Synopsis: Joe gets excited when he sees his favorite flight attendant on his way to Greece and wastes no time in telling her exactly what he wants before the wheels touch the ground
Pairing: Joe Burrow x Flight Attendant!Reader
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Joe saw you as soon as he boarded the plane, immediately making his heart rate increase.
That didn't happen often.
But with you, it was always different.
Any time he had a flight that would take longer than a few hours, he booked this particular company knowing that nine times out of ten you were going to be there.
You were all smiles as you made eye contact with him before leading him to his private suite.
“Mr. Burrow, it's good to see you again.”
“You too.” Joe replied as he licked his lips before a small smirk appeared on his face.
He couldn't wait until he told the group chat.
“Follow me and I'll show you to your suite.” You told him as he nodded his head.
Walking a few steps in front of him, he took in the sight of you and once again, just like any other time, became mesmerized as he watched your hips move from side to side as you glided across the floor with elegance and grace.
You, on the other hand, felt as if he was burning a hole through the back of you with his gaze.
This wasn't anything new and happened each and every time you saw him, but of course nothing came out of it.
There was a time and place for everything and giving a NFL football player your undivided attention while on the clock wasn't your main priority.
As much as you wanted it to be.
Or was it?
“And here we are.” You announced as you pointed to the entrance where his room was.
“Thank you.” Joe replied as he followed you inside.
The suite included an entire bedroom, a living room area, as well as a private bathroom. Mini fridge stocked with his favorite snacks and drinks, which you had taken note of, and a white bath robe along with toiletries.
“Of course. I already stocked the room with your favorites, but please let me know if there's anything else I can do for you. We'll be taking dinner orders in about 45 minutes so you have some time to decide what you want.”
“Perfect. I'll let you know.” He quietly said while setting his suitcase down in the corner.
“If you do, press this button right over here. If you need me sooner, of course let me know but I'll be back to get that order so you can get settled.”
Giving you a small smile and nodding his head, you smiled in return before leaving his suite and closing the door behind you. As soon as Joe was in the clear, he whipped out his phone to text Tee and Ja'Marr.
Shiesty- My favorite flight attendant is here 😌
Uno- That pretty ass black girl!?
Shiesty- And I specifically asked just for her to be my stewardess for the entire flight
Tee- Ain't this like your seventh flight with her? Yall ain't fuck yet?
Uno- Because his ass cannot pull her! He needs to hand her over to me
Shiesty- You sure about that, Ja'Marr?
Uno- I'll believe it when I see it. Ain't no way your ass can handle all that
Shiesty- Okay, remember you said that
Uno- 🙄🙄
Tee- Let's make a bet. 500 dollars says you can't pull her
Shiesty- Then I'm about to become 1000 dollars richer
As you walked to the front of the plane, your team lead, Iyana, pulled you aside.
“So….”
“What's wrong?”
“Mr. Burrow asked for you to be his personal stewardess. All night.” She replied.
“Oh, um…” You started to say, but trailed off as you were taken aback.
“It makes sense seeing as it's usually always you when he flies with us. Oh, and he left a nice little tip for you too.”
“How nice?”
“Give or take a few thousand so you better be on your best game all night. Not that I have to worry about that, but I still need to tell you.”
“Will do.”
As soon as the other three passengers boarded and were settled in their suites, the plane had been cleared to take off as all of you sat down and placed your seat belts on.
When the plane was finally at cruising altitude, you got back up to check and see what Joe wanted to order for dinner.
You briefly knocked before hearing his voice telling you to come in and once you did, you saw him watching what looked to be a documentary on the television in front of him.
“Hey, did you decide what you wanted for dinner yet?” You politely asked and it looked like he was thinking hard about his answer.
You. You're what I want for dinner.
Was the only thought running through Joe's head, but he quickly composed himself before he answered you.
“Uh, yeah. Could I get the lamb chops with….”
“Mashed potatoes and asparagus and a glass of chardonnay. Of course you can.”
“Well damn, I knew I made the right decision when I requested to have you tonight.”
“Don't you think I know you by now?” You asked as you winked at him before beginning to walk away.
“Actually, Y/N, can you do me a favor?”
“If I can make it happen for you, of course.”
“Can you bring me the entire bottle?”
“Anything for my favorite guest.” You replied as you went to put in his order and grab the bottle that he had requested.
As soon as you left the room, Joe shorts instantly grew tighter and the only thing he could think of was wanting to rip your tights away from your body and have his way with you.
However, when he honestly thought about it, would that ever become a reality? Sure, he's a famous quarterback and could use it to his advantage when he wanted, but when it came to you, it was just different.
Yes, there was no secret that he was indeed attracted to you, but had no idea if those feelings were reciprocated since it wasn't like you gave him any type of sign.
Joe quickly decided, if an opportunity rose tonight for him to have his way with you, he was taking it. But for now, his lips slightly parted as his right hand made it into his shorts and slowly began to stroke himself.
Pre cum leaked from the tip as he used it as lube as he sped up his pace.
He needed to finish before you made another appearance.
His mind instantly went to the curve of your hips, your full breasts and the way ‘Mr. Burrow’ rolled off of your tongue every time you spoke to him.
He wanted you whimpering underneath him as you took him inch by inch.
He wanted for you to ride his face until you squirted your sweet juices into his mouth.
He wanted you in every position imaginable in every room of this suite as he made sure that you wouldn't be able to walk straight for an entire week.
Your name escaped his lips as it rolled off of his tongue as he was sure enough about to explode.
Fucking you until you begged for mercy was going to happen before this night was over.
He needed you and just hoped that you needed him just as much.
As soon as he felt that he was on the edge of exploding, he heard a knock and your soft voice. Not bothering to answer at first because he was so focused on his current task, ropes of cum shot out on the shorts that he was wearing and he grabbed the nearest blanket to cover himself up as he told you to come in.
Opening the door and walking in, you noticed that his cheeks were flushed and your mind instantly wondered what could possibly have him so flustered.
And only one conclusion came to mind.
Was he just jacking off?
If he was, you wish you could have watched
The wetness between your thighs grew every time you looked at him
“Got that chardonnay for you.” You told him as you placed the bottle that was in a bucket of ice to the side of him, while also handing him a glass.
“You only brought one glass?” He asked and you looked at him confused.
“Why would I have to bring two, Mr. Burrow when it's just you in here?”
“So you can have a drink with me later.”
“I….” You started to say as you shook your head.
“Come on just one glass when things slow down tonight. You said that you would do anything for your favorite guest right?” Joe asked, which led you to have a small smile on your face.
“Just one?”
“Just one.”
“I think I can make an exception. Do you need me to do anything else? And I mean anything?” You asked as you placed your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to his dick.
Joe felt himself twitch from the sound of your voice and wouldn't be surprised if he just came from hearing it.
“I'm.. I'm good for now.” He answered you as he tried to compose himself.
“Perfect, but if that changes, you'll let me know right?”
“You'll be the first person I tell.”
“Hmm, your dinner should be ready in thirty if you… wanted to take a shower. Everything is in the bathroom waiting for you.”
“I might take you up on that.”
–
It was nearing one in the morning and the flight had been in the air for a little over four hours. As promised, you made your way back over to Joe's suite hoping that he was still awake.
When the door opened, you were met with him being in the robe that you had laid out for him and he stood to the side to let you move past him.
“Didn't figure that you would still be awake, so I had to come and see for myself.”
“You weren't getting out of the promise you made me earlier that easy.” He told you as he gestured for you to sit down and poured you a glass before handing it to you and pouring himself another one.
“I'm not supposed to be drinking while I'm on the clock though, obviously.”
“Look at this as being your break. Anything for your favorite guest right?”
You slowly started sipping from your glass as Joe came and sat down next to you. You couldn't help but to notice him staring at you from the corner of your eye.
“Thank you for the nice little tip you left me. Very generous of you to do that.”
“Figured you deserved it for all you do. I always have a pleasant experience every time. Small gestures go a long way.”
“Hmm, they do. But I have a question.”
You couldn't wait to see how he was going to get out of this one.
“Ask away.”
“Does that pleasant experience include you jacking off to the thought of me because I know for a fact that was what you were doing earlier so there's no reason to lie.” You asked while taking a sip of your wine and Joe did nothing but smirk.
At this point he wasn’t denying shit.
“I wasn't going to lie to begin with and it does since I obviously can't have you coming completely undone underneath me moaning my name and riding my face until that creamy pussy squirts in my mouth.” He explained and you were at a loss for words.
You had immediately stopped drinking and placed the glass down on the table next to you to compose yourself.
“So this facade of you being shy was a cover up of some sort? Are you always this bold?” You curiously asked as you turned to look at him.
“You thought that I was actually a shy person? And I'm this bold when I see something or in this case someone that I want. I thought you did too unless I'm not reading you right.” He answered as you gave him a small smirk.
“You stutter when you talk to me! So, that's why I thought you were shy.”
“That's because you're gorgeous as hell and I have to catch myself to not say some freaky ass shit.”
“And you're reading me just fine, Burrow. I mean if you want to prove me wrong, you are more than welcome to do it because I still think you are. I think that it's long overdue anyway, but we have to make this quick. Can't have anyone coming to look for me.” You replied as you stood up and immediately got on your knees in front of him.
“And besides, I figured that my mouth will probably feel better than your hand, anyway.”
You didn't give him a chance to respond as you promptly moved the robe from his body in order for you to have full access and immediately took him in your mouth making a moan slip out.
“Your mouth feels good just like I knew it would.” He told you as he gently pushed your head forward.
Joe maintained eye contact with you as you released him from your mouth and your newly manicured nails moved up and down his shaft.
A little bit more precum had leaked out and you wasted no time swirling your tongue along the tip in order to not waste a single drop before you once again placed him fully in your mouth and felt him hit the back of your throat.
“Fuck, just like that. Shiit.”
Even though it was your time to relax and take a break on the plane, you still had to be mindful of how much time you spent here with him.
As much as you wanted to stay in here with him the rest of the night, you knew that it wouldn't be possible.
Luck was on your side when you began to use your mouth along with your hand and could feel Joe tensing up indicating that he was close.
Another telltale sign was him gently pushing the back of your head down in order to take more of him in your mouth.
Not even fifteen seconds later, he erupted in your mouth and you swallowed every last drop as Joe had his eyes closed and his head was resting on the back of the couch.
Knowing that he had to remain somewhat quiet, his low moans were enough for the wetness between your legs to increase and knew that your tights along with your thong were soaked in your juices which you knew Joe couldn't wait to have in his mouth.
You gave him a minute to recover and was slowly stroking him in your right hand as your left leaned behind you in order to take off your shoes and throw them away from you.
“You wouldn't even believe how wet I am for you. Surprised it isn't running down my thighs and it's been that way since I first saw you step on the plane. Do you want to see?” You asked as Joe slowly opened his eyes and nodded his head.
You stood up and attempted to begin to take off your tights when his hands suddenly went around your waist to stop you and hold you steady.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing, just wanted to do this.” He told you as he lifted up your dress and placed kisses all along your stomach before his hands ventured down further to cup your perfectly shaped ass in his hands.
When you thought he was going to take off the tights for you, as he played with the waistband of them, you instead heard one loud rip as your eyes went wide.
“Hope you have another pair wherever those came from.” He quietly said as he ran his fingers along your folds from the outside of your thong before moving it to the side and diving in, tasting you.
“Didn't want to wait any longer. Feels like I waited long enough. Hmm, you taste so sweet but I need the rest of these clothes off.” He told you as he stood up and finished undressing you completely.
Your favorite part had to be when he removed your thong with his teeth.
As you stood bare in front of him, he was admiring you as he cupped your face and reached down to place several kisses on your lips.
His kisses then trailed down your neck and chest before you pushed him away to finally undo his robe completely since he had still been wearing it.
As soon as it hit the floor, your lips were back on each other as he placed his hands on your waist. He only broke the kiss in order to say one thing.
“Jump.”
Listening to directions, his hands went underneath your thighs as he walked the two of you over to the bed. You felt it hit the back of your legs before Joe gently laid you down on it.
As soon as your head hit the pillow, he made himself at home back between your thighs as you felt him take one long lick, making you buck your hips and he let out a small laugh in response.
“You weren't lying about how wet you were for me. Does this happen every time you see me?” He curiously asked before inserting two of his fingers, wasting no time.
“Every time.”
“And what do you do about it? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me, pretty girl?”
“Use my vibrator as soon as we hit solid ground.”
“You think about me touching you? Tasting you? Filing you up and you feeling every inch of me?” Joe whispered and immediately reached up to kiss you before taking one of your nipples in his mouth.
“Mmm, yes.”
“Yes to what?” He asked as he switched sides.
“Yes to all of it.”
“Good girl.”
No reason to lie anymore since you had literally caught him jacking off just a few hours before.
To the very thought of him having you underneath of him.
“Just as I suspected you would.”
As his fingers were still moving in and out of you, his mouth quickly joined in and you knew for a fact that wanting to last long probably wouldn't be an option.
“Oooh fuck, right there. Keep going.” You breathed out as Joe continued to lap at your folds like you were his last meal.
It was taking everything in you to hold back your moans because of how good he was making you feel and obviously needing to remain quiet.
Not that it was needed, but Joe spit at the top of your clit and watched as it ran down your folds to lick it back up making you gasp.
“Quiet up there, baby. Can't have them coming to look for you.”
Joe was taking his slow sweet time in making you feel good and when you least expected it, felt him begin to suck on your clit.
Knowing that a loud moan was more than likely going to erupt, Joe grabbed a pillow to shove in your face as you screamed into it.
You could feel the vibration from his laugh as he continued and then without warning he suddenly pulled away making you pout from the loss of sensation.
“Sit on my face and ride it.” Was all he said as he laid down and you swung your legs on top of him.
When you were in the perfect position, you wasted no time.
You slowly began to ride it as Joe had stuck his tongue all the way out and wrapped his arms around your thighs making you not be able to move a centimeter.
“Fuckkk, your tongue feels so good.”
Now that you didn't have a pillow to cover your face made it ten times harder to remain quiet, which you were already failing.
There wasn't a headboard so the next best thing was to place your hands flat against the wall as you sped up your pace.
You knew you were close and it seemed that Joe knew it too because his hold on you somehow became even tighter, making sure you didn't move.
“Shit, oh my…. Fuck. I'm about to cum all over your face.”
“Then do it.”
That was all you needed to hear before squirting all over Joe's face as he continued to suck and play with your clit.
He barely let you recover before he flipped the two of you over and slowly slid into you while kissing you at the same time, quieting the moan that you would have surely let out.
Joe wasted no time placing one of your legs on his shoulder so he could hit even deeper.
Just as you wanted, you could feel every single inch as he bottomed out.
As the two of you got into a comfortable rhythm, Joe placed kisses all over your face and chest before coming back to your lips.
Your arms tightly wrapped around him and no words could be said out of your mouth because you knew for a fact that the high pitched screams you would let out on the plane would be frowned upon.
“Tell me how good I'm making you feel, baby.” Joe whispered against your lips before kissing them once more.
“So fucking good.”
“Keep those legs spread for me.”
That was the last thing you heard before Joe started pounding into you.
“Open your mouth.”
Once you did, he wasted no time spitting multiple times in your mouth and making you swallow it.
Knowing that time was probably winding down, seeing as it felt like a good amount of time had passed, Joe flipped you over and brought your hips up so that your head was resting in your arms and slid back inside you before you felt a hard slap on your ass.
This was only a little preview and he couldn't wait until he could spend all the time he wanted with you without a time constraint hanging over his head.
“Fuckkkk, fuck baby, keep going. You feel so good.” You managed to say and knew it was only a matter of time.
“I want you to cum all over this dick. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes!”
“Then be my good girl and do it. Cum with me.” He told you as he reached underneath you in order to play with your clit as he continued to pound into you.
It wasn't long until the two of you came undone with Joe sliding out of you and was caught off guard as you turned around, sat up and opened your mouth as he released into it.
When he was finally finished, he leaned down to kiss you and you quickly pulled his body back on top of yours.
After a heated make out session, you broke the kiss as you looked to see what time it was.
“How much longer can I have you for?” Joe curiously asked.
“Well, you did ask for me to be your personal stewardess all night…I'm sure I can give you at least another thirty minutes.”
Just as Joe wanted, the two of you christened every possible room in the suite as you were begging him to fuck you harder.
You probably weren't going to be able to walk properly for a week.
As the last round ended in the king sized bed, just how the first one started. You took a deep breath before you said anything.
“Wake me up in forty-five minutes.” You told him as you glanced at the clock that was on the nightstand.
That would be just enough time for you to get dressed and head back out without anyone suspecting a thing.
Thank goodness you had an extra pair of tights in your bag.
“Forty-five minutes it is.” Joe replied as he kissed you.
It took no time for you to be knocked out on Joe's chest and he was grinning like he had just won the lottery.
Reaching for his phone, he wanted to send a picture of the two of you to the group chat with Ja'Marr and Tee. He made sure your face wasn't shown and snapped it as his chin rested on the top of your head while one of his arms was wrapped around you.
Shiesty- Now, Ja'Marr what did you say earlier? Run me my money
Tee- OH SHIT
Uno- HOW THE FUCK
Shiesty- and put her ass to sleep
Uno- I repeat, HOW!?!
Shiesty- She told me how wet she was for me and it went from there. Might also have to do with the fact she caught me jacking off to her 🤷
Tee- Oh so yall both nasty as fuck?
Uno- Aye ask Y/N if she down for a threesome
Shiesty- Nah, she good
Uno- Don't be stingy, shiesty and share with your best friend
Shiesty- No, because if your dick touches mine during it somebody gotta die and it won’t be me or her
Tee- 😭😭😭
Uno- 🙄🙄🙄
Shiesty- See yall back in Cincy 😜
Uno: She staying with you while you outta town?
Shiesty- idk I’ll ask when she wakes up
Tee- tf you do to put her to sleep like that?
Shiesty- Wore her ass out obviously
It was now around five in the morning as the plane finally landed and the only thing you could think of was being under or on top of Joe again.
Crossing your legs for the remainder of the flight hadn't done you any good as you sat up front with the rest of the crew.
Damn you, Burrow.
There was no surprise as he was the last guest left and as he walked up to you, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“Meet me at the hotel as soon as you're finished here so we can finish what we started. I already put it in your phone while you were sleeping. I'll leave a room key for you at the desk. Your thong is in my bag by the way if you were looking for it.” He told you and placed a small kiss on the shell of your ear, making sure no one saw.
“Of course, Mr. Burrow.” You replied as you winked at him, which in turn resulted in a small smirk on his face.
As Joe descended from the plane the only thought going through his mind was, mile high club for the win.
michigan!colston x fwb!reader ─── late night drives with colston (fluff).
lia interrupting finally finished one of my million drafts, everybody clap! #idkwtfthisis #justsomethingsweetforthefuckingkids
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Several half-assed case briefings stare at you from your laptop screen, begging for attention you refuse to give. Somewhere between Craig v. Boren and U.S. v. Virginia, you accepted that you don’t actually care to get any work done — simply not built to focus on Friday nights. And it doesn’t help that Colston’s taking full advantage of you finally texting back after a near week of radio silence.
11:47 p.m. Can I see you right now?
Your jaw goes slack as you scoff, rereading his text like the words will suddenly morph into something else.
11:49 p.m. Why the hell are you talking like that
Typing bubbles appear immediately.
11:49 p.m. Damn My bad for asking Strong ass attitude
The mock offense he loves to abuse around you rings loud in your ears. Enough to quell the mild disturbance he’s caused with amusement.
11:50 p.m. Don’t ask me stupid shit then
Instead of responding through text, his contact takes over your entire screen. Faint vibrations echo around the room as you glance at your laptop, pretending to care for all of two seconds before ultimately answering. You squish the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you shut the lid and place it onto your nightstand. The loss of light forces you to blink to adjust.
“Are you busy?” he rasps out, either genuinely tired or purposely trying to fuck your night up.
Regardless of his intentions, it is fucking your night up.
The sheets whistle as you roll onto your stomach and put him on speaker. “That’s more like it.”
Static stretches thin over the line. With each second that passes, you imagine his mouth pressing down as he fights to stay silent. He sighs, and you can vaguely make out his fingers drumming along a solid object.
“Okay, you’re dragging it,” you groan.
“Just letting you know what it feels like to deal with you," he grumbles. Before you can argue back, he tells you, “I’m, like, five minutes away.”
Every muscle in your face fights the urge to smile.
“Why are you five minutes away?”
“‘Cause I’m five minutes away.”
“What if I’m busy?”
“Well, are you?” Your silence is all the answer he needs. “Always tryna make life difficult,” he mutters, the engine humming low in the background.
“Talking like that to the one who has to let you in, by the way,” you remind him, already moving to turn your lamp on.
Soft light fills the room, and slowly — almost begrudgingly — you make your way out of bed. It’s strangely sticky for May in Ann Arbor tonight. The night air wafting into your room replaces the warmth of your comforter.
He lets out a short huff. “Nah, we gotta pick something up from someone.”
Your brows draw together. “Who the hell is ‘we?’”
“You and me.”
It’s the casualness in his tone, like it takes nothing out of him to say these things, that drops your stomach. Whatever the implications of that may be, however — you don’t want to consider them in the slightest.
You roll your eyes, biting out, “You’re annoying.” Then you hang up before he’s able to say anything else and start walking down the hall to Lina’s room.
Hushed conversations spill out the cracks of her door. Softly, you knock twice before poking your head in. She sits under her comforter with her hair still wrapped up in a towel, watching an episode of Breaking Bad. Her head snaps toward you, raising one brow like she already knows what you’re about to say.
“I’ma head out real quick,” you inform her, slightly guilty for leaving her alone. But she doesn’t seem to mind.
A faint smirk pulls at her face as she takes your appearance in, and she bluntly says, “That’s code for ‘I’m getting dicked tonight.’”
Your lips curl in to hold back your smile. “Mind you, that’s my good friend you’re talking about.”
The sentence barely finishes before you cave into laughter. Lina shakes her head, shoulders vibrating as she pauses the show. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a good friend like that before.”
You flip her off — to which she shouts back, “Be safe” — and shut the door, heading toward the living room. Only seconds pass between you sitting down and headlights flooding through the front window. The outline of Colston’s truck sits in the driveway, muffled whirring passing through the walls.
He texts you one word: Outside.
Nerves flare up throughout your body like this is the first time you’ve ever been alone with him. In need of a shot of courage, you take a shaky breath in and tell yourself that this reaction is nothing short of embarrassing as you slip on your Uggs. And when you finally step outside, the sudden rush of heat is enough to vaporize your distress.
Gravel crunches underneath your feet on your way to the passenger side of his truck. He drops his phone into his lap as you climb in, meeting his stare with one of your own. The seat has certainly spent the last hour being occupied by someone else, slightly sunken and warm under the exposed skin of your thighs. You break away from his gaze to readjust the seat’s position, pulling the metal bar to drag it closer to the dashboard.
With no regard for space, he leans over — forearm brushing your legs — and opens the glovebox. Rummaging and rummaging for something he can’t seem to find.
“What are—”
“You left this.”
A short brown lip liner falls into your lap alongside a squeeze tube — undoubtedly the combo you’d accepted was gone forever nearly two weeks ago. His hand lingers on your knee for a second longer than needed after, and your gaze flits between him and the makeup products.
Carefully taking the lip liner between your fingertips and lifting it into the light, you blankly tell him, “These aren’t mine.”
He looks back at you unimpressed. “Just put the seatbelt on.”
You make a dramatic display of clicking the buckle in before tossing the lip liner and gloss into the front cup holder. “Your car is ran through.”
His arm extends to hold onto your seat as he backs out of the driveway. Forces you to stare out the front windshield instead of directly at him — but your eyes wander on their own, watching the smooth movements of his one hand on the steering wheel. How it wraps around the entire gear stick, moving the car into drive, and you can’t tell if it’s the late hour or if you’re just always this easy.
Some country song you’ve never heard plays low from his speakers. And you’re taking full advantage of the presented distraction, drumming your fingers along your thigh to the rhythm. Absent-mindedly listening to the lyrics, quickly accepting that the song is grating to your ears.
“This song is ass,” you mumble, slumping further into the seat.
He glances at you, evidently amused. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It sounds terrible.”
“I like it.”
You stay silent, angling your body away from him like it’s some form of punishment. The car rolls to a stop at a red light, and he looks over again. For a moment, all he does is silently watch as you deliberately avoid him. Then the light turns green, and you can feel his eyes peeling away from you to return to the road. It’s like you’re caught in some childish game, sneaking a glance back at him now that he’s no longer looking at you.
Colston sighs, fishing for his phone out of the pocket of his shorts before tossing it into your lap. The screen is scratched up in the corner and dangerously foreign under your grasp. You handle it like hot coals, quickly flashing it at him as if to ask what the hell he wants you to do with it.
“Quit actin’ grumpy and change the song,” he mutters, that soft Idaho accent peeking through the way it always does when he tries to tell you to do something.
“How do you expect me to do that?” you argue, tapping the screen again to show the locked screen with his password.
“It’s oh-four-oh-nine.”
All your movements pause, lips parting as your brows furrow together like you’ve been witness to something you surely weren’t supposed to see.
“Why is your password your birthday?” You fight the instinct to laugh, but you’re only so strong until the giggles start to spill out.
He stares at you while also failing at keeping his face straight. “Trippin’ on my music, then my password.” The amusement on his face spreads as you roll your eyes, pooling at the dimples in his cheeks. “It’s real strict out here.”
“I just don’t like when you do stupid shit.”
You type his password in, coming across his home screen you’ve seen over his shoulder several times before. It’s oddly sacred, and you’re half-tempted to go through every app on his phone instead of just changing the music. One-hundred-and-twelve unread messages that practically call out your name. Or his six missed calls. Or maybe the ninety-nine plus Instagram notifications.
But you stop yourself before your hovering thumb can make any irreversible decisions on its own and open Apple Music. An emoji serves as the name for his playlists, and while you don’t quite understand the thought process behind each one, you’re strangely endeared by it. As you scroll through them, you settle on the random pineapple that has the most recognizable songs and press play.
The heavy bass starts to vibrate throughout the truck, traveling up the back of your seat before bounding around inside of your skull. Already making you less sour in a span of thirty seconds. You look out the window to see unfamiliar streets, like you’re in an entirely different city and not less than ten minutes away from your apartment.
“Where the hell are you going?” you ask, evidently suspicious as he turns into a neighborhood lined with old one-story houses.
“A couple of the older guys live here.” He straightens up, squinting as he starts to slow down near a cul-de-sac. “I left my jacket two weeks ago.”
“And you’re deciding to get it now because?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “‘Cause why not.”
A gray house comes into view, yellow light slipping through the front curtains. Colston parks alongside the curb, leaving the engine running as he unbuckles.
“Are you coming down?” he asks.
You shuffle in your seat to look him sternly in the eye. “No, but don’t take long,” you say seriously. He raises his brow, and you point at your surroundings like he’s missing a clear sign. “I don’t wanna get kidnapped.”
He huffs, shaking his head like you’re overreacting. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”
“You don’t know that.”
For your comfort, he leaves his keys with you. His walk up the concrete pathway is accompanied with endless beeping as you repeatedly press the lock button. Exhausting your thumb until you're half-sure the car won’t spontaneously unlock itself at an intruder. When you check the time on your phone, hardly a minute has passed after you’ve certainly lived through at least fifteen of them.
A groan rumbles through your chest, and you rest your temple against the cool glass while you stare at the rubber floor mats. Spring training’s end has left him with too little to do. Every inch of his truck is spotless, cleared of any junk you used to have to compete for the floor with. Not that it’s of any use to you when you’re sitting stranded in the middle of the night, instructions to not be slow lost on him.
By the time his outline appears in the driver’s side window, a total of four minutes have passed from him going inside to making his way back out. He tosses a black hoodie into the backseat and looks at you expectantly.
“Was that fast enough for you?” he asks, already lying his phone in your lap again.
Blinking slowly, you stare at the clear casing before telling him, “No.”
“That wasn’t even five minutes.”
“Fooled me.”
You open his phone, still somewhat thrown by the unlimited access he’s granted, and aimlessly swipe between screens as he turns up the air conditioning. Cold air harshly blows out of the vent directly onto your legs, raising small goosebumps along your thigh. Like some external entity keeps trying to warn you against snooping.
“It’s not even that hot,” you complain, angling the vents to point off to the side.
“I’m sweating from hurrying up.” He rests his arm on the center console, leaning back to let the air cool him down.
Your fingers pinch the fabric around his forearm, feeling how thick the material is. “Take this thick ass hoodie off then.”
The corner of his mouth lifts as he turns to the side to face you. “Freaky lil’ girl,” he says, a smile loud in his voice. “Tryna make me take my clothes off.”
His hands move to the hem, but you yank on his right ear before quickly bracing yourself for some form of retaliation. Heartbeat pounding inside of your chest like there’s an actual threat as he tries to poke at your side. You manage to grab his forearm, holding it up and away from you.
“Keep your hands to yourself,” you laugh out, dropping your hand to let him take his sweater off.
It joins his newly retrieved jacket in the backseat, and he shifts the gear into drive as he asks, “Where do you wanna go?”
You shrug in response. “You’re asking me when this was your idea.”
He does a three-point turn, heading out the same way you came in. “I’m getting a lot of attitude right now.”
“I’m not even—”
“I think Alex is talking to one of your friends,” he randomly cuts in.
Every nerve in your body seems to freeze.
“Which one?”
“Marina, I think.” He turns to you, checking to see if he’s gotten the name right. Only to be met with your jaw entirely slack as you try to piece the information together.
Nearly three weeks have passed since you’ve last seen her, and she made no mention of it. And you know her — she’s not the type to keep something like this a secret.
“How long has this been going on?”
He turns the volume down by two. “Like… a week, maybe?”
“A week,” you echo, tapping your index against your lip as you think. “How’d this even start?”
“I don’t know.”
Your face drops. “What?”
“I didn’t ask,” he says offhandedly, like he hasn’t just delivered the worst news possible to you. “I was cookin’ him on Madden, then he just said he was talking to your friend.”
“How do you know which friend then?”
“‘Cause I asked him which one and he said Marina.”
“What’d you say after that?”
The freeway is still littered with cars at this hour, and he distractedly hums as he tries to move down the lanes.
“I was like, ‘That’s crazy.’” An irritated silence ensues, causing Colston to smile at the small scowl on your face. “I’ll ask him the next time he brings it up,” he negotiates.
You slump into your seat, defeated. “I won’t care by the time you find out.”
“He probably DMed her or something,” he suggests, relaxing his shoulders once he’s situated in the third lane. “That’s what I assumed.”
Bitterly, you tell him, “I guess we’ll never know.”
Soft instrumentals spill out from the speakers, rhythmic strumming of a guitar playing throughout the introduction. In the night, it sounds near confessional if you choose to add meaning to it. But you know it’s pure coincidence, and you let the familiar tune play out as you look at the trees blurring by.
“Did you put this?” he asks, raising the volume by one again.
You shake your head, showing the album cover spread across his lock screen. “No, I just played the pineapple one.”
“I was about to say,” he starts, briefly flitting his eyes toward you before returning to the road. “What do you know about this song?”
“Don’t act like that over a song everyone knows,” you argue, lazily turning your head to look at him. “You’re not niche.”
His laugh carries throughout the entire truck, draping all over the music until it’s all you can hear. “You can admit I put you on.”
“No one puts me on to anything.” You open his phone, queueing several songs you’re certain he’s never heard of, deciding he’s earned the privilege of knowing your favorite ones. “I’ll put you on, though.”
“Play ‘Massaging Me’ after,” he tells you, drawing a short laugh from you. “It’s a good song.”
“It’s just random.” You add it into the queue, moving it to play after your first song.
As the conversation dies out, you comfortably sit in each other’s presence. He brings his right arm back to the center console, and with the minimal street lights, your eyes glide up and down the ink of his forearm. Letting the minute details filter in and out of your brain with each pass until you’re not even quite sure what you’re looking at anymore.
Then, hesitantly, you glance up at his face. Looking directly ahead of him, either unaware you’re staring or pretending to not notice. You take advantage of it anyway and trace the sharp line of his nose, dipping into the small space above his lip before lingering on the soft outline of his mouth. A dull pulse starts to scamper across your own mouth. Have to promptly shut it down by ripping your eyes away and staring out the window.
It’s the darkness messing with your head, you decide.
“Are you staying here for the summer?” His voice slices through your thoughts, and you have to turn the question over to actually process his words.
“I’ll be back home until the end of June, basically,” you say, keeping your eyes from wandering back to him.
If it wasn’t for his head lightly nodding, you’d assume he didn’t hear you. He’s silent for another moment, moving into the farthest left lane after a car passes.
“That’s lowkey a month,” he eventually lets out, like he’s just said something emotionally moving.
You huff in laughter, rolling your eyes. “It is a month, stupid.”
“I meant, like—” He catches sight of you biting your cheek, trying to hide your amusement, and sighs, disregarding his failed explanation. “What are you gonna do the whole month?”
“Hmm.” Quite frankly, you actually don’t have a plan. All you know is it’s summer, and you definitely aren't going to get any younger. “Probably watch Love Island. Maybe go outside.”
He raises his brows in amusement, and your eyes narrow in confusion.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you gonna do?”
The accusation in your tone makes him laugh. “I’ma be everywhere. Idaho, Michigan…” he drones off at the end, abruptly cutting his list short.
Your shoulders shake in stifled laughter. “That was a terrible list.”
“Never let ‘em know your next move,” he corrects. “If I tell you, it kills the mystery.”
“You’re the lamest person I know,” you say, smiling in spite of your flat voice. “No one’s tracking your movements.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I promise I’m not jealous you’re going to Idaho.”
He vaguely gestures with his hand on the steering wheel. “A lot of people would be.” Then he turns to you, eyes flickering between your face and your legs pressing together. “I’ll bring you back a spud.”
“You’re so white,” you say through fragmented laughter. “Keep that negative energy away from me.” You lightly whack at his forearm right next to you, but it hardly makes any impact at nudging it away.
Blindly, he tries to pinch at your side again, forcing a small squeal out of you. All sharp and fast movements you can’t seem to escape, essentially tickling you as you’re held down by the seatbelt in the passenger seat.
“Colston, you’re gonna—” You let out a small giggle as he pokes you right below the rib, and you take partial hold of his wrist to slow his movement. “If I die, it’s on you.”
He stops trying to bother you, resting his hand right below the hem of your shorts you didn’t bother changing out of — a deliberate choice you refuse to acknowledge. His hand squeezes once out of habit before going slack. And something nags at your brain, reasoning that it’s best if you move it. But instead, you relax under his touch, slumping back into your seat.
It’s the darkness. Surely.
“Doing too much,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on the steering wheel with his left hand. “You’re not gonna get hurt.”
“I don’t know,” you sigh skeptically. “All men do is lie.”
notes: none ig? i just did a double upload and this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit, the nsfw one is coming eventually...
warning: this is a alternative universe, none! just carson being a sweet man
A = Affection
Carson acted too cool in public sometimes, but behind closed doors he was clingy as hell and he loved spoiling her too because in his mind, taking care of his girl was part of loving her. When their cars got stolen and she was stressed about her old Mercedes being gone, he literally showed up the next day with a matte black one with red interior and tinted windows like it was nothing. He shrugged when she started freaking out and just smirked. “What? You think my girl finna be riding around in a rental?”
B = Best Friend
As a best friend he would be annoying in the funniest way possible. Constantly teasing, constantly trying to make her laugh, randomly Facetiming just to talk about nothing, but over time she’d realize he actually listened to everything she said. He’d become the type to defend her without her even asking.
C = Cuddles
He absolutely loved cuddling even if he pretended he didn’t. Carson was the type to act like, “Come here,” instead of admitting he wanted affection. He liked laying on top of her slightly, one arm around her waist while she played in his hair or rubbed his back. After long days he’d bury his face into her neck and just stay there quietly.
D = Domestic
He definitely wanted to settle down eventually, especially once he found somebody who understood him beyond football and his image. Cooking wise, he could thrown down on the grill well and make breakfast, but cleaning was hit or miss because he’d leave hoodies and slides everywhere.
E = Ending
Breaking up would honestly be hard for him because he hated looking vulnerable. He’d probably try to act detached at first, but if he genuinely loved her, it would eat him alive. He’d want a private conversation instead of ghosting because despite his ego, he respected the relationship too much for that.
F = Fiancée
Commitment scared him at first because he was used to attention and people wanting things from him, but once he trusted someone, he was all in. He wouldn’t rush marriage super fast, but he’d definitely start talking about houses, vacations, kids, and future plans before he even realized he was doing it.
G = Gentle
Carson was way gentler than people expected. Physically, he was careful with her without making it obvious, always guiding her with a hand on her lower back or checking if she was okay after roughhousing. Emotionally, he struggled opening up at first, but once he did, he became very soft with her feelings.
H = Hugs
He loved hugs when nobody was around. In public he might keep it quick because of appearances, but privately, he could hold her forever. His hugs were warm and tight, the kind where he’d lift her slightly off the ground and sway a little while she was squeeling for him to put her back down on the floor without realizing it.
I = I love you
It would take him a while to say “I love you” because his ego made him terrified of giving somebody that much power over him. Expensive gifts, showing up for her when it matters, remembering little things, taking care of her when she was sick. He’d show it long before he actually said it though, then one random night he’d say it quietly like it slipped out accidentally, and when she stared at him shocked, he’d mutter, “Don’t make it weird.”
J = Jealousy
He got jealous very easily, even if he tried acting unbothered. If another guy was clearly flirting with his girl, Carson would suddenly become extra affectionate. Arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple, pulling her into his lap. Later he’d casually ask, “You know, dude wanted you right?” while acting like he didn’t care at all.
K = Kisses
His kisses depended on his mood. Sometimes slow and teasing, sometimes intense like he’d been thinking about it all day. He loved kissing her forehead and neck, especially when she was distracted. He secretly loved being kissed on the jaw and neck because it made him melt instantly.
L = Little Ones
Kids would naturally gravitate toward him because despite his cocky personality, he was playful. He’d let little kids climb all over him, buy them snacks they definitely didn’t need, and teach them random football things. Seeing his girlfriend with kids would make him think about becoming a dad way sooner than he expected.
M = Morning
Mornings with Carson were lazy. He’d complain if she tried getting out of bed too early and drag her back by her waist. He liked quiet mornings with breakfast, sports highlights playing in the background, and her sitting between his legs while he scrolled on his phone half awake.
N = Night
Nights were his favorite because that was when he relaxed the most. Late drives, movies they barely paid attention to, talking in bed for hours. He was definitely the type to get more emotional late at night too, saying things he normally wouldn’t during the day.
O = Open
He revealed things slowly because trust didn’t come easy to him. At first she’d only get the confident, joking version of him, but over time he’d start talking about pressure, expectations, insecurities, and things people didn’t know about him. Once he cracked open though, he got attached deeply.
P = Patience
His patience honestly depended on the situation. Carson could get irritated quickly, especially when stressed with football, but with his girlfriend he usually cooled down fast because he hated hurting her feelings. Arguments could get heated, but he was the type to come back later calmer and say, “Alright… I shouldn’t have said that.”
Q = Quizzes
He remembered more than people thought he did. Favorite snacks, random stories she mentioned once, little details about her routines. He’d pretend not to care then randomly surprise her with something she mentioned months ago.
R = Remember
His favorite moments would honestly be the simple ones. Laying in bed laughing until they couldn’t breathe, her showing up to support him, quiet nights after chaos. He’d never admit it out loud, but those moments mattered more to him than parties or attention ever did.
S = Security
Carson was extremely protective. If somebody disrespected his girlfriend, his entire demeanor changed instantly. He liked knowing she felt safe with him, and secretly loved when she protected him emotionally too, especially during rough periods where people constantly criticized him online.
T = Try
When he cared, he put in real effort. Dates wouldn’t always be super flashy because sometimes he preferred privacy, but he loved meaningful gifts and experiences. He paid attention to what made her happy and remembered it. Even little things like warming up her car or ordering her favorite food before she asked.
U = Ugly
His ego could definitely become a problem sometimes. He hated admitting when he was wrong immediately, got stubborn during arguments, and sometimes shut down emotionally instead of communicating. He also got a little too possessive when insecure.
V = Vanity
He cared a LOT about his appearance. Clothes fitted perfectly, chains on, haircut fresh, cologne expensive. He liked when his girlfriend looked good too because together they turned heads everywhere they went, and he secretly loved the attention they got as a couple.
W = Whole
He wouldn’t admit he needed someone, but once he truly fell in love, life genuinely felt off without her around. Even during busy football schedules he’d constantly check his phone waiting for her texts or calls.
X = Xtra
Carson absolutely loved late night drives with music blasting. Half the time he’d drive with one hand while holding his girlfriend’s thigh with the other, talking about random things for hours because it was one of the few times he felt fully relaxed.
Y = Yuck
He hated dishonesty and attention seeking behavior from girls. If he felt like somebody was using him for clout, money, or football status, he’d pull away immediately. He also couldn’t stand excessive nagging during stressful football weeks.
Z = Zzz
Carson slept like a giant teddy bear and moved around constantly. He’d start on his side then somehow end up halfway on top of her by morning. He also loved sleeping with one hand on her somewhere just to know she was there.
background: after colston needs a cut before an important wedding, he gets recommended to y/n and he never will regret it.
(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved)
word count: 3.8k
notes: i cant wait for pt1 of this! the series guide is linked here! its a short part but theres so many other parts to come! want to join the taglist? comment asking or quote repost to be added or send a ask in my inbox (asking me) or to be removed please send a ask in my inbox! i dont bite
warning: this is a alternative universe, colston being down bad
The second Colston found out that one of his old Michigan teammates was finally getting married, his first thought was that he was genuinely happy for him.
His second thought was that he looked absolutely terrible.
Not terrible in a dramatic way. Not “homeless man under an overpass” terrible. But terrible in the very specific way athletes looked after being burrowed in his home right before OTA's.
His fade had grown out unevenly around the edges, the back of his hair was doing something strange every morning, and the dryness in the front had gotten so bad it practically stood up on its own like static got to it.
And this was not just any wedding.
This was JJ Mccarthy and his fianceè Katya’s wedding.
California.
Black tie.
A bunch of Michigan alumni.
NFL players.
Photographers.
Instagram stories.
The kind of event where one bad haircut lived online forever.
So naturally, Colston was standing in the locker room one afternoon staring into his phone camera with pure disgust while turning his head side to side.
“Nah,” he muttered. “This is badd.”
Across from him, Caleb Williams looked up from tying his cleats.
“You talking to yourself again?”
Colston angled the phone toward him. “Look at this.”
Caleb stared for two seconds.
Then immediately started laughing.
“Oh, you sick.”
“Be serious.”
“I am serious. You got helmet hair permanently attached to your skull.”
Colston threw a towel at him.
“I gotta leave for California in like two days.”
“For JJ’s wedding?”
“Yeah.”
Caleb nodded slowly, still grinning. “Okay, yeah. You can’t go lookin’ like that.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Caleb leaned back against the locker with the expression of somebody about to make a very bad decision.
“I got somebody.”
Colston narrowed his eyes instantly. “No.”
“What you mean no? You don’t even know who I’m talking about.”
“Because every time you say ‘I got somebody,’ it turns into a disaster.”
“This one different.”
“Mhm.”
Caleb pointed at him dramatically. “My homegirl cuts hair. Braids too. If you got hair, she can do something with it.”
“I don’t need braids.”
“I know that. I’m just saying she versatile.”
Colston still looked unconvinced.
Caleb continued anyway.
“She got her own private suite downtown. Appointment-only type setup. Real fancy. She hard to get in with though.”
“How hard?”
“She booked for like three weeks.”
Colston groaned immediately.
“But…” Caleb dragged the word out with a smirk. “I could probably convince her to fit you in if I take you.”
Colston stared at him.
“You acting like you introducing me to the president.”
“I’m serious. She don’t play about her schedule.”
“So why would she squeeze me in?”
Caleb shrugged. “Money.”
“That’s honest at least.”
“And because I’m me.”
“That part I don’t believe.”
Caleb laughed loudly. “Man shut up.”
By the next afternoon, Colston found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Caleb’s matte black SUV heading toward downtown Chicago while regretting every decision that had led him there.
The city was gray from an earlier drizzle, the streets glossy with rainwater reflecting storefront lights and traffic signals. Caleb drove one-handed through traffic like he owned the entire road, music low through the speakers while Colston kept checking the time on his phone.
“You nervous over a haircut?” Caleb asked.
“I’m nervous because you hyped this woman up like she finna perform surgery.”
“She basically do.”
“That don’t even make sense.”
Caleb smirked but didn’t answer.
Eventually they turned into one of those expensive downtown parking garages connected to luxury buildings with offices on lower floors, boutiques in the middle, private studios and salons higher up. The kind of building with dim warm lighting and concrete walls so clean they barely looked real.
As soon as they parked, Caleb pointed at him.
“Act normal.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means don’t walk in there acting weird.”
“I’m literally getting a haircut.”
“She can smell weird energy.”
Colston blinked slowly. “You sound insane.”
They rode the elevator up several floors until the doors opened into a quieter hallway lined with frosted glass suites and minimalist gold signage.
Everything smelled expensive.
The suite Caleb stopped at had soft lighting spilling through the frosted glass beside the door, and in elegant lettering across the front it read ‘Relax Theory Studio.’
Colston glanced over.
“That sound like somewhere people cry after divorces.”
Caleb snorted before pushing the door open.
The first thing Colston noticed was the music.
Soft R&B floated through hidden speakers at just the right volume, enough to hear but not enough to interrupt conversation. The suite itself was ridiculously calmin with floating shelves lined with products organized perfectly.
A coffee station in the corner. Huge mirrors with soft backlighting. One styling chair near the front and another farther back near the shampoo bowls. And standing near one of the counters organizing clippers was Y/N Y/LN.
Colston noticed her before she even looked up.
Alo zip up sweatshirt over a black tank top. Gold jewelry catching under the warm lights. Nails glossy. Hair pulled back effortlessly. One of those people that looked put together without seeming like they tried too hard.
She glanced up.
Saw Caleb.
And immediately pointed at him.
“Aht aht.”
Caleb started laughing instantly.
“Nope,” she said. “Absolutely not. I’m not fitting you in again, Caleb.”
“I brought somebody important.”
“You said that last time, and it was literally your cousin.”
“He was important to me.”
She rolled her eyes.
Then her gaze shifted toward Colston.
And paused for half a second.
Not dramatic.
Not obvious.
But enough for him to notice.
Caleb grinned immediately like an instigator sensing blood in the water.
“This Colston.”
“I know who he is,” she said casually.
Something about hearing that made Colston straighten up a little.
Caleb looked between them with way too much amusement.
“See? We already got chemistry.”
“Please leave,” Y/N deadpanned.
Caleb ignored her entirely. “He got JJ’’s wedding in California and look at his hair.”
“Yo.”
She stepped closer before Colston could defend himself, tilting her head slightly while examining him with the focus of an artist staring at a crooked painting.
And then she sighed.
“Your hair is dry, Colston.”
The way she said it was so disappointed it almost embarrassed him.
“I know.”
“No, like dry dry...”
Caleb burst out laughing behind him.
Y/N pointed toward the chair.
“Get in.”
Colston sat while Caleb wandered around the suite touching random things until Y/N threatened him twice.
Eventually she draped the cape around Colston’s shoulders, fingers brushing briefly against the back of his neck while fastening it.
“You use conditioner?”
“Yes.”
She gave him a look in the mirror.
“Be honest.”
“Sometimes.”
“Mhm.”
Caleb nearly folded over laughing again.
“This why I don’t invite you places,” Colston muttered.
Y/N shook her head while gently pushing his hair around.
“It’s not horrible,” she admitted. “It’s just thirsty.”
“That sounds disrespectful.”
“It is.”
The conversation flowed easier than Colston expected after that.
Too easy, honestly.
Usually haircuts felt awkward. Either silence or forced conversation. But Y/N talked naturally while working, moving around him with calm confidence that made the entire suite feel slower somehow.
She asked about California.
About the wedding.
About Michigan.
And when he mentioned how long he’d known JJ, her expression softened slightly.
“That’s actually sweet.”
“What?”
“You going all the way out there and stressing over a haircut for your friend’s wedding.”
“I’m not stressing.”
“You checked your reflection in my mirror four times already.”
Caleb pointed dramatically from the couch. “Cook him.”
Colston glared at him.
Eventually Y/N guided him toward the shampoo bowls in the back.
“Come on. We gotta save your scalp.”
“You make it sound tragic.”
“It is tragic.”
The shampoo area was somehow even calmer than the rest of the suite. Dimmer lighting. Warm towels stacked nearby. The faint sound of water running somewhere.
As soon as Colston leaned back into the chair, he realized he understood why Caleb hyped this place up so much.
The water temperature was perfect.
Not too hot.
Not too cold.
And when Y/N’s fingers finally worked into his hair, Colston nearly lost his train of thought entirely.
She scrubbed his scalp thoroughly, nails lightly dragging against his skin in slow circular motions while working shampoo through his hair.
It should not have felt that relaxing.
At all.
But after weeks of helmets, sweat, workouts, and constant movement, it practically felt therapeutic.
“You got tension bad,” she murmured.
“Hm?”
“Your scalp tight.”
“Is that a thing?”
“Yes.”
“You judging my scalp now?”
“I’m judging everything.”
He laughed quietly despite himself.
His hair, wet now, flattened briefly before sticking up again in random directions the second she worked product through it. Short straight pieces poked everywhere, no matter what she did.
Y/N smiled.
“Your hair doesn’t know what it wanna do.”
“That makes two of us.”
She looked down at him for a second after that comment, and Colston hated how fast his chest reacted to it, because Caleb leaving halfway through somehow made everything worse.
The second his phone rang, he stood dramatically.
“Aight I gotta go.”
Colston looked up immediately. “You’re leaving?”
“Yep.”
“You brought me here.”
“And now you safe.”
Y/N pointed toward the door. “Bye Caleb.”
“See how I’m treated?” he complained while grabbing his keys.
Neither of them answered.
A minute later the door shut behind him, leaving only the quiet music and the sound of water running softly in the background.
And somehow that silence felt different immediately.
“So,” she said casually, “you nervous for the wedding?”
“Nah.”
“You lying again.”
He opened one eye.
“Why you keep calling me out?”
“Because you got nervous energy.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
By the time Y/N finished rinsing the conditioner from Colston’s hair and guided him back toward the styling chair, the entire atmosphere of the suite had shifted into something dangerously comfortable.
That was the problem.
Nothing felt forced around her.
Not the conversation.
Not the silence.
Not even the way she moved around him with one hand lightly touching his shoulder to turn him toward the mirror while she plugged in the blow dryer.
Most people around NFL players acted one of two ways, either overly impressed or overly uninterested trying to prove they didn’t care and Y/N somehow did neither. She talked to Colston like he was just another client in her chair, even while lightly roasting him every five minutes.
And unfortunately for him, it was working.
Way too well.
The warm air from the dryer pushed through his hair while she worked a brush through it carefully, sectioning the short straight strands with practiced ease. His hair puffed out slightly under the heat before settling softer than it had looked all month.
“You see?” she said. “Hydration, a basic concept.”
Colston smirked a little. “You really been judging me since I walked in.”
“Because you came in here struggling.”
“I was not struggling.”
“You were one gust of wind away from looking electrocuted.”
He laughed under his breath while she continued drying his hair, fingers occasionally brushing the sides of his head when she adjusted the angle.
And that definitely wasn’t helping him think straight either.
At one point she stepped away to grab another clipper guard from the counter, and Colston immediately reached for his phone sitting in his lap beneath the cape.
Without even thinking twice, he opened Caleb’s messages.
Colston: you did NOT tell me your stylist was hot
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Caleb: oh brother
Caleb: I knew this was coming
Colston glanced toward Y/N, who was reorganizing products near the mirror completely unaware, then typed again.
Colston: im serious
Caleb: colston you are NOT about to fuck my stylist
Caleb: thats my homegirl
He snorted quietly.
Colston: im just saying
Caleb: no youre not JUST saying, i know your type of timing
Colston smirked to himself while Caleb kept going.
Caleb: plus she dont even be on that right now anyway
Colston’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Colston: what that mean
The typing bubble paused.
Then resumed.
Caleb: she been single for a minute
Caleb: last dude wasnt even her man for real it was some sneaky link situation
Caleb: ended BAD too
Colston read the next message twice.
Caleb: the girl threatened her so hard she aint tryna die anymore 😭
Colston barked out an actual laugh before quickly covering it with a cough.
Y/N turned around immediately.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded loud for nothing.”
He shook his head while locking his phone.
“Caleb being stupid.”
“That’s every day.”
There was something weirdly attractive about how naturally she said that, like her and Caleb had been friends since day 1. The kind of friendship where she’d threaten to kick him out but still fit his teammates into her schedule.
Y/N moved back behind the chair and started sectioning his hair again.
The blow dryer hummed softly while she shaped the front carefully, fingers lifting pieces and letting them fall.
“You got good hair when you actually take care of it,” she admitted.
“That sounded backhanded.”
“Because it was.”
“Damn.”
She smiled a little to herself.
The more time passed, the more Colston caught himself watching her instead of his reflection.
The concentration on her face when she lined things up.
The way her bracelets slid softly down her wrist every time she adjusted his head.
The way she absentmindedly bit the inside of her cheek while focusing.
It was bad.
And it got significantly worse about ten minutes later.
Because Chicago salons in winter got warm fast with blow dryers running nonstop, and eventually Y/N stepped back from the chair and sighed dramatically.
“It is hot in here.”
Before Colston could even process it, she pulled the quarter zip Alo sweatshirt over her head casually and tossed it onto the counter nearby.
Underneath was a fitted tank top that hugged her perfectly.
And suddenly Colston forgot every thought he previously had.
Completely.
The tank showed the toned lines of her shoulders and arms, gold jewelry sitting against her skin while she moved around him adjusting clippers like she hadn’t just altered the entire atmosphere of the room.
Meanwhile Colston was trying very hard to maintain eye contact with literally anything else.
The mirror.
The ceiling.
The product shelf.
The wall.
Anything.
Unfortunately, Y/N stepped directly in front of him a second later while adjusting the chair height.
“Look up for me.”
Big mistake.
Because the second he tilted his head back slightly, she leaned closer to start lining up the edges near his mustache, and from that angle…
Absolutely not.
His eyes flicked downward for half a second before immediately snapping back up toward the ceiling.
Professionalism Colston...
Meanwhile, Y/N remained completely unaware, focused entirely on shaping the line carefully while holding his chin lightly between her fingers to keep him still.
“Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving.”
“You literally just did.”
“My bad.”
Her fingers pressed briefly along his jaw to tilt his face straighter.
And that definitely didn’t help either.
Colston swallowed hard while trying to focus on literally anything besides how good she smelled up close. Something warm and expensive cancelling out the minty scent floating through the salon.
“You nervous?” she asked suddenly.
His eyes dropped back to hers.
“Hm?”
“You keep swallowing like you about to give a speech.”
Jesus Christ.
“Nah,” he said quickly.
She narrowed her eyes slightly like she didn’t fully believe him.
Then she turned the chair carefully side to side, examining her work from different angles while the lights reflected softly across the mirror.
Colston watched her through the reflection the entire time.
And somehow it was worse seeing her that way, moving around him confidently in that calm little salon suite like she belonged exactly there.
Which she did.
“Okay,” she murmured finally. “Now we getting somewhere.”
She reached up and lightly pushed a piece of his hair into place near the front before stepping back again.
And Colston realized two things at once.
First, she was really, really good at what she did.
Second, California suddenly wasn’t the thing he was most interested in anymore.
“You got somewhere after this?” she asked casually while cleaning up one side of the lineup.
“Nah.”
“No team dinner?”
“Tomorrow.”
She nodded once. “Mhm.”
“You?”
“I live here now,” she joked “This suite pay too much rent for me to leave.”
He laughed quietly.
And then the front door opened.
Immediately the calm atmosphere shattered.
“ LOOK AT MY BOY.”
Colston closed his eyes instantly.
Y/N groaned without even turning around.
“Why are you back?”
Caleb walked in carrying another coffee and grinning like an idiot the second he saw Colston sitting in the chair.
“Nah hold on.” Caleb walked closer dramatically, staring at the haircut like a proud father at graduation. “Okayyyyy.”
“Relax,” Colston muttered.
“No, because this is crazy.” Caleb pointed toward Y/N. “See? What I tell you? She a magician.”
Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t fully hide the small smile pulling at her mouth.
Caleb circled the chair inspecting every angle unnecessarily.
“Boy came in lookin’ homeless.”
“I was not homeless.”
“You was one cold night away.”
Y/N snorted quietly while cleaning the trimmers.
“See?” Caleb said immediately. “She know.”
“Y’all are annoying.”
Caleb leaned closer examining the fade dramatically.
“Damn. You actually look employable now.”
“Please shut up.”
The entire suite filled with easy laughter after that, the kind that made Colston realize how naturally he’d settled into this space in only a couple hours.
Too naturally.
Because when Y/N finally spun the chair slowly toward the mirror for the full reveal, Colston actually sat there for a second stunned.
The cut was clean.
Sharp.
Not overdone.
Just… good.
The front sat perfectly textured instead of dry and puffed up, the fade blended smooth, the lineup crisp without looking painted on.
He looked expensive.
Like somebody that belonged at a California wedding surrounded by cameras and NFL players.
“Damn,” he admitted quietly.
“Told you,” Y/N said smugly.
Caleb put both hands on his hips proudly like he personally did the haircut.
“That’s my stylist right there.”
“She not yours,” Colston said automatically.
Both of them looked at him immediately.
Caleb’s eyebrows lifted slowly.
Y/N tried not to smile.
Colston realized how that sounded three seconds too late.
Y/N shook her head laughing softly while pulling the cape off Colston’s shoulders.
The weird part was how normal everything suddenly felt after that.
Like he’d known her longer than one afternoon.
Like this wasn’t the first time he’d sat in her chair listening to her quietly roast him while music played in the background.
And that feeling only got worse once he stood up.
Because now he was taller than her by enough that she had to tilt her head slightly to look up at him while explaining how to maintain the style.
“Use the leave-in conditioner I put in your bag,” she said. “Not just water.”
“I do not just use water.”
“You absolutely do.”
Caleb nodded immediately. “He definitely do.”
“Why are both of y’all attacking me?”
“Because you need guidance,” Y/N answered calmly.
Colston laughed under his breath while pulling his wallet out.
“Nah seriously though,” he said. “How much I owe you?”
“250.”
Colston barely reacted before tapping his card instantly.
She noticed that too.
Athlete money.
No hesitation.
Still, she appreciated that he didn’t do the weird rich thing where he tried to flex or act flashy about it. He just paid, thanked her genuinely, and stood there awkwardly afterward like he didn’t actually wanna leave yet.
Which Caleb noticed immediately.
Because of course he did.
That man noticed everything.
Caleb suddenly snapped his fingers.
“WAIT.”
Both of them looked over.
Caleb pointed between them dramatically.
“Bro.”
“No,” Colston said instantly, already sensing danger.
“You invited me to this wedding.”
“And?”
“And I need a plus one.”
Y/N blinked. “What?”
Caleb walked toward her counter casually like this was the most normal idea in the world.
“I’m serious. You should pull up.”
Colston’s heart actually skipped for half a second.
Y/N laughed softly. “To California?”
“Yes.”
“For a wedding I don’t know anybody at?”
“You know me.”
“That is not convincing.”
Caleb ignored that completely.
“It’ll be fun. Rich people. Open bar. NFL players everywhere. You can judge everybody outfits.”
“That part does sound entertaining.”
“Exactly.”
Colston should’ve been saying something.
Anything.
But instead, unfortunately, his brain had temporarily shut down because while Y/N leaned back against the counter thinking about it, his eyes drifted downward again without permission.
And this time he got caught immediately.
Badly.
Because Y/N looked right at him mid sentence and paused.
Then slowly crossed her arms.
“Oh my God.”
Colston snapped back to reality instantly.
Caleb’s eyes widened with delight.
“OH HE GOT CAUGHT.”
“No I didn’t,” Colston said way too fast.
Y/N was trying not to laugh now.
“You absolutely did.”
“I wasn’t-”
“You were staring directly at my chest.”
Caleb physically bent over laughing.
“BROOOOO.”
Colston rubbed a hand over his face immediately.
“No, I was staring at your hair.”
Silence.
Then Y/N stared at him for a long second before bursting into actual laughter.
“MY hair?”
“Yes.”
“That’s your excuse?”
“It looked different.”
Caleb nearly fell against the counter laughing.
“That is the WORST recovery I ever heard in my life.”
“I panicked.”
“You think she dumb?!” Caleb wheezed.
Y/N was still laughing while shaking her head.
“Your hair,” she repeated sarcastically.
Colston pointed helplessly. “You took the zip-up off.”
“And suddenly my hair became interesting?”
“I don’t know, man.”
At least he was honest.
That somehow made it funnier.
Y/N looked down for a second, still smiling to herself before glancing back up at him.
And unfortunately for Colston, she didn’t actually look uncomfortable.
If anything, she looked entertained.
Which might’ve been even worse.
Caleb finally wiped tears from under his eyes dramatically.
“Anyway,” he said, recovering. “You coming or not?”
Y/N looked between both of them for a second.
Then shrugged casually.
“Sure.”
Colston blinked.
“Wait seriously?”
Now it was her turn to notice.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“You sound excited.”
“I’m not.”
“Mhm.”
Caleb looked back and forth between them like he’d just personally orchestrated the greatest event of his career.
As much as people wanna be mad at these white athletes…. Show the same outrage for our people out here beating on Women…… To many of our black athletes getting domestic charges but we don’t talk about that.
It starts with us. It’s start with us holding our own accountable… I’m sickkkkkk of waking up to another black athletes with domestic charges, battery and strangulation charges like what the actual fuck are we doing… we got bigger fish to try out here.
black athletes love complaining about racism but are the same ones strangling people
background: after colston needs a cut before an important wedding, he gets recommended to y/n and he never will regret it.
(all pics from pinterest, all rights reserved)
notes: new series who thiss?? okay i promise to stop making series, infact im about to cancel some because wth... anyways gonna try and double upload tonight a carson fic & a colston fic because ive been scamming yall..
taglist: comment or quote repost to be added or send a ask in my inbox (asking me)
ellievsbear
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
titsay
andulkaphoto
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
