#Joe Left Hand Records

[infinito2017]

INFINITO 2017 ALBUM OUT NOW

www.infinito2017.com

INFINITO 2017 - Mean Advanced Social Distant

[hiddenreamers]

I was in your music video - f1 drivers x singer!reader

SUMMARY: They say that if a poet loves you, they will write you into immortality. But if you date a musician, they might write you into the Billboard 100. Which is exactly what happens to your driver boyfriend.

Featuring: Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz Jr, Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell

Note: Yes, two songs are sung by male artists. Yes, I'm going to ignore that fact and you should, too.

Lewis Hamilton

He's been in the room maybe five times. The space always felt strangely sacred to him - this is where you write, compose and practice songs with your band; this is where the magic, so to speak, happens. Walls are absolutely covered with tour posters, polaroids and printed-out articles. There's a large mirror that seems to be a message board considering all the sticky notes and words written with a marker. The only somewhat de-cluttered space is surrounding the setup. It's an unspoken testament to being a musician in a band.

There's a certain tension inside the driver. You've never asked him to listen to a song before it's finished. Sure, he has listened through your albums before they were officially released but it was always just that - a recording, not a live version. So what's different this time? Why is it vital he hears this song early?

Walking through the room, Lewis has to carefully watch where he's going. He doesn't want to accidentally break something by stepping on a cable or kicking a box with unknown contents. Inside a garage, he knows what not to touch but a recording studio and instruments are pretty much an unknown world to him.

Lewis is standing around a tad awkwardly, hands in pockets, when the bassist pushes a big black box closer to the driver.

"Have a seat." The musician points to the chest.

Lewis frowns. "On the box?" he asks, unsure. "Is that okay?"

"It's the Lucky Chest, Hamilton," the bassist announces. The other band members snicker at the title. "You have to sit on it."

"What's lucky about it?" Lewis inquires. More than the seating choice, he's interested in the reason for laughter.

"The first time we played at a big festival," the guitarist begins, her story slightly interrupted by her tuning the guitar, "we were sitting on it and listening to Green Day's stage, wondering 'how the fuck are we supposed to play after them?'."

"We were doing like a punk-rock tribute thing," adds the drummer. He's adjusting his seat and judging by the constant up-and-down movement, he can't make up his mind. The process is finally over when he reaches to tap the high-hat and nods to himself, content.

"After we finished our set," you take over retelling the story, "Billy Joe Armstrong came up to us and said we did great."

"So now it's the Lucky Chest," concludes the bassist.

Perhaps it's another testament to being a musician in a band when multiple people together tell one story without cutting details or creating chaos. A true harmony, though a joke a little on the nose.

"Well, I'm honoured," Lewis says. An airy giggle escapes him as he's still thinking about how easily teamwork comes to you and your band.

"You should be." The guitarist points her finger at him in a joking but accusatory way. Then she looks over her shoulder. "Whenever you're ready, drummer boy."

Music fills the room and Lewis is instantly captivated by you. He noticed it the first time he saw you on stage, how something inside you changes the moment you hear the instruments playing. Intensity, fire - passion in its most primal form. But this time around, the look in your eyes is different. You're no longer looking at the audience but him specifically; instead of singing a song, you seem to be telling him something.

So he listens.

I'm a desert, you're an ocean It's your motion that I need Without you I am broken, left to thirst out in the heat

And how strange he suddenly feels: all of the sentiments he already knows but now that you've put them into words for the whole world to hear, he can't help but find some revelation in them. For a moment, there's only the two of you and your confession of desire. Every word resonates with him and Lewis feels like he could say all of those things about you, too.

The song is far from over but he has already decided - he will listen to it before every race.

Lando Norris

Nothing seemed different about that day.

Lando is streaming while you're still at the studio. In an hour or so, you will come back, he will end the stream and the two of you will sit down to eat something. You will talk about your day, he will say something silly and both of you will laugh. Just like you always did.

To his credit, Lando couldn't have known about the song because you never told him. Some part of you thought it would be a bit dramatic to announce that you've written a song about him but can't play it yet because it's not finished. It would spoil the fun, wouldn't it? Therefore, you decided to tell Lando only after he listened to the final product. Perhaps you also wanted to seem a lot more nonchalant about the whole thing, planning on giving him just an off-hand comment of "oh, by the way, this one's about you". Life, however, rarely turns out the way we plan and that's exactly what happened that night.

If it was just one or two people calling Lando "honeybee" on the stream, he probably wouldn't even notice. But even he will pay attention when the comments are going on hundreds if not thousands.

He can't help but grow flustered at the pet name born out of his visceral fear of insects.

"Who told you that?!" he yells in a comically angry tone, a poor attempt at hiding embarrassment.

The comments come flooding again, explaining the situation only in variations of your name and the title Espresso. And like a detective following a crime, Lando immediately searches the internet.

"I feel lied to," he speaks up. "She didn't tell me she has a new song coming out. Why am I the last one to know? When I literally live with her? This is so unfair, I'm obviously the biggest fan, I should know first!"

Lando plays the music video. From the first line of "he's thinking about me every night", his bashfulness only gets worse. What starts as an excited smile, grows into a flustered, giggly mess. Although his pride is on the line, he can't deny any of the claims you make in the song. Yes, he couldn't sleep one night thinking about you and texted you about that. Yes, he does call you often even though he hates making phone calls. And yes, Lando Norris is, in fact, wrapped around your finger. What a horse is everyone can see and similarly, everyone can see and define who Lando is when it comes to his girlfriend:

"Simp?" he reads one of the comments. "Look, maybe I am but at the end of the day I'm dating her and you're not so who's the real loser here?"

Lando can only laugh his heart out when the chat gets flooded with identical comments: You.

"Okay, I admit. I'm down bad for my girlfriend and I'm proud of that."

Tomorrow's headlines are bound to be interesting...

Oscar Piastri

Although Oscar has seen you in musicals countless times, this situation feels a lot weirder and more uncomfortable. When he comes to watch your show, he's in the audience and you're on the stage. Now you're sitting side by side on the couch in your shared apartment, about to see your first movie. You're both the audience and the creator, which leaves you unsure how to act.

Unfortunately, your discomfort only grows. Oscar seems to be enjoying the movie but joy is not granted to you on this day. With each minute, you know your big part is coming. Oh God, what is he going to think?

Then, you suddenly pause the film. Oscar looks at you confused.

"There's something you need to know before you watch this scene and listen to the song," you say before he can ask you about your strange actions.

Oscar's frown only deepens. "You're making it sound really serious."

"Because it is. The thing is... " you hang your voice, unsure how to put words together. How do you tell someone this without making things awkward? "This is more embarrassing than I thought it would be but the song you're about to hear, I wrote it thinking about you."

He's trying to smile but the shadow of embarrassment on his face doesn't go unnoticed. You can only hope it's good kind of nervous.

The movie is resumed. As your discomfort is barely tolerable, you're looking away from the TV, fidgeting ever-so-slightly. Once or twice, you glance at Oscar, trying to see his reaction. The problem is, he's sitting unbelievably still. True, Oscar Piastri tends to be on the calmer side but right now it feels off. As if lost deep in thought, he appears to be diligently contemplating the scene in the movie; picking apart the words that came to your mind while thinking about him.

When the song comes to an end, you pause the film once more. A tense silence falls between you and Oscar, both longing to say something and yet neither willing to.

"So?" you begin hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Oscar shifts awkwardly. "Erm... I don't really know what to say."

A nervous giggle escapes your lips. "It's really sappy, I know." You try to downplay the situation, fearing that his reaction is born out of something negative. Does he think you're clingy? Obsessive? Too dramatic to handle?

"It's not that," he quickly denies. "Well, okay, it is kind of sappy but it's good sappy?" Oscar's tone raises slightly, revealing that he's unsure whether it's the right choice of words.

"Good sappy?" you repeat.

It feels as though woe has weaved a nest inside your viscera. "Good sappy" sounds like a lovely, diplomatic euphemism used not to hurt someone's feelings.

"Yeah, it's just..." Oscar doesn't finish his sentence. He runs his hand through his hair, then rubs the back of his neck nervously. Finally, he looks at you but not in a way you're familiar with. There's something ethereal in his gaze, a glint of inexplicable emotion that would escape a less observant eye. "It's really beautiful," he says. "The fact that you feel this way about me?" You could swear there are tears in his eyes as he lets out a flustered giggle. "I can die happy now."

Carlos Sainz

As old tradition entails, the Thursdays before a race weekend are meant for golfing. And who is Carlos Sainz to not give in to the custom?

He's sitting in his car, impatiently ploughing through the traffic of the city centre. Why are people out and about at this time, anyway? Shouldn't they be at work? Wanting to get his mind off of the fact that he's going to be quite late to the game, Carlos turns on the radio. The man is mindlessly skipping through the stations until something catches his attention - the announcer introduces you as today's guest.

"Hello again, pretty girl," Carlos says to himself. A small smile enters his face.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you," the radio host begins. "Unfinished Business is just the album I've been waiting for this year. And not only me! Have you seen Billboard 100 lately?"

Your flustered giggle is just as adorable as always. "Yesterday evening, I think?"

The broadcaster sighs dramatically. "Then you have ancient news. I have the site pulled up now and check it every few minutes. Let me tell you, Unfinished Business has climbed twenty spots since morning."

"Oh, shoot."

"Indeed." The announcer laughs and Carlos does with him. It's such a familiar theme for the driver - you being more humble than you really should be, surprised by the success you entirely deserve.

"Now, to address the elephant in the room or rather on the music charts. Over and Over Again is like a love letter all of us have written but never sent. Tell me all about it!"

"I guess 'love letter' is a pretty good description," you explain. Curious, Carlos turns up the volume. "For some time, I was trying to put my thoughts together and tell someone how I felt but never could quite do it. I can write good songs but in real life, I'm pretty terrible at speaking my mind and talking about feelings. I just don't want people to misunderstand, you know?"

"What are you saying, hermosa?" Carlos asks aloud, although there's no one to answer him.

"At least you can write a song about it! We regular folk are stuck with memes and playlists."

"Thank God, I can!" You laugh and, as embarrassing as it may sound, Carlos feels a sudden warmth spreading through his chest. "I was struggling with saying what I wanted to say to him, so at some point, I just decided I could put those words and feelings into a song. He likes to listen to the radio when he's driving so he might even be listening right now."

Although nothing bad or negative is going on, Carlos feels himself growing tense, nervous. There's no doubt the "he" you keep mentioning is him but what exactly is it you've been trying to tell him? Is there something he's missing?

"Did you tell him you've written a song about him?" the radio host asks.

"It might have slipped my mind," you answer coyly.

The announcer only laughs. "Oh dear, what a way to find out! Without further ado, let's hear your love letter to the mysterious man. I really hope he's listening to us right now. Don't you dare change the station, you lucky guy."

To his own surprise, Carlos recognizes the melody - you've been humming it for weeks now. But as you begin singing, the words leave him in disbelief. Do you really... mean all of that?

Carlos is lost in the song, feeling as though the lyrics aren't just lyrics but your genuine confession; a true love letter, as you have said yourself. He's brought back to reality only when the car behind him honks and Carlos is a hair's breadth away from picking a fight with the other driver. Nothing requires more haste or attention than his girlfriend exclaiming to the whole world that he will always be the one for her and that she will love him over and over again.

Charles Leclerc

You don't hear Charles coming in - you're too lost in your own thing to remember there's an entire world outside of the song and the piano in front of you. On the other hand, Charles doesn't announce his arrival as he doesn't want to disturb you. To be perfectly honest, he's a little too curious to interrupt you. It happens very rarely that you practise outside of the studio and so Charles doesn't really get to hear your more casual singing, not an embellished performance for the audience.

As quietly as he can, he makes his way towards you. Charles casually leans against the doorframe, your back turned to him as you continue playing the piano. He barely bites back the smile that creeps onto his face whenever you effortlessly sing the high notes - they are difficult for professionals and yet you execute them so cleanly, they appear almost too easy.

The lyrics haunt him but in a truly delicious way. A particular note of sincerity in your voice makes the words stick to him like rain does to a reckless passerby. Sure, they will slip away, although not before drenching him; their vital piece will forever lie with him.

When the song comes to an end, Charles (without thinking twice) gives you a hefty applause. The surprise makes you almost fall off the chair.

"Shit, you scared me!" you yell at him. It takes a couple deep breaths and your boyfriend's apologies, to collect yourself. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugs, suddenly realizing that he wasn't supposed to hear even one note of the song. "Pretty much all of it."

Your expression must not be joyful as Charles resumes his apologies and poor attempts at excuses. Suddenly, you cut him off. "How'd you like it?"

For a moment, he only hums and mindlessly knocks at the doorframe, looking for the right words.

"I loved it," he confesses. A strange tension in his voice proves he's telling the truth. "It's a beautiful song."

"Good," you answer absentmindedly. Quietly, you nod to yourself before looking back at Charles, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "It would really suck if you hated a song about yourself, you know?"

His eyes grow wide and Charles seems to forget about blinking for a good minute. Judging by the changes in his expression, you can tell the exact thought process he's experiencing: realizing you've written a song about him, joy caused by that, remembering the lyrics and finally taking them personally.

The more observant fans might notice a new addition to his helmet: "Claire de Lune" written in elegant lettering.

George Russell

Common sense might tell you that a race car driver must have no fear. And that would be correct, although quite imprecise. They must have no fear on track, yes, but daily life is quite different from racing, isn't it? Or maybe George is discovering a range of emotions he has not known before.

Your relationship is fresh but that isn't to say it's not serious. The weight of the connection the two of you share is a major part of the reason why George has been dead set on taking things slow. The other part is him knowing what media circus will play out once the news breaks. It's hard to blame him for wanting to keep at least some aspect of his life private, especially one that means so much to him.

As understanding as you are, George's apprehensiveness is tiring. You perfectly understand his reasoning and to some degree share the sentiment but at the same time, you are just somebody in love - you itch to scream it to the whole world. Or, at the very least, share a picture of the two of you. Both of you haven't been middle-schoolers for quite some time now, so why act like ones?

George, like the supportive boyfriend he is, loves to see you in your element. He watches the music videos, yet, but he much prefers the dance practice videos, where you're visibly enjoying each second of the choreography. Therefore, when you upload a new dance video for your song, he's probably the first person to play it.

It's a catchy tune that makes even the most boring people want to dance a little. With his head moving to the rhythm, George doesn't focus much on the lyrics until something in the second verse catches his attention:

So used to hiding We built our kingdom around The right timing

The lines, understandably, hit a little too close to home to be a pure coincidence. Now suspicious, George replays the video - this time, he's actually listening to the words instead of focusing on your dancing. Any hesitation that he's the true recipient of the song is gone with the first line of "Say you want me". The desperation in your voice is simply too candid to be just an act for the sake of the performance.

With the song loudly playing on a loop, George is scrolling through his phone's gallery in search of the best pictures of the two of you. He can't help but mouth the lyrics along with your singing, only to randomly giggle as the thought once again settles - it's about him.

Your phone can't stop vibrating. The notifications are coming nonstop. What on Earth happened? Upon opening Instagram, the mystery is solved. The internet seemed to be set on fire when George posted a series of pictures of the two of you with a caption that earned a giddy chuckle from you: "Setting us in motion".

Max Verstappen

Max and you both understand how much support can change. Sometimes just knowing that this other person is out there, watching and cheering, can change everything. As such, the two of you try to attend each other's events as much as you can. Unfortunately, the universe isn't always kind and you end up on the opposite ends of the world. The only support you can offer then is watching the live-streamed event - just like Max is doing right now.

He's sitting in his driver's room in Singapore, while you're at an award show in the USA. Quite the distance. There's something unbearably humbling about having to watch your performance like most of the world, when Max is, without a doubt, not most of the world.

In the back of his mind, Max is still thinking about the conversation he had with you earlier. Although he never misses your performances, you made it a point to tell him to watch this one. In your own words, he's supposed to look out for something fun, like a detail that will make this show different from the others. So as though he is a hawk, or more of a vulture, Max is hyperanalizing everything that's happening on the screen. He's not about to miss your little surprise.

The song begins and as much as he wants to enjoy watching you in your element, Max is a missile on a mission. Nothing specific seems to catch his eye but that t-shirt you're wearing...

Max knows it all too well. Theoretically, it's his t-shirt but considering you wear it more often than he does, it's practically yours. Now it's styled to fit the concept and image of your bandmates but the colour, the logo, the number, are all unmistakeable. Considering how much you're touching the article of clothing, compared to other dancers, he's convinced he's found what he was meant to look for.

Before he can wonder why you've chosen to wear his t-shirt for your performance, it's you who gives him the answer through the lyrics:

I feel like for the first time I am not faking Fingers on my buttons and now you're playing Master of anticipation, don't you keep it all to yourself

Max Verstappen doesn't get flustered but if he did, he'd be beyond flustered right now. The realization hits him like a derailed train - the song that everyone has been obsessed with through the summer and that has pretty obvious sexual lyrics is actually about him.

And if he did get flustered, the emotion would be rather short-lived, giving way to pride. After all, the core meaning of the song is that he's a generous lover, right? Clearly, he's been taking good care of his girlfriend.

Now, each sung line of "Just the touch of your love" makes Max all the more frustrated that the two of you are so far apart. He's earned his title of "Master of anticipation" and he intends to keep it.

[starsinthesky5]

drunk in love || joe burrow x reader

description: after a whirlwind of a few months, Joe finds himself being more open with the public about your relationship, which takes you by surprise.

a/n: im glad i could get this up in time! i think the tag needs to be filled with more positivity and the usual joey b content. we can push through :) 

requested by the amazing and extremely talented @joeys-babe, you gave me great inspo! i have also learned that i loveeee writing little flashbacks into my fics just to add more context to the situation. when I’m writing it’s like i'm painting on a blank canvas, and i'm going wherever the brush takes me :) 

warnings: smuttttt, language, angst

word count: 7.7 k

——————————————————————

The sounds of enthusiastic fans echoed as you and Joe arrived at the Fifth Third arena for Joe’s podcast taping. Joe had been asked by the Kelce Brothers to be a guest on their live podcast recording of New Heights since they were in Cincinnati, and who better to have on than the QB1? And Joe being the polite and respectful man he is, agreed to do it. You were a bit surprised he was willing to go out in front of a big crowd of people like this and just talk. He rarely did podcasts or lengthy interviews because of the anxiety they brought him and he didn’t like to share his personal life in front of thousands of people, so you were watching him like a hawk the whole night to make sure he was doing okay. 

Right now, you both were sitting in the locker room while the brothers were doing the game portion of their podcast. You were snacking on some pretzels, offering Joe some since he hadn’t eaten anything since this afternoon, but he refused. 

“Joe, you have to eat something,” you say while pushing a bag of pretzels towards him.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbled while looking at the monitor to see what was going on in the arena. 

“I refuse to believe that. We’re going to Woodys after and we both know that you drinking on an empty stomach will cause carnage,” you giggle expecting him to laugh as well, but he continues to stare at the monitor, seemingly lost in thought. 

You look down and notice that he’s bobbing his left leg up and down and is picking at his fingers, an instant signal that his anxiety was slowly creeping in. 

You quickly place your snack down, scooch your chair closer to him, and place your hand on his thigh, giving it a soft squeeze. He felt the light touch of your hand and stopped bouncing his leg before looking over at you. 

His eyes met yours and you could easily tell that he was getting anxious by the way they turned a shade of deep blue. “Are you alright J?” you ask. 

Joe stays silent for a few seconds before letting out a sigh, “Just a little nervous,” he quietly says causing your face to drop. “I haven’t done this in a while and I don’t wanna get weird out there if they ask anything specific, you know?”. 

Joe was referring to getting weird if they asked any questions about his personal life. He never talks about his life behind closed doors and rarely talks about you in respect of your privacy. He was worried that they’d ask him about you or your relationship and wouldn’t know what to say or how to answer them. He never really threw the “girlfriend” tag around many people for quite a few reasons. One was that it was mostly implied that you were together, another being that he didn’t want people who may not have known about your relationship to bombard you with questions about him. He kept your relationship carefully locked away because it was the most important thing in the world to him and he was afraid that the world would rip it to shreds if you opened the door a little too much. He wanted to talk about you all the time, even telling you that he might not even be able to stop once he starts. But he just never knew when or how to talk about your relationship without making you sensitive to public discourse.

“You won’t get weird Joe,” you say as you rub his thigh. “It’s okay to be a little nervous, especially because this is out of your comfort zone. You are going to do great and I am so proud of you for doing this,” you say. “I’m gonna be right there, front row on the side. Orlando will be up there with you too. And I know Jason and Travis will respect your boundaries. Maybe they’ll just keep it all about ball,”.

He nods and grabs your hand and gives it a gentle kiss. “Thank you for being here,” he says, finally flashing you a genuine smile. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you say while pressing a kiss on his cheek. Joe puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you in for a warm hug. He knew he’d be fine out there but couldn’t help but get a little nervous when he realized all eyes would be on him. Sure, in a football game, all 50,000+ eyes are on him, but that never bothered him because the game was his shield. 

“If you feel flustered, give me a look and I’ll cause a distraction for you to run away,” you giggle against his neck. 

He laughs and presses a kiss on your forehead, “My knight in shining armor as usual,”. 

A few minutes and a handful of pretzels later, you’re sitting on the side of the stage while Jason and Travis introduce Joe. The crowd erupts as they say Joe’s name and the song choice for his introduction makes you laugh like a hyena. “Get the Gat” was playing, a nod to the era that truly started it all for Joe. He was scanning the crowd for you as he walked toward the stage, eventually catching you in the front row, just like you said, in your stunning white dress that highlighted your most precious features. 

You gave him two thumbs up and mouthed “You got this,”. He gives you a big smile before walking up onto the stage and greeting the brothers. 

Things were going pretty smoothly for him. They were talking to him about his injury and recovery, his questionable tweets about aliens that got the entire crowd laughing their asses off, and some playful football + rivalry talk between Travis and Joe. He seemed incredibly relaxed up there and you felt relieved, until they changed the subject to the one thing that Joe was worried about. 

“So enough about ball,” Travis said. “What has Joey B been up to this off season. Where you been, Who you been with?”. 

“Uh oh,” you whispered. 

Joe laughed softly before saying “Just hanging around. Obviously training and getting better, some UFC events here and there, some boy's trips, spending time with family, but mostly spending time with my girlfriend,”. 

Your eyes widen at his words and your mouth slightly falls open. He just mentioned you in front of god knows how many people, and so casually? What the actual fuck. 

“Ohhh,” Travis smiles. “Is your lovely lady here tonight?” He asks. 

“Yeah, she’s right there,” Joe smiles and points over to you, causing literally everyone in the arena to turn and look at you. 

“Ayeee,” the brothers say in unison as the camera points over to you. 

Your cheeks turn tomato red as everyone starts cheering and waving at you, and you flash a big smile in return even though you were completely freaking out internally.

“Yep, that's her. She’s the best person in the entire world. I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without her support and love,” Joe says as everyone turns back to face him. “She really knows exactly how to deal with me when I’m too in my head and always shows up for me no matter what happens. I owe a lot of how I am and how I handle things, to her” he adds.

“Awww,” said Jason. 

“Especially with this injury. I seriously don’t think I would’ve been able to get through it without her. I was in a really tough spot, mentally and physically, and she really stepped up for me,” Joe says. You feel a shift in his demeanor when he says that. From relaxed and positive, to now a little tense and serious. 

The wrist injury took a toll on Joe, and unfortunately your relationship. It took everyone by surprise when it happened as Joe was just hitting his stride after recovering from the calf strain. This was supposed to be his year and when that got taken away from him, he shut down. You tried your hardest to be there for him, and he appreciated you so much. But he needed to figure stuff out on his own which caused a bit of tension between you both. And all of it got too much for you to handle; you had to deal with his emotions, your own emotions, and help him recover on top of 100 other things that were being thrown your way. 

Little arguments became common as they always would stem at the most unexpected times. Sometimes they would happen when you would check in on how he was feeling, they’d happen during a happy moment where one of you said something that didn’t land correctly, and sometimes when he would come and apologize to you for snapping at you, but you would become a child and remain stubborn even though you wanted nothing more than to curl up in his arms and let everything out. 

Flashback to December 

It had been a few weeks since Joe got surgery on his wrist. Ever since then, he’d been acting strangely and it was driving you insane. He was watching some film all day in his office so that he could help out at practice, so you’d hardly have seen him all day. 

You got off the couch and decided to bring him a snack, some strawberries and bananas, and made your way up the stairs. 

You made your way into his office, making sure that you weren’t getting in the way of anything. He was rewinding some footage with his left hand, but was struggling to do so since his dominant hand was in a cast. 

“Here, let me help,” you say as you place the bowl of fruit down in front of him.

“It’s okay, I got it,” he says trying to grab the mouse, but he was too late as you already grabbed it and fixed it for him. You looked over at him and smiled, but in return got a loud sigh and an eye roll. 

“Gee, I was just trying to help,” you replied. 

“And I didn’t ask for any,” he mumbled, slightly irritated. Your face dropped at his tone but you decided not to push it.

“I brought you some fruit. You skipped out on lunch so I thought you’d be hungry,”.

“Thanks,” he says as he pushes the bowl to the side and goes back to the film. 

You stand there for a few moments, debating whether or not you should leave him alone or talk to him. You decided to talk to him because this mood he’d been in was not welcomed. 

“Is there something wrong? Does your arm hurt?” You ask as you rub his shoulder. 

He immediately slams the mouse to pause the film and looks up. “What’s wrong is that you won’t let me watch the film for this week. I told you I'm not hungry and you’re bothering me,” he snaps.

You’re taken aback by his sudden anger, “I was just trying to help, Joe-”.

“And how many times have I said, I don’t need it,” he spit out. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step back. “I’m sorry, I- I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“I’m fine” He said, slightly shouting as he looked back over to you. 

The tears in your eyes made their way down your cheeks as you felt more angry than sad. His attitude was unfucking called for as you were just trying to check in on him. 

“You know what, fine. I’m done asking you if you’re okay and if you need something. I get that you’re hurt. I get that this is hard for you. But do not for one second think that I’m just going to sit here and take this bullshit. You’ve been acting like this for weeks, on and off. And quite frankly, it’s giving me whiplash,” you unload as more tears stream down your face.

“Y/N-,” he interrupts.

“No. Listen to me. If me helping you is bothering you, If I am bothering you, just say the word and I’ll stop. You don’t have to tell me how you’re feeling, and I’ll just stop asking. I love you, you know that. But I’m done acting like this is okay,” you spit out, tears running down your cheeks faster than a trackstar running a mile.  

He stays silent for a few seconds so you take that as a response and nod your head. You leave his office, making your way into the bedroom and slamming the door shut. He immediately felt bad for yelling at you and making you cry. He fell back into his chair and looked up at the ceiling, thinking about how shitty he was. 

You lay down on your side of the bed, crying into your pillow. A million thoughts flooding your head, and a million emotions flowing through your body. You felt bad for him, you really really felt bad for him. But you started to feel bad for yourself because of how he was acting around you. Did you do something to make him act like this? He wouldn’t talk to you much about how he was feeling, so you were in limbo. 

You curled up into your pillow, a few tears still falling down your face as you heard the door open. Joe walked in and saw you laying on the bed, immediately feeling like shit because he did this to you. He walked over to the bed, crawling onto his side and gently rubbing your arm. 

“Y/N?” he asked. 

You didn’t look over at him and remained facing the windows. 

He let out a sigh before saying, “I deserve that.” 

“Listen, I am so fucking sorry for that. You didn’t do anything and I took my feelings out on you which was totally uncalled for. It’s just, I have alot going through my mind right now. But that is no excuse for me to do that to you, and you have every right to be mad. I’ve been putting you through alot lately and you’re just trying to help,”.

You turned over to face him and moved up. “So then talk to me, Joe?”. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay. I’m here, I’m always here,” you say as you wipe your tears. 

“I know. And I’m so sorry. I just don’t want to burden you with all my feelings,” he says.

“You could never. We’re in this together, we have been since we first met. I want you to talk to me whenever you need to. Please, do not keep your feelings bottled up like that,”.

“You’re right,” he says as he pulls you into his arms, his hand rubbing your back for comfort. “I am so so so sorry for treating you like shit. You have been nothing but helpful and patient since the surgery and my dumbass can’t seem to fathome that,” he says.

“You’re not a dumbass,” you say as you look up at him. “You just have alot going on in there,” you say as you move your hand into his hair. “Just let me in and let me help you figure it out,” you whisper.

So that’s exactly what he did. He unloaded all of his heavy feelings, self doubt, and fear onto you. And instead of running out of fear or anxiety, you stayed. You stayed and you helped him just as you said you would. 

End of Flashback 

You were holding your breaths around each other for a little bit, but luckily you got through it. It was a bumpy few months, but in the end, you got through it together and came out the other side stronger like you always do. 

“Seems like you got yourself a great lady,” Jason says, snapping you back to the present.

“I sure do,” Joe laughs while meeting your eyes, setting off butterflies in your belly. 

“So what have you guys been up to, if you don’t mind sharing? I think the fans would love to hear it,” Travis says as the fans begin to cheer.

Joe lets out a laugh and runs his fingers through his hair, “Yeah, why not. Well, we’ve gone on a few vacations, watched a bunch of movies we’ve been meaning to for a while, built some legos, and she’s taught me how to bake,”. 

The crowd lets out a laugh as he says that last thing. You were surprised at how he was being an open book right now and you didn’t know if you should be concerned at this newfound openness or ecstatic, but you were sure as hell enjoying it in the moment.

“You heard it here first, Joe Burrow knows how to bake!” They announced to the crowd. 

“Yup, it’s really not as hard as it looks,” Joe shrugs.

You let out a laugh when as says that. It really wasn’t that hard, but Joe was certainly not a pro baker as he was implying. 

Flashback to a few weeks ago 

It was a rainy evening in Cincy today, causing you and Joe to postpone your plans to walk around the neighborhood this evening. You were bored out of your mind, contemplating if you should take a nap or do something productive, but nothing sounded fun until an ad popped up on your phone for new cake pans which set off a lightbulb in your head.

“Cinnamon Rolls!” you said out loud as you just got an idea of what you could do for the evening. 

You quickly walked over to the kitchen and started pulling out everything you needed to make your famous Cinnamon Rolls, which happened to be one of Joe’s favorites, but Pumpkin Pie remained number 1. Joe was probably playing video games or watching something upstairs so you’d get to surprise him later with the delicious dessert. 

A few minutes later, you were in the zone and were starting to make the dough when you heard Joe come down the stairs. 

“Hey Babe, whatcha doing?” He says, a slight bounce in his step. He must be feeling good today, and rightfully so. He deserved to feel loose and cheerful after the past few months. 

“It’s a secret,” you giggle as you start making the liquid mixture. 

He raises his brows at you before examining the surroundings, eventually putting the puzzle together and realizing you are making Cinnamon Rolls.  

“Well, Can I help?” He asks as he walks over and hovers behind you, placing his chin on your shoulder. 

You stop mixing the Milk and Butter and look back at him, “You want to help me bake?”.

“Why are you saying it like that?” He asks as he begins pressing warm kisses on your neck. 

You stay silent for a few moments before taking advantage of his offer, “No reason. Here, let me show you how to make the dry mixture,” you say as he flashes you a big smile.

You spend a few minutes getting Joe situated with all the dry ingredients and then go back to your task. You peek over at him every few moments and although he’s making a huge mess, he seems to be doing just fine. Once you both were done with your mixtures, Joe insisted that he would make the dough in the mixer. So once again, you taught him how to use the mixer and left him to it as you started making the Cinnamon Sugar Filling. He was doing very well for someone who’s dominant hand is still not at 100%.

“Joe, this looks great!” you say as you look over his shoulder, rubbing it as you inspect the dough. 

“Yeah?” he asks, feeling proud that he was doing good for his first time baking.

“Mhmmm, just the right consistency. Very impressive for a rookie,” You tease. 

The next half hour passes by as you finish prepping the rolls. You roll out the dough and spread the cinnamon mixture across the sheet and Joe helps you roll it back up to cut the buns out. You place them in the fridge to rise and Joe takes responsibility for making the icing, so you pull over a barstool and watch him figure it out. 

“You’re doing great babe,” You smile as he begins mixing the ingredients while carefully looking at the recipe. 

“This isn’t so bad,” He says looking back up at you. “You wanna taste it? I’m almost done,”.

“Okay,” you say as he dips his finger into the icing and puts his finger out to you. A huge smirk appears on his face once you realize what he is implying. 

You pull his finger closer to your mouth and make direct eye contact for a few seconds before wrapping your lips around the sugary tip. You swirl your tongue around his finger, taking in all of the sweet icing. You both still hold eye contact, which makes you feel hot all around as you know how you are making him feel by doing this. A few seconds later, You take his finger out of your mouth and give him the same smirk he gave you.

“Was it good?” he teases. 

“Soooo good,” you purred. “Very warm, sweet, and delicious,” you say as Joe walks over to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you off the barstool, causing you to let out a squeal. “What are you doing?” you giggle.

“How long do the rolls take to rise?” he asks as he lifts you onto the messy counter, flour now covering your sweatpants. 

“About an hour. Why?” you ask as he starts to kiss your neck.

“Perfect. I think I need an hour to eat my favorite dessert,” He whispers in your ear before rubbing your upper thigh. 

You don’t follow what he’s saying, “I didn’t make pumpkin pie silly,”.  

“I’m not talking about pumpkin pie,” He says while coming back into your view, his eyes filled with hunger and desire, and his fingers untying the strings of your sweatpants. 

End of Flashback 

You were incredibly smiley and cheery for the rest of the recording and kept playing back everything Joe said about you. It warmed your heart that he felt a little more comfortable opening the door, even if it was just the slightest bit, to show fans your love for each other. But you were so curious as to what changed his mind. A million thoughts were filling your head, and it also didn’t help that he looked so fucking hot. Although he was wearing a comfy, laid-back fit, he looked mouthwatering and you were trying so hard not to jump at him. The extra few pounds of muscle he gained from his training this year was showing and that messy bedhead look he was sporting was filling your head with unholy thoughts the entire time. 

Once Joe had wrapped up his appearance, you headed back to the locker room area to find him. 

He was talking to some Bearcats coaches when you found him. No stress was apparent on his face and he looked like he was just fine. You let out a relaxed sigh as you leaned on the door, letting him have his conversation without any interruptions, but he immediately felt your presence and turned around. He mumbled something to the coaches and then they walked away. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say while moving off the door.

“Yes I did,” he says as he walks over to you, immediately pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a deep and thorough kiss. One hand cupping your face and the other sliding down your waist. You both were literally making out in the locker room and anyone could walk in at any time, but he didn’t care. He pulls away after a minute, leaving you a little breathless. 

“Cherry Lip Gloss,” He says. “My favorite,”. 

Joe loved your Cherry Lip Gloss. You remembered the moment when you both had your first kiss, he immediately pulled away from you and you didn’t know why until he told you how amazing you tasted and he had to let you know. 

Flashback to a few years ago 

You and Joe just got back to your apartment after your bowling date downtown. He parked the car in the parking lot and you both were sitting inside, wishing that the night would never end. He turned over to face you, a million thoughts flooding his head. A few being that you looked absolutely enchanting and he really really liked you. You both had been on a few dates so far, each one better than the last, and tonight felt like a dream. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked as he stared deeply into your eyes. 

“Best date ever,” you smiled. You were feeling a little nervous after tonight's date, only because you realized that you really liked him and that it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment feeling, and you didn’t know if he really felt the same way. Was he just looking for a girl to have on his side who would take care of him during the season and be good enough to hook up with? Or did he want a girl that he could have a genuine and meaningful relationship with?

He let out a deep breath and said, “You look really pretty by the way,”. 

A blush crept up your face, “Thank You,”. 

He kept staring into your eyes as you both remained silent. He moved closer to you but you couldn’t process it because you were caught up in your own thoughts. Was he waiting for you to make a move? You both haven’t kissed yet and every date felt like it would end with a kiss, but it never did. You were all in your head about how he felt about you and you didn’t know what to do, so you thought that it would be better to just go inside and avoid the awkward moment. 

“I should probably go,” you say while staring into his deep blue eyes, but before you can grab your stuff, Joe leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. You stay absolutely still for a few seconds before he suddenly pulls away. 

The blank look on his face fills your stomach with anxiety. Did your breath stink? Did he not enjoy it? Was it a mistake? You felt like hiding in a corner somewhere and never coming out. 

“Your lips,” he says. “Is that Cherry?”. 

You pause for a few seconds and say, “Yeah,”. 

“I love Cherry,” is all he says before pulling you back over to him, and completely attacking your lip with sloppy and eager kisses. You feel him grin into the kiss which immediately gets rid of your wandering thoughts. 

“You taste like love,” he says in between kisses. 

End of flashback 

He presses another kiss on your lips which snaps you back to the present. “You did great out there,” you told him. “They loved you,”.

“Yeah, it felt natural and easy,” he says as he leans back in for another kiss. 

Before you could ask him about his sudden change of heart about wanting to not talk about your relationship, a team member came over to tell you both that you’re allowed to leave and go over to the bar and that everyone would join you there in a little bit. Joe nods, wrappinh his arm around your waist, and leading you both out to the car. This newfound PDA was a little weird for you as you were walking through crowds of strangers and Joe seemed to not care. You decided not to push the subject just yet, it would be better to wait till you were alone so you could figure out what was going through his head. 

The after-party had a stereotypical College party vibe to it, and it being in a College Bar was definitely adding to the mix. Loud music and laughter, numerous cans of beer scattered across the room, and groups of people playing darts or beer pong. You felt like you were transported back to College and were drunk on nostalgia, and maybe something more. 

Joe was standing next to you, one hand firmly gripping your waist, and a beer can in the other, as you were extremely focused on the game of darts in front of you both.

“Andddd, Bullseye!” you yell as the dart hits the middle of the board. 

“Great Job, Y/N. I taught you well,” He says as you feel his hand migrate down to your ass, giving it a soft squeeze. 

“That you did,” You say as you look back up at him. Here he goes again with the PDA, not that you were upset at it. You loved it, but you were also just as confused. You watched him take another sip of his beer before breaking off to go greet a few more people. You watched as he was conversing with a group of people before he looked over at you and motioned for you to come over. 

“And this is my girlfriend Y/N,” he says as you join his side, his hand once again around your waist. You had no idea who he was introducing you to and were even more surprised that he was just tossing around the “girlfriend” tag so casually in front of people that he seems to have met for the first time. A few minutes later, you wrap up your conversation and decide to talk to Joe about what all this was about. 

“Hey Joe?” you say to get his attention. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” he responds.

“You wanna over there for a bit? I need to talk to you about something,” you say as you point over to the semi-secluded barstools in the back of the bar. He nods and you lead him over to the stools and sit down with your drinks. 

“Is everything alright?” he asks as he rubs your thigh. 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you say as you place your hand on his. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,”.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he questions. 

“Its just, before the podcast you were getting nervous about them potentially asking you about us, and they did,”.

“Yeaahh,” he drags out as he nods his head.

“And when they did, you seemed to be just fine and were like an open book. Not to mention the out-of-the-blue PDA you’ve been showing all night,” you giggle. “I just wanna know, why the sudden change of heart? You know I don’t mind not being so open and public with our relationship, I hope I didn’t make you feel like you had to say or do something,”. 

Joe looked deeply into your eyes for a few seconds before responding. “These past few months have been pretty hard for me, and us. You know that best,”. You nod in return, now feeling a little queasy at the mention of the rough moments you had. 

“And it gave me a lot of time to think about life,” he adds as he interlocks his fingers with yours. 

“I’m tired of acting like you’re not the reason why I can do most of this, aside from actually playing football. You always know exactly how to handle me when things get too chaotic, you know how to calm me down, you help me with literally everything, but most importantly, you put up with all the bullshit that being with me brings,”. 

“Joe,” you whisper. 

“Wait, I’m not finished. You’re the most important person in my life, and it’s time I make that known to everyone. I realized that I have no reason to be worried about what others will think, I love you more than anything and people need to know that. These past few months have shown me that I need you more than I need anything and the thought of you not being by my side freaks me the fuck out. Fuck their opinion. Fuck their comments. I love you and I chose you. Opening the door just a little will not hurt and if anyone has a problem with it, screw them,”. 

You felt like crying as he said all of this to you. Not tears of sadness, but tears of relief. You were relieved that his feelings towards you hadn’t changed, as odd as that sounds. There were a few negative thoughts about your relationship that piled up in the back of your mind over the past few months, but you never confronted them out of fear. The injury did a number on you both and you were scared that you’d lose this special thing you had to something that wasn’t in your control. 

“I love you so much, Joe. I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. 

“I love you more. And good, I think if you did I wouldn’t know how to function,” he says as he pulls you off the barstool and closer to him, slowly pressing his lips against yours. His lips tasted like your cherry lip gloss and beer, a familiar mix that you would often call ‘drunk in love’. He told you during your first kiss that the cherry lipgloss you had on tasted like love, and the beer was already intoxicating itself. A mix of both felt like you were well, drunk in love.

You were caught up in a heated moment in the dimly lit corner of the bar, not caring who saw you or who cared what you were doing. Your tongues tangled in your mouth as his hand navigated to your waist, holding you tightly. He lightly bit your bottom lip, causing you to moan into the kiss. His hands continued to wander around your hips, slowly moving down to your ass. He gives it a few squeezes, pushing you deeper into him. You pulled away from his lips and said, “Do you wanna get out of here? I’m all for being a little more open, but I think we should finish this one away from public view,” you wink. 

He playfully shakes his head and lets out a laugh, “Deal,”. 

He grabs your hand tightly and leads you through the bar, giving it a few squeezes as you make your way outside. 

“We didn’t tell anyone that we were leaving,” you said as he led you down the street to the Car. 

“We’ll be fine,” he reassures you as he opens the car door for you.

He gets you situated before going around and getting inside the driver’s seat. You couldn’t wait to get home and finish what started in the bar. Once he got on the highway his hand navigated to your upper thigh, rubbing it up and down, softly caressing your exposed skin. You were already on edge from your heated makeout before and his hand being this close to where you needed him most was driving you insane. 

“Did I mention that you looked absolutely sexy tonight? This white dress is really making me feel things,” Joe says. 

“You’re such a tease,” you giggle. 

“Hm?” He questioned, acting oblivious. 

“You know what you’re doing, Burrow. Got me all flustered from earlier and now this,” you say as you pat his hand that’s on your thigh. 

“How did I get you flustered?”.

You sit up in your seat and say, “Well for starters, you looked like walking sex tonight, even if it’s a laid-back fit kinda day. Something about you in all black makes me insanely horny. Secondly, your talking about me caught me off guard but my stomach was fluttering the entire time. And then that makeout earlier at the arena and in the bar? Yeah, I’m this close to literally passing out,”. You fall back into your seat for dramatic effect as Joe playfully rolls his eyes. 

“Well then, maybe I should do something about it,” he says while looking over at you for a second.

“What are you proposing?”. 

“Just lay back and relax,” he says. So you do as he says, knowing exactly where this would lead, especially because it wasn’t the first time.

His hand moves to part your legs, and then slowly moves higher up your thigh until his fingers are teasing the edge of your panties. He moved them to the side as you let out a quiet whimper because of the newly exposed skin meeting the cool air of the car. His fingers parted your folds, finding your wetness and sliding easily inside you. The feeling was intense, the rhythm slow and gentle as he explored the depths of your desire. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his hand, needing more of his touch.

“Joe, Fuck,” you moaned as you felt pleasure overcome you. 

His fingers moved in and out of you, a familiar sensation building with each stroke. Heat and pure ecstasy were coursing through your body, your breath coming in short gasps as you reached the edge of pleasure. Joe’s thumb found your clit, circling the sensitive bud and sending you fully over the edge.

“Ohhh,” you moaned as you threw your head back into the headrest. 

You spent a few minutes catching your breath and he slid his fingers out of your core and up to his mouth, cleaning up the mess on his hand. “Sweet,” was all he said, flashing you a smile. 

You laugh and say, “Can’t wait to get home, It’s your turn,”. 

He looked over at you, pure lust in his eyes as he gripped the wheel strongly and pushed on the gas pedal a little harder. Once you got home, Joe parked in the garage and quickly pulled you out of the car, eagerly leading you through the halls of your home, not even giving you a moment to take your shoes off. 

“Joe, slow down,” you giggle, slightly holding him back so he stops. 

He turns around and stares into your eyes for a few seconds, then eyeing you up and down, before tossing you over his shoulders and leading you up the stairs. “Boy, someone is excited,” you laugh. He leads you into your bedroom and gently tosses you down against the silk sheets of your bed before slipping your heels off. He then kneels in between your thighs and captures your lips in a messy kiss. 

You slide your hands into his messy curls and pull him closer, if that was even humanly possible, as he starts to fiddle with the straps of your dress. A few minutes later, both your clothes are now on the floor and you are back to making out, ignoring the fact that his boner was poking your thigh. You would never get enough of his lips, so soft and plump, very easy to get lost in. He pulls away and presses a few sloppy kisses around your neck before moving down your body. 

You stop him before he goes further, “Wait. I told you that it was your turn next,”. 

“You don’t have to, Y/N,” he smiles. 

“Mmmm, too bad,” you say as you move out from under him, allowing him to lie back against the headboard. Once he gets settled, you straddle his hips and press a few kisses around his face, then kiss your way down his perfectly sculpted body. You reach his hard-on and wrap your hand around it, giving it a few pumps as pre-cum was beading at the tip. 

You looked up at him, making intense eye contact, as you wrapped your soft lips around the tip of his cock, feeling him twitch in pleasure. You start to move your head back and forth, going deeper each time as sounds of pleasure escape Joe’s lips. 

“Shit, you feel so good,”. 

You continued to bob your head up and down his shaft until you felt him getting closer. Your hands gripped his thighs as you took him deeper and deeper, nearly choking up. His breathing became more erratic as you sucked him harder and faster. He slid his hands into your hair as started to buck his hips into your mouth, a sure sign he was about to cum. 

“Fuckk,” he moaned as you felt hot spurts of his cum filling your mouth, making sure to swallow every drop. You slowly release him from your mouth and look up at him with nothing but love and adoration. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper, wiping the spit and salvia off of your mouth.

“And you’re amazing,” he says as he pulls you back on top of him. You let out a soft laugh before kissing the tip of his perfectly sculpted nose. “You still up for a little more?” you ask him.

A huge grin appears on his face, “Always,” he whispers as he moves closer, once again kissing you passionately. You break away to put each of your legs around him and he grabs your waist while moving down to lie back against the bed all the way. You leaned down to press a final kiss on his lips before lining up his cock with your slick entrance. You slide down his length, soft moans leaving both your lips as the feeling of fullness feels like you’re coming home. 

You begin to move your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm. Your hands rested on his chest and your fresh manicure left a few marks as you dug your fingers into his tan skin. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel so fucking good,”. His hands moved up and gripped your waist, helping you move back and forth to ease the soreness that you were definitely feeling by this point. 

“Yeah,” you moaned.

“Faster Baby,” he whispered. You nodded and picked up the pace, riding him faster and harder. You could feel the tension building in his body, his muscles tensing beneath you as you moved with a steady, relentless pace. Joe started to buck his hips into your slick lower half, making you throw your head back in pleasure. Your breathy moans and sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room. 

“Shit,” you moaned as he continued to pound into you. 

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. You looked back down at him and smiled, he never missed a chance to praise you. He looked absolutely fucked out; his lips were red and swollen from the many kisses you shared, his hair askew, and a content grin on his face. The next few minutes passed by blissfully as you continued to ride him into oblivion. You leaned down, pressing your breasts against his chest, and started to bounce back onto his cock while moaning sweet nothings into his ear. His hands wrap around your back, pushing you closer and closer to his warm body. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he moaned. 

You whimpered in response as heat was building in your belly. He picked up his pace and continued to pound into your core as he felt your walls start to tighten around him. The pleasure became too much for you, so you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your screams. 

“I’m cumming, Fuck,” he moaned. You felt his hands around your waist again, tightly gripping your plush skin, as you felt him shoot his load into your core. 

“Y/N,” he groaned.

You lifted your head out of his shoulder and pulled him in for a sloppy and needy kiss to stifle his moans. You were once again lost in his lips so you didn’t even realize it but he somehow managed to flip you over so now you were laying back against the bed. He moved one of your legs around his waist and ruthlessly thrusted into your core to help you find your pleasure. Your whole body shaking as he pushed you deeper and deeper into the bed which each thrust.

“Come on Baby,” he groaned. You were so fucked out and the alcohol from earlier was finally in full effect so you had zero thoughts in your head. You just felt your boyfriend pounding into your core and the pleasure building inside your sore body. 

“Mmph, Joe,” you whined as you felt the increasing wetness between you both. Breathy moans escaped your lips as you finally felt the rubber band in your belly snap, causing waves of intense and deep pleasure to wash over you.

“Fuckkk,” you whimpered. Joe gently collapsed on top of you, making sure he didn’t crush you with his weight. He pressed a few kisses on your neck as you remained in your high.

“Joeee, Fuck, you’re so good. It’s so good,” you moaned as your orgasm came over you. You spent a few minutes coming down from your intense high and held Joe close against your body. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, telling you repeatedly how much he loved you like it was a sacred prayer. 

You felt him press a kiss on your cheek before slowly sliding out of you, causing you to shrudder at the loss of contact. He went into the bathroom to grab a towel to clean you up before getting in bed; your body was too sore and tired to get up to wash off the sweat and cum.

“Thank you,” you said as he turned off the lights and got into bed next to you. 

“No need to thank me, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“God damn, that was a workout,” you laughed as you turned over to face him. 

“My favorite workout,” he smiled as he pulled you into his side. You rest your head on his bare chest as he plays with your messy hair for a few moments. 

You looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but love and warmth. “I love you, Joe,”.

He moved his hand down to your face, cupping the side and caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I love you so much, baby. I’m glad I get to show the world how much you mean to me. It’s you and me, forever,” he says before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss on your lips. 

“Always and forever,” you whisper against his lips. You moved back down to his chest and snuggled closer to him. You look back up for a second and see Joe falling asleep, a smile still present on his face. He was happy, you were happy. Everything was perfect. 

—The End—

[heavyhitterheaux]

No Judgments

See Me Through You Blurb

Synopsis: You and Joe do the 'We listen and don't judge' TikTok challenge 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a few gorgeous anons 💕

Series Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

After wiping your mouth and rinsing it out with mouthwash from your sudden episode of morning sickness, you made your way back into the bedroom where your husband was still peacefully sleeping.

You attempted to climb back into the bed without waking him up, but feeling the weight shift made him flutter his eyes open. Joe had never been a really deep sleeper, but since he found out you were pregnant, usually he wakes up at the smallest noise and it left you surprised this morning when he didn’t feel you get out of bed the first time.

“Baby, you okay?” He asked as he pulled you towards him so he could wrap his arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“Your children won't let me be great and made me throw up again.” You quietly answered and you had now grown frustrated since it seemed like the morning sickness wasn't only happening in the morning, but throughout the day.

“You want me to make you some tea?”

“Yes, please. I'm miserable.”

Joe then placed his hand on your belly and began to rub small circles on it as he noticed that your bump was actually starting to show.

“Babies, stop making mommy sick so she can sleep. Daddy’s orders.”

“Hopefully they'll listen to you because clearly they pay me no attention.”

“When they hear ‘the voice’ for the first time, they're going to be running for their lives.” Joe said, referring to the first time he heard it and made sure to stay out of your way for the rest of the day.

“I still to this day have no idea what you are talking about when you say that.”

“It's a voice you make when you get really annoyed. Ask Ja'Marr, he'll back me up.”

“I just think you two are being dramatic.”

“Says the most dramatic person in the room….”

“Husband! Take it back!”

“Nope, it's facts and I'm not going to lie to you.”

All you did was roll your eyes in response as Joe raised his eyebrows at you.

“Don't catch an attitude with me because it's something you didn't want to hear. Fix your face.”

“I'll fix mine if you let me ride yours.”

“I��� These pregnancy hormones are giving me a run for my money and got me fighting for my damn life. One thing at a time and let's get your nausea under control first.”

Later on in the day, when Joe was sitting at the island in the kitchen, you went and sat next to him while setting up your phone. He quickly noticed and looked over at you.

“Whatever it is, no.”

“But baby! Pleaseeee?!”

You knew Joe hated being in front of a camera, but you loved doing TikTok challenges with him from time to time.

Sighing and finally giving in, he put his phone down to give you his undivided attention.

“Okay, what are we doing?”

“We listen and we don't judge challenge. I sent you a few so you would have an example to know what to do.”

“Only because it's you. Let's get this over with.”

“Yay! And I want you to go first.” You told him as you pressed record.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When I feel like I'm getting sick, I act like I'm so drained so I can't do anything so you'll baby me.” Joe was the first one up and smiled at you when he was finished.

“What the? I baby you anyway! Like 98% of the time.”

“AHT! No judging. You just take it to a different level. Moving on.”

“You are literally MY baby though. My 6’4 baby and I'm 4'11, but who's to say anything about that? I love you bad and I see you're using it to your advantage.”

“To get endless cuddles from my wife? Hell yeah I'm taking advantage of it.”

“Okay, next.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So after you fall asleep since your bedtime is like 6 pm.. like a grandpa…” You started to say, but was immediately interrupted.

“9 during the season!”

“Stop interrupting me, husband! After you fall asleep, I go and buy things on your phone and make sure to delete the notifications so you don't find out.”

“BABY!”

“HEY! I BUY YOU THINGS TOO!”

“And you hide the packages too because I literally never see any of them.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Fine. Keep your secrets.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When we were at LSU and we were just friends, I memorized your schedule and knew you had a lot of late classes and I would purposely wait for you if it was dark outside to walk you to your car to make sure you were safe. And it gave me a chance to spend more time with you.”

“So, that's why it seemed like you were always around? Aww, you love me!” You told him as you pinched his cheek.

“And don't you ever forget it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“During last season when I saw you wore THOSE PANTS, yes you know the ones I'm talking about, after I specifically told you not to because they looked crazy and you wore them anyway, you kept asking if I've seen them but I hid them somewhere in our house and they have been hidden for so long that I forgot their location.”

“I LOVE THOSE PANTS, BABE!”

“THEY ARE HIDEOUS, BABY. NO!”

“I'm making it my mission later to find my pants.”

“I know Ja'Marr probably bought you those ugly ass pants.”

“AHT! You're judging!”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“When you're mad at me, I purposely go into the cabinet and make all of the jar lids tighter so you have to come and talk to me.” Joe confessed and you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms at the same time.

“SERIOUSLY? And here I am thinking I'm a weak bitch! I can lift almost as heavy as you can! And a jar lid is what does me in?!?”

“Works every time.”

“I'm going to have to do it myself next time.”

“Like that will ever happen…” Joe said and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Okay, so….” You started to say as you glanced at Joe and he sighed knowing that something crazy and out of pocket was about to come out of your mouth.

“Oh shit, here we go.”

“Sometimes, I purposely piss you off and I don't know that you know you do this but your voice gets deeper and it turns me on so bad. Like your voice by itself turns me on, but when you get mad, whew. Sign me up for EVERY position. It's happening now and I'm just thinking about it. Gets your girl all hot and bothered.” You quietly said as Joe stared at you since you were now squirming in your chair and trying to keep your legs as tight as possible.

“Are you seriously squirming over there? And I’m not surprised by this in the slightest. Just wait until we're finished with this, I'm about to turn you every way but loose. And hold on! I thought we were keeping this PG!?” He asked as he leaned over and kissed you.

“Don't threaten me with a good time and when are the videos we do ever PG? Especially when it's something like this? And don't get me started because I will literally rip off your clothes at this very moment.”

“Good point and see? And that's why you're pregnant now.”

“Because my husband is fine as hell and I'll fu-” Joe's eyes went wide as he promptly covered your mouth with his hand and in protest, you licked it, making him look at you dumbfounded.

“No! Do not finish that sentence. This is really about to turn into something else if you don't stop. And did you just lick my hand!?”

“I wanna lick something else too, but I'll save that for when we turn the camera off.” You tried to whisper, but failed miserably.

“BABY QUIT IT!” Joe pleaded and all you did was shrug.

“I was like this before you married me and you should have known that once this ring was on my finger, I was about to be ten times worse.”

“Hmm, that's putting it lightly.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“I hide some of your perfumes so that you'll only use my favorite ones that I've bought for you.”

“Babe! How many have you hidden!? And here I am thinking that I've lost them!”

“Hmm, not telling.”

“You're annoying.”

“I'm cute and you love me.”

“Survey says that both of those responses are correct.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“So, when you got hurt during your rookie year, I was watching the game and saw it happen and my heart immediately dropped. Because we literally had an argument hours before that game and we weren't talking and now I think back on it, I had no idea what the argument was about. But, I low-key felt that you getting hurt was somehow my fault. I remember packing my things and getting on a plane and crying the entire way there and I honestly didn't know if you wanted to see me at that point. Because I had sent you a text right before the game and you didn't respond. And to this day, I still feel like that.”

It was quiet for a few seconds before Joe said anything.

“That… baby that wasn't your fault. It was a bad hit. And of course I wanted to see you. You were actually the first person I asked for. I never knew you felt like that.”

“I hate seeing you in pain and I…. I'm about to cry again.”

“I can tell, hormones.” Joe replied as he wiped your eyes for you.

“But I came back from it because of you and how you helped me. You being there was enough. You love me bad, don't you?” He asked as he was trying to get you to smile.

“So much, and you know it.”

“We listen and we don't judge.”

“Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I watch you until you fall asleep to make sure you’re okay. Doesn't matter how long it takes or if I have to get up early. You're my priority.”

“And, I'm about to cry again. Damn these hormones.”

“You are literally MY person and I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Ladies, get you a husband who treats you like the queen you are every day because….. shoutout to Jimmy and Robin because the two of them gave me one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

“Wait… ONE of the best things? I'm not THE best thing!?”

“Hmm, you're top five.” You replied as you shrugged.

“Uh? You mean number one?”

“If it makes you feel better, the top five things all have to do with you.”

“That sounds suspicious, but I'll let it slide for now.”

“I love you Joseph Lee Burrow!” You exclaimed as you kissed his cheek and wrapped your arms around him.

“Stop trying to change the subject and I know for a damn fact you didn't just call me by my full name. I get anxious when you do that.”

“Wait, huh?”

“We've gone over this a million times. My name is BABY to you. When it comes to you I don't know who Joseph is.”

“And he calls me the dramatic one.”

[mariacallous]

lol philadelphia inquirer bodying nyt

https://www.inquirer.com/opinion/editorials/first-presidential-debate-joe-biden-donald-trump-withdraw-20240629.html

President Joe Biden’s debate performance was a disaster. His disjointed responses and dazed look sparked calls for him to drop out of the presidential race.

But lost in the hand wringing was Donald Trump’s usual bombastic litany of lies, hyperbole, bigotry, ignorance, and fear mongering. His performance demonstrated once again that he is a danger to democracy and unfit for office.

In fact, the debate about the debate is misplaced. The only person who should withdraw from the race is Trump.

Trump, 78, has been on the political stage for eight years marked by chaos, corruption, and incivility. Why go back to that?

To build himself up, Trump constantly tears the country down. There is no shining city on the hill. It’s just mourning in America.

Throughout the debate, Trump repeatedly said we are a “failing” country. He called the United States a “third world nation.” He said, “we’re living in hell” and “very close to World War III.”

“People are dying all over the place,” Trump said, later adding “we’re literally an uncivilized country now.”

Trump told more than 30 lies during the debate to go with the more than 30,000 mistruths told during his four years as president. He dodged the CNN moderators’ questions, took no responsibility for his actions, and blamed others, mainly Biden, for everything that is wrong in the world.

Trump’s response to the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection he fueled was farcical. He said a “relatively small number of people” went to the Capitol and many were “ushered in by the police.”

After scheming to overturn the 2020 election, Trump refused to say if he would accept the results of the 2024 election. Unless, of course, he wins.

The debate served as a reminder of what another four years of Trump would look like. More lies, grievance, narcissism, and hate. Supporters say they like Trump because he says whatever he thinks. But he mainly spews raw sewage.

Trump attacks the military. He denigrates the Justice Department and judges. He belittles the FBI and the CIA. He picks fights with allies and cozies up to dictators.

Trump is an unserious carnival barker running for the most serious job in the world. During his last term, Trump served himself and not the American people.

Trump spent chunks of time watching TV, tweeting, and hanging out at his country clubs. Over his four-year term, Trump played roughly 261 rounds of golf.

As president, Trump didn’t read the daily intelligence briefs. He continued to use his personal cell phone, allowing Chinese spies to listen to his calls. During one Oval Office meeting, Trump shared highly classified intelligence with the Russian foreign minister and ambassador.

Trump’s term did plenty of damage and had few accomplishments. The much-hyped wall didn’t get built. Infrastructure week was a recurring joke. Giant tax cuts made the rich richer, while fueling massive deficits for others to pay for years. His support for coal, oil drilling and withdrawal from the Paris Agreement worsened the growing impact of climate change.

Trump stacked the judiciary with extreme judges consisting mainly of white males, including a number who the American Bar Association rated as not qualified. A record number of cabinet officials were fired or left the office. The West Wing was in constant chaos and infighting.

Many Trump appointees exited under a cloud of corruption, grifting and ethical scandals. Trump’s children made millions off the White House. His dilettante son-in-law got $2 billion from the Saudi government for his fledgling investment firm even though he never managed money before.

Trump’s mismanagement of the pandemic resulted in tens of thousands of needless deaths. He boasts about stacking the Supreme Court with extreme right-wingers who are stripping away individual rights, upending legal precedents, and making the country less safe. If elected, Trump may add to the court’s conservative majority.

Of course, there were the unprecedented two impeachments. Now, Trump is a convicted felon who is staring at three more criminal indictments. He is running for president to stay out of prison.

If anything, Trump doesn’t deserve to be on the presidential debate stage. Why even give him a platform?

Trump allegedly stole classified information and tried to overturn an election. His plans for a second term are worse than the last one. We cannot be serious about letting such a crooked clown back in the White House.

Yes, Biden had a horrible night. He’s 81 and not as sharp as he used to be. But Biden on his worst day remains lightyears better than Trump on his best.

Biden must show that he is up to the job. This much is clear: He has a substantive record of real accomplishments, fighting the pandemic, combating climate change, investing in infrastructure, and supporting working families and the most vulnerable.

Biden has surrounded himself with experienced people who take public service seriously. He has passed major bipartisan legislation despite a dysfunctional Republican House majority.

Biden believes in the best of America. He has rebuilt relationships with allies around the world and stood up to foes like Russia and China.

There was only one person at the debate who does not deserve to be running for president. The sooner Trump exits the stage, the better off the country will be.

[thethief1996]

Gaza has been completely cut off from the world and from each other. Gazans with Turkish SIM cards have been able to make contact with the outer world and said rescue teams don't know where to go because they don't know where bombings have happened. There's no way to call ambulances. At night, due to the electricity cut, Gazans are left in complete dark only lit up by the airstrikes. They have no way to know what's happening on the next street over. Meanwhile, Israel is publishing AI rendered videos of tunnels under Al-Shifa hospital to manufacture consent for its bombing. Al-Shifa, the largest hospital in Gaza, is housing hundreds of refugees.

This was meant to cut off Palestinians from the world, because we are sympathizing with their first person accounts and it makes Genocide Joe look like a genocide denier when he casts doubt on the death toll (a note on this, Israel has called the Gaza Municipality to threaten them with bombings. They want to erase every record that Palestinians exist in Gaza).

It's not up to us to feel defeated. Israel denies the very existence of Palestinians, and when we turn around and give up hope, we are washing our hands of any work towards liberation and becoming complicit in the zionist narrative. The people of Gaza are alive, the people in the West Bank are alive and the 5.6 million refugees denied the right of return are alive. Mosques are using their minarets to send out help signals. We're being asked to be their voices, so let's be their voices.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe).

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices, looking to inform yourself from the sources. Palestinians have asked of us only that we share, tweet and post, over and over. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera

Anadolu Agency

Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Al-Shabaka (twitter / instagram)

Mariam Barghouti (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza. He's been offline since yesterday. Keep him in your prayers.

Take action. You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour

HP

Puma

Sabra

Sodastream

Ahava cosmetics

Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate. Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN GERMANY: Here's a toolkit to contact your representatives by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN POLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN DENMARK: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SWEDEN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN FRANCE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN THE NETHERLANDS: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN GREECE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN NORWAY: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN ITALY: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN PORTUGAL: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SPAIN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN FINLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRIA: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN BELGIUM: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN ROMANIA: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN UKRAINE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Here's a list on tumblr

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

There will a National March on Nov 4th in Washington, with the participation of 200+ organizations. If you can, get a group of friends and attend.

Feel free to add more resources. Check the links, there are too many protests and tumblr has a word limit for text posts.

[schlattsdoll]

Okay I thought of this while I was getting smth out of the car a few months ago (don’t ask lol)

Anyway

So, you go to a Lovejoy gig and you’re close to the stage. Will keeps making eye contact with you and it’s almost like he’s admiring you. And of course, you’re filming him, you’re getting this on camera. I mean, who wouldn’t? After the gig you’re outside on the sidewalk and Will comes up to you, guitar (in its case) in hand. And obviously this is after all the fans have left after trying to get the bands attention and you’re just trying to get an Uber. “Hey- I uh, thought you were really pretty and I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my place?” He asks you. Of course you say yes and ask for a picture and hug which he happily accepts. Once the band has gotten all their equipment put up in the van and has sat in said van Will pulls you down onto his lap and snuggles into the back of your neck, leaving soft kisses there. It makes you feel hot and flustered and the band is giggling at the two of you. And when you and Will get back to his those kisses get rougher and move to different places. Then, the two of you move to his bedroom and…. I’ll let you write the rest :)

(I’m sorry this is so long😭)

call me what you like - wilbur soot

warnings: smut{18+},afab reader, oral {m receiving} , rikki getting carried away,

you made damn sure you were as close to the barricade as humanly possible, it was lovejoy after all, and you had a crush on a certain singer. it wasnt often you attended a concert solo, but you made sure to make the best of it, making friends in line and the people around you. the preshow music cuts off and the lights dim, as the boys make their entrance. your phone camera is recording your beloved band, and you notice wilbur making his way towards your side of the stage. excitedly you zoom in your camera, and in a blink and you'll miss it moment, he winks at you. the rest of the concert you began to notice him favoring your area, and making eye contact with you.

the concert wraps and sadly, you didnt get a setlist or will's guitar pick like you had hoped for. the venue empties out, fans now desperately running outside to try and see them board the bus. you began to walk out of the venue and pulled up uber on your phone when you feel a tap on the shoulder. it was none other than wilbur soot himself. "oh my god! i'm such a huge fan of yours!"

will chuckled, "hello, obviously you know who i am, but i think you're really pretty and would like to get to know you." a tall man with shaggy brown hair smiled at you. "y-yeah, of course! my name is y/n." you managed to get out without turning into a total mess. you kindly ask him for a picture before he helps you sneak out the back. the whole time, you two are talking and shamelessly flirting. "i'd love to keep this going darling, why don't you come back to the bus with me for a drink?"

after you snuck into the bus, he realized there wasn't enough seats, and he simply pulled you down onto his lap. "i hope this is okay love, just wanna be close to you." he smiles up at you and kisses your cheek. his arms holding your back to his chest as his placed gentle kisses along the back of your neck, hands rubbing smooth circles into the plush of your thighs. his bandmates biting back laughs and giggles while your face flushes.

joe hands you and wilbur glasses of a clear liquid, and you cheers with them and down the shot with ease. the burn of alcohol in your throat, you smile and wiggle back into will, who's more than happy to be holding you. you do your best to turn around without getting off your seat, and he laughs until you managed to face him. "hi." "hello love." he kisses your cheek once again, then your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. your hands make their way to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands gently and if you listened close enough, you could hear a faint moan into the kiss.

the bus finally stopped at his apartment and you both pulled away breathlessly, a flush on both of your cheeks. he grabs his guitar and guides you too his room. "now, where were we?" he asked, placing down the guitar and sitting on his bed, patting the spot next to him. you walked over and instead of sitting next to him you straddle his lap, "somewhere about here." he smirks up at you, his hands finding their way up your back. he pulls you down and kisses you fiercely, hands fumbling towards the bottom of your top, tugging gently as a hint for you to raise your arms. you oblige his request and he does the same. he oogles your breasts, hands tentatively reaching forward for them. "may i?" you nodded your head and wilbur kisses his way down from your jaw to your neck, little purple marks blossoming down his path. he continues down to your clavicle, the finally your chest. taking one in his mouth, the other in his hand. his tongue flicking the sensitive bud while his hand gropes and squeezes, his thumb rubbing over your other nipple gently. once he's satisfied with his work on the one, he switches and repeats. "will, stop being a tease." you whine as he continues his ministrations on your breasts. he smirks and pinches and bites gently, causing your back to arch, grinding your clothed cunt down onto his growing erection. will pulls away, a dopey smile on his face, "sorry love, your tits are just amazing. wanna keep kissin' them." he places one last kiss to each before laying back against the bed, you now on top of him.

"we don't have to keep going if you don't want to darling." his arms are bent behind him, holding himself up. you shake your head, "i want you will, please take me?" another smile on his face as he replies "how can i say no to a sweet thing like you?" his hands rub your back gently as you lean down, now repeating his trail of kisses and bruises to him. as you do so, you shift down off the bed and onto your knees, pulling his jeans down his legs. you can see the growing wet patch near his tip, and he sucks in a breath as you palm him over his boxers. pulling those down too you see his cock spring out and slap against his tummy. he's not very thick, but what he lacks in thickness he makes up for in inches. you wrap your hand around it and stroke it tentatively, watching his eyes clench shut as you kitten lick the tip. "who's being a tease now love?" he jokes, right before he bites back a moan due to you licking down a particular vein, then taking the older man's member in your mouth. his hand makes its way down to your head where his fingers tangle in your hair, making a makeshift ponytail for you. he helps create a steady rhythm, bucking his hips while you keep your mouth open, until he eventually thrusts a little too hard, his large cock hitting the back of your throat. his eyes roll back as he moans, then he quickly pulls out, "'m sorry darling. did i hurt you?" you shook your head no, and to further prove him wrong you took him down as far as you could go, sucking and slowly bobbing your head. "fuck, just like that love. don't stop."

as he got close, he pulled himself out of your mouth. "normally i would return the favor, but i just can't wait to be inside you." will helped you off your knees and back and onto the bed. your jaw ached as he flipped up your skirt, seeing your frilly panties soaked, "all this just for me darling? you got this wet just from sucking my cock?" you could feel his calloused fingers from the flimsy material, whining for more contact. will pulled your panties down and flung them somewhere in the room. "you poor thing, all worked up. don't worry your pretty little head love, i'll take care of you." his thumb rubbed slow circles on your clit as he pushed himself into your hole. "s'fucking tight darling, feels so good."

his hips crashed against yours, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room. your moans of "fuck, will. dont stop." being music to his fucking ears. he leaned down to kiss you as he drilled into you, each thrust harder than the last. he brought his hand back to your sweet spot, rubbing at a speed to match his pace. you always thought he'd be skilled with his fingers but you never could imagine like this. his pace grew frantic and sloppy, eager to chase his release. “come on love, cum for me.” he said, feeling your walls tighten as you grew close to your own.

your back arches off the bed, eyes wide as will fucks you through your orgasm. “such a good girl, look so beautiful cumming on my cock.” he kisses you sweetly, and pulls out. stroking himself until he finishes on your stomach. after running to the bathroom to grab a washcloth, he gently cleans you off, being sure to be mindful of your sensitive area. flopping on the bed next to you he smiles and says “i don’t normally do this, but you’re just so beautiful i couldn’t help myself. tomorrow, let me take you on a proper date.” he kisses your cheek and you agreed. he pulled you close and held your waist. “you know, you don’t have to leave. please stay?”

and the whole night was spent talking and cuddling. you did eventually leave to get ready for your date with him, and he was a perfect gentleman. he drove you home and waited outside for you.

“so, darling, where are we off too?”

thank you so much for reading! as always my inbox is open for requests 💚

[12triceratops]

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

[throwaway-yandere]

And The Sun Is Silent (Yandere!Wriothesley/Reader)

Unreliable Synopsis: You, a former writer, received a fan letter. Truly a curious thing, for the contents appear more personal than what it should be.

A/n: I am not back. I posted this cuz first off, I adore Joe Zieja and all his works and I was so hyped when I saw he voiced Wriothesley and second, mfer gave me C4 qiqi. i love my daughter but cmon wrio, I literally got the same haircut as you do now-

CW: nothing really. Just a lil mind frick ig

“When I saw his hands wrapped around his dearest new spouse, cutting that vile wedding cake together, I wanted nothing more than to take that knife and slit his throat.”

(Y/n) was a serialized author in Fontaine whose works were primarily geared towards detective novels. However, their words were less laced with objectivity and “irrefutable facts” as the heavy pockets do when spinning their tales. Unfortunately, they weren’t meant to fill their coffers with hit-release masterpieces. (Y/n)– pen name “Maestro Justiniano” – was more engrossed in the perpetrators' psychology like the barkeeps and magicians do. They were the main characters– the sung hero of the tale. The glorified violence thrived in each passing page for the only mystery to be solved was “who will they target next?”

If young fans of other authors were seen as aspiring detectives or law enforcers, those who were known as fans of the Maestro were unjustifiably labeled as “future degenerates.” For (Y/n), it was funny. Overhearing grandparents waste their already fleeting energy to scold their grandchild’s love for their sinful work was their source of joy.

But (Y/n) (L/n) was not Maestro Justiano in public.

They were Duke Wriothesley’s spouse. Maestro Justiano is but a shade and (Y/n) is a human. The maestro does not feed on earth nor mora, but (Y/n) is obliged to. He bought his title, and he bought his spouse.

Gone was their free fourth finger. With a golden shackle, they sealed their fate to a wealthy man for table scraps. Perhaps it is fortunate that he is generous with his pockets, but to (Y/n), they would rather starve themselves writing than sit through another seminar about the nation’s ever-changing laws.

The Maestro’s life used to be so full of thrill; the “pelf” they received for each writing commission was a life worth their breaths. 

The Maestro’s life used to be coated in moonlight; sneaking out and running gigs was their bread and butter.

But now the sun is silent, and (Y/n) stands with a tail behind their legs. 

“(Y/n), do you need anything?”

Wriothesley asked even when he could guess the answer. Lazily, (Y/n) shifted from the covers, peering over with half-closed eyes.

“Nothing, Your Grace.” (Y/n) yawned. “Close the door.”

The Duke nods, understanding their fatigue. He silently shuts the door, and nothing of interest is to be noted afterward.

This has been their canned script every Wednesday to Friday without fail for the past 3 years. 

In (Y/n)’s eyes, Wriothesley is a mere animal with whom they mate for survival. Barely any true emotional trysts occurred in their first two years of marriage. They’re a “friend” of fortune. With him always away from home, (Y/n) is left with nothing but their thoughts. 

The nights were warm, but the mornings were cold. 

And the sun is silent.

Their husband has never been quite the same after an incident during their 2nd year of marriage. 

On the night they were attacked in the comfort of their shared home, a gear in his head was stolen.

Wriothesley held them, audibly more alarmed and broken than (Y/n)– the victim– was. He shook, afraid of what you must’ve gone through in his absence. Robbery, that’s what the records say. An armed man entered their home with the intent to steal. Black were his gloves and hair. The perpetrator thought they had been away on a business trip and pulled the trigger by surprise when they emerged from the kitchen. 

That thief had failed to steal material possessions, but their husband had lost his good of intellect. He cannot stand the notion of leaving them alone. What is a collector’s item if it’s not in great condition? Wriothesley has locked the gates and kept (Y/n) in, and he’ll continue to do so to preserve their value.

“I want to meet you somewhere someday, in a place where the sun is no longer silent. I want to crawl and bury myself under your skin where I can read through your mind. The house is too quiet. I want to trace your collarbones. I want to bite into your flesh, and I need you to look into my eyes as I tear myself apart. I am in love with you, (Y/n). It’s unbelievable, but it’s true. I live within these walls. I am what keeps you grounded with a golden ring. But why does the sun hide from me?”

Despite how much closer the couple are now, (Y/n) feels more distant than before. Not that they had the right to say "The duke was not the man I married" when they rarely talked— but it surely felt that way.

And in one Sunday night, the forcibly retired author used their words not to immerse readers, but to intimidate guards to grant entry to their "beloved" husband's office.

"You fucking bitch…"

"Lovely to see you too, honey."

"You made me lose my job!!!"

"Here I thought you refer to it as a side-line."

"Are you fucking for real right now?!" They screamed and slammed a fist down on the table. The pain hasn't hit them yet as their unbridled shock and rage hit overdrive. "Since when did you have the right to just take my–"

"Your hobbies away?" Wriothesley placed down his chamomile tea and shrugged. "Honey, I'm not doing anything like that. No, I'm only protecting you."

"Oh, great!" They waved a hand around dramatically before slapping it back to their thigh, rolling their eyes. "Let me guess, there's a biiiig explanation that fits into one giant puzzle."

"You know me too well for someone who never initiates conversation." He smiled mockingly. 

"You're right. Court Dense Publishing House is being investigated for numerous allegations. Toxic working environment, which included stalking and superiors leveraging pay for sexual favors might I add, and tax fraud. The details of the latter will bore you." Wriothesley continued.

He sighed. "Can't you tell? I'm just being a decent husband. What if you were being harassed and you were afraid to tell me?" 

"Like hell, I was–" They took a sharp deep breath in. "Listen. Let me get back to my work and we won't have any problems, Your Grace."

"No can do. You're an ex-Maestro now."

“And you're an ex-con.” They quickly retorted.

…

…

“... You're calling me an ex-con?" Wriothesley laughed dryly. The lone sound made them inch their heels slightly backward.

His eyelids lowered as his dull gray eyes peeked behind underneath his tilted glare.

They had never seen him this serious.

"Who do you think turned me into one?”

…

…

…

They blinked.

His words– though not making sense without context– carried a heavy weight they had unfortunately missed.

His gaze and words were accusingly pointed.

At them.

…

…

Wriothesley laughed.

"I'm kidding, of course. Don't be so tense."

(Y/n) didn't laugh.

He smiled. They can't tell if it was fake or not. He's been too good at pretending to be nice that they never knew when he genuinely dropped the act.

Like Maestro Justiniano, that argument is history now. 

And maybe that's why (Y/n) first thought it would be a comforting experience to read a story written by an avid fan.

It was a long manuscript. Sigewinne claimed it came from a fellow Melusine who wanted her favorite author's thoughts on how to write a criminal male lead. When asked for the writer's name, she refused to say it. (Y/n) respected it since they too posted anonymously…

But this reading sounds less like a professional job and more like a stalker's confession…

“When I first finished a book of yours in two sittings, I had formed a vague fantasy on how you looked like. You were a tall man, thin, long-necked, sharp-nosed, with a body slightly bent forward. Needless to say, I was stoked to find that description failed to perfectly describe who you were in person. I hope that with my new appearance, my description perfectly describes how your husband used to look as well. These black gloves just don’t fit me right.”

These black gloves…?

"Honey, I'm home!!! Oh, and Sigewinne's here too."

As soon as they heard the door open, (Y/n) shoved the fan's manuscript inside their drawer. Wriothesley hates seeing any semblance of creative writing inside the house.

"Can you brew two cups of tea for us?" Wriothesley asked as he removed his jacket, placing it recklessly on the sofa. "We're exhausted."

(Y/n) nodded. They never tell him how they make his tea. For a bottle weighing 8 fl oz, they'd take a rounded scoop of sunsettia powder to the pitcher and pour steamed 2% milk to whatever was the appropriate line. Once aerated for 3 seconds, they fill it with their macha mix with ¼’’ foam and ¾’’ more below the rim for the aesthetic. 

The process is not as difficult as it sounds, but they like withholding information. Why else won't friends and family know that they're a prolific writer, right?

"Sure. I'll be right back."

They left.

Their “husband” picked up the letter they hastily hid, a faint smile playing on his face.

Were you frightened after reading it? 

How did his favorite author react?

He wished he knew. But he’s no detective– he’s a present “degenerate”. He won’t find clues just by looking at the parchment. "Wriothesley" placed it back to where it was earlier and adjusted his black gloves to fit just right. 

“Wriothesley” glanced at Sigewinne with a giddy smile.

“So, do you think they liked my writing?”

"(P.S: I finally figured out how you make your coffee. It's 3 pumps of Fonta, 1 shot of espresso roast, chilled milk, and stirred with ice. This unique combination would've perplexed me if I didn't find out you made it out of spite. 

But it does taste good. I promise. After all, in the cold solitude of your sunless prison, I'll be the one brewing you coffee. May each sip be a reminder of my affection. The sun may be silent too in the Fortress, but maybe in there, you'll finally appreciate my warmth.")

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Warnings: violence, domestic abuse, non-explicit smut

Chapter warnings: mention of blood and injuries

Chapter word count: 5.1k

A/N: I started this fic all the way back in April, when we first got the news that Joe was cast as Caracalla in "Gladiator 2". I did a ton of research, read books and academic papers about Caracalla and his reign, the whole shebang. Then in July, we got the confirmation that Joe played Geta instead, but by then, I'd already written about 30k words and didn't want to throw it away. Since I never was going to follow the movie anyway (no spoilers here!), I thought, OK, if the great Ridley Scott wasn't going to be historically accurate, then neither am I! So I replaced "Caracalla" with "Geta", changed a few details, and here we are.

The biggest change I made is that Geta was the one that killed Caracalla, not the other way around (this is a historical fact so it's not a spoiler for the movie.) Their confrontation also followed history (which happened in the presence of their mother, Julia Domna.) The remainder of Geta's reign is based on the real reign of Caracalla - his various military campaigns, the war against Parthia, and his infamous assassination (attempted assassination, in this case) by Justus Martialis while peeing on the side of the road now all happen to Geta. Also, Caracalla is described as sometimes wearing a blonde wig, so my headcanon is that the ginger hair in the movie is a wig as well (sorry Joe, I know you were working that wig for all it's worth, but I can't take it seriously.)

Prologue

Once upon a time, two brothers founded the greatest empire in the world...

He and his brother had grown up with the tale of Romulus and Remus, as any child of Rome would. But unlike other children of Rome, he and his brother had also been told that they would one day inherit the empire that those two brothers had built.

Nobody told them the birth of that empire had come at the price of fratricide. Nobody told them that only one brother was destined to be emperor.

They knew anyway.

The only question was, after the blood had run dry, which one of them would be left standing?

He, for one, refused to wait for an answer. He would find his own. So when the Fates dealt him their blow, he fought back and reclaimed his destiny from them. And as he stood over his brother with the blade still dripping blood in his hand, as he looked at the shocked faces of the Praetorians, as he avoided his mother's horrified eyes, filled with the tears he didn't allow her to shed, he thought he'd done it. He'd had the answer.

"You all saw!" he shouted at them, daring them to contradict him. "You saw what he was going to do, how he was coming for me! I did what I had to do to protect myself!" No one said a word in response. Perhaps they thought, and rightly so, that it would be unwise to oppose a man holding a bloody sword. "He was a tyrant and a would-be murderer," he continued, indicating his brother. "There is to be no mourning of him." His mother flinched, her arms closing instinctively around her son's still-warm body, but she, too, said nothing. "I want his image removed from all paintings, coins melted down, statues destroyed, his name struck from records. Let it be known from this day forward that it is a capital offense to speak or write his name!"

His orders were carried out, of course. He was the Emperor now.

But in wiping all images of his brother off the face of the Earth, he also had to remake his own. They had been so intricately linked, so connected in the minds of the citizens of Rome, two sides of the same monstrous coin, that he had to become someone else to be seen as the true heir, as the sole emperor. Gone were the wig and the makeup. Gone were the flashy clothes and jewelry. He cropped his hair short, grew a beard, and dressed himself in the simple garb of a legionary. He went on campaign after campaign to expand the Empire. Caledonia, Germania, Alexandria, Parthia. He would become a soldier-emperor, like his father. He would become a conqueror, like Alexander the Great. He would build an empire, like Romulus. Because he, like Romulus, was the brother who survived.

Only he didn't expect the price of surviving would be so high.

Chapter 1

The smell of blood was in the air.

As he staggered over the rocky ground, he could smell it all around him, on him, in him, and there was no escaping it. The sharp metallic tang of it brought back unpleasant memories of battlefields, of death and screaming and decay. But this was no battlefield. It was quiet, far too quiet; there was none of the clashes of swords and armors, the panicked whinnying of horses, or the groans of dying men. The only sound was his own ragged breathing and the hammering of pulse in his ears. There were stabbing pains on his back and between his ribs, and it hurt every time he drew a breath. There was a pounding somewhere on the back of his head—he must have hit it when he fell down the slope, though he no longer remembered where that slope was. He no longer remembered anything except for a burning feeling of anger and hatred, almost stronger than the pains of his body, though at whom or what that anger was directed, he didn't know. And underneath it all was a threat of fear. He had never been afraid of anything. Yet now the cold breath of Phobos was on the back of his neck, driving him on, urging him to get away, as far away as he could.

His head felt heavy and light at the same time. More than once, he stumbled over a rock and went down on his hands and knees. That was when he realized he was clutching a dagger in his hand, a dagger sticky with blood—his own or someone else's, he no longer remembered either. He pushed himself up by the hilt of the dagger and continued on. His lungs burned, his skin was icy cold despite the warm spring sunshine, and his limbs were so numb he was afraid the dagger might slip from his fingers. He must not let that happen. That dagger was important somehow. And he walked on, over the rocks and the uneven ground and the thick undergrowth.

He came across a stream, its banks overflowing from the winter rain. He still had the presence of mind to tuck the dagger into his belt before plunging in. The water was much deeper than he'd expected. His feet went out from under him. The pains in his back and his ribs melted into one scorching spear that went through him from chest to shoulder blades, and he had no strength left to fight the current. A branch of driftwood floated past. He held on to it, by instinct rather than a conscious desire to live. Doing so hurt his chest, but the water cooled his pounding head and washed away some of the searing pain and the blood, so the smell no longer assaulted his nostrils. He let the stream carry him away.

So this is how it ends, he thought, feeling blood and life drain out of him. This little stream was to be his River Styx. Not for him the glorious death of the battlefield. Not for him the quiet, peaceful death after a lifetime of ruling and conquering. Not for him even the sudden, tragic death of a great man cut down in his prime. No, for him would be an ignominious death, befitting an ignominious life. Somehow he'd always known it. This was what the Fates had in store for him.

He never quite lost consciousness, though he didn't know how long he floated. At some point, the light shining through his eyelids lost its brightness, but he couldn't tell if it was because the sun was going down or he was dying.

Hands came down on his shoulders. It brought the pain back, and that was how he knew he was still alive. He'd stopped floating. Someone was hauling him up the bank of the stream, dragging him by the arms. So they'd found him, then. He was dropped unceremoniously over the rocky ground, where he lay motionless, waiting for the soft whisper of a sword being drawn from its sheath, for the final blow to end his misery, for eternal darkness to engulf him at last.

When it never came, he forced his eyes open.

For a moment, he thought he really was dead, and he was facing Charon—a dark shape loomed over him, with fire for eyes and a hairy, oddly-shaped head. The words of the Aeneid, learned from his youth, came to his mind unbidden.

A sordid god: down from his hairy chin;

A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean;

His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;

A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire...

Now he knew he was dying. Since when did he start remembering poetry?

Something warm and moist brushed his face, a snort stirred his wet hair, and the illusion broke. It wasn't Charon that stood over him, but some sort of animal, perhaps a horse. The fiery eyes moved, and he realized they were a torch, held in the hand of a person—a real person, with a cowl covering the head, keeping the face in the shadow. Savior or executioner?

He twisted his head to avoid the animal's inquisitive nose. Even such a tiny movement hurt. A pair of small feet, clad in old leather sandals, stood beside him. A pair of slim ankles, brushed by the long hem of a dark gown. A woman's feet.

Gentle hands turned him over. He tried to focus. In the light of the torch, he found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, as green as the hills of Caledonia, as green as the forests of Germania, as green as the water of the Euphrates, eyes that soothed and calmed and took away his pains. 

And, as he looked into those eyes, Emperor Geta, the Imperator Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Augustus, uttered the one word he'd never thought he would say, in all twenty-eight years of his life: "Help."

Darkness took him then.

***

Daphne stared at the soldier lying on the bank of the stream by her feet. He was a soldier, that much she was certain of, despite his lack of armor. It was a good thing too, for he would've sunk to the bottom of the stream had he been wearing all those heavy metal plates. But what had happened to him? How did he come to be here, all bedraggled and bloody? Had there been a battle nearby that she didn't know about? Ever since the previous spring, when war with Parthia had broken out again, Daphne had seen her fair share of soldiers marching through the countryside. Her village was too small, tucked away as it was amongst the hills, to receive much attention from the army, but she'd heard complaints of people from bigger towns who had had their crops taken, their draft animals seized, and their lives disrupted by the war. Even her younger brother, Attikos, had been recruited by the army. He was now serving in a garrison somewhere in the north, and every day her family lived in fear that he would not come back. Daphne, whose own life had been disrupted by another war that took place nearly ten years ago and thousands of miles away, tried her best to ignore the battles that raged on just across the border, knowing there was nothing she could do about them.

But now, it seemed, the battles had found their way to her.

The soldier at her feet let out a groan, and her healer's nature took over. Putting the torch down, she slipped her hands under his arms and lifted him up. The soldier, though muscular, wasn't a big man, and Daphne was strong from all the climbing and walking she had to do every day, so with only some grunting and heaving, she managed to put him on the back of her donkey, Midas, who was hovering helpfully nearby. "Come, Midas," she said, and with the torch in one hand, she led the donkey back to their camp, in one of the many caves that dotted the bottom of the hills.

That spring, as soon as the pistachio trees began putting out their clusters of green blooms tipped with pink, Daphne had left her hut for her bi-annual journey to gather herbs and medicine, while hoping that nobody at the village would be so inconsiderate as to fall ill or go into labor while she was away. It was a journey she had been making with her grandmother since she was old enough to tell wild carrot from poisonous hemlock, and one she'd always looked forward to as a child. For days on end, the two of them would wander up and down the hills and valleys of the Balikh River, searching amongst the new growth that had sprung up after the winter rain, looking for leaves and flowers with healing powers. For Daphne, it had been like playing, running through the plants, gathering up armfuls of fragrant leaves and flowers, cooking on an open fire, sleeping under the stars or in a cave. It was the only playtime she ever had. In the autumn, they would come back for roots and seeds and dry branches, but she loved the spring trip the best.

Now, as a grown woman, Daphne still loved the journey, though she also understood why her grandmother had taken her along all those years ago. It wasn't because Daphne had been that much help, or because her grandmother had wanted to give Daphne a rest from helping her mother and taking care of her brothers. It was simply because the old woman wanted someone to talk to. Back at the village, there were always people coming and going, seeking help. Out here, with nothing but the sky above and the ground beneath her, Daphne sometimes felt as though she was the only person alive in the whole of creation. There was Midas, of course, but as sweet as he was, a donkey was not much company.

So it was with a strange sense of relief and gratitude that Daphne lowered the soldier onto the ground, stoked the fire higher, and cut open his tunic to look at his wounds. Yes, this was something odd and unsettling and perhaps dangerous as well, but at least she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts for the night. She would have company, even if he was unconscious, and more importantly, she would have something to occupy herself with.

The wounds—there were two, one on his back near the shoulder and one between his ribs, just below his chest—were deep but clean, clearly made by a blade. Whatever had happened to him, the soldier had certainly been favored by Fortuna. His cloak had softened the blow, and the blade had only gone through the fleshy part of his shoulder. At the front, the blade had also been deflected somehow and had slipped between his ribs instead of burying itself in his heart. There was no blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was shallow but steady, meaning his lung had been spared. The soldier's trip down the stream had cleaned the wounds, leaving only a small trickle of blood.

Daphne opened her jar of vinegar, which she always brought along in case she found some plants that needed preserving, cut a strip of linen from the soldier's tunic, which was ruined anyway, dipped it in the vinegar, and carefully cleaned the wounds again. There was also a rather nasty bruise on the back of his head, but that would have to wait. Thank the gods she had her suturing needle and thread with her. She'd never gone on a long journey without them, not after the time she fell down a ravine and cut her foot. Had she been further away from home then, she would not have made it back. Yet another reason her grandmother had insisted on bringing along a helper.

The soldier's flesh trembled and twitched under the vinegar cloth. Daphne, bending over the wounds, didn't see him move. She only heard a hiss of steel and jumped back just in time to avoid the blade as it flashed in the firelight, right across her face. The soldier shot up, a dagger clutched in his hand, his eyes wide open, dark and enormous in the dimness of the cave. They were blank and unfocused, and she knew he saw nothing at all.

"Murderer!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "Traitor!"

Something hot and wet oozed down her cheek. Daphne clamped a hand to it and felt pain blaze across her cheekbone. The soldier's dagger had cut her. Had she been a fraction of a heartbeat slower, it would've taken out her nose or even her eye.

"You fool!" she shouted. Her grandmother would have something to say about the wisdom of arguing with a delirious man wielding a dagger, but Daphne had no time for wisdom at the moment. "You utter fool! I'm trying to save your life!" Blood was dripping down the side of her face, warm and sticky on her jaw.

The soldier wasn't listening. He was still ranting and raving about murderers and traitors, and something else in Latin, which Daphne couldn't understand. Then he tried to push himself to his feet, only to collapse in a heap by the fire. The dagger clattered out of his hand.

Daphne approached him cautiously, holding her injured cheek. He was motionless, though his chest was still moving up and down in weak, rapid breaths. Not wanting to take any risk, she picked up the dagger and tucked it into her pack, and, as extra precaution, bound the soldier's hands with some rope. Then, after wrapping some bandages around her cheek to stop the bleeding, she put more wood into the fire to stoke it higher, so its light filled the cave and reached even the furthest corner. Under that light, she sutured the soldier's wounds, using small, careful stitches just the way her grandmother had taught her. Once this was done, she went out again, torch in hand, passed the snoozing Midas by the mouth of the cave, and started searching the ground along the stream. She had seen some early-blooming goldenrods there—she never bothered to gather them, since they were abundant all around the hills of her village and in her own garden, but now she filled her mantle with the small yellow flowers.

The soldier was still unconscious by the time she came back. Good. She didn't want him awake and squirming and tearing the stitches. She crushed the goldenrod blooms and mixed them with vinegar into a bitter-smelling poultice, put it on his wounds and his bruise, and wrapped them in clean bandages. Some of the poultice she saved to put on her own wound as well, though the suturing would have to wait until the morning, when she could see her face more clearly.

With a sigh, Daphne sat back by the fire, trying not to wince as the vinegary poultice pressed into her cut. Her patient was lying peacefully enough, covered in her blanket, though he still writhed and grimaced from time to time.

She looked at him more closely, with curiosity. He was not a young man, though he was not yet old either, perhaps close to thirty. The same age as her husband, Galen, had he lived. But this man was no common foot soldier like her Galen had been. For all the ordinariness of his clothing, she could tell he was a patrician. It was there in the fine wool of his tunic, much finer than the coarse undyed linen of a soldier's, in the soft leather of his boots, in the gleaming buckles of his belt, in the carved ring on the little finger of his left hand. It was there in his face as well, in the high forehead framed by short dark curls, in the eyebrows that seemed locked in a permanent scowl above his fine-shaped nose, in the strong mouth and firm jaw covered by a neatly trimmed beard. Those noble features only heightened the riddle of the man, a riddle Daphne had no hope of solving any time soon.

Well, a good night's rest would bring clarity and wisdom in the morning, as her grandmother had always said. Leaving the mysterious soldier on the other side of the fire, Daphne wrapped herself in her mantle, lay down on the hard floor of the cave, and fell into a tired sleep, her cheek still smarting.

***

The fire had burned down to embers and the pale gray light of dawn was shining in from the mouth of the cave when Daphne was wakened by a shuffling sound. It was the soldier, who was pulling weakly at his bound wrists. His eyes were open, and though they were still dazed, some of the delirium in them had faded.

"What's the meaning of this?" he croaked. "Who are you? What have you done to me?!"

"Please, calm yourself," said Daphne, scrambling to her feet and holding up a hand. "I have to tie you up because you were tossing about. Calm yourself before you tear your wounds open. You're safe."

"Safe?" he repeated, almost to himself. "No... not safe... not safe..." The delirium was settling in again. She had to get a few things out of him before he lost consciousness or worse.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Which legion do you belong to? Is your camp close by?" He showed no sign of hearing her and only looked about the cave with wide, panic-stricken eyes. Daphne stepped closer and pulled her mantle down so he could see her face more clearly. "Is there anyone I can go to for help?"

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist so tightly it hurt. He fixed those enormous eyes on her. "No!" he shouted, though it came out little more than a rasping whisper. "Tell no one! Danger... must hide..." Then his eyes glazed over, and he dropped to the floor, fingers slowly loosening from her wrist.

Daphne made her way back to the other side of the dying fire and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rubbing her sore wrist. The soldier's fear was contagious. What had happened to him was no mere battle wounds, she could see that now. He had rambled about murderers and traitors... but was he the victim of murderers and traitors, or was he himself a murderer and traitor? Was he in danger, or was he the danger?

It was a two days' journey to the nearest town, Carrhae, and four days back to her village. The sensible thing to do was to bring him to Carrhae and leave him there for the authority to deal with. But with his injuries, he may not survive the trip. And even if they made it to Carrhae, a lone soldier, very possibly a deserter or even a turncoat, would not merit much attention. The magistrate there may leave him to die. Daphne wasn't sure she could live with that on her conscience. As she watched the unconscious soldier, she couldn't help thinking of her Galen, dead these eight years and buried somewhere in the cold, barbaric hills of Caledonia. What if something like this had happened to Galen as well? What if he'd been separated from his fellow soldiers and stumbled through a foreign land, lost and injured? And what if some woman had also happened upon him, but had decided to let him die because she thought he was too much trouble? What if this soldier had someone waiting for him?

With such thoughts circling around her head like a swarm of angry bees, there was no going back to sleep for her. As soon as the light turned from gray to white, Daphne went to the stream to fetch a pan of water, stopping briefly to check on Midas, who was contentedly cropping the grass around the mouth of the cave.

Her reflection in the stream made Daphne realize why the soldier had been so frightened upon seeing her. With dried blood down one side of her cheek, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, and her hair all wild, she must have looked, to him, like one of the Furies. Returning to the cave, she tried to stitch the cut on her cheek as best she could, using the pan of water as a mirror. It was going to leave a scar for sure. Oh well. She had never been a great beauty anyway.

She then boiled the water to make some porridge for breakfast. As she ate, she dug around in her store of foraged plants and herbs and found some valerian, which she steeped into a tea to help the soldier sleep. He swallowed the tea easily enough, though Daphne knew what he really needed was some tincture of poppy, which was stored in a precious glass vial on the highest shelf back in her hut, four days away. But could she bring him back there? The villagers would not take kindly to a stranger.

Leaving the soldier in the cave, Daphne returned to the stream with Midas by her side. Mysteriously wounded men or not, she was determined to finish her trip. Throughout the morning, she worked hard on the bank, cutting down armfuls of young willow, as these large trees were of better quality than the scraggy bushes near her village. She took care not to stray too far from the cave and returned from time to time to check on the soldier, who remained unconscious. In the light of day, he was looking very pale. Whatever she was going to do with him, she had to decide quickly. Although his wounds were not fatal, he had lost a lot of blood, and if the wounds became poisoned, there was little she could do for him out here.

Daphne was busy stripping the leaves from the willow branches to get at the medicinal bark when Midas gave a warning bray. She turned around and saw two soldiers striding toward her from upstream. She quickly pulled the mantle over her head to conceal her face, while still keeping an eye on them. They were dressed much more elaborately than her patient, in chainmail and helmets, and carrying swords and shields emblazoned with a scorpion. Dressed for battle. What kind of battle could they expect here, in this lonely valley amongst these rocky hills of Osroene?

The soldiers had spotted her and were quickening their steps. She remained where she was, with her back to them, feigning oblivion.

"You there! Old woman!" shouted one of the soldiers in Greek. Old woman? They must have been fooled by her dark mantle and her hunched form. Part of Daphne was offended, but another part of her was glad. She didn't like to think what such beastly men would do to a lone woman in the wilderness. "On your feet! We have some questions for you!"

Daphne gripped her knife more tightly in her palm, concealing it between the folds of her chiton. With her other hand, she pulled herself up by holding on to a willow tree, making sure to keep her back stooped, trying to appear like an old, decrepit hag. 

"Have you seen a wounded man around here?" one of the soldiers asked. He was young, with a face like a rat. He took off his helmet to wipe at his forehead, revealing thin tuffs of pale blonde hair.

Daphne hesitated. These men could be her patient's fellow legionaries, and she could simply hand him over to them and not have to worry about him any longer. However, she was now seeing them more clearly, and the brutal, fierce look on their faces made her knees tremble. She could be handing her patient to his executioners.

"Wounded?" she said in a low rasp. "Why would there be any wounded men around here? Was there a battle? Have the Parthians invaded us?"

"Calm down, you silly old hag," the other soldier said. He was older and darker. A scar ran from his left eye down his cheek, making him look even more vicious. "There was no battle," he continued. "Our fellow soldier simply—had an accident while marching, and we lost track of him. We're trying to find him before he gets seriously hurt. If you've seen him, tell us, and the army will reward you handsomely."

A likely story. Those wounds were no accident. Daphne shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I haven't seen a soul."

The two soldiers glanced at each other in exasperation and something else, too. Fear? Worry?

"He can't have gone this far," the blonde soldier said. "If Martialis had managed to wound him before he was killed—"

"Quiet, you idiot!" the dark one hissed. He pulled his partner away from Daphne's earshot, but some of his angry words floated back to her. "This is your fault! If you'd gone with Martialis to make sure the deed was done, none of this would've happened! Now we're trampling all over this Gods-forsaken land, searching for a needle in a haystack..."

So Martialis—whoever he was, or had been, by the sound of it—must have been the one who attacked her patient. And then her patient had killed Martialis and escaped? Daphne wasn't quite sure what the soldiers' conversation meant, but she was sure that there was some conspiracy here, and those men were in on it.

Her heart stopped. The two soldiers had noticed the cave and were making their way toward it. If they found her patient, they would know she'd lied...

"I wouldn't go poking around in there if I were you, young masters," she called out. The soldiers paused near the mouth of the cave and turned back to frown at her. She bent down a little, so that her cowl fell over her face. "These hills are teeming with scorpions and venomous snakes, and they like nothing more than a cool, dark place like that to hide from the sun," she continued. "They would not take kindly to being wakened from their nap."

The soldiers drew back, peering into the dark of the cave warily as if they could see these snakes and scorpions lurking there.

"I told you, he can't have gone far," the blonde, rat-faced soldier repeated to his partner. "We would've seen him by now. Unless he'd fallen into the stream. And if he had, he's done for anyway."

The dark-haired soldier lifted his heavy mail away from his neck and looked at the sun, which was getting higher in the sky and burning hotter. "Yes, I don't think anyone can survive such wounds out here," he said. "Let's go."

They went back the way they came and eventually disappeared behind the rocky hills. Daphne let out a breath of relief. Carrying her bundles of willow bark, she returned to the cave, where her patient was still lying by the remnants of the fire, breathing his shallow breaths and wincing in his sleep. Daphne sighed. It looked like she was going to have to cut her trip short this year.

"Don't make me regret this," she said, though he couldn't hear her.

Chapter 2

A note on the setting: I know that based on the location of the story (Osroene, now southeastern Turkey), the people were more likely to be Mesopotamian than Greek, but I don't know much about Mesopotamian culture and the research overwhelmed me a bit, so I went with Greek for simplicity's sake. A later chapter does include an explanation as to why there is a Greek community in the middle of Mesopotamia (I doubt anyone would care, but I'm a stickler for historical accuracy, even in an alternate history fic.)

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 (as usual, if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[babydin]

Make A Wish - REQUEST

ANON REQUESTED: But what if Sarah never died? And Reader was married to Joel pre-outbreak but when the outbreak happened they (Reader and Sarah) got separated from Joel and he was convinced they had both died. But then they reunite in Jackson.

- Joel Miller x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - Joel is dad, references to violence, domesticated af, angsty, fluff, pre-outbreak, post-outbreak, time-jumps. - 2490 words  - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! A/N: I had some song inspo with this one in the way of Zambezi by Rationale (released under Tinashe). I also headcanoned that the Miller brothers are (at least) half Latino seeing as they had two Latino actors play them. Fight me on it.

Do you remember the day the soldiers came with all their guns? 'Cause I remember begging you to leave my love, "Just run! Past the river, don't you dare look back for me my love. I will come. I will come, because you're the one."

 You knew what you were getting yourself into. Your mother thought you were insane but she didn’t know Joel Miller like you did. He was 4 years divorced when you met him with the sweetest little girl. He made it clear from the outset that he was a single father, and Sarah’s mother had left when Sarah was a baby and she wasn’t coming back “I’m tellin’ y’now because girls tend t’ cut an’ run the second they find out I’m a twofer.” he explained on the first date your best friend had set you up on. “Sarah is my number one, she is my top priority.”

You hadn’t intended to date anyone who ‘was a twofer’ as he put it, but the way he spoke about his daughter, and the way his face lit up when he did, you knew you wanted to give him a shot.   You dated, you married after two years of being together, and you had 8 years of marital bliss as a perfectly happy family before the world turned on its ass.

OUTBREAK DAY

You find Joel and Sarah in the kitchen making dinner. The Clash are playing from a vinyl record in the next room and they’re both so into it; You remember Joel telling you that Sarah had been a fan of the Clash since she was a baby.

“You should be sitting down doing nothing, birthday boy.” You tell him, swatting his rear end playfully as you lean over his shoulder to see what he’s fixing. Of course it’s a chili con carne; he was half Texan half Latino.

“And leave the cookin’ to you two? Yeah ‘cus that’s how I wanna spend the rest of my birthday… dead.”

“Hey!” Sarah drawls.

You pinch his sides and it coaxes a ticklish squeal from him.

Sarah goes to set the dinner table, singing to Joe Strummer's ongoing debate about whether he should stay or whether he should go.

There’s an almighty bang from somewhere and it’s enough to make Joel put his spoon down, “Sarah?”

You both turn around to go into the dining room but Sarah’s on her way back with a fist full of cutlery to ask the same question.

“What the hell was that?” Joel asked, “Did you drop something? Did something fall?”

Sarah shakes her head, her ringlets bounce as she does and her eyes are full of fear.

Joel’s trying to figure out if she means that or if she’s saying no because she’s scared to say yes. The second bang answers his question.

“What the fuck?” he mutters, and goes to the front door to see what’s going on. Sarah finds comfort in your arms and you rub your hand over her back and tell her it’ll be okay. You can hear commotion outside and you put one hand over Sarah’s ear and press her into your chest so she can’t hear.  You can hear Joel talking to the neighbors but you can’t hear what he’s saying, then suddenly there’s a PA urging people to stay inside.

Joel comes back after a few moments, “Military jets,” he says from the hallway as he makes his way back through the house “they just sonic “they just went supersonic, there’s somethin’ happenin’.” he doesn’t come back to you, he goes straight to the living room and turns on the TV. You don’t fully listen to what is said but you hear the words ‘risk to life’ and ‘infected’.

“Jesus fuckin’ christ.”

You jump nearly out of your skin and cling tighter to Sarah when the door bursts open and Joel’s brother Tommy runs through the house “Joelie! Joel!” He finds the two of you in the kitchen and then Joel joins you all.

“What the fuck is going on man?” Joel begs the question, leaning in to turn off the stove. The chili is ruined now, he’s sure of it.

“There are soldiers everywhere, they’re telling everyone to stay inside, but the infection is spreading like wildfire here, if we stay we ain’t got a chance in hell Joel, we have to get out of town.”

You feel Sarah’s body tremble and there’s a slight moisture that falls on your shirt and you realize she’s silently crying. If you squeeze her any tighter she might suffocate but you do anyway, just to try and shield her from the horrors that are unfolding. She had started calling you Mom when she was 9 years old, and you loved her like she was yours from the day you met,  “We can’t just leave. We can’t–” You look at Joel desperately.

Joel looks at you, and he looks at Tommy. You can see he’s torn, he needs to keep his family safe and right now he doesn’t know if leaving is the safest option or staying put is.

Should I stay or should I go? 

“Alright, let’s go.” He says finally. “Go upstairs, throw some stuff in a bag.”

“Hurry up.” Tommy adds.

  You punch him in the chest as you walk past him, holding Sarah’s hand to lead her upstairs to help her pack a bag. You try to keep her talking to distract her from the screaming, and the gunfire from the situation that has escalated outside, through the window you see a faint glow of flames and you wonder how the hell you’re even going to make it out of the town. It’s difficult for a 14 year old to whittle down the most important things in her life to one rucksack, it’s difficult for you to decide what from your 10 year relationship with Joel means enough to survive the apocalypse. Because that’s how it felt. You take your wedding photos, you take childhood photos from Sarah’s life; things like that can’t be replaced but other shit can.

You both head back downstairs and you throw Joel his bag. The vinyl has stopped and it’s now skipping but it doesn’t feel like there’s time to lift the needle. You just leave the house and cram into Tommy’s truck. Something down the street catches Joel’s eye and he gets back out again.

“Joel!” you and Tommy both yell at the same time Sarah cries out “Daddy!”

“I’ll catch you up!” he yells back.

“The fuck you will.” You mutter under your breath, getting out of the truck too, “Joel Miller!”

He stops and turns around, “Run.” he orders, looking over your shoulder at his crying daughter in the back seat of the truck, “I’ll find you.” he looks back at you, “I promise I’ll find you.”

There are soldiers surrounding you who start to scream at you to get back inside your house, their guns aimed to tell you that their threats are serious.

“I’ll find you.” 

FOUR YEARS LATER

You knew what you were getting yourself into. You knew what you were getting yourself into when you fell in love with Joel Miller and his four year old daughter. Your mother thought you were insane and maybe she was right. What you didn’t expect was for a bunch of mutant mushrooms to eat away at people’s brains and turn them into, well, there was no easier way to say it than zombies. You didn’t expect Joel to be missing, presumed dead, and to raise Sarah mostly by yourself. The people of Jackson were helpful people, they were in a tight knit community because they had no choice but to be. Where else were they going to go in a world of nothing? It had been four years since you last saw Joel. Four years, nine months and twenty nine days to be exact. You made a point to count the days because you didn’t want Sarah to ever miss a birthday. She was turning 18 now, and if the world was normal she’d be getting excited to make plans for college and register to vote - because Sarah Miller was very opinionated and had a good head on her shoulders, and she definitely would not have let her voice go unheard - but the world wasn’t normal. So you woke as you always did, tucked up together in a double bed, the morning sun illuminating the room with a golden glow and the two of you stretching like a couple of lazy house cats. “Happy birthday, baby!” You croak, pulling her closer. The older she got the closer your relationship became, it might’ve been pathetic but she was your best friend and you hoped you were hers. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult (although it pained you to admit she hadn’t been a child for a long time). “Thank you.” She smiled sleepily and scrubbed her eyes. She wouldn’t have known if it weren’t for you counting down the days. “What’s your birthday wish this year?” You ask. Sarah sighed and looked over your shoulder at the photograph on your nightstand of you and Joel on your wedding day, six year old Sarah who had been a flower girl, tucked onto his hip as you all smiled into the camera. A perfect picture of a happy family. “Him.” It’s been the same wish for the last four years, and you wish you could fulfill it for her. “I know, baby. I miss him too.. More than anything actually. I don’t miss going to the movies, or grocery shopping, or parent-teacher conferences or any of the boring, mundane stuff that just doesn’t exist anymore. At least not in the capacity that it used to… I just miss him.” In an attempt to lighten the mood a little you add, “I made a cake for you last night, you want some for your breakfast?” “For breakfast?!” “It’s your birthday! And you’re an adult now.” The day passes by as the days often do, slowly and unspectacularly. On slow days nothing happens in Jackson, occasionally bandits come and try to raid the dam that powers the town but their missions are always shut down quickly by those appointed to secure it. You and Sarah are tending to the patch of vegetables you have in your front yard when you hear a voice from the entrance of the town echo “Stop right there!” Both of you look up. You can’t see what’s happening but you wish people would stop pointing their guns. You can only assume someone has wandered through the forest and found the town, the guard on the gate has stopped them in their tracks. Understandably, newcomers aren’t welcomed warmly in fear of infection. You see the person set down a rifle, and a backpack and their hands disappear from their side to, you assume, rise in surrender. You strain slightly and hear a gruff voice speak but you cannot make out words and no matter where you position yourself you cannot get a good look at the newcomer.  The guard yells for Tommy, who is always close by and your interest is piqued. You rise from your knees and your eyes scan for where Tommy is going to come from, when you find him you watch him, you study his face and you watch it fall. He points a finger at the guard, “Put your fucking gun down! Don’t you dare! Don’t you shoot!” he picks up his pace, he jogs, he runs. You start to walk and you hear a second voice yell for Tommy. It’s the newcomer’s voice. It’s familiar somehow. The two men come into view, locked in a tight embrace, you can only see Tommy but you keep walking towards them, you barely hear Sarah calling out ‘Mom’ from the swirling in your head. “Tommy?” You ask when you’re in earshot. The newcomer pries himself out of Tommy’s grip and his head snaps in your direction. A lump forms in your throat and your chest heaves so much you feel as if you could throw up. Joel. It’s him. It’s really him. He’s got flecks of silver running through his hair now, maybe a few more wrinkles. Patches of darkened skin from wounds he’s gained over the years, and a few small fresh purple bruises. You haven’t seen him cry since Sarah moved up from Kindergarten to big girl school and she was gone all day and he didn’t know what to do with himself. You thought he’d be better when she went from middle school to high school but he was just as bad then. But he was crying now. He was sobbing in such a way you wondered if he’d been alone for these years apart; you didn’t ask, it didn’t matter. He was here. You could hardly believe it. Your eyes filled with tears of joy; you had dreamed of the day that Joel might be returned to you, although you had given up hope of that ever happening, you had imagined yourself being the same sobbing mess that Joel was but you weren’t at all. Your body was vibrating with delight, and your smile was so big your cheeks were hurting. “Hi.” you whispered. That was all it took for him to drag you into his arms and squeeze you so tightly that it almost winded you. You took all of him in again, the feeling of his body against yours, his arms wrapped around you, the smell of him in your nose. “I thought I’d lost you forever.” he whispered, “I thought you’d—” he couldn’t finish that sentence, but you knew, because you thought the same of him.�� “You said you’d find us. You did.” Us. Joel’s eyes open and scan the surroundings over your shoulder, you hear him sob and he pulls away from you and he runs towards her. His baby girl. Sarah starts crying as she jumps up into his arms, her limbs wrapping around him like a koala bear. It doesn’t matter how old she gets, she’ll always be his baby. You approach them and hear Joel whispering “Look at you,” as he brushes his hand over the back of her head, “my little girl, look at you.” Sarah dropped down so she could look at him too, your arms wrapped around Joel’s middle as he studied her face so carefully, his fingers delicately mapping out her features, “You’re all grown up,” he says in a chuckle, but with a hint of sorrow in his voice. “I wished for you.” Sarah tells him, her voice has more childlike innocence in it than you’ve heard in a long time. “Today is my birthday, Daddy. I wished for you.” Joel put one arm around you so he could embrace the both of you, “I always knew you were magic, babygirl.” “Are you staying here with us? Are we going to be a family again?” “No.” you answer before Joel does, much to the surprise of your husband and daughter, “Not until he’s had a shower.” Joel breathes out a sigh of relief and kisses your forehead.

[infinito2017]

Infinito 2017 - Overcoming the Nothing and the Ignorance of Virtual Reality

Infinito 2017 - Overcoming the Nothing and the Ignorance of Virtual Reality [cover]

[sebscore]

hey lovely! i love how u write and i’ve just had this idea for a request for a while and it’s with charles and u know how he plays the piano 😁 so the reader loves to sing and has a really nice voice so he loves to play like an adele song and let her just singgg. I think it’s so sweeet, have nice day/night ily!!🫶

PIANO PRINCE | CHARLES LECLERC

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: this is heavily inspired by taylor swift and joe alwyn's relationship!

author's note: this is probably the first and only time I'll ever complete a request the day it was requested lol- I'm proud of myself. I know it is not exactly like how you suggested it, but I still hope you enjoy it! thanks for the support and I hope you have a nice day!

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''There is this one name that comes up a few times in the song credits,'' Jimmy puts the cover art of her new album down, ''Jules Perceval.'' He reads out loud, a humorous grin on his face.

Y/N nods her head, already knowing where this was going. ''Yes, Jules Perceval.'' She confirms.

''Your fans are quite confused on who this person is, because it's the first time they've shown up in your album credits and they have a lot of theories so can you confirm who Jules Perceval is?'' Her publicist had already confirmed with Jimmy's team that they had permission to ask about the mystery person that had producing credits on her new body of work.

The singer laughs as the audience reacts enthusiastically. ''Yes, I can,'' she mischievously smiles at Jimmy who claps his hands, ''Jules Perceval is a pseudonym for my boyfriend.'' As soon as the words left her mouth, the crowd started applauding and making 'ooh'- noises.

''Your boyfriend? Is he a composer or?'' The host grows more curious at the revelation that it's her significant other.

She shakes her head. ''No, he's actually a, uh, race car driver.'' Y/N chuckles, Jimmy's surprised face amusing her greatly.

''A race car driver? Wow, that's quite a contrast,'' he laughs, the audience giggling along with him, ''how did you guys end up working together? Because your jobs are vastly different.'' He asks, putting his cards down.

''It wasn't planned, but Charles- my boyfriend- he loves playing the piano and he's been doing that for years, and one day he was just playing around on it and not taking it very seriously, but he played this certain melody that caught my attention,'' she explained, ''I asked him to play it again, recorded it on my phone and I send it to my producer that I usually work with.''

''He sent a more worked out version of the melody back and that's how it came about.'' She finished her explanation.

Jimmy and the audience looked impressed. ''That's amazing! And why did he decide to use a pseudonym and not his real name?''

''We wanted people to listen to the song without having any higher expectations simply because he was in the credits.'' Y/N answers, diplomatically.

''Jules Perceval sounds very fancy,'' Jimmy smiled, gathering some laughs from the crowd, ''did you come up with that or did your boyfriend?''

''That was all him,'' she grinned, ''his godfather is named Jules and one of his middle names is Perceval so that's how the name came about.'' Y/N remembers clearly how proud Charles looked as he told her and her team which name he wanted to be credited under.

''I love that! Well, if the racing doesn't work out, he has another profession he can get right into.'' Jimmy teased, leaning his arms on the desk.

Y/N giggled, hiding her face in her hands. ''I'll tell him that.''

''So… I can quit racing, huh?'' Charles' tired voice sounded over the phone, the mischief still present.

Y/N snorted at his greeting. ''You watched the interview then, I thought you might be too busy to watch it.''

''Of course I saw it, it was your first time on the show- I couldn't miss it.'' His words melted her heart, touched by the fact that he still took the time to watch her interview despite being busy in Italy with simulator work.

''I really appreciate it, honey- I hope you're doing well, you sound very tired.'' His voice was a bit deeper than usual, indicating just how exhausted he was.

She could hear him chuckle on the other side. ''I'm fine, chérie,'' he assured her, ''it was just a long day, that's all.''

Y/N was about to reply, but her manager waved her hands in front of her face. ''I'm sorry, we have to go now.'' She whispered, pointing at the door of the dressing room.

''You have to go, huh?'' Charles sighed.

''Yeah,'' the singer pouted, disappointed the couple didn't get to call for at least a few more minutes, ''I'll call you later, though.''

''It's okay, mon amour,'' despite not seeing him, she was sure he was smiling, ''I'm always proud of you, okay? I'm thinking of you.'' The driver let her know the words in his heart.

''I'm thinking of you too- I love you.'' Y/N bid him goodbye.

''Je t'aime.''

[reasonandempathy]

The weird radical/revolutionary politic larpers on this site are so allergic to political pragmatism I swear lmao. I am definitely left of the Democratic Party and I am certainly voting for Joe Biden in November. Not because I like him (I don’t). He is absolutely horrific on Gaza and that’s only the top (and priority considering there is a genocide going on there) of a list of complaints I have about him. I even voted uncommitted in my state’s presidential primary (the Pennsylvania one; I had to write it in) to protest. However, I’m still thinking pragmatically. Trump has said things that make me credibly think he will be worse on Gaza (insane that being worse on Gaza than Biden is possible but it is unfortunately), and that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Project 2025, the potential for him to appoint more deeply conservative justices, more of his aggressively screwing over poor and middle class people with his tax policies. And does anyone else remember the spike in hate crimes after the race was called for him in 2016? Before he was even inaugurated? Whether people vote or not in November we will still have to deal with one of these two men in office come January unless all of the internet ancom larpers overthrow the government by then (doubt), so I’d rather deal with the one who will be marginally less bad and who didn’t try to overthrow the government. Can’t have your revolution if nobody’s alive cause you kept pushing off politically participating because there was no perfect option. 👍

Political pragmatist anon, sorry for ranting in your askbox but I feel like I lose brain cells watching these people talk. The other day I saw someone say Biden is bad because Roe v. Wade fell under his administration… even though the reason for that was Trump appointed justices. 💀 (2/2)

Fucking insane. Sincerely.

It's a completely, flatly binary choice for anyone with a brain stem and sincerity. It's distilled into the two below images:

Where all major third party candidates are even on the ballot

How many electoral votes the largest of those (green party, a.k.a. Jill Stein) would win if they won every single state they're on the ballot for.

They are literally, legally, incapable of winning the election. They are not on enough state ballots to win and Jill Stein would need to somehow win California and Texas to even "win" all the states they're on the ballot for. Which, again, would still not be enough to win the presidency and throw it to the currently existing Republican House of Representatives. Which would put Trump in office.

It's that straightforward. That simple. That BLARINGLY obvious to literally everyone except these people.

On the one hand you have:

Significant and continuous support for Israel and it's genocide

Record levels of pardons for low-level drug offenses

the gearing up of the strongest anti-trust regime since the early 20th century

the most aggressive NLRB I've seen in my lifetime, with massive wins and institutional changes to help workers

Including getting Rail strike workers a week of sick-leave that gets paid out at the end of the year, which is better than NYC and LA sick leave laws

Millions of people (not enough) getting student debt forgiveness

Some trillion dollars (not enough)of investment in renewable resources and infrastructure

Proposed taxes on unrealized capital gains (a.k.a. how billionaires never have any money but can still buy Kentucky, Iowa, and Twitter)

Effectively an end to overdraft fees

The explicit support of leftist world leaders like Lula de Silva. Who he has explicitly worked with to expand worker rights in South America.

Has capped (some, not enough, only a tiny amount really but it's something) some drug prices, including Insulin.

Reduced disability discrimination in medical treatment

Billions in additional national pre-k funding

Ending federal use of private prisons

Pushing bills to raise Social Security tax thresholds higher to help secure the General Fund

Increasing SSI benefits

and more

vs

Said Israel should just nuke Gaza and "get it over with"

Personally takes pride in and credit for getting Roe v Wade overturned

Is arguing in court that the President should be allowed to assassinate political rivals

Muslim Ban Bullshit, insistently

Actively damages our global standing and diplomatic efforts just by getting obsessed with having a Big Button

Implemented massive tax cuts on ich people, tax hikes on middle class and poor people, and actively wants to do it again

"Only wants to be a dictator for a little bit, guys, what's the big deal"

Is loudly publicly arguing that the US shouldn't honor its military alliances after-the-fact

Tore up an effective and substantial anti-nuclear-proliferation treaty with Iran

Had a DoEd that actively just refused to process student debt forgiveness applications that have been the law of the land for decades now

Has a long record of actively curtailing and weakening the NLRB and labor movement, including allowing managers to retaliate against workers, weakened workplace accommodation requirements for disabled people, and more

Rubber stamped a number of massive mergers building larger, more powerful top companies and increasing monopolistic practices

Fucking COVID Bullshit and hundreds of thousands of unnecessary deaths

Openly supporting fascists and wannabe-bootlicks ("Very fine people" being only the beginning of it

It's really not fucking close.

[barnesafterglow]

night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become. 

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

-

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

-

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha. 

-

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then. 

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

-

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

-

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

-

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

-

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

[tiannasfanfic]

Paparazzi

Eddie Munson x Reader (Angst)

| Eddie Munson Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: All of Eddie Munson's dreams come true when Corroded Coffin finally catches their big break. But once the record deal is signed, the executives take control of their images, lives and their relationships.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Author Note: Afab reader, they/them pronouns. Angst with a Happy Ending. Rockstar!Eddie AU where record labels have old Hollywood like control of their artists lives.

CW: Controlling behavior from record label; social alcohol use; secret relationship; mentions of cheating but no actual cheating; smut (kissing, fingering, blowjob, tit job, p in v, slight exhibitionism); consensual non-con photos taken by paparazzi.

Word Count: 12,937

Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore

Life is a bit complicated when you are the secret girlfriend of a rockstar. While it certainly comes with a lot of benefits, and the lifestyle it provided was beyond anything in your wildest dreams, it came at the steep price of some heartache and emotional discomfort.

Though, in all honesty, “secret” was purely a subjective word at this point. The rest of the band knew. All of their people knew. The record label knew. The touring crew knew. His wife knew. All of her people knew. Anyone that needed to know knew.

The general public, on the other hand, did not know, which is how you found yourself the mistress of your high school sweetheart.

How exactly did this happen, you ask?

Now that certainly is quite a story.

Once Eddie’s name had been cleared of all murder charges, the members of Corroded Coffin made getting the hell out of Hawkins their number one priority. It took a little over a year once the last member graduated from high school, but the band was finally able to make the move together to Indianapolis. They shared a small, one room apartment since it was all they could afford and set out to make a name for themselves.

Like most bands, Corroded Coffin was discovered purely by chance. After a couple years of playing in bars around the city, one of their shows was seen by an agent from Los Angeles, who happened in town for a wedding and took a break from family to relax to some local music. That’s how the band met Joe, the man who would become their manager and who would help catapult them to success.

With Joe’s help, they got a demo recorded and then Joe managed to get one of their songs on the radio. It took off, giving the band quite a bit of local popularity. After yet another move, this time to LA, they once again started over fresh, but soon Joe had them playing regular gigs around the city. It was only a matter of time before they were signed to a label and their demo re-recorded to be released as their first studio album.

It was shortly after this, when the band began to rise in popularity, that they realized how little the music industry actually dealt with music. Creating and maintaining an image was the largest priority.

And the image they had, as it turns out, was metal as hell right out the gate.

Four childhood friends from a small town in Indiana that were bullied for being outcasts. They lost three, almost four, classmates to serial killer Henry Creel. Front man, Eddie Munson, was initially accused of the murders due to being a metalhead loner but was eventually cleared on all charges. They survived a devastating earthquake that nearly destroyed their hometown but destroyed their homes. The front man himself then spent months recovering from a physical assault that nearly killed him and left prominent scars on his body. Through it all, they stuck together.

Everything about their story, particularly Eddie’s, was absolute perfection. It paired beautifully with their music and lyrics, with Eddie’s descriptions of bats in an upside down being seen as a metaphor for bullies terrorizing their victims.

It was all perfect except for one tiny detail.

You.

“Absolutely fucking not!” Eddie yelled, jumping to his feet so fast the chair nearly toppled backwards. “Whoever thought of that one can shove it up their ass!”

It been a casual, relaxed Monday morning up until that point. Everyone was well rested coming off the weekend. It had been quiet one, giving you all some much needed time off. The majority of it you and Eddie spent at home. Despite the fact you two went everywhere and did everything together, you never grew tired of each other’s company.

However, everyone went from relaxed to angry in two seconds once Joe told them what the executives at the label had suggested for Eddie to give himself an edger image.

“Eddie, let’s just-“ Joe started to say, slowly rising to his feet behind his desk, his hands making a settle down gesture.

“Let’s just what?” Gareth interrupted, looking as furious as Eddie, but still sitting down.

“Let’s just talk about this calmly,” Joe said. “I wasn’t saying I-“

“There’s nothing to talk about!” Jeff interrupted now, also angry looking.

“Right!” Nick yelled, jumping to his feet. “We’re not going to ditch Y/N and leave them behind for no good fucking reason!”

But in the minds of the label executives, they had a very good reason for suggesting this.

It was all about image. Single front men drew more attention, they said, especially when they looked like Eddie. He was someone every guy wanted to be, and every woman wanted to fuck, which would result in higher popularity in both market segments. Plus, with everything Eddie had been through, they wanted him to project himself as a lonely bad boy, but one who had a different girl on his arm every night.

Apparently, being with someone for fourteen years wasn’t very metal, nor did it mesh with the image of young, rock n’ roll promiscuity they felt Eddie should portray as his lifestyle.

Obviously, this upset you all. After so many years of leaning on each other, you all were a family now. You might as well have been in the band yourself with how close you all were.

You had been around even before Corroded Coffin, when it was just you and Eddie, two middle schoolers who fell deeply in love on the first day of school. You were there for the founding, and you were technically their very first manager even before Joe. You had worked your ass off promoting them as best you could, first at the school then the bars around Hawkins. You went with them to Indianapolis, lived in the shitty apartment with them, and dealt with just as many asshole bar owners to get them on stage time, if not more.

And then you did it all over again without complaint when they set up shop in LA, only under the helpful guiding eye of Joe. It had been a long and crazy road for the five of you, but you got through it all supporting each other.

You belonged here with them, and they knew it as well as you did. They weren’t about to just leave you behind, nor would you have let them. Not now, not ever, and certainly not just a few weeks before their first major tour as an opening act. The tour was kicking off in Seattle, hometown of the headliners. You were going to see the country with them if they had anything to say about it.

“Guys!” Joe barked, finally having to raise his voice to get their attention again. “I don’t agree with it either!”

That got them to simmer down enough that he was able to continue uninterrupted.

“Kid, I get it,” he said, putting his hands on the desk to lean over and make eye contact with the wrecked front man. “Believe me, I get it. Valerie and I hit thirty-five years next week. Coral anniversary. I still have no fucking clue what to get her. But I do know one thing.” Joe pointed one finger at Eddie. “I wouldn’t give her up either on any man’s word either.”

Joe sat back down, then made a gesture for them to do the same. Nick obliged with a heavy sigh, but Eddie came to stand behind your chair, his ringed hands resting on your shoulders. Joe pulled his glasses off to rub the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“It was only a suggestion,” he said as he put his glasses back on. “Nothing has been passed down as Word from God yet. Yet.” He held up a finger as he said the second yet. “But some of the big guys see potential in this storyline for you, which means they see money in it for them.”

“So, what are you saying?” Eddie asked with a tight voice, his hands squeezing your shoulders.

“I’m saying, now that the idea has been brought up, it’s not likely to go away,” Joe said, then leaned back in his chair. “And, judging by how excited they seem about this one, I’m guessing the order to actually sever ties with Y/N will come down soon. They’ll want time for the word about Corroded Coffin’s newly single front man to get around before the tour starts.”

Everyone quietly stared at him, speechless.

“That quick, eh?” you said, finally breaking the silence. Joe nodded regretfully. In an attempt to lighten the mood, you looked up at Eddie with a half grin. “Babe, most guys would kill for this chance. You might want to think it over a little more carefully.”

Joe was the only one to laugh, but he quickly turned it into a cough at the glare he got from Eddie.

The glare softened before it was turned on you, but you still got glared at regardless.

“This isn’t funny, Precious,” he said, and you could see it in his eyes that he was close to panic. “They’re fools if they think I would discard you so easily into the fires of Mount Doom.”

One thing you learned about Eddie Munson a long time ago is, when he’s under a lot of stress, be it from the chord of a song being difficult to having to hide at Skull Rock wanted for murder, he starts making Lord of the Rings references about the situation.

You reached up to rest one hand on top of his and gave it a soft squeeze. Eddie quickly wound his fingers through yours so you were holding hands.

“You’ve gotta admit though,” you said, smiling reassuringly. “Those assholes do have a point, babe. Most guys don’t get into this business while attached. They live a rowdy life and never settle down until they either marry a porn star or marry the mistress they cheated on their first wife with.”

As you spoke, Eddie’s face became a mask of abject horror. He quickly came around to drop to his knees in front of your chair and took your face in his hands.

“Sweetheart, please tell me we’re not splitting up right now,” he whispered, looking near tears.

“We’re not,” you said firmly, taking his face in your hands. “Absolutely fucking not. I just said they have a good point.”

Relief washed over his face, and he wrapped you in his arms. After you exchanged a tight hug, Joe cleared his throat so your attention would come back to him.

“Now, as I was about to say before you all started yelling at me,” he said, pausing to give them a fatherly glare before continuing. “There is an alternative, but it will require a lot of discretion from you two lovebirds.”

Since Corroded Coffin didn’t have much media attention outside of local music papers, you were still an unknown name in the scene. Local places knew you as Eddie’s girl. In interviews, if relationships ever came up, Eddie had only referred to you as “my girl” instead of by name. You certainly weren’t in any of the official photos the band had done. You could fade into the background easily and go unnoticed.

Based on Joe’s suggestion, which was immediately approved by the guys before you could get a word in edgewise, you went from Eddie’s longtime sweetheart to his personal assistant. That was actually the next matter on the agenda anyway since Eddie was the only member of the band without one and he needed to get the hiring done soon before the tour started.

Two birds, one stone, as they say.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you protested as the guys were taking turns high giving Joe for his ingenuity. “I’ve never been a personal assistant before! I’m not going to know what the hell I’m doing!”

“You’ll be fine,” Joe said, turning to you with a warm smile. “Trust me, my dear, I’ve had many personal assistants over the years and I’m quite sure none of them knew what they were doing either.”

Fortunately, Gareth’s personal assistant, Lucy, did know what she was doing. She was able to give you a crash course in the weeks leading up to the tour so you would know what the typical day of a personal assistant is like before you were throw into it.

While you took to your new responsibilities with ease and spent just as much time with Eddie day to day as you did before, the change in your status didn’t really become apparent until after you had left the home comforts of LA.

Two nights before the first concert of the tour, the headliners wanted to give everyone a proper welcome to Seattle by treating the bands to a night on the town. Since It was their first ever tour as the main act, they were in the mood to party. Band members, their entourages, and dates only.

Since it would look a little odd for Eddie to be the only one showing up with his personal assistant as a date, you had to break the news to him that you weren’t going. This resulted in you having to nearly force him into going since staying in with his personal assistant rather than partying with a famous band would look even odder.

While you were just as upset as Eddie, you didn’t let it show. He could tell. You knew he could tell. But keeping a brave face kept his cracks from showing. He could keep it together if you could, and that’s exactly what you did. You helped him get ready and shared the elevator down with the band until it reached the floor your room was on. All of the boys were sad you wouldn’t be joining and hugged you before you exited. With nothing left to do today, your plan was to raid the mini fridge and cry.

You were well into your second tiny bottle of vodka when a frantic knocking at the door to your room nearly gave you a heart attack. Then your mind immediately went to Eddie. Thinking he had changed his mind about staying, you rushed to the door, not sure if you were about to hug him or yell at him.

Instead, you found a very breathless Lucy standing outside.

“Here,” she said, thrusting several shopping bags into your arms. “Change into that and get your ass down to the hotel bar pronto.”

You blinked several times, looking from Lucy to the bag then back to Lucy.

“What’s going o-“

“No time to explain, just do it!” she hissed urgently, then retired to her room across from yours.

Twenty minutes later, as you stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby, you immediately regretted your decision to play along with whatever Lucy had planned.

Inside the bag had been an outfit that made it easier for you to blend in among the groupies scattered about the lobby. It was tight in all the right places, layered everywhere else just right to smooth everything out as it hugged close your body and pushed everything up to just the right angles. When paired with the high-quality black wig you found one of the other bags, you hardly recognized yourself. While it was far from your normal style, while in the privacy of your room, even you had to admit that you looked damn good. Feeling bold, you added some dark makeup, the jacket from the final bag and a pair of your own shoes to top everything off.

It was easy to feel confident while in your room, and even while on the way downstairs, but now as several patrons in the lobby looked you over, appraising you, you felt exposed and extremely uncomfortable.

You swallowed nervously, took a deep breath to calm yourself, and then did your best to ignore any leering stares as you headed for the hotel bar just as Lucy instructed.

A loud cacophony of voices and laughter hit your ears as soon as you walked in. The place was packed. You hadn’t realized this was where the bands would be gathering to meet up. It looked like they were still waiting on a few people, so they were having a few drinks as they waited to set off.

As you made your way over to sit at the bar itself, you glanced around the room. It didn’t take you long to spot Corroded Coffin. You couldn’t help but smile seeing them. Three of the guys seemed to have already found a companion for the night, while Eddie sat there playing with his rings and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. It almost made you laugh how sullen he looked, but you kept your cool as you took a seat. Since Lucy hadn’t given you any other instructions, you ordered yourself a drink.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to wait around long to figure out what scheme Lucy had been a part of. Not long after you began sipping your drink, you were fetched from the bar by Garth’s bodyguard and lead to the Corroded Coffin table.

Gareth grinned at you as he watched your approach. The glimmer he had in his eye told you this had been his plan rather than Lucy’s.

“Good evening, miss,” Gareth said to you as you stopped at their table. “I couldn’t help but notice you sitting at the bar all alone. Are expecting company this evening?”

You shook your head, desperately trying to keep a straight face.

Gareth straightened up brightly, then winked at the redhead sitting with him, who giggled.

Sometime between high school and now, Gareth had become quite charming with the ladies. Granted, he wasn’t trying at all that hard with you, just enough to sell the ruse, but whatever he had said to the young woman earlier clearly still had her under his spell.

“Wonderful!” he said, then gestured extravagantly to Eddie. “My friend here also happens to be without company for the evening. We’re about to head out to dinner, but it doesn’t feel right for him to be here alone. Would you care to join him?”

You finally let your gaze slide around the table, taking in the happy grins of Jeff and Nick, before letting your gaze land on Eddie.

And you almost lost your shit laughing.

He was now sitting with his eyes closed, his facial expression a mix of annoyance and resignation, as if he were now mentally preparing himself for a long evening with unwanted companionship.

“Hmm, I’m not so sure,” you said, keeping your gaze on Eddie and tilting your head at him. “Your friend sure doesn’t look like he wants my company.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie’s eyes shot open, and he looked up at you in confusion. It took a moment for him to register what he was seeing. His jaw dropped as realization set in.

“Pfft, that’s just his normal face,” Gareth said, making all the girls at the table laugh, and you looked back over to see him wave his hand through the air in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m sure he’d love to have your company.” He looked over at the front man with a grin. “Wouldn’t you, Eddie?”

Despite the verbal cue from Gareth, Eddie just continued to stare at you until the blonde sitting between him and Jeff finally elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, y-yeah,” Eddie murmured, jumping out of the booth. He cleared his throat then stepped aside, gesturing to the seat with a bow. “It’d be an honor if you would grace me with your presence, m’lady.”

The other women at table giggled at Eddie as you lowered yourself into the booth, but as you scooted over to make room for Eddie, the brunette at Nick’s side started to pout.

“Aww,” she said, winking at you. “I was just about to say, if he didn’t want your company, we certainly wouldn’t mind a third.” She looked up at Nick and winked at him. “Would we, Nicky?”

Nick nearly choked on his drink, eyes slightly widening in horror at the idea of a threesome with the girl he thought of like a sister.

“N-nah,” he said, fumbling his words for a second before thinking of a good response. “I’m a one-woman man and, baby, you’re all I need tonight.”

It was a good recovery. Nick’s words had brunette giggling and blushing. You couldn’t help but grin yourself, remembering back when Nick used to be a stammering fool around the other sex instead of the smooth talker he was now.

You couldn’t help but wonder right then where the time had gone.

As soon as Eddie was seated next to you, he wasted no time before throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. A round of introductions began, where you then pretended to not know anyone at the table.

It didn’t take long for the guys to return their attention back to their respective ladies, leaving you and Eddie in your own little bubble at the end of the table.

“Getting a bit handsy aren’t we?” you couldn’t help but giggle as he leaned in to nuzzle your ear, keeping your tone soft enough only he could hear you. “After all, we only just met, like, five seconds ago.”

Your hand slid over into his lap to softly squeeze his thigh as you spoke. Eddie sucked his breath in through his teeth, then you felt him grin against your ear.

“Well, they do say the front man of Corroded Coffin is a bit of a whore,” he said to you softly, then took ahold of your chin with his free hand and turned your head gently so you were looking at him. “And I’d say that makes me your whore, now, doesn’t it?”

Much later that night, when Eddie brought the raven-haired woman back to the hotel, he made sure everyone in the surrounding rooms heard exactly how much of a whore he was for you.

That was how things continued for most nights on the tour, with you being snuck along to parties as Eddie’s piece of ass for the night. While this wasn’t what either of you had pictured when dreaming of your life together once he made it big, Eddie didn’t care so long as you could be by his side. No matter how you were dressed, now he actually had the money to the queen you always were to him. The whole crew figured out the scheme halfway into the tour schedule, but they pretended not to for plausible deniability’s sake.

The record label wasn’t exactly happy with Eddie’s interpretation of their desires but couldn’t exactly say it wasn’t effective. The front man of Corroded Coffin was projecting exactly the image they wanted; a hard partying bad boy who had his pick of women every night. Who cared if it was the same woman in a wig? So long as Eddie kept playing it up, and your true identity went undetected, they had to let it go.

That was until they were in the studio working on their next album and Eddie unknowingly opened the door for them to finally step in.

A couple months had passed since that first tour successfully wrapped up. Corroded Coffin was enjoying more fame and publicity, but despite the happy, smiling personas the guys wore in public, they were all varying degrees of miserable. It was hard to be happy when they had little to no control over their lives.

On the day they signed with their record deal with the label, Nick made the joke that they were signing their souls away. It turned out to be a very prophetic statement. While Eddie received the brunt of it being the front man, life wasn’t much better for the rest of the band. None of them really had a say in major life decisions anymore. Even potential relationships had to be approved by label executives first.

While everyone was upset about it, there was no one more upset than Eddie. By signing his soul away, he felt like he had inadvertently signed yours away as well.

A few months after they began working on the album, the next big story in entertainment news broke. An actor just had a baby with his former personal assistant. This was the same personal assistant he was caught having an affair with the year before via telephoto lens.

While it wasn’t exactly the same situation, it inspired Eddie. Now that Corroded Coffin had started attending more publicity events, he wanted things to go back to normal with you two. He missed being able to be free with his affection for you. He had Joe pitch the idea to the label that involved him starting to publicly date his own personal assistant. It shouldn’t cause a stir like the actor did because he was single, Joe reasoned on Eddie’s behalf. They could restart their relationship over in the public eye. No one would be any wiser. Pretending to be a new couple wouldn’t be hard since the guys often teased you both about how your honeymoon period was still going on.

While the label executives did agree it was time for Eddie to start settling down and have a regular date on his arm, they had different ideas as to who would be his girl.

Eddie was then informed he would be entering an arranged relationship with someone of their choosing. However, they wouldn’t be dating for long. Not due to a breakup, but because they would be married within the next two months. It was an arrangement that would be beneficial for everyone, the executives reassured.

For his future bride, they had chosen adult actress and dancer Deandra Day. She had starred in the two most recent Corroded Coffin videos and had recently began dancing live at their local shows. The new storyline the label had in mind for Eddie was the bad boy that finally met the right woman and settled down.

And, with that, they expressly stated that Eddie was now a one-woman man effectively immediately. His public persona was to now be a man deeply in love with his wife. There were to be no more one-night stands with women from hotel bars.

The news hit hard, for both you and Eddie.

Marriage was one of the things you two had always put off for later. Mainly it had been Eddie who wanted to wait, wanting to put on a grand spectacle when it finally did happen. He had known on the very first day of sixth grade when you gave him your extra pencil that he was going to marry you. He had told you as much right then and he could still remember how baffled you initially looked after that statement. But then you grinned and said okay, the memory of voice right then could still make Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

Eddie still wanted to marry you just as much now as he did when he was twelve years old. The idea of marrying anyone else completely shattered him.

They were leaving you with your duties as his personal assistant, but little else. Your position ensured you would still be there backstage at concerts, interviews, on tours and on location during shoots. That was it. The after parties, fancy dinners, VIP sections, limo tours of cities, everything else was cut off to you now. You would have to stand back and watch as another woman took your rightful place.

While you were just as upset as Eddie about it, you weren’t exactly surprised. The executives didn’t like it when their artists outsmarted them. And you had been warned that they held grudges. Joe had long suspected the label would eventually make a play to get rid of you again in order to mold Eddie into the artist they wanted him to be. As much as Joe had tried to prepare you for it, that didn’t stop it from hurting when finally happened.

Ironically, the one redeeming quality in the whole situation was actually Eddie’s wife to be. The label had unknowingly given the both of you a huge boon in choosing Deandra for this new role.

Deandra had no interest in an intimate connection with Eddie. For her, the marriage was purely a business arrangement to further her career goals. After being in the adult industry for so long, she was interested in branching out into music. While she was a talented singer, getting a foot in the door was hard for anyone just starting out, no matter their fame in other form of entertainment. The music industry was very competitive, and one that had a lot of turnover. Deandra didn’t want to be a one hit wonder or have one good album then fade into the background. She actually wanted to have a long-term career. This marriage to Eddie would open the doors she needed in order to be successful much faster than they would normally open for her. Her commitment to the label only required the marriage to last for a minimum two years with the option to renew, which she had no intention of doing.

While on the surface it seemed like there was nothing in this for Eddie aside from having a beautiful actress on his arm, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. The evenings spent on Eddie’s arm may have ended for you, but the appearance of a steady relationship opened other avenues for you to be together.

There was no need to recruit Deandra into your conspiracy. She identified the relationship after Eddie introduced you at the very first video shoot simply by the way he did it.

“He introduced you the way any man should introduce his wife,” she explained after asking them directly how long they’d been together. “And most men I’ve met don’t even introduce their own wives with that much reverence, much less their personal assistants.”

With her being in your corner, your time with Eddie actually increased after the wedding. Since the record label had no control over Deandra or her schedule, outside of her contractual appearances with Eddie, she was rarely around. Since a majority of her work in adult movies was based in the San Francisco area, she had no intention of ever selling her house to permanently move to Los Angeles. When the studio prodded at Eddie to finally purchase a house with his wife, Deandra made sure she was shooting out of town and busy with projects for other clients. You were officially sent by Deandra in her stead to give you and Eddie the opportunity to finally pick out your dream home together without the prying eyes of the label.

It ended up being way easier for a member of staff to sneak you in and out of the house everyday than it was pretending you were a groupie. The modest mansion just off the beach in Malibu had a six-car garage, two of which were always empty. All you had to do was lay down in the backseat of a car with heavily tinted windows, until they pulled inside and the doors closed. No one was ever the wiser.

Once you were inside, you and Eddie could do as you pleased. The decorator had ensured the place was outfitted with heavy duty blinds and drapes, an oddity for a mansion with such an amazing view of the ocean, but it ensured total privacy. You could be yourselves, even on the rare times Deandra stayed in Malibu. But it was easy to keep to yourselves, Deandra had her own room while you and Eddie had the master bedroom.

The end date of the arranged marriage came while Corroded Coffin was back in the studio working on their fifth album. The joint statement announcing Eddie and Deandra’s separation had been drafted by the label and Deandra’s PR team. The announcement would coincide with the album’s release to garner publicity. From adult movies to music, this was a common marketing tool many entertainers used to drum up publicity for new releases. Sad news such as a divorce always brought in sympathy dollars.

With the popularity of Corroded Coffin at an all-time high, the label executives had been in good spirits about the band for a while. They had started loosening the reins some with its members, allowing them more freedoms in their personal relationships. Joe felt confident that so long as the album succeeded as well as they’d hoped, and the divorce went smoothly, that Eddie would be able to enjoy that same freedom as well.

But just as you began to see light at the end of the tunnel, it winked out of existence.

A former disgruntled employee spoke to a tabloid about the suspiciously close relationship between the married front man of Corroded Coffin and his personal assistant. They provided firsthand accounts of witnessing suspicious behavior that occurred between the two of you.

While the source remained anonymous, everyone suspected an aide that Jeff had recently hired and then almost immediately fired after catching him stealing his fiancés jewelry. The incidents described in the interview were fairly recent, and the former aide was the only unknown among those present for them.

Luckily for the label, the editor of the tabloid who purchased the story owed one of the executives a favor and gave him a call as soon as they had bought the rights to the story. An arrangement was worked out for the label to purchase the story, and it was swiftly buried.

Unluckily for you, the label was angry. While they were willing to tolerate some controversy and scandal generated by their artists, they did not abide major scandals like adultery.

As of that day, you were barred from all properties owned or affiliated with the label. You were also barred from any concert or event sponsored by the label. On top of that, Eddie was told not to enter into any relationships once the divorce was announced because once it was final, they would have someone new already lined up for him. This time, they expected him to be a truly devoted husband and even possibly start a family with his new wife.

It was a complete disaster.

The only time you had with each other now was at home. As much as the label wanted to, they couldn’t control what went on inside the privacy of Eddie’s house, and you technically lived there. In retaliation, they started booking him for more event appearances. publicity appearances and after party appearances, keeping him away from home as much as possible. When he was at home, he was exhausted, and you let him rest as much as possible.

With the new album fixing to be released, a new tour was already being planned. It was to be Corroded Coffins first tour as the only headliner, with their opening act. But it was hard for anyone to be excited knowing you’d effectively be a prisoner on the tour bus unable to enjoy it with them. You wouldn’t be able to leave while at the venues since the tour was label sponsored. Most of the hotels they would be staying at were label affiliated, which ensured you couldn’t set foot on the properties.

Even though the story about Eddie and his personal assistant never broke, whispers overheard at the tabloid office alerted some paparazzi to a potential story regarding Corroded Coffin’s front man. No one knew specifics, of course, just that there were some rumors that Eddie Munson might be cheating on his wife. But paparazzi don’t need specifics to latch onto a lead. The house was now under constant watch, and you and Eddie both were constantly followed. As production on the album grew closer to wrapping, it began to get extremely hard for you to slip to and from your own home unnoticed.

After several miserable weeks, Deandra approached both you and Eddie with an idea.

It was a bold idea. A daring, not to mention extremely provocative, idea. But it was an idea that, if executed correctly, could be just the ticket to the freedom you all so desperately needed. But while it was you and Eddie that would be exposing yourselves to major controversy and possible public humiliation, you weren’t the only three people that would be affected by it. You sought out the rest of the band and they gave their blessing. With Joe, you two decided it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.

It was all up to you and Eddie now.

Using the labels own marketing tactics against them, the three of you decided the best time to enact the plan would be the night after the new album released. The label was sitting on the joint statement regarding the divorce for at least another week, giving the album time to naturally rise up the charts before giving it that sympathy boost.

There was also a second reason for choosing that particular night. While Deandra had been in town for a couple of weeks, that particular evening she would be out for most it. After heading to dinner with her normal entourage, she would then be spending the rest of the evening MCing an event at a local club. With the after party that was to follow, Deandra didn’t expect to be home until close to sunup the next day. It wouldn’t look weird for Eddie to stay at home since they rarely attended anything together save for award shows. Deandra felt like the plan would have a better effect if she were just merely out of the house for the night rather than in another city for several days, if not weeks. It made the whole thing more taboo, in her opinion.

When the night in question finally came around, your nerves kicked up. The finality of it all was starting to sink in. After tonight, there would be no way to hide anymore, no way to blend in with the crowd. You and Eddie both were about to be put at the mercy of public opinion and let the fans decide your ultimate fate out here in California.

Once Deandra had left to head out for dinner, and a suitably long enough time had passed, it was time. Eddie got everything ready while you got changed.

The backyard of your home wasn’t large by mansion standards, but it was far from small by normal standards. It was wider than it was long, holding a rectangle shaped pool with a built-in hot tub on the side closest to the house. Even with that space taken up, there was still room for a small yard complete with privacy fence on one side of the pool, and an outdoor cooking space on the other side. The view below took in the beach and beyond that the beautiful Pacific Ocean.

As the sun lowered past the midpoint of the horizon, the outdoor lights in this little backyard paradise automatically came on. While there were bright security lights at the front and sides of the house, back here the lighting was soft rather than bright, programmed with quiet relaxation in mind. Clear garden lights hung underneath the porch, illuminating the sitting area and hot tub with a gentle glow. Dimly lit solar lamps lined the pool area with enough light to watch your step. The pool itself was lit from within, the water glowing with a soft illumination. There were a few lights dotting along the structure of the house to add lighting to the house itself.

It was your quiet paradise that Eddie helped you find but had been unable to fully enjoy.

Until tonight, at least.

Once you heard the outside speakers begin to softly play some newer music that you both liked, you knew it was time. You made your way downstairs, wearing the bikini Deandra had bought for you earlier that week, your heart pounding the whole way. Every time you caught sight of yourself in a mirror, you couldn’t help but pause to gawk.

While it wasn’t so far away from your normal style that it looked completely out of place on you, it certainly displayed a lot more skin than you were normally willing to show. It fit you well though, the thin fabric hugging your body comfortably tight. Whoever designed it had both sex appeal and wearability in mind.

After a few stops just to stare at yourself, you finally made it to the dark kitchen and then the sliding door leading to the backyard. Looking out, you could see Eddie had already settled himself into the hot tub, his hair wet now and plastered back on his head. He was in a relaxed posed; both arms up behind him on the edge of the hot tub, with his head tilted back and eyes closed.

Your gaze shifted over to your yard, then let your eyes drift slightly beyond it to the vine covered fence. Somewhere in that area hidden by vines and shadows, you knew two of the slats in the fence had been cut from the outside. The hole this left could easily accommodate a wide-angle camera lens. It was a fairly recent vandalism, done within the last few weeks when the paparazzi really began staking out the house. And you knew with as many people that had been caught spying on the house in that same time period, it was likely that the hole was always manned.

Normally, this gross violation of privacy would have severely angered you, but now it had the opportunity to work in your favor. Whoever was currently behind the peep hole would be getting a clear view of everything that was about to happen.

You took a deep breath, tried to calm yourself one last time, and stepped out the door.

Eddie didn’t hear the door when you opened it, too lost in this peaceful moment of solitude. However, he did hear the soft click of it shutting over the low music and soft hum of the jets and lifted his head to turn towards you. It took a second for the image he was seeing to translate in his brain, but when it did, his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

No matter how many times over the years that Eddie saw you naked or in something he thought was sexy, he always behaved like it was the first time.

“Goddamn babe,” he called out breathlessly, arms coming down from the edge of the hot tub so he could lean forward, forearms on his knees, as he carefully watched your approach.

You took your time as you made your way over to the hot tub, your eyes taking him in as much as he was you. The heat of water made his skin flushed, which when paired with the intense gaze he was giving you made him look almost feral.

A cool breeze blew in off the ocean just as reached the hot tub. With only the bikini covering you, goosebumps slightly rose up on your skin and you felt your nipples hardening at the temperature change. The thin fabric covering your tits did nothing to hide this, and you saw Eddie’s gaze dip down to your chest.

As you stepped down into the water, you watched his eyes darken as he took you in again now that you were at close range.

“Deandra did good, I take it?” you asked, making your way down the rest of the steps until you were standing on the bottom.

Eddie’s head rapidly bobbed up and down.

“My soon to be ex-wife has excellent taste,” he said, his tongue running over his bottom lip as his face started to grow more flushed.

Right as you started to lower yourself into the water to take the seat across from Eddie, he lifted one arm up and extended his hand out to you. You took a couple steps forward, closing the distance to accept the gesture by placing your hand in his. With a gentle tug on your arm, he pulled you into his lap, his free hand resting on your waist to help steady you as you positioned yourself to straddle his thighs.

“Hi there,” you said with a coy smile, your hands resting on his shoulders. “Come here often?”

“Not exactly here, per say,” Eddie replied with a chuckle as his hands rested comfortably on your hips, his head tilting back up to look at you. “But I hope that changes soon.”

With a smile, you leaned down to kiss him passionately. His response was immediate with no hesitation, his lips latching onto yours to return your intensity with his own. As your tongues met just inside his lips, Eddie slid one hand up your back, traveling upwards until it finally came to a rest on the back of your neck. He held onto you tightly, his remaining hand pulling at your hip to slide you forward in his lap.

With your bodies now so close together, chest to chest, you gave your hips a gentle roll against him. Eddie softly groaned into your mouth, his hips slightly thrusting upwards to match your movement.

Then he broke away from you just enough so he could speak, his eyes gazing up into yours.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked you, voice low and soft enough it couldn’t be heard by anyone else but you. “It’s not too late to back out.”

You shook your head.

“It is,” you said, lightly running your nails down the back of his neck. “They’ve got photos of us kissing now at least.”

Eddie studied your face, as if looking for any sign of hesitation, then nodded before returning his lips to yours.

It was a lot easier to let go and forget about your audience than you would’ve thought. But as Eddie’s lips moved downwards towards your neck, and then started sucking on that one spot just below your ear, everything around the hot tub just faded away.

You moaned softly, head tilting back as your hips pushed forward into his impulsively. A soft grunt left Eddie, his ass bucking up slightly at the feeling. You hadn’t done it very hard, just enough for him to feel you rub against his hardening length. But it was enough to spur him on.

The hand on your hip slipped down slightly to rest on your ass. Squeezing it tightly, Eddie pulled your hips forward again as he thrust his own towards you. You moaned softly into his mouth, helping him out by rocking your hips down into his thrusts. He stopped pulling at you when he realized you were matching the movements, instead holding onto you firmly as bucked up into you harder. His motions were rough enough to make your body jar upwards on his lap. You both swallowed each other’s moans, the thin fabric of your respective swimsuits doing little to dull the sensations of you grinding against each other.

Your hands slid down his back, raking his skin with your nails as they went. It wasn’t a hard scratch, but not a light one either, making Eddie hiss softly, his hips thrusting hard against you at the feeling.

Eddie’s lips traveled lower on your neck, down to your collarbone. There he started kissing and nibbling his way all the way across your chest, taking particular care to bite at the hallow of your throat. The feeling of his teeth bearing down on the delicate tendons just under the skin made you gasp, almost yelp even. You could feel Eddie’s lips twist upwards in a grin against your chest.

As he continued to make his way across, the hand on your ass slid lower, caressing down over the curve of the cheek until it was under you. His arm slid under your thighs and lifted you a little. This now put your chest at Eddie’s eye level, and he immediately dove forward for your tits. Holding you there, his lips latched onto one through the fabric of your bikini top. As his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, his free hand slid around from your neck to roughly grasp your breast from underneath.

“Mmm,” you moaned softly, as your back arched forward towards him.

One of your hands went to the back of his neck, steadying yourself as you pushed yourself back down to resume grinding against him. A loud groan erupted from Eddie, his hips thrusting up as he bit down on your nipple, making you gasp. He slowly pulled away, still holding it in his teeth for a second before letting go.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, Princess,” he growled softly, but you could hear the playfulness in his voice.

“You don’t love me because I’m nice,” you said, smirking as you brushed your lips over his.

You felt him smile against your mouth and you softly ran the tip of your tongue over his bottom hip. Eddie shivered at the feeling.

“Good point,” he said softly, his hands moving to rest on your lower back. “But remember, sweetheart, I’m not particularly nice either.”

Eddie quickly brought one hand around to slide it between your bodies, pushing it down between your legs. He began rubbing his open hand back and forth over your mound, his palm gently pressing against your clit with each pass up. Your moaned softly, arching your chest forward, and Eddie slid the hand on your back further upwards to the rest between your shoulder blades. His fingers drifted apart with each pass, letting two fingers lay on either side of your slit to rub outer lips, while he pressed his middle finger down to rub between them.

With each pass of his finger, he stopped just shy of your clit, passing just close enough you could feel how close it, but not quite touching where you most wanted him to. Not until a soft whimper left your lips and your legs started to twitch did he finally oblige and give you want you wanted. He pulled his hand forward, drawing his middle finger up along your slit until he could slowly circle the tip around the sensitive nub.

The combination of the light pressure and the slick material of the bikini rubbing against your most tender areas soon had you quivering in his arms. Unconsciously, your hips started to move in small circles in tandem with the circles Eddie was making on around your clit. It added a new sensation, making his finger alternate between firm and featherlight pressure, teasing you one second then pleasuring you the next.

Your head tilted back again, eyes closed, and Eddie’s lips soon found the side of your neck. When your moans started to grow louder, he moved away from your clit to push his hand back between your legs. He wiggled his fingers past the edge of your bikini to push it aside and sink his middle finger all the way into you.

“Eddie, god,” you moaned, your nails digging into his back, as he slowly started to finger you. “Always feel so good.”

“Yeah?” he asked against your neck, and you nodded as his tongue traced over the purpling skin under his lips. “Love it when you call me your god.”

You moaned in response as he added his ring finger next to his middle and curled them both upwards, hitting just that right spot. Crying out loudly with your head thrown back, you held onto him tightly as your hips thrust forward against his hand. This pushed his fingers deeper and made you gasp.

When he started pushing the heel of his hand against your clit, grinding into it with every inward thrust of his fingers, it didn’t take long for you to come undone. Clenching around his fingers like a vice, you completely let go, screaming Eddie’s name along with incoherent praise.

Eddie continued to finger you through your orgasm, gradually slowing down as you came down from your high. When your moans softened into whimpers and you began squirming, he finally pulled his hand away, only to begin opening the front of his swim trunks.

As you shifted your hips back a bit to give him more room, some advice Deandra had given you came floating up in your memory.

“Remember, make it really good,” she had said. “And make it so damn dirty they’ve got no choice but to go straight to print, no matter how many favors they owe.”

In this brief moment of clarity, you realized that, yes, while this all had been very enjoyable so far, it was rather vanilla compared to what you were used to. It seemed like Eddie was holding back, either from his own nerves or his worries for how you were really doing with all this. He was going to need to get over his hesitation quickly if they really wanted to make headlines.

“Eddie? Baby?” you said softly, dragging the tips of your nails across his upper back. He grunted in response just as you felt his cock come free of his swim trunks. “I don’t think you fingering me and then me riding you with all the good stuff under water is going to cut it.”

Eddie paused for a second, then pulled back a bit to look at you, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“What do you have in mind, Princess?” he asked.

You inclined your head upwards towards the edge of the hot tub.

“Why don’t you hop up there, and I’ll show you,” you said, leaning in for a moment to flick your tongue over his lips.

You pulled yourself out of Eddie’s lap and he lifted himself out of the hot tub to sit right at the edge, his feet resting in the seat. As he did this, you briefly submerged yourself under water, getting yourself completely wet. Eddie watched as you resurfaced, leaning back on one hand, and lazily stroking his cock as you wiped the water out of your face.

It was quite the sight to open your eyes to and you couldn’t help but pause to watch for a few seconds. His grin got even bigger, watching your eyes move up and down in time with his hand and your lips open slightly.

Then you came forward to kneel between his legs on the seat he just vacated. One hand immediately went to his cock to bat his hand away, wrapping your fingers around his hard shaft in their stead. Kissing along his chest, you started working his cock with your hand. You kept a slow pace until your lips were at the base of his shaft, where you then ran your tongue down his full length.

Eddie’s legs twitched and he muttered a soft curse. You shifted your gaze up to see a soft look on his face despite how intently he was watching you. You paused, quirking a brow at him. He brought his other hand over to rest it on your shoulder, giving it a soft, reassuring squeeze before sliding over to the back of your neck. With that last check in complete and permission to continue given, you turned your attention fully to his cock.

After slowly circling your tongue around the tip several times, you took the head of his cock into your mouth. Eddie started to let out a deep groan at the feeling of the warmth and wetness enveloping him, but it changed to a cry of surprise and pleasure as you hollowed out your cheeks to apply a deep suction.

“Fuck!” Eddie cried, his hand letting go of your neck to grip a handful of your hair instead. “S-shit, babe. That’s it. That’s my girl. You know how I like it.”

Indeed, you did, and you needed no further encouragement. You started bobbing your mouth up and down in just the head of his cock, keeping up with the slow rhythm of your hand stroking his shaft. Another low moan left Eddie, and you felt his fingers flexing in your hair. He wasn’t pushing or pulling at you yet, merely holding onto you.

As you increased the speed of your hand, you lowered your mouth down on him a little more with each downstroke. Already you could taste his precum, the tip of his cock leaking on your tongue and coating the roof of your mouth.

Once his cock was halfway in your mouth, you moved your hand away from his shaft and took the rest down your throat in one fast motion.

Eddie gasped loudly, and when you looked up you could see him staring at you in awe, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

“H-Holy s-shit,” he groaned before pinching his eyes closed and tilting his head back as his entire body shuddered.

You set a slow and steady rhythm, sliding all but the tip of his cock out of your mouth before taking it all back in again. The sounds Eddie made every time he felt your throat around his cock made your core throb.

After taking him down your throat a couple more times, Eddie’s moans became whimpers, and his hips began to twitch upwards. When that happened, you slid his cock from your mouth, your hand returning to stroke his shaft.

“Wanna do something really dirty?” you asked, batting your eyes up at him before flicking your tongue over the tip of his cock.

Eddie shivered and gasped, his eyes heavy lidded and dilated as he watched you.

“Maybe,” he said, brushing some hair away that had fallen in your face. “What were you thinking abo-“

The sudden halt in his speech was caused by you leaning up towards him just enough that the head of his cock nestled between your tits. You then angled yourself so that the length of his shaft was laying between them.

“Oh f-fuck yes,” he finally said, arching his hips up a little to thrust his wet cock upwards between your tits.

With a smile, you brought your free hand up to the bottom of your bikini top. You pulled it away from your chest just enough that you could easily slip his cock underneath. The new sensation of the wet fabric against one side of his cock and your smooth, warm skin on the other made Eddie groan. It seemed like he didn’t know what to do with his hand suddenly as he watched you with wide eyes, so he moved it behind him to lean on as well.

Shifting your body a little bit more, you got into a better position so it would be a smooth glide. You moved his cock a little bit then tilted your head down, taking a second to gather all the saliva in your mouth to spit it down between your tits and his cock. A stream of curses left Eddie’s mouth as he watched you do it again a moment later, this time directly on to his cock.

“Fucking hell,” he panted, legs twitching as you pushed your tits closer together with your arms, pushing them closer around his cock. “Always so fucking filthy for me, baby, fuck.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d let him fuck your tits. After nearly twenty years together, fifteen of which as lovers, there was very little you two hadn’t done together in bed. But it was one of those things that didn’t happen often, so when it did, Eddie went mad.

And, after fifteen years as lovers, you knew exactly what buttons were left to push before Eddie went absolutely berserk.

“Like that, baby?” you asked, moving your body so he cock began to glide easily between your tits at a steady pace.

“Fuck, baby, I fucking love it,” he groaned deeply.

Eddie’s ass was starting to buck up off the tiled edge of the hot tub. His breathing was becoming erratic, his cheeks turning red as he tried to hold onto himself for as long as he could. Your skin was smeared with precum as it leaked down his shaft. When you looked down and saw this, you paused temporarily and opened your mouth, letting him thrust the head of his cock past your lips so you could gently suck on it, cleaning it off. Eddie gasped loudly at the feel of your mouth around him again and you felt his whole-body twitch.

Suddenly, he completely stopped moving and leaned forward, taking ahold of both of your shoulders in order to push you away, his cock slipping free of your bikini top. You didn’t have time to say anything before he had jumped back in the hot tub with you. He took ahold of you then spun you around, pushing you to the edge of the hot tub so you were bent over it.

While there wasn’t much sense left in Eddie, there was enough to make him be careful of how he angled your body. He made sure to position you in such a way that nothing of yours could be seen or photographed by outside parties. That was his one stipulation to agreeing to this. He didn’t care who saw what of his, but the Full Y/N Experience, as he put it, was for his eyes only.

Once he had the angle right, where a semi side profile of your bodies could be seen, along with a left clear view of your faces, Eddie pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and held them open. Using his free hand, he lined himself up with your entrance and then pushed the head of his cock into you.

You moaned loudly, your hands gripping the side of the hot tub as both of his came up to grip onto your ass cheeks. He lifted them slightly and spread them, watching as he slowly sheathed himself deep inside your aching cunt. The feeling of him bottoming out made your legs tremble, a long moan leaving your throat at the feeling of him being so deep in you.

Eddie gave a couple of slow rolls of his hips, allowing you to properly feel his full length dragging through you. Low, deep moans left your throat, the slow pace making you want more. Soon though, he began to pick up the pace until he was finally slamming himself into you fast and hard.

“Fuck, Eddie!” you screamed, squeezing your eyes closed.

All you could do was hold onto the edge of the hot tub for dear life as he pounded into you from behind. He slid his hands up from your ass to take hold of your waist. He started pulling you backwards into each thrust, the force making you both gasp and moan together. The head of his cock pushed even deep inside you, hitting all your most sensitive inner areas. It wasn’t long before you could feel the coil inside you close to snapping.

“G-gonna cum,” you managed to gasp out.

Your words made Eddie’s thrusting slightly stutter, but not for long. He slid one hand down from your waist back between your legs, his fingers seeking out your clit to circle around it.

“M’close too,” he groaned out as your inner walls twitched around him when he swept the pad of his finger directly over your clit. “Want you to cum around me.”

With three more thrusts, Eddie’s wish came true, and your cunt clamped down around him as you came. The orgasm washed over your body hard, making your legs shake and your knees start to buckle. You screamed, crying out curses and his name in an incoherent mess of words.

The hand on your shoulder left it to grab a handful of your hair, pulling your head back and causing your chest to arch outwards. This also caused your hips to lift, giving Eddie a better angle to fuck straight into you.

He fucked you through your orgasm and wasn’t too far behind you. His thrusting was already growing harder and erratic as you were coming down from your high. The steady grip of your inner walls coaxed him along, and after a few more of those hard, deep thrusts, Eddie began to shoot his cum deep inside you.

“F-fuck!” he cried as his lower body slightly spasmed, the hand on your waist gripping you hard. “That’s it, fuck! Such a good girl for me, Y/N, fuck!”

The stream of cursing and praise that left Eddie’s mouth next was almost unintelligible as yours as he kept fucking you through his orgasm. His hips gradually slowed until he finally came to a stop, leaving his cock still buried in you.

You both were panting, exhausted messes. It took several moments before Eddie could even move in order to pull out of you. You whimpered at the loss of contact when he finally did, the motion making your legs tremble again. After tucking himself into his trunks, he helped you stand up and fix your bottoms, before dropping into seat you just fucked on. He pulled you down into his lap across his thighs, sitting there contently with your arms wrapped around each other.

It took a while before either of you felt like moving, supremely happy to just sit there together. You spoke softly about trivial things, exchanging soft kisses and caresses until the timer on the hot tub went down to zero and it shut itself off. That was your cue to finally go inside. After drying yourselves, the two of you went inside to shower then get ready for bed, both exhausted. Just before you went to sleep, Eddie wondered aloud to you about how long it would take for the photos to get out.

That question was answered barely two days later. Shortly after the nationally aired morning shows began for the day, you and Eddie were woken up by a phone call from Joe, telling you both to get down to his office as soon as possible. The label wanted the band and you assembled for a conference call with the executives.

About an hour later, once you all were assembled around Joe’s desk, he dialed into the labels conference room as he was instructed.

The phone call as brief as possible.

It hadn’t taken long for the photos to be picked up by a major tabloid. While the story hadn’t hit the printers yet, legitimate news outlets caught wind of the story and had already validated its legitimacy. There had only been short blurbs about it so far during the entertainment news, but everyone knew it wasn’t going to take long for the photos to be everywhere.

They were informed that Corroded Coffin’s contract with the label was terminated effective immediately with the upcoming tour cancelled.

They cited a morality clause in one of the subsections of their contract stating any behavior considered immoral or reprehensible by the label from any member of the band would be grounds for label to terminate their agreement with the band as a whole. Since the statement announcing Eddie and Deandra’s pending divorce hadn’t gone public yet, it was a clear-cut case of adultery. There was absolutely no way for the label to spin it into anything else and that created a big problem for the executives.

While they had no interest in continuing their relationship with Corroded Coffin, they assured the band they would not be put their names on any blacklists so that they may find another label to take them on during this next phase of their careers. They predicted that Corroded Coffin would have no trouble finding someone to quickly sign them on.

After wishing everyone well, and reminding you all that your NDAs still wouldn’t expire for years to come, the executives ended the call.

You all listened to the dial tone coming through the speaker phone for a few seconds before Joe finally hit the button to hang up.

Then the guys cheered with joy.

A tremendous feeling of relief washed over everyone in that office. Even Joe, while he didn’t fully approve of you and Eddie’s methods, definitely appreciated the outcome . He was happy to finally have the label out of his hair, too.

While none of you knew whether or not to believe the label executives at first, they held true to their word and did not blacklist the band in the industry. It didn’t take long before other labels started reaching out to Joe, interested in signing them. However, most of the labels he met with were offering deals way too similar to the one the guys just got out of. This time, they wanted to be much more careful. Since they actually had the clout now to be choosier, Joe put potential labels through far more scrutiny on their behalf.

In the meantime, Joe made sure they continued to work and perform, but things were much different now than before. The bigger venues were hard to book without the backing of a label, and the dive bars they started out in were too big of a security risk thanks to their fame. All that really left was the festival circuit and special appearances. But none of you minded though. Every show was much more relaxed than their previous concerts with the label had been, and definitely not as frantic and stressful as touring. The slower pace allowed them to begin recovering from the burnout their old label had pushed them into. Soon they were enjoying performing again. Even the writer’s block Eddie and Gareth had been experiencing started to lift, allowing them to write music again.

It really didn’t take that long to get a new record deal. Not in comparison to how long it took them to get their first deal, at any rate. The wait was worth it though.

A smaller label eventually contacted Joe, interested in signing Corroded Coffin. At first, he was leery of their interest. The label was relatively new, having only been founded within the last five years. They had a handful of artists signed, but none of them particularly famous outside of niche audiences. However, the label desperately wanted to sign them. Corroded Coffin would be their biggest act signed to date and would certainly start to make a name for the label. The label then extended the most generous offer the guys had received so far, allowing them total control over their careers and lives. It was an offer they couldn’t refuse.

Once they were signed, they immediately went into the studio to start recording the new material they all had been working on. Since they had gotten inspired in recent months, there ended up being way more music than they needed for an album. Rather than forcing them to pair it down, the label encouraged them to spread their creative wings and try something new.

This led to the release of a double disc album, “Destruction & Resurrection.” Most of the songs were veiled references to the hell their previous label put them through (Destruction) and taking back control of their lives and careers in the aftermath (Resurrection). It did very well among old fans and new. It rose through the charts quickly after release and soon they went on a very successful tour to promote it.

The difference between the old tours and this new one was obvious from the start. It was much more laid back, and not as hectic with so many guidelines the old label had them follow. They were finally able to enjoy the spotlight, enjoy being on stage together and enjoy all the benefits years of demanding work had yielded without someone else pulling the strings.

Not only that, you and Eddie weren’t having to sneak around in the shadows anymore. Since your relationship had remained public ever since the photos of you two in the hot tub made the news, you never left his side now except for when he was on stage.

But living life in the public eye wasn’t without its drawbacks, especially after a scandal of that magnitude.

The photos of you and Eddie had broken during the fast rise in popularity of internet being used as a way to connect with other people sharing similar interests. Among the discussions you saw about the band, the scandal was wildly talked about. Eddie’s name was once again tarnished for something he didn’t do, but this time you were taking the brunt of the blame. Most people had less than favorable opinions about you. People called you a home wrecker at best and a trailer trash slut at worse. You tried to not let it bother you, tried to not let it get under your skin, but it did at times. With the NDAs still in effect, you were forced to grin and bear it.

Once the latest tour wrapped up, with the labels blessing, Corroded Coffin took an extended break. They weren’t broken up by any means, but like all bands that stay together long term, they had all reached the point where they wanted to live their own separate lives. They wanted to stretch their wings out, rediscover themselves and learn what makes them tick. After so many years of working and traveling together, it was time.

Nick more or less retired from the public eye during this time. He and his wife had their first of four children together shortly after the tour concluded, and he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could.

Outside of having families themselves, Gareth and Jeff started a new project in order to experiment with the nu metal sound that had really become popular. It was fairly successful, featuring both Eddie and Nick on several of the songs.

Eddie and you led a pretty quiet life. Now that you weren’t forced to be shut ins in order to be together, you discovered now you preferred being at home together rather than going out. Outside of the occasional vacation with friends and family, you two spent most of your time at home. Though, one of those vacations did land you two on the front page of the tabloids again when you two were spotted vacationing in the Maldives with Deandra and her fiancée.

When the early 2000’s rolled around, the guys of Corroded Coffin were starting to feel a bit restless. The itch to write and perform together again was creeping in, and they started to talk about if it was time to start working a new album.

Fate decided to step in and give them the nudge they needed.

The producers of a popular horror movie series wanted to use a couple of Corroded Coffin’s songs in the latest movie. They were also asked if they would also write and record a brand-new song for the soundtrack. Since Eddie, you and Jeff were fans of the series, the band happily agreed.

While the movie itself ended up being one of the weaker installments of the series, it still did well enough at the box office to assure another installment. The soundtrack was highly praised and relaunched the name Corroded Coffin to a whole new generation of fans. They went back into the studio to record again.

The success of their following album led to them being approached by VH1 executives with an offer. They wanted to do an episode of Behind the Music on Corroded Coffin detailing their rise to fame, the scandal that resulted in their expulsion from their first label, their reinvention under the new label and the lives they lead now. The offer was thrilling, and everyone readily agreed. There was very little haggling over the script and the questions, which seemed a little odd at first to the producers. Usually there is always something the guests didn’t want to talk about, but everyone seemed perfectly willing to bare it all.

What the producers of VH1 didn’t realize was, all of the NDAs the group signed with the first label had expired the prior year. You and Eddie were done lying and gave everyone your blessing to tell the real story.

It didn’t take long for before VH1 realized what a goldmine they had. As the story unfolded, the entire structure of the episode changed. Instead of presenting them as former hard partying rockers that got knocked down several pegs by the front man’s scandalous love affair, they were presented as a band held prisoner by a former label that controlled everything from to who they dated and what they wore. Everyone interviewed for the episode confirmed every bit of the story, from Joe’s widow Valerie and Diandra herself, to Eddie’s longtime friends Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson.

Corroded Coffin’s episode of Behind the Music shocked the music world. While everyone was moved by what all the guys went through, hearing about what happened to you and Eddie broke hearts.

As it turns out, the men in suits at that first label had been wrong.

Everyone on the internet agreed. Eddie Munson being with his high school sweetheart for over twenty years, not to mention the lengths that you two went to finally be together, was very fucking metal.