is it real? - f. minten x reader (requested)
praise kink blurb - j. woll x reader (requested)
cinderella ring blurb - j.woll x reader
missing you - j. woll x reader (requested)
drunken love - j. woll x reader (requested)
i know places - j.woll x marner!reader (requested)
thank you all so much for all the attention my blog has gotten recently. i know i have been so bad at writing and uploading my writing right now. school and seasonal depression are taking over my life. i appreciate the continued support. i love you all <333
hey az congrats on 100 followers i love you and your blog sm !! 💋💋💋
can i have a pop record for joseph woll pretty please? thanks baby xoxo
Actually Invested | Joseph Woll x fem!reader
♫ pairing: joseph woll x reader
♫ content: fluff, relationship anxiety
♫ word count: 2.5k
♫ inspired by risk by gracie abrams
The first time Y/N saw him, she didn’t recognize him the way everyone else did.
It wasn’t the jersey, or the headlines, or the way the air seemed to tighten when he walked into a room. It was just a man standing slightly off to the side of a too-bright lobby, tugging at the cuff of his coat like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands. Like he didn’t quite belong there either.
Y/N noticed that first. The almost-apologetic posture. The quiet.
She told herself it meant nothing.
Now, months later, she stood in the narrow hallway outside the media elevator, pressing her phone screen dark with her thumb, willing her heartbeat to slow down. The arena hummed around her, with voices overlapping, skates scraping faintly through concrete walls, the distant echo of laughter. She had crossed paths with him enough times now that it no longer felt accidental. Not fate, exactly. But not nothing.
She heard his voice before she saw him.
“-no, yeah, I’ll call you after. Okay. Yeah.”
It was low, distracted, familiar in a way that made her chest tighten before her brain could catch up. Y/N looked up.
Joseph Woll stood a few feet away, phone still in his hand, shoulders slightly hunched as if he were trying not to take up space. He wore a dark hoodie, the hood down, hair still damp like he’d rushed out before it dried. He looked tired. Not in a dramatic way, just human, like sleep had been optional lately.
He glanced up and met her eyes.
There it was again. That flicker of recognition. Not loud, not confident. Just real.
“Oh, hey,” he said, shifting his weight. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Y/N replied, too quickly, then softer, like she was correcting herself. “Hey.”
There was a pause. Not awkward exactly, but fragile. Like either of them might break it wrong if they moved too fast.
Joseph gestured vaguely toward the elevator panel. “You, uh. You waiting on this one?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, yes. I am.”
He smiled at that. Not wide. Just enough to count.
“Cool. Same.”
They stood there, side by side but not touching, the space between them charged with things neither of them named. Y/N became acutely aware of her breathing, of the way her hands curled into the sleeves of her sweater, of how if she turned her head even slightly she’d be staring at his mouth.
She didn’t. She stared straight ahead.
“You’ve been around more lately,” he said, after a moment. His voice carried the weight of someone testing a thought out loud.
Y/N swallowed. “Yeah. Work stuff. Timing, I guess.”
“Right,” he nodded. “Makes sense.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
She risked a glance. He was looking at the floor, jaw tense like he was deciding something.
“You always look like you’re thinking really hard,” he added, almost shyly. “Like you’re running simulations.”
That startled a laugh out of her before she could stop it. “Oh. God. That’s unfortunate.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean- I mean, not bad. Just… focused.”
Y/N smiled, warmth blooming despite herself. “I do overthink. Everything. It’s kind of my thing.”
He nodded, like that confirmed something. “Yeah. I can tell.”
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open.
They both hesitated, then stepped inside at the same time, shoulders brushing just barely. The contact was brief, accidental, but Y/N felt it everywhere. She stiffened, then forced herself to relax, leaning back against the wall as the doors closed.
Silence again. Smaller now. Intimate.
Joseph cleared his throat. “So, uh. How’ve you been?”
She laughed softly, shaking her head. “Isn’t that the biggest question you could’ve asked?”
He smiled, crooked and self-aware. “Yeah. Sorry. Default setting.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m… good. Busy. Tired in a way that feels earned.”
“That’s a good kind,” he said.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “What about you?”
He exhaled through his nose, a quiet huff. “Busy. Tired in a way that feels… loud.”
She looked at him then, really looked. The careful way he chose his words. The honesty tucked inside restraint.
“That sounds like a lot,” she said gently.
He shrugged. “It’s fine. I mean, it is what it is.”
The elevator slowed. The numbers lit up, one by one.
Y/N felt something dangerous settle in her chest. Not hope. Something sharper. Curiosity. Want.
“Well,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it, “if you ever need quiet-”
She stopped. Her courage faltered, balanced on a thin wire.
He turned to her, attentive. Waiting.
She finished anyway. “-I’m apparently very good at staring at walls and overthinking in silence.”
He laughed. Really laughed this time. The sound surprised both of them.
“I might take you up on that,” he said.
The elevator doors opened.
They stepped out together, then paused, caught in that strange in-between where neither wanted to be the first to walk away.
“Um,” Y/N said, heart pounding. “I’ll-see you around.”
“Yeah,” Joseph replied. “I hope so.”
They parted, footsteps moving in opposite directions.
Y/N didn’t look back. She didn’t have to.
She already knew.
That night, she lay awake with the light on, staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every almost. His voice lingered in her head like a song she wasn’t supposed to know all the lyrics to yet.
It could be bad.
It could be everything.
God, she thought, turning onto her side, heart wide open and terrified-
I’m actually invested.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
Y/N told herself she wouldn’t replay it again.
She told herself that while brushing her teeth, mint stinging her tongue, eyes unfocused on her own reflection. She told herself that while folding laundry she didn’t need to fold yet, while setting three alarms she wouldn’t need, while lying on her back in the dark with her phone face-down on her chest like it might burn her if she looked at it.
She replayed it anyway.
The way he’d said I hope so. The way it hadn’t sounded like politeness. The way his smile had lingered half a second longer than necessary, like he didn’t know how to disengage either.
Y/N turned onto her side, staring at the faint glow of the city through her blinds.
“This is stupid,” she whispered to no one. “You don’t even-”
She stopped herself.
You don’t even know him, she’d almost said. But that wasn’t true, not entirely. She knew the quiet. She knew the restraint. She knew the look of someone carrying more than they let on.
And maybe that was the problem.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
They crossed paths again three days later.
Y/N was balancing a coffee she didn’t want and a folder she definitely needed when she nearly walked straight into him outside the practice facility. She caught herself just in time, stepping back with a sharp inhale.
“Oh-sorry,” she said automatically.
Joseph froze like he hadn’t expected her to be real.
“Hey,” he said, then blinked. “Hi. Wow. Okay. Good reflexes.”
She smiled despite herself. “Years of walking into doors.”
“Impressive skill set,” he deadpanned.
She laughed, softer this time, the sound settling easily between them. It felt… easier. Less fragile than the elevator. Like something had already been acknowledged, even if it hadn’t been named.
He glanced at the cup in her hand. “That for you?”
“Unfortunately,” she said. “I ordered it out of habit. I don’t even like it.”
“Why drink it then?”
She shrugged. “Sunk cost fallacy.”
He raised his eyebrows, impressed. “Bold of you to bring economics into this.”
Y/N tilted her head. “Into what?”
He paused, then smiled like he’d caught himself stepping too close to something honest. “Into… coffee regret.”
They stood there, the cold air biting at Y/N’s cheeks, the building looming behind them. She realized neither of them was moving on purpose.
Joseph shifted, rubbing his hands together. “Listen-uh. This might be weird. You can absolutely say no.”
Her heart jumped, sharp and immediate.
“Okay,” she said, steadying herself.
He took a breath. “Do you wanna, maybe, walk? Like. Just around the block. I’ve got a few minutes.”
Y/N stared at him.
Not because she didn’t know the answer.
Because she did.
“Yeah,” she said. “I’d like that.”
They fell into step beside each other, shoes crunching softly against the pavement. The city felt louder now, like it had noticed them.
“So,” Joseph said, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. “You always this brave?”
She snorted. “Absolutely not. I’m usually panicking internally.”
He glanced at her. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Full monologue. Worst-case scenarios. Entire conversations that never happen.”
His mouth curved into something thoughtful. “Huh.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. Just, same.”
That surprised her. “You?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I overthink everything I say. Half the time I leave a room and immediately regret… all of it.”
Y/N smiled at the sidewalk. “That’s comforting, actually.”
“Glad I could help,” he said dryly.
They walked in silence for a few beats, comfortable now, the kind that didn’t demand filling.
Joseph broke it first. “You ever get the feeling that you’re… already too deep in something before it technically starts?”
Her chest tightened.
“All the time,” she said quietly. “It’s like, your brain builds a whole world, and you’re just… living in it alone.”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
They stopped at the corner. The light glowed red, holding them there.
Joseph turned to her, suddenly serious. “I’m not great at this,” he said. “Whatever this is.”
Y/N met his eyes. “Me neither.”
Another pause. Charged. Careful.
“But,” he continued, “I’d like to try. If that’s… okay.”
Her breath caught. She felt it then, clear and terrifying and undeniable.
The risk.
Y/N smiled, small but sure. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I’d like that too.”
The light changed.
They didn’t move right away.
And Y/N knew, standing there, heart wide open, already imagining things she had no right to, that this was the moment it stopped being hypothetical.
☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆
That night, it doesn’t feel cinematic at first.
There’s no dramatic weather, no perfectly timed music swelling in the background. It’s just a Tuesday, the kind that smells like rain but never commits, the kind that leaves the city washed in dull silver light. Y/N stands in her bedroom with her phone in her hand, the screen glowing against her palm, heart beating so hard it feels like it might bruise her from the inside.
She reads the message again.
Jo 🫐: I’m heading home. Long day. You okay?
It’s ordinary. That’s the problem.
Ordinary means she could let it pass. Ordinary means she could reply with something safe, something careful, something that doesn’t tip her hand.
She sits on the edge of her bed instead, knees bouncing, brain screaming.
Too soon.
You’ll ruin it.
You don’t even know where this is going.
Y/N exhales, shaky.
“God,” she mutters, pressing the heel of her hand to her chest. “You’re already here. You might as well show up.”
She types before she can think herself out of it.
Y/N: Do you want to come over?
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Her breath catches. She stares at the screen like it might explode.
Jo 🫐: Yeah. I do.
She doesn’t sit down after that. She paces. She straightens pillows that don’t need straightening. She checks the mirror and immediately regrets it, then checks again anyway. Her hands shake as she twists her hair into something intentionally casual and fails.
When the knock comes, it’s soft. Hesitant.
Y/N freezes for half a second, then crosses the apartment and opens the door.
Joseph stands there with his hands in his pockets, jacket zipped halfway, hair slightly windblown like he ran his fingers through it on the way up. He looks tired. He looks real. He looks at her like she’s something fragile and wanted at the same time.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” she replies.
They just stand there for a beat, the doorway humming with everything unsaid.
“Do you want-” she starts.
“Yeah,” he says at the same time.
They laugh, nervous and quiet.
She steps aside. “Come in.”
The door clicks shut behind him, and suddenly he’s here. In her space. Breathing her air. Y/N becomes acutely aware of how close he is, how easy it would be to reach out and how terrifying that feels.
They hover near the couch, neither of them sitting.
Joseph rubs the back of his neck. “I almost didn’t come.”
Her heart dips. “Oh.”
“Not because I didn’t want to,” he says quickly. “Because I did. Too much. I just-” He exhales. “I didn’t want to mess this up.”
Y/N swallows. “I think we might already be past that point.”
He looks at her then, really looks. “Yeah?”
She nods, voice quiet but steady. “I think I’ve been past it for a while.”
Silence stretches. Heavy. Honest.
Joseph takes a step closer. Not touching. Asking without words.
“Y/N,” he says, low. “I need to be clear. I don’t want to guess wrong.”
Her pulse roars in her ears.
“I keep thinking about you,” she says, the words tumbling out now, fragile and brave and terrifying. “At night. In the middle of the day. I imagine conversations we haven’t had, moments we haven’t earned. I know that’s dangerous. I know it’s a risk.”
He doesn’t interrupt. His eyes don’t leave her face.
“I’m scared,” she continues. “But I’m more scared of pretending I don’t feel this.”
She laughs softly, almost breathless. “God, I’m actually invested. And I hate how much I don’t hate it.”
Joseph steps closer again. This time, she doesn’t move away.
Her breath catches. “You don’t feel like this is too much?”
He shakes his head. “No. It feels like something I don’t want to miss.”
The space between them is gone now. Not touching yet. Close enough to feel the warmth of him, the steadiness.
Y/N’s voice trembles. “This could hurt.”
“I know,” he says.
She looks up at him, eyes shining. “You could walk away tomorrow.”
“So could you.”
She nods. “I don’t want to.”
Neither does he.
The decision lands in her chest like a held breath finally released.
Y/N reaches for him.
Her hand grips the front of his jacket, grounding herself in the reality of him, solid, here, not just in her head. Joseph stills, then lifts his hand to her waist like he’s afraid to rush, afraid to scare her.
“Okay?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” she says. “Please.”
Their foreheads rest together first. A pause. A choice.
Then she closes the distance.
The kiss is slow, careful, full of restraint breaking at the edges. It’s not fireworks, it’s gravity. It’s relief. It’s the quiet certainty of something begun with open eyes.
When they pull back, Y/N laughs softly, breathless, forehead still against his.
“Well,” she says, voice shaking. “I did it.”
Joseph smiles, warm and real. “You took the risk.”
She nods, heart full and terrifyingly alive. “Yeah.”
And for the first time, the fear doesn’t outweigh the want.
For the first time, she doesn’t wonder what might’ve happened if she’d been braver.
