something new
pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+)
cw: smut, afab!reader, fluff :3, grinding/dry humping, pussy-job, creampie, 'outercourse', soft boyfriend!mig
w/c: ~2k
a/n: rewrite of my old fic bc i need it with miguel. if you read it before ignore it ;^) mig looks like this fanart by @xynnoix
----
You’re lounging on the sofa, legs resting in Miguel's lap and sitting in comfortable silence, when you decide to proposition him.
“I saw this video online and…I wanna try something with you.” He briefly looks up from his spider-pad, attention perked at your soft-spoken voice.
You beam at him from across the couch, an innocent smile slapped on your face as your lashes bat nicely against the tops of your cheeks.
Miguel simply shakes his head dismissively, “Cariño, we’re not doing any more MMA techniques.” He swiftly turns his attention back to his work, pointedly ignoring your childish pout. “You got hurt last time, remember?”
You let out an exaggerated sigh, “First, I didn’t even twist my ankle during the match! I literally slipped down the stairs when we left the training area. Secondly, that’s not even what I’m talking about!”
“Ok, then what is it? WWE moves?” He asks teasingly, eyes still focused on the screen.
“Actually…I wanna try outercourse-- i-is that how you say it?” You talk about it so casually that he doesn't even realize what you’re saying until he plays it back in his head a few times. The finger that was working through several urgent emails slows down as you continue to ramble.
“...Like pussy-jobs and grinding, I think. I don’t exactly know the technical terms that are involved, but it looked hot–” Your voice tapers off when you realize he’s looking at you.
His darkened gaze concentrates on your thighs that are unintentionally rubbing together as you recall your new interest.
You know that look. His glaze-over eyes, furrowed brows, and tense body mean one thing: he’s interested too.
Despite how worked up he is, Miguel manages to gently place his tablet on a side table before slowly wrapping his fingers around your ankles on his lap.
“So you want me to fuck you without actually fucking you?”
“Y-yes...?”
He hums, turning his whole body to face you.
He fluidly pulls your body down to lay flat on the couch in front of him, barely leaving any room for him to sit. You feel his hand tap the side of your thigh.
“Open up for me, baby.”
Your loose shorts hike up your thighs as you obediently spread your legs for him, kneesbending to make space for him to scoot closer to you. The pale pink fabric displays a dark splotch over your center, evidence of your arousal and lack of underwear underneath. Miguel tauntingly raises an eyebrow when he notices.
“Aw, is your pussy already leaking for me?” Your breath stutters as he lightly glides his finger over your covered cunt.
“J-just a little.” Your thighs threaten to close when you feel him prod shallowly against your entrance. He groans, noticing how his movements encourage your slick to soak through the flimsy fabric of your shorts.
You whine as you feel him pull away.
“Such a juicy slut for me.” He rasps, pushing himself closer to you so his head hangs over yours. Your head swims when you breathe in his comforting scent, he's so close, but you need him closer. Your body instinctively attempts to press up against him.
“Gimme a kiss, cariño.”
You immediately obey, wrapping your arms around his neck and locking your legs over his waist, effectively pulling his warmth into your space. He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours, taking time to breathe you in as your gaze locks with his.
A breath is caught between you as you gaze into each other’s eyes, drinking each micro-expression on your face. Miguel lets out a soft sigh, "You're gorgeous."
And the intense mood breaks.
You pull away to lightly giggle into his chest, a soft blush blooming from the edge of your neck to the tops of your cheeks. He matches your smile, watching with amused eyes as you react to his flattery.
Somehow he can still make you feel unbearably giddy despite the months you’ve been dating.
You look back up with a crooked smile, “You’re pretty too, Spider-Man.”
Miguel dips his head in and captures your lips in his. He’s gentle at first, slowly savoring your lips with small nips and caresses. He runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of your bottom lip, trailing a line over the sensitive skin, then pushing further against your mouth.
You whine when he licks into your mouth, coaxing your tongue to mingle with him, to taste your mixed flavor of lust.
Your back arches when he presses a finger flush against your throbbing clit. it simultaneously sends warm ecstasy down your legs and up your spine, and you can feel your center pulsing, craving more.
Miguel leaves your mouth as he moves further up the couch to fit himself between your thighs. His forearms support his weight next to your shoulders as he gently lets his hips rest against yours. You can already feel his stiff cock twitching persistently between your bodies.
“Is this okay?” He asks, voice husky as he considers you under him.
Your eyes blearily blink up at him before you give him a shy nod, already looking thoroughly fucked out with your mussed hair and pink lips. He experimentally pushes down against you and starts to grind himself into your body with controlled strokes.
The rough texture of his jeans digs deliciously into your softness, barely subdued by the thin fabric of your shorts. Pleasure zips up your spine as he involuntarily ruts against your clit with each shove of his hips. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, attempting to smother your cries into his skin.
“This what you wanted?” He growls, body hot and heavy against yours.
You feel yourself grow infinitely wetter, warmth spreading over your inner thighs. You whine as he twitches against you, your body hypersensitive to everything around you.
“Mm, fuck.” He feels your slick slowly travel through the thickness of his jeans.
He can barely hear your wrecked voice over the sound of his jeans rubbing over you and the couch rocking against the wooden floors.
“Wait.”
His hips stutter to a stop, “Wait?” Miguel's eyes look worried as he searches your face, wondering if something went wrong.
“I-I just want more.” You bite your lip nervously as you stare back at him, feeling guilty that you scared him.
The tension in his body slacks quickly, like cool water rushing down his back. “More?”
You nod sheepishly, “Uh-huh.”
He climbs off of you and kneels on the floor to your side, “Ok, can you show me?” His voice is soft and patient as he speaks to you.
He watches as you shove your hips upwards to tug off your shorts before throwing them to the side. You do the same with your tank top, then settle back into the couch cushions.
Your legs squeeze together as your sensitive nipples tighten when exposed to the cool air. You look over at Miguel who’s admiring your bare body next to you, “You too.” He immediately pulls off his shirt and shoves down his jeans before rejoining you.
Miguel kneels on the couch and pushes your legs up to reveal your dripping pussy, leaking messily from your rutting session a few minutes ago. He slaps himself over your warmth, spreading your slick over your cunt and watching it drip down to your ass.
“Such a pretty pussy.”
Before you know what’s happening, he positions himself against your entrance and tries to push into your cunt, tip slowly slipping into you with ease. He groans as your cunt instinctively sucks him in, walls fluttering as he begins to stretch you.
“No–wait, that’s not what we’re doing!” You simultaneously scoot away and squeeze your legs together once you catch on to what’s happening.
“What-”
“Outside, Mig, remember? Only outside.” You push up and lean against the couch arm, hair poofed adorably around you. “Here, I’ll show you. Lay down where I was.” You direct, moving off the couch to give him enough room.
“Okay.” He takes your place, cock bobbing with his movements as it stays desperately hard for you. You bite your lip as your eyes trace the happy trail that graces his lower stomach. God, he's delicious.
You straddle yourself over his hips, admiring how delectable he looks below you, hot and ready for you to climb on. He watches you with anticipation as you position yourself his erection that rests against his stomach.
His breath hitches when you sit your full weight onto him, the pressure makes him throb against the seam of your cunt. You experimentally rub yourself against the silken skin of his cock, barely holding yourself up on your knees to make it easier to move. He groans as you spread your warmth over his cock and the bottom of his muscled torso.
“So wet for me, baby.” He looks up at you with heavy eyes, his top lip barely covering his protruded fangs. His hand squeezes the top of your thigh when you lock eyes.
A small piece of your hair sways over his forehead with each movement of your hips. As you grind over him, the head of his cock nudges delectably against your clit causing you to clench around nothing every time it hits you.
You pathetically puff out breaths as your stomach tightens in heat, eyes already threatening to roll to the back of your head. Lewd wet sounds lick between your bodies as you fluidly slick yourself against him.
Your thighs shake as you get closer to the edge, hips slowing down as the white-hot pleasure ripples through your body. Miguel licks his lips and takes initiative, canting his hips upwards in sync with yours, slipping himself more firmly against you.
He pulls your arms off of his chest and gathers them behind your back. Your spine arches prettily for him, ass stuck out behind you. In this position, you’re forced to surrender yourself to every push of his hips and slip of his cock.
It’s electrifying. You cry out when your orgasm pulls you under its firey wave. Your thighs clench around his hips as your body trembles above him. The sparks refused to flicker off as Miguel continues to rut against you, body tenses as he meets his end as well.
He thrusts one final glide of his cock through the soaked petals of your cunt before abruptly pushing into you, overwhelming your senses with the painfully exquisite sensation of being stretched all at once.
He growls as your warmth wraps around him, fluttering prettily as he shoves himself deep inside.
He stutters inside of you, pushing himself incredibly deep inside of you as he cums and cums, filling you to the brim. A satisfying warmth pools at the bottom of your stomach as he paints your walls, soothing your weak body as it recovers from your orgasm.
You collapse onto Miguel's body, ignoring how unbearably hot it is as your bodies try to cool down. His heart beats heavily next to yours and everything slows down. He hums under you, gently stroking a hand against your back .
You don’t know how long you lay there, enjoying each other’s company, but you're half awake by the time Miguel gets up, with you, boneless, in his arms.
“How does a bath sound, mi vida?” You lazily look up at him as he carries you to the bathroom with ease. His voice is still so...sultry.
“Am just I weak or something?” Your voice rasps harshly, “How are you not fighting the urge to pass out right now?”
He nuzzles his face into your body, pecking a kiss against your sweat-stick throat. “I could actually go again if you'd like..."
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All Too Well
pairing: joe burrow x fem!reader (+18)
summary: enemies since childhood, y/n and joe burrow meet again in LSU, joe to play for the university's team while studying consumer and family financial services and y/n to study mechanical engineering, while also being a cheerleader for the team. what happens when they encounter each other after a fateful night?
word count: 7.1k
warnings: cursing, implied smut, fratboy!joe, asshole!joe, reader skinpicks, angst, use of y/n, author not knowing how an american uni works.
author's note: first published fanfic! i hope you enjoy! keep in mind english isn't my first language, so i'm sorry in advance for any mistakes, also this wasn't proofread bc it's too long and i'm lazy lmaoo.
Sat in the airport, legs over your luggage, you started to question the decision you had made a month ago. It all started in June, when an old colleague from LSU reached out to you via email with a simple, yet — to you — terrifying invitation.
Your colleagues from university were planning a Fourth Of July party in Baton Rouge, the one place in earth you swore to never step foot on again. Well, it's not like the city itself had done anything to you, more like the college life did. Your college years were a part of your life you desperately wanted to forget, partly because going to LSU meant giving up on your dream of studying abroad, and partly, well, let's just say a certain blonde with a degree on consumer and family financial services was to blame.
With an acute voice echoing through the airport gates, you sighed, getting up to get on the plane.
As the aircraft was in the air, you get your playlist blasting on the headphones and not long after that, you drift off to sleep.
You wake up when there's 20 minutes left to land on the city, and as you get your phone to send a message to your friend, Emily, the device decides to make this trip a little harder than it should have ever been. On that bright screen, on a small box with "Years ago on this week.." written over it, was the picture.
It was night when you woke up, tangled on the white strawberry sheets of your own dorm bed. Opening your eyes quietly, you saw the one man that had put you on that position earlier. Sat with his back to you, there was Joe. He had only his sweatpants on, and you could see the reddish marks, the ones caused by you, were starting to fade on his skin. His hair was messy and he breathed slowly, seeming oddly calm giving what had just happened.
Joe and you had been, well.. enemies? since you could remember. It all started in school, you had a dream of becoming a world famous dancer, a cheerleader in college, and Joe just thought it was stupid, all of it. He was quite shy, but you knew he had a dream as well. Joe wanted to be a football star, but nobody knew that. He'd just let it slide once when you two were fighting on the school's playground. When you two got to the age in which people go to university, you thought you had finally seen the last of him. How foolish, truly. After two years of studying engineering at Louisiana State University and being in the cheerleading team, there he was, ready to make your life miserable for another few years.
That was, of course, until now. You'd never imagine you see him like this; half naked, messy hair and your cat on his lap as he caressed her head, whispering in a baby voice to her as she purred softly.
You smiled, because why wouldn't you? Shifting quietly on your bed, as if he was a scaredy animal you could scare away with any abrupt movements, you get your phone, taking a picture of him. It was dark, blurred, but you didn't mind, you could tell it was Joe, his big silhouette right in the center of the photograph. In your head, you knew you wouldn't need to keep this blurry memento, you were certain the amount of opportunities to take pictures of him now were infinite, or so you thought, drifting to sleep again.
The pilot's voice pulls you out of your little daydream, announcing the plane had arrived in Louisiana.
"I shouldn't have come." You chant in your head as you exit the plane, heading over to the landing area to wait for Emily.
You and Emily had met in LSU, and became inseparable since then. She was your roommate and, despite being highly introverted, you managed to develop your longest friendship ever with her.
When Anna, the colleague that invited you to the party, emailed you, Emily was the first person to text you, begging you to come and enjoy a night with the people you hadn't seen in so long. She also missed you a lot since both of you hadn't seen each other much after college, of course, you somehow managed to see each other every year and talk almost everyday, but it wasn't as close as you wished.
Emily lived in Louisiana with her husband, Dave, who had also gone to LSU with you, and of all the times you had seen each other, she had gone to your home, so you technically kind of owed this to her.
Waving in a frantic manner, there she was. Slightly different from last time, but still your best friend. You smile, walking towards her.
"I'm so glad you're here!" she says once she gets a hold of you, hugging you as if you could run away at any moment. You kind of wished you could, but she made everything better. She had that superpower.
"I'm glad I could come, Ems. I've missed you so much." You smile, looking at her as she helps you with your heavy bags.
The two of you start walking towards the exit to her car, catching up after a long time. Emily put you to date on what every single old colleague was up to now, and you laughed at the amount of gossip she was able to retain.
"Where's Dave?" You furrow your brows, just realizing someone was missing.
Emily opens the trunk and you help her put your bags on it. Panting after carrying so much weight, she replies "Home. He was working so he couldn't come, but he's super excited to see you." as you two get into the vehicle.
And with that, the engine starts and soon you're on the highway, on the way to her house.
The week in Emily and David's house had passed very quickly, and you throughly regretted ever wishing you hadn't came. She had shown you every bit of the city, and things had changed a lot. Now, you were in their guest room, getting ready to the reason that had you coming all the way from New York to Louisiana.
It was fourth of July, and you had heard fireworks all day around the neighborhood, even stopping to watch them for a bit before going for a shower.
"They're pretty, aren't they?" Emily said through the kitchen window as she saw you looking up outside.
"Very much." You turned around, smiling at her.
"Anna told me they're having fireworks tonight, I think you'll like it."
You got a bit excited, you've always loved fireworks, they were like drawings in the biggest canvas you could ever get, the sky.
"Looking forward to it!" You said, going up the stairs to get ready.
Looking in the mirror, you sigh. You wore an USA flag bodysuit and jean shorts. This whole patriotism seemed stupid, but Emily dragged you into it, alleging you were allergic to fun. Nonetheless, you looked good.
"Y/N! Let's go, we're gonna be late!"
Breathing in deeply, you close your eyes and stare at yourself one last time. You knew Joe would probably attend the party, he loved parties, and still, you came. You couldn't give up now, you couldn't get this stupid thing get to you. He probably doesn't even remembers everything that happened that day.
You shake your head, moving those thoughts away as you go downstairs, seeing Emily and Dave ready sitting on the couch.
"You look amazing! I told you you'd rock this fit." she gets up, hugging you.
"You too, Ems." you laugh, fixing your hair after she lets you go. "Shall we?"
"After you, Miss United States!" David jokes, signaling for you to get out of the house first. You laugh, rolling your eyes.
The three of you get in the car, and the drive to the party is filled with singing and more of Emily informing you of your colleague's current lives.
When Dave finally pulls over to the party, you can already hear the loud music in the car. Looking out the window, you see the last thing you'd expect to see today: Joe's parents house.
When Robin and Jim were away, Joe would always throw parties in his house instead of in the frat house. It made sense, giving the fact his house was a bit bigger. Snapping back to reality, you froze, but still had hopes of not seeing him tonight, after all, the amount of people that would come to the party was huge.
Entering the house, you were struck by fairy lights hanging on the roof, from a wall to another, and USA flags all over the house. There was a big wood table in a corner with punch and other drinks, but other than that, the place looked pretty much the same. It was weird coming back after all these years, but it still had a familiar air to it.
After almost 50 minutes, Emily was already drunk and fooling around somewhere with her fiancé. You were finally alone, and by now you had roamed the entire house, gladly not meeting Joe not even once. You thought about leaving, but not before going to your favorite spot in the house, the only one you hadn't explored today yet.
Joe's house had a small attic, which you adored. When he threw parties in high school and you couldn't get away from your friend's pleas to come, this was the place you found yourself in. So, after 6 years, there were you again. On that narrow wooden space that had a somewhat medium window with a view to the back of the house, where the party was most wild. You were surprised to see they hadn't moved a thing, it felt like you had time-traveled to your school years.
In front of the window, there was an old blue armchair, the one you would sometimes sleep on waiting for Emily and the others to want to go home. The rest of the attic was filled with boxes, some with trophies and pictures of Joe, with his family, his team, and his coach.
You sat on the armchair, arms hugging your knees as you looked at the window, the music that once made your head hurt because of the volume was long gone, sounding now like white noise.
Entering the football team frat house, you could see neon lights and hear music blasting through the speakers. Soon enough, all the other cheerleaders and Emily were dancing and having fun, after all the team had won the game, there was no reason not to celebrate. Except for you, because a win for LSU immediately meant running into Joe Burrow, or seeing his face all over the university for a week or so.
Sitting on a couch in the living room, you had a privileged view to the enormous door that swung open, revealing a sweaty but smiley Joe. He walks in as he normally does, exhaling an air of cockiness around him. He has a bottle of beer in hand, and already looks drunk as he laughs to his teammates. After being showered in praises and congratulations, he's free to walk a bit further, which is when he sees you. His eyes immediately glance at your jersey, and you immediately regret having done what you did.
Earlier that day, before you left for the party, it started to snow, and you realized you hadn't brought a single coat to the game. The girls were about to leave and they didn't want any delays, so you looked around for anything that could cover your body and protect you from freezing.
The only thing you could find was an old LSU football team jersey with the name "BURROW" stitched on the back. You sighed, but tried to confort yourself by thinking nobody would see it, after all, the lights at the party were pretty low.
All of it cumulated to this moment. This disgusting look he gives you as he looks down, glaring at his jersey. "What the hell are you wearing?”
Of course he would recognize it, it was his, after all. You cursed yourself mentally in all the languages you know, and prayed that Emily would come to you out of the blue to take you home. She didn't.
"Please, don't start, Joseph." You say, trying to ignore him. "I was cold and this was the only thing I could find."
“Yeah, right. Just say you were trying to piss me off, like always.” he scowls.
"Not everything is about you, QB." You get up, furrowing your brows at the audacity, annoyance dripping in your voice.
“Everything is most definitely not about you either, cheerleader.” he scoffs, and his teammates laugh. “You're still not even good at that.”
"And you're still not even good at your little games, idiot." I scoff. "Let me remind you, I'm the one going to the national competition while you're still playing football in college."
This time, his friends mutter a low "oooh".
He's stunned for a moment, then he scowls and gets closer to your face. “Watch your mouth. This is my last season here anyway, then i’m going straight to the NFL and everyone's gonna know my name, who knows what you’ll be doing.”
You just still didn't know he actually meant it.
"The NFL?" You laugh, hands on your chest. "You know, Joey.." You say, calling him by the nickname his friends had given him, in an attempt to piss him off. "To be on the NFL, you gotta be one of the greats." You stare at him, getting closer. "Something you.. are not."
He scowls, and his friends are surprised, the nickname really got to him. Before you can get another word in, he grabs you and pulls you close, his voice is low and cold. “Who the fuck are you calling Joey? You don’t get on the nickname level with me, Y/N."
Your squirm under his touch, trying to get off of him. A bit of fear seems to be creeping up in your eyes, and you try your best to not let it show.
"Don't fucking touch me!" You slap him, getting some inches away and staring at him in awe.
He recoils a bit, then glares. His lips are trembling, and you’ve never seen him angry like this, even his breath is shaky. He doesn't look like the Joe you once fed turtles in kindergarten with. He clenches his fist and looks around, he’s got the attention of everyone at the party “Are you seriously gonna slap the quarterback?”
"Fuck you! You're a horrible person that thinks that because you're a star you can do whatever the fuck you want, well, breaking news, YOU CAN'T." You scoff, angrier than ever, while removing the jersey off of you, throwing it at him, eyes swelling with tears.
"You're a fucking parasite, a manwhore who thinks everything's about you. I hope you never get to the NFL." This time it comes out lower, like a personal threat. You desperately crave to hurt him in a way he won't be able to laugh at or make jokes. Turning around, you walk out of the house, everything seemed to suffocate you.
He's stunned, no ones ever talked to him like that, specially you, the one person he was so used to getting shit from. He just stares at your back, the BURROW that was once hidden by your messy hair now gone, in his shaky hands. A range of emotions go through him. He's mad, but then there’s a sadness, he feels unwanted, as if the only reason people talk to him is because he is the quarterback. He doesn’t want you to leave like this, but he doesn’t know what to say, so he just yells “Where are you even gonna go?!”
"Somewhere you're not!" You scream, not even bothering to turn around to face it, crossing the door and walking through the garden in front of the house.
At this point, the party had gone back to what it once was, a loud, fun mess.
He sighs, then chases after you. When he catches up, he grabs your arm and forces you to turn around to face him. “Where the hell do you think you're going? You're not safe, there's a bunch of drunkards out there today."
"Like you give a fuck." You shrug, shaking your arm to get away from his grip. You turn around and start walking, the cold getting to you again. The snow fell mercilessly and all you had was the thin sweater that covered your cheerleading clothes.
He sighs, then realizes you’ll freeze outside. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in. You're so incredibly small compared to him you can feel his heart beating fast and his muscles tense from anger. “I do care. Just… come back inside, you're gonna freeze out here."
"Leave me alone! I fucking hate you!" The tears start falling as you punch his chest in a frantic way. It didn't hurt him, of course, but you didn't know that.
He scowls when you do so, gritting his teeth, then just watches you cry. He sighs and pulls you in tight, his body heats yours up. He rocks you like a baby, and whispers “Let me explain. I didn't meant for things to be like this.”
"Like what? Like living hell?" You away from his embrace, but part of you wishes you hadn't. Joe was so big and warm you didn't even needed a coat. "You hate me. Why are you even doing this?" you yell, the loud blasting music from the party muffling your screams. "Go back to your stupid party with your friends and your girls. I'm going home."
He grabs your arms and makes you turn to him. “I don’t.. hate you. I just get mad and take it out on you. I know that’s not right, i’m trying to fix it. Let me take you home.”
"Oh please." You scoff, tears still falling. "No need. I'll walk." You say, shivering due to the cold.
He sighs again. “You're not going home alone, it's not safe. I don’t care if you hate my guts, i’m not letting you walk alone.”
Joe's words and actions pierce you like a bullet. Never, in a million years, you had imagined you'd hear him talk to you like this. Of course, it was still rude, but there was a sweetness to it. You say nothing, as you couldn't bring yourself to. As he puts the jersey you once threw in his face back on your shoulders, the shivering reduces a bit, and your lips stop trembling, their reddish color that was once white from the cold, reappearing. His big hands stroking your back felt so gentle, and helped you get rid of the cold as he gently and quietly led you to his car. He opens the door to the passenger seat and waits for you to get in. You do so, surprisingly, and he closes it, turning around to get into the driver's seat.
He climbs in the drivers seat and starts the engine. The warm air that comes out of the vents warming you up as he looks over at you. You watch him drive, he seems so focused, and when he speaks, it’s in a quiet voice “I'll walk you to your door, then you should probably take a hot shower to warm up, your gonna get sick like this.”
"There's no need. I'll survive." you say, pulling the jersey closer and breathing in the warmth.
“I'm not gonna risk you getting sick just because you decided to be stubborn now.” You can’t help but notice how gentle his voice is, a nice contrast to how cold he seemed towards you at the party.
"Fine." You whisper, and after a few moments in silence, he finally pulls up to the dorms. You open the door of the car and get out, the cold getting to you again. You sigh.
Joe does the same and the two of you walk in silence towards the entrance of the building. Once you reach the door, you turn around, "You've done enough, Burrow. I mean it. Go back to your party, you have a win to celebrate." You say, grabbing your keys and unlocking the door.
“I wanna see you safe in your house before i go, I feel responsible for you getting cold out here.” he doesn’t want you to think he doesn’t care about you, when it’s clear from the way he’s acting he only thinks of you and your safety right now.
You nod, his gentle words feeling like daggers in your heart, making you almost regret the way went a few rounds with him earlier.
Getting into your aparment, you take off your shoes, holding the door for him to do the same, and when he does, you lock it again, before making your way to the small kitchen.
"Can I get you anything? Water, tea..?" You ask, trying to be a good host. You and Emily never expected no one to come to the apartment, so there was never many food or drink options.
He follows you to the kitchen, shrugs and looks around. The apartment is not very big, but it’s homely. From the kitchen, you can see the entire living room, including the door, and then there's a small hallway that leads to the rooms and bathroom.
He looks at you when you offer him something and smiles, it breaks his scowl, it looks good on him. He looks at you for a moment, then says “Can i get a glass of water?”
You nod and get on your tip toes to open the cabinet, getting a glass and then filling it with water, handing it to Joe as you take a seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen's island.
He takes the glass and drinks from it, still holding on to his scowl, but it slowly drops off as he begins to relax. He sits down beside you, close enough that his knees are touching yours “Your apartment is so different from mine.”
You sigh, making small talk with him was the last thing on your list for today, but still, you gave it a shot.
"How so..?" You say, not even bothering to look at him. Instead, the cup of water you had poured to yourself in front of you was the one getting all of the attention. The fact that the only person in the entire campus that hated you was the one to bring you home was already embarrassing enough, so you were still to wrap your mind around the fact he was still here.
He watches you and looks around the kitchen, not sure how to explain it to you. For a few moments he just looks at you, trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s just different from anything i’m used to.”
"Calling me poor now, are we, Burrow?" You shrug, letting a small laugh fall from your lips.
He glares, then realizes you were joking and laughs a little bit. You can notice he still smiles when he looks at you, which is surprising considering how he always scowled at you. “I'd never call you poor, especially not after seeing your outfit tonight.” he looks you up and down.
"Mr. Joseph Burrow's a fashionista?" You chuckle, this wasn't something you'd ever expect from him. There wasn't any monograms or brand names on the sweater you wore, but if you were a someone into good clothing, you'd recognize it.
He laughs and shakes his head, he can’t help but notice your curves and he looks down, trying not to stare. “I wouldn’t consider myself a fashion guy, i just know something looks nice when i see it.. and your outfit looks very nice on you."
"Yeah, sure.." You nod, standing up and grabbing both of the glasses. You take them to the sink, putting your hair up in a bun and washing them. "I'm okay now, Burrow, really. I don't know why you did what you did tonight, but thank you." The thank you comes out like a whisper, but you pray he does notice. "Come back to your party, enjoy your teammates and your girls. There's still time."
He shifts in his seat and watches you as you wash the glass, his mind is conflicted. Part of him wants to follow his teammates back to the party, the other part wants to stay with you, see how long the small talk can go before it turns into a fight again. His eyes watch you as his breathing starts to pick up a bit. When you thank him, he realizes you don’t want to talk about the fight or why he did what he did at all.
He shakes his head and stands up. “I guess I better get going then."
"Yeah.. of course." You flash him a shy smile, and the awkward silence sets in again.
He notices your smile and smiles back, not knowing how to express himself right now, although he doesn’t know how to leave either. He just awkwardly stands there, staring at you, his eyes are locked on yours, he can’t help but notice how beautiful they are. The two of you lost in your own thoughts, the silence filled with tension. Then he speaks “Can i ask something before I go?”
"Yes."
“Why'd you wear that jersey? You knew it would piss me off, so why’d you wear it?”
You sigh, you had already explained that, but Joe seemed so drunk you thought maybe he had forgotten. "I told you, I was cold and I had forgotten my hoodie." you point to the couch, where the green hoodie rested on. "I knew it would piss you off, and trust me when I say I wasn't going for that today, but it happened. I'm sorry for it, you can have it back now." You say, taking the jersey off for the second time that night, except this time you don't throw it on his face. Instead, you just gently hand it to him, like a peace offering.
He takes it, looking down at it in his hands, then he looks back up at you. He sighs and is suddenly filled with mixed feelings, anger, sadness, his emotions feel overwhelming. He doesn’t want to yell and argue with you again, but he also doesn’t want to leave. He can’t stop looking at you and your eyes, he can’t help but love how pretty they are. "Can I please keep this? Please..?" he whispers.
"Why are you asking me that? It's yours, it has your name on it." You say matter-of-factly, fidgeting with your hands, something you do when you're nervous.
You can tell he’s trying really hard not to smile at you, his voice is soft when he says “Yeah… but it’s got your sweat on it… your smell… I want something to remind me of you… even though, you know… we always seem to get each other mad.”
You don't understand, after all, you see each other every single day. The best "something to remind me of you" he could ever ask for was standing right in front of him everyday.
You furrow your eyebrows. Years of fighting, screaming and pissing each other off leading to this moment was something you couldn't wrap your mind around. "Do I need to remind you we hate each other? Until this morning, you'd get me suspended from LSU if you could."
He laughs, and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable and soft state. "We both know I don’t wanna get you suspended from LSU, I mean, come on.. just look at you.” he stares at you, you see his eyes roaming your body like he always does, but there’s a different look about them. "You deserve this scholarship more than I do, you've always have."
"Yeah.." You scoff, not believing a word, looking at the jersey on his hands and then at his eyes. His big, blue eyes that you got lost in countless times before.
He smiles at you, realizing the snarkiness he just heard. He doesn’t mind the teasing, in fact, he kinda likes it. He stares at you for a minute, then he looks back down at the jersey “I like how it fits tight on you.” he says without realizing it.
"Tight? You're big as hell, it looks huge on me." You laugh, remembering how the jersey looked on you when you put it on earlier today.
He laughs silently to himself, a big smirk appears on his face. He looks at your body, then smiles. “You're just too small, but I do like how it fits on you."
You feel goosebumps throughout your entire body and your cheeks heat up. You curse yourself mentally for letting it all show so easily.
He's still staring at you, but doesn’t realize just how much he’s making you blush. He continues to speak in a low voice "I can see your belly button when you dance for us on the field.." He pauses, but decides to go on, and it's like you can hear the engines turning in his head. "I can see your bra strap when you go so high in the sky I feel my hands covered in cold sweat in fear that you'll fall and I won't be there to catch you. I can see your collarbones when you get so close to me when we're fighting that I wish I would just lean in and shut you the fuck up. I can see how you blush when I sweep you off your feet and leave you speechless, like i'm doing now." He steps closer. "I can see all of you. Matter of fact, Y/N, I think you're all I have ever wanted to see." He states, like it's a fact, like he has always known that. You feel your eyes starting to water and you feel stupid. "Every inch of you looks amazing in that jersey, it fits you like nothing else i’ve ever seen."
You sigh, it's almost like you can feel your skin being touched by him just by the way he’s looking at you. You feel like a forest fire, and his voice tone doesn't help. "Stop.."
His voice is so low when he talks, you want him to keep speaking. You want to hear his voice go on and on, to get you worked up, but also to lull you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in years. He keeps staring at you as he speaks “Just look at your shoulders, the fabric wraps all around them so perfectly, they’re such beautiful curves, just like the rest of you. Just look at you.. Jesus." He sighs.
You squirm under his gaze, but in a split second you're reminded of everything that happened before this moment. Before being here, in your small dorm, talking to the man you earlier thought to be the meanest person you knew. "I won't fall for it. I'm not the girls you get after winning games."
He chuckles and looks away, clearing this throat before going on "Those girls are just something to make me feel good, they don’t even mean anything to me. But you.. even when you make me angry, I want nothing but to feel you in my arms. You make me feel so good, even when you piss me off.”
"You don't mean that." You mutter, trying to stay calm. You pick the skin on your arms while staring at him.
His eyes shift back to yours when you speak, he sighs and you can tell for a minute he’s conflicted on what to say. "I know you don’t believe I mean all those words, but honestly, I mean every word. You are the only girl who's ever made me feel something, even if we’re arguing, that means we at least have some emotion we want to put towards each other. I'd rather have you making me mad than have someone making me feel nothing at all."
A single tear slides down your cheek. "You're drunk, that's what it is. You're drunk and this.." You point to yourself, and then to him, "..must be a prank."
“I know that’s all we’ve known for years, but maybe the reason you make me so mad is because I have feelings for you. You are the only girl I have ever wanted to talk to like this. You're the only girl that makes me feel this way. I never want to stop talking to you, I just want to tell you how beautiful you are, even when you make me mad, or when you push me so far it makes me want to push you towards the wall and kiss you."
You stare at him like everything you've ever known has finally made sense. A few more tears drip from your eyes and you sigh. "You promise?" it comes out in a whisper.
He smiles and you can tell it's not a fake drunk smile. This is the smile he flashes at someone when he's letting down his guard and being completely honest and vulnerable. "I promise. I don't want anyone else, I want you. I wanna be the guy who makes you happy like no one else could. I want you to be there when I get into the NFL and I want to be able to look for you on every game, waving at you when I see you're wearing my jersey because you finally want to, because it means something."
You look up, melting over his voice, your eyes meeting his like never before. His eye color seemed different now, a more vivid blue. His eyes seemed more relaxed, a nice contrast to the ones full of rage that always came with a furrowed brow. "I want you, too." You whisper.
He smiles, a real and sweet smile. This time when his eyes roam your body, you feel like he isn't looking at you in a nasty way like always, he's just looking at you because he thinks he's the luckiest boy in the world.
You smile, "Do I need to call you some names to have you kissing me now?" It makes him laugh, and your eyes lock on his. There isn't any words, just feelings, and you can see it in him when the realization sets in that you want him too.
You get on your tip toes as Joe pulls you towards him, your lips finally touching each other. Your belly feels as if you just rode a rollercoaster, as if the LSU football team had won, as if there was fireworks inside of you like there's in the sky on the fourth of July. But instead it was all him, the same boy that you once hated so much, doing all of this to you without even trying.
Immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice when someone opened the door and came in, what gave it away was the smell, and you wondered if it would ever change.
"Joseph..?" you froze, again, but still managed to turn around on the armchair, feet now touching the ground.
His eyes meet yours for the first time in.. well, years, since that fateful night. He looked.. the same. Although his hair was shorter now and he looked bigger than ever, his face was the same. The same mesmerizing ocean blue eyes, pointy nose, and rosy cheeks, which you always found funny, because it looked like he had blush on. He wore a threadbare white shirt, shorts, and a tennis shoe, but they weren't the same as years ago, and you thought to yourself how an outfit of his now would cost probably more than your monthly earnings. He also wore a USA flag headband, which you had seen earlier laying on the wood table for everyone to get one. You thought it looked.. funny.
"Y/N." He nods. It felt like forever since your name had left his lips for the last time.
"Sorry, I-" You start, getting up from the chair as you wrote a full apology in your head for being in a private part of his home. "I thought nobody would need the room, I'll leave now."
"Nobody does." He takes a sip of his drink, his hands looking huge as he holds the red cup. "Dave told me you came with him and Emily, had to see it for myself."
He says, getting closer and finally leaning onto the window, arms resting just above it. Another sip, and you find yourself sitting again.
"How'd you know I was here?" You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding a thing. His eyes don't wander from the view. You're stiff, and you think you've probably never felt so nervous.
"You always are."
If you thought your eyebrows couldn't furrow any more, you were wrong. As soon as the words fell from his lips, you were in complete shock. Does that mean he knew that, all this time, you spent the parties in his attic, alone, dying to go home? That he knew you slept here, not once, not twice, but several times before?
"What?" Is all you manage to say, embarrassment taking over you.
"I mean, when I threw parties in high school you were always here. I know you don't like parties but you would always come because of Emily, and somehow your nights always ended here."
Your eyes widened, and you swore that if your mom could see you now, she would say something along the lines of You look like you've seen a ghost.
You kind of felt like you had.
"I'm surprised you like the place, it's kinda small." He finally shifts, taking his arms off the window and setting his now empty cup on the small wood piece that rested under the window. You blush, after all this time.
When you woke up in the morning, Joe was no longer there. You didn't panic, just thought of it as typical him. Getting up from the bed, you saw Emily on her chair, watching something on her computer.
"Morning, sleeping beauty." she says as she hears you yawn.
"Morning, Ems." You smile, sitting up straight. "D'you have a good night?"
"Obviously, duh. Dave's a gentleman." she states, bragging, and you laugh. "He also told me you and Joe left together last night.. what was that about?"
You sigh, flashes from the night before coming back to haunt you. "We.. uh.." you start, but words can't really explain what went down in this apartment yesterday. "We kissed, and had sex.. and, uh.. he might've said he likes me.." you whisper, like it was a crime.
"WHAT?!" Emily jumps from the chair, startled. "Y/N.. Oh my God.." she gets closer to you, getting on her knees in front of you. "How was that? And, most importantly, how's that gonna work now?" she states, as if something had changed overnight.
"What do you mean?" you furrow your eyebrows, confused.
"Well, you know he's been drafted to the NFL, don't you?" she says as if it was something everyone knew, incluiding you.
You felt your heart sink.
So it was a prank, after all. The worst one he could ever pull on you.
He left, and he wasn't coming back.
You knew he meant every word he had said last night, but he also had really left. Joe had confessed his love to you the night before just to leave in the morning, leaving you mercilessly stranded.
You don't say anything, because how could you find the words to? Emily immediately understands and hugs you, but the only embrace you could possibly want at the time was miles away now.
You were surprised at his ability to pretend like nothing had happened, like the last few years hadn't been torture to you, wondering where did it go wrong. Years of blaming yourself, of recalling the night over and over and-
"No need to be ashamed, Y/N." he chuckles, the sound of it filling the quiet room.
"I'm not ashamed." you lie. Letting him see through you was the last thing you needed today. "Just thought nobody knew."
"Well, if it helps, I'm the only one who does." he finally sits on the ground, back glued to the wall where the window was. A beat, and then he was back with the personal questionnaire. "How are you?"
"I should be the one asking that question. Huge team, getting all the girls, abnormal paycheck.. Superbowl." your words dripping with disgust as you stare out the window, hoping for something, anything, anyone, a divine intervention to get you out of there.
"I don't really get that many girls," he says as he stares at you. One of the things about him that bothered you so much was his courage. You could never, ever, not a million years, bring yourself to stare at him the way he'd do to you. It was intimidating, raw, and worst of all, familiar. He'd always do this when the two of you fought in high school, that's how he'd always win the arguments, not by words, by having the courage to look you in the face and leaving you feeling vulnerable and naked under his gaze. That's also the same way he stared at you that night, after saying all those nice words that made you melt under his touch.
"Mhm.." You nod, not knowing what to say.
"Aren't you going to answer me?" he questions, again.
"I'm fine, finishing my doctorate now."
You don't know why you told him that, but it felt right.
He lets out a breath, "Fuck, Y/N.. That's huge." he congratulates you, and although he couldn't see it due to the poor lighting, it makes you blush. You had never seen it as that big of a deal, it was just the thirst for knowledge you always had, but it was nice knowing someone Joe thought about it as something nice.
"Thank you"
"Thank you coming today," he finally says, awkwardly, as he gets up, grabbing his cup as he does so. "tell your folks I said hi."
"Will do."
He opens the door and gets lost in the crowd, leaving quietly and sneakily like he did that night, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.
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request for sal fisher x reader!! so idea one, coffee shop au, sal works at reader's fave coffee shop and they fall in lovee. or second ideaa reader is popular cheerleader who developes a crush on sal.
YEESSSSSSS FINALLYYYYYYY MY FIRST SALLY FACE REQUEST! I’m stoked rn 😆 I’m so in love with Sal, it’s not normal ✨ I’m obsessed with the barista x regular, daily customer trope, fuck yeah! Too cute! Enjoy~
TW: none really, just very fluffy and silly
Notes: Posted recently about how I wanted to write more fics where reader has a stutter bc I have a stutter so reader stutters in this fic 🥹 ah my heart is so full. Also, trying to write out how I stutter is very difficult…
UPDATE: part 2 is in the works!
Sal x reader- Coffee Shop AU ☕️💙
Coffee is a must. Coffee is a necessity. You just can’t function without it. So, of course that’s your first stop of the day every morning before you get started with your day. It’s worth getting up 30 minutes earlier just to sit and enjoy some caffeine and maybe a little snack while listening to music, checking emails, staring out the window, same old same old. It was a very repetitive start to your day…and you’re not sure if you like that or not. It is kind of nice to have a set routine every day and know what to expect each morning but…it’s quickly growing old. Maybe you should change up your drink order? Maybe sit in a different spot? Maybe both? We’ll see.
As you open the double doors of the coffee shop and step inside, warm air rushes up to you as does the smell of coffee, sweet syrups and savory pastries. Normally, you walk straight up to the counter, knowing exactly what you want. Depending on who takes your order, they even sometimes know your usual drink and know you by name. But today, you’re gonna change it up, remember? So let’s take a look at the drink menu, let’s look at the other food options too.
“Hey, (Y/N)! Morning! Just give me sec. I’ll be right with you.” A familiar voice calls out to you, a worker who you interact with often. He was nice, patient and polite. “Okay!” You stood up at the register now, patiently waiting as you tried to recite your new order in your head, making sure you get it all out correctly. Your phone buzzes, catching your attention for a split second. You glance down to check your notifications just as you hear that same familiar voice call out, “Sal! Sorry, dude. I’m trying to fix this faucet. Can you get that customer-“ And before the barista could continue, a deeper voice interrupted. “Yeah, I gotchu. No worries.”
As soon as this new barista was face to face with you, all thoughts of coffee went out the window. Wow. Geez. This is a lot to take in at once. His voice is…so nice. He’s got really cool hair. Is he…wearing a mask? Your eyes fell to his hands, his big hands with nails painted a deep blue color. Then you looked back to his face. His mask? His…face???
“Uh…you ready to order?” He speaks up, making you nearly gasp. “Y-yes, I’m sorry. Uh…can I get the w-….“ Just breathe. “Sorry, the w-w-“ The long pauses between your stuttering make him reach up and touch his cheek before softly mumbling, “It’s okay. It’s a prosthetic…if that’s what’s tripping you up.” He gestures to his face and now you’re blushing furiously, mostly because you’re embarrassed and a bit ashamed for staring but also holy shit, his voice is so nice.
“No, no! I’m sorry, I’m-m-“ And your confidence is slipping away every second you stand here, pathetically crumbling apart in front of this amazingly overwhelming stranger.
“Are you n-new?” You’re almost shouting now, unable to control your nerves. He nods, his blue hair shifting along with his movements. “I thought so. I mean, you’re doing great! I’ve just never seen you…before.” You notice his eyes squint, making you smile a bit. “Yeah, just started a couple days ago. I worked at a few different coffee shops before this so I kinda know the ropes. But, yeah this place is cool.” You nod along, nervously tapping your fingers on the counter. “Do you…usually work mornings?” You inquire, knowing that’s when you usually visit the shop. “Uh-huh” He nods again, leaning against the counter that separates you two. “Cool. Cool. Cool. Awesome. Then I’ll be seeing you often. I come in the m-m…early.” The way you cope with being stuck on a word, just using a synonym that is easier to say, earns a soft laugh from him, making your knees buckle under you because what a fucking cutie he is. Face or no face, doesn’t matter because everything else about him is so charming.
“So, uh…your order?” He pushes off the counter and looks at the computer screen in front of him, waiting for your response. You end up ordering your usual, excluding the food. You’re just too shaken up, too nervous, too excited to focus. Whatever. “And your name?” He finally looks back to you, and now you’re noticing his eyes. He’s got one bright blue eye and one that’s a more grayed out blue color.
“(Y/N).” You finally utter your name, watching as he writes it on your cup. “Cool. I’ll have it right up over there for you.” He points at the other end of the counter before walking off with your cup. Now, normally you’d go sit at the table in the corner near the big window but today, you just had to sit closer to where all the action took place. You were so intrigued by him, what a strange boy, not like anyone you’ve ever met before. You didn’t even know his name. Damn, you should’ve got his name…
“(Y/N)!” The same boy clouding up your mind calls out your name as he sets a cup down on the counter, staying in his spot as you shakily approach him. As you grab your cup, your eyes frantically search his shirt and apron for a name tag but there wasn’t one. “Have a good one.” As he turns, you panic and just blurt it out. “Whats your name?” And now your voice has him spinning on his heels, his hands quickly get shoved into his apron pockets. “Sal. Some people call me Sally.” And all you can do is stare again.
Sal. That’s nice~
“Thanks, Sal. I’ll see you tomorrow then, maybe?” “Yeah, same time, same place.” They eye contact lingers for just a moment and now it feels nearly impossible not to squeeze the cup in your hand and crush it completely, he’s just really getting to you right now. “Okay, cool. Have a good one.” As your voice begins to crack and betray you even further, you turn and book it out of there.
What a nice change in pace, though. Finally, something new, something different, something to look forward to. Someone to look forward to.
The next morning, you can’t wait to see him again. You want to know more about him, you need to hear his voice some more and, you must confess, you’re just dying to know more about his prosthetic and what’s underneath. Not that you’d ever rush him or pressure him into telling or showing you. But maybe you could casually mention it, test the waters…
“Morning, Sal!” You shout as you enter, heading right up to your new favorite morning person who’s already standing at the register waiting for you. “Good morning. The usual? Or are you switching it up today?” You could tell he was smiling under the prosthetic just by the way he spoke. “The usual, please.” He gets to work writing on the cup then suddenly turns away with it. “H-hey, wait! You didn’t charge me-“ “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, it’s on me today.”
You’re a bit taken aback. “What? Why?” You ask with a small smile, watching as he shrugs. “You’re just really nice to me. I appreciate it.” And he’s off to work on your drink before the conversation can continue. You’re gonna have to literally cover your face with your hands to hide your sappy, goofy, love struck expression from him.
You sit at a table close to the bar where Sal is currently grinding up fresh espresso. Everything about him is so nice to look at- the way his arms move and flex as he works, the way he carefully tips his head to the side and wipes it against his sleeve to remove any sweat, the way he focuses as he pours your drink right to the top of the cup.
Soon after, he leans across the counter to set your drink down, his eyes watching as you saunter up quickly. “Thanks, Sal.” Is all you have the courage to say right now but Sal is starting to feel the connection too. He wants to know more about you too, wants to know why you seem so shy and flustered around him, why you’re so nice and polite to him when so many other customers treat him like a freak.
“Can I…sit with you for a bit? I’m about to go on a break.” Sal’s smiling so big under his mask at the stunned expression you’re wearing right now. “Of course! Sure!” Sal follows behind you as you walk to your usual table in the corner, slowly removing his apron. You both sit quietly for a moment.
“So, are m-most the customer not very nice to you? I mean, you said I’m nice to you but I figured I was just being as decent as most people.” Your voice has him stiffening up in his seat. “Yeah, I guess most people don’t take too kindly to blue haired, masked guys who are in charge of making their food and drinks.” “I thought it was a prosthetic?” “It is.” “Right.”
A short period of silence again. “So…what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” He figured that question was coming soon but he didn’t think it would be this soon. Sal strangely feels comfortable with you though, like he’s known you for much longer than a day so he decides to take a chance on you, see how you respond.
“I was attacked by a dog. Well, that’s the easy version of the story.” With a nod and a consoling smile, you think it’s best to leave it at that and change the topic but Sal just keeps going. “I was uh…I actually…” But the words won’t come out, he can’t bring himself to say it. How does one casually mention they were shot in the face?
“Hey, I’m sorry I asked. Let’s just forget it.” A reassuring smile graces your lips as you watch him look down at his own lap. “I think more people have actually seen my face than heard the story of what happened to it.” “That’s okay. I won’t ask again, promise. And…I’m sorry about whatever you had to go through.”
Your sweet words of reassurance and comfort send his heart into an abnormal rhythm as his mouth suddenly goes dry. Why are you so fucking nice? He can’t handle how sweet and kind and nice and considerate and adorable you are. He’s like 99% sure you’re just really really nice but not into him romantically, and he’s 110% sure you’re waayyyy out of his league. He might as well give up now.
Most mornings, you saw Sal at work, sometimes you didn’t. The more you two interact, the more relaxed you find yourself becoming around him. But even then, you can’t help but feel like maybe you are just romanticizing these interactions. Sure, he’s nice but he’s at work, he kinda has to be. Yeah, he talks to you for a bit at the register but that’s kinda part of the job. Maybe you’re in over your head.
Regardless, you enter the store once again, smiling uncontrollably when you catch a glimpse of his blue hair as he rushes behind the counter. As the bell of the front door chimes, Sal’s head pops up as he looks over. “Morning, (Y/N). How are you?” He continues emptying the trash can in front of him as he looks back and forth between you and the task at hand. “I’m good. How are you, Sally?” A deep sigh leaves him as he lifts the crammed trash bag out of the bin. “Busy. Short staffed. Ready to go home.” All you can offer him is a pouty bottom lip and a hum of sympathy as you near the register. “Aww. I’m sorry. I’ll make it easy for you, okay? I’ll take my usual, here’s the cash for whenever you’re ready and keep the change. Take your time, too! I’m in no rush.” You slide your money across the counter towards him.
And at that, you go to your usual spot in the corner near the window, staring outside as you daydream. Not too long later, you’re startled by Sal setting your drink on the table in front of you. “Oh! Thank you. That was nice, you didn’t have to bring it all the way over here.” You look up at him and notice a change in his body language- he can be hard to read due to his deadpan prosthetic so you’ve learned to examine his body language and tone of voice as indicators of his mood. He’s not looking at you, instead looking out the window past you, he looks like he’s more closed in on himself, more unsure of himself. Weird…
“You okay, Sal-“ “I’m going on break! See ya later.” He zips off to the break room before you can get another word in. Geez, maybe he’s just having a really bad day. Maybe he just wants to be left alone. So, you decide to cut your stay short and get going. As you stand and reach out for your cup, you notice he had brought you a napkin too. Being the good person you are, you reach to grab it and take it to the trash but then you notice…Oh god…oh. my. god. No way. He wrote his NUMBER ON THE NAPKIN AND HOLY SHIT YOU MIGHT COLLAPSE DIE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW.
You can’t help but glance up and towards the break room where Sal had just run off to, seeing him and his other coworker both peeking around the corner to see your reaction. With cheeks as red as pomegranate and a smile so big it hurts, you exaggeratedly stuff the napkin in your pocket before giving him a wave. “See you tomorrow, Sally~”
Don’t worry, as you walk out of the shop and start giggling wildly with your heart beating a million miles an hour, Sal is sliding down the wall in the break room as he clenches his shirt in his hand, literal heart eyes for you right now.
You haven’t even seen his face but you accepted his number? Shiiitttt…he’s got it baddddd for you.
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