your jaw?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You mumbled a faint response, too sore to form proper words. Even the effort of speaking made your jaw ache, and Josh’s concern deepened as he tucked the blanket around you.

“Alright,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple. “Just rest, Baby. I’ll take care of everything.”

You drifted off almost immediately, the exhaustion and pain pulling you under. Josh stayed by your side for a while, watching you sleep with a worried expression before quietly retreating to the kitchen to make dinner.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

You woke up around seven in the evening, the smell of something delicious wafting through the room. Josh appeared in the doorway with a bright smile, carrying a bowl of soup. “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, setting the bowl on the nightstand. “I made your favorite— tomato soup with the little pasta pieces you like. Thought it’d be easy on your jaw.”

You smiled weakly, sitting up with his help as he placed the bowl in your hands. The soup was warm and flavourful, the broth soothing as you sipped it carefully. But by the time you reached the pasta pieces, the effort of chewing sent sharp pain shooting through your jaw.

You set the spoon down, your shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, guilt creeping into your voice. “It just hurts too much to eat.”

Josh’s face softened, and he shook his head immediately. “No, no, don’t apologize. It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want you to feel better.” You gave him a faint, grateful smile before leaning back against the pillows. He kissed your forehead, his thumb brushing gently over your hand. “Try to get some more rest, alright? I’ll clean up and be right back.”

You reached a hand out to him and whined at this, and he stopped his movements to look at you worriedly. 

“What’s wrong, Beautiful?” he asked, tucking away some hair from your forehead. 

“Can you come and lay with me?” you asked, your voice so soft and broken he thought he would melt. 

“Oh, Honey, of course,” he cooed, crawling over the mattress and situating himself beside you, pulling your body to lay across his. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, and wrapped your arms around him weakly, reaching for any form of connection. Josh soothed you with a flat palm on your back, stroking up and down carefully. 

“I hate this,” you admitted, voice muffled between the pillows and his body, cringing as you felt the sting of tears arrive. “I mean– I haven't even been able to cry about it, cause it just hurts too bad. I hate laying here all day just doing nothing. I hate it so much.”

Josh pulled your body closer, tightening his hold and kissing the top of your head before resting his cheek against it. “My poor girl. Sweet, sweet girl. You don't deserve this. I’m so sorry, my love. Is there anything else I can do?”

You shook your head, breathing in his natural fragrance and sighed, “Just hold me, please.”

You sounded so pained, so lost, and Josh couldn’t help but shrug you a little closer, “Of course, my love. You just need some tender love, I’ve got you.”

Josh continued to stroke your back, whispering soft words of endearment and comfort until you went limp in his arms. He sighed, ridden with distress at the state of you, weak and in pain. He dug through his memories in search for home remedies that helped him the most, but found that at that time in his life, the memories were foggy, clouded by some feverish haze. 

Lifting his hips slightly so as not to wake you, he fished in his back pocket for his phone, and pulled up Jake's contact, typing out a message, ‘I need your advice.’

Jake responded effectively immediately, and Josh slid out from beneath you, careful not to move you too much, and placed a pillow beneath you for you to hold in his absence. Jake's caller ID showed up the second Josh left the bedroom. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Jake asked casually. 

Josh wandered into the kitchen and began preparing himself some food for dinner, “What did you guys do to help me when I fucked up my ear? I can't remember,” he asked, diving straight to the point. 

Jake pondered silently across the line for a few beats, “Uhhh. Well you slept a lot, and we made sure to roll you onto your good side if we ever saw you sleeping on your ear,” he started. “Warm foods, like soups and stews and stuff. You never liked smoothies ‘cause I think the cold made your jaw ache more.”

Josh sighed– these were all things he already knew, and although they were helping you, they just weren't enough. “Is there anything else?” he prodded.

“Look Josh, healing takes time. She’s not gonna get better overnight. You have to give it time and be patient with her.”

Josh sighed. That was not what he wanted to hear. 

“Actually, something else that helped you,” Jake started, and Josh straightened, listening intently. “Danny did some research when our shows were cancelled, and apparently a warm compress with a soft massage on your neck and jaw and stuff really helped ease the pain. You loved it– knocked you out everytime you were up with pain.”

“That’s perfect, thank you.”

“But Josh, I’m serious when I say you gotta be patient. I mean, maybe she’s better at handling it than you, but you were pretty snappy sometimes. Don't take it personally if she gets frustrated with you, just… let her be upset.”

Josh nodded with a sigh, “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Jake. And thanks for dealing with me when I was being a dick.”

Jake laughed, “No problem, keep me updated.”

“Will do, love you.”

“Love you too, bye.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next morning, Josh woke up with you still curled up beside him, your face scrunched in a frown even in sleep. His heart twisted at the sight, wishing he could shoulder your pain instead. He lay there for a moment, gently brushing his fingers over your arm before you stirred awake, blinking slowly as if even that small action was an effort.

“Good morning, baby,” he said softly. “How’re you feeling?”

You let out a small, hoarse sound that wasn’t quite a word, shifting slightly under the blankets.

He sat up, concern etched on his face. “Would you like me to make you some breakfast? Your meds are due in a couple of hours, and I don’t want you taking them on an empty stomach.”

You murmured, “Mmm, not hungry,” your voice faint and muffled.

Josh sighed, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I know it hurts to eat,” he said carefully, “But I can make some porridge or oatmeal, so you won’t have to chew.”

Your eyes welled up at his kindness, the frustration of the past few days bubbling to the surface. You nodded slightly but winced at the movement, and Josh winced right along with you, his expression pained as though he could feel it himself.

“‘Kay,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll be right back.”

Josh returned a few minutes later with a small bowl of oats, the hot bowl carefully balanced in his hand. But when he saw your tear-streaked face, his heart broke all over again. Your eyes were red and puffy, and you sniffled quietly, trying to compose yourself.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he set the bowl down and sat beside you. He gently wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs, his touch impossibly tender. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, settling beside you on the bed. He watched you for a moment, so sad and defeated, and he knew only one thing could make you feel better in this moment. “Is it the cooking? Be honest,” he teased. "I mean, I never prided myself on being a great cook, but surely it's not bad enough to make you cry?"

A watery giggle escaped your lips despite yourself, and he grinned, clearly pleased with the small victory. “There it is. That’s what I needed to see. Don’t let this thing win, okay? You’ve got way too much fight in you for that.”

He reached over, wiping your tears with his thumbs before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “You’ve survived worse things. Remember when you sat through that whole documentary on the making of The Godfather? Yeah, this infection has nothing on that.”

You laughed softly, the sound barely there but enough to make his grin widen. “There’s my girl,” he murmured. “Now, let’s get you fed so we can put this mean old infection in its place.”

You nodded faintly, and he helped you take a few spoonfuls of the porridge. It wasn’t much, but it was enough, and soon after, he helped you take your medication.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

About an hour later, you stirred from a restless nap, your body tense with discomfort. “Josh?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He was by your side in an instant. “What do you need, baby?”

You hesitated, embarrassed. “I… I need to pee.”

“Okay,” he said gently, sliding an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

You swayed as he guided you to the bathroom, his arm steady around your waist. By the time you reached the toilet, you were too exhausted and in too much pain to care as he helped you sit down, his movements respectful and careful.

“Take your time,” he said softly, stepping back into the bedroom to give you as much privacy as he could while still being there to support you.

When you were done, he helped you back to bed, tucking you in with a concerned smile. “Want to watch a movie?” he offered, his voice light but tentative.

You let out a faint hum of agreement, snuggling close to him as he pulled you into his side. The warmth of his body and the steady beat of his heart were comforting, though he couldn’t ignore how quiet and weak you seemed.

It broke him to see you like this, so far from your usual self, but he stayed strong for you, scrolling through options before settling on Gilmore Girls.

A few minutes in, you tilted your head toward him. “Can you turn it up? I can’t hear it.”

Josh reached for the remote and turned up the volume a couple of notches. “How’s that?”

“More, please?” you mumbled, frowning.

He paused, looking down at you with a worried expression as he gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. “It’s already pretty loud, baby,” he said softly. “The doctor said to keep things quiet until the infection’s gone at least, remember?”

You huffed, your frustration clear as you turned your face away slightly. “Fine,” you muttered, saying nothing more.

Josh pressed his lips into a thin line, still watching you. After a moment, he offered gently, “How about I turn on the subtitles?”

You blinked up at him, your hearing so muddled that you asked, “Turn on what?”

“Subtitles,” he repeated patiently.

“Oh. Okay, yeah,” you said, your voice tinged with exhaustion. He turned them on, and though it helped a bit, you were still annoyed by how much effort it took to follow the show.

Midway through the episode, you dozed off again, your body giving in to the fatigue. Josh watched you for a moment, his heart heavy with worry and love. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he whispered, “Sleep well, my love.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

The next morning, Josh woke to find you already awake, sitting cross legged at the head of the bed with your shoulders hunched, your fingers pressed against your jaw. He frowned as he sat up, hair sticking out in messy tufts.

“Baby,” he mumbled, voice raspy with sleep. “What are you doing up so early? It's barely light out.”

You glanced over at him, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “It hurts,” you whispered. “And it’s so itchy, Josh. I can’t stand it.”

Your hand drifted toward your ear, but before you could touch it, Josh was already moving. Gently but firmly, he caught your wrist and pulled it away.

“Hey, no,” he said, his voice a mixture of concern and gentle authority. “You’re not supposed to scratch or touch it, remember? Doctor’s orders.”

“It’s itchy,” you whined, a tear slipping down your cheek. “And it hurts so much.”

“I know,” he soothed, letting go of your wrist to brush the tear away with his thumb. “But the itching means it’s healing. I promise, baby, you’ve just gotta let it be.”

You sighed heavily, your hand falling limply into your lap as you fought the urge to argue. “Fine,” you muttered, clearly irritated but resigned. “Can I at least have some painkillers or something? My head is pounding.”

Josh nodded immediately. “Of course, my love. I’ll get them for you.”

He slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water, two pills, and a peeled mandarin.

“Here,” he said, setting everything down on the nightstand. “But you need to eat this first,” he instructed, holding the mandarin out to you. You frowned at him but took one slice of the mandarin anyway, biting down gingerly. Almost immediately, you winced and set it back on the plate.

“I can’t, it hurts too much” you said, frustrated and reaching for the pills, “I’ll just take them.”

He shook his head gently, moving the pills from your reach and causing your frown to deepen. “Not on an empty stomach,” he said patiently. You rolled your eyes. “You know that. It’ll make you feel worse."

"I don't care, Josh, just let me take them," you insisted, rather angrily, leaning to grab them, only for Josh to pull them further from your reach, knowing you would be too dizzy to move and get them yourself. Frustration boiled and bubbled in your chest.

"How about I grab you some soup to eat instead?” he suggested.

“I don’t want soup!” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended. “All I’ve had for the past week is soup, and I’m sick of it! Just…” you trailed off, struggling to find the words that explained your frustration. You hated this, but you hated being mean to Josh even more.

Josh froze for a moment, startled by the outburst. Then, instead of reacting defensively, he exhaled slowly and sat back on the bed, his expression softening.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice calm and measured. “I get it. You’re tired, and you’re hurting. Let’s try something different.”

You looked down at your hands guiltily. “I’m sorry, that was mean. You’re only trying to help, I just–”

“It’s okay, Sweetheart. I get it,” he said softly, stopping you from dwelling.

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm gently. “Why don’t we take a minute to ease the pain first, hmm? Jake told me a warm compress should help, and then we’ll figure out something for food. Yeah?”

You didn’t answer, but you didn’t stop him as he left the room. When he returned, he had a heat pack in one hand and a reassuring smile on his face.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, climbing onto the bed beside you. “Let’s get you comfy. Lay down on your tummy for me.”

Reluctantly, you shifted to lie on your front, your head resting just beside his thigh against the mattress with your bad ear facing up, just as the doctors had advised you. He gently tugged at the collar of your shirt, pulling it aside to expose your neck and shoulder.

“This might feel a little warm at first, tell me if it’s too hot” he warned as he pressed the compress against your jaw. The soothing heat spread immediately, coaxing a small sigh of relief from you.

“Good?” he asked softly, his fingers beginning to work along your jawline.

“Mhm,” you mumbled, the tension in your body starting to ease as your eyes fluttered shut against the sensation.

Keeping the compress balanced over your jaw, he pressed his thumbs, warmed by the heat pack, over the taught muscles of your neck. They moved in slow, deliberate strokes, kneading the muscles that had been tight with pain. He worked up your neck, towards the base of your skull, his touch firm but gentle, careful not to press too hard.

He smiled as you sunk into the mattress with a groan. “There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “That’s my girl. Just relax for me.”

You whimpered softly in relief as his fingers found a particularly tight spot near the base of your neck. He chuckled lightly, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Sounding like you’re enjoying this a little too much,” he teased, a playful smile on his lips.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against the side of his leg.

He laughed quietly, clearly relieved to see even a flicker of your usual self as his fingers moved to your shoulder. He worked on the knots there, his hands strong but tender as he massaged away the tension.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, his thumbs working magic along your shoulder blade, “if I ever quit the band, maybe I’ll open a massage studio. What do you think? ‘Josh’s Soothing Touch’— catchy, right?”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “You’d need a better name. Sounds like a brothel.”

He gasped dramatically. “Wow. Critique from my number one client already? Tough crowd.”

You smiled faintly, the combination of his warmth, humour, and touch making the pain feel a little less overwhelming. After a minute, he replaced the heat pack from your jaw to your neck, reaching round to grasp your face softly with his hand, the pad of his thumb gently kneading into the muscle of your jaw.

He massaged you there for a little while, before moving the heat pack back to your jaw, and continuing massaging your neck instead.

“Thank you, my love. For taking care of me. I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft but sincere as you broke the comfortable silence.

“Anything for you, my sweet girl. I love you too, Beautiful,” he replied, pressing another kiss to your temple as his fingers continued their careful work. “Now, no more talking, just relax, okay?”

And as the loving magic of his touch pressed in against the overwhelming pain you had been fighting, you finally began to feel a little more like yourself again.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸‪‪

Tag List ~ @allof--mylove

Complete the google form here to be added to a permanent taglist for any future fics!

[steviebbboi]

Ordinary is Ordinary

Chap 01/02: Steve meets Gem

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Gem)

Rating: Teens and up!

Summary: You viewed life as it was: ordinary. To you, life was an endless cycle of simply trying to make ends meet. People work, sleep and wake up to do it all over again. A chance encounter with a certain captain challenges your philosophy of what is considered to be ordinary.

A/N: Fluff on fluff, a meet cute with Steve and Gem! This is a two-parter that I also wrote around 2018. There's not many warnings other than getting ready for some teeth-rotting sweetness from Steve. Hope you enjoy reading :)

Coffee dividers by @thecutestgrotto - Thank you so much for creating these!

Diamond divider by @firefly-graphics - wonderful work as always! Thank you sm!

"Chris, why not?" You asked desperately.

"I'm sorry, but I can't make ten orders of coffee while I have a line of customers behind you." The barista said reluctantly.

"You know that my boss will kill me if I don't get these coffees in by 8:00." You begged imploringly.

Chris responded with a slight tilt to his lips, "I know, gem, but I'm sorry, I can't. My boss already scolded me because of that huge lineup from before!"

"Chris, I'm sorry but please, you know that I need this job," You leaned in close, "Without this job, I won't even get a scolding— I'll just get fired and you know it!"

Chris looked at you sympathetically, "Gem, I know. But if I serve your order again with customers behind you trying to get their own morning coffee before 8, then my boss will kill me and then I'll lose my job. You're going to have to either wait for the line to pass or find another cafe."

You were ready to fight one last time, quite keen on keeping your job, until a voice behind you spoke up.

"Hey, I'll get half of whatever she gets."

The guilt that you were feeling doubled down and you instantly turned around to shoot down the stranger's request until you saw his face.

The man was tall, built and broad shouldered. He had a clean shaven face that showed his cutting edge jaw line. He was rocking a full head of brown-blonde hair and wore a simple dark, navy blue flannel and black jeans. In other words—

The man was fucking gorgeous.

Chris looked as dumbfounded as you did, "Uhh, sir..."

Chris' stammering broke you out of your weird staring contest with the guy’s oddly attractive forearms and decided to shift your gaze to his blue eyes, "Sir, don't worry— you really don't have to do that."

The man gently smiled, "Don't worry, ma'am. Honestly, I don't mind waiting."

Chris finally spoke again, "Sir, that is very generous of you but are you sure?"

You quickly interjected as you could see that the attractive man was about to persist with his request. "Chris, you know what? Just cancel my orders— it's totally fine. I'll go somewhere else."

You gave the guy another thanks, and heard him call for you as you walked to the exit, but you ignored him and walked back outside into the brisk, cold air. You groaned in exasperation, realizing that you were going to have to Yelp another cafe during rush hour.

You waited outside, yelping other locations for about 10 minutes when you heard the front door of the cafe swish open and close. You were so preoccupied with your phone that you didn't feel the towering presence next to you. You looked up and realized that the hot guy was carrying one bag that was carrying three trays of coffee in one hand and, in the other, another tray of coffee.

You looked up from the bag to his eyes and said warily, "Hi?"

The man smirked a bit, "Hey, I know that you said that you'd find another cafe but I saw you standing outside after you left and decided to just buy it anyway." He handed you the bag and you took it wordlessly.

"Why would you buy ten cups of coffee for a complete stranger?" You asked him skeptically. You supposed you should be flattered but in New York, you never know.

"Let's just say that I've been in a position of risk before. From the smallest things, just like needing to buy ten cups of coffee every morning to putting yourself in the front lines. I get it." He smiled and nodded, as if he expected you to understand.

Even more confused, you shook your head, "Well, at least let me pay you back." You reached for your wallet.

"Honestly, Gem, don't worry about it. It was good talking to you." The man nodded and walked away with his tray.

You frowned as you stared at his departing back, noticing that he referred to you as Chris did at the cafe. He must think that’s your name (but really, the nickname comes from chatting up your barista for the past five years). But also– the front lines? Risk? Also, why would a stranger, a hot stranger, buy your job's coffee? You had so many questions and the man just walked away.

Your curiosity getting the better of you, you turned and saw the man walking down the sidewalk before finally turning on Montague street. You quickly made up your mind to follow him while shouting, "Hey, sir! Wait!"

You ran down the block and made the right turn. However, your attempts in catching the guy were futile as he seemed to have disappeared as quickly as he appeared behind you at the coffee shop.

You huffed in frustration and looked at your watch. Grateful to have some time to yourself, you caught a cab to go to work. In the car, you couldn’t stop thinking about the strange handsome man.

Now, you were no stranger to the movies and books showing romantic "meet cutes" and other such notions. When a man buys a girl a drink, alcoholic or not, it's hard to not read between the lines.

"But the way he spoke to me...it doesn't make any sense." You thought to yourself. "It almost seemed like he was genuinely just happy to fix the problem."

Maybe he was just a handy sort of a guy who likes to help others. A "true humanitarian." Then again, he could also be a complete psycho who thrives off helping women in coffee shops.

You shook your head to rid yourself of this morning’s odd experience. "I'm just going to take it in stride. A hot guy bought your coffee, which saved your job, which basically saved your life. Be grateful."

You plastered a smile onto your face as you swiped your ID into the turnstiles and went about your day as usual.

It wasn't until you got home and turned on the news that you saw another Earth invasion—this time with what looked to be transformers.

It wasn't until you got into bed, did you realize who exactly bought you coffee and saved your life.

Your eyes were resting softly as you thought about the news coverage on what transpired in South Korea and Sokovia. The footage showed all of the Avengers fighting as the city of Sokovia floated above the ground.

With a shock, your eyes opened wide at your next thought, "Captain America bought my coffee."

What do we think?? Love a NYC meet cute honestly. Comments/likes/reblogs are welcome and so appreciated, thank you for reading :)

Read the last part here.

Main Masterlist

[kinglivv]

Leaving Her

Kate Stewart x g!n reader

Summary: When you and Kate’s relationship gets rocky, you run away with the Doctor. Four months later, your run in with the Toymaker forces you to confront each other.

Warnings: None

A/N: because not enough attention is paid to the fact that kate uses guns now ALL the time

You find her outside, smoking.

“I thought you’d quit.” You state.

“Yeah well,” she taps away the ash, “we all have our vices.”

You don’t really want to be out here on the helipad with Kate. It’s raining for one, and you’d been managing quite successfully to avoid being left alone with her. However, as the adrenaline of day wore off, you found yourself in desperate need to get out of the command room. The walls were closing in and you hadn’t breathed fresh air in 12 hours.

And there she is.

She’s a vision against the London skyline, blonde hair still somehow perfectly neat and brown eyes still longing, threatening to draw you in.

You remind yourself that you hate her.

You stand next to her for a few silent moments, leaving a healthy distance between you as you regard the view over London.

“You didn’t visit,” she says suddenly.

“Why would I?”

“I just thought…” Kate shakes her head, refusing to look and you and taking another puff. She waves a hand exasperatedly, “It was like you were there one day and gone the next.”

“There was a bit more build up to it than that and you bloody well know it,” you snort. “Late at the office every night. Cancelling our anniversary trip. Forgetting my birthday. It may as well been you who upped and disappeared.”

“You’ve seen my work here. You think I can just abandon it?” she snaps, waving to the building behind. The wind whips around you and her words are carried away.

“You have a second in command, Kate,” you snap back, “You’re allowed to delegate. Have an actual life outside your job.” You want to smack your head against a wall. Months apart and here you were, back again having the same argument you’d had a million times before.

“You knew this wasn’t a normal nine to five when you got with me.”

“Yeah but you changed, Kate,” you almost yell. “Look at you. Where’s the woman who used to take me out to dinner every Friday? Where’s the woman who used to drive me out to the countryside to stargaze? You’re a workaholic.”

“You don’t get to come in here and lecture me after running away with her for the last four months.” She spits.

And there it is. Laid bare. How nights sleeping on the sofa, endless arguments and weeks worrying she was having an affair had culminated in you taking up the Doctor’s invite to travel with her. It was her smile, her humour, her energy, her short blonde hair and brown eyes. If you squinted, the Doctor could be anyone you wanted her to be. You’d packed a bag and left not only your Kate but your planet. It felt like no where was far away enough.

And now the Doctor had regenerated, replaced by someone you didn’t quite recognise anymore, and that had only given you more time to think about all you’d left behind.

“The divorce papers arrived, by the way.” she breaks the silence, “Do you want me to sign them?”

That’s another punch to the gut. Distantly, it strikes you that you haven’t been home in so long that you hadn’t checked your mail. You opt not to answer her.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. Voices carry over from inside the command deck, presumably Ibrahim issuing clean-up orders or the Doctor catching up with his old friends. You shiver in the cold of the helipad. Horns honk in the streets below.

“Since when did you use guns?” You ask quietly, because the silence is agony.

It was something that had been bugging you the minute you got off the TARDIS. Kate Lethbridge Stewart, the woman who was supposed to be reforming UNIT, leading with science and not weapons, had been so eager to whip out a side piece the minute there had been any hint of danger. You’d flinched when she’d so breezily ordered her men to open fire, as if it were a well-rehearsed, familiar line. The woman you’d married had abhorred violence.

Her cigarette struggles in the rain, and she curses under her breath, pulling out her lighter. You watch her, really watch her for the first time that day. You notice the deeper crow lines around her eyes, the hair that isn’t as cropped as she usually preferred it.

“It’s practical,” she eventually offers as explanation.

“I seem to remember you saying you dragged UNIT kicking and screaming to get them to put down their guns.”

“UNIT is a military operation. We’ve always used guns.”

“Yeah but I mean you, Kate.” You reply, “That handgun is new.” You glance at it holstered on her hip.

She shifts self-consciously, shrugging so that her blazer falls over it, obscuring it from your view. It’s a nice blazer. New you think, and it suits her very well. You blink, trying not to get distracted by her figure or that strong hand clutching the cigarette.

“The Colonel and I thought it would be wise for me to carry one after the Cyberman siege on our old office.”

“The one you blew up?”

“Yes,” she laughs bitterly.

“Why now?” You argue, “You’ve seen off the Zygons, the Master, Sontarons. Why start carrying a weapon now?”

She twists her wedding ring. She’s still wearing it you realise, and you look down at your naked fingers in unexpected guilt.

“They tried to convert me,” she confesses. “They were this close to managing it and I only just got away. Had me tied to the chair and everything.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at her, this women who you knew inside and out, who you had dedicated the last three years of your life to. This woman who had seen you cry and laugh. This woman who held you in bed at night and this woman who you had run from. You want to reach out to her, to promise her she’s safe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask instead.

“Didn’t know how,” she shrugs. “Kind of worst case scenario, isn’t it? Nothing compares to a cyberman.”

You silently agree with her. Of all the monsters in the universe you’d come across, none could strike fear into you quite like the metallic, robotic Cybermen could. There was nothing more violating than the prospect of having your emotions stripped away and your body turned into fodder.

“I think I started working longer to stop thinking about it,” she adds. “I mean, there was the big clean-up operation afterwards which took a lot of time, and after that I just found it easier to not stop.”

Shame floods your body. All this time she’d been hurting and you’d abandoned her. You can’t help yourself, you slide an arm around her waist, and then another, pressing your front to her back and burying your face into her shoulder. She still fits in your embrace perfectly, and her hand - the one that isn’t clutching the fag like a rubber ring - cautiously reaches to cover yours.

“I’m sorry Kate,” you murmur. “I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“No,” you feel her shake her head, “God I hate you for it but leaving me forced me look at things. I haven’t been good to you. I am a workaholic. And somewhere along the line I stopped being a wife.”

You blink back tears and press a kiss to her jaw.

“Don’t sign the papers,” you whisper.

[skateordiebitch]

SHAMPOO BOTTLES || D.F x READER

'i've been leaving your shampoo bottles

over in the corner there,

sitting empty on the bathtub rail,

wishing they could wash your hair'

summary: in which you and dominic struggle with your relationship as his rising fame causes him to shut you out. after the breakup, dominic is haunted by remnants and memories of you.

word count: 2.8k (geez)

inspired by the song 'shampoo bottles' by peach pit! it's so so so good. this one was so fun to write tbh. i actually really like it. (rare) i hope you guys enjoy! serving angsty realness.

Dominic had always had big dreams, and you’d loved that about him. Watching him rise in his career, achieving things he’d worked so hard for, had been one of the most inspiring parts of your relationship. 

But as his fame grew, so did the walls he started to build around himself. 

The late nights and the constant phone calls became routine, and even when he was with you, his mind was somewhere else, lost in the endless demands of his new world.

It had started with small things. 

At first, he’d be too tired to spend time with you after long days on set or long nights in the studio, brushing off plans or canceling dinner dates at the last minute. 

He’d apologize with a quick smile, sometimes even joke about it, saying, “Next time, I’ll make it up to you.” 

But, next time always turned into weeks, then to months.

Every promise to spend time together became hollow, and you felt yourself slipping further into the background of his life.

One night, you sat at home, waiting for him to come back from an event. You’d dressed up, hoping he’d keep his word to take you out afterward. 

But when he finally came in, smelling of champagne and laughter from the party, his eyes were glazed with exhaustion. 

He barely acknowledged you, drunk and slumped on the couch. Scrolling through his phone and answering texts, already tuned out of the moment you’d been waiting for.

“Did you have fun?” you asked, trying to hide the bitterness in your voice.

“Yeah, it was chill. Just the usual,” he muttered, barely looking up. 

Silence stretched between you, tense and uncomfortable. You were tired of waiting for scraps of his attention, tired of feeling like a stranger in your own relationship. 

But when you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed you off, assuring you it was just a “busy phase” and that things would calm down soon. 

Yet weeks passed, and nothing changed. 

It was as if the more he gained in the public eye, the less he had to give to you.

The night of your breaking point, you were supposed to meet him at an after party for fashion week—  he was the face of the brand. 

You’d dressed up, feeling a rare glimmer of excitement at the thought of spending time together. But when you arrived, he was already lost in a sea of flashing lights and adoring fans. 

You tried to catch his eye, tried to share a moment just between the two of you, but he was swept up in the whirlwind, smiling for photos and mingling with people you’d never even met. You felt invisible, like you were standing on the sidelines of his life, watching him drift further and further away.

After the event, you’d argued in the car, your voice barely holding back the hurt and frustration that had been building for months. 

“Dominic, it’s like I don’t even exist to you anymore!” you said, your voice shaking. “I’m here, but you’re somewhere else entirely. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending this doesn’t hurt me.”

He’d stared out the window, visibly annoyed, brushing you off as if your concerns were just an inconvenience. 

“You knew this was my dream. To do what I love and to be able to provide for the people I love,” he replied, his tone defensive. “This is what I’ve been working all my life for, and I thought you understood that. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because I miss you, Dominic,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I miss us. I feel like I’m losing you to all of this, and you don’t even see it.”

That night, he’d gone quiet, dismissing you with a final, tired sigh. 

“Maybe we just need a break,” he’d said, his words cutting through you like a knife… 

And that was it. You walked away, feeling as if the person you’d once loved was already a memory.

Days turned into months, and silence settled between you like a heavy weight. You told yourself that you were moving on, but every small reminder of him—the way your clothes still smelled faintly of his cologne, the texts you still reread late at night—kept him painfully present in your mind.

Meanwhile, Dominic’s life seemed to carry on as usual, the public eye unable to see the cracks in his crafted image. 

Weeks passed, and Dominic struggled to adjust to the silence of his apartment. Everywhere he looked, there were remnants of you—your empty shampoo bottle on the edge of the bathtub, a half-read book on the nightstand, the sweater you always borrowed from him draped over the back of the chair. Each item was a sharp reminder of your absence, of the hole he’d carved into his life by not being honest with you.

Every time he saw your things, he felt like they were taunting him, reminding him of the life you’d once shared. 

Friends had told him he needed to let go, but he couldn’t. It was like he was keeping the pieces of you close, as if they’d somehow bring you back.

One night, he sat alone in the dark, running his fingers along the edge of your shampoo bottle, remembering the times he’d watched you shower, laughing as you flicked water at him, blowing suds in his face. 

Those small, ordinary moments had been his favorite—no crowds, no noise, just you and him. The emptiness of the apartment now felt like a punishment he couldn’t escape.

He’d tried to date again, to distract himself with new faces and empty conversations, but every time he came home, it was like he was haunted by you. 

He’d stare at the bathroom, at the last remnants of your routine, and wonder why he hadn’t fought harder. 

You’d wanted all of him, but he’d been too scared to give it. He’d spent so long keeping a distance that he’d lost the one person who’d seen through every barrier he put up.

One night, he was pacing in the kitchen, trying to drown out the guilt with another drink, when he finally broke down and picked up his phone, dialing your number. He didn’t expect you to answer, but when you did, he froze, the words caught in his throat.

“It’s me,” he said softly, almost afraid you’d hang up. “I… I know I’m the last person you want to hear from, but… I can’t keep pretending that I’m fine without you. I’m not. I never was. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You hesitated, your voice tired but tinged with curiosity. “What are you sorry for, Dominic?”

He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his mistakes. 

“For shutting you out. For making you feel like you weren’t enough, even though you were everything to me. I… I was afraid. I didn’t know how to let you in, and I didn’t even realize it until you left.”

“Dominic, you didn’t just shut me out. You made me feel like I was crazy for wanting more from you. Do you have any idea how hard it was to feel like I was always waiting on you to show up?” Your voice cracked, a painful reminder of the heartbreak he’d caused.

He swallowed, the guilt overwhelming. “I know, and I hate that I did that to you. I thought that if I kept things light, kept some space, it’d be easier. But, all I did was push you away.”

There was a pause, and he could almost feel the weight of your disappointment through the phone. “I don’t know if I can go back to that, Dominic. It hurt too much.” You begin to cry, “And seeing these paparazzi photos of you, you and other girls… You look like everything is fine. Like nothing changed. Like you’re better without me.”

He closed his eyes, gripping the phone like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. 

“Y/N, I’ve tried to ignore the feeling without you, but everywhere I look, there are reminders. Your favorite mug is still on the counter, right where you left it. I haven’t moved your shampoo bottle from the edge of the tub… I just keep thinking, one day, you’ll come back for it.”

You were quiet on the other end, letting him talk, letting him unravel.

“And the blanket on the couch… it’s the one you always used,” he continued, his voice softening. “I haven’t touched it, you know? It’s stupid, I know it is, but I can still see you curled up with it, watching whatever ridiculous show you’d put on to make me laugh.”

He laughed weakly, the sound brittle. 

“You know, I tried to pack up your things once. I thought it’d make it easier. But… every time I started, I couldn’t do it. I’d pick something up—a sweater you left behind, a book you were halfway through—and it was like… letting go of that would mean letting go of you.”

You exhaled, the weight of his words sinking in, but you didn’t interrupt, letting him spill what he’d kept bottled up.

“It’s like you’re here, but you’re not, and it drives me insane.” His voice wavered, a raw honesty bleeding through. “I want to move forward, but I keep going back, replaying everything I should’ve done differently, and the more I try, the more I realize… it was all right there, and I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you.”

There was a pause as you absorbed his words, feeling them pull at something tender and unresolved inside you. 

He sounded different—vulnerable in a way you hadn’t heard before, like he was finally saying everything he should have said back when it could’ve made a difference.

“Dominic,” you started, your voice cautious, “I don’t know if saying this now is enough to change anything. I… I was always there, waiting for you to notice, to care enough to make space for me. And you didn’t. It hurt, every single time I tried to get close and you shut me out.”

You could hear his sharp intake of breath, as if he hadn’t expected to hear the truth so plainly. 

“I know,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And I hate myself for it. I thought I could handle everything on my own—that you’d understand somehow without me having to say it. But I was wrong. I see that now. And… I’d give anything to go back and do it differently.”

The quiet on the line was thick, heavy with everything unsaid between you. 

You wanted to believe him; you wanted to think this was real, that he could be the person you needed, but there was still a part of you that was wary, still hurting from the times you spoke only to be met with silence.

“Why should I believe you, Dominic?” you asked softly, your voice tinged with a cautious bitterness. “What’s different now?”

He hesitated, and you could feel him grappling with the answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, laced with an honesty you hadn’t heard before.

“Because I lost you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “And now I can’t escape the empty space you left behind. I see you in every part of my life, and it’s like… it’s like my whole world lost its color without you. You were what kept me grounded, even when I didn’t realize it. And I’m not asking you to just forgive me and forget everything that happened. I know I have to earn that. I just… I don’t want to be this person anymore. I want to be better—for you, for myself. Just… give me the chance to try.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his words, the way they stirred up both hope and pain. 

A part of you wanted to fall back into the familiar comfort of what you once had, but another part was screaming at you to be cautious, to protect yourself from the same heartache all over again.

After a long silence, you spoke, your voice soft but firm. 

“I need more than promises, Dominic. I need actions. I need to see that you’re willing to change, to really let me in this time. I can’t keep going back to an empty relationship just because we can’t let go of each other.”

“I know,” he said, and you could hear the resolve in his voice. “I’ll prove it. I don’t want this to just be words. I want to show you. I need to show you.”

You took a shaky breath, feeling the last bit of resistance in you waver. 

“Alright… but just know, this is it, Dominic. This isn’t going to be a repetitive cycle. I’m not gonna keep going through this over and over. If you’re going to prove it, then it has to be real… I have to know that this won’t happen ever again.”

“I promise, Y/N,” he said, the desperation in his voice raw, unfiltered. “I’ll make it real. I want to be the guy you deserve, someone who shows up, who doesn’t make you feel like an afterthought. I don’t want to keep doing this from a distance. I need you to know that I mean it. Just… thank you for giving me this chance.”

You stayed quiet, letting his words sink in, unsure if this new beginning could really work, but feeling a glimmer of hope all the same. 

The weight of the past still lingered between you, but now, there was a possibility—a chance that maybe, just maybe, this time, things would be different.

As he hung up, he felt a strange mixture of relief and resolve. 

The apartment, once filled with reminders of what he’d lost, now felt like a place where he could begin again. 

He knew it would take more than apologies and empty promises; it would take showing up, being vulnerable, and proving that he was willing to put in the effort. But for the first time, he was ready. He had lost you once, and he wasn’t going to lose you again.

Over the next few weeks, Dominic showed up—every time, without fail.

He didn’t just fill the air with promises this time. He showed up. Every text, every phone call, every little act was a reminder that he wasn’t going to let you down. He didn’t back away when things got hard, and instead of leaving you to guess how he felt, he let you in, talking about his fears, his struggles, and, more importantly, his hopes for a future with you. 

With every conversation, every moment he chose to open up instead of shutting down, he proved that he was willing to do the hard work, to put you first this time.

It was a long road, but day by day, he showed you that he was serious. The fame, the parties, the distractions—they had lost their appeal. All that mattered to him was rebuilding the connection he’d carelessly fractured. And in time, you saw the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet resolve that told you he was finally ready to let you in.

One rainy evening, after a quiet dinner he’d prepared himself, the two of you sat on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket you’d once claimed as your own. 

The air was filled with the quiet hum of the storm outside, but inside, there was a calm you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Dominic turned to you, his eyes soft but determined.

“I know I have a lot to make up for,” he said, his hand reaching to take yours. “But I’ve missed you every day, more than I knew was even possible. Being with you like this… it feels like home. This is the one thing fame could never compete with.”

You looked at him, taking in the rawness in his gaze, the way his hand trembled just a bit in yours. 

He’d done the work, brick by brick, to rebuild the trust he’d broken. And standing here now, you felt the last bit of that wall crumble between you.

With a hesitant smile, you whispered, “I missed you, too… You know, you really have shown me that you care— And I can’t thank you engouh for that.”

Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, pausing just inches from your face, his breath warm against your skin. 

“Well… thank you for giving me that chance.”

Slowly, he closed the space between you, his lips soft, gentle, but full of emotion. It wasn’t like the kisses from before—the rushed, half-hearted pecks where his mind was miles away. 

This time, he was fully present, pouring every ounce of himself into that kiss as if trying to tell you, without words, that he was here and he was staying.

When you finally pulled back, his hand brushed along your cheek, his eyes filled with a new kind of warmth. 

“This is where I’m meant to be. With you.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, feeling a calm settle over you that you hadn’t felt in ages. 

And as the rain tapped softly against the windows, the two of you sat there, together at last, knowing that this time, it was real.

[happiest-hotch]

Appreciation

a/n: so i was watching Don't Worry, Darling for the first time and all I could think about was the dining room table scene with Aaron, so I had to write it

Summary: You cook your husband dinner and he makes sure you get the appreciation you deserve

CW: oral sex (fem receiving)

WC: 1.5k

There's an evergrowing list of things you love about your life post-BAU. The reason you had to go into WITSEC was terrifying, and it changed your world and perception of security, but now that you're out of protective custody, things are better than ever.

Vermont being so beautiful helps, as does the lack of stress from Aaron choosing not to return to Quantico and his endless list of Unit Chief duties. After being with Aaron for a crazy six years, the slower-paced life is perfect. There are no missed dates and mutual guilt because Aaron always felt terrible for canceling last minute, and you felt bad that he felt bad. 

One of your favorite things is when he comes back from work. There's more than enough money between his FBI 'retirement' and your shared investments for him not to work, but he's thrived off structure for so many years that he's not ready to give it up. His hours are nothing like when he was at the BAU. There are no missed holidays, and he's never missed a school event of Jack's.

That morning, Aaron told you he'd be home 'late,' which is 6 pm these days, not 2 am. Although Fridays are date nights, you like surprising him, and you've got a few extra hours, so it seems like the perfect chance to make a more elaborate meal.

You're just turning off the oven to let the roast sit when you hear Aaron's key in the door. Excitedly, you skip over to greet him. 

"Hey, handsome." You say with a grin. Aaron in a suit is a pleasure you get to see every day.

He puts his bag and keys down on the side table. "It smells amazing in here." He notes. "Did you make a pork roast?"

You nod, not having the time to answer before he kisses you. Unlike the peck you were expecting, his lips are firm against yours as he walks you back through the house with his hands on your hips.

"With roast vegetables?" He checks when he pulls back, his lips only an inch from yours. 

"Mhm." You agree, but you can't tell him what specific vegetables you've cooked before he kisses you again. You're boring together, but you usually have a routine: a welcome home kiss, a drink, maybe some hugs in the kitchen, and dinner. His affection isn't anything new or unwanted, but it's notable.

"And those nice brussel sprouts?" He asks. 

You have to grab his face to move it away from yours so you can actually answer. "Yeah, because the only way you'll at them is with cheese."

Aaron kisses you firmly again, guiding you until your butt hits the table. "You love me." He sing-songs teasingly. 

You chuckle. "Yeah, I love you." 

"Good because I love you too." He replies sweetly. 

Then he's kissing you again with renewed vigor, and you're slightly stunned by his boldness. His hands drift from your waist to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the table with ease. On instinct, your thighs spread to let him stand between them.

"Mmm." You mumble against his lips, pulling back for some air. "What's gotten into you?"

"What? I can't thank my darling wife for a delicious homecooked meal?" He wonders, making it easy for you to identify what's made his eyes darken. "Jack's out, right?"

You brush your nose against his with a soft smile that he mimics. "He is, but how do you know it's going to be delicious?" You joke. 

Aaron chuckles, quickly coming up with a witty reply. "I'll thank you for the effort then." He decides.

You grin. "Alright, get to it." 

He winks, planting another kiss on your lips before sinking down to his knee. 

You're thanking yourself for wearing a dress that gives him quick access when he bunches the skirt further up your thighs. 

He starts with gentle kisses trailing up your inner thighs, designed to be loving and teasing. Your skin heats with his mouth on it.

"Someone had after-dinner plans for tonight." He teases, fingers tracing along your underwear- your lacy white underwear- to accentuate his point.

"The order wasn't important." You say through pressed-together lips to keep from moaning. 

His laugh pushes warm air against your core, making you tense on reflex. "Relax, baby." He instructs. "Let me take care of you."

You lay back, getting ready for what'll no doubt be a mindblowing orgasm. Aaron pushes your panties to the side, fingertip tracing over your most delicate skin. You can feel him smirking at how you quiver, completely at his mercy. Because this technically is your reward, he doesn't excessively tease you, and you barely have a few seconds before his lips are right where you need them. He starts with slow kisses up and down your slit before his tongue finally dives in, making you gasp.

"Fuck, Aaron." You moan as his tongue darts around, tasting every inch of you. "Feels so good."

Your praises make him double his efforts, pressing firmer into you with his tongue. Your walls flutter around him, but it doesn't do anything to dissuade his work as he keeps lapping you up. 

You card your hand through Aaron's hair, tugging him closer to you, and he gets the message. He moves his head from side to side, brushing his nose against your clit and making you squeal with delight. Like the expert at working your body that he is, he focuses on a different part of you, licking a fat strip with his tongue flat against you before reaching your clit. He anticipates your next move as well because his hand has been ghosting over your thigh, knowing you'd tease and try to close them, so when you do, he grips your thigh, spreading you again. 

"Baby." He growls in his low, warning tone. "Keep your thighs spread." 

"Okay." You agree, biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning at his hot breath fanning your clit. 

He notices because, of course, he does. "And I want to hear every one of those beautiful moans." To test that you're going to follow his instruction, his lips latch onto your clit, sucking firmly, and your jaw drops open, and a loud moan falls out.

Satisfied with you, he keeps the same movement going, focusing all his attention on your bundle of nerves, cycling between sucking and blowing and licking, with no order. You're screaming a mix of his name and curse words above him, feeling pleasure stream through your body. There's no doubt a proud smirk on his face, but your eyes are so tightly shut from the bliss that you can't see it.

"Please don't stop." You whimper, subconsciously rolling your hips against his face as you chase your high. 

"Ready to take my fingers?" He asks, his voice all low and deep against you.

"Please." You whimper out, overcome by the pleasure but still wanting more. As his middle finger slightly nudges you, you grip the edge of the table. He momentarily pulls off your clit, forcing you to focus on the feel of his fingers. He's swift with his motion to push it deep into you, resulting in a loud moan falling from your lips. His ring finger joins, stretching you open, and you silently thank the universe that he's part of the ten percent of left-handed people because the coldness of his wedding ring against your warm core is a delightful contrast.

You see stars when he starts to move his fingers, thrusting them in and out of you. "So good." You manage to moan out as you arch your back. 

"Here." He offers out his free hand to you, and you stop gripping the table's edge to hold it. You know he likes to feel how much pleasure he's giving you, so you squeeze it as he works you. 

His lips reattach to your clit, giving you so much bliss from both places, and you scream out as you get closer. 

"A-Aaron, I need to- shit- cum." You say, words no doubt slurred together. 

He knows, and he knows how to get you over the edge. "Mm-hmm." He mumbles against you. The added vibrations are enough to do it, making you moan his name while squirming on the table as you reach your high. He works you through it, lips, fingers, and tongue not letting up until you're gasping at the overstimulation.

Spent, you lay against the table as Aaron readjusts your underwear and dress before standing up. 

"That good, huh?" He asks despite knowing that, yeah, it really was that good. 

"Absolutely." You agree, letting him pull you upright with the hand you're holding his with. He leans in to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his lips. "Thank you." 

"Thank you." He says. "Do you think dinner's burnt by now?" 

You shake your head, hopping off the table. His hands hold your hips, helping support your unstable legs. "The oven was off, so it's just probably cold." You assure him before smirking. "Oh, I meant to ask, since that was just appreciation for me cooking, what do I get if the meal actually is delicious?"

Aaron chuckles. "We'll see, but I have a feeling you've already got some requests." 

[insidekatmind]

An Unexpected Encounter~Noni Madueke

London was lively that evening, the streets glowing with reflections from the holiday decorations and the hurried footsteps of passersby. You found yourself in a downtown café, one of those refined yet cozy places, where the air was filled with the aroma of coffee and cinnamon. You were supposed to meet a friend who, at the last minute, had texted to cancel.

You decided to stay anyway, ordering a cappuccino. There was no rush, and London at night always had its charm.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” a deep voice made you look up. Standing before you was him. Noni Madueke. A shy smile, a long coat, and a cap that tried to make him blend in. But for you, it was impossible. You’d followed his career, from his moves at PSV to his games at Chelsea. He was your favorite player.

“Oh… no, no. It’s free. Please, go ahead,” you stammered, trying to mask your excitement, though it was probably obvious.

He sat down and pulled out his phone, then set it on the table, glancing at you. “Are you here alone?”

“Uh… yeah, my friend canceled on me,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward, though you couldn’t ignore the fact that he was talking to you.

“Happens to me a lot, too. Maybe it’s for the best sometimes. A little time to think,” he paused, then added, “I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Noni.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I know who you are.”

He chuckled softly, looking away briefly. “Of course. Don’t know why I always do that. It’s a habit.”

The conversation began naturally. He told you he was in London for a short break from training, how he loved walking the city streets at night to escape the chaos of being recognized. Then, he asked about you.

You talked about your job, your interests, and how you ended up in London. It was surprising how attentive he was, how genuinely interested he seemed.

After an hour, as the café began to empty, he asked, “Would you like to take a walk?”

You agreed without hesitation. You strolled through the lit-up streets, with him occasionally glancing at you, as if curious about every reaction.

“You know, it’s rare that I get to talk like this with someone who doesn’t just see me as ‘the footballer,’” he said at one point. “You make me feel normal.”

“Well, maybe it’s because I don’t see you only as a footballer. You seem like an interesting person, Noni.” The courage in your words surprised him. You could tell by the way he stopped, his hands in his pockets, looking directly at you.

“You know, I think this has been the best evening I’ve had in months.” He paused, then stepped a little closer. “Can I see you again?”

Your heart started racing. “I think I’d like that.”

From that moment on, London was never the same. Evening walks became a habit, meeting at small cafés and sharing endless conversations under the starry sky a ritual. Discovering the more human side of Noni, his dreams and fears, became a part of your life.

One evening, after an important match you’d watched live at the stadium on his invitation, he approached you as you both left together.

“You know, football is my whole life. But you… you’re the reason it all feels even more special.”

You couldn’t hold back a smile. “And you’re the reason I’ve never felt so alive.”

That night, under the city lights, he took your hand. And it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 32

“Gasp…… Ugh. I’m dying…….”

After leaving the study, I ran like crazy. I ran like I’ve never ran before.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from my room. If I weren’t fast enough, the ‘Summon’ duration would end and I would’ve disappeared in the middle of the hallway, leaving behind nothing but my clothes.

After running at full speed, I went into the bed, covered myself with the blanket, and canceled the ‘Summon’. With that, I was summoned back to where I designated in advance, under the sawdust.

―Squeak. (Whew.)

At this rate, I might end up passing away young…….

I stumbled towards the middle of the hamster house and laid on my back with my arms and legs stretched out. The sky is yellow. So yellow.

“Did you exercise? You look tired.”

Kyle appeared suddenly and picked me up while I was still panting. He began to kiss all over me. With no strength to even lift up a paw, I helplessly received all his affectionate gestures.

―Squeak……. (Are you content now…….)

“I understand, I understand. I also like you a lot.”

―Squeak……. (This clueless bastard…….)

“Today, I will make you a present.”

Kyle, who put me down, put a handful of duck feathers into the handkerchief he laid out for me last night. Then, he carefully began to quilt it.

Although it looked a little awkward and had threads sticking out, it came out better than the dish scrub he made before. Have you been practicing these days?

I peered at his face with my barely open eyes. There was a warm smile that contrasted with the endless winter out the window.

What are you so happy about.

It’s just a demonic beast.

As I felt the handkerchief being carefully placed on my back, I slowly closed my eyes..

―Squeak……. (This diligent, tactless, warm-hearted bastard…….)

One day, this moment would become a memory to think back about after I return back to my world.

It would be a happy memory to remember.

*

―…….

“…….”

“…….”

It was a suffocating silence..

I looked back and forth at Kyle and the magician, who were both watching me put up a guard.

It had been thirty minutes since the magician entered the study. They constantly observed me as if I were a lab rat. Stop staring please. It’s really burdensome.

Gulp.

A swallow was heard throughout the room.

The culprit was the nervous magician next to Kyle.

“T-then, I will start now.”

As if he had finally made up his mind, the magician, who looked to be middle-aged, lifted me up carefully.

The lift was uncomfortable. The palm I was sitting on was shaking hard as if an earthquake occurred.

―Squeak……. (Excuse me, sir…….)

Are you trying to play with me or what?

I sat on the shaking palms and gave him a wary look.

You must be nervous with Kyle glaring at you as if he were going to rip you to pieces, but it’s not like Kyle would actually shred you. He’s just worried. He’s just an ordinary demonic beast lover.

After wiping his sweat with the back of his hand, the magician began to inject blue mana into my body. I closed my eyes and hugged tight onto the cashew nut in my hands.

I didn’t know how my body would react to this and neither did the system, but I had no choice but to take a gamble. Kyle would’ve used all possible methods he could find to make me grow.

Right. It’s better to get this done and over with.

―……?

Bam.

My body was pushed slightly to the side along with the sound of something blunt hitting each other.

I held tighter onto the cashew nut I almost dropped and stretched out my neck to look around like a meerkat. Wh-what was that? Something just flew by?

“……Did you do it?”

“I did, however…….”

There was a crushing silence. The magician swallowed again nervously before placing his hand on my body once more.

“This…… this time I’ll try injecting harder.”

Despite saying that, he was still shaking incredibly.

Your life must also be a rough ride. I pat the magician’s hand with my front paw and took a short, deep breath. Come, I am ready.

“……Hmph!”

The magician made a weird grunting sound before drawing up a palm full of blue mana energy. Then, the moment the powerful mana shot out and made contact with my body…

Ting.

Ting.

Bam.

My body rolled back twice before colliding with the wall. I was buried in Kyle’s knitted yarns.

“Cashew!”

Kyle quickly picked me up. I shook my head and felt some static electricity penetrating my whole body.

‘Just what exactly is happened?’

What happened? Is mana supposed to feel this shocking?

[The in□able power □s d□sp□.]

I blankly stared at the system window that appeared in front of my eyes. The letters were broken into pixels and were difficult to read, but I felt I knew what it was saying.

‘Is it saying that the mana of my body and this world are colliding? Is it the same for the unexpected appearance of the beast during the reconnaissance?’

As I was lost in my thoughts, Kyle checked my entire body for any wounds.

“……Your Highness. This, I don’t think this is your typical demonic beast.”

The magician said in a hushed voice as he formed a puddle below his feet from his sweat.

“If this little one isn’t a demonic beast, what could it possibly be!”

Kyle covered me with his palm as he shouted at the magician who stood far away from him and flinched.

Hey, hey. Don’t be like that. It isn’t his fault.

“H-however, it’s not only not accepting the mana, it’s even reflecting it back…….”

While the magician rambled, I picked up the cashew nut that had flown away. The end was slightly cracked from the impact earlier. It also looked like there was a bit of dust on it.

―…….

I threw the cashew nut in frustration. Forget it. I’m not eating this dirty thing. I should use ‘Summon’ and eat something nicer.

I sat back down and watched two people arguing- no, one person suffering from the rage of the other. It’s not like I could stop the fight with this body of mine. I would have to wait for them to finish on their own.

Thinking like that, I revisited the system window with the pixel letters.

“Your Highness!”

I turned my head at the sudden voice and the study door flinging open.

It was a face I knew. He was one of Kyle’s knights in the scouting party.

“What’s the matter. A guest is here, so quickly state your matter.”

“M-my apologies! However, a letter arrived saying that Prince Belial had been attacked……!”

“……attacked?”

……What? Attacked?

I jumped up.

Kyle chased off the magician and put me back into the hamster house. After closing the house, he approached the knight at the door.

Hey. Talk inside the room! Let me hear it too!

I pressed my ears against the transparent wall. Fortunately, the study door was not completely closed, so I was able to vaguely hear the conversation.

In summary, Belial, who was returning back to the imperial palace, was ambushed by an unknown group. It was a serious incident that caused the carriage to overturn, but because the location was closer to the imperial palace, it took time for the news to reach the Blake estate……

I crossed my arms and paced back and forth in the hamster house.

The early part of <The Winter’s Heart>. The only attack I knew at this point of the novel was the ambush on Kyle that resulted in him getting wounded on his right arm.

But that incident didn’t occur on Kyle due to my interference. So instead, Belial was attacked?

‘……Something’s not right.’

Does that mean the unknown force behind the ambush on Kyle in the original story wasn’t from Belial? I thought deeply while rocking on the swing.

The controlling power within the imperial palace was definitely the second prince, Belial. I’d hate to admit, but he had exceptional leadership skills and a captivating smile, making him popular among the people.

Then was it different within the palace? As far as I knew, some subjects already openly considered Belial to be the future emperor even though the 1st prince was still alive.

‘But, what was his name again?’

Suddenly, a system window appeared.

[Lorenz Serena Meinhardt was weak-minded and cowardly. He couldn’t compete with Kyle in force, nor could he beat Belial in intellect. All he had left was the pride of being the 1st prince.

‘Right. It was Lorenz.’

I disliked him so much I even forgot his name.

I recalled the description of him from the story. With a hair color lighter than Belial’s, he was said to have a sharp appearance that resembled his mother, Serena. His thick eyebrows and clear facial features were said to resemble the emperor.

[눈_눈]

### ‘눈’ means ‘eye’. The emote resembles a frowning face.

Yeah. Like that.

However, the imperial family valued tradition and legitimacy. No matter how much power Belial held, he would not be able to become the emperor.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Prince Lorenz had no support at all, and the emperor probably would want to entrust the country to his eldest son.

That was why I thought Lorenz wouldn’t interfere with Belial’s matters. He could become the emperor even if he stood still, so there was no need to make a mess.

―Squeak. (This is all so confusing.)

While I spun the hamster wheel with my hands habitually, Kyle returned to the study with a slightly depressed look on his face.

It seemed everything has settled down. How kind of you to worry about your enemy like that.

With a short sigh, I used ‘Summon’. He didn’t seem to have the spirit to look after the hamster, so this would be the perfect time to become Shu.

Above all, the small hamster body wouldn’t be able to give Kyle the comfort he needed. For now, I want to be be his side as a human being.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[camillecrellin]

Hi!! I’m not sure if you’re taking requests so if u arnt feel free to ignore this!! <33

Can i request Tao x Fem!Reader (established relationship) on a movie night just then two after the rest of the group couldn’t come?

if you’re comfortable maybe making it poly! with Elle and Tao x reader? but that’s only if you’re comfortable <333

Movie Night — Tao Xu

A/N: I'm incredibly sorry how long this took, I lost the love I had for Heartstopper but I am going to get these requests done. That's also why this is short sorry.

Word Count: 302

Warnings: kissing, not an established relationship sorry

Tao always wanted a movie night just you and him, but he never found the right excuse. Not until one day both, Charlie and Isaac both cancelled.

Tao immediately messaged Elle asking if she could cancel last minute. Elle agreed texting the group chat a few minutes before you agreed to meet up knowing you’d already be at Tao’s.

"I guess it's just us." You laughed, holding up your phone. "Elle's not coming."

"Jesus, that's annoying." Tao sighed, trying to hide his true feelings in his words.

"Eh, it's fine." You shrugged. "We can actually watch what we want to."

"I guess..."

Grabbing Tao's laptop, you laughed. "I know you're not disapointed."

You eyes glanced through the endless content of Netflix, landing on Trainspotting. "Ewan McGregor: yes please."

Tao shook his head at your reaction. "You did not just imply that Ewan McGregor hot?"

"So what if I did?" You challenged, tilting your head towards Tao.

"He has a wife and kids!" Tao shouted.

"And?"

"He's old enough to be your dad." He added.

"Fair point." You shrugged. "But this is 1996 and he is 25 not 52."

"You know if I squint my eyes, you look almost as hot as him." You joked, looking Tao up and down with your eyes squinting.

Tao gulped, looking down to his lap as he tried to comprehend what you just said.

You, seeing Tao play with his hands, blushed in embrassement. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine." Tao looked towards you.

Swalloing the nerves down, you asked. "Can I kiss you?"

Tao nodded, a hand cautiously cupping your face. Before you knew it you both were kissing each other. The sense of longing and dread had finally washed from you both.

Movie Night was bound to get a little bit more interesting thanks to Elle.

[valiantstarlights]

[The Proposal AU]

Inspired by: @voukkake 's art, and what @valeriianz wrote.

I have totally forgotten that I said Betty White's character should be played by Destiny. 😂 And while I changed my mind about the blanket just now, I'm still pushing for him to do the forest ritual scene. 💃 Anyway, here's my contribution to the dreamling The Proposal AU. 🖤

"Hey, are you both decent?" Johanna, Hob's younger sister, calls out as she raps a quick knock on the door of Hob's bedroom.

Hob, currently lounging on the bed and reading a novel, rolls his eyes and says, "Dream has never been decent once in his entire life, but I suppose we're both fully clothed at the moment."

Dream, who is getting some editing work done at Hob's desk, glares at him from the corner of his eye.

Hob beams at him as the door opens and Jo enters with one hand covering her eyes, while the other held out a wrapped package for either of them to take. "Just delivering this," she says. "Gran said it came in the mail this morning."

"It's already open," Hob notes, putting his book down as he moves to take it from her. "Who is it from?"

"Oh, uh, the entire Endless family? There are a lot of signatures on the letter."

Dream notices an envelope peeking out of the package, and it, too, has been opened. He stands quickly and slaps Hob's hand away before grabbing the letter himself.

"Well, okay, that's all," Jo says mysteriously as she turns back towards the door, trying to navigate her way out of Hob's room with one hand still placed firmly over her eyes. "I'm gonna go and find my noise-cancelling headphones and some duct tape. Just give me like a ten minute headstart, okay? Please? For my sanity?"

"I have literally no idea what's going on," Hob says to the room at large: to Dream, who is reading the letter accompanying the package with a furious look on his face, and to Jo, who is using her other arm like a blind man's cane as she exits the room.

"You'll know soon, Hobsie!" Jo calls out as she crosses the threshold, and immediately slams the door shut. Hob then hears her tearing down the corridor to her room like the hounds of hell are chasing her. "Remember: ten minutes!" she yells out. "Not one second earlier!"

Helpless, Hob turns to his boss. Fake fiancee. Whatever. "Wanna clue me in on why my sister is acting weirder than usual?"

In response, Dream holds up a hand, nonverbally telling him to wait until he finishes reading the letter. A few seconds later, he scoffs in disgust and throws the letter towards Hob, who scrambles to catch it.

"The last paragraph," Dream spits, tone utterly disgusted, then stalks back towards the desk. When he starts typing again, it sounded like he was manifesting for his fingers to turn into hammers so he could destroy the keyboard. "And once you're done reading, burn both the letter and that..infernal package, will you?"

Hob, mystified at what the fuck is actually going on, turns the paper over to read the last paragraph.

'We are sending this letter with The Babymaker, which, if you have already forgotten--like you have forgotten all about our entire family's existence for the past few years--is the Endless family blanket that has been passed down through the generations, in the hopes that you and your fiancee will be blessed with many children.'

Hob chokes on his spit as he reaches the end of the paragraph. "What the fuck?"

"Precisely," Dream says bitterly. "No doubt my parents and a couple of my siblings find this entire situation amusing."

"Okay, first of all," Hob says, very gingerly setting both the package and the letter with the envelope at the farthest corner of the room from the two of them, being very careful not to touch the blanket's fabric, "Who the fuck names their blanket The Babymaker? And second of all, of all the heirlooms to pass down to your children, it has to be the blanket that each and every ancestor used when they fucked? Really?"

"Now you understand why I do not interact with most of my family members," Dream says. "This is not the first time they have gone to great lengths to humiliate me, although sending the blanket to potentially humiliate me in the eyes of my soon-to-be in-laws stink of desperation."

The more Hob learns about Dream's biological family, the more he wants to punch them in the face. No wonder Dream acts like he's under attack all the time. Heck, if Hob grew up in a home where he was treated like shit, he wouldn't emerge prickly and wary. He'd be a full-blown bastard who punches first and talks it out never.

"We could send them a letter back," Hob offers, a little cheekily to infuse some humor in the situation. Dream is clenching his jaw so hard, and a small, miniscule, microscopic part of Hob wants to run his thumb gently over where the muscles are bunched up. Dream was having a pretty okay day before all this. Like, sure, he was muttering that the writer whose work he's currently editing is an idiot, but that's his usual thing. And Hob likes listening to him rant and read ridiculous passages from the manuscript.

(He'd never admit that, of course, but...he's come to like it. He sometimes even looks forward to it.)

"And what shall we say, hm?" Dream challenges, hostility stiffening his shoulders. "That we are grateful for their gift and we are keen to invite them to our wedding? Because this entire thing might be a sham, but I would rather eat hot coals than have either of my parents walk me down the aisle, or my twin siblings be part of the wedding party."

Hob gives in to the temptation and walks towards his desk. He ignores the way Dream sits up even straighter, like he's ready to get into a physical fight, and gently runs his thumb over Dream's jaw.

Immediately, as soon as Hob's thumb makes contact with Dream's jaw, Dream's eyelashes flutter, and his brows furrow. He looks utterly confused. Was he expecting Hob to hurt him? Hob grits his own teeth at that, but takes care not to let the sudden flare of anger show on his face.

When Dream looks up to meet Hob's gaze, Hob could still see the guarded way he holds himself, but there's also yearning in the line of his neck. Hob rubs his jaw again, and does not remove his hand from where it cups Dream's face. He could feel Dream lean infinitesimally closer, and he wordlessly lets him, continuing to run his thumb back and forth in a comforting gesture.

"Disclaimer," Hob says softly, at the sudden hush of the room. "What I'm gonna say next is a joke at your family's expense, so please don't commit violence against my person."

Dream's eyes actually sparkle at that, and the corner of his lips lifts the tiniest amount. "Go on, then," he says. "I welcome jokes at my family's expense. I will even give you bonus points if you make fun of my parents and my twin siblings."

Well. Alright then.

"I was thinking," Hob says slowly, "maybe we should write back and say we didn't need the blanket at all, since I totally got you pregnant weeks ago when we fucked at your place, just after you gave the most romantic proposal ever. The doctor said we're having twins, and since I'm a total simp for you, I will allow you to commit all sorts of crimes, including not letting our children meet your parents and your twin siblings, and burning the Endless family's precious blanket heirloom at the very first opportunity."

"You would dare invite the wrath of the entire Endless family, both the living and the dead, just to please my arsonist tendencies?" Dream asks, but his eyes are crinkled in laughter, and he's actually smiling.

"Yeah," Hob says, suddenly feeling a strange, tender sensation in his chest. Dream absolutely looks breathtaking when he smiles. "Absolutely."

"Then come," Dream says, and stands. Hob watches him pick up the package holding The Babymaker, as well as the envelope and letter that Hob had set aside. "We still have an hour before dinner, and I would rather not sleep in the same room as this wretched thing."

Fuck, Hob thinks inanely, mind still replaying how Dream's smile widened as Hob talked shit about his family. They were really gonna burn The Endless family's highly inappropriate and very disgusting heirloom.

"Hob," Dream says, now on the threshold of Hob's room. One eyebrow was raised in a manner that should definitely not make Hob's nether regions interested. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Hob says quickly, and rushes to Dream's side. He feels like he's gonna trip at any moment. "It could prove cathartic for you," he says, a little stupidly. He has to say something so he doesn't think about Dream's smile and his imperiously raised eyebrow. "And symbolic. Like watching bad memories burn and be reduced to nothing."

Dream hums and takes Hob's arm as they walk down the stairs to go outside. It's a bit chilly out, but not too much. Apparently, it's more important to Dream that they burn the damn thing than pause for a second to don a jacket. "Reword that, and I'll allow you to use it in your novel."

"Great," Hob squeaks out at Dream's fond tone. "Definitely will remember that one."

He has already forgotten what he just said, his entire being focused on Dream's warm hand on his arm, and the scent of his own shampoo.

"I will remember for you," Dream assures him. "Eidetic memory, remember?"

Hob was about to say that that is something he will definitely not be forgetting any time soon, except it was at that moment that they hear Jo holler all the way from her room, "Finally found my noise-cancelling headphones! The two of you can fuck now!"

Their eyes meet, and there is a moment of silence, before Dream lets out the most frightening laugh Hob has ever heard, except all he feels is giddy and fond and slightly off balance, like something huge just happened, and his entire world has been changed irrevocably.