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queensunshinee · 6 days

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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

#challengers fic #art donaldson #challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #his favorite toy

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starsinthesky5 · 4 months

Text

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

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joeburrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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beccarodeupontheafternoontrain · 4 months

Text

Guest in the Relationship

Damian Wayne x reader

Word count: 3024

Summary: Damian keeps forgetting about your dates and this night is the final straw

Warnings: mugging, some violence, slight angst and unedited

Part 2

First work I’ve written in a long time so constructive criticism is welcomed, but please be kind and I hope you enjoy :)

I looked at the clock on my bedside table. 7:34. It had been over an hour since Damian was supposed to pick me up for our date. I'd been discussing how much I wanted to see this film for months at this point - ever since the first promo trailer dropped. The tickets I had bought for opening night went unused in my desk drawer from another date Damian had forgotten or been late to.

The number of dates planned but gone uncompleted seemed insurmountable now, endless even. In the year and a half I'd been dating Damian I had gotten used to the constant family emergencies, other plans he had or straight up just him forgetting you had plans in the first place. Damian always apologised profusely afterwards and I had always forgiven him. It was a non-problem. Yes it hurt and was annoying, but it wasn't till recently his inability to prioritise you had become a problem. Jon had gotten himself a boyfriend, a boyfriend who showed up to every date early bearing gifts for Jon. I was beyond happy my best friend had finally found himself someone, but a green lens always covered my vision when he told me about how perfect his relationship was. Especially when he mentioned how him and his boyfriend had gone to see the film I seemed to have mentioned in nearly every sentence I'd spoken as of recent. To top the cake this conversation occurred at a friend lunch date which Damian cancelled going to last minute because of a 'family emergency'. I refused to think about what or rather who a family emergency was. I glanced at the clock again, 7:43. If I didn't leave soon I'd miss the film, again, I wasn't going to waste anymore cinema tickets. With a sigh I braced myself and my heart for once again doing something alone that I was supposed to, should be doing with Damian.

The film had barely reached the halfway point when I finally decided to leave the screen. The vice grip holding my heart captive was too much to handle, the pain was making me physically sick. The film was just as good as Jon had said, I just wished Damian was there to see it with me or had at least replied to one of my texts asking where he was. My heart hurt so much from the disappointment of not only missing Damian, but also from not being able to enjoy the film i'd been waiting for, for so long. Did I really mean so little to Damian? Surely he would have broken up with me by now if he had no interest in me. But then why did we barely see each other anymore, I couldn't even recall the last time we saw each other outside of school. Maybe he just didn't know how to break up with me. My heart burned just at the thought he didn't want me anymore. Tears started rushing down my face, harder than before. I couldn't walk back into the screen like this, I just needed to go back to my house. Despite the 45 minutes in the dark it would take, I decided to walk home, I couldn't bear the idea of anyone on the bus giving me funny looks for crying. I should have really performed a risk assessment before walking around Gotham at night, but I was too focused on trying to calm my heavy breathing and halt my tears.

My steps sped up when my front door became visible, I really just wanted to sleep. I was too distracted to notice the balaclava clad man who had been following me for two blocks already. He grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth to prevent me from screaming for help and pulled me into the closest alleyway. I knew a bruise was going to form from where he shoved me against the wall. My tear's amplified significantly, this was quite frankly the worst time I could be mugged. A knife found its way against my neck "empty your pockets." his words were slow and clear - no fear of being caught by one of the many vigilantes who called Gotham their home. "I don't have anything." Any attempts I was making to appear strong to the man in front of me failed miserably due to the cracking of my voice. My never ending crying from past hour and a bit had done me no favours. The mugger placed the knife more firmly against my neck "I won't repeat myself again" his lips were so close to grazing my ear "empty your pockets." I couldn't see any clear escape from this situation, I needed to try and diffuse it. "Please, I really don't have anything!" My voice was considerably louder and more firm this time. I could feel the edge of the knife slowly cutting into the skin of my neck. Where was the obnoxious bird inspired superhero when you needed him. He always seemed to be lurking around your neighbourhood, so why now was he failing to grace you with his presence. The mugger pushed me further against the wall, hard, so hard I could feel the brickwork through my raincoat. He pushed one hand into my pockets while the other kept the knife placed at my throat. The man got increasingly angered as spare change, my film ticket and a piece of gum fell to the floor. When he finally took my phone out of my pocket, I could tell there was a low chance of me escaping this encounter unscathed. My 5 year old iPhone would barely get him enough money to buy a meal at Bamonte's. The man's body language caused my heart even faster I feared it might actually leave my body. I had never seen someone so angry. He grabbed my face with both hands, the roughness of his hands could leave cuts on my skin themselves. His grip became impossibly tighter on my face in order for him to smash my face into the brick behind. A loud pained yelp escaped my lips. Pleads begging someone would help invade my mind - bird themed hero or neighbour, anyone. The man stepped back, twirling his knife in his hand, staring at me like he was contemplating what to do next. I screamed. It was the only option I had left, there were no other means to escape this situation. There was no way I could overpower this man, especially when he was wielding a knife he'd already cut me with. All I could do was scream for help and pray someone would hear me.

Luckily for me and unfortunately for the man in front of me, a caped shadow appeared from behind the man. Relief possessed my body as I watched the mugger be knocked out. Where moments prior rough hands gripped my face, now gloved hands cradle my cheeks. Jade green eyes analysing my face in a silent question. A question I was not yet ready to answer. Instead I wrapped my arms around Robin's shoulders burying my head in the crook of his neck, the phrase thank you becoming my mantra. Me and Robin had only stumbled across each other a handful of times previously, usually on a late night walk of mine where he started off by lecturing me of the dangers of walking around alone at night and ended with us stargazing on my fire escape discussing our secrets.

I am unsure what happened over the next few minutes, shock and tears overtook my body. All I am sure of is that Robin held me throughout it all. He let me stay holding him, kissing my temple and stroking my hair, reassuring me everything was okay now. When I finally felt like I could breathe again, I removed my head from where it rested against Robin's shoulder so I could look at him "I'm sorry." I said, my voice reverting back to its hoarse quiet mess as a result of my crying. He shook his head at me, removing the remnants of my tears with his fingers. "There's no need to be sorry." I hesitantly smile at him "I guess I should have listened more to your lectures." My attempt at brightening the mood fails when Robin doesn't reciprocate my smile. "I need you to promise me that you'll never walk alone at night again." His greens pleaded with me to listen to him as he continued even more seriously. "If I hadn't gotten there when I had" Robin cuts himself off, looking away from me and swallowed harshly. "I need you to promise me so I know you're safe. I might not always be there to protect you." When he finally looked back at me the desperation in his eyes was clear as day. I presented him with my pinky "I promise." His bodily visibly relaxed in front of me as he joined our pinkies together.

"Do you know what time it is?" I asked Robin. "Nearly half 10. Why?" He seemed genuinely baffled as why that would be the first proper thing I thought about after the type of attack I just endured. "Do you know where my phone is?" I chose to ignore his confusion. Robin looked at the floor, searching for where the mugger had dropped my phone. Fortunately, bar a few scratches to the screen, my phone had survived the attack. I had two notifications, one from my mum which arrived before the attack asking for my ETA and another from Jon asking if me and Damian enjoyed the film. No messages from Damian. None. It had been over 4 hours since we were supposed to meet. I could feel the tears start to well back up in my eyes. This wasn't the first time he hadn't responded to my messages, but it had never happened at a time where I really needed him. I needed to go home and I didn't mean the building across the road. I needed to be in Damien's arms.

I looked towards Robin who was collecting my belongings from where the man had dropped them on the pavement. I wanted to escape this situation now. Taking a breath in an attempt to contain my tears, I watched as Robin paused when he picked up my film ticket from the ground an almost incoherent curse coming from his mouth. "I really need to get home now." My teeth clenched, I was so close to crying again. I refuse to cry in front of Robin again tonight. "Thank you so much for everything." Robin opened his mouth as if to respond but I turned around before he could speak a word, practically sprinting to my front door. I just needed to hide in my bed from the world for a while. Too much had happened in such a short space of time. I needed to debate what to do about the whole Damian situation and process the attack I just experienced.

Two hours later and my phone had not stopped buzzing. Damian had been calling and messaging me non-stop to apologise and ask if I'm okay. While all I wanted was for him to hold me and make me feel safe again, how could that happen when I felt like a guest in our relationship. I know I needed to message him to reassure him I was okay and that I just needed time, I couldn't bring myself to do it. Taylor Swift was blasting through my headphones so it was no surprise I didn't hear the knock at my window, or the second, or the third or when the red caped vigilante entered my room. I only noticed him when the duvet protecting me from the rest of the world was removed around my head.

"Hey." Robin seemed nervous. He was never nervous. I sat up in my bed curious as to not only why he was here but also to why he looked so nervous. "Hi." My voice sounded stronger than it had the last time we spoke. He pushed a small rectangular piece of paper into my hands, it was the film ticket I'd left with him before. I looked up at him, tilting my head in confusion. "I just came to return this." His speech was hurried. "And to make sure you're okay of course." I'd thought nothing could ruffle the feathers of this bird, but seemingly I was wrong and I needed to get to the bottom of why he was acting so weirdly. I decided to answer him truthfully. "Apart from the cut to my neck and the probably never ending trauma, I'd say I'm doing okay considering." Robin's eyes flew to my neck, he hadn't noticed the cut till now. "It's really nothing, I'm okay, I swear." I patted the bed next to me as an offer for him to sit, but also in an effort to eradicate the new found fury on Robin's face. Turning to Robin I say "now why don't you tell me what's wrong with you." Robin's anger quickly turns back into apprehension, but his eyes never leave the small cut on my neck. "I don't know what you mean." He replies, words slightly slower than before. I roll my eyes at him, I repeat myself . He's short with his response "nothing." There was no way I was letting this boy leave my room without a proper explanation. "So you go to every damsels room after you rescue them then?" Robins quick response of no was partnered with a shake of the head so familiar to me. Odd. "Then why come visit me after?" Robin was stumped by this question, constantly opening his mouth to answer before closing it again. He finally settled on an answer. "You seemed upset about something else other than the incident earlier" he looked me in the eyes before continuing, god they looked so similar to my favourite pair. Obviously missing Damian was making me look for him in places he had no right being. "As somewhat friends I wanted to see what I could do to help." I'd blanked out half of what Robin had said with my thoughts of Damian. If I was going to get to the bottom of why Robin was acting so weirdly I needed to tell him the truth first. "In all honesty" I started, hands playing with the Wolf teddy given to me by Damian "I'm having some relationship trouble and I don't know what to do about it." Robin's back got impossibly straighter "Problems?" He said through gritted teeth, like he was in pain. "What kind of problems?" I gripped the Wolf harder "I don't think my boyfriend loves me anymore." Tears started to fall down my cheeks as Robin sucked in a breath next to me. He looked just as shell shocked as I felt admitting the fact out loud. Robin placed his arm over my shoulders and drew comforting circles on my arm. "What makes you think that?" Robin seemed to really struggle to ask the question, I found it even harder to answer. "I'm not a priority to him anymore, if I ever was. He's constantly creating excuses not to see or talk to me. Damian is keeping so many secrets from me and there's never ending lies." Tears were falling freely from my eyes now, I didn't care if Robin saw them anymore. Robin was shaking his head, but I finished my ramble about mine and Damian's relationship before he could get a word in "I think there may be another girl." Robin looked stricken, panicked, immediately voicing his disagreement with my conclusion. "I can assure you that is not the case at all" his hands are on my face, trying to get me to look at him but I keep my gaze averted. "How would you know?" Venom tainted my voice. I didn't want to be mean but how on Earth would Robin of all people know of Damian's feelings. Robin called my name, desperation plaguing his words. When I still didn't look at him, too angry to dare, he called me by my nickname "Habibti."

My head whipped round to face Robin's. "What did you just call me?" Instead of answering me, he covered my hands with his and directed them towards his domino mask. "What are you doing?" I ask hesitantly "It's okay, Habibti." I slowly peel away the mask to reveal my boyfriend's face. "I can assure you that I do love you Beloved, more than anything." Damian moves my hands to cover his heart "I'm so sorry my actions have made it seem otherwise. You mean the world to me, Habibti." I moved away from him, sitting on the opposite side of the bed to him. "You lied to me." I said. This was obviously not the reaction Damian was hoping for because the calm that had passed over his face once I removed the mask had quickly turned back into panic. He said my name softly and tried to get closer to me. I clambered off the bed in an attempt to get away from him. "I think I need some time." Damian looked as if I'd just burnt down his whole word and moved towards me again. I retreated back a step, halting his movements and causing more anguish to paint his face. "No." I said "Damian, I need some time to think. Please give me that time." He simply nodded his head, fixed his mask back into position and left through my open window.

I chose to keep Damian's Gotham Academy Orchestra hoodie on as I slipped back into bed, cocooning myself in my duvet and replaying the scene that just occurred over and over again in my head. What was I going to do. What was I supposed to do. I grabbed my wolf teddy and clutched it tighter to my chest. I had no idea what the next move I was going to make was, but I knew I had to decide soon.

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #robin damian #dc robin #robin #damian x reader #angst #vigilante #dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne x reader

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thewriterg · 1 year

Text

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

#miles molares #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #spider man across the spider verse #miles morales x reader #atsv fic #witch!reader #poc!reader #black!reader #fem!reader #black!fem!reader #romance #fluff #angst #i love you #thewriterg #2023

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inaflashimagine · 1 year

Text

lo mejor (i)

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader (can be read as reader being latine)

summary: nueva york had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

but he continued to find himself going to your restaurant, a few of the other spider-people less than convinced that it's just for your food.

a/n: as a latina who also eats empanadas to cure their hanger, i just needed to get this off my chest. will be a multi-part fic!

3k wc. no warnings for this chapter, other than a litany of english + spanish curses

masterlist | one | two

–

“I’m in hiding. He’s angry at me…again…”

As much as the kid was growing on Jess, she sent an unimpressed look at the flickering hologram. “In other news, water is wet.”

“But seriously, how can he expect me to write a report only 5 minutes after I finish a mission? He’s worse than my AP Lit teacher, and Ms. O’Connor was—”

“Gwen, I’m gonna stop you right there. Because we’ve been through this before. You know how to fix this.”

Though her face was covered by her mask, the widening of her goggles before her shoulders sagged in defeat showed Jess that Gwen knew exactly what to do.

“But can’t you come with me? What if I mess up the order?”

“Are you kidding me right now? Didn’t you want me to ‘chill with the hovering’?”

Gwen sighed, already starting to swing her way through Nueva York to get to her destination. “I know, I know, I’ll go. Do you want anything?”

“No need, it sounds like you might have to buy the whole store to be in his good graces again. Good luck.”

Her mentor logged off before hearing her star pupil groan in frustration—what was supposed to be an effortless day was quickly becoming a pain in her ass.

Like countless times before, Gwen quickly changed into her set of ‘futuristic’ civilian clothes to blend in with the rest of the long line at the tiny, but packed, restaurant. If it weren’t for the enticing smell of freshly baked dough, Gwen wondered if this would all be worth it. She’d have to cancel the jam session with Hobie if this plan didn’t work, lest she face the wrath of the villain of the week, Miguel O’Hara.

But when she finally saw a familiar smile and a warm pair of eyes greeting her behind the counter, she realized that Jess was right—she knew how to fix this.

Or rather, you did.

“Mi gringa favorita! It’s been a while. How many empanadas does el jefe need?”

–

Miguel was having a bad day.

It started with the usual suspect: Peter B., un pendejo who believed that Miguel and Jess actually wanted to hear about his daughter’s bowel movements.

Not to mention the impromptu comedy club Miguel had to break down so everyone could get back to doing the jobs they forgot they signed up for. (Nothing was more irritating than being surrounded by unfunny people who genuinely thought their endless quips and corny jokes landed. Every. Single. Time.)

Then for the umpteenth time, he had to tell Gwen to turn in her reports on time. Yet that was nothing compared to her latest efforts in convincing Miguel to let Miles visit HQ and gently explain (gently because, “He doesn’t know any better!”) that he’s the biggest threat to the multi-verse. These poor attempts, unsurprisingly, fell flat. O’Hara warned Jess that the girl would be a liability, and each day he grew closer to sending the kid back to Earth-65 if she decided to pull any tricks.

But the worst part of this dreadful day was when a nervous, slightly cowering Chef Spidey told his boss there were no more empanadas.

“What?” Miguel’s brows furrowed in confusion, indifferent to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped the cafeteria at the sound of his incredulity. “What do you mean, there’s no more empanadas? Who ate the last one?”

“He promised me not to tell you!”

And with that, Miguel stalked to his office where he was currently sulking in, seriously considering changing Peter B.’s portal watch to a day pass as punishment for apparently eating over a half dozen empanadas.

Just as he was about to give Lyla the command, his associate in the heart sunglasses suddenly appeared. “Gwen Stacy will be here in a minute, might want to start lowering your platform.”

“Maldita sea, didn’t I tell you to not let anyone in?” He pinched the bridge of his nose—he’d much prefer for his ears to be rattled with Peter B.‘s ramblings and even Ben Reilly’s moping over Gwen’s incessant whining about how crappy the current Spider Society establishment was. (She was spending way too much time with Hobie.)

“Hey pal, that’s not a nice word, and she comes bearing gifts that you’ll like.”

“Oh really?” he remarked dryly, arms crossed as he began his descent. “She finished the ten detailed reports she owes me?”

Yet Miguel caught the heavenly smell of beef empanadas before seeing Gwen’s sheepish face. And did he also catch a whiff of chorizo and cheese?

“Hi, Miguel. Heard you haven’t had lunch yet, sooooo…” Shaking off her nerves and avoiding that terrifying gaze, she held out the two large boxes as her apology. “And I’ll submit those reports by tonight, I promise.”

An eyebrow raised, he webbed the boxes toward himself and held them even more tightly when he saw where they came from.

His eyes glossed over the mascot of Mama’s Empanadas, a smiling and waving empanada that almost seemed to assure him that his hanger would quickly be cured. But it was the words hurriedly scribbled at the bottom that displaced the rage he’s felt all day with a weird pang in his chest:

“Buen provecho, Jefe :)”

Miguel quickly turned away, hoping he seemed more composed than he actually felt. As the floor to his office slowly began to ascend, he said, “I’ll give you one more day to finish those reports. But don’t think it’s because this bribe worked.”

“Of course.” Gwen hoped the amusement wasn’t clear in her voice, smirking at the shoulders of the tall man lose their tension as he began eating the ‘bribe’. Would Hobie even believe her if she told him what just happened?

“Thanks, Miguel. See you tomorrow!”

He didn’t even register her last words, eyes closed as he savored the explosive taste of smoked chorizo and finally allowed fond memories to flood his brain.

—

Nueva York had no shortage of places that sold empanadas. Unfortunately, that didn’t equate to all of them being good.

It’s not that he didn’t know how to make them–he’s sure that he could follow his abuela’s recipes that his ma once gave him–but he just didn’t have time. After all, nothing was more convenient than cashing in the perks of the suit to cut a long line and grab free food. But once Lyla finished the goober she was working on (“It’s not a goober, Miguel, it’s a gizmo!”), he’d have even less time to do anything other than jump into different dimensions, some of which would certainly not sell empanadas.

This explained why after changing into sweats following a grueling shift, he found himself staring across the busy street at Mama’s Empanadas, the hunger in his growling stomach overwhelming. The small restaurant was engulfed by flashing neon lights and signs boasting the quality of their food in both Spanish and English. The place was always swarming with people whenever he swung by, but as closing time approached only a few stragglers remained.

And so did you.

Miguel hoped that you were the owner of the shop rather than an overworked employee, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time someone else took your position behind the counter. But even from this distance, he could see your cheery smile while you welcomed new patrons and the regulars, almost as if you were genuinely happy to be serving them on a late Friday night.

With all the running around he’s been doing lately, he couldn’t even remember the last time taking on the Spider-Man mantle gave him the same joy he spotted on your face miles away.

O’Hara felt his phone vibrate as he saw the latest message from Lyla illuminating his screen.

“Got some news to share! Might want to deliver the bad stuff in person though.”

“Que chingada,” Miguel cursed, rubbing tired eyes as he contemplated whether to reply. How could the news get even worse after Earth-1610 lost Peter Parker, their only Spider-Man?

Raising his head, he watched you approach the storefront to activate the electrified gates that would close the shop.

And for reasons his brain would never be able to explain, he felt himself panic, almost as if his body jolted awake as he deftly weaved through honking cars and found himself in front of you, the only barrier being a pesky glass door that would take a millisecond for him to break.

Yet he was surprised to see you hold your ground, and even more shocked to see you flash him an annoyed look he’s never seen you give to any other customer. Shoulders tense, he was ready for you to begin berating him for being a nuisance and to leave the fuck off the premises.

“Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan!”

Miguel blinked, not sure he heard you correctly. Sure, calling him an idiot is warranted, but he was not almost run over by those cars. Even if he did get hit–which, again, he wouldn’t–then the car would be hurt, not him.

Instead of explaining himself without implicating his alter persona, or at the very least say something remotely coherent in English or Spanish, Miguel found himself even more gobsmacked when you opened the door and ushered him inside, frantically asking him questions in a random jumble of Spanglish as you tried inspecting a man seemingly twice your size for any injuries.

“¿No hablas español? Should I call 911, mierda, is this guy catatonic? Should I have moved him? Are you hurt?”

Feeling your hands shake his shoulders finally snapped him out of whatever funk he was in, confusion washing over him as he tried to piece together what just happened in the past minute. Heeding your obvious concern, he sighed and did his best to ignore the absolutely embarrassing predicament he put himself in.

“Estoy bien,” he assured you, his relief matching yours as you let go and immediately exhaled. “I really am fine, I just wanted to try the empanadas before closing.”

There was that exasperation again, your deadly expression sufficient in asking him ‘Are you serious?’ that your high-pitched words of “En serio?” were quite unnecessary, in his opinion.

“Was running across a congested street not serious enough?”

You scoffed before glaring at him for a few more seconds, though he could see the uncertain shift in your eyes. “This isn’t some twisted joke to rob me, right? Last thing I need is having Spider-Man beating you up and breaking my new glass counter.”

Miguel couldn’t hide the wry twist of his lips, fully aware that he could be thrown out at any minute but still curious to hear your opinion. “Not a Spider-Man fan?”

“As long as he doesn’t destroy my property, I wouldn’t even mind defending the dude on J. Jonah Jameson’s stupid podcast.“ You shrugged casually, already beginning to make your way behind the counter after deeming Miguel to be harmless, despite looking like he could crush you with his pinky.

He didn’t know how to respond, still perplexed about why you hadn't kicked him out yet.

He soon brushed those thoughts to the side when his mouth watered upon seeing you point at the remaining golden-brown pastries. “Well, these will be on the house, since you almost died in front of my restaurant. We only have 3 chicken left, 2 guava and cheese, and 1 chorizo with potato.”

Miguel felt his phone vibrate again–no doubt it was Lyla.

And for the first time in a long time, he turned off his phone, not even bothering to view the message as he chose to look at you instead.

“I’ll take them all.”

–

When you first decided to take over your family’s restaurant, your tía taught you how to handle rude customers while also giving you advice on how to treat the nice ones so they always returned.

However, there was nothing in her playbook on how to treat the weird customers.

And Miguel O’Hara was the weirdest by far.

You took a light sip of your café con leche as you stole a glance at him starting his second empanada, the sight of such a quiet, large man sitting in a tiny seat and restraining his urge to inhale the food in one go quite comical. Much like how he ate the first one, he attempted to seem unaffected by the taste of the meaty filling.

But after doing this for so many years, no one could ever hide their reaction from you. Especially the pure happiness one got from eating a toasty, savory empanada.

And seeing the dark red-brown eyes of the intimidating man briefly widening and softening in amazement only made you want to find more ways to recapture that fleeting moment. To lengthen it and bask in its warmth, even if that meant countless hours of mincing, seasoning, kneading, and baking.

“¿Entonces? The only thing you’ve said these past five minutes is your name. ¿Que dice el juez?” you teased, leaning back and smugly folding your arms as you already knew what his verdict would be.

It was a choice you instantly regretted, almost falling out of your chair as he stopped looking at his half-finished empanada and focused all of his attention on you, a gaze so intense you briefly pondered if you left the oven on with the sudden swell of heat suffocating you.

He pursed his lips and rolled those impossibly broad shoulders, yet another action that made the room feel uncomfortably stuffy for no good reason. “It’s one of the best empanadas I’ve ever had in my life.”

Now it was your turn to be surprised, expecting to hear a ‘good’ or maybe even a ‘great’, but not the highest of praises.

A pregnant pause ensued before a hearty laugh escaped you.

It was impossible to suspend your disbelief–all of this coming from one of the hottest guys you’ve ever seen enter this shop? Only when pigs fly, or as your abuela preferred to say, “Solo cuando los cerdos vuelan.”

“¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto.”

He had to know that his half-glare really was just him smoldering. There was no way this man was oblivious to the effects of that gaze.

“I don’t think I’m a liar or particularly funny. Though I actually would appreciate a Coca, si la tienes.”

You desperately hoped that your immediate sigh sounded one stemming from annoyance rather than relief–having an excuse to get up and look for a can of soda rather than the brooding dude a mere foot away from you was the only way you’d stay sane through this strange night.

“I do appreciate the kind words,” you said after recollecting your composure, the cool air blasting from the fridge reminding you to retain at least some semblance of professionalism, “but these aren’t even the freshest batch. No way they’re the best you’ve had.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow as you handed him the can. “I didn’t say the best. And you don’t have any with a glass bottle?”

You rolled your eyes before plopping back into your seat. “If I did, I would’ve hit you in the head with it quite a while ago. And especially now, after your challenge.”

“It’s not meant to be taken as a challenge–”

“Ah, but I’ll take it as one because my family’s reputation is riding on this. Or else mi abuela, que en paz descanse”–you pointed to the framed picture of the sweet, old lady right above the cash register–“lanzará sus chanclas poderosas, and I don’t want to get hit by those, they’re stronger than that car that was about to run you over.”

The roll of his eyes was obnoxiously overt, but you barely caught a glimpse of the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, masterfully hidden by taking a sip of his coke.

“How would this so-called challenge even work?”

“You’re asking the wrong question because that’s an easy answer. The next time you come, I’ll bake you a fresh batch of your favorite empanadas, no matter what kind and even if you come 5 minutes before closing.” Listing the types with each finger, it’s hard to contain your excitement. “Baked, fried, sweet, savory, you name it.”

“¿Y si no me gustan?”

“¡No seas tonto! Yet another dumb question, because you’ll not only like them, you’ll fucking love them. The right question is whether you’d think they’re the best.”

You swore he inched closer, the once faint smell of sandalwood from his cologne now overpowering your already-fried senses. “And what if they’re not the best?”

“I’ll get two more attempts afterward. If they still don’t meet your palate’s expectations, which honestly isn’t a worry of mine, then you’ll get free empanadas for the year.” It’s said without hesitation, with confidence you have no idea how you mustered all of a sudden.

Out of all moments to be driven by pride, you choose to do so while tightrope walking on a straight razor.

And you wondered if Miguel read your mind because, for the first time, you heard his laugh. It’s a sardonic one, but its deep timbre was as attractive as his face and meshed well with his incredibly dry sense of humor.

Maybe the walk wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined.

“You’re either extremely arrogant in thinking you’ll win, or too trustful in people to believe they wouldn’t scam you with this deal.”

“But you’re not just some normal person,” you reply simply, amused to see his shoulders slightly stiffened, “and I believe you when you said you’re not a liar. Call it a gut feeling.”

“What do you even get out of this?” he asked, puzzled at how you just weren’t setting yourself up for failure. He didn’t need Lyla for him to visualize the thousands of ways you could lose.

Your wolfish grin showed a lot more than your words. “Nothing, other than making my family proud. Anddd perhaps receiving a five-star review on Yelp wouldn’t hurt either.”

Running a hand through his hair, he shrugged before lifting his soda can toward you. “That’s the least I could do. But don’t think I’ll make this easy for you.”

You gently clinked his can with your cup of coffee as your eyes locked with his, wondering what the hell you just got yourself into.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

–

translations (please lmk if you need more):

Mi gringa favorita - my favorite white girl

El jefe - the boss

Un pendejo - a dumbass

Maldita sea - goddamn it

Buen provecho, Jefe - Enjoy your meal, boss

Que chingada - what bullshit/wtf

Eres un idiota? ¡Casi te atropellan! - Are you an idiot? They almost ran you over!

No hablas espanol? - You don't speak Spanish

Estoy bien - I'm fine

Que dice el juez - What does the judge say?

¡Mentiroso! Lo dices como si fuera la última Coca-Cola en el desierto - Liar! You say it as if it was the last coca-cola in the desert

Una coca - A Coca Cola

Si la tienes - If you have it

Que en paza descanse - may she rip

Lanzarla las chanclas poderosas - she'll release her powerful flip-flops

Y si no me gustan? - And if I don't like it?

No seas tonto - Don't be silly/dumb

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #astv x reader #lo mejor series

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kinglivv · 2 months

Text

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.

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #gender neutral reader #fluff #kate lethbridge stewart #angst #hurt/comfort #jemma redgrave imagine #jemma redgrave x reader #jemma redgrave #kate stewart imagine #kate stewart x reader #kate stewart #kate lethbridge stewart x reader

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happiest-hotch · 1 year

Text

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."

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds smut #aaron hotch hotchner

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steviebbboi · 2 months

Text

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

#steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve meetcute #steve x you

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cherr-22 · 10 months

Text

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.

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.

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

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#tngdh

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valiantstarlights · 1 year

Text

[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.

#the proposal AU #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #the babymaker blanket from the movie always baffled me 👀#like. excuse me but what kind of family heirloom is that?? 😨#no thank you i would rather be disowned 😂#my 'Hob and Jo are siblings' agenda continues 💃

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qqueenofhades · 1 year

Note

bless u for the comprehensive answer to my last question, it is much appreciated! And sincere apologies for coming off as defeatist - you're absolutely right that, at the end of the day, the most important thing is working as hard as we can to make sure trump loses the general election. What this really clarifies for me is that my focus should be on the elections, and that I should file the judicial process under "interesting, could be useful, but will never be a silver bullet". Thank you again!

You're welcome, and I think it's most useful to think of it like this: we need to do our job (defeating Trump in 2024) so Jack Smith's job (indicting the fucker up the wazoo) will stick. We hear endless punditry and hand-wringing about how Trump will just cancel the charges if he wins, and that's often presented as some kind of terrible foregone conclusion that we will only avert by dumb luck, if we do at all. And yet, for some funny reason, we never hear about the flip side: i.e. if Trump loses, he's fucked. He will have no more reason to delay, no last-minute Hail Mary play, nothing to stop him from standing trial, being convicted, and going to jail, and that's exactly why he and the rest of the fascist criminals are throwing everything at the election. It is his last shot.

Honestly, I don't want people complacently thinking that the indictments will do the work for them and get rid of Trump -- because they will, but only if we do our job first and pound that motherfucker into the ground in 2024. I don't want anything to take away from the importance of doing everything we can to help Biden win in 2024 -- voting, volunteering, donating, talking to friends and family, you name it. We NEED to do that work so that Trump is out of miraculous golden parachutes and is left to face the consequences. And if he does (again, please God) lose, at least this time he is not the sitting American president and does not have the full resources of the federal government to attempt a coup. In that sense, if you want to see Trump properly, completely brought to justice, it's so easy:

Support the indictments

Vote for Biden in 2024

Do everything to make sure Trump loses

The end.

It's really that easy. Because as noted, if we do our part and Trump loses the election, he is fucked. That's really all there is to it.

We are in uncharted territory here because the founding fathers were eighteenth-century Enlightenment rationalists, and while they obviously did not trust a king and built in all kinds of checks and balances to prevent the president from BEING a king, they also imagined that whoever held the job would at least make a good-faith effort to follow the rules. Besides, the best-designed political system in the world would still be vulnerable to someone like Trump, who gleefully and sociopathically wrecks all norms and precedents however he pleases. That's why there isn't technically a law on the books preventing someone in prison from running for president, because the founding fathers were operating under the idea that people in American government would at least try, however badly, to perform the functions of American government. Trump doesn't. He doesn't give a shit about that. He's willing to take the whole country down in flames if it saves him personally from consequences, and while our institutional guardrails (barely) held last time, they've already said that a second Trump term would involve wrecking all of those, because he is a tinpot narcissistic psychopath dictator wannabe. And yes, it's terrifying, and yes, too many people didn't learn from 2016, and all the rest, but still:

If you want to see the fucker go to jail and reap the consequences of his actions, make sure he loses the 2024 election. That's what you need to focus on. Do that, and the rest of it will come after. So yeah.

#anthropicmoose #ask #politics for ts #the giant orange monster

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the-californicationist · 10 months

Text

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 03)

AO3 Link

SEPTEMBER

“I’m not askin’ you to hang the moon, Johnny! I’m askin’ you to drive to Glencoe. I told you, I dinnae ken who made the appointment, but it cannae be changed. Please, just do this for me. I’m your sister.”

“Don’t pull that shite. I dinnae mind makin’ the wee drive to Glencoe, but I dinnae ken fuck all about cakes! I just got back from fuckin’ Faridah, didn’t I? What do I ken about fuckin’ buttercream? Tell your maid of honor to go. She’d pick a fine cake!”

“She is going! Haven’t you been listening, you eejit? You’re takin’ her with you. She’ll help you…” a pause, and then, “I know, I know. I’m sure you were gonna meet back up with Bekah, or Cherise, or Anjali, or -”

“Hey! Tha’s no’ fair. Take it back right now, or I’ll tan your hide.”

“Come on and try, boyo! All those wee military exercises and I’ll still have you whingin’ for mum like you did that one Christmas when -”

You knocked on the door, hoping to prevent fraternal bloodshed, and the voices stopped. A long pause stretched out into infinity.

You had been standing on the porch of the MacTavish house for quite a long time. At first, seeing his Jeep in the driveway had kept you trapped in the cab, much to the cabbie’s chagrin. Over the past three months, you’d had plenty of thoughts about Johnny MacTavish and his sister. He had taken you home from the bar and put you to bed, but not in the way you might have thought, given his…reputation. The next morning, he was gone again. Pidge said they’d given him only two days away, and then he was back to Urzikstan to do whatever sandy, nasty job he had to do there.

You’d been planning on leaving as well, needing to return to the endless slog of your studies, so you booked a train home. Back at your flat, you’d started overthinking and obsessing.

How embarrassing was it that you’d gotten so drunk? He must think you’re such a loser! A girl who can’t even hold her alcohol. They all must think that about you. And now you have to do a whole wedding with them! You were never drinking again. Well, that resolution lasted about half a day, because when you started rehashing the feeling of being carried in his arms and the smell of whisky as it hung on his breath as he tucked you into his bed, you needed a fucking drink.

So, wine in hand, you began to unpack.

You weren’t completely sure if it had been a drunken accident or not, but you found Johnny’s shirt in your bag, and you immediately felt a pang of regret. Perhaps you were a thief after all. You didn’t remember putting it in there. What else had you done that you didn’t remember?

Damnit .

You thought about it for a moment, but then you caved and you put on the shirt. You rationalized it, claiming you’d wash it. No big deal.

But then, three months went by and you had found a small hole in the sleeve from overwearing it.

“Fuck!” You lamented, fingering the threads as if it couldn’t be true.

You were not a seamstress by any stretch of the imagination, but you threw a stitch in it and prayed he wouldn’t notice.

Now, it was September, and he was back to attend the official MacTavish-Hamilton engagement party. You had planned to stay the whole week with Pidge, canceling your meetings and bringing your laptop with you. You had a chapter due next Wednesday, and it was crunch time. But now, apparently, you were going to Glencoe.

With him.

Alone.

You knocked again, a little louder. The door creaked open and only Pidge greeted you over the threshold.

“Hey, babes! Come in! We’re in the kitchen. Got loads to share. So much to do… Oy, your bags are so heavy! What did you bring in here, hen? Bricks?”

“Close,” you half-smiled, “Books.”

“Och, Jesus,” she struggled a bit and then dropped them in front of Johnny’s door unceremoniously.

“Thanks, Pidge.”

She plodded into the kitchen, and you followed behind. As you rounded the corner, you saw him busying himself with the dishes, putting away cups and plates. The kettle was on, and in a few minutes, there’d be tea. He stopped as soon as he saw you, drying his hands on the striped tea towel and smiling at you. The grin didn’t quite meet his eyes, and his obvious disappointment with needing to babysit you for this Glencoe outing put a stake right through your heart.

“So,” Pidge broke the news to you in front of her brother, “I know you were going to come with me to the dress fitting, but I double booked, and now the cake shop wants to do a wee tasting. I will owe you my literal first born if you go in my place, babes.”

You tried to act surprised,

“But, wasn’t I supposed to do a fitting as well?”

“Yeah, I told them the situation, and they booked you tomorrow bright and early. Please? Don’t let my fuckin’ brother pick out my wedding cake. It’d be chocolate on chocolate and nothin’ else.”

“What’s wrong with chocolate?” Johnny was indignant.

Pidge gave him a warning look and then turned her attention back to you,

“Will you pretend to be me for a day?”

The look in her eyes told you that an option for denial wasn’t even on the table, but the look in his as he gazed down at his white-knuckled grip on the counter, said there wasn’t room for anything but.

You didn’t care what he thought (liar), and you were there for Pidge, not him.

“You know I will. They think I’m you?”

“Yes, and you need to sign for it as well. Bring back the receipt, if you would. God, you’re the absolute best.”

She kissed you on the cheek and grabbed her bag from the counter, turning to you once more before she walked out of the door,

“And don’t let this dafty give you any shite. If he’s not on his best behavior, I’ll injure him, so help me God.”

As she walked out of the house, Johnny rolled his eyes and grabbed his keys,

“C’mon, lass. It’s a trek, so we need to get petrol before we head out.”

“Sorry that you have to go with me,” you apologized, acknowledging his disdain.

He smiled and shook his head, walking you out to his jeep. The top was off, along with the doors. You quickly braided your hair back, realizing it was about to be a wind-swept drive.

“Not your fault, hen. My wee sister’s just plottin’ against me, that’s all. You ever been to the Three Sisters?”

“No,” you told him, “Not much of a hiker.”

You knew about the famed mountains, and you had heard of their stunning beauty, but you hadn’t had the opportunity to go north to see them for yourself. Without a personal car, it was hard to get out of the city much less to the mountains of Glen Coe.

You climbed up into the Jeep, using the handle to hoist yourself inside. He jumped up into the driver’s seat with ease, pulling a pair of sunglasses down from the visor and shoving them onto his face. Johnny reached over you and into the glove compartment, digging around for a bit before handing you a matching pair. They were extremely sporty, and you were certain you looked ridiculous in them, but he made them look so stylish.

“Here ya are, lass. Gonna be a long drive. We’ll go the scenic route. Cannae believe you’ve never seen the mountains. Tha’s a bloody crime.”

As you drove, he pointed out landmarks, good coffee shops to visit, and sang loudly to the radio (which was muffled by the roaring wind). He made you feel so at ease, and now that Pidge wasn’t lurking around every corner, you let yourself explore him with your eyes indulgently. You laughed at his jokes when they were funny, and smiled freely. Johnny was constantly talking to you when he wasn’t signing, asking about your work, about America, and about the places you’ve been while you were in his country.

“Oh! I know you know this one! The Cranberries? C’mon, lass, don’t break my heart,” he turned up the song as far as it would go and watched you to see if you’d sing along.

“Who doesn’t know this song?” You smiled, singing right along with him.

“…You know I'm such a fool for you. You got me wrapped around your finger…”

He smiled at you, pleased that you were playing along, practically screaming the lines.

By the time you’d made it through the gorgeous landscape to the base of the Three Sisters mountains, you were sore from laughing, and hoarse from singing, and you’d fallen head over heels for the handsome soldier again and again and again.

Eventually, you made it to the town of Glencoe, and you pulled up your map on your phone, giving him directions to the bakery. He parked in the street. It was misting a little, and he helped you out of the Jeep to bring you under the awning of a small Nero cafe. You zoomed in on the map to get a better view, and he leaned over your shoulder to see it.

He beamed,

“Aye, just ‘round the wee corner. And it’s right by the pub! Stop in for a pint after, what do you say, lass?”

“Only if we get out of there without arousing any suspicion. We have to convince them that we’re getting married.”

“Don’t worry about that. If you were my wee hen, I couldn’t keep my filthy paws off of ya. Havin’ a hard time now as it is,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, keeping up with his jokester attitude.

“Easy does it, Hammie. I’m saving myself for the wedding night, you know?” You joked right along with him, playing coy.

“Dinnae worry your wee heid, lassie. I’ll take you to confession tomorrow, and all the sins of tonight will be washed away,” Johnny grabbed you by the hand and led you back into the street.

He paused for a moment, looking down at you as your palms touched, fitting together like a glove, almost as if he had forgotten something. He shook the thought away and walked with you to the store in companionable silence.

When you arrived, he held the door open and let you step up into the warm, quiet bakery. All of the wind and the noise of the street disappeared in the little shop, and the smell of sugar overwhelmed your senses. You heard Johnny sigh, enjoying the smell himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Stiff Peaks,” a cheery little grandmother of a woman greeted you from behind the counter.

Her earrings were tiny whisks, and she had a bit of flour on her cheek. She came out from behind the register and shook your hands,

“You must be the Hamiltons, or I should say the future Hamiltons.”

“Yes ma’am,” you smiled, downplaying your American accent, “We’ve come to try your wedding cake offerings.”

“Of course, right this way.”

She led you both down a tight corridor to the back room where a single two-person table waited for you. A black camera hung obviously in the corner. You eyed it when she wasn’t looking, and Johnny met your gaze, giving you a wink.

“Here you are, Pigeon, have a seat,” he held out your chair for you to sit down, adding a level of romantic gentlemanly affection that you were not expecting, kissing your neck from behind as you sat.

The feeling of his lips sent a shock through your system. They were so soft and plush, and when he pulled away, you could feel the cold air rush across the wet spot he left behind. The sting of it tortured you, and you felt your cheeks flush. He saw them, and instead of ribbing you, he averted his eyes with an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“Och, you lovebirds,” the baker beamed, “Warms my heart, it does. I’ll be back in a spot.”

She was gone from the room, and you were about to make a comment to him, and then you remembered the camera. He was looking at it, too, and then he focused back on you. He spoke to you in a voice that was low and deep, a slow rumble that covered you like a fog, blocking out everything around you,

“Feeling alright, Pidge?”

“Just fine, mo chridhe,” you used Hamish’s favorite nickname for Brigette, and smiled sweetly at Johnny, testing out your accent.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost, but he recovered quickly, whispering, trying not to be heard by the camera,

“Do you know what that means?”

“Babe? I call you that all the time, babe.” You raised your eyebrows as the baker came back in, warning him.

He shook his head slowly, as if fighting making a comment, drinking down most of the water she had brought to the table. She also set down the first course of cake bites, one plate for each of you.

“Okay, dearies, here is the first selection. We have the classic vanilla, Italian creme, lemon custard, and a black forest. These are less adventurous, and suitable for just about any wedding, no matter how formal. Gave you a pair of wee score cards there to keep up with your winners. I’ll leave you to it!”

You looked down at the scorecard and back up at the cakes. Johnny grabbed his and immediately crossed out the black forest and the lemon custard.

“Hey!” You protested, “You haven’t even tried those. And, besides, Pid- uh, I love lemon!”

“Aye,” he cut his eyes at you, “You do love lemon, Pigeon. But, you’re the only one in the family who does. It’s out.”

“Well, I think you, Hamish, would balk at vanilla and Italian creme. Too pedestrian for a man of your exotic tastes, wouldn’t you say, mo chridhe?”

“Sure, mo mhèirleach, I’m an adventurous sort of man,” his tone turned darkly suggestive, “You ken that well enough, don’tcha?”

You felt his hand on your leg as he skated it up your thigh, giving it a hard squeeze, making you gasp. Just before you could chastise him, he cut you off, whispering in your ear,

“Careful, bonnie. Tha’s a sound I’ll like to hear again.”

You whispered back, too low even for him to hear - almost,

“Johnny…”

He gave you a look that contained that same nameless emotion as when he first grabbed your hand outside in the street. You lingered there for longer than you should have, and you were interrupted by the baker.

“Annnnd…” She gave you both time to return to your seats politely, pretending like you hadn’t just been caught breathing each other’s air, “Here is the second round. How did we like the first set, lovebirds?”

You shrugged,

“They’re beautiful, but we’re looking for something a little more…”

“Sexy,” Johnny said in a matter-of-fact voice.

You backhanded his chest, hard.

“Hamish!”

The baker laughed,

“No, no! I get it! I agree. I think you’ll like these much more. Can I get you some more water, dearie?” She asked him.

“Aye, tapadh leibh.” Thank you .

“Se do bheatha. An ann à Gleann Comhann a tha thu?” You’re welcome. Are you from Glencoe?

He shook his head, the only part of the conversation you could understand,

“Chan e, dìreach an seo a’ fheuchainn ri cèic a bruadar fhaighinn dha mo bhean bhrèagha.” No, just here trying to get my beautiful bride the cake of her dreams.

“Is urrainn dhomh innse dhut gu bheil thu dealasach.” I can tell you’re dedicated.

He laughed,

“Aye. Barrachd na thuig mi, tha mi a’ smaoineachadh.” More than I realized, I think.

Then, the baker was gone. You whispered to him,

“What did you say to her?”

“Just told her I’m allergic to almonds.”

You searched his face to see if he was lying. You couldn’t tell.

“Are you?”

“No,” he smiled, looking down at his cue card.

In the end, you went with the hummingbird cake and coconut creme filling, with a cinnamon cream cheese frosting. It was perfect for Pidge’s love of citrus, and adventurous enough for Hamish’s tastes. The baker left you with a bag of goodies; cookies, slices of the cake you selected, some macarons, and a copy of the contract.

“Thank you so much for having us. We can’t wait for the big day,” you shook her hand again and she smiled at you.

“Of course, dearie. Looking forward to it. You two enjoy each other. The days go by so fast,” she winked.

Johnny opened the door for you and let you out into the street again.

“So, Mr. Hamilton,” you said, keeping up the charade a little longer, “About that pint…”

“Mmm,” Johnny grinned rakishly, “I have a better idea, lass.”

He took you back past the cafe and ducked into a Spar. He said he needed to pick up a bottle of scotch for one of his mates, an Oban 14-year, and while he was there, he grabbed two cold pint bottles of Caledonia cider from the refrigerated section. He loaded up the Jeep again, and you waited patiently in the passenger seat, thinking you were heading home.

“You ready for your surprise, bonnie?”

“Surprise?”

He laughed, shoving his sunglasses back on and smiling as he turned off of the main road and onto a smaller lane. As you drove, the greenery became more verdant than ever. It was early September, so even though some of the leaves began to change colors, most of them retained their deep emerald hues. The branches and brush rushed by you, and from the open door of the Jeep, if you weren’t so afraid to lose a limb, you could have reached out and touched the leaves. Then, just as you rounded a corner, the hillside gave way to a stunning view.

A valley stretched out before you, showcasing the high, sloping peaks of the Three Sisters. You’d seen them from the other highway, but this road made it seem like you had entered into another realm. Just when you thought you’d have to pass them by, Johnny pulled off the road into a small car park and shut down the engine.

You got out, phone in hand, ready to take some photos. It was too beautiful not to, and if you were honest with yourself, you wanted to remember this day.

“Well, go on then, get my good side,” you spotted Johnny over your shoulder on the screen.

He put his hand around your body and squeezed you in, making sure you were both framed in the screen. You took the selfie, and then he made a noise of discontent,

“Ahh, that won’t do. Another!”

When you took this one, right as you reached for the button, he planted a kiss on your cheek. He pulled away and grabbed your phone out of your hands to look at it,

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

You watched as he texted it to himself, leaving his number in your phone as “Mo Chridhe”.

“Is that how you spell it? I never would have guessed that,” you tried to keep your voice level, pretending like the cheek kiss hadn’t phased you.

“Yeah, we just keep all the other letters in there to confuse you foreigners,” he winked, “C’mon, bit of a walk.”

He pulled the bag of drinks from the back of the Jeep, shoved a towel in the sack, nicked the macarons from your goodie bag, and left everything else in the car. You followed him up the hill quite a ways, but it wasn’t an impossible climb. By the time you reached the top, however, you were out of breath. He kept going up, motioning for him to follow you, and you found yourself next to a shallow pool, no larger than a hottub, out of view of the highway. It was quiet, and none of the tourists had followed you up even half as high. You were very much alone together.

He pulled off his shirt and glasses, tossing them on one of the towels, and went to shuck off his pants and boots. You raised your eyebrows,

“What are you doing?”

He looked up at you, knowing he was shocking you a bit,

“Braw days like this don’t come often. You heard the baker, yeah? The days go by fast. Live a little, mo mhèirleach.”

There was that nickname again. You vowed that you would look it up online later, if only you would be able to spell it.

“Johnny, we can’t just swim here, surely. Someone will come and -”

“And what? Tell us to get out?”

He dunked his head under the clear pool and came back up for air, panting from the chill of the fresh water.

“I don’t have a swimsuit…” You put the bag of treats down and sat on the edge of the pool.

“Aren’tcha wearing any knickers, mhèirleach? Gods, say no, hen. Say no…” He swam up next to you to tease you some more.

“I am!” You told him, and he gave you a look, rolling his eyes.

“Well, go on, bonnie. I’ll even turn around, since you’re savin’ yourself for our wedding bed and all tha’.”

You laughed in disbelief, unsure of everything and yet going along with his plan anyway. You waited for him to avert his eyes before pulling off your pants and as you went to take off your top, you thought you saw him peek under his lashes, but he averted his gaze again so quickly, you couldn’t be sure.

You dipped a foot into the pool. It was cool but not cold. You could stand it, but you wanted to complain a little anyway.

“Jesus, it’s cold in here. Brr!” You feigned a shiver.

“Och, c’mon, lassie. It’s no’ tha’ bad. Here. Have a wee seat by me, and I’ll get some drinks to warm us up.”

He popped the cap on the ciders using the edge of a rock, and handed you one. You drank it, savoring the dry, apple taste and soft fizz.

“There, mhèirleach. All better?”

You nodded, sitting next to him in the pool and laying your head back on the large stones, relaxing, taking in the view. It looked like something you would put on your laptop screen. It was unreal.

“You made a pretty good Hamish today,” you complimented him.

“Spent a lot of my life pretending to be other people. Comes natural at this point, ye ken?” He stared off at the mountains with you, enjoying the view.

“I’m sure you’re ready to be back in the action instead of tasting cakes with your sister’s American friend,” self-deprication was your bread and butter, so you offered it up to him to punish yourself with.

“No,” he turned his eyes away from the grandeur and focused them on you, “What did Pidge tell you about me?”

“Well, she…”

“Ah ah, no. Don’t sugar-coat it.”

You sighed, looking into your cider for courage,

“She told me not to let you get too close. Said you’re a bit of a playboy.”

He laughed in a bitter way, taking a sip of his cider,

“Did she, now? And what do you believe, hen?”

You paused, not knowing what to say. So, you just told the truth,

“I think she’s probably right. I don’t know why she’d lie to me. And Bekah and Cherise -”

“Bekah and Cherise are full of shite. And so is my wee sister.”

He shook his head, clearly upset by your appraisal. You stayed silent, not knowing what to say. You decided to try to lighten the mood,

“Bet you take all the pretty girls to this spot, playboy.”

You elbowed him in the ribs, and he spun on you, quick as a shot. He grabbed your arm that had elbowed him and faced you, standing in front of you in the clear water. It rushed along his chest, moving around the plump muscles and dusting of chest hair, matting it against his skin. He smelled so much like oranges right then, and it was invading your senses.

He ignored your attempt at a joke, and his face became serious instead,

“I ken why she kept you from me now. You’re off-limits. She knew how I’d feel. My sister knows me better than anyone, and I hate her for it.”

“Hate her?” You tried to understand what he was saying, but you didn’t pull away. His breath smelled like alcohol and apples and his eyes gleamed in the low light of the afternoon sun.

“Well, not hate, maybe. But, she must’ve known. She had to.”

“Known what?” You knew what. Some animal part inside of you bared its teeth and warned you, but you asked it anyway.

“She knew I’d like you.”

It was so quiet in your little secluded glade.

He pressed his hands to the sides of your face, staring into your eyes, looking into them, his own eyes searching them for an answer to a question you couldn’t hear.

You let him kiss you. You even kissed him back. He was cinnamon and apples and cake and sugar and tobacco and some other human taste that you chased and chased and chased.

Then, you pulled away.

“We can’t. I…I promised.”

“Aye, as did I. But, she’s a hypocrite.”

“She’s my best friend.”

He looked into your eyes and saw your desperation there, knowing he’d won but surrendering anyway.

Johnny let you go and finished his drink in a single gulp. He sat behind you, and you didn’t turn around. You felt him pull you into his lap to sit on the rough stone ledge, and he whispered,

“Tell me the sonnet you like, bonnie. You said you studied it.”

You tried to make excuses, not in the mood to show off,

“It’s not a very good one. A lot of people -”

“Say it for me. C’mon, lass. Just this once. I promise I’ll bring you back to your friend. But, just this once…”

You paused, feeling his arms wrap around you, not too tight, and nothing inappropriate, hugging you to himself platonically, waiting. You cleared your throat and tried to enunciate,

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’, To me that languished for her sake…

His fingers made little circles on your ribcage, rubbing your skin beneath the water.

“But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom; And taught it thus anew to greet…”

You grabbed his hand with your own, lacing your fingers together like a tied knot.

“‘I hate’ she altered with an end, That followed it as gentle day, Doth follow night, who like a fiend From heaven to hell is flown away. ‘I hate’, from hate away she threw, And saved my life, saying ‘not you’.”

He let out the breath he’d been holding. You couldn’t breathe. Johnny MacTavish liked you, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“Thank you, mo mhèirleach. Time to take you back. Been away with the fairies too long, I ken.”

The drive back was quiet. You held hands through the mountains. You let go as you pulled into the driveway. Your bones ached. Your wet bra and panties were making you cold, and you had tangles in your wet hair from the drive.

Johnny had left his phone in the Jeep cupholder, so you grabbed it along with the wet towels you had used. Pidge came out of the house to greet you and help with the bags,

“Jesus! What happened to you two?”

“Caught in the rain. Here’s your contract, Pidgie. I need a shower,” he covered for you.

“Roger’s here,” she reported.

Roger was Hamish’s younger brother, just a teenager. Johnny paused, looking at Pidge with a hard stare,

“And where’s he gonna sleep? We cannae put the lad on the floor, Bridgette.”

“You sleep on the floor then, you numpty,” she slapped his arm.

You interjected, torturing yourself,

“We can sleep in his bed. It’s not a big deal. It’s just for a few nights. Is that alright with you, Johnny?”

Pidge was standing between you, so she missed the pale face of fear plastered with Johnny’s open, shocked mouth.

“Shite, are you sure, babe? He snores like a bear.”

You nodded,

“No worries.”

“Johnny MacTavish, I swear on -”

“Go ‘way an’ bile your heid with that shite, Pigeon. I’m not in the mood to be your whippin’ boy.”

He walked into the house, leaving you outside with your best friend, just as he promised.

Something vibrated in your hands. It was Johnny’s phone. He had one missed call from Bekah, and as you were dismissing it, trying to close the lock screen, you saw her text pop up in the banner bar:

Ettrick’s for pints again, Soap? xx

You felt a cold shiver tremble through you as you followed Pidge inside.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Notes:

mo chridhe (moh HREE-yuh) - my heart mo mhèirleach (moh MER-lakh) - my thief

Chapter 04

#johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap mctavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader

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