#a-1 pictures still drew him better

[ace-aro-taku]

I will literally stop being ace if you were real, so hurry up-

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

was having trans marty thoughts again and i came to a realization about this scene

[starsinthesky5]

you are in love V part 1 || joe burrow x reader

description: this upcoming week will be monumental for you and joe. both of you have a chance to get to the top of the mountain in your respective careers, and for the first time, you are by each other's side through it all, and the whole world is watching

a/n: im baaaaaackkkkk! well, did I ever really go anywhere LMAO? anyway, sorry this one took so long ;) hope you enjoy it. this is part 1 of 2. the corresponding social media fic will hopefully be up this week!

warnings: SMUT mdni, fluff, hint of angst here and there

word count: 29.9 k

YAIL masterlist  ||  YAIL lore → (this might clarify some things in terms of albums)

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @softburrow @yelenasbraid @burrowbarbie @lovelyburrow @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @lilfreakjez @fourburrow @definitelynotdomanique 

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I'm so in love that I might stop breathing, Drew a map on your bedroom ceiling, No, I didn't see the news, 'Cause we were somewhere else

Scrolling through your latest track recordings always felt like the most rewarding part of your exhausting day in the studio—a chance to sit back and revel in the magic that had poured out of you. But tonight? Tonight, it felt different. It felt better. You know why? Because this one was a glitter gel pen song. Every take, every note, every perfectly stacked synth—it all fit together like a dream. It was carefree, light, the kind of song that twirled you around the room in a haze of champagne bubbles and whispered secrets. The type of song that felt like the drunk girl in the bathroom at a party, grabbing your hands and telling you that you looked like an angel. You leaned back, tapping your fingers against your wooden desk as the track played through the speakers, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Damn,” you muttered to yourself, satisfaction settling deep in your chest. “That one’s it. Two for two on those blends, Jack would be proud,”.

The way the melodies melted together, the shimmering production weaving through every lyric—it was magic. The kind of song that didn’t just sit in the background, but demanded to be felt. It had all the makings of a smash hit.

That is, if it ever saw the light of day.

Your album had already been finalized for a few months now and there were no intentions to add to it, but the thing was, you just couldn’t stop writing. It’s like every little thing was inspiring you; from his laughter, to his knee silently rubbing against yours under the table—teasing, comforting, constant—to the way he looked at you before you fell asleep in his arms. Hell, even the cheap wine you pretended was champagne which he had picked up in a haste before coming back home to celebrate you inking the deal with Vogue to be on their cover for the May edition. 

Words. Lyrics. Poems. 

That was all that filled your mind when you were with him—which, at this point, was quite often. 

And there’s only one person to blame for that.

Joe.

The song you had been working on tonight—Paris—was loosely inspired by your little adventure across France last month. From the dazzling waters of Cannes to the stylish Parisian streets, it was a trip filled with firsts & so many moments that had you thinking of song lyrics like it was second nature (which it was). Every stolen glance, every drunken whisper while stumbling down the dimly lit hallways of your hotel, every moment that felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you—it all poured into the song effortlessly.

We were somewhere else

You could still picture it. The way his fingers laced with yours as you wandered through the cobblestone streets, the city lights reflecting in his oceanic eyes making him look ethereal. The quiet laughter over dinner in a tucked-away bistro, the kind of place that felt like a secret. The warmth of his hands on your waist as he pulled you close on the balcony, the Eiffel Tower glowing in the distance. You really were somewhere else with him, it felt like you two were separated from the world, so immersed in your bubble to the point where you didn’t know what was going on around you. 

Privacy sign on the door, and on my page, and on the whole world. Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours

Love wasn’t something you needed to prove to anyone. You had learned that the hard way.

During this trip, after months of speculation, silence, and blurred paparazzi photos, the world finally knew—you and Joe. 

The pop star and the athlete. The girl with the guitar and the boy with the game ball. The lyricist and her muse. The songbird and her falcon. 

The headlines were persistent, dissecting every past lyric, every old interview, every possible connection they could make between the lovers. But they couldn’t pinpoint what it was, how someone like you had ended up with someone like him. Two different worlds. Two different crowds. Yet somehow, your hearts found each other and something extraordinary was etched in the stars as a result. 

It was a big step, terrifying in a way that only fame could make it. Because for the first time, you were willingly letting in the same people who had spent the last year ripping you apart piece by piece.

But you weren’t scared. Not this time.

For the first time in your life, you didn’t give a damn.

Because romance isn’t dead—not if you keep it yours. You had spent so long believing love needed an audience, that it had to be constantly flaunted and performed to be real. But now, you knew better. Love was in the quiet moments. In the space between heartbeats. In the way Joe looked at you when no one else was watching. You kept that privacy sign up—on the door, on your page, on your entire world—because peace was priceless, something valuable and unattainable for the ill-fated that once you found it, you’d do anything to protect it. The outside world might try to crack open the doors, to pry into your life, but you didn’t owe anyone that access. Some things were too sacred to be shared, and that was perfectly okay. You were only going to let them see things on your own terms, without any need to prove something to someone. You were unbelievably happy with your life with Joe, and you wanted people to know—but never once should it have to come off as forced. And that’s what was so different about your relationship. 

Nothing about it felt forced.

Which is why Paris was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. It was so easy, it all felt so natural—like the two of you had stepped into a world where time slowed down just for you.

The city had always been romanticized in your mind, but being there with Joe had turned every moment into something straight out of a movie. Fashion Week was his grand debut into that world—his first time on the runway, and you’d never been prouder. He and Justin had taken the stage like they belonged there, breaking barriers with each confident step. You still remembered standing off to the side, watching as Joe walked with that signature focus of his, the same intensity he carried on the field. Except this time, instead of pads and cleats, he was draped in high fashion, and god, did he wear it well. 

The fittings had been an adventure in themselves. You had spent hours in designer showrooms, watching him try on pieces that ranged from effortlessly cool—Joe Cool—to downright ridiculous. At one point, he came out in a look so wild you couldn’t help but fall over laughing, clutching your stomach as he just stood there, unamused. “Babe,” he deadpanned, turning to the mirror. “I look like a rejected boy band member from 2003,” and you only laughed harder.  

When you weren’t wrapped up in the whirlwind of Fashion Week, you had slipped away to explore the city together. Mornings were spent wandering through art museums, fingers laced together as you admired centuries-old paintings. Joe had a way of tilting his head when he looked at something he didn’t quite understand, brow furrowed in concentration. “So…this is just a bunch of dots?” he had murmured as you stood in front of a Seurat painting, and you had to bite back a smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s called pointillism, babe,”.  

Afternoons were for indulging in every pastry Paris had to offer, for letting him feed you bites of pain au chocolat, for stolen kisses between sips of espresso at a quiet café. And the nights…well, the nights belonged to just the two of you. Quality time in the hotel room, tangled limbs beneath silk sheets, whispered words and soft laughter echoing against the walls after he had just finished drilling you into the soft mattress.  

But outside your little Parisian bubble, the cameras had followed, the questions had lingered, the online buzz had been relentless. The world now knew about you and Joe, and they had plenty to say about it. Some were supportive, some skeptical, some downright nasty. But none of it mattered when you were with him.  

And now, here you were, back in your studio, lost in thought, lost in Paris, lost in him.  

Paris wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. One that lingered, even now, as you sat in the dim glow of the studio, layering harmonies over a melody that already felt like nostalgia. This song wasn’t just about your time in the city of love. It was about him. The feeling he made you feel.

And you were dancing to the beat of that feeling, letting it guide you wherever it wanted, just as you let him guide you through the unpredictability of love.

After going through the recordings, you decided to head back to the drawing board. The soft hum of unfinished melodies filled the room, blending with the distant city noise outside. You absentmindedly tapped your blue glitter pen against the pages of your notebook, eyes scanning over the lyrics you had scribbled down earlier. The scent of coffee and warm studio air surrounded you, holding you in this moment—just you, your thoughts, and the music waiting to be shaped into something real.

Wrapped in your Bengals blanket, you sighed, sinking deeper into the plush velvet couch. A new verse was forming in your mind, the words almost there. You took the pen from your lips, pressing it to the page, ready to chase the feeling. But then, your phone buzzed beside you, pulling you from your thoughts.

The screen lit up, casting a soft glow in the dark studio, and a smile rose at the corners of your lips. Your lock screen—a snapshot of a moment that felt like home.

Well, because it was. 

Last November. A slow morning wrapped in golden light. The photo had been taken in bed, the white sheets tangled around your bodies, the warmth of sleep still lingering in your limbs. Joe had snapped it—his arm extended, his messy morning hair barely in frame, but the focus was on you, tucked into his chest, your cheek pressed against his bare skin, eyes still heavy with sleep, while he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

You didn’t even know he’d taken the photo until later that afternoon when he changed your lock screen himself, grinning like a kid who just got away with something. “You looked cute,” he shrugged, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And now, every time your phone lit up, it was there—a reminder of warmth, of love, of the kind peace you never thought was possible to possess. 

You then read the message below, seeing it was from your assistant.

Jen: new interview was released from paris! looks like lover boy had a few things to say about his lover girl ;)

“What…,” you whispered, your breath catching in your throat as another message popped up, this time with the link to the interview clip. You were aware that Joe had his own media run during your time in Paris, as the highlight of the trip was Joe’s Vogue World debut with Justin. It was something unique, something that broke the glass ceiling as these two American football stars took on the world of fashion and Anna Wintour like a hurricane. They were the center of attention during Fashion Week, so it was a given that there’d be an inquisitive microphone shoved in his face and a camera following his every move. Every step they took, every outfit they wore was analyzed and dissected by the press, but Joe seemed unfazed despite his initial nerves before the trip. 

Your eyebrows knitted together out of curiosity, the only thought you had was, “He didn’t tell me they asked him about me,” and then you clicked on the link without hesitation, and there he was. You recognized the surroundings—seeing the racks of clothing, glam vanities, and cameras—and realized this must’ve been a BTS interview during his fitting that morning before he walked the runway. 

You tapped play, and within seconds, his familiar, eye-crinkling laughter filled the studio, intoxicating and so freaking adorable, making your heart flutter all over again. 

“What do I think of Y/N?” he repeats with a soft laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t quite put it all into words. There’s a blush creeping onto his cheeks, undeniable, even under the bright studio lights. “I mean, she’s great…honestly, she’s more than great. She’s magic. The literal best thing that has ever happened to me. She’s everything you could ever want in a girlfriend. She’s everything to me. A constant source of support, someone who understands the pressure I’m under because she’s in the same position as me but in her own career, someone who can make me smile and laugh harder than I ever have before,”.

He pauses for a second, running a hand over his jaw, a small smile playing on his lips. “Having her by my side over the past year has been nothing short of incredible. It’s been a blessing, a learning experience, a constant source of happiness in my life. Aside from being the most talented person I know—like, truly, watching her work, seeing her create, it’s inspiring—she’s also the most kind-hearted, down-to-earth person I’ve ever met. The way she carries herself, the way she navigates everything that comes with her career, it’s admirable. it’s one of the reasons I fell for her in the first place. I’ve learned a lot from her about how to manage my life in the NFL, privacy is a big thing for me and it’s rare…but she knows how to maintain it better than anyone,”.

His expression softens, voice dipping into something more intimate, like he’s forgetting for a moment that the cameras are rolling. “The world sees her as this superstar, this powerhouse who sells out stadiums and breaks records, but I see the girl who hums under her breath when she thinks no one’s listening. The one who stays up late, perfecting lyrics because she wants to make sure every word matters. The one who gives everything to the people she loves, no matter how exhausted she is. And somehow, I am lucky enough to get to be the person she comes home to,”.

The interviewer smiles, clearly intrigued by the connection between Joe and you, and then asks, “It’s clear you’re incredibly proud of her, but with both of you being in the public eye, do you ever feel the pressure of all the attention, especially when it comes to your newly public relationship?”.

Joe’s eyes flicker with thought as he ponders the question. His posture shifts slightly, and his expression softens as if the weight of it all settles in. He lets out a small sigh before responding. “I mean, yeah, there’s definitely pressure. We’re both in the spotlight, and people always want to know about us—about what we’re doing, what we’re feeling. It’s hard to escape that, sometimes. But, at the end of the day, it’s not about the noise around us. It’s about what we have. And we’re not afraid to show that,”. He lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “You know? Like…that’s my girl, that’s my lady. I’m not afraid to show that and own that. I’m proud of her, of us. I think when you have something that’s as real and rare as what we have, you should never take it for granted. You should protect it, yeah, but you should also be proud of it. Be happy. Show people how happy you are, but not so much that it feels forced and like you’re doing fan service. Do it for yourselves,”.

His grin turns a little playful, but the gravity never leaves his eyes. “She deserves that. She deserves everything good in this world, and I’ll spend forever making sure she knows that,”.

And then, the video ends, and the studio is once again filled with silence. But if you listen closely, you can hear the soft splosh of the teardrop hitting your phone screen.  

You blinked, startled by your own reaction, swiping at the tear with the sleeve of Joe’s sweatshirt—the same one you’d stolen from him last night and refused to give back. A watery laugh bubbled from your throat as you stared down at your phone, the weight of his words still settling in your chest.  

He called you magic.  

He called you the best thing that ever happened to him.  

He called you his girl. No. His lady. 

You sucked in a shaky breath, pressing your lips together to keep from completely sobbing. You weren’t new to grand gestures or poetic declarations—hell, you wrote about love for a living—but this? This was different. This was Joe. And for the first time in your life, you were being loved out loud, without hesitation, without restraint.  

No vague answers. No dancing around the truth. Just him, speaking about you the way you’d only ever dreamed someone would.  

You replayed the video, just to hear the way his voice softened when he talked about you, the way his smile lingered long after he finished speaking. And maybe you played it a third time. A fourth. Okay…five times, but who was counting?  

“God, I love you,” you murmured to the screen, even though he couldn’t hear you.  

But he would soon.  

An hour later 

You wrapped up your work shortly after watching his interview, that giddy feeling in your stomach making you dizzier by the second. You planned on staying for at least another hour,  but the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him until his lips were swollen and breathless overpowered every other thought in your mind.

The entire drive home, he was all you could think about.

The way he talked about you, with so much admiration and certainty…that he was your’s and you were his, like loving you wasn’t just something he did—it was something he was made for. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he rubbed the back of his neck when answering personal questions, that adorable little hesitation before he said something sweet, as if he still got shy about admitting just how much he adored you. Not because he didn’t want to accept it, but because he was so obsessed with you, it was so hard for him to stop talking once he started. 

It had been nine months since your world had been turned upside down by the man who taught you the true meaning of love, yet every single day felt like the first. The excitement, the awe, the gratitude that you got to be his and he got to be yours—it never dulled.

And as you pulled into the driveway, barely remembering how you even got home in one piece, one thing was certain: you were completely and utterly wrecked for him.

Once you made your way inside, you slipped off your cream-colored Ugg slippers and padded toward the kitchen island, dropping your bag onto the cool marble countertop. Your eyes flickered to the stove, where two pots and a pan—ones that definitely hadn’t been there when you left—rested on the burners. The faint scent of garlic, butter, and something rich and savory still lingered in the air.

“He must’ve cooked dinner for us,” you murmured to yourself, a smile tugging at your lips.

Of course, he did.

He knew you’d be coming home late, probably exhausted from hours of staring at a screen, adjusting vocal layers, and maneuvering the microphone until everything sounded just right. He knew you’d be too tired to even think about eating, let alone cooking something for yourself.

You felt warmth bloom in your chest as you ran a finger along the cool surface of the pot, already picturing him standing right here, sleeves rolled up, brows furrowed in concentration as he carefully followed a recipe. Because while Joe wasn’t exactly the most confident chef, he tried for you. He always tried for you.

Even if he was working with the irrational fear that he’d give you food poisoning or burn the kitchen down.

Your eyes scanned the living room, and to your surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Normally, around this time he’d be sprawled out against the couch with a blanket, reading or watching some dumb movie to pass time before you came home. 

Because that’s when the real fun started. 

He couldn’t wait to wrap you up in the plush blanket with him, put on one of your favorite shows, and listen as you told him about your day—his favorite part being when your fingers found his hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands while he soaked up every word.

But tonight was different. He wasn’t following his little routine.

You wandered toward the stairs, assuming he was in your bedroom or office, slowly climbing each one as you felt the dull ache in your thighs return, a pleasant reminder of what transpired in the backseat of his Porsche last night on the way to visit his parents’ for dinner. One look at you in that denim mini-skirt and gray polo quarter zip sweater, and he was gone. 

Flashback to last night

He exhaled sharply through his nose, “Watch it,” he mumbled, watching as your hand trailed up his thigh. 

You grinned, loving the way you got under his skin, how easily you could make him spiral. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said innocently, but the way your fingers crept higher on his thigh told another story. You’d been teasing him all night, ever since you caught him watching you a little too closely, his gaze lingering on your ass when you leaned into the mirror to fix your hair. That hungry, distracted look in his eyes told you exactly where his mind had wandered—and your choice of skirt wasn’t helping.

He was trying, really trying, to be good tonight. To focus. To not think about how easy it would be to slip that tiny thing up and bend you over the nearest surface.

But you weren’t making it easy for him. Not one bit.

Joe let out a quiet curse, his free hand darting out to grab your wrist, stopping your movements. “You really wanna play this game right now?” he asked, voice laced with something dangerous.

You just shrugged, leaning closer. “Depends,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “What happens if I win?”.

Lucky for both of you, the highway was long behind, and now you were on the quieter, more familiar roads of his hometown. When he spotted a deserted shopping complex up ahead, the parking lot empty and a thick cluster of shrubs tucked away behind it, he didn’t hesitate. Without a second thought, he swerved the car into the lot, the tires skimming over the road with a satisfying screech. He threw the car into park and immediately turned to you, his eyes darker than the night around you—stormy, almost predatory.

“Get in the back,”. 

A thrill shot through you at his tone, and you didn’t waste a second before climbing between the seats, settling against the cool leather as he followed closely behind.

You two had danced this tango quite a few times in the past, so you knew exactly how this was going to go. Flashes of the two of you, sprawled out in the backseat after picking him up from practice, his sweaty tank still clinging to his body, your legs spread over his lap as he groaned into your mouth, filled your mind. The thrill of being caught only added to the fire between you, his hands rough and impatient as they gripped your thighs, pulling you closer, pressing your back against the cool leather.

You knew exactly where this was going, just like all the other times—the way his lips would drag down your neck, the way his breath would hitch when you reached for him, the way his self-control would snap the second you rolled your hips just right.

His grip on your hips was ironclad as you straddled his lap, your denim skirt bunched up around your waist, the thin barrier of your panties already pushed aside. His head rested against the headrest, his lips parted, breath ragged as he watched you roll your hips against him, grinding your soaked core along the length of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers digging into your skin, barely holding himself together. “You’re such a tease, aren’t you?”.

You smirked, leaning in to brush your lips over his, teasing, taunting. “Maybe,”.

He sighed, his hands gripping your ass, pulling you even closer, making you feel just how hard he was for you. The teasing was short-lived, though—you both wanted it too badly. You lifted up just enough to line him up, his tip rubbing against your entrance, and then you sank down, inch by inch, until he was seated to the hilt.

A short gasp left your lips, your hands bracing against his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch, the fullness of him buried deep inside you. Joe cursed under his breath, his hands flexing against your waist as he fought the urge to thrust up into you. “Shit, baby,” he rasped, his head tilting back against the seat, eyes fluttering shut for a second before they snapped back open. “You feel so fucking good,”.

You rolled your hips slowly, relishing the way his jaw clenched, his muscles tensing beneath you. Taking full control, you lifted up slowly before slamming back down, drawing a strangled moan from his lips. “Jesus fuck,” he gritted out, his fingers bruising against your skin, his need for control slipping with each bounce of your hips.

You set the pace, riding him hard and deep, your movements messy and so calculated as if it was muscle memory.“Mm, fuck,” you whimpered as the windows fogged up, the car filled with the sound of your moans, his deep grunts, and the filthy slap of skin on skin. His hands roamed under your sweater, pushing it up to expose your chest, his warm palms immediately cupping your breasts through your black lacy bralette, thumbs flicking over your hard nipples. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he murmured, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking and biting as his hands greedily explored your body. “So perfect,”

You moaned in response, your movements becoming more frantic, chasing that high that was rapidly approaching. He felt it too, his hips snapping up to meet your thrusts, taking control in that way only he could.

“God, Joe—,” you gasped, hands flying to his hair, tugging as your body trembled.

“I got you, baby,” he groaned, his pace becoming erratic, his thrusts rough and deep. “Gonna cum for me?”.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure overwhelmed you and the coil in your belly snapped, your walls clenching around him, dragging him right to the edge with you. His grip on your waist tightened, and in one swift motion, he lifted you just enough to slip out. “Gonna…fuck—,” he cut himself off with a deep grunt, his fingers digging into your sweaty skin as he pulled you flush against him, his faint—but there—abs flexing as he spilled onto your stomach, painting your skin in hot, sticky ropes of his release.

And god, you lost it.

Your fingers swiped through the mess on your stomach, bringing it up to your lips, licking the taste of him off your skin, moaning around your fingers as you locked eyes with him. “Holy fuck,” Joe choked out, his blown-out pupils darting between your mouth and your stomach, his jaw clenched so tight you thought he might break a tooth.

He grabbed your wrist, dragging your fingers back to your lips, his breath heavy as he whispered, “Do that again,”.

End of flashback 

“Damn,” you muttered under your breath, a rush of heat rising in your body just at the mere thought of last night. You’d so kill for a repeat, but you were about two seconds away from passing out and sleepy, tired sex wouldn’t be enjoyable for either of you. 

Once you reached the bedroom door, barely making it because your legs felt like they were about to collapse, the faint melody of an extremely familiar song wafting through the frame had you tilting your head in curiosity. The synth, the voice…the bass…it was so....

You slowly nudged the door open, and—oh.

Joe was sitting on the floor, shirtless, clad in just a pair of black sweats, glasses perched on his nose as he focused intently on the pile of Legos in front of him. Your breath hitched.

Oh my god.

The glasses.

He never wore them unless he absolutely had to, always opting for contacts since they were convenient, but he must’ve needed to give his eyes a break. And the fact that he was sitting there, all casual and domestic, building one of the many Lego sets you both had drunkenly ordered on the boat in Cannes?

You were instantly, irreversibly feral. 

“God, dammit. He always does this,” you sighed and thought to yourself, the heat pooling in your lower belly. 

But you kept it down. Barely.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted with an easy smile, still focused on clicking a piece into place on the Milky Way set he’d been working on. He looked so boyfriend right now. Too boyfriend. You didn’t even think—you just met him on the floor, crawled into his lap, clinging to him, burying your face in his neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His hands instinctively landed on your hips, completely forgetting the Lego’s in front of him as he steadied you. “You okay?” his voice was softer now, laced with quiet concern.

You nodded, exhaling against his skin. “Yeah. More than okay,” you whispered. “I just love you,”.

You felt him relax under you, his arms wrapping fully around your waist, pressing you closer. “I love you too,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes searching his face, and his expression was nothing but warmth. And god, he just looked so soft and babyish in those black glasses. He never wore these out in public, which is why you felt so special because he only lets you see him like this. This was the real Joe. Your Joe. 

“I saw the interview,” you admitted, using your thumb to brush lightly against his cheek.

He hummed, a knowing look flickering in his eyes since he knew exactly what you were referring to since his own assistant had also alerted him. His thumb traced soft circles against your hip as he stayed silent. He didn’t need to say anything. He just held you, knowing how much moments like these meant to you. 

Quiet love. 

“You out-do yourself every time,” you muttered in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of coconut & hibiscus—your bodywash which he surely had stolen again. “Just when I think you can’t possibly be more perfect and sweet to me, you take it to the next level without breaking a sweat. And it’s so natural for you to just talk about me, like me. I’m such a mess but you see past all of it and somehow find all the redeeming qualities in me and I…,”.

As you trailed off, his hand slipped under the hem of your sweatshirt, pressing against the cool skin of your bare back. His fingers pushed into your plush-like skin, a subtle way of showing you that he was here, he heard you, and he felt you. “You deserve it,” he whispered in your ear, his other hand pulling you further into his lap. 

“You deserve all of it, Y/N. I mean it when I say you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I mean it when I say you’re magic, because the way you lit up my entire world by just existing in it? That’s some houdini shit right there. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. And I’m gonna make sure everyone with an ear hears about it. You spent way too long clawing and fighting for someone to see you the way you deserved to be seen,” he said. “But baby, you don’t have to fight anymore. I see you. And I’ll never stop making sure the whole damn world does, too. If you’re a mess, you’re the mess I want,”.

Your throat tightened, and before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, capturing his lips in an all-consuming kiss. You poured everything into it—every ounce of gratitude, every whisper of love, every unspoken promise that you’d never take a single moment with him for granted. Joe sighed into the kiss, his grip on you tightening as he melted into you, like he was just as desperate to hold on to this feeling as you were.

When you finally pulled back, your breath came in soft, uneven pants, your forehead still pressed against his. “You’re so good to me. You are literally magic, forget me,” you whispered, a breathless little laugh escaping you.

He grinned, his fingers brushing against your jaw, his thumb tracing that faint love-bite he left last night. “I love you,” he cooed, tilting his head, his nose nudging yours. “I’m gonna love you ‘til the end of time. That’s all. No magic, spells, witchcraft…even voodoo. Just love. My love,”.

You pushed your face back into his neck, his hands returning to their spot on your waist as you let out a contented sigh, relishing in the serenity that he brought to your life so easily. By just holding you close, letting you listen to the lulling thrum of his heartbeat. “Thanks for cooking tonight, by the way. You were a busy bee, weren’t you? Cooked and worked on the Legos,”.

He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, “You’ve had a jam-packed week…long studio sessions, rehearsals for your performance on Sunday, finalizing everything for the weekend. I, one, wanted to take some of the load off you, spoil you a little, and make one of your favorites—,”.

Your ears instantly perked up. “Chicken Parm?” you interrupted, eyes wide with excitement.

He chuckled, shaking his head at how easy you were to please. “Yes, I made you Chicken Parm,” he confirmed, barely getting the words out before you started peppering grateful kisses along his neck, murmuring little hums of appreciation against his skin.

“And two,” he continued, voice slightly strained from the distraction, “I needed to keep myself busy because I missed you,”.

A slow, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “Missed me?” you teased, tilting your head playfully. “Damn, Joey, are you that attached to me?” your tone was light, teasing, but the truth of it made your stomach flip. The fact that he could barely go an hour without hearing your voice, three hours without seeing you—it was adorable. It was everything.

His grip on you tightened as he exhaled through his nose, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Do I really need to state the obvious?” he murmured, before slowly pushing himself off the floor, lifting you effortlessly with him. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as warmth bloomed in your chest.

He led you both over to your massive California king bed, the plush duvet, which usually would be neatly folded, was now slightly messed up, evidence that he had been lounging here before getting distracted by his Lego project. He sat down on the edge, keeping you firmly in his lap, his hands roaming up and down your back in slow, comforting strokes. “In case you forgot,” he murmured, his lips attaching to your neck while he spoke. “I’m extremely obsessed with you,”.

Your hand found its way into his bed-head hair—soft, messy, with a lingering scent of rose—as you dragged your nails across his scalp. “Yeah? Is that why you were listening to my music before I walked in?” you teased, a confident smirk rising on your face as you gently pulled him away from your neck to meet his eyes. 

You knew it was familiar—the production, the vocals—because it came from you. 

Would’ve Could’ve Should’ve. 

The magic you had created that dreadful night in New York, when the only way you knew to get your feelings out was through music. When the only thing you could do was either cry until your eyes shrunk, or sing until your voice was gone. When you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your phone, because every single headline popping up reminded you of the betrayal, the heartbreak, the way the world seemed to turn against you overnight. Every notification felt like a fresh wound, every cruel word from strangers a dagger to your already shattered heart.

So, you did the only thing you knew how to do—you poured it into your music. You sat in that dark studio, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the piano keys, your voice raw and aching as you sang the truth you could never bring yourself to say out loud.

Before you could get lost in the past, Joe squeezed your waist, transporting you back in the present, away from the place you so narrowly escaped. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. “It’s different now. You’re different now. I’m here now,”.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you inhaled a slow, steady breath, calming yourself before the nerves could creep in and drag you under. You had fought too hard to climb out of that darkness, clawed your way back piece by piece. And he—he had fought just as hard to hold you steady, to be your anchor when the waves threatened to pull you under.  

No.  

You couldn’t let yourself spiral. Not now. Not when you had come so far.

“I’m better than that. I’m better now,” you reminded before taking another breath. Once you opened your eyes to meet his, you sighed, “I know,”. His eyes were soft, yet behind them were the faint remnants of the pain you’d been carrying for nearly a year. The pain he took upon himself because he couldn’t bear to watch your heartache alone. He had carried it with you, every step of the way, shouldering the weight even when you tried to tell him it wasn’t his burden to bear. But that was just who he was; loving you meant feeling everything with you, for you.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch so light, so reverent, like he was trying to soothe away the ache that still lingered beneath the surface. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured. “I get it,”. 

Joe hesitated, caught in the push and pull of his own thoughts. His mind pushed him to press further, to dig into the remnants of pain left behind by the smallest man who ever lived—to make sure not even a trace remained. But his heart? His heart told him, No. She’s happy…truly happy. You know that, and she knows that.

And when it came to you, Joe never listened to his mind. He always followed his heart, let it lead him like a compass pointing true north. Because if he did listen to logic, to the voice in his head that warned him to guard himself…well. Who knows whose hand he’d be holding right now?

Instead, he chose you because his heart did. Every time, in every lifetime.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm against your cool lips. “We’re both going for the gold, you know,” he smiled, his voice a mix of pride and promise. “Nobody does it like us. Literal IT couple. And it’s not even close. They wish they were us…this successful and hot,”.

This was his attempt at making you smile again, to shift the focus from your wounds to your wins. Because that’s what mattered now; not the past, not the pain, but the triumph waiting just on the horizon. This week was going to be intense, to say the least. Sunday, the Grammys, where your last album was nominated in every major category—including Album of the Year. Wednesday, the NFL Honors, where Joe was up for MVP. A whirlwind of milestones, each one a testament to the blood, sweat, and relentless dedication you had both poured into your crafts. And yet, success had never come without its shadows. Doubt, tension, the watchful eyes of those who lived to speculate, to pick apart your every move. But despite it all, you rose. You both did. Because nothing—not the noise, not the pressure, not the skeptics—could overshadow the truth: you worked for this. You earned this.

You internally screamed at his effortless transition, grateful for his ability to sense your nerves before you even voiced it. He knew that this would bring up something you didn’t want to think about again, and he wasn’t going to let you go there. Your fingers began toying with the collar of his sweatshirt as you focused back on what he was saying, “So you’re saying we’re untouchable?” you winked.

“Untouchable and Unstoppable,” he corrected with a smirk, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pushing into the skin and watching it pop back into place. “No one comes close,”.  

And they didn’t. Nobody could come close to the level of stardom you two had, and combined? 

Forget NFL QB and Pop Star, you were The Royal Couple of America. The world had been obsessed ever since your relationship went public, and the frenzy hadn’t died down one bit. If anything, it had only grown stronger. With every new detail that was shared, every photo, every little crumb from your time together, they fell even more in love with the two of you.

A soft sigh left your lips as you melted into him, your head resting against his shoulder and your body shifting closer to his. “Are you excited?” you asked, voice quieter now. “For everything coming up?”

“Excited?” he scoffed, pulling back to meet your gaze. “I’m fucking hyped. I get to watch you set the stage on fire, and I get a front-row seat. Does it get any better than that?”.

You bit your lip, playing with the hem of his shirt. “I’m nervous,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Announcing the album, stepping into this new era…I’ve been waiting for this. I need this. To really turn the page. I just hope it goes the way I want it to. I really really love this album and I hope they don’t get caught in the revenge gimmick of it all when truthfully, this album is a love letter to you,”.  

Joe’s eyes softened as he cupped your face gently.

A love letter.

A love letter to the man who had shown you the kind of love you’d always dreamed of, the kind you never thought you deserved. The way he’d supported you, held you up when you felt like crumbling, and how every moment with him felt like coming home. A love letter to those late nights, when the city was asleep, and all you could taste were his lips…your idea of luxury. A love letter to days in the sun, when you were drinking on the beach, with him all over you. A love letter to the king of your heart. To your endgame. To your Karma. To Daylight in human form. 

“I promise it’s going to go the way you want, okay? You’ve worked so hard, put your heart and soul into every song, every little thing with this one. I can feel how special it is to you, and your fans, the ones who’ve stuck by your side since day 1…they’re gonna see it,” he assured you. “You’re about to kill it, baby. This is your moment,”.  

A slow smirk spread across your face as you traced your fingers over his chiseled jaw. “And what do I get if I win?” you asked, your voice laced with heat, a kind of heat that sent a thrill through Joe’s body. 

His expression turned mischievous as he dipped his head closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a deep murmur. “Lots, and lots, and lots of time in bed,” he rasped, his teeth grazing your earlobe before he gave it a teasing tug.  

A breathy gasp left your lips as you pulled back slightly, your eyes flickering up to his. “Perpetually horny,” you whispered, your hands sliding up his bare chest underneath his hoodie, nails dragging along his belly, teasing him until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  

Joe only grinned, completely unapologetic because he really didn’t care. He meant it. Every damn word.

“You love it,” he shrugged, his hands slipping beneath your sweatshirt again, fingertips tracing absentminded patterns against your back. His hands slowly inched closer to your bra clasp, and you weren’t going to stop him. 

Because he was right. Damn, you loved it.  

You loved the way he’d rile you up like this…subtly, with the most gentlest of touches. You loved the way he’d cover every inch of your skin with his mouth, like worship, like devotion. You loved the way he fucked the feelings out of you, made you forget about everything except him—except the way he felt inside you, the way he made you unravel, the way he whispered your name like a promise.

You loved when you got caught up in a moment with him, with lipstick on his face. 

You’d let him do whatever he wanted to you, wherever he wanted, and whenever he wanted. Because with him you were safe. With him, you didn’t care. With him…you let things go they way they were meant to go. 

Flashback 

It was late. Way too late. But you didn’t care. The studio was dimly lit, the warm glow of the soundboard and the neon sign on the wall with your name casting soft shadows across the room. It was just you and Joe—your favorite kind of recording session. No producers, no distractions, just the two of you. 

And so it goes…

You adjusted your headphones, eyes flickering to the glass separating the recording booth from the lounge area. Joe was sprawled out on the couch, his black hoodie slung over his shoulders, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He had his hood up, but you could still see the glint of his baby blues as he watched you intently, lips quirked up in admiration.

You pressed play, letting the instrumental flow through the speakers. The bass thrummed low, sultry, the beat crawling under your skin as you let the music take over.

I'm yours to keep, and I’m yours to lose…

Joe let out a low whistle, clapping his hands together. “Yeah, that’s my girl,” he grinned, dimples flashing. “Fuck, that sounds sexy as hell,”.

You bit back a smirk, running a hand through your hair before stepping back up to the mic. You tried to focus, but it was hard when you could feel his gaze on you—hot, unwavering, dripping with pride and something else that sent a spark of heat straight to your core.

You know I'm not a bad girl but I, do bad things with you

Joe groaned from the couch, shifting slightly as he felt a growing tent in his sweats. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Those lyrics…the implications of what you were saying. That’s what drove him mad. You weren’t a bad girl, but with him? It was as if you lost every shred of decency and shame in your body. From the risky late-night escapades after dinners in New York, to the way he’d press you against the wall of whatever storage closet you stumbled into at the facility just because he wanted to taste you—the primal urge taking over every one of his senses—to the way you’d scream his name as loud as you could while shaking underneath his sweaty body in the privacy of your hotel room…on a very public floor. You didn’t give two fucks with him, and that solidified the effect he had on you.

He was like a drug, blocking out every one of your senses and making you feel euphoric and untouchable. 

Your lips curled into a smirk, taking note of his obvious discomfort, “You okay over there?”.

He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze dark and hooded. “No,” he murmured. “I’m struggling,”.

Your stomach flipped.

You tried to keep it professional—you really did—but when you stepped out of the booth, something in the air had shifted. Joe was already pushing himself off the couch, eyes locked onto yours as you met him halfway.

“This is soundproof, right?” he murmured, referring to the studio room, his hands finding your waist, tugging you flush against him.

You smirked, dragging your nails down his chest. “Mhmm. You’re dating a singer, baby,” you whispered, pressing your lips against his jaw. “We can be as loud as we want in here,”.

That was all it took.

In an instant, he had you bent over the soundboard, your palms splayed against the cool surface. He shoved your leggings down, not even bothering to take them off completely—just enough to give him access. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he smirked, dragging his hands over your ass, gripping the plush flesh hard enough to make you gasp. “Standing up there, looking like a fucking dream. singing those lyrics? You knew what you were doing,”.

“Joe—,”.

Your words cut off in a sharp moan as he slid two fingers between your folds, teasing, spreading your arousal. “So wet,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “Always so fucking wet for me,”. You whimpered, pushing your hips back against his hand, but he pulled away, leaving you desperate and empty.

Then, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Your breath hitched, your nails scraping against the console as he pushed in, slow at first, making you feel every inch as he stretched you open.

“Oh…fuck,” you gasped, head dropping forward. Joe groaned behind you, hands gripping your hips tight as he bottomed out. “Jesus Christ, baby,” he muttered, voice strained from pleasure. “Always so goddamn tight for me,”.

He pulled back, just a little—then slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. “Joe!” you cried, your voice bouncing off the soundproof walls.

That was all the encouragement he needed.

He set a ruthless pace, hips snapping forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin mixing with your desperate moans and his intense, breathless groans. Your ass bounced against his pelvis with each deep thrust, the force making the soundboard shake beneath you.

“Yeah, that's it,” he gritted out, watching the way your body responded to him, how you took every single stroke like you were made for him. “Look at you, baby. Taking me so fucking good,” your legs trembled, pleasure coiling tight in your belly as he hit that spot deep inside you, over and over again.

“Joe, please—,”.

“Please what, baby?" he chuckled, his hand moving down to your ass, kneading the flesh as he continued to rut into your dripping heat. “C'mon, baby. Tell me what you need,”.

“More,” you sobbed, rocking back against him, chasing your release. “Fuck me harder—,”.

His groan was guttural, almost pained as he watched your eyes roll back, your jaw slack and your hand gripping the console like your life depended on it. “Yeah? You need it?” he murmured, gripping your hips even tighter before fucking into you with reckless abandon, dragging you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust.

The pleasure was too much. Your body burned, feeling growing so intensely that all you could do was hold on, your moans turning into broken cries.

Joe loved it.

“Listen to you,” he groaned. “Screaming for me, just like that. Fuck, baby, you sound so good. So fucking good,”. His hand trailed down your back, nails leaving faint scratches to amplify the sensation you were feeling in your body. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and he knew it. “B- baby p..please, I can’t…agh,” you whimpered, the coil in your stomach tightening with each snap of his hips into your core. 

His hand slid down further, fingers rubbing tight circles against your clit. “Cum for me,” he panted, his pace relentless. “Wanna feel you squeeze my cock, baby. Let me have it,”.

Your whole body tensed, a high-pitched moan ripping from your throat as the pleasure snapped—your orgasm crashing over you in a white-hot wave. “Ohhh, fuck. Joe, mmph,” you panted, his rhythm faltering as you walls clenched around him.

“That’s it,” Joe rasped, “Fuck, I’m gonna—,”. He thrusts in one last time, burying himself deep, spilling into you with a soft, lustful groan before loosening his grip on your hips. “Oh, fuck,” he panted, slowly coming down from his high while he remained buried inside of you. 

The only sounds filling the studio were your ragged breaths and the low hum of the track still playing through the speakers, looping in the background like the soundtrack to this moment. your vision blurred, the dim glow of the LED panels above molding into something cosmic—like the city skyline outside, like the stars you and Joe traced with your fingertips whenever you stayed up too late on the balcony.

Joe finally pulled out, a soft kiss pressed between your shoulder blades as his hands soothed over your hips where his grip had definitely left bruises.

“So it goes?” you murmured breathlessly, looking back at him, your voice strained with the aftershock of your orgasm. 

He chuckled, still breathless, forehead resting against your spine. “Yeah,” he nodded, pressing another lingering kiss to your bare skin. “So it fucking goes,”.

But he wasn’t done with you yet—not like that. Before you could even process it, he was moving, slipping out of your in search of something, leaving you cold and fucked-out against the console.

“Stay right there,” he said, voice softer now, filled with tenderness. A few seconds later, he returned with a small towel from the corner of the studio, one of the ones you always kept here for potential food or drink mishaps. He crouched between your legs, cleaning you up with the utmost care. “You okay?” he asked as he tucked your hair behind your ear.

You nodded, a lazy, blissed-out smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay,”. He kissed your temple, helping you adjust your clothes before handing you a half-empty water bottle from the table. “Drink,” he told you, before pulling you into him, arms wrapping around you. His fingertips traced slow, absentminded patterns over your thighs as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I missed you today,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper, like this wasn’t the hundredth time he’d told you that.

You hummed, nuzzling into him, the warmth of his body grounding you. “You’re insatiable,” you teased, but the way your fingers curled into him, the way you melted against him, told a different story.

End of Flashback 

That night was the perfect example—messy, unrestrained, all-consuming. Whether it was those late hours in the studio, tangled up in the haze of music and lust, or the nights spent wrapped up in each other beneath the sheets, it was always like this. Intense. Perfect. 

Like everything was falling right into place, just for the two of you. 

His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra, his touch featherlight, teasing, like he had all the time in the world to tease you. But the heat pooling between your thighs begged to differ. You needed him, now.  

“Tell me,” he murmured, lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, purposely stopping himself from kissing you which he could see you so badly wanted. “Tell me how bad you want it,”.  

Your breath hitched, fingers curling against the hard planes of his stomach. “Joe—,”.  

“Nah, baby,” his voice was a low rasp, his hands sliding underneath the straps, fingers massaging your skin. “Say it. I know you were thinking about it, I can see it in your eyes,”.

Busted. 

A soft whimper escaped you as you absentmindedly rocked against him, chasing the friction you craved. He chuckled smugly, that signature cocky confidence you fell in love with practically dripping from his body.

Because he already had you exactly where he wanted you.

And that was his favorite part. 

—

A few days later — Los Angeles, California

Sunset Boulevard.  

The Hollywood Sign. 

The Walk of Fame. 

Those same paved streets you used to stroll down years ago, when your innocence and naivety were still fully intact. When your dreams…well they were just dreams at that time. When the closest you’d got to stardom was accidentally being mistaken for a celebrity because you’d walked into a coffee shop on Sunset with those navy blue Prada shades perched on your nose and the matching bag around your shoulder. 

Your first big girl purchases. 

You remember how back then, you sat in your shoebox apartment in Studio City, textbooks and notebooks stacked high on the coffee table, mocking your so-called ambitions. Reminding you that a degree, a stable job, a normal life was your best bet. That making it in this industry was a long shot. That you’d never get there.

With the stars.

You spent hours refreshing your inbox, praying for a response to your audition tape…hell, even acknowledgment of the demo you’d sent out. Because back then, you thought acting was your best shot. That music—the real dream—was too far out of reach. But you couldn’t have been more wrong.

Because here you were now. In the heart of the city of angels. Sitting in a vanity chair with your name stamped across the back. Your team buzzing around you in your dressing room, makeup brush in one hand, a tablet with your schedule in the other, your custom Versace dress hugging your body like a second skin. At the Grammys.

Because you did make it. And you weren’t just with stars. You were the star.

Coming back here…to this city…the place that once was your dream, after everything? It was evoking a number of emotions within you. This was the city where you fought for every opportunity, where the recording booths and studio lots held your wildest dreams. But once you had it—once you lived it—you realized this wasn’t how you wanted to exist. That you couldn’t stand the constant pressure and spotlight on you. 

You loved SoCal, the picture-perfect beaches, the electric pulse you’d feel while cruising down Beverly Hills. But beneath the glitz, the sparkle, the promise of it, this place was hell. The paparazzi lurking outside your house, trailing your every move, digging for dirt. The relentless scrutiny, the hidden jealousy that was deeply rooted in the people you considered your friends, the constant hunger for more. 

So you did what you knew how to do best. When things got hard, when they stopped feeling right, when the life you built started to feel more like a cage than a dream—you bolted. Like hell. Straight to the city that never slept, hoping its restless energy would drown out the noise in your head. But in your rush to run away from it all, you didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to question if you were running toward something better or just away from the chaos you left behind. Your judgment was poor, and New York? It was the worst place you could’ve chosen to find peace.

You wanted to escape the loudness of LA, but New York was even louder. The flashing lights, the rapid pace, the way it swallowed people whole without a second thought. You tried to lose yourself in the towering buildings, the crowded streets, the music that pulsed through subway tunnels and rooftop bars. You tried to convince yourself that this was where you belonged, that the city would be your saving grace. And in a way, it was. It helped your career soar.

But at an irreplaceable cost.

Your happiness. 

When the version of New York you had in your mind faded—the romanticized dream of it all—you realized that this place wasn’t for you either. The loneliness and chaos here was just as loud as it was in LA. Surrounded by strangers who moved with purpose, who seemed as if they had it all figured out, you felt like the outlier. The straggler. The one who had wandered too far from home, only to realize she had no idea how to find her way back. And the lingering question in your mind this entire time was…where was home? And just when you thought things couldn’t get worse, everything you’d built came crashing down—because of him. The biggest mistake of your life.

Those green eyes you once considered your safe haven? They were darker than you ever could’ve imagined. Like a storm brewing just beneath the surface, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was as if, with one swift motion, he had taken his hand and wiped the chessboard clean, sending every carefully placed piece tumbling to the ground. The rules no longer applied. The game was his to control. And you?

You never even stood a chance.

But then, you felt it—the eerie calm in the thick of chaos, the kind that only exists in the eye of a storm. The world around you was still spinning, the remains of everything you’d been running from circling just out of reach, but for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t being pulled under. It was quiet. Not the kind of quiet that made your ears ring, but the kind that coaxed you to open your eyes, to really look, to really see.

And when you did—when you finally dared to lift your head—there they were.

A pair of piercing blue eyes, steady and unwavering, cutting through the destruction like a lighthouse in the middle of a stormy sea. Eyes that didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch, didn’t turn away. They just watched you, saw you, held you in place when everything else threatened to slip through your fingers.

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t lost anymore.

He took your hand in his and suddenly, the storm that had raged around you didn’t seem so terrifying. He didn’t just pull you from the wreckage; he became the place you could run to, the shelter standing strong against the winds and relentless downpours.  

With him, the chaos dimmed to a quiet hum. The weight of the world didn’t sit so heavily on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a refuge; he was a promise—one that whispered, “I’ve got you. You don’t have to do this alone anymore,”.

You found yourself going back and forth, sneaking into his bed from that point on. You couldn’t resist the way he made you feel—like you were more than the world made you out to be. In his arms, you were whole. You were more than just a name or a face; you were someone deserving of peace, of love, of calm in the storm. When the cameras wouldn’t stop poking. When the headlines and comments became too sharp. When you needed to be held, to be reminded that you were still flesh and bone, not just a brand. You’d run to him. To his bed.  

And in the blink of an eye, that bed became your home.  

He became your home.  

Joe became your home. 

“Joe…,” his name slipped from your lips in a whisper, barely audible. You were so lost in your own daydream that you didn’t even realize you’d said it out loud.

Jen—your assistant—noticed the way your gaze had drifted, your fingers toying with the fabric of your dress. She knew that look all too well. It meant one of two things—you were nervous, or you were thinking about him. And judging by the soft, faraway expression on your face, she already had her answer. She smirked knowingly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the vanity. “He’s really got you in a chokehold, huh?”.

Her voice snapped you out of it, your eyes refocusing as you blinked a few times. “What?”.

Jen let out a soft laugh, shaking her head in amusement. “Joe. You were thinking about him, weren’t you?”.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “I was just…zoning out,”.

“Mhm.”.

She wasn’t buying it. Of course, she wasn’t buying it. That’s because she was Jen.

Jen was an enigma—impossible to define with just a few words. She had a little bit of everything in her: sharp wit, relentless determination, and a heart big enough to carry the weight of all the people she cared about. She was kind, but with an edge that guaranteed she was never underestimated. Brilliant in her work, yet always a step ahead, using her cleverness like a well-honed weapon. And most importantly, she would do anything for you—not just because she was your assistant and PR manager, but because she was one of your best friends.

She’d been with you since day one, witnessing every mistake, every triumph, every late-night breakdown, every whirlwind romance, and every gut-wrenching fallout. She knew the struggles you had tolerated to get here, the price you paid for your success. And no matter how messy, chaotic, or impossible things got, she never walked away.

Her job wasn’t easy. You knew that. And sometimes, the guilt of it sat heavily on your shoulders.

But Jen? She never let you carry it alone.

And that meant everything to you. 

“Zoning out about your football-playing lover, I assume,” she winked, knowing all too well what that glint in your eyes meant. When you and Joe first started hanging out, in that ‘get to know each other’ phase, you had carefully hidden it from everyone in your life. Friends, family, your manager, even Jen. But this woman could read you like one of her many floral notebooks, filled with detailed notes and perfectly color-coded tabs. She had a knack for spotting the things you tried to keep buried—especially when it came to him.

You should’ve known better than to think you could hide it from her. It was in the way your phone never left your hand, the way your smile lingered a little longer after a text, the way your eyes darted toward the door whenever he was supposed to be near.

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, shaking your head as she smirked. “You think way too highly of yourself.”

“Maybe,” she hummed, reaching for your lip gloss on the vanity, “Or maybe I just know you better than you know yourself.”

“She knows me way too well, ugh,” you thought, sighing and finally conceding. “I just…this is a big night, you know? And it’s our first red carpet together. It’s…a lot. Tonight is a lot for more than one reason,”.

Jen nodded in agreement, her teasing smile softening into reassurance. “It is. But you’ve done this a million times, Y/N. And now, you get to do it with him. You finally have someone with you who wants to support everything you do, wants to be on your arm, and wants to let you have center stage. But you also have someone who wants to shield you, protect you, be that steady hand that won’t ever let go of you. That safety net that’s always ready to catch you.,”. 

That part was true. You weren’t walking this carpet alone. You weren’t facing the flashing lights, the screaming reporters, the endless scrutiny by yourself. Joe would be right there, his hand in yours, standing beside you like he always did. But he wouldn’t do anything to make this about him. No. He’d never steal your moment, never even think about doing something to outshine you. 

That’s what separated him from the rest. And that thought alone made everything feel a little easier.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the vanity table. You glanced down and felt your heart do that stupid little flip it always did when you saw his name.

joe: almost go time. how’s my girl doing?

You bit your lip, trying (and failing) to suppress your smile as you typed back. God, the way he sent butterflies through your stomach by sending such a normal, typical boyfriend-like text to you made you want to shove your face into a pillow and scream like a teenage girl. 

you: nervous. excited. wish you were here already though. i miss you

Seconds later, the three little dots appeared.

joe: i’m on my way, promise. it’s just this stupid ass LA traffic like why are we just sitting here. they act like there isn’t multiple routes to get to the arena

you: welcome to grammy weekend in LA baby. get used to it ;)

joe: i wish i could just fly like superman or some shit. but i’ll be there. trust me. i’ll run all the way if i have to 

The thought of him actually doing it—sprinting down the streets of downtown LA in a perfectly tailored black suit, breathless, sweaty, that wild determination in his eyes—sent a shiver down your spine. The image alone was enough to make your stomach flip.

“I’m so fucked tonight—especially because he’s wearing the suit,” you thought to yourself. 

It had been your wish for the longest time—to see Joe in a suit, crafted by one of your favorite designers. You’d pictured it so many times, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. The sharp lines, the way it fit him just right, the way he carried himself in it. It was almost unfair how good he looked.

You knew he preferred comfort, especially at events like this. He was never one for the glitz and glam, never one to trade comfort for something too flashy. And the last thing you ever wanted was for him to feel like a fish out of water. But tonight was different—tonight was important to you. And he knew that.

So when you casually brought up the idea, expecting at least some resistance, he surprised you. He didn’t complain, didn’t hesitate. He just agreed. Because if it mattered to you, then it mattered to him. Sure, the scratchy fabric and tailored fit would probably have him fidgeting all night, but he had you by his side. That was all the comfort he needed, the only thing that truly mattered. 

As you got lost in the whirlpool of thoughts regarding how amazing and rewarding it would feel to peel his suit off his chiseled body tonight, after the hectic and tiring experience of it all, you saw another message bubble appear from him.

joe: which by the looks of it, i will be ;)  good thing me and dak worked on cardio last off season 

joe: but you know i got you. always. i’m gonna be with you soon. i promise 

A smile rose on your lips at his last message, “He’s on his way,” you told Jen, admiring his text for a second more before sending him a white heart emoji and placing your phone back on the table. “I didn’t show him the look for tonight so…make sure you have an AED on standby,” you joked, settling back into the chair as your makeup artist finished applying the last bit of highlighter to your rosy cheeks. 

Jen shot up straight, her movements suddenly precise and efficient, as if a switch had flipped in her brain. The moment your words registered, a silent alarm seemed to go off, setting her into motion. Without a word, she spun around on her heel and walked toward the couch, where your travel bag sat. You watched, brow furrowing, as she crouched down and carefully unzipped the side compartment with the kind of focus that made it seem like she was handling something far more serious than, well…whatever it was she was looking for.  

Your curiosity grew as she rifled through your belongings, her fingers moving with purpose. “Uh…Jen?” you said, your voice laced with amusement. “What exactly are you doing?”.

She didn’t answer instantly, too busy locating exactly what she was looking for. When she finally pulled it out, she held it up like it was a crown jewel.  

The thigh chain.

It was a gorgeous gold chain decorated with a pattern of diamonds and black jewels, which shimmered under the dressing room lights. The delicate ‘J’ charm at the center catches every glimmer. 

This was the most important piece you had custom-made. The one you’d kept a secret, just like your dress.  

Jen grinned triumphantly. “This,” she said, holding it up for emphasis. “This is going to be the thing that sends him over the edge,”.  

You laughed, shaking your head as she handed it to you. “You think?”.

“Oh, I know,” she smirked. “You’ve been killing him with these little touches lately, and this? His initial wrapped around your thigh? He’s going to malfunction on the spot,”.   

You bit your lip, glancing at the delicate chain in your hands before looking at your reflection in the mirror. The final touches were coming together, and you couldn’t have been more excited for the carpet. For the chance to show everything off now that you were coming back into the limelight. Your dress—custom Versace, stunningly sculpted to your body—was already a showstopper. The blacks, the golds, the silvers…it was as if you were wearing your album in clothing form. The snake ring and the stack of gold and diamond chains around your neck matched the aesthetic you were going for perfectly.  

Oh, and how could you forget?

The bracelet. 

The one he had custom-made for you by Cartier and had gifted you during your trip to Cannes. It sat around your left wrist, his initial and yours shining brighter than any piece of jewelry you were adorning tonight. It was the only personal addition to your look, partly because you never took it off, but mostly because you wanted just about everyone to know how much this meant to you. How much he meant to you. Show them how—just like the bracelet said inside the band—the stars all aligned. They aligned for you both and this moment you were sharing, and you were ecstatic to share a glimpse of that with the world.  

But this? The thigh chain…this was even more personal. A quiet, intimate detail meant just for him. And well…whoever else’s eye it caught. Your fingers traced over the black and gold ‘J’ before you looked back at Jen. You knew he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you with this on, let alone remain standing after he saw you in this dress. You felt awful for getting him so flustered by wearing things like this—whether it was a new bikini, a new dress, or a pair of jeans that hugged you just right—because you knew he paid attention to every little detail of your body. Every curve he ran his hands along, every expanse of skin he pressed his lips to, every crevice he was allowed to cherish. 

But that was what made this so exciting.

“...Alright, help me put it on,” you grinned, your fingers sliding the fabric off your thigh to disclose the skin where the slit was. 

She smiled, placing her hands on your shoulders and giving you a reassuring squeeze, “With pleasure,”. 

—

Safe to say…Joe was in need of immediate medical attention when he walked into your dressing room.

The moment he caught a glimpse of you, everything else seemed to fade into the background for him. Like the world was draped in a dark cloak, and the spotlight was shining just on this beautiful figure in front of him—you. His blue eyes widened, his jaw slackened just enough to make you smirk, and for a second, he just stood there, taking you in like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

And when you did a little twirl—letting the dress cling and shimmer in all the right places—he damn near lost it.

“Holy—,” he started, but his voice cut off as he raked a hand through his hair, exhaling with a sharp breath. But then…then he saw the chain. The delicate gold and black diamond ‘J’ draped around your thigh, catching the light with every subtle movement.

“Is that—,” he said a little quieter, slowly walking toward you as his eyes remained glued to that specific piece of jewelry. You bit your lip, watching his reaction play out with pure satisfaction. Then, with the smallest tilt of your head, you shifted the dress slightly, unbuttoning the slit just a bit to let him see it better. His breathing hitched. “Is that…my initial?”.

He was right in front of you now, close enough for you to see the way his pupils had blown wide, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying so hard to keep his composure. But he was failing. 

Miserably.

“Mmhm,” you hummed, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joe let out a low curse under his breath, dragging a hand down his face before shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then, without a single warning, his hands found your hips, gripping tight enough to make you gasp.

“...Joe—,”.

He leans in, lips hovering just below your earlobe, “You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers, voice strained and raspy, which combined with the way he was hand was firmly placed on your hip, only meant one thing. 

He’s horny. 

Slowly, a satisfied smirk tugged at your lips as you felt the heat of his breath against your skin, his grip on your hips tightening like he was using every ounce of restraint not to lose himself right then and there. His nose brushed against the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and you swore you felt him shudder. “Wearing my initial on your thigh like that…you knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?”. 

You tried to stop a giggle from escaping your lips, but it came out as more of a breathless hum. “Maaaaaybe,”. 

Joe groaned, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, heavy with something deep and unfiltered. His jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against your hips before he sighed heavily like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts were running wild in his head. “You expect me to just carry on after this? This dress is insane on you, and you’re already gorgeous as is but…damn, Y/N. Makin’ me feel a lot of things right now. You look so…so gorgeous, and I swear I’m about to short-circuit,” he muttered, looking at you like you were the sole reason for his downfall.

“You managed to make it here in one piece,” you teased, fingers tracing absentminded patterns against the fabric of his suit jacket. “Maybe that means your self-control isn't as bad as you think,”.

Joe let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Yeah? You think so?” his fingers trailed lower, brushing against the exposed skin of your thigh, just above where the chain rested. His touch sent a shiver up your spine. “Because right now, all I can think about is how fast I can get us out of here,”.

You raised a brow, pretending to consider it even though you knew that you couldn’t skip this even if you begged Jen on your knees. “That would be a real shame, wouldn’t it? After all, I did put this whole look together just for you. Made sure I showed off just enough of everything to keep you on edge all night…so you wouldn’t get bored,”.

Joe's head tilted, his lips twitching in frustration. “You’re evil,” he muttered, his hands squeezing your waist one last time before he forced himself to step back. He dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath before shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m gonna need a damn miracle to make it through this night without ripping your dress off at any given chance,”.

You slouched your shoulders, feeling a little more at ease now that he was by your side. “And I’m gonna need a miracle to make it through tonight without having a manic breakdown,” you nervously chuckled, grazing over his suggestive joke and suddenly feeling the reality of the situation as if you hadn’t spent weeks preparing for this specific moment. 

You’d have to face the buzzing cameras, the invasive questions, deal with the whispers and the constant attention—good or bad—for the first time in nearly a year. You’d been away from all this, and although you had slowly made your way back into the limelight during Cannes & Paris last month, treated it as a quiet reintroduction, this was the biggest test. 

Because not only were you just walking the carpet, you were making a statement. A statement that you were back, not going anywhere anytime soon, and you were happy. Your smile would be brighter than the stars, genuine and heartfelt. But most importantly, the pristine image they created of you would finally crumble. 

You could finally just be you.  

This was the first time you were putting yourself back in the game, pushing yourself back into the fold of the business you lived for. The last time the world saw you, you were a ghost of yourself, swallowed whole by the weight of everything that had gone wrong. They had watched as your life unraveled in real-time, dissecting every misstep, every crack in the facade you had so carefully built. You had become their favorite tragic storyline.

But now, you were coming back—stronger, sharper, more in control than ever. Reclaiming your throne with more confidence, talent, edge, and zero fucks to give. And yet, not giving a fuck was what made this so terrifying. It was a constant tug of war inside your mind between the girl ready to make that statement and the girl who cowered in fear of the idea of this backfiring. 

The sharp sting of those words echoed in your mind, rumbling through your chest, threatening to dim the light you had fought so hard to reclaim.

“Because when people fall out of love with you, there’s nothing you can do to make them change their minds. They just don’t love you anymore,”.

You had said it once. Spat it out like poison on a night when sleep was the last thing on your mind, in the dim glow of his living room, wrapped in the kind of grief that felt like it would never leave your bones. And those words were all you could think of currently. 

Joe's expression softened instantly as he carefully watched your movements. He could see it—the way your fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, the slight tremble in your breathing, the way your confidence wavered just for a second. And that second was enough for him to step in, to remind you why you were here, why you were meant to be here. “Hey,” he murmured, reaching for your hand. His thumb traced soothing circles along your skin, a simple but significant gesture. “You don’t need a miracle, baby. You’ve already got this,”.  

You huffed out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have to worry about the screaming paparazzi or interview questions designed to make you slip up. I swear to god if I hear one of them pass a single disrespectful comment or ask me about him. I’m walking right out,”.  

Joe smirked, squeezing your hand. “And as you should. But you know, I do have to make sure I don’t black out the second I see you step onto that carpet, looking the way you do,”.  

That earned him a small smile, but the nerves still lingered. He could feel it. He had become an expert at seeing right through you, even when you tried your hardest to hide your emotions from everyone around you. He’d only been with you for a short amount of time—compared to some of your friends and family—but somehow, he knew you better than they ever could. 

So, he did what he knew best. He anchored you to him, his fingers tightening around yours as his blue eyes locked onto yours, and he spoke to you. And if there was one thing Joe Burrow was good at? It was speaking.  

He was the best listener you knew, but even better at giving advice. Every word that left his lips was thought out, measured, and laced with a warmth that could bring you back from the deepest trenches of your mind. He had this way of making even the most chaotic moments feel painless, like everything wasn’t as terrifying as it seemed. And when he spoke to you specifically, his words were extra soft. Not once did he lose his patience, raise the tone of his voice, or even utter a word that would rub you the wrong way. 

“I know this is big. I know it’s a lot all at once. But you’re not walking out there alone. You’ve got me, you’ve got Jen, you’ve got your team. And more than that? You’ve got the entire world watching, waiting to see you own that carpet and stage he way only you can. Waiting to see you come back and take what was always yours,” he assured while giving you a warm smile. “Remember everything we worked on these past few months, okay? Number 1. They don’t know you. Number 2. They don’t own you. Number 3. They can’t touch you. You control this game, now. They wanted you gone, so you did what they asked and you took your shit and left. Now, you’re back. And now, they’re all waiting out there for you. They follow what you do. They listen to what you say. And they are afraid of what you’re going to do. Not the other way around. You’ve made them wait for months to the point where they need you. You don’t need them,”.  

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink into your skin. He was right. You’d spent months away from this world, rebuilding your life, your confidence. Spent all your time refocusing, rewiring everything they’d forced upon you. 

He was right. They needed you. 

They needed you because they could feel the weight of your absence, the lack of the kind of excitement only you could bring to the table. An empty hole in the industry that many tried to cover, but failed miserably. And that was because there was only one you. You’d taken the time to heal yourself and prepare yourself for the moment when you’d have to come back. And now? Now was that moment. And you weren’t just walking the carpet.  

You were taking it back.

Your name. 

Your reputation. 

Without speaking a single word, you launched yourself forward, looping your arms around his neck and burying your face into his chest. You inhaled the scent of his expensive cologne, a warm mix of sandalwood, amber, and the faintest hint of something undeniably him. It was intoxicating, comforting, the kind of scent that wrapped around you like a protective shield.  

Joe didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in tight like he was trying to mold you to him, like he could hold you together even when the world threatened to pull you apart. And for a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the flashing cameras waiting just beyond the door, the weight of expectation pressing against your chest. None of it mattered—not when you were here, safe in his arms, breathing him in like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to the earth.  

“You good?” he murmured against your temple, voice laced with concern.  

You nodded, but your grip on him tightened, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket. 

“Liar,” he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.  

You exhaled a shaky breath, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. Those blue eyes that had saved you once before. That were still saving you now.  

It was almost strange how effortlessly he could pull you back down to earth when your mind started to spiral. Joe excelled at just about everything—football, leadership, and being a role model for his fans. But if there was one thing he was truly unmatched at, one thing he did better than anything else…  

It was being your person. And not once did he ever make you feel like that was difficult for him to do. 

“Just…don’t let go yet,” you whispered, wanting to stay in the quiet calm of this special moment for as long as humanly possible.  

Joe’s lips twitched, but there was something serious in his gaze as he ran a hand down your back, soothing you, steadying you. “Not a chance, baby. Not a fucking chance,”.

—

A half-hour later — Red Carpet 

The moment your heels touched the edge of the carpet, a small wave of nerves crashed over you like the first signs of an impending storm. The sight of the flashing lights, the sound of the camera shutters…they were relentless. A blinding, dizzying storm of light and noise. You hadn’t stepped onto the actual center carpet yet since you were waiting for Joe to finish his conversation with Jen, but you could already hear the voices calling your name, overlapping in a chaotic symphony. You could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that sensation made your skin crawl. God, you had almost forgotten how much you hated this part of what you did. 

You took a sharp inhale, nervously adjusting the fabric of your dress with your trembling fingers as you waited for Jen to lead you over. Once you felt her gentle hand wrap around your forearm, you knew it was go time. “I’m okay…I’m okay,”  you mentally chanted, but were you trying to convince yourself that you weren’t about to burst into tears…or everyone else?

But then, the second your gaze locked with the paparazzi—the eager voices calling your name—something in you shifted. Suddenly, the nerves, the hesitation, the creeping doubt? Gone with the wind.

“Well, that was easy,” you smiled to yourself, surprised at how all it took was the call of your name for you to calm down. But just like how it wasn’t easy for you to reach this point in your life—where you felt secure in the world you’d built, deeply in love with the man of your dreams, excited about your future—it wasn’t going to be easy to just waltz back into this world, despite how seamless it initially felt. And that fact hadn’t hit you just yet.    

Like flipping a switch, you straightened your posture, lifted your chin, and stepped forward with a grace and confidence that had taken months to master. Your movements were effortless, your expression poised. This time was different. This wasn’t like the years before when you let them dictate your every move—the way you smiled, how long you posed, how much of yourself you gave away.

No.

This time, you were in control.

“Y/N! Over here!”.

Flash.

“We missed you!”.

“How’s Joe?”.

“A little to the right!”.

Flash. Flash.

“Y/N, look over here!”.

“Gorgeous! Stunning!”. 

Joe stood off to the side, just beyond the madness, watching you with pure awe. He had seen you like this before from a distance—poised and radiant under the spotlight—but there was something different about tonight, about seeing it up close. Maybe it was the way the dress clung to your body or the way your presence commanded attention even when you felt like crumbling beneath it. Maybe even the way you were standing there as yourself for the first time, and not the version of yourself the media had created. Either way, he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

But unfortunately for you, nice things don’t always last as long as you’d hope. You could feel it—the creeping anxiety, the familiar pressure pressing against your ribs because well, it was too good to be true. Did you really think they’d learned to be respectful and less invasive during the time you were gone? Please.

“Why’d you disappear?”.

Flash.

“What happened between you and him?”.

Flash. Flash. Flash. 

“Did you cheat on him with Joe?”.

“The chain on your thigh, is that for Joe?”.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, and your chest tightened as the chaos began to overwhelm your senses. The cameras, the flashing lights, the sea of eyes dissecting your every move, it began to blur all into one maddening hum. That familiar heat crept up your spine, flushing your cheeks and burning your eyes. 

And those questions? Those fucking questions?

Had they just…forgotten? Forgotten how he had shattered you, how he had stripped you down to nothing, piece by piece, betrayal by betrayal? Had they forgotten how it all came crashing down in one disastrous, very public fallout? The leaked texts, the photos, the posts that turned into headlines overnight?

Had they forgotten him? The man who made you doubt everything you ever knew about love? Because you sure as hell hadn’t.

They had the audacity to think you cheated? Did your previous album just write itself? Did you simply disappear for almost a year just because you felt like it?

And then it hit you. You were feeling exactly like how you felt nearly a year ago. 

Like history was repeating itself in the worst way possible.

Like you were back in that hotel room, the one you fled to because the paparazzi had opened up shop outside your home, waiting for a glimpse at you. A glimpse at America’s new favorite tragic storyline—who couldn’t keep her picture-perfect relationship or career straight. It was like you were holding your phone again, hands trembling as you scrolled through an endless flood of headlines. What Really Happened Between Them? The Fall of a Pop Superstar. America’s Sweetheart: Not So Sweet After All?

Rumors twisted into daggers, and speculation sharpened into accusations. Each tweet, each article, each dissected frame of your past relationship pushed deeper into the open wound until you weren’t sure where their version of you ended and the truth began.

And now, here you were. Face-to-face with the past.

Your breath hitched.

Your body betrayed you, a subconscious step back—small, but telling. The doubt crept in first, then the fear, then the overwhelming weight of it all. For the first time in a long time, you felt her—the girl you used to be. The one who had crumbled under the pressure, who had let the world convince her she was nothing more than a failed love story.

Then, like instinct, like second nature, like it was all you knew, you turned your head in search of him. 

Joe caught your nervous gaze in an instant, and he moved without a second of hesitation. He didn’t even need you to say anything, because he just knew. He saw it happen in real time, how your loose posture stiffened, how you dug your fingernails into your palm, how your radiant smile faltered for a split second.

He saw the way your eyes were slowly softening, crying out for him with a silent plea. 

The second he was at your side, his presence wrapped around you like thick armor, shielding you from the suffocating fog that was forming around you, making it harder for you to breathe. His large, warm hand found your waist, fingers pressing into the black fabric of your dress just enough to let you know—I’m here. After he gave you that gentle squeeze, like clockwork, your shoulders dropped, your breath evened, your pulse no longer hammering against your ribs. It was like he turned down the heat just before the water boiled over, keeping everything steady before it could spill into chaos.

But even though you had relaxed a little, the cameras didn’t stop. The voices didn’t stop.  

“Are you nervous to see him?”.

Flash.

“Is it true you have an album coming out?”.

“Joe, how does it feel knowing she wrote an entire album about another man?”.

Flash. Flash.

“Joe, how do you feel about her past?”. 

Your jaw clenched, but before you could let the words settle in your mind, lose yourself in the nonsense, before the whispers could crawl under your skin, Joe leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. With a bold grin he murmured, “I cannot wait to fuck you tonight,” voice rough around the edges in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “After you win everything and steal the spotlight like I know you can,”.  

A breathy laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, all the cameras caught it. Thankfully, they couldn’t hear his words because they were being drowned out by the sound of their own relentless questions. God, you’d seriously never show your face again (for real this time) if they heard something that was strictly meant to be spoken in private. When you tilted your head to look at him, you looked straight into his eyes, instantly sensing exactly what he was doing. Calming you, distracting you, making sure you stayed with him instead of plunging into the chaos. 

And damn it, it worked. Like a charm. 

For once, his cheeky comments and shamelessness were to thank, usually they made you roll your eyes but now they were your saving grace. You still rolled your eyes, however, but smiled because of his silly, maybe even slightly insatiable way of getting through to you. “Watch your tongue, Burrow,” you grinned as you leaned into him for just a second longer, letting yourself relish in the heat radiating off of him, the way his fingers toyed with the fabric of your dress, his hand slipping lower and lower. But then…

“Joe! Kiss her for the cameras!”

“Give us something good!”

“Show us you’re not just the rebound!”

Your grip on him tightened, that last particular comment hitting a little closer to your heart than you would have liked. “They just wouldn’t quit, would they?” you thought to yourself, the idea of Joe, the man you’ve been calling your home for 9 months, being a rebound, was sickening. And Joe being Joe, once again noticed your mild discomfort instantly. 

He turned to you, tilting his head slightly, blue eyes sparkling with something mischievous and entirely too smug. It was the shade of blue his eyes had been all those times he’d motioned for you to sneak off with him to one of the storage closets during practice. The shade of blue his eyes had been every time he pulled you into his childhood bedroom when you were visiting his parents, just because he needed you alone, because he missed the taste of your lips. The shade of blue his eyes were every time he asked you to run away with him. 

And then, before you could react—he pulled you close and kissed you. He just kissed you so casually in front of an entire audience of paparazzi, in front of every single person in this room. The man who despised PDA, who hated flaunting his affection, just pressed his lips to yours in front of the entire world. 

Not just a quick peck for the cameras. Not just a half-hearted attempt to silence the speculation.  

No, this was a soft, warm, slow kiss. A kind of kiss that you two shared in private, away from the rest of the world because it was far too sacred to share. 

A statement. The statement.  

It silenced the whispers, shattered the doubts, and rewrote the narrative in real time. It wasn’t a rebound. It wasn’t for show. It wasn’t a carefully calculated move for the cameras. This was real—undeniably, unapologetically real. It was a declaration, bold and clear, that your love was something to be celebrated, not dissected. That he wasn’t just standing beside you—he was standing for you. He didn’t have to kiss you, he really didn’t. But he wanted to, and he did it with no room for hesitation or doubt. This said that as long as he was here, no one could touch you, no rumor could shake you, and no ghost from your past could haunt you.  

It was a testament. To him. To you. To the love you had built; one that didn’t just survive the storm, but came out stronger on the other side.

Your breath hitched, your body momentarily frozen as his lips moved against yours with the kind of certainty that made your head spin. You knew how he felt about things like this, but at this moment, it seemed like he didn’t care at all. The flashing cameras, the relentless voices, the suffocating atmosphere, all of it melted away.  

It kind of reminded you of the first time you kissed him. 

When he pulled back, there was a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, like he knew exactly what he had just done to you. “Oh,” you breathed out, blinking up at him.  

Joe chuckled, his thumb brushing against your waist, his voice teasing as he leaned down again, just for you. “What? Didn’t see that coming?” he smiled. 

No, you didn’t. That was exactly why your jaw went slack, eyes locked onto his as the butterflies in your stomach turned into a full-blown hurricane. The cameras flashed in rapid sequence, capturing every lingering glance, every effortless touch, every moment between you and Joe that was sure to dominate headlines by morning.

You barely had time to process it before you felt his hand glide back to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly into the fabric of your gown as he subtly angled your body toward the cameras. And then, like this was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled you in just a little closer, flashing that signature Joe Burrow smile—the one that had fans wrapped around his finger and the paparazzi eating out of the palm of his hand.

He was giving them a show. Giving them exactly what they wanted while maintaining the wall that prevented them from prying into your carefully crafted safe space. And the thing was? He wasn’t even trying.

You held onto him a little tighter, standing tall beside him, your confidence growing under the ardency of his touch. A few more poses were made, some designed specifically to show off your thigh chain, which was making Joe’s body temperature rise by the second, but also should be doing numbers online by now. You gave them a few more smiles, a few more adorable moments caught in the flashing lights as you made your way down the carpet. But suddenly, as you were nearing the end, it felt like the energy shifted; like the clouds outside had become dark with warning, like the stitches along your heart—the one’s Joe placed—were being picked at.

The yells started again. Louder. More urgent.

“There he is!”. “Y/N, look!”. 

You felt your heartbeat come to a sudden pause, your breath hitching and your stomach churning all in one go. It was the feeling of pure dread curling in the pit of your stomach, like ice-cold water was rushing through your veins. Your body tensed instinctively, muscles freezing as your eyes darted toward the paparazzi who were all looking back. The room suddenly felt like it had shrunk, the walls closing in as the once-deafening crowd faded into white noise. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears, and feel the weight of every inhale, every exhale, as if the very air had condensed around you.

Your fingers tightened at your sides, “No. Not here. Not now,” you muttered under your breath. And when you followed their gazes back onto the carpet, your entire world tilted on its axis in a way it hadn’t since last year.

You saw him. He was there. He was here.

Your ex.

His piercing green eyes locked onto yours with an unsettling sharpness, as if he was trying to tunnel his way back into your soul, back into the very place he once claimed as his own. The same soul he had cradled with whispered promises and sweet nothings, only to stab away at it with his insecurities, his flaws, his selfishness.  

And you hated it.  

What was worse—what made your skin crawl—was the way he dared to smile at you. That same cheshire cat smile he used to flash when he wanted to smooth things over, to lull you into compliance, to make you forget the way he had gutted you time and time again. As if he thought he still had that power over you. As if he thought he had the right to look at you like that after everything he had done—after turning your love into a battlefield, after making you question your worth, after reducing you to nothing but a fractured version of yourself.  

And the cameras? They were capturing every second of it.  

They weren’t catching the invisible scars he had left behind, the ones that only you could feel. They weren’t catching the nights you had spent fraying in the dark, trying to piece yourself back together from the wreckage he had left behind. They weren’t catching the way he had rewritten your reality, made you second-guess everything you knew about yourself.  

No. They only saw the spectacle. The headlines. The narrative.  And the worst part? He didn’t even care.

The blissful bubble you had been floating in popped in an instant, a flood of memories hitting you like a freight train. The things he said to you, those poisonous words that you thought were the truth, they came rushing back.  

“You’re exhausting, you know that? It’s always something with you,”.

“Nobody actually cares about you in this industry, they just care about what you can give them,”.

“Maybe if you weren’t so needy, I wouldn’t have had to look elsewhere,”.

“You act like I hurt you so badly, but you should be thanking me. I made you relevant,”.

“You’re never satisfied. I could give you the world, and you’d still find something to complain about,”.

“You act like you’re perfect, like you never did anything wrong in this relationship,”.

“She’s just a friend, stop being like those other girls, Y/N,”. 

The way he made you question yourself. The guilt trips. The gaslighting. The loneliness that had stewed even when you were right beside him. It all came back to you, making you feel like it was just yesterday when your entire world, the only one you knew, crumbled to pieces and went up in flames. 

You didn’t even realize you had zoned out until you felt Joe’s touch, and when you did, you jumped from the warmth he brought back to your ice-cold skin. “Hey, hey,” his voice was softer now, laced with concern. His fingers brushed over your hand first, then your cheek, coaxing you back to him. “It’s okay, It’s okay. I’m here,”.

He had seen him too, and the anger Joe was feeling was far worse than anything you were. He had to control the urge to walk over there and swing at him, make that pathetic excuse of a man feel the same kind of pain he inflicted on you that had you feeling like this even months later. 

Joe didn’t have to say his name for him to understand how you felt. He didn’t have to ask because he knew what you were feeling, because he could recognize the look in your eyes. His other hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek in soothing strokes. He dipped his head, forcing your eyes to meet his. “I love you,” he murmured, quiet and soft enough just for your ears to catch. “I’m here now. It’s going to be okay. He can’t hurt you,” he said, the look in his eyes drawing you in. They were endless, like the deep ocean at midnight, swirling with something extensive and unlimited. Small streaks of lighter blue shimmered like stardust caught in the waves, galaxies trapped beneath his irises. There was something magical about them, something that made you feel light, like if you stared too long, you might get lost and never find your way back. But you didn’t want to look away. His eyes held everything—comfort, love, a silent promise that you were safe, that as long as he was here, nothing could touch you.

He had spent the last nine months proving that your past didn’t scare him. That the baggage you carried wasn’t a burden, but something he wanted to help you hold. That love—real love—didn’t come with conditions, ultimatums, or twisted justifications. Joe had seen the cracks in your foundation, the places where love had once lived before it was shattered, and instead of stepping around them, he had sat beside you, helping you piece yourself back together. He didn’t ask you to forget, didn’t rush you to heal—he just stayed and waited. 

He loved you when you were radiant and untouchable, standing under the bright lights with the world at your feet. But more importantly, he loved you in those quiet moments, when you couldn’t stand on your own. When you were lost in the shadows of your past, gasping for air under the weight of memories that tried to drag you back.  

And right now, that love was all you needed to believe in. “...Okay,” you nodded, eyes fluttering shut as you breathed in his comforting scent and melted under his touch. You needed to remember that he was the past, no longer a factor in your future, a future that was as bright as the light shining on you. No longer something you’d let yourself be defined by because you were defined by the things you loved. 

You had healed. You had grown. You were happy. 

And you did all of that without him. You did all of that with Joe.  

Joe kissed your forehead softly, lingering for just a second before gently guiding you off the carpet, ignoring the chaos behind you and bringing you back to reality. His eyes locked with Jen, who was already rushing to your side along with the rest of your team. You felt her hand gently grab your free hand, a sign of confidence given as she gave a firm squeeze, “You did amazing, Y/N. I had no idea he would be here, let alone get on the carpet right after you. But you did great, seriously,” she assured you, and after taking another deep breath, you returned her sentiments with a soft smile. 

“You need to thank Joe, you know,” you laughed quietly, nudging his hand to get his attention as the two of you made your way through the doors toward the entrance to the main hall. The distant hum of the crowd buzzed through the walls, a persistent reminder of where you were, of what was waiting just beyond the next turn. “I may have been toeing around the manic breakdown territory line, but he did what he always does,” you smiled up at him.  

“Save you?” he simply asked, tightening his grip on your hand as you both passed more paparazzi, who seemingly took a step back once they saw the look in Joe’s eyes. One that screamed: That’s enough of that. Freak her out again and I’ll throw you across the room like a football. 

You stepped through the last curtain, the dim backstage hallway meshing with the electric glow of the arena. The moment you stepped into the open, the mere scale of it hit you like a tidal wave. Hundreds upon hundreds of people filled the seats on the floor and throughout the arena, the air vibrating with excitement and anticipation as this night was known for when musicians left their marks and had their moments at the center stage. The massive stage was illuminated in deep silvers and golds, shimmering under the lights and it stole your breath, just for a second. It was like this was your first time being here, and in a way…it kind of was? 

It was your first time here as the new you. 

Your fingers tightened slightly around Joe’s as your eyes traced the stage—the very place you had poured your heart out, which felt like a lifetime ago, where your voice had carried through every inch of this arena, where you had left pieces of yourself behind in every lyric. Seeing it now, bathed in light, surrounded by the crowd’s buzz, made something settle in your chest. Pride. Awe. A little disbelief.  

Who knew you could have missed the sights and sounds of this place so much?  

Joe squeezed your hand, bringing you back to him. “Hey,” he murmured, ducking his head slightly so you’d meet his eyes. “You okay?”.

You nodded, exhaling, your lips curving into a small smile. “You don’t need to save me,” you finally answered, glancing up at him. “You do that thing…with your eyes, and your touch. Like you’re asking me to run away with you without actually saying it…when I get like that. All zoned out and nervous,”.  

A smirk tugged at his lips. “And would you?”.

You leaned into him, heartbeat calming, a comforting heat radiating between you as you looked back at the stage—at the place where you belonged. “Every time,” you whispered, a little breathy as if the shimmering lights, open stage, and sleek black microphone had cast a spell over you, making it hard for you to focus on him.  

And as he led you toward your seats, his fingers laced with yours, thumb sliding up and down yours out of habit, you knew the past couldn’t touch you here. Not with him by your side. This was your night, and nothing would stand in the way of taking back what was once yours. But most importantly, Joe wouldn’t let anything get in the way. Whether it was your own nerves threatening to take over and strangle your confidence or the ghost of your past trying to cast a shadow over your moment, he was there to shield you.

He had seen you plant the seed of this night long ago, watching you from afar, from the screens, before he got to know the woman behind the art. He watched as you nurtured this album through storms of doubt and heartbreak, as you tended to it with passion and dedication. And now, as it finally bloomed into something magical, something with the potential to be extraordinary, he wasn’t about to let anything ruin it.  

You had grown, and flourished despite everything meant to break you. That was the most admirable thing about you. Your strength, your ability to rise from the ashes time and time again—like a flower pushing through the cracks of concrete, refusing to fall—were some of the biggest reasons he had fallen in love with you.  

Joe had always known you were special, but watching you now, still standing tall under the pressure of it all, he was reminded of just how unstoppable you truly were. No matter how many storms had tried to destroy you, you had only come back stronger, more vibrant, more you than ever before. And to him, that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

—

The ceremony was in full swing just a half hour later, and once it all commenced, you felt yourself easing into the moment, the tension in your shoulders loosening bit by bit. The spectacle of it all—the glittering stage, the flashing cameras, the sheer magnitude of the night—had initially been overwhelming, but now, surrounded by the best company, it felt a little less daunting.

You were seated with the perfect group—Joe, Jack, Margaret, Taylor, and Sabrina—each of them a pacifying presence in their own way. Laughter bubbled up between sips of champagne, conversations floating effortlessly between catching up and playful banter. For a moment, it almost felt like just another night out with friends—except, of course, for the hundreds of people in the arena, the millions watching from their homes, and the fact that your name had already been called more than once by the presenters on stage.

That’s right…more than once.  

Three times to be exact.  

Once for Best Pop Solo Preformance, which had you frozen for a good 10 seconds once it was announced, then for Record of the Year, which you nearly missed because you were in the bathroom, and finally—one of the most important categories—Song of the Year. 

It hadn’t registered in your brain that this was really happening, that your talent and work were being recognized in the highest regard. You really came into this expecting absolutely nothing, especially after the year you had, and well, pissing off your ex-boyfriend’s dad who happened to be the very respected CEO of your former record label doesn’t exactly increase your standing in the industry. But regardless of everything that happened, the label switch, the breakup, the drama, they were celebrating your piece of work and you without any hesitation. But you were still confused as hell each time you heard your name, like…did they actually care? Because it sure as fuck didn’t feel like they did when you actually needed them in your corner.

That’s why you couldn’t believe it when you heard your name come from the stage…again. You were mid-sip of champagne, fully convinced that Taylor would win for SOTY, already half-turning toward her to celebrate her moment—until the words actually registered in your head.  

“And the Grammy goes to...Y/N for ‘Is It Over Now’!”.

For a second, it felt like the world stopped. The golden lights blurred above you, the roaring applause barely reached your ears, and all you could do was sit there, mouth slightly open in shock, processing what had just happened.  

Then, Joe was in your line of vision, his eyes wide before they crinkled with a proud, almost cocky smile. Before you could even think, you stood up and launched yourself into his arms, a squeal leaving your lips as he caught you effortlessly, lifting you slightly off the ground. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight as he pressed a firm, lingering kiss to your lips. The cheers from your table—hell, from the entire arena—only grew louder at the sight of it.  

Joe swayed you side to side, his hands gripping your waist as he leaned back just enough to beam at you. “You did it, baby. 3 for 3 so far, like I told you. Full sweep,” he murmured, his voice filled with so much love it nearly made you tear up on the spot.  

You barely had time to catch your breath before you turned, immediately dapping up Jack, who grinned and pulled you in for a tight hug. “I fucking told you!” he laughed, shaking you slightly. “Song of the Year, baby! Look at you!”. When you looked over you saw that Margaret was wiping at her eyes, her happiness for you—someone she considered a sister—coming out in the form of tears. Sabrina was screaming, letting everyone around you know that you just did that, “Look at her!! That’s my fucking girl!”. And Taylor? She looked both proud of one of her closest friends and in awe of how Joe was, once again, openly showing this much affection towards you in front of everyone.   

It was perfect. So freaking perfect.

Heart still hammering against your ribs, you made your way to the stage, your entire figure shimmering and dazzling under the lights, and as you took the golden trophy in your hands from the presenter, you exhaled sharply into the mic, still dazed. Still unsure of how the hell you got up here in one piece. 

You don’t remember what you were saying in your acceptance speech, almost feeling like your mind was detached from your body and you were moving on autopilot, but all you could sense was that whatever you were saying had everyone in the room looking up at you with a genuine proud smile. The same room of people who you had thought turned their backs on you a year ago, had stabbed you in the back when you were at your lowest, were celebrating you.

The only thing you did remember from your speech was something you wouldn’t normally do. 

A dig. 

The old you would never shade someone like this, let alone at all. She would quietly accept her award, give everyone their flowers, downplay her role in her own accomplishment—emphasis on her accomplishment—and leave the stage. Because that’s what she had been trained to do.

The new you? Oh, she didn’t care whose feelings were hurt, who was offended that they didn’t get a shout-out, or if he was listening. 

Which was why…

“—And of course,” you added, voice laced with a syrupy sweetness that didn’t quite match the glint in your eyes, “A very special thank you to the one who inspired this lovely, lovely Song of the Year,”. You let the words sit in the air for a second, flashing a knowing, almost dangerous smile. “He knows exactly who he is,” you smirked, locking your eyes with the person you had so sweetly called out in front of an entire arena filled with celebrities, studio execs, media, and his own peers. “Thanks for that! ‘Cause now I got one of these,” you smirked, nodding towards the golden trophy in your palm. 

The crowd lost it. Laughter, gasps, and even a few whoops filled the arena. They all knew who you were talking about, it’s not like your album and even this song was lacking any clues, and their reactions were doing exactly what you needed them to do. Make him nervous and show everyone your newfound edge. 

When you scanned the crowd again, this time searching for something sweeter rather than sour & bitter, you saw Joe, still in his seat, throwing his head back with a laugh, shaking it in pure amusement. “God, she’s so good,” he chuckled to the rest of the table, his heart swelling with pride because he was witnessing the by-product of months and months of deprogramming and healing—unshakable confidence & the balls to grab the bull by the horns.   

You grinned, shifting gears as you returned to what you originally meant to do up here. “But really, this means the world. Thank you for letting me do what I love. Thank you for letting my pain turn into something beautiful. And most importantly…thank you for letting me prove that I could still do this,”. You lifted the Grammy slightly in the air, a silent moment of gratitude before nodding at the crowd. “I love you guys. Thank you, again!”.  

With that, you made your way offstage, an echo of applause filling the air, your heart still pounding, your hands slightly shaking from disbelief, but the moment you locked eyes with Joe again—all you felt was peace. 

After the show went to commercial, you spent a few moments chatting with your peers as they came over to congratulate you, even allowing them a chance to formally meet your date, a few of them even wanted to take a photo with him because well…he’s Joe Burrow. You weren’t paying that much attention to what they were talking to him about because your attention was being held captive by the performance stage, feeling the nerves creep back in as you were soon going to be up there and doing what people came here to do—make their marks on the night where artistry was honored. 

Once the conversations around you died down and the crowd dispersed, you eased back into your seat, letting out a breath of relief as you let yourself sink into the familiar fervor of Joe beside you. Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against your thigh, your eyes sweeping over the room, scanning for any trace of Jen. There was only one thought in your mind now, only one sound really. 

The sound of the clock ticking. 

Then, you felt it—Joe’s hand coming down over yours. The touch alone made your breath hitch, but it was what he did next that made your chest tighten. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. His lips were soft, the heat of his breath tickling your skin, sending a shiver up your spine. The simple, intimate gesture calmed you, pulling you back from the whirlwind of nerves spinning in your chest.

His voice was quiet, just for you. “That was badass,” he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk against your skin. “Calling him out like that? You had the whole damn place eating out of your hand again,”. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his blue eyes locked onto yours, filled with something intense—something that made you feel like the only person in the room. “You deserve every second of this, and I’m so fucking proud of you,”.

Your stomach fluttered, heat rising in your cheeks. Joe had always been proud of you, and had always been your biggest supporter, but hearing it tonight—after everything—hit differently. It settled deep inside your bones, quieting the self-doubt that sometimes crept in.

“I just spoke my truth,” you shrugged, squeezing his hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “And, okay, maybe I had a little fun doing it,”.

Joe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “A little fun?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to that husky, intimate tone that always sent a thrill down your spine. “Baby, you set the whole damn place on fire the second you touched the carpet. I seriously think the entire city will fall after you announce the album. Like triggering an earthquake not caused by the San-Andreas fault line,”.

A breathy laugh escaped you but it was unfortunately short-lived, the importance of what was coming next settled over you once again; the realization that you couldn’t escape the inevitable. The performance. The moment that would redefine everything. The moment you had been waiting for ever since you started recording reputation back in August. Your pulse quickened at the mere thought of being on that stage, singing those lyrics that nobody had heard yet, wearing those colors that were meant to usher you into a new era. You were excited about this, no doubt about that, but you were feeling those jitters again since you hadn’t done this in a very long time. 

Joe must have sensed it because he gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at you with the most gentle smile humanly possible. He knew how to handle you in moments like these, with words that held the same kind of intensity his pep-talks to his guys during half-time would, but conveyed with a softness that allowed you to be vulnerable with him. 

“I don’t deserve him,” you thought to yourself, a pout forming on your face because of how he could easily tell when something was bugging you. Before you could answer, some movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Jen was making her way toward you, her earpiece in place, phone in hand, her signature smile on her face. “It’s time,” she said, voice stable but laced with uncontrollable excitement as she also had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You inhaled sharply, your fingers tightening around Joe’s one last time before you stood. His eyes never left you, steady and sure, his silent way of saying, You’ve got this. I believe in you. You turned back to him before you walked away, your voice softer this time, but laced with that newly developed cocky confidence of yours that he adored so much, “Are you ready for it?” you asked, leaning down to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek. 

His smirk deepened, something mischievous flashing in his eyes when he looked into yours after you pulled away. “Let the games begin,” he winked. 

You stared into those beautiful blue eyes for just a few more seconds, fully taking in the last few moments of peace you had before you let Jen guide you backstage so you could get changed into your performance look. The moment you stepped behind the curtain, the energy shifted. The bass of the music thrummed in the floor beneath your feet. The buzz of the crowd vibrated through the walls. The anticipation was thick, electric, and ready to explode the second you stepped onto that stage.

“And next, she makes her long-awaited return to the center stage! A special performance by Y/N!”.

A breath shuddered from your lips as the wardrobe team rolled up the rack carrying your performance look—an all-black, sparkling bodysuit that shimmered like something unreal under the lights, knee-high boots—sleek and powerful. 

The final nail in the coffin. 

You flexed your fingers, rolled your shoulders, breathing through the last lines of nerves. “You got this…You got this,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else, shaking your arms to ease the tension and loosen your body.

Just behind the curtain, the stage was waiting for you. The entire world was watching to see what you were going to do, what your next move was going to be. Would the headlines in the morning be drenched in praise, commanding your return? Or would they drip with disappointment, another story of a star who couldn’t reclaim their light?

You refused to let it be the latter.

Fingers tightening around the edges of the vanity table, you stared into your own eyes through the mirror, searching for the fire that had carried you this far. You inhaled deeply, steadying yourself against the whirlwind of nerves and adrenaline crashing through your veins.

Then, with quiet confidence, you whispered to your reflection, “Remember who you are,”.

—

The arena hummed with electricity as the lights dimmed, the murmurs of the crowd turning into a haunting silence. They didn’t know what was coming—nobody knew except for Joe and the people at your table. You had kept this a secret, held it close to your chest like a hidden weapon, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They all expected you to perform your hit single, it was the most logical thing to do since it was your leading nomination tonight and the most safe move you could make after coming back to the scene.  

But since you were in an era of unpredictability & breaking through the standards people set for you, you were going to do the exact fucking opposite. Safe is great, it’s comfortable and familiar, but risk is even more thrilling. You had been preparing to perform two unreleased songs from reputation for the past month, and this was it. Here it was. 

The lights shifted to a dark mix of crimson red and black, the first haunting notes of Don’t Blame Me rang through the speakers as you stepped onto the stage. Your voice was sultry and controlled, your figure cloaked in the shadows as you hummed the opening melody of the song.

And then a few seconds later, the lights around you flickered away, a spotlight shining behind you highlighting your silhouette as the shadows moved in sync with the pulse of the song.  

“Don’t blame me, love made me crazy…,” you sang slowly, your body gradually being revealed by the spotlight, cheers and applause ringing through the arena as you came into their lines of vision. “If it doesn’t you ain’t doing it right…,” you continued, now starting to walk forward towards the center of the stage—your stage. 

Then, a flurry of background dancers and backing vocalists came onto the set, taking their places behind you as you smirked at the audience, fully immersed in the adrenaline that was coursing through your veins. And damn, it felt so good. 

Like you were coming home. Like your thirst was being quenched for the first time in a century. 

“Oh lord, take me, my drug is my baby, I’ll be using for the rest of my life,” you belted as the backing vocalists made the lyrics echo throughout the room through their voices, your own voice dripping with raw intensity, dripping with power. The bass rumbled through the stage beneath your boots as you continued, vibrating in your chest as the music built, electric and intoxicating. Your dancers moved behind you in perfect synchronicity, their bodies swaying, their movements sharp yet fluid, feeding into the dark, hypnotic energy of the performance.

Your arms stretched out, head tilting back as the lights flashed in perfect time with the crescendo, bathing the stage in pulses of deep crimson, gold, and black. You felt it—the power, the desire, the sheer force of hundreds of voices screaming your words back at you, feeling every single lyric as deeply as you did.

You continued through the song, your vocals had never been better, and you were hitting every move with an effortless ease that drove the entire crowd mad, giving them looks—the pettiness, the confidence, the change all shining bright. 

The realization hit you right then and there—Joe was right. You were absolutely untouchable and unstoppable, the crowd goes wild at your fingertips. You surrendered yourself to the music and the choreography, allowing the drug that was performing on stage to overwhelm your senses and the euphoric rush to kick in.  

As this song neared its end, you found yourself back in the center of the stage, your breaths coming in pants yet remaining controlled as you continued to the final verse. But just as they expected this game-changing performance to end here, you kept going. 

With a wicked grin curling your lips, you let the words drip from your mouth like honey laced with poison. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what you made me do…,”. Your gaze swept across the crowd, calculated, searching. You weren’t just performing anymore—you were hunting.

And then, you found him.

Tucked away at one of the tables to the right of the stage, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. His skin had gone pale, his hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, his entire body stiff as if he had just seen a ghost.

You tilted your head, smirk deepening as you zeroed in. Slowly, you raised a single hand, finger raising like a loaded gun, pointing in his general direction. And then, you moved. A slow, calculated fall, lowering onto your knees with grace, eyes never leaving his. The lights shifted, bathing you in deep crimson again as you let the final words roll off your tongue, each word laced with venom. “Don’t blame me, don’t blame me, don’t blame me for what. you. made. me. do,”.

Boom.

The bass dropped, the lights pulsated, and the transition was seamless—Look What You Made Me Do crashing into the track like a strike of lightning, the guitar echoing through the air like thunder, like a second heartbeat pounding against your ribs.

The entire arena erupted.

It was an explosion of sound—cheers, screams, the electricity of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm. Every flick of your wrist, every strut across the stage was met with unrelenting energy from the crowd. This wasn’t just a performance. This was a reckoning. A return. Another statement.

The kick. The power. The sheer, indescribable high of being back where you belonged, doing what you did best. You had missed this—the stage, the heat of the lights, the deafening sound of your own name being screamed by thousands of voices.

You had starved for this moment. You had waited for this. You worked for this. From the looks on their faces, they had too. The question hung in the air, unspoken but loud—Why the hell did she disappear? Because watching you now, with all that fire, all that command, all that untouchable, magnetic presence—it was impossible to believe you had ever left. 

You twisted and twirled, your dancers following in perfect sync, the dark, theatrical magnificence of the set shifting around you. Your lips formed a knowing smile, the adrenaline thrumming in your veins, pulsing with the beat, with every perfectly timed pause and drop.

And then, you reach the favorite part of your song. You mimicked a phone with your fingers, raising it to your ear as you looked out to the crowd, “I’m sorry, but the old Y/N can’t come to the phone right now,”. You shrugged, “Why? Oh…'cause she's dead!”. The bass drop that followed sent a bolt of electricity through the room, the strobe lighting, the movement of the dancers, your movements—it all came together. Those lyrics, it was a message to everyone. Bold, loud, and irreversible. 

The old you, the one they all knew, she was gone. Your past was gone, and you were moving forward. The cameras caught every second—flashes of the audience, the stunned faces, the way everyone was fully, hopelessly, entirely enthralled.

And the man who supported you in getting here was watching it all. Joe stood at your table, eyes locked on you like you had personally rewritten the stars. He’d never seen anything like it before, the way you commanded the crowd with your enchanting voice, how everyone was stunned by the theatrics of the performance you’d spent hours designing with your team. His heart swelled at the sight of seeing you up there, so confident and sure of yourself, especially because he knew how nervous you had been for this. He had always believed in you, but seeing you like this? Seeing you reclaim every ounce of what was stolen from you—owning it—had him completely, utterly mesmerized.

You smiled when you saw that his phone was in his hand, recording every second of your performance which he would surely watch back with you tomorrow and give all of his adorable commentary. His jaw clenched, his lips twitching at the corners as he mouthed along to the words. The giant smile that played on his mouth displayed his pride, his awe, it was something deeper—something that made you tighten your grip around the microphone. 

Then…your eyes met his directly. It was like a slow-motion collapse of everything around you, the world quieting to nothing but a faint hum, the screams and flashing lights fading into the background. It was just you and him. The man who was your anchor, your constant, and your everything. And in his eyes, you saw everything you needed to.

His heart swelled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and the look he gave you was filled to the brim with love, making your breath catch in your throat. Seeing how proud he was of you just made your love for him increase to a level you never thought was attainable, it physically hurt. 

But in the best way possible. 

After the performance — Backstage 

“Oh my god! That was perfect,” Jen shrieked as she pulled you in for a tight hug, your breaths coming out in pants as you were trying to take in the moment. You had just finished the performance, your brain still hazy and legs feeling like jelly from everything that had just happened, and you had absolutely no idea how you made it backstage again, but somehow you did. 

“Mm, Holy sh- shit,” you breathed out, looking around at the buzzing energy surrounding you. Everyone was beaming, clapping, celebrating like they had just witnessed history being made. And maybe they had? You couldn’t really focus on any of that right now because you were still riding the high you had from the performance. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, heart battering in your chest, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins like liquid fire.

You reached up, running a shaky hand through your hair, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you tried to wrap your head around it. You had actually done it. You were back back, hadn’t missed a single beat, and somehow you were better than ever before. And it felt even greater than you could have ever imagined. “That was unreal,” someone said, patting you on the back. Another crew member handed you a bottle of water, which you eagerly accepted, taking a long sip to soothe your dry throat.

Jen was still gripping your shoulders, eyes lit with pride. “You owned that stage. Every single person in that room is losing their mind right now. Do you hear them?”.

You smiled at her mention of the crowd because you absolutely could hear them. Even backstage, you could hear the lingering echoes of cheers, the mere force of the crowd’s energy refusing to die down. There were probably about a million questions floating through their brains right now, and they’d all be answered soon—hopefully at least. 

It sent another thrill down your spine. You let out another breath, shaking your head in disbelief. “God, I missed this. I really, really missed this,” you said, getting a little emotional as you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. You’d been away from the one thing that you lived for far too long, had to learn to let go of this all because it wasn’t doing you any good, but now you were back. And you were coming back so strong. 

Jen grinned, her excitement oozing out of her as she gave you a gentle shake. “And this missed you,”.

Your fingers curled tightly around the water bottle, fingers rubbing against the condensation so you could cool yourself as you let the moment settle in. You could still feel the heat of the stage lights, the pounding of the bass in your chest, and the way the world had disappeared the second you locked eyes with Joe. 

You knew that every time you looked into his eyes the world around you would disappear, go fully silent—whether you were quietly staring into them before you fell asleep in his arms or in moments of panic like earlier on the carpet. But you had no idea that it would happen while you were performing, thinking that the rush you would get would overpower everything else. But no, you were wrong. 

He overpowered it, overpowered it all. Every single time, it was always him. 

“…Joe,” you murmured absentmindedly, your mind drifting just like it had earlier when you were getting ready for the carpet. But the distant sound of the announcer’s voice snapped you out of your haze.

“And coming soon, the award for Album of the Year!”

“Oh, shit,” you muttered under your breath, not wasting another second to get back out there and with him. You knew that you wouldn’t have a lot of time with him before the final award of the night would be presented, no matter the outcome. Whether you win or lose, you’d become occupied by press, media, your team, and peers considering you would either A. announce/heavily tease your album in your acceptance speech, or B. immediately post the announcement on your Instagram page. Both outcomes meant little to no time to just exist with him, time you valued more than anything else in the world. So, after murmuring a quick, “I need to change,” to Jen, you slipped away from the commotion and made your way back toward the dressing room.

You slipped back into your dress, put all your accessories back on, and spent a few minutes adjusting your hair and touching up your makeup, replacing your black performance lipstick with your signature pink/red mix. “That really happened,” you laughed to yourself in the mirror while adding a little more lip liner to your bottom lip, “I…really…I really did it,”. 

It took months and months of blood, sweat, and tears. But you actually did it. It was beautiful to see the difference that a year away from all of this could make in your life. For the first time, you felt at ease in every aspect—career, family, relationship, and friendships. You weren’t worried about what people were thinking, what criticism was running through their poisonous minds, you didn’t even care about if they liked the songs you just performed or not. Even better, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought. He spent months tearing your name down in front of the same crowd you just performed in front of, and now? Now it was your turn. And this time, he would sit back and watch you reclaim the land that was always yours.

“That’s the last time I let someone take this from me,” you smiled, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress before walking towards the door, your body filled with that kind of confidence you never thought you would be able to have. 

When you made your way back into the main room, the energy in the air was filled with anticipation, which only meant one thing. The final awards were being presented—important ones, no doubt—but they were just the final steps leading up to the moment everyone was waiting for. Album of the Year. The pinnacle of the night.

Navigating through the sea of tables, you felt every brush of a hand, every nod of approval, every quiet applause from your peers as you passed. The high-fives, the murmured words of admiration—it all fueled you, straightened your spine, lifted your chin higher with each step. You had done that, they all were acknowledging it, and you felt like the hottest thing in the entire city of Los Angeles right now. You had earned this moment.

And then you saw him.

Joe was right where he had been before, standing at your table, his back straight, shoulders squared, but his head turning, scanning the room. Searching. For you. The second his eyes met yours, everything about him shifted. His pink lips parted slightly, his eyes softened, but there was something else there too. Something deep. Something raw. A fire burning just beneath the surface. A fire that was lit within him from just watching you up on stage, being effortlessly you. 

And just like that, the rest of the world ceased to exist...again. 

You moved toward him without thinking, your pulse thundering in your ears, but for an entirely different reason now. His hands were on you the moment you were close enough—pulling you in, gripping you like it was instinct, like he had been waiting for this exact second. No words. No hesitation. Before you could even take another breath, before you could fully process the rush of everything around you—he kissed you. His lips moved against yours with a cadence that made your knees nearly buckle, as if he was trying to say everything he was feeling without uttering a single word. His fingers curled around your waist, the tight grip of his hands steadying you as the noise of the room melted into nothingness.  

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t believe you were real. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You were insane up there,”.  

You exhaled a breathless laugh, still trying to process the way he was looking at you, like he had just witnessed something divine. “Yeah?” you asked him.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, like he was making a promise. “I’ve never seen you like that before. You looked so…in control of everything. Like you could do anything your heart wanted. Like you had something else rushing through your veins, kinda like me when I’m out on the field. You didn’t even miss a single beat, no rust or anything. It was insane, Y/N. You were so amazing. You sounded so good, looked even hotter, and god, the way you were controlling the crowd? I’m in awe of you,”.  

He had this twinkle in his eyes when he was speaking to you, like he couldn’t believe what he had seen, like he couldn’t comprehend the fact that this side of you existed. His brain was actively short-circling, and you could see it behind his pupils. 

Adorable.  

A blush creeped up your cheeks as you let him guide you back to your seat around the table, your hands still tangled in his for just a few extra seconds before you finally let go. But he didn’t. His arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your shoulder, like he needed to keep that connection. “You feel it, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, just for you.  

You turned to him, eyebrows raising. “Feel what?”.

His blue eyes scanned over your face, studying you like he was trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He didn’t have to explain. You knew exactly what he meant. That rock—the one that had been pressing down on your chest for the past year—was gone. That heaviness, the burden of expectations, of pain, of loss. It had lifted.  

You weren’t carrying it anymore.  

“You sound different,” he continued, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, almost in disbelief. “Not just on stage. Right now. There’s…something in your voice,”. He paused, tilting his head, eyes flickering over your face like he was searching for the right words. “Like a breeze. Like it’s lighter. Fresh. Cool,”.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by how deeply he saw you, how effortlessly he could put into words something you hadn’t even fully acknowledged yet. But he was right, and that made your heart burst. That ache that had lived inside you for so long was gone. The feeling of everything—the heartbreak, the exhaustion, the doubt—it had lifted the second you stepped onto that stage. And of course, Joe noticed. He always did. “I missed this,” you admitted, voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I missed…feeling like this,”.  

Joe’s grip on your shoulder tightened slightly, his thumb pressing into your skin, promising and constant. “You never lost it,” he said firmly. “You just had to remember it was always yours,”.  

A lump formed in your throat as you met his eyes again, thick and unmoving. It was all there—etched into the smooth curve of his lips, the softness of his gaze. The pride, the love, the relentless belief in you. It had never once wavered, not even in the moments you had convinced yourself you weren’t enough. Not even when you had crumbled, doubted, disappeared.  

You wanted to tell him something, but you didn’t think you could because if you did you’d never stop crying. But not from unhappiness, but from overwhelming joy.  

Thank you.  

That’s what you wanted to tell him. Thank you for loving me when I couldn’t love myself.  

Thank you for seeing me when I felt invisible, for holding me when I swore I was unlovable, for standing beside me when I thought I had nothing left to give.  

These past nine months had been nothing short of a dream—one you had once been too afraid to believe in. From the quiet, stolen moments wrapped in his arms, when the world outside felt like too much, to the nights he stayed up just to listen. To remind you. To tether you back to yourself when doubt became too loud. Every whispered “you got this,” every brush of his fingers against yours, every look that said, I see you. I love you. I believe in you.

Every moment had led to this.  

And the truth crashed over you all at once—you wouldn’t be standing here without him. But before you could say anything, before you could even take another breath, the presenter’s voice rang through the grand hall.  

“And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for—Album of the Year!”.

The atmosphere changed in an instant. The quiet murmurs silenced, the entire room holding its collective breath. This was the moment that could change the trajectory of artists’ careers…or solidify their spot amongst the greats. This was the moment when they would declare whose year it had been, and which piece of music had captured everyone’s attention since the beginning. Which artist created something so special that it was impossible to overlook?

The competition was fiercer than ever this year. It had been an outstanding year for music—one that felt like a renaissance in its own right. The category was stacked with diversity, a seamless blend of genres that painted a vibrant picture of the industry’s growth. From pop anthems to soul-stirring R&B, from country storytelling to genre-bending masterpieces—every nominee had left their mark.

This could be your moment, and the thought of that made your stomach twist, your fingers instinctively gripping the fabric of your dress as if it were a pool floatie preventing you from drowning. Your previous album, Woodvale, had won big last time, you were leading the headlines for the entirety of the following week, but the one category that it didn’t win in, was this one. Even the media was stunned that you had managed to win in nearly all the big 4 categories, but somehow missed the mark for Album of the Year. 

Back then, it had all been about your rookie year, about proving yourself, about what you could do with your first real shot at greatness. It was about potential, about possibility. About making a name for yourself. But this time…this time, the meaning of it was different. Heavier. More personal. This award wasn’t just about the music anymore. It wasn’t just about the headlines, the charts, or the record-breaking moments. It was bigger than that. It was everything. It was the months spent piecing yourself back together after the breakup, the nights that stretched into mornings as you fought through the doubt, the exhaustion, the voices in your head that told you maybe you weren’t enough. It was every lyric scribbled in the margins of your notebooks, every melody born from the deepest parts of your heart.

It was you. All of you. This award—if it was yours—would be a symbol. A testament to the resilience, the pain, the healing, the love, the sheer force of will it took to make it back to this stage.

And now, it all came down to this moment. Would they hear you? Would they see you?

Joe’s hand slipped under the table, finding yours in the dim lighting. His fingers curled around yours, soft and assuring, lacing them together like they always belonged there. The simple gesture made your chest tighten, your eyes flicking toward him. “You got this,” he whispered, the confidence in his voice pushing out the doubt creeping into your body.

Your pulse pounded against your ribs. The envelope was in the presenter’s hands now, their fingers curling under the flap, tearing it open with deliberate slowness. Your breath felt stuck in your lungs, the anticipation stretching out unbearably, like time itself was dragging this out just to make you sweat. Joe leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, calming you in a way only he could. “I love you regardless,” he murmured, his voice softer now, threaded with something so deep it made your heartache. “You're still number one. You always have been and always will be,”.

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as his words settled deep in your chest. That was all you needed to hear. Win or lose, the truth remained the same—you had already won in the ways that truly mattered. No trophy, no accolade, no industry recognition could ever measure up to the happiness he gave you, to the love that consumed you. You had already won the greatest prize of all—a life with him.

When you looked back up at the stage you saw how the presenters smiled at each other, dragging out the suspense, the golden card in their hands holding the answer that would either send you soaring or leave you swallowing disappointment.  

A pause.  

Your fingers tightened around Joe’s.  

“And the Grammy for Album of the Year goes to…,”.

A heartbeat.  

“Is It Over Now! Y/N!”.

For a moment—just one fleeting, impossible second—you didn’t react. It was like your brain refused to process the words, like you had misheard them, like they were meant for someone else.  

But then the room erupted.  

Cheers. Screams. Applause so loud it shook the walls. The sound crashed over you, a tidal wave of celebration, of validation, of everything you had fought so hard for. Your hand flew up to your mouth as the realization sank in, the camera capturing every second. A choked sob escaped your throat, tears instantly welling in your eyes. 

Joe was on his feet before you could even move, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you into him like he had been waiting for this exact moment all night. Like he had always known it would happen. “You fucking did it,” he breathed against your hair, his voice carrying that light, drunken energy that made your cheeks blush—his grip impossibly tight.

Your hands clutched at the back of his suit, clinging to him as the first tears slipped down your cheeks. “I– I can’t believe it. Oh my god,” you whispered.  

But it was real.  

Your name was being called. People were standing, clapping, cheering for you. Your peers, your idols, the very people who had shaped you as an artist—they were all on their feet, celebrating you.  

Joe’s grip on you tightened for a second, like he didn’t want to let go just yet. His hands trembled slightly against your skin, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his voice nothing but a breath, a promise. “I told you this was yours,” he whispered. “I told you from the very beginning. And I will keep telling you every single day. I’m so proud of you, Y/N. I love you, superstar,”.

Your heart clenched, and for a moment, it wasn’t the flashing cameras or the roaring applause that filled your senses—it was him. His touch, his belief, the way he had always seen you, even when you couldn’t see yourself. You clung to him for a beat longer, forehead pressing against his, as you leaned in for a kiss. Before you pulled away, his hands slid down your arms, reluctant, but he let you go.

Because this moment was yours.

Jack was one of the first people you saw when you turned, hands in his hair, yelling, “I told you! I told you!” before practically tackling you into a hug. He was beaming, shaking you by the shoulders like he couldn’t believe it, like he could but still needed to make sure this was real. 

Margaret was crying, again, hands clasped together in front of her mouth before she reached out to squeeze your arm, whispering, “You deserve this,”. Sabrina was standing a few feet away, eyes glassy but full of joy, nodding at you like she knew exactly what this meant. Like she understood every step it took to get here.

And then there was Taylor. She had been one of the first to rise, clapping, smiling so big her dimples showed, eyes filled with nothing but pride. The second you met her gaze, she mouthed, “Go. Go take it,”. The moment wrapped around you, overwhelming, breathtaking, years of hard work, pain, resilience, everything leading up to this.

And as you turned, taking that first step toward the stage, Joe called after you, his voice laced with everything he was feeling. “Go show them why you deserved this,”. 

A breathless laugh bubbled out of you, the kind that only came when you were overwhelmed with happiness. You nodded before turning back and going toward the stage again. Your legs felt shaky, your chest tight with emotion, but every step forward felt like proof.  Proof that the sleepless nights, the pain, the doubt—it all meant something. Proof that no matter who tried to break you, you had built yourself back up stronger.  

And now, as you reached out to accept the golden trophy, standing under the blinding lights, the applause still booming around you…You knew for certain.  

It was never over. It had only just begun.

You stepped up to the mic, “Oh my God. Oh my God,” you say as you clutch the award, trying to catch your breath, voice already shaking. “I…wow. I don’t even know what to say right now,” you laugh tearily, your eyes pooling with tears while you scan the crowd. Every single person was standing for you, smiling for you, you couldn’t believe it. 

You took a deep breath, one to calm yourself, before continuing, “This album…this album came from the hardest, messiest, most painful time in my life, as you all know,” you said, watching a few nods come from people in the audience. “I didn’t know if I’d ever feel okay again, let alone be standing here, holding this. When I was making Is It Over Now?, I wasn’t thinking about awards or charts or accolades—I was just trying to…survive. I was trying to put words to the heartbreak, the betrayal, the absolute destruction of everything I thought was real. And now, standing here, looking at all of you, I realize…maybe it all had to happen this way. Maybe this was always how the story was supposed to go,”.  

You raised your hand to wipe the tear slipping down your cheek as you continued, “To my team, Jen, my producers Jack and Aaron—every single person who stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk away. I love you. We made something so real, so honest, and I’m so proud of what we created,” you smiled, pointing towards Jack at the table, watching him mouth a “Love you,” back to you. “And my fans…my god, my fans,” you laughed, allowing a moment for applause before continuing. “You guys have been with me through everything. Every high, every low, every moment where I thought I couldn’t keep going, you reminded me why I do this. You screamed these lyrics like battle cries, like prayers, like you knew—you understood me in ways I didn’t even understand myself. You defended me when I couldn’t defend myself. You stood by me when the world pulled me apart. And now, we stand here together. I hope you know that this isn’t just my award—this is yours. Because without you, I don’t know if I would’ve made it here,”. 

You pause for a moment, eyes searching the crowd until they find him—Joe. Standing there, his eyes glistening, his hand swiping at his cheek, trying to hide the tears that he can't quite contain. But even through the emotion, his smile is wide, brighter than anything in the room, and it’s like the world fades away when you look at him

You’ve never talked about him like this before—not on a stage like this. Not in front of the world. But here, now, it feels like the right time. The moment feels like it’s meant to be.

Here we go.

“...And Joe…oh, god, Joe,” you laugh through the tears, a smile forming on your lips again as you make eye contact with him. You see his face soften immediately, his hand swiping at his cheek, but the proud, teary smile never fades. His eyes glisten, and you swear you see a flicker of disbelief behind them—like he can’t quite believe this is real, but it’s happening.

“You just waltzed into my life with those signature Cartier shades on your face, looking like the coolest guy in the room, with that grin of yours that’s practically been trademarked by now, and that Joe-Cool persona that’s become a part of you over the years,” you laughed, watching him tip his head back slightly, the familiar chuckle that only he could pull off escaping from his lips. “You came into my life when I honestly didn’t even know if I had one left,”. You paused for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Joe’s eyes softened as they always did when you got emotional, his hand brushing across his jaw like he was trying to hide the way his heart was swelling at every word. “When I thought love was just another lie, when I didn’t trust anyone, especially myself. And you didn’t try to fix me, you didn’t try to change me—you just stayed. You let me fall apart, and then you showed me I didn’t have to stay broken. I will forever appreciate you for that. These past few months with you have been everything I could have ever wanted, filled with so much love, and happiness, and so much carefree energy. Energy that I never knew I needed. You’re the first person to hear every song now, the one who sits on the floor with me at 3 a.m. because I have an itch to scratch and you want to be a part of it, who listens to every rough demo, every messy lyric idea, and somehow, you make me feel like every single thing I create is magic, even if it’s unserious and deliriously written,” you chuckle, the audience laughing along with you, some of them even having their hands over their hearts because of the way you were speaking about him.

“You changed my world the second you walked into it, like literally,” you smiled, remembering the night at the white party, the way he had looked at you with that easygoing grin, as if you were the only person in the room. “You told me I didn’t need to be perfect, like that silly football joke you cracked when we first met. You said, ‘I might throw a perfect pass on the field, but I’m still trying to figure out how to land a date without fumbling the ball’,” you laughed, the memory so clear, his voice, his playfulness, like it was yesterday.

He chuckled softly, nodding at the memory. That goofy, endearing smile that always had the power to light up the room. “You were so wrong, you know,” you teased him gently, “You didn't need to throw any passes. You already had me from the moment you looked at me,”.

You continued, looking at him, your heart swelling. “You made me believe in myself again, in us. And I will spend every single day for the rest of my life thanking you for that. Everything you touch is filled with love, with light, with joy—and I love you more than I could ever find the words to say,”. Joe’s eyes softened at your words, his gaze full of warmth. You could feel his heart in every look, in the way he just was with you, always there. “You know, I’ve got a lot more to say about you...but I think some things are better kept in the music, don’t you think?” you winked, giving him a subtle nod, knowing how much he loved those little secrets. The clear allusion to your next album sends waves of murmurs throughout the audience. 

“I think the next chapter will be something special,” you added, a smile creeping onto your lips as you imagined what the future would hold, “And I can’t wait to share it with you. You are everything I never knew I needed, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for. Thank you…thank you for loving me the way you do,” you finished, feeling the weight of your love for him in the air between you both. And in that moment, it wasn’t the award, the spotlight, or the applause that mattered most. It was him. Always him.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing, but this time, from a place of defiance. “And to the people who doubted me, who called me an industry plant, a one-hit wonder, who said I was only here because of someone else…oops,” you smirk, holding up the trophy as the crowd cheers once again. The specific dig aimed at the haters, the media, and even your former record label, lands with the perfect blend of sweet satisfaction.

You took a final deep breath, your gaze sweeping over the crowd. The applause was still rippling through the room, but now, you felt something deeper—something that had been building for months. “This album, this moment, everything—it's been a journey. A journey through heartbreak, through self-doubt, through finding myself again. I disappeared for a while, didn't I? I had to. To heal. To rediscover what I wanted to say. And it wasn’t easy. But sometimes, you have to step away to step into your truth,” you paused, your voice trembling slightly but filled with conviction.

“I’ve learned that growth comes from the toughest moments. The ones that break you open. The ones that hurt the most. And you know what? I wouldn’t change a thing. Every tear, every sleepless night, every song written in the dark, it all led me here, to you. To this stage. To this award. To a place where I can finally say, ‘I’m not afraid to be myself anymore’,”.

You smiled, your heart swelling with pride and something else, something new. “This album is a reflection of everything I've been through—the heartbreak, the lies, the lessons I never wanted to learn. It’s a journey from confusion and denial, through the painful realization of what was lost, to finally finding the strength to walk away. It’s about facing the truth, no matter how hard it is, and finding a way to rise from it,”.

The crowd cheered, and you raised the trophy slightly, a subtle nod to the story you'd just shared. “But…if you think this is the end? Well, you’ve got another thing coming,” you grinned, knowing exactly what that meant, knowing what was waiting to be unleashed.

“Because just like any great story, there's always more to tell. And trust me, the next chapter is going to be...unforgettable,” your voice dropped slightly, the weight of what you were hinting at sinking in. “I’ve shed my skin. Now it’s time for you to see who I really am,”. you smirked, the audience was on edge, eager for what was to come. After that, you winked and blew a kiss into the air, stepping back from the mic. “Thank you so much for this award! I’ll see you soon,”.

And just like that, you left them wanting more.

The second you step off the stage, the world behind you simply fades away. Joe’s hands are already around you, pulling you into a tight, all-encompassing hug that nearly makes you fall back. It’s not about the flashing lights, the cameras, or the millions of people still watching from their screens—it’s just the two of you in this moment, and that’s all that matters. His warmth floods through you, grounding you, making everything feel real as he sways you back and forth. “I am so damn proud of you,” he murmurs into your hair, voice laced with emotion, as if every word is a weight he’s been carrying since she walked out there. “You fucking killed it, baby. Congratulations,”. 

This was like your Super Bowl, and this was the moment when the significant other would rush on the field to congratulate the champion. He was congratulating his champion. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the tears rise again, even though you thought you’d run out. You exhale shakily against his chest, clutching the award like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. “Did that really happen, Joe?” you ask him, threading your fingers through his hair, your voice soft and shaky, asking him as if you weren’t the one out there just now. 

Joe pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his hands coming to your face, like he needs to hold you still, to savor every second of this. His thumbs gently brush away the stray tears on your cheeks, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. “Hell yeah, it did. Believe it,” he says, his voice quiet and firm. “No one deserves this more than you, Y/N. You worked so hard for this,”.

The satisfaction in his eyes makes your chest tighten, and you can’t help but smile through the tears. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like you’re finally home. He’s not just proud of you; he’s in awe of you. And you can feel it in every touch, every look. You’ve always known he’s your biggest fan, but hearing it from him, seeing it reflected in his gaze—it makes everything worth it. You laugh softly, still catching your breath. “I…thank you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. “You’ve been with me through everything. And I just…I can’t believe you’re here, with me, in this moment,”.

Joe’s smile softens, his forehead coming to rest against yours for a brief second. “I’m always here,” he murmurs, like he’s trying to make you believe it’s true, even though you already know. Then, he smirks, rubbing his hand along the curve of your hip, each press of his fingers sending a jolt of heat through your frame. “Also…that speech?”.

You giggle through your tears, wiping your eyes as you shake your head. “Too much?”.

“Too much?” he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Baby, you just torched the place. Hit every topic, addressed everyone you needed to, and hit ‘em where it most definitely would hurt,” his laugh bubbles up from deep in his chest, pure joy in the sound. “That ‘oops’ line? You were perfect. I love this version of you,”.

You can’t stop the blush that creeps up your neck, a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Good,” you tease, leaning into his chest, finally letting the tears fall freely. “I’m glad it wasn’t too much. I just had to let them know…,”.

Joe laughs softly, but there’s something in his gaze that makes your heart flutter. He’s always been so humble, but when it comes to you, he has this way of holding you with such admiration, like you’re everything he’s ever wanted. And in this moment, you know that’s how he sees you. Always.

“You were perfect, baby,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible as his hands cradle your face. His gaze holds yours, soft but filled with that familiar heat you’ve never been able to get enough of. “You know I don’t care about anything else, right? The trophies, the lights, the cameras…none of that matters. I just want you. And I’m so damn proud of you. Of us. I know it wasn’t easy for you to do this, to do this with me, but you did it anyway and for that, I say thank you. Thank you for trusting me, for letting me in, for letting me love you,”.

You lean into his touch, letting yourself get lost in him for a second because in his arms, you don’t need to pretend. You don’t have to hold it together. Here, with him, it’s just love—raw, real, and safe. “I love you,” you whisper against his chest, pressing a kiss to his neck, your voice barely more than a breath. “I love you so much, Joey,”.

Joe’s smile is soft, his lips brushing against your forehead as he presses a lingering kiss there. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. I’m so proud of you,”. Your eyes fill with a new wave of emotion as you step back slightly to look at him. His eyes are so full of love, so tender, and you know that in this world of chaos, the spotlight, and the noise, there is no one else you’d rather have by your side. “Let’s get you out of here,” Joe says softly, pulling you back to him with easy confidence. “Celebrate properly,”.

You smirk, arching a playful brow as you run your hands along his clothed chest, “And by celebrate, you mean?”.

Joe grins, his playful glint never leaving his eyes. “You’ll see,” he teases, leaning in for another kiss, just enough to remind you of how real this love is. He pulls back just a little, his hand resting on your waist, keeping you close. “Trust me, it’s going to be our kind of celebration,”.

And with that, you realize it’s one of those rare moments—etched into your memory, a quiet but monumental piece of your shared journey. A moment that’s entirely yours, carved out amidst everything else. It’s not about the awards or the albums or the headlines. It’s about what you’ve fought for, what you’ve built together, and the future that’s still unfolding. 

As Joe’s hand wraps around yours, pulling you close, you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude. This, this is everything—the foundation of your love, the strength of your bond, the unwavering support you offer each other. No spotlight, no accolades, no applause could ever compare to the certainty that you’re in this together, through it all. And as you walk side by side, you know that this—the quiet moments, the connection, the love—is what truly matters.

And the best part? This was only just beginning.

—To be Continued—

stay tuned for part 2!

you are in love: big reputations part 1 (social media fic follow up)

[potatomountain]

C:IU CH 2

Chapter Two

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Pairing: Poly 0t8 Ateez x fem reader AU: Mafia/detective Genre: 18+ poly romance, action Word Count: 3.5k Summary: "Bigger Steps" Warnings: 18+, mentions of rpe/assault, poor coping skills, mentions of mrder, some suggestive, a lot of recap of book 1 AN: Dividers and banner made by me @potatographics. Usual beta readers tagged in masterlist! No editing done!

Mingi held you for several moments even when you were calm, but you also made no attempt to leave his embrace either. The two of you probably would have continued the embrace if there wasn’t an interruption.

Above you footsteps were heard, and then someone clears their throat. Peering over Mingi’s shoulder you spotted Jongho standing there in a casual outfit of black slacks, leather jacket and an almost sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry to interrupt, Darling, but Yeosang was growing worried.” Ah, of course the techie was watching. Always watching.

“Do you want me to carry you?” Mingi immediately offered just for you to climb off his lap.

Still a bit flustered from Jongho’s newest pet name for you, something he had only called you on a handful of occasions over the last few weeks, you tried to play it off cool. “No- no we can head up.”

The two of them flanked you in silent agreement, staying one step behind that almost made you feel like you were the one in charge. If you were in a better mood you might make a joke about it. Instead you were silent as you took the stairs up to the next floor, stepping into the shared home of the Black Pirates to find the remaining six scattered about.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were the first two that caught your attention, both talking with Minjae who, as far as ranking goes, was just under the 8 pirates. He was the one giving direct orders to the others in most face to face situations, and if a meeting was to take place, it was usually him that was sent. He had his own pick of men that worked closely with them, as second-hand to the pirates themselves.

It was the outfits of the two mafia head’s that had your attention. Seonghwa was wearing a fashionable jean top with a leather cape draped over the shoulders in the front and dangling in the back. It matched the leather pants, leather gloves and boots. Leather seemed to be a theme, as Hongjoong had some elements himself. Leather jacket over a loose white shirt with some pieces of lace that dangled off with light blue jeans, ripped around the knee. His leather cap was pulled at an angle to hide his eyes with the slightest tilt of his chin down. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you though neither he nor Seonghwa paused in their conversation to acknowledge you, probably because only Hongjoong did notice your presence.

Mingi stepped away which drew your attention back to him, taking note he was now pulling on a black leather vest over the white button up he wore, which Yeosang had just given to him. His hair was red now, the realization striking you with guilt. When did he change it? Why didn’t you know about it?

Are you even someone he would tell about such changes when they’re made? 

The thought made the guilt heavier, which weighed more at the sight of Yunho stepping behind the two as he pulled on a leather trench coat over a black turtleneck. His hair was now a metallic blue, his makeup done and frameless glasses sitting on his nose. The jeans took away from the sheer intimidation of the outfit, just for you to notice metal like claws on his fingertips when he pushed the glasses up.

Wooyoung no longer had blonde in his hair, both his and Seonghwa’s hair was much longer than you remember even, but Wooyoung, Yeosang, and San were more casual outfits lacking the leather.

Something was up, and none of them were addressing you. Not even San and Wooyoung who were in the kitchen looking over some papers and pictures. Even Jongho stepped away to make himself comfortable on the couch.

For some reason… it hurt.

Three months since you had seen most of them, let alone all at once, and none of them were looking at you.

Your concerns over how to face them felt futile now, unfamiliar emotions and doubts weighing in your chest instead. Annoyance bubbling among them. Clearing your throat, you demanded an explanation at least. “Why am I here?”

Now it seemed like too much attention, all nine eyes were on you, a few gazes dipped down briefly, just to avoid you all together. Tension had your back straightening, as if you were standing on the edge of a knife.

“We have a meeting with the Green Vipers tonight. As a Pirate, you need to be a part of this.” Hongjoong’s voice rang out, steady and calm, cutting through the tension that was growing.

Tension that, you realized, was not at all because of you. “Should I change?”

“Yes please before I pop a boner.” Wooyoung blurted out, explaining why he suddenly found the back of Jongho’s head oh so interesting.

“Because that’s what she needs right now, a horny simp.” Jongho drawled out, not even glancing back at him.

The way you flinched unintentionally you know was noticed just from the way the tension felt thicker in the air.

With a sigh, Hongjoong dismissed Minjae before finally turning his full attention your way. “You have two options. Stay here with Yeosang and San and observe the meeting behind a screen, or come with us. I will not have you coming along if you feel like you cannot handle it.”

“I can.”

“No.” Hongjoong stared you down, a harshness to it that poked at your vulnerability. “You can’t.”

“Joong-”

“She needs to hear it, Hwa.” The shorter man cut off the other, taking a step closer and peering at you under the brim. “As your lover- if I can even call myself that right now- I want to give you all the time you need to work through what happened and heal properly. But as your boss, as the head of this organization you willingly joined, I cannot. I know you are aware of it, how badly this is affecting your work. Haru won’t say anything, she’s soft on you because of Wooyoung but she’s expressed concerns.”

His words felt like perfectly aimed blows but no retort could be formed in your mind. He was right. He was so fucking right but it hurt.

Of course he could see that it did, softening as he took a few more steps closer. “Firecracker… you need to stop this. If not for us, for yourself.”

It felt like an intervention, all eyes on you but no one speaking up in your defense. Not even Seonghwa had spoken another word. They all agreed, and you didn’t fault them.

You had been handling it so poorly, but how does someone get over what happened? How do you move on from it? How do you stop seeing it, feeling it?

It had been entirely selfish and reckless of you to agree to join when you knew you were in no position to actually do the job properly. Selfish of you to leave, to distance yourself after agreeing to be theirs- asking to be. Ignoring these emotions, the triggers, and them, like a fucking coward.

“I’m not a coward.” You mumbled it to yourself, but those nearest to you heard.

“No one is saying you are.” Mingi’s deep voice rumbled from your right, reaching up just to halt when you flinched at the sudden intrusion into your space. “Captain is pointing out that this way you have been coping is failing, both you and us, and it’s time to try something different.”

“I-”

“Do you think anyone knows how to recover from that?” Yunho now interrupted, staring you down over Mingi’s shoulder. “Doing it alone isn’t working. You willingly agreed to be a Pirate, to be ours, just to immediately detach yourself. We do things together, Butterfly. Meaning we are here for you to lean on. We want you to.” There were a few hums of agreement that followed

With a deep breath, you met his gaze. Then Mingi’s and finally Hongjoong’s. “Okay. Okay you’re right. I was… avoiding it. All of it. But I still want to be of help, Captain.”

“You can be, just not in the field, at least not for this. Go change, we have a bit before we have to leave and since you won’t be ignoring us anymore there are some things we need to fill you up on.” Hongjoong ordered, sending you away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Taking it as the order it was, you headed upstairs, immediately searching for the small bin of clothes that was given you when you had first stayed here.

Meanwhile, the tension was still just as thick downstairs.

The moment the door had shut, San was grabbing Hongjoong by the shirt. “What the fuck Captain?”

The man’s expression lacked surprise, a tell he knew San would act this way. “It took the same for you San, don’t act like that.”

“I had more time!”

“You also suffered for three years!” Hongjoong immediately spat out. “And not during crucial points in our operations nor were you as involved as she is. So drop it.”

“Sannie…” Wooyoung gently peeled the man off of him, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “She needs this okay? You know that.” The man’s glare softened, malice gone by the time he met Wooyoung’s gaze. “She’s different from me. And what she went through isn’t any less than what I did. We don’t rank trauma.”

“I know, baby. I know. You want to just stand by her side until she’s ready. I wish we could. You know I do.” He pulled San against him, letting the bigger man melt in his embrace.

Yunho stepped up, rubbing his large hand between San’s shoulder blades as he spoke not just to him, but the others. Seonghwa and Yeosang appeared rather guilty, watching the door to the master bedroom longingly and it wasn’t unnoticed. “But we can’t ignore how it’s hurting us all, and the Pirates, so we have to do something. She’s not going through this alone, she’s one of us now.” He didn’t need to go into details, they all felt your pain. They all were hurt by the way you pushed them aside, ignoring them.

They cared for you, and they knew it was mutual, but this was more than just trying to cope with what happened. You hadn’t been ready, not for this. To be with them, to be a part of this organization. Granted it would have been easier if it was just your trust they had to win over, but now it was much more than that. And during such a crucial time, as Hongjoong pointed out, they couldn’t afford to wait for you.

That was perhaps what hurt the most.

They wanted you here, with them, but they couldn’t wait for you to be ready. Something had to change.

By the time you came back down, wearing someone’s jeans and by the looks of it Mingi’s oversized shirt half tucked in, the others had calmed down. San was still leaning against Wooyoung, both now sitting on the couch holding hands, while Yunho sat next to San with his arm thrown over the back and resting on Wooyoung’s free shoulder. The taller man noticed the way your eyes took them in, tilting his head and meeting your gaze with a challenge there. 

To say something. To challenge him back. To incite the banter the two of you had before it all went to shit.

But you were quiet, taking the open seat by Mingi and Jongho, Seonghwa now standing next to Yeosang while Hongjoong cleared his throat and demanded all attention. “A recap then.”

There were nods and hums in agreement.

“We were honestly just running business normally until your little suggestion, Firecracker.” Hongjoong started, looking right at you. “About pitting two of them against each other. The easiest targets were the Vipers and the wolves but- we might have jumped the gun.”

“We didn’t realize the Vipers would involve San in a turf war.” Wooyoung threw out. “They didn’t, at first, but part of the contract we loosely signed was San was hired muscle, for the fights mostly but they weaseled in a sub-contract of back-up muscle in emergencies. And while we could back out and risk San getting beat nearly to death- we'd lose the connections we made.”

“Wait… you said my suggestion?” 

Hongjoong nodded when he met your curious gaze, but Seonghwa was the one who answered. “When we asked you what you would do, you said you'd get them to take each other out. So we had Yunho and Mingi plant some drugs and evidence that the Vipers had been encroaching on Wolf territory. Both are hot headed enough to punch first and ask questions later.”

You could remember the praise Seonghwa had given you that day, then the way he had left you to defend yourself from San who enjoyed teasing you. Had he immediately gone to talk to Hongjoong about it? Did they really value your ideas to that extent? Hongjoong had asked you about what to do back in the gym before you sucked him off, and later you had found out that the Vipers did get help.

They listened to you. Before you were even part of their organization.

“I… see.” The realization was enough to relax you, a smile tugging on the corner of your lips but you pushed it back. You could express your feelings for that another time, right now was business first. “So the Wolves took the bait and retaliated, the back and forth started.” You asked to confirm, looking at Hongjoong specifically to keep yourself calm.

The leader nodded, crossing his arms over his chest as his weight shifted. “Yes, and the wolves probably would have taken a good deal of the men out. We suspected the Guardians were already working behind the lines to contain the Wolves however, as the damage should have been worse.”

At that your eyes immediately glanced at San, concern pushing your brows together. Did that mean you had gotten a lot closer to losing him than you had thought? That didn’t sit right with you at all, especially when the man avoided your gaze as if he could read your thoughts. You never did find out what injuries he would suffer to be put on bed rest.

“Then there was the kidnapping situation.” The second the words were out of his mouth, the tension grew unbearably thick again, chin tilted down but he was gazing up at you with some concern. You didn’t have to look at the others to know they had similar expressions.

Right, you had been so adamant to avoid those days that you never bothered to ask why, and neither had they. Even now you didn’t want to think about it.

Hongjoong was so right, you couldn’t handle it.

But you wanted to. Fuck did you want. In this moment you needed to be able to handle it, to hear what was being said, the events that lead up to this meeting. You needed to know all the context if you were going to be any help. “So… what was that about?”

Mingi turned his hand palm up and rested it on his thigh, an open invitation for comfort- one you took. This was the first chance to show you could face it, that you wouldn’t keep running away, wouldn’t keep hurting them or hindering them by the way you were handling it. 

“Well- we believe they realized Yunho and Mingi were the ones who planted the evidence. Which, the safe house you had been in was the one they were operating out of at the time. We hadn’t used it again until we brought you there, I think they had been watching it.” Hongjoong said it slowly, eyes searching your face for any signs of panic or triggers.

Ah right, the safe house they were going to interrogate you after you pulled a gun on Hwa and- fuck, you hadn’t thought about that night or unpacked any of it. The way Yunho had looked pinning you down, the gun in his mouth and wild excitement in his eyes-

With a shiver your eyes met his, as if he was thinking the same thing. You hadn’t even begun to scratch at the surface of how that made you feel, the excitement of it all that was so quickly ripped away from you in the following days.

“Their questioning backed up that they had little information, just knew who the safe house belonged to. They didn’t know our ranks, names, didn’t know your connection.” Seonghwa continued softly, a tremble in his voice that shocked you. “We’re sure that they only… did what happened to you because that fucker was sick and twisted and made a guess.” Not even he could put a name, call it what it was.

“So he raped and beat me for three days for fun??” You felt like the wind had been knocked out of your chest, squeezing Mingi’s hand as your throat felt hot from bile wanting to rise.

The slightest of nods from Seonghwa was another punch to your lungs.

Part of you already knew that, you heard what some of the red wolves had said before, the way they treated the Boas on the street. You had to help Handong with a few of the women, but when they looked bad, you ran.

A pathetic habit you developed.

You tried to quell that urge now, shutting your eyes and counting down from ten while focusing on the grounding grip of Mingi’s. It was easier with his hand there, hearing them right by you. Why did you think it was such a good idea to leave?

Fear. Fear made it feel like your only choice.

“Which he paid the price for.” Hongjoong’s tone was dark as he finally spoke, at least waiting until your breathing wasn’t so pained. “They all will. We thought about it after that, especially since we as the Pirates had worked with the Vipers to steal some wolf territory. We’ve been in talks since the bloodshed had died down but there is some serious rivalry between the two now.”

“The Vipers aren’t stupid though. After the casualties and the debt they wracked up for help from us and the Guardians, they can’t function properly anymore. So-” Yunho jumped into the conversation, sharing a look with the two older men before the three stood up. “Tonight we have a meeting with the head’s of the Vipers to discuss a merger of sorts.”

Your eyes went wide, realizing now just how important this was. A merger? Really?

It would increase their territory, double their man power, and with a little investment would double income. It also brought them closer to Red Wolf territory; whether that was a good thing or bad was yet to be determined.

Reluctantly, Jongho and Mingi stood up next to you, leaving you alone on the couch. Only Wooyoung, San and Yeosang stayed where they were. “The meeting is in an hour, we have to head out. Your job tonight is to help Yeosang with monitoring as he’s made sure he has access to the location. You’ll be able to hear what is said, and if anything sounds off to you, we want to hear it.”

“We can go over everything with you Goddess.” Wooyoung reassured you when Yunho looked his way to pick up where he left off. “We wrote down our own demands and goals so you can follow along and all that too.”

With a nod, you didn’t reply further. As the others readied themself, once more debriefing and checking their equipment, you stared down at your lap, processing all this new information. You said goodbye to the five, taking note that half of them were there for intimidation more than anything, but wondered idly how the Vipers would react to the more fashionable outfits of the two leaders, entirely different than what you expect of a crime lords.

But that was part of the reason they had such outfits, wasn’t it? As if they needed to look the part of crime lords, you knew damn well they were capable of getting their point across. At least, you saw with your own eyes what two of them could do, even if you had been too shaken to take notice. There was no need to worry about them, not against the Vipers.

The Red Wolves though?

“Sweetcheeks? Are you ready?” San was kneeling before you, brows furrowed.

“I… one question though, Sannie.”

“Ask away.” You were sure that they weren’t going to just stop with the Vipers, the Pirates had their hands in all the families so… ultimate power over the crime world? Or at least, a majority of it? Meaning each family would have to be dealt with in one way or another.

“The Wolves… they’re going to be destroyed right?”

His eyes widened at the tremble in your voice, only to nod quickly, determination settling on his features. “Every single one of them, baby.”

A sense of relief washed over you, no remorse for the bastards who found it fun to destroy people the way they destroyed you. “Good.”

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[electraslight]

hello! inquiring minds want to know about your thoughts on gus. in particular the mask w the third eye + the third eye you drew him with a couple times. i've always been a little disappointed with how little the show expanded on the stuff we saw in e.g. labyrinth runners and you always have interesting things to say (or make up on the spot :P) about your designs ^^

i love gus!! hes so charming and basically every episode with a gus subplot is good. the stuff about the illusionists graveyard and gus protecting it is really cool and gets me thinking about how much gus knows about magical artifacts (he should be a historian not a teacher when hes older imo) and labyrinth runners is one of my favorite episodes. i think the specific way hunter and gus connect is really well written and i wish wed seen them interact more after that (but i just generally very much enjoy their friendship). I think people often talk about gus as if it was hunter specifically that 'stole' his screentime but like, are we forgetting gus and willow were barely used in favor of episodes trying to teach a 5 year old child concepts hes too young for lol. season one was so poorly paced in comparison to s2 that yeah, i dont think it was hunter that took from gus specifically. you could say the same thing about amity

I do however think willow's very shoehorned 'arc' in s3 would have fit way better with gus, who has 1. forced himself to keep up a peppy attitude and uplift everyone else even though hes terrified for his dad and also is like. 12. 2. has been known to have intense involuntary magic outbursts that can sometimes induce flashbacks of your worst moments ever, and 3. you can still do the thing where hunter talks them down bc like. theyve done this before. like i feel like honestly willow had completed her arc in season 2 and after that most willow stuff was her trying to convince everyone else she was better now. I have a lot of issues with how huntlow kind of erased willow and gus's friendship too, which i always though was rlly cute, but again i digress

back to my gus design, the 'third eye' is facepaint like willow or amity's markings, but while hes using his powers it can appear to move around. hes not pictured with the mask here but he has a set of comedy and tradgedy masks (the blight twins have this insignia too but i havent drawn them casually yet) Gus has satyr blood (his grandparent was one of the last satyrs to interact with witches before they left to live in the forest after their lifestyle was no longer supported. God damn it belos) so his ears are bigger than other witches and hes very short.

anyway. i like gus a normal amount. thanks for asking!

[hybbart]

Hey guys, I would really appreciate it if you stopped sending me messages about Lizzie's appearance. I get that most of you are just happy and/or think it's a compliment, but I've literally never had so many weird comments on a woman's body before, and it's getting really uncomfortable.

While I know I'm not always as good about it for men, as a character artist and as I hope is made clear in the design sheet I did for all the hermit and empire girls, I have always and will always draw all sorts of body types. That includes not just fat people, but fat people with different distributions and shape language- different everything. Lizzie and Cleo and Stress may all be fat and round but I like to think I did a very good job of making them all distinct in shape from each other in a way that converys their character.

I redesigned my Lizzie recently because I was wanting to draw her more, and I wanted her to allign better with my mental idea of her. She hadn't before because 1) I started off drawing her as the ocean queen and mayor who are very unlike her base self and monstrous, because she's cool like that. And 2) I never sat down and made a design sheet for her, so I constantly drew her differently and mixed her up with my Gem design. (which, go firgure, as a fan of sister characters, when I finally worked it out that mental idea ended up having a body type similar to my own little sister. Which makes it extra uncomfortable on a personal level.)

The fact is, when I draw women people casually comment on their body a LOT more, which is already a bit uncomfortable- and baffling, given that most of my sexualized pictures are of men. I get similar comments about how tall Pearl is, I've probably gotten more comments about how tall Pearl is than I have about how tall Jimmy is, and I draw him multiple times a week. But those comments are often at least done with a bit of amusement and not just straight up ogling her.

Every single time I've drawn Lizzie recently, though, I got an absolute flood of comments specifically talking about her body and nothing else. How fat she is, how attractive she is because she's fat, cat calls, and other more unsavoury language. Even backhanded compliments. I certainly didn't try to make her ugly, but I've not drawn her in pinups. She's doing the exact same things as every other character I draw, including herself before my redesign. And given that timing and VERY pointed nature of the comments, it's not exact rocket science.

Most of the comments haven't been too gross, thankfully. I'll chalk that up to a lot of the messages being people projecting onto her, which- that's a whole different can of discomfort worms. But it is constant and it is in place of literally anything else. I draw a whole comic about a funny moment with multiple people, and art I'm pretty happy with, and the only thing a dozen asks have to say is "Lizzie's fat!!🤤" which stands in quite the contrast to all the comparatively few comments about Jimmy being about how I drew his banana costume.

Anyways, what I'm asking is to please just be a bit more normal about women's bodies. I get that it's rarer, and it makes some people happy when they see characters like them, but focusing on how beautiful an unconventional woman is is still objectifying and making that woman's beauty her worth.

[existentialcrisis-9-5]

DCA Subnautica AU

Version #2 of the designs, including the bioluminescence! + fun tidbits on each of the goobers and a visual on Y/N!

(Edit: it’s out now! Check my bio for the link)

Eclipse is up first!

Theirs was the first design I drew out in any detail (as shown in the crude MS Paint drawing), so it's the one that needed the most work. Even after making the more detailed version with the lights, I still ended up changing things as I got a better grasp on what direction I wanted to head in. Fun lore tidbit! Eclipse is a freak of nature and should not look like that! They're properly split down the middle between day and night. Also I messed it up in the drawing because I was tired when I made it, but they're also covered in scars and bite marks.

Sun !!

I did Sun next, and here I had a better idea for what I was going for. There were still a few problems with this design though, which got changed. This is also where I started drawing the pattern on the tail, which I felt looked weird in this picture. Fun tidbit! Sun has an inability to express his feelings in the appropriate fish mermaid way, leading to much confusion.

Moon !!

Moon was done last. Once again, I learned from this drawing and changed Moon's design to match, however Moon is the one that remains the most unchanged! I knew what I was going for by the time I got to him each time, so I guess that helped. Something I did alter, however, were some of the lights. I found that they either blended together too much or weren't as visible as I would have liked. Fun tidbit! This is pose actually based on a scene in one of the chapters. It was actually one of the earliest written scenes.

Y/N, my beloved <3

I did 2 versions of Y/N, one with longer hair and one with shorter. It was important for me, when writing the story, that I kept the person I'm imagining as vague as possible, with the only physical descriptions being "physically fit" and having a few scars (for plot reasons), so this is only for me and whatever drawings I do. As a result of trying to keep it vague, I ended up going with the shorter hair (though in the final reference I made it a bit longer than shown here). Fun tidbit! The green is because whenever I'm sketching, I have 4 colours I sketch in to differentiate parts of the picture (usually background vs foreground or different people), and green was the one I used here (red, blue and purple were taken, I'm sure you can understand why). It ended up sticking, since I didn't want to go with the orange that's on Ryley's suit in order to avoid possible confusion.

That's it for now! At some point, I'll post the full references for each of them, but until then, the next thing I post will probably be chapter 1!

[quilly72]

"And don't even think about doing anything sexual while on these pills... Okay?. .. I need to know that you understand me. These pills are still in tesfing and reports of sexual acts while on this medication have led to... Adverse effects. "

Liz smiled as her doctor continued blabbering on about these new hormone pills she was to go on. She smiled and nodded as she imagined how much better off she would be with these pills. Her fertility would double, her estrogen levels would hop up, and she would feel more feminine.

It was a bit weird however to not orgasm while under their effects however given they were strictly marketed towards making sex more fun and increasing sexual energy.

The doctor stared at her till she snapped back to him. "Did you hear what I said"

"yeah, yeah no sex no nothing... Abstinence only just like my school taught me"

The doctor cupped the pills into her hand "1 a day and we see each other in a week to make sure nothing weird happens".

Liz took the pills and walked out as she made her goodbyes. Walking out to her car where she greedily flipped the bottle over and over again. "This will be fun" she chuckled.

Liz arrived home late as she brushed past her bf and into the bathroom. She slipped her cardigan and pants off as she pulled her shirt up revealing her undergarments. She snapped a picture as she sent it to her bf only a couple feet away. Be ready in 5 it read.

Liz smirked as she heard the chair fly back and footsteps heavily run past the bathroom and up the stairs.

She snickered as she reached into her pocket and put her clothes back on. She read the instructions "1 a day... Seems too little l, 2 or 3 won't hurt. " She popped 3 in her mouth as they sizzled on her tongue. Their sweet flavor washing over her tongue and throat as she exhaled.

She clutched her body as she felt it heat up in response. A soft coo leaving her lips as she braced herself against the sink counter. The effects hit her like a truck as she felt her pussy throb and ebb. Her mind clouded by impure thoughts as she rubbed herself through her jeans.

Lizi regathered herself as she opened the bathroom door and flew upstairs ready for her long awaited sexy time.

The door flung open as it banged against the wall. She stepped in hastily as the door rebounded shut behind her. She peered towards the bed her bf laying in. Wait his erection throbbing through his underwear. She crawled towards him leaning on the bed as she crept over him. Face to face she lowered herself down as she crept her hands downward to undo her pants button.

Her bf helped as he drew her shirt off her body and pulled her pants off. Liz lay down on him as her panties were lowered to expose herself.

The pleasure was instantaneous as she felt him enter her. Each thrust bringing her closer to orgasm as the pills did their work. Liz bit her tongue as she clutched his body and pulled taught. Gripping anything to brace herself. She struggled to breathe as she gasped for air in-between moans. "So... Good" she muttered

Liz contorted her face as the pleasure built her body folding to the heat and pleasure. "So close."

She eyed her bf who was also getting close to orgasm as she sped up her moaning. Her toes clenched as he leaned up. Her legs wrapping around his back as she sat on him. She whimpered as she felt her body tense up. The heat rapidly spreading across every inch of her skin. Her body vibrating in anticipation.

"I'm... Gonna... I'm getting close... I'm... CUMMING!"

Liz opened her mouth as she moaned outward her voice billowing throughout the room. Her eyes shut tight as she tried to hold the pleasure in just a bit longer. As she orgasmed. Her body tensed up and seemed to stretch out as if she had just grown. Her panties and bra feeling tighter as she folded on top of him as he shot out into her.

His cum shooting inside of her as her eyes shot open. Something was off but she couldn't quite place it. Her bf fell back as she landed on him. Their heads brushing each other as he drowned in her hair. She sat up his dick still in her as she felt her body tense up. "What is happening... Why do I feel so weir..."

Liz shot up. Her eyesight stretching upwards as she grew. Her boobs bulged over her bra as she clutched her chest. A coo leaving her body as she yelped. Her panties tore slightly as her butt stretched out. Her legs slithering across the bedsheets as she sat up on the bed.

Her bf stared up at her wideyed. "What was that" he immediately started getting hard again inside of her as he throbbed.

Liz folded downwards, collapsing on him as her body felt a wave of pleasure fall on her. His dick pleasuring her as he grew inside of her. Liz moaned and bit her lip as she tried to hold it back. "Feels... So good"

Her body heated up as he continued to lengthen on her. Wave after wave hitting her as she clenched her body. "Can't stop.... I'm gonna... GrOooOw"

Liz shot up again. Her back stretching as her bra strained against her body. Hugging her chest tightly as her panties ripped off of her. Her eyes darted around the room as she tried to adjust herself to her new height. Even sitting on the bed she had to be atleast a foot taller than she had been.

She leaned forward as she exhaled and focused on breathing. Her body swaying from the exertion. She clutched the bed tightly as she looked down at her bf lost in pleasure

"look at me HEY look at me" his eyes snapped to her "I think I'm growing and I need you to focus"

"no shit your growing... Your smothering me"

Liz looked down to see her butt enveloping his legs. His blood flow likely having been cut off. She tried to raise herself up as she felt his dick twitch in the movement. They both clenched their faces as they felt the pleasure grow. Wave after wave of pleasure shot off in her ody as she tensed up again. Her eyes clasped shut as she gritted her teeth. "NoooOOoo" she moaned.

She stretched upwards as she grew. Her feet inching off the bed as she grew further. Her head soaring past his as her boobs going above him. Her bra snapped off on his face as he grimaced. "Can't hold it" his dick heated up as he dare not move a muscle the heat building up as she throbbed and grew on top of him. Her weight smothering him as she hit 7 ft tall.

Liz peered. Down at him as she bent her head forward to see him. "Don't do it." She pleaded. "I'm not sure how much worse this will get.. or if I can stop."

Her bf barely listened as he clenched the bed his teeth gritting. His dick throbbing for release. Liz tried to move herself again. But every movement sent more pleasure through her body and her bf closer to failure. " I can't keep growing... Please" she pleaded. Her body tightened as wave after wave hit her again. She exhaled as her body spasmed for release. Her bf straining himself blue as he struggled. "Almost there... I almost got it..."

Her bf moaned as his body relaxed. Liz felt a warm thick liquid spray inside her. "I'm sorry" he muttered. Liz flew off of him as she stood up. "What did you do to... Me..."

Her voice trailing off as she felt her body heat up. Her knees wobbled and her body spasmed as she leaned back on the wall. She braced herself against it as she began moaning. Her face clenched as her eyes shut again. Her entire body shaking as she felt her body radiate heat. "Oh my god... I'm cumming... Feels so good... I'm gonna groOOow.!"

Liz barely had time to react as her body sprang up. Her head denting the ceiling as she flew upwards. Her feet stretching across the carpet before she fell to her knees. Her bed being pushed aside as she grew against it. Her bf shot up as he rushed backwards. Liz continuing to stretch across the room. Her legs rubbing against the carpet as they slithered against it. Her spamming as she fell to all 4s "I can't stop... Go get the pills in the bathroom... CALL MY DOCTOR!"

Her bf flew out as he rushed downstairs.

Liz leaned back up as her head brushed the ceiling from a kneeling position. She fell to her haunches as she came down from her high.

She focused on breathing as her body tensed up again.

Her eyes shooting open wide as she felt her body heat up again. "No no no.. please stop." She held it back as she bit her lip again. Her eyes clasping shit as she gripped the carpet nearly ripping it off the floor. Her body shook in protest as it tried to lash out. She shook the entire room wobbling as the ground creaked underneath her. She moaned through gritted teeth as she shook. Her body begging for release. She heard her bf run up the stairs as her body released its energy.

Evenon all 4s her head and neck hit the ceiling. She yelped as she felt her head bend it back. She crouched down further as she stretched across the room. Her boobs billowing out as her feet pinned the door shut. Her bf pounded on it as he tried to push it open.

Liz tried to move but even the slightest movement sent pleasure throughout her body. Enough to where she lost strength in her arms. Her body crushing the bed as she fell on it. She tensed up again "oh no"

Liz lurched again. Her head bumping the outer wall as her butt bent the ceiling. "I'm running out of room"

Her feet bent the door till it snapped open her bf falling back as the pills flew everywhere. He picked up what he could as he saw several disappear underneath her growing legs. Crushing and turning to powder as they stick to her skin. Liz crammed herself in the room as she contorted her body. "What happened"

She heard her bf run away as she began trembling. Her body heating up. Liz cooed and moaned as her body tightened. Her body flexing and spasming. Every twitch sending a flurry of pleasure across her. She squirmed as her legs flew in the hallway knocking walls and furniture over. The floor groaned underneath as she made an o face her eyes shut tight. Her arms pinned under her as she struggled to brace herself.

"oh my gooood. It feels so... Fuuuuck... I'm gonna... I'm gonna... Cum"

Her body twitches as she released her pleasure. Her body immediately filling the room as the ground collapsed under her.

Her bf watched from outside as he popped a couple pills back down his throat. All he heard were primal moans as the house bent outward.

Meanwhile inside Liz wrestled her body as she outgrew room after room. Her moans of pleasure mixed in with pain as she grew further and further. Her body tensed up as. Boom

Her feet grew out the front. Her head braced against the attic as she bent it down "please no... Please"

Her body didn't listen her head soaring out of the house as she stared wide eyed outside. Her arms flung outside next as her boobs pushed out of the roof as well. Wave after wave hitting her until the house fell on her body. She stared out into the crowd that had formed as her bf ejaculated through his pants. His body lurching up to 8 ft tall as his clothes ripped off of him.

Liz rolled her eyes as she motioned for the pills. Those are for me"

Her body tensed up as she felt her body heat up. ":I guess I'm not done" she smirked as she felt her body lurch up again.

[peachesnplums95]

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Shadowpeach (+ Shadowpeach being parents to MK) incorrect quotes -because my gallbladder is probably trying to kill me, and I'm in pain and bored- Round 2: GO.

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WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

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Sun Wukong: I’m not lazy, I just find it hard to put effort into things I’m not passionate about.

Macaque: What are you passionate about?

Sun Wukong: Sleeping.

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Sun Wukong: Look at me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth, Macaque!

Macaque: You can’t expect me to look into your eyes and be straight.

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Macaque: You have to apologize to them Sun Wukong.

Sun Wukong: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

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Sun Wukong: Hey, wanna take a dip in the hotsprings with me?

Macaque: I have a shadow version of your staff hidden under the roots of our Peachtree. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it to my skull and kill me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

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Macaque: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me.

Sun Wukong: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do.

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Sun Wukong: How the hell are you still alive?

Macaque: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are. -This is what happened in Episode 9 of Season 1 when Wukong went to rescue MK and found Macaque attacking him.-

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Macaque: Wow, Sun Wukong, you want to hold my hand before marriage? How awfully lewd of you.

Sun Wukong: We literally slept together yesterday.

Macaque: That's NOTHING compared to the lewdness of holding hands.

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Macaque: Where are you going?

Sun Wukong: To either get peaches or commit a Holy felony. I'll decide on the way.

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Sun Wukong: MK, what does IDK, ILY, and TTYL mean?

MK: I don’t know, I love you, talk to you later.

Sun Wukong : Alright, I love you too, I'll ask Macaque.

MK: Wait- Sun Wukong , no-

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MK: Well, has Sun Wukong been wrong before?

Macaque: How wide are we willing to open this up?

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Sun Wukong: MK, what do you have?

MK: A KNIFE!

Sun Wukong: Okay, have fu-

Macaque: NO!

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MK: I just had a long talk with Macaque and Sun Wukong about hitting and now they are yelling “it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence” before hitting each other.

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Macaque: What do you think MK will do for a distraction?

Sun Wukong: He'll probably, like, scream 'here comes Monkie Kid' or throw my staff around. That's what I would do. I would scream 'here comes Monkey King' and throw my staff around.

Building explodes and several car alarms go off

Sun Wukong: …or they could do that.

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Sun Wukong: I have so much energy, I want to level a mountain or commit a crime… which should I do?

MK: Please don’t get arrested by Heaven.

Sun Wukong: No promises! <3

Macaque: Why not both? Get creative!

Sun Wukong: Wonderful suggestion, thank you.

MK: Please don’t encourage him, Macaque.

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MK: I will find us a covered wagon and horses. If you two can manage to not kill each other while I'm gone.

Sun Wukong: Oh, please. We're not children, bud.

MK leaves

Sun Wukong, casually: … Eat the end of my staff and die.

Macaque, also casually: Yes, fuck you.

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Sun Wukong: I hate you sometimes.

Macaque: Well according to this picture MK drew of us holding hands that's not true.

Sun Wukong: Macaque, you drew that.

Macaque: It doesn't matter.

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MK: Monkey King won’t wake up, what do I do?

Macaque: Did you try whacking him upside the head with your staff, Kid?

MK: Yes.

Macaque: I’m out of ideas.

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Sun Wukong: We're having a baby.

MK: Oh, congradu-

Macaque, slamming adoption papers onto the table: It's you, sign here.

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WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

WARNING SPICY/SUGGESTIVE LANGUAGE! DO NOT INTERACT IF UR NOT 18 OR OLDER!

[hobies-princealbert]

"you worry too much cariño" | boxer! miles 42 x reader

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

◇ you were with miles from the start. you saw his love for boxing from the first day yall met. you remember how he would rave about rocky and how his room was littered with cut out pictures of sugar ray, mayweather, muhammad and all the greats.

◇ you remember how he begged his uncle for years to become his trainer. how upset he got when he couldn't perfect his right hook. how sore his muscles got after an eight hour training day. how happy he was when he won his first match that he ran out the ring before the ref announced his victory, and grappled you into a bear hug. you both shed a couple of tears that night.

◇ you were his no.1 cheerleader. always by the ring with mrs. morales and uncle aaron cheering miles on. even if you don't know jackshit about boxing, one thing was certain miles was good. so good that by the time he was 18, he had been invited to compete in that national tournaments.

◇ but no matter how good he was, he would still get nervous. especially if the event drew in a big crowd. you were always there to give him a pep talk or smack the sense back into him, and tell him to get back in there and kick some ass.

"si señorita" he gave you quick kiss (and a pat on the ass for good luck ofc), and headed back into the arena.

◇ he loves when you practically nurse him back to health. whether he got a busted lip or a bruised cheek. best believe after every match, he would make his way back stage where he knew you would be waiting on him with a first aid kit handy.

"miles, you need to be more careful. look at you. your lips, god and your cheek, it's do swollen. don't gimme that look i'm serious look what that asshole did to you"

"cálmate mami, the guy's suppose to beat me up. es parte del trabajo bebe" he took the hand that you had resting on his shoulder and kissed the palm to further his assurance.

"hey if you don't want me to nag you, you can always go to med staff. you know the people who's job it is to do this," you pressed an alcohol pad on his lips which made him hiss a bit.

"you worry too much cariño. plus how am i suppose to get mi besos to me feel better huh?"

◇ miles is more than grateful for all the support you give him, so best believe he's gonna make sure your well taken care of. it's the least he could do for you after so many years of being his nurse, cheerleader and emotional support coach.

◇ the money he's makes from tournaments and sponsorships, he can surely afford to give you anything your heart desires. "just say the word and it's yours mi corazon". plushies, shoes, jewelleries, clothes, nice vacations and dinners. borderline spoiling you rotten.

◇ and if your not one for extravagant things, he'll make sure that you never have to struggle to afford basic necessities. definitely a "don't worry i'll cover most of the bills for you baby" typa man (aaah a girl can dream)

◇ shouts you out in interviews. whether they ask about his love life or his biggest inspiration, he always makes sure that everyone knows he's had a great girl by his side every step of the way, and he hopes to keep it that way for as long as your down.

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@fezcossidepiece (*≧ω≦) enjoyyyy!!!

[catwyk]

travel doodles part 2!!!! notes and info below if youre interested :]

link to part 1

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picture 1: the cairn maiden!!! i drew her veil on whiteboard ONCE and im obsessed w shading thin drapery now. tbh im just obsessed w drapery

picture 2: headshots of faulkner, roemont, carpenter, and shrue that very much leave something to be desired, but im including them anyway

picture 3: faulkner comforting his father during ep 38 (best s3 episode)

picture 4: PYJAMA FAULKNER !!!! also during ep 38

picture 5: wallace, faulkner and thurrocks attempting to contact the endless drear in ep 22 (best s2 episode). again this leaves somethig to be desired but whooo cares maybe ill adapt it digitally

picture 6: very rough 2-panel comic of faulkner stealing carpenter's pancakes. there was gonna be a third panel where she stabs him with a fork but i fucked it up so badly i had to rip out the whole page. the text reads "couldnt care less" // "still waiting for his food"

picture 7: drawn most of the way through listening to season 3, and you can tell bc im just desparate for carpenter and faulkner to have a happy moment :( this is them going out for coffee together (the text shows that carp has a cappuccino and faulk has a hot chocolate)

picture 8: young em and carpenter playing in the white gull, trying not to fall in :] better times all round. this is another one i wanna digitize

picture 9: an older em and carpenter, where em is cleaning her scraped knee. his speech bubble reads "stop kicking your damn leg."

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Caffeine fix and beyond - Part 2

A/N: Did I come up with the worst fic title? Lmao. This is for @elixirfromthestars Thank you for hosting the cutest writing challenge.

Sitting at the Coffee shop AU table, with some sweet treats - “I’m only doing it because you’re cute.”, “Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?” & Saying ‘I love you’ for the first time.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Warning: fluff!

Word count: 2.4k

Find Part 1 here.

.

It had been a whole fourteen hours since your first kiss with the most famous Avenger and the smile that decorated your face still refused to leave.

After sharing a few more soft kisses and some delicious pizza, Tony left your apartment with a promise of seeing you at your shop the next morning. One could call it the hyper excitement that came with a new relationship but that night, you baked him his favorite blueberry muffins, picturing his handsome, grinning face as you’d feed them to him.

The next day your staff noticed an extra spring in your step as you entered the shop, nobody mentioned the eagerness with which your eyes would scan the door as someone entered in hopes to see that strikingly good-looking face again. The day went by as usual, busying yourself in work seemed the only way to get through without letting nerves get in the way as the clock ticked.

Day morphed into evening and eventually it was time to wind down and head home.

You had checked your phone only about a hundred times to see if there was any message from Tony, every notification only brought disappointment when it wasn’t from him.

He probably had a good reason for his absence but you felt dejected nonetheless. Shrugging your obsessive thoughts aside, you went home and took an elaborate shower. With no updates from the genius billionaire, you turned off your phone and went straight to sleep.

Your colleagues sensed something was up the next day when you arrived, your mood was snappy and irritated which was rare considering how much you loved coming to work. They did their best to not piss you off and you did your best to not have a meltdown over your silly little heart for hoping so much out of that one moment of connection you shared with Tony Stark.

The aroma of freshly ground coffee mixed with delicious baked goods filled the air as usual, something that always brought a smile to your face. But not today. Today you had busied yourself at work to a point where your legs began to ache, you had a headache for some reason and you hadn’t a peep from Stark.

The next day you arrived earlier than you normally would, you hadn’t slept a minute you were in dire need of some caffeine. You almost rolled your eyes realizing the fact that you were behaving like him now. As the day drew on, you were back in your groove, mingling with your regulars at the coffee shop, chatting with your staff.

Commotion could be heard outside as you came back out after lunch. The source seemed to be a few blocks away from the shop, which was also where Stark tower was located. You could see Tony in his suit hovering above the helipad before a blast resounded, making everyone gasp.

You could see a blue beam of light shoot straight up in the sky, making way to a portal that had opened up. You saw Stark head straight up towards it as sentient beings from outer space streamed down from the portal. He hit a few of them effectively, blasting them into smithereens with repulsors but there were too many incoming.

A collective gasp echoed as these creatures flew closer and began firing before people began scrambling to safety. Cars overturned and chaos ensued, making it seem like everything happened too fast and in slow motion all at once.

All while you felt frozen on a spot, there was something bigger incoming from the portal that had opened up, a monster floating down towards the Earth. There was no time to think as a car exploded just a few feet away from you, blasts coming in from all directions making you head back inside for safety.

While it all seemed unreal, you jumped into action by dragging a few injured individuals towards the kitchen, helping a few others get inside right before the glass facade of your coffee shop blew up, shattering to bits as the aliens or whatever these beings called themselves flew by.

You were sure Tony was right in the middle of it all, you just prayed somehow he would come out uninjured. By the looks of it, it seemed like a losing battle, the destruction, debris everywhere, you couldn’t bring yourself to think how many civilians had lost their lives up till this point, and how many would until someone could put an end to it.

Tony’s POV

As unbelievable as the whole situation was, he knew he had to keep going. New York was under attack, it seemed like a losing battle but he knew if the team gave up, the world would probably be ruled by the likes of Loki and his army. They were running out of resources and they were heavily outnumbered. The Chitauri had an endless supply of these monsters and the Avengers, despite their best efforts, were falling short.

He heard Fury over the comms that a nuclear missile was headed towards the city, ordered by the World Security Council. Thinking fast, he decided to use it to their advantage by guiding it towards the wormhole as a last resort.

He knew it could all be over soon, and that he may not make it out alive, but he had to try. The weapon zoomed in and he flew along with it, grabbing it with the suit before increasing the thrusters to maximum speed.

“Sir, shall I try Miss Potts?” JARVIS chimed through the suit, sounding solemn as he too knew there was no way Tony would make it back.

“Might as well.” he mumbled back, partly paying attention while his mind raced through every possible thought; his thoughts landed on you as the wormhole inched closer and closer. Pepper didn’t pick up, the line went blank after ringing hopelessly and he was about to get JARVIS to call you, in hopes that you had somehow survived this, when the AI glitched and went offline.

He released the nuke and watched it head straight towards the enemy before his suit gave up and his eyes turned heavy and he passed out. It was when the missile exploded that the impact of it threw him back towards Earth, sending him hurtling towards the ground just as the wormhole closed.

When his eyes opened, he was on the ground surrounded by the team, heart hammered in his chest, indicating he had by some miracle made it and the mission was successful.

“Please tell me nobody kissed me.” his thoughts quickly returned to you as he said it, wanting nothing more than your lips on his, to let him know he was indeed alive.

.

It seemed like an eternity later that you crawled out of your hiding space, unscathed minus a few cuts here and there, your heart dropped down to your stomach when you saw the condition outside. Dust and rubble had settled but the silence was deafening. You could no longer see the portal that was opened but you couldn’t be sure if all was over.

As people slowly scrambled out and on their way, you found yourself right outside your shop, looking dazed as you plopped down on the street, unable to comprehend.

There was a shuffle behind you, before Tony Stark appeared right by your side and wordlessly took a seat next to you. It was at that point that you felt tears gather in your eyes and cloud your vision.

He pulled you in a hug, clinging onto you just as much as you were to him, stroking your hair in a gentle manner.

“I was so worried, Tony.” you croaked once the tears subsided, leaning into his touch when he cupped your face.

“I know, Y/N. I’m just glad we still have this, well parts of it, anyway. God knows I can’t do without your coffee.” he joked, chuckling when you hit him in the chest and touched your foreheads together.

All the day’s events were made just a little more believable when Tony’s lips touched yours in a kiss that was more of a promise, a promise that you were the sole reason for his more than frequent visits to your little shop.

…

It took more than a month to finally set up the shop post the repair work. You were grateful you had insurance that covered it all, but Tony being Tony, had taken care of a lot of things, even added a few upgrades after convincing you with persuasive kisses and cuddles.

He wore you down, like you even had a chance with that gorgeous smile and doe eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me what I can do to make your day better?”

This was something he always asked, something you didn’t know you needed to hear after a hard day. That one question had the power to dissipate any residual anger, frustration or unpleasant thoughts from your mind.

It made you wonder how on Earth was this guy known to the world as just a genius, billionaire, playboy and philanthropist. He was so much more than that.

It was five o’clock when he showed up one evening, making your little heart flutter as he gave you that winning smile.

“There she is!” Tony exclaimed, holding two cups of coffee as you made your way around the counter to meet him.

“Did no one tell you it was a crime to bring your own coffee to a coffee shop, Stark?” you frowned at the cups in his hands, wiping your hands on the apron you wore.

Chuckling, he placed the mugs aside before wrapping his arms around you, placing a loving kiss on your lips. You felt some heat rise to your cheeks as the onlookers stared at the pair of you. It wasn’t uncommon for him to display his affection for you out in public but it was still something you were getting accustomed to.

“Hello, my gorgeous girl.” he murmured, looking fondly at you while you hopelessly blushed.

“Hello, my handsome boy. How was your day?” you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, idly tracing the outline of his arc reactor.

“Just got better.” he winked.

The cafe was relatively empty as you made your way towards a secluded area which housed a cozy booth. Tony had brought you your favourite coffee from a cafe you loved. You liked yours with a hint of mandarin and there was one quaint cafe that made the best brew. You were shocked he remembered it given you must’ve mentioned it once in a random conversation; the man really was full of surprises. He admitted to having asked one of your closest friends who also worked with you at your cafe about your go to coffee, she had been sworn to secrecy to not mention anything to you.

He had also shown genuine interest in setting up a meeting with your brother, something you assumed he would forget eventually. You couldn’t be gladder that he was proving every assumption of yours wrong.

“This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me, Tony. Thank you.” you placed your hand over his, giving it a squeeze. You noticed how he weaved your fingers together and held them against his slightly trembling ones, letting you know he may have been underslept and over-caffeinated again.

It seemed to you like your life was turned into a romantic movie, with the perfect guy and rose-tinted situations. It was almost too good to be true, but you allowed yourself to dream on.

Tony stayed back as you closed up, even helped you clean up as best as he could, looking rather adorable in an environment that was foreign to him. But he was there for you.

It was then that you realized how hard you were falling for this man. It was inevitable, like you were meant to be. It felt right. He felt right. You and Tony.

“Earth to Y/N?”

You blinked as Tony waved his hands in front of your face, getting you to snap out of your daze. He pulled out a small bag of berries you hadn’t known he’d stashed away behind a counter, making you shake your head fondly.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Y/L/N?” he gently prodded again, feeding you a sweet strawberry from the bag.

“I–I love you, Tony.”

You blurted before you could stop yourself, your heart immediately leapt out of your chest at your confession, making it hard for your brain to process. Almost like in slow motion, Tony leaned away from the counter and made his way closer to you, standing between your legs with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. Arms snaked themselves around your waist before pulling you flush against his chest, his face inching closer to yours as that stupidly handsome smile on his face grew.

“Say it again.” he whispered, nose nudging yours lovingly as his eyes scanned yours for signs of doubt.

“I’m in love with you, Tony Stark.”

You said it again, this time a lot more confident in your head as you matched his grin, locking your arms behind his neck.

“Again.”

“I love you, Anthony Edward Stark.”

“Jeez, not my full name, Y/N!” he made a face, chortling when you hit his chest, yelping when your fingers hit the metal arc reactor instead.

“You’re supposed to say something back, Stark. Not leave a girl hanging. Maybe a hey I love you too back, or a sorry I don’t feel the same way. Something? And ow! That really hurt.”

You were blabbering at this point, you were well aware, your overactive thoughts almost resurfacing until Tony Stark finally opened his mouth to speak up, shushing you with a finger on your lips.

“I love you too, Y/N. Of course I do. I think I have for a long time now. I just wasn’t sure if you felt the same way. You are the reason I smile so much these days, ask the team, really. They’re probably wondering what pills I’m on. I’m all yours if you’ll have me, my sweet Y/N. And you’re all mine, sunshine.”

Tony really left you speechless once again, smirking down at you before descending those godly lips over yours to prove how much of truth his words held.

[eeboshmeebo]

Perfection in Pettiness

Reader x Neito Monoma, obsessive reader, GN reader

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

It all started when you first saw him. The memory was still vivid, as he overshadowed everyone else in your sight.

He was laughing, making fun of the others in the room as he kept talking. His facial expression was full of life, details you've never seen on other people's faces were visible on his. Somehow, his white pupils didn't remind you of a week-old dead fish but instead seemed like blue chalcedony inlaid into snow-white quartz.

His thin lips, delicate but hiding a voice louder than his princely appearance. He isn't a 'stereotypical' flirty and annoying kind of person, not at all...

And most of all, he didn't seem to care if you stared or not. Like right now, as he was picking a fight with the red-haired boy you forgot the name of.

That voice...

"And this is why you 1-A losers can't beat us, you don't even have a balanced diet!"

"Not cool, man! I eat loads of proteins since I work out a lot!"

You knew better. A workout diet would need more than deep-fried foods and a fruit cup, berries and veggies would be needed as well for the minerals and vitamins. Another reason why, though...

You had memorized Monoma's diet, a filet mignon with broiled vegetables and olive oil garnish, along with a light sauce and cranberry juice to wash down everything AND a small flan to top it all off, if your eyes saw correctly. A treat. He must be having a good day to get some extra sugars intentionally.

There was also another reason why you were standing behind him. It was so Kendo couldn't touch him. So she couldn't interrupt him... but when he put his food down, you struck by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Hello, Monoma! Doing fabulous today, as always?"

He froze up under your touch mid-rant out of shock, and so did Kirishima. Being unnoticed was simply an ability at this point.

"...Of course I am, much more than you losers that can't even eat correctly!" He loudly proclaimed, but you could see that he was getting a cold sweat on the back of his neck. Nervous, was he?

"Glad to see that my acquaintance is doing well."

You patted his shoulder with a smile on your face before you went to a secluded corner in the cafeteria to sit down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Kirishima never liked you. He was fine with everyone else, but you? You always looked at everyone with a disinterested gaze and always forgot their names, whether they be your friends or classmates.

Carefree, he thought pf you once. Forgetful and carefree. However, when Monoma came into the picture, your eyes gleamed with affection and interest as you ignored everyone else in the room.

However... he didn't like Monoma, no matter how much he tried to. Besides, it was a bit satisfying to see him freeze and shut up whenever you surprised him.

Not telling anyone wouldn't hurt. Monoma would need to learn how to be nice once in a while, right? Right!

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

Three hours later.

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

He felt like he was being watched. Always watched. Even in his own dorm, he felt like he was being watched.

That couldn't be.

There were no stalkers in a Hero School. Of course he wasn't being watched! He wasn't! He was safe!

That's what Monoma told himself, at least, as he read one of his comics. One of them had been switched out, one of the older ones he forgot to buy a new version of and was somehow replaced with a mint-condition comic still in the plastic wrapping. Maybe Shihai snuck into his room and pitied the state of the book.

A flash in the window drew his eye as he put down the book and set it on the bed with a bookmark in it, grumbling as he stood up and got his slippers on.

"I hope it isn't one of Shihai's pranks again, ugh..."

He opened the window and stepped onto the balcony, looking around suspiciously.

"Shihai, is that you? This isn't funny, it's already late and you should be studying!" He called out, but he got no response.

...

"...maybe it was just a lizard or a bird or something." He mumbled to himself, but as he stepped back inside, he made sure to keep his window securely closed.

He settled himself on his bed, kicking off his slippers and moving under the sheets to continue reading the comic he put down earlier.

The sense of unease didn't go away, even as he settled and dozed off.

Outside, you crawled up from underneath the balcony and smiled when you saw him before you retreated.

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

Throughout the month, you got bolder. Started complimenting him more, started getting him gifts and homemade treats you knew he'd like but not too much. Just 'coincidental'. Started hanging around him more. Started openly standing up for him, and if asked 'What do you see in him?' you'd reply 'Everything'.

That's how much he was worth, after all. Everything. The most gorgeous, clever, amazing person you could ever lay your eyes on, and he'd be yours.

That perfect skin, those pearly eyes, that wonderful voice and smile, and that dazzling personality.

Yes, he'd be yours... all yours. One day. You'll just have to catch the opportunity.

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

Part one.

[quibbs126]

Okay, so I’ve got some designs for Alpha Trion in my AU now

Okay so first off, I translated that top left design from what I drew yesterday at work

I was trying to do a design for AT, and I was using his One design as my main inspiration (though also some g1), since I like how round he is there. But in the process, I got a design that I thought looked too young and buff to be normal Alpha Trion, so I was like “maybe that’s a younger version of him?”

And since I didn’t know what else to do for his design and I thought the design looked half decent anyways, I just translated it to digital today

I’m gonna be honest, kind of like the pen sketch version a bit more, but whatever

But yeah, Alpha Trion here used to be large, buff, and probably not unattractive either. I’m also thinking he fought people plenty too, possibly was a gladiator? I have no explanation as to why I chose to do this other than what I listed above

Optimus and Elita will be shocked to find pictures of the old man in his younger days

I wasn’t really sure how to then translate this design to old, but I gave him some small facial hair, shortened his middle horn, gave him his cape and a sort of slouch, and I guess it works? I don’t know, probably need to do more

Giving him this design, I don’t really know if I feel the smart, probably magical old guy vibes he’s meant to have. But oh well

I also wanted him to have more One colors, with the white instead of the red, but I thought the red looked better. I also wanted to give him pink, maybe even make his eyes pink, but when I was playing around with that pink color, it didn’t look right and I was trying others, and frustratingly, blue looked really good with the other colors, so that’s what I went with. Someone needs to have not blue eyes, I swear

Anyways, onto more character stuff. But to be honest, a lot of it is still ill-defined with AT here. I know he built Elita-1 and then later Optimus, giving him the Matrix of Leadership, and he currently works with Elita in investigating the virus outbreak outside of Autobot command

He’s probably got a complicated relationship with Elita due to giving her an unstable and flawed ability to stop time, along with other general imperfections in her design, but they are able to work together at least. There’s probably also something to be said about them both being combat bots, and how responsible he is for that, which probably now has its own ties into his fighter backstory

I still don’t know what the definition of him “building” Elita and Optimus is, which is why I didn’t draw him with them during that point. Like did he reformat two young bots into Elita and Optimus, giving them new identities? Did he build them from scratch and they were born adults? Or did he build them as sparklings who had a whole developmental period? I really don’t know which one to use, which unfortunately hampers things when it comes to their backstory

And then there’s also the fact that I don’t really know what to do for his backstory. Because while the X AU is loosely based off of Mega Man X, Alpha Trion’s backstory would long predate that. I suppose I could have his more follow the original Mega Man timeline, but what would that mean? Gonna be real, I don’t think the original games were that known for their intricate story and worldbuilding

I like the idea of him being a former gladiator, but what does that mean for him, other than potentially giving him a reason to make Elita and Optimus warriors? What does this backstory do for the story?

Honestly with his similar-ish helmet shape, I’m debating having Alpha Trion’s younger days coincide with Megatron’s true origins, though he wouldn’t come online for a long time after. It could work maybe, I just need to figure out how it works

But one thing I do know is that prior to giving it to Optimus, Alpha Trion was the last bearer of the Matrix of Leadership, and has been the one harboring it since, waiting for the right person to give it to. Not sure how he got it though

He probably also has some issue with governmental authority, given he’s working with Elita independent of the government-backed Autobots, and the fact that he kept the Matrix, despite the higher-ups probably wanting him to give it to them or use it for their purposes

I don’t know, I’ll see what I do with him. The big thing is that I just need to decide on stuff with him, and the other two as well

[starstruckbyacomet]

Why Callum Blue? (Part 2 of 2)

Fans dislike Brad Torrence, but the GA might be smitten with Callum Blue.

(Part 1)

9-1-1 fans on Tumblr (Buddies and BT Nations alike) say nobody like Brad Torrence. He's arrogant to a waitress and a bad father. How about the General Audience?

On Jan 24, 9-1-1 ABC posted a mashup picture of Brad Torrence and Prince Andrew Jacoby from Princess Diary 2 movie. Look how many likes, comments, and shares the post has gotten until recently:

I browsed the comment sections, even clicked some of the IG accounts. They don't look like bots to me. Some of the accounts are private, others are not. They have followers and following numbers, but not many, probably only family and friends. I didn't find a brand new accounts from what I've clicked. A majority of them were surprised, but welcome to Callum's presence on 9-1-1. They were reminiscing his past roles, especially as Prince Andrew Jacoby in Princess Diary 2:

Notice that 911onabc responded to some of the positive comments and ignored the negative ones.

Callum Blue's picture was not posted on a special occassion. It was in the middle of hiatus. Some people suggested that the post might be meant to promote the Princess Diaries 3 movie. However, when I googled (just now), Callum was not in the list of the movie cast members.

Do you notice that the post has 45.2K likes, 911 comments (a nice number, btw), and 3,834 shares?

Compare that to the following normal* posts on 9-1-1 IG:

*Normal means NOT on special occassions like Halloween, Christmas, New Year, or Valentine, and definetely NOT AFTER BUCKTOMMY BREAK UP EPISODE, which triggered a lot of complaints.

1)) Oliver/Buck in his golfing attire, a fan favorite which has been zoomed in, edited, reblogged multiple times on Tumblr, only has 36.1K likes, 69 comments, and 304 shares. It's a far cry from Callum's solo picture:

Ryan/Eddie with his handsome smile fares a bit better. He got 37.5K likes, 309 comments, and 461 shares, but he's not even close to Callum:

The Queen herself only got 34.5 likes, 184 comments, and 295 shares, still far below what Callum got:

Surprisingly, Kenny/Chimney in a physician coat got more engagements than the rest of the main casts. He got almost twice of likes, but a third of comments, and half of shares, compared to what Callum got:

Their group photos & reels seems to get more likes, although their numbers of shares or comments are still below what Callum got ALONE:

Interestingly, when Callum was included in their ensemble photos, he didn't seem to move the needle much:

Callum's solo picture drove a lot of engagements, but when he was part of an ensemble, the engagements were not that many. Probably it's because he didn't stand out in an ensemble, so his fans didn't recognize that it was him.

The latest post featured solo Brad Torrence got a very high amount of likes (9,404 likes), and it was posted only 7 hours ago! The numbers of comments and shares also more than what solo pictures of other cast members have gotten. Although a lot of the comments seem to come from Buddie fans and Bucktommy Nations who asked for their ship to be canon or reunited (the usual case), we couldn't ignore the number of likes, which probably came from the GA or Callum fans.

The conclusions that I drew from the above analysis:

Callum Blue seems to have a decent number of fans. Most of them probably have been his fans long before 9-1-1 was premiered.

Most of GA might be Facebook Moms indeed. The other cast member whose solo picture gained the most engagement after Callum Blue is Kenny/Chimney in a physician coat. Unlike Buddies and Bucktommy Nations, these Facebook Moms are most likely older Millenial or Gen-X, straight, married women with children. They tend to look beyond physical appearance in choosing a life-partner. With Eddie's track record in mistreating women and Buck's childish atitude, of course these women prefer Chimney, the almost perfect husband, especially when he looks smart and well-off in a doctor's coat.

9-1-1 fandom is TINY. I know that the whole 9-1-1 fandom is not that big. However, I never thought that 9-1-1 fandom might be even SMALLER than Callum Blue fans 🤣😂🤣. I mean, we're supposed to engage in social media more than the Facebook Moms, but look at the numbers of engagement which Callum got compared to other cast members. How many more fans he has, who aren't even aware of the IG posts? This is a reality check for us, especially for BoBs who have claimed that canon Buddie would bring a lot of new viewers to the show 😂.