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mrs-delaney · 1 month ago

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Hide | The First Date | Chapter Three

Summary: Riley Carter doesn’t get nervous about dates—until now. Dinner with Joe Burrow was supposed to be simple, but from the moment she steps into his apartment, she knows this is something else entirely. The conversation is easy, the chemistry undeniable, and before she knows it, she’s sharing pieces of herself she doesn’t usually give away.

But reality lingers in the background. Different cities. Different careers. Different worlds. She’s done long-distance before, and she knows how it ends. So why is she still sitting on his couch, laughing over shared stories and stolen glances, feeling like something about tonight just fits?

Maybe it’s the wine. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s him.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 7.7k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, flirty banter, excessive smiling at phone screens, mentions of past toxic relationships, one overly charming quarterback, and an increasing risk of catching feelings.

A Few Quick Notes:

📌 This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen.Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

📌 Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me!

📌 Requests: Open

Author’s Note:

Finally—the first date! I loved writing this chapter because it’s all about those little moments that make a connection feel real. The easy conversation, the unexpected confessions, the way one glance can make everything shift.

Joe and Riley have undeniable chemistry, but what really made this fun to write is the push and pull between them. Riley isn’t someone who gets swept up easily, and Joe isn’t the type to chase what doesn’t feel right. But something about this—this night, this moment—feels different for both of them.

This chapter really sets the tone for what’s to come, and let’s just say… things are about to get even more complicated.😉

Let me know what you think! 💛✨

Taglist: @wickedfun9

"This is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, smoothing her hands over the high-waisted brown and black checkered pants she'd paired with a cropped white t-shirt with "SALT" printed across the front. She tugged lightly at the hem of the shirt, exposing just the right amount of skin—not too much, but enough to feel playful.

She'd spent an embarrassing amount of time deciding what to wear. The black dress had felt too formal, the ripped jeans too casual, and the jumpsuit too trendy. After trying on practically everything she'd packed for her week in New York, she'd finally landed on this outfit—something that struck the perfect balance between effort and effortlessness.

The brown and black checkered pants were a statement piece she'd bought on a whim during a shopping trip with her bandmate Andy, who'd insisted they were "totally her." The loose-fitting cropped SALT tee was casual enough to balance the bold pattern, and she'd added a delicate gold necklace that drew attention to her collarbone. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, styled to look like she hadn't actually spent forty-five minutes on it.

She stepped back, tilting her head. The pants hugged her hips perfectly, the tailored cut accentuating her legs in a way she knew would draw attention. Her black Converse grounded the whole look, adding an effortless edge that felt like her. It said, "I care, but I'm not trying too hard."

It wasn't like she hadn't been on a date before. She'd had her fair share of first meetings over drinks or dinner, especially in the year since she'd finally ended things with her ex. But this wasn't just any date—it was a date with Joe Burrow. A man who'd chosen her over Kendall Jenner and Zendaya on national television, whose genuine smile made her stomach flip, whose text messages had become the highlight of her days in New York.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she cared what he thought. She wanted his eyes to drift to the curve of her waist, to notice the way she'd tucked her hair behind one ear, leaving her jawline bare. She wanted him to look at her and think she was worth choosing again, off-camera, when it was just the two of them.

Why am I doing this? she thought, staring at her reflection. Why was she putting so much pressure on a dinner that would be over in a few hours? They were only in New York for a few more days. This was temporary—a fleeting connection that geography and careers would inevitably complicate.

She took a breath, smoothing her hands over her pants one last time. "It's just dinner," she told herself firmly. "With Joe Burrow. No big deal."

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew she didn't believe them.

Joe wasn't her usual type. She'd spent most of her twenties in an on-again, off-again relationship with the same guy. A musician in a rival band, who ran in the same circles and understood her world. The kind of man who lived in the moment but never had a real plan for the future. They had history, passion, and just enough toxicity to keep pulling each other back in. She'd written her best songs in the aftermath of their fights, poured her heart out on stages across the country with lyrics he'd inspired.

Joe was the opposite. Steady. Focused. A man who knew exactly who he was and where he was going. He didn't need chaos to feel alive. He wasn't chasing the next thrill or trying to outrun himself. He was just... comfortable in his own skin. There was something grounding about him, like he was anchored in a way her ex never was.

And that confidence? Yeah, it didn't hurt.

Neither did the fact that he was ridiculously good-looking. Strong jawline, sharp blue eyes, and a body built for power and precision. But it wasn't just his looks. He was funny, kind, and had this way of making her feel like she was the only person in the room when he looked at her. Their text conversations had revealed a thoughtfulness she hadn't expected—he remembered details, asked follow-up questions, seemed genuinely interested in her world beyond the surface level.

Riley grabbed her bag, a vintage leather crossbody she'd found at a flea market in Nashville, slipping her phone into it before taking one last look in the mirror. The outfit was casual but deliberate, playful but grounded. It felt authentic to who she was, not who she thought he wanted her to be.

With a deep breath, she headed for the door, a flutter of anticipation settling in her stomach as she called for a car.

The ride to Joe's temporary apartment went by in a blur of city lights and second thoughts. What if the easy rapport they'd established through texts didn't translate in person? What if the Tonight Show connection was just a fluke, a moment of chemistry manufactured by the surreal circumstances? What if she was setting herself up for disappointment?

But before she could spiral too far, the car pulled up to a sleek high-rise in Tribeca. "You've arrived at your destination," the driver announced, snapping her back to reality.

Riley stepped out onto the sidewalk, taking in the modern glass building towering above her. Of course Joe would stay in a place like this—upscale without being flashy, convenient to downtown without being in the middle of the tourist chaos.

After checking in with the doorman, who seemed unsurprised by her arrival (had Joe mentioned she was coming?), Riley rode the elevator to the twenty-second floor. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she approached apartment 2204, hesitating just a moment before knocking.

When Joe opened the door, the easy smile on his face faltered for just a second. His eyes dropped—first to the playful sliver of skin where her cropped shirt ended, then to the way her checkered pants hugged her figure.

Riley saw it.

It was subtle—the way his jaw tightened briefly before he caught himself and looked back up at her face. But it was enough to send a flicker of warmth through her. That look—that momentary slip in his composure—told her more than words could have. He was affected by her, even if he tried to hide it.

"Hey," he said, his voice easy, but his eyes lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.

He looked good—really good. Black t-shirt that fit just right across his shoulders, light wash jeans that had probably cost more than they looked like they should. White socks peeking out above his bare feet, as if he was completely comfortable in his space and wanted her to feel the same. His hair was slightly tousled, like he'd run his hands through it recently.

"Hey yourself," Riley replied, a smile spreading across her face.

Joe stepped forward, pulling her into a quick hug, his hand warm against her back. She caught the subtle scent of his cologne—something clean and masculine that made her want to lean in closer. As they pulled apart, he pressed a brief, casual kiss to her cheek. The gesture was friendly, welcoming, but the slight pressure of his hand at her waist suggested something more.

"Come in," he said, stepping back to let her inside. "Dinner's almost ready."

The apartment was exactly what she would have expected from a high-end New York rental—open floor plan, sleek furniture in neutral tones, and stunning floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city skyline. The space was beautiful but impersonal, with nothing to suggest it was anything more than a temporary stop. No photos, no personal touches, nothing that revealed anything about the man staying there.

"Nice place," she said, taking in the modern lines of the apartment.

Joe shrugged, dragging his hand through his hair. "I'm working on a brand deal and told them I didn't care where I stayed but I wanted a nice view and this is what they got me."

Riley smiled, the response so perfectly Joe. Direct, unpretentious, focused only on what mattered to him. She moved toward the windows, drawn to the panoramic view of the city below—a mesmerizing tapestry of lights against the darkening sky. "Well, they nailed the view part. This is incredible."

The rich aroma of tomato sauce and garlic filled the air, making her mouth water and reminding her that despite her nerves, she was actually hungry.

"Is something burning?" she teased, turning back to him with a playful smile.

Joe laughed, moving toward the kitchen. "Not yet, but no promises. I'm more of a 'follow the recipe exactly' kind of cook."

Riley followed him, leaning against the kitchen island as he stirred something on the stove. The kitchen was spotless except for the evidence of his cooking—a cutting board with a few stray herbs, a unopened bottle of wine, two glasses waiting to be filled.

"Which means you can cook, just not freestyle it," she observed, watching him move confidently between the stove and counter. There was something undeniably attractive about a man who knew his way around a kitchen, even if he was just following instructions.

Joe glanced at her, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that made her stomach flip. "Let's see how dinner turns out before you give me too much credit." He picked up the bottle of wine opened it, and poured her a glass, the rich burgundy liquid catching the light. "Wine?"

"Please," Riley said, accepting the glass with a smile. Their fingers brushed lightly in the process, and she felt that small point of contact like an electric current running up her arm. Ridiculous, she thought, how such a tiny touch could affect her so strongly.

The wine was smooth and rich, clearly chosen with care. She took an appreciative sip, the complex flavor lingering on her tongue. "This is good."

"A friend recommended it," Joe admitted. "Said it would pair well with pasta."

"Your friend has excellent taste," Riley said, watching as he returned to the stove, stirring what looked like a rich tomato sauce.

"To not burning dinner," he said, grinning as he clinked his glass against hers.

Riley smirked. "I'll drink to that."

As Joe continued cooking, Riley couldn’t help but notice how little of himself he’d brought into the space. Where she would have unpacked fully into even a temporary rental, arranging her things to make it feel like home, his possessions were nearly invisible—a phone charger plugged into the wall, a few essentials on the kitchen counter, a single sweatshirt draped over a chair. It was as if he was just passing through, careful not to leave any trace of himself behind.

“That smells amazing,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “I thought we’d be getting takeout, but this is way better. I’m already impressed.”

Joe glanced at her, amusement flashing in his eyes. "Like I said don't get your hopes up. I had to call someone earlier to walk me through this recipe."

"That's fair," Riley teased, "but this looks really good—and pasta is one of my favorites."

Joe chuckled, turning back to the stove. "Well, then, I guess I made the right choice."

There was something surprisingly intimate about watching him cook for her. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it felt personal in a way that dinner at a restaurant wouldn't have. He was inviting her into his temporary space, making an effort that went beyond simply making a reservation.

"Can I help with anything?" she offered, setting her wine glass down.

Joe shook his head. "Just keep me company. Tell me about your day."

So she did. Riley found herself talking about the recording session that had gone unexpectedly well, about the weird interaction she'd had with a fan who recognized her at the coffee shop, about the frustrating call with her team about tour dates. As she spoke, Joe listened, asking questions that showed he was genuinely engaged, not just waiting for his turn to talk.

"Is your band all here in New York with you?" he asked as he drained the pasta.

"Yeah, we're together a lot, working or not," Riley said with a fondness in her voice. "We've been inseparable since we were, what, fourteen? Fifteen? That’s my family."

"That's a long time," Joe observed, glancing at her with interest. "You must have grown up together in a lot of ways."

Riley nodded, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, I met Pete the summer before high school at a drama competition, and he eventually introduced me to Andy and Nick. We just clicked—four drama and band geeks with messy home lives, spending entire weekends writing terrible songs and talking about touring the world. When everything else felt like chaos, we had each other. We still do, in a lot of ways.”

Joe smiled, his eyes softening at her obvious affection. As he stirred the sauce, he glanced over at her, his attention fully on her despite the task at hand. “That’s really incredible—you don’t see that kind of bond last so long very often.”

There was something about the way he looked at her—focused, interested, like he wasn’t just listening but really hearing her—that made her stomach flip. She shifted slightly in her seat, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, suddenly hyperaware of the warmth between them.

By the time he plated the pasta, Riley realized she'd been rambling for nearly twenty minutes, and he hadn't seemed bored for a second.

Joe grabbed two plates and gestured toward the dining table, then hesitated. “The table’s kind of ridiculous,” he admitted with a small grin. “We’d have to yell to hear each other.”

Riley laughed, glancing at the sleek but oversized dining setup. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.”

“Island?” he suggested, nodding toward the kitchen island with its barstools tucked neatly beneath the counter.

“Island,” she agreed.

They settled in side by side, their plates in front of them, knees nearly brushing in the close space. The island felt more casual, more natural than the oversized dining table, and Riley liked that. Close enough to steal a bite off his plate if she wanted to. Close enough to feel the occasional brush of his arm when he reached for his glass.

Dinner was simple but good—pasta with a rich tomato sauce, salad, and fresh bread. The warm glow of the pendant light cast soft shadows across the marble countertop, the city skyline stretching out behind them. It was quiet, comfortable, the kind of setting that made conversation easy. A far cry from a fancy restaurant with stiff white tablecloths and carefully curated small talk. This felt better. Warmer. Like they weren’t just sharing a meal, but actually getting to know each other.

Riley took a bite of the pasta, savoring the tangy sweetness of the sauce. "This is really good. I thought you said you weren't much of a cook?"

"I said I could follow a recipe," Joe corrected with a grin. "And I might have gotten some coaching over the phone from my mom."

Riley laughed, genuinely touched by the admission. "That's adorable. My Papa was the cook in our house growing up, but I picked up a lot from him. Cooking's kind of my therapy now—when I actually have time to be home."

"Oh yeah?" Joe raised an eyebrow, looking impressed. "What's your specialty?"

"I would say stuff that's fried and will stick to your ribs—hearty Southern stuff," Riley said with a hint of pride. "Gumbo, jambalaya, red beans and rice, fried chicken. Comfort food with history behind it. The kind of dishes that taste best when you're making them with people you love, music playing, wine flowing."

Joe looked at her with newfound appreciation. "Now I feel like I should be embarrassed about serving you pasta."

"Don't be," Riley smiled, taking another bite. "Sometimes simple is exactly right. And this is really good."

"So what do you do with your time when you're not playing football?" Riley asked, twirling pasta around her fork. The texture of the al dente pasta and the smooth sauce created a perfect contrast that she savored as she waited for his answer.

"UFC is big for me," Joe replied, his expression lighting up. "Been following it for years. There's something about the strategy, not just the physicality. I read a lot too—mostly history and biographies. Something about understanding how other people think, especially leaders or athletes who've overcome odds. And..." he hesitated, then admitted with a self-deprecating smile, "I spend more time than I should rewatching 90s cartoons."

"Wait," Riley leaned forward, genuinely surprised. "Like what?"

“SpongeBob. The early seasons—elite TV. Best way to shut my brain off.”

"No way!" Riley said with unexpected enthusiasm. "My grandparents raised me, and I basically spent half my childhood parked in front of the TV. SpongeBob was my religion."

Joe's laugh was immediate and genuine, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I didn't expect you to be a SpongeBob fan."

"The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma," she quoted in a perfect Patrick voice, complete with the milk carton motion.

Joe nearly choked on his wine, setting the glass down as he laughed. "Okay, that was scarily accurate."

"Years of practice," Riley said with a playful wink.

The conversation flowed naturally from there, covering everything from music (he admitted to having a playlist with some of her band's songs) to football (she confessed she'd watched highlights of his games on YouTube before coming over).

"What about when you're not recording or touring?" Joe asked, refilling her wine glass. The smooth sound of the wine pouring into the crystal, the subtle clink as he set the bottle down, added to the intimate atmosphere. "What does Riley Carter do for fun?"

Riley smiled, leaning back in her chair. "I have these friends in Leadville," she explained, a fondness creeping into her voice. "Mark, his wife Amy, and their two kids—Evie and Olive. They're like my second family. Whenever I can get a week free, I crash with them. This past summer, we went on this overnight rafting trip down the Arkansas River. Nothing fancy—just set up camp, built a fire, and completely disconnected. It was exactly what I needed."

"That sounds amazing," Joe admitted, a hint of something like wistfulness crossing his features. "I haven't done nearly enough of that stuff."

"No?" Riley asked, finding it hard to imagine a life without spontaneous adventures.

Joe shrugged, his expression suddenly more vulnerable than she'd seen it all evening. "Football's been pretty all-consuming since I was a kid. My idea of adventure is mostly finding a decent restaurant in whatever city we're playing in. My friends tell me I need to broaden my horizons more," he added with a self-deprecating smile. "On my time off, I'm still prone to staying in, playing video games and studying film. Not exactly the experiences you're talking about."

Riley studied him for a moment, seeing beyond the confident quarterback to the man who might have missed out on certain kinds of experiences. "Well, Mark and Amy would love you. They're always looking for new people to drag on their adventures."

The way she included him so casually in her future plans caught them both by surprise. Riley felt her cheeks warm slightly, but Joe's smile only widened, his eyes holding hers with unexpected intensity.

"What about internationally?" Joe asked, genuinely curious. "You tour a lot, right? Do you ever get to actually see the places you go?"

Riley's face lit up. "Last year, after our European tour wrapped, I took three weeks and just traveled through Eastern Europe by train. No schedule, no real plan. Just a rail pass and a backpack. Ended up in this tiny Hungarian village for their wine festival, then a thermal bath in Budapest that's been there since the 1500s. I slept in a converted monastery in Poland." She smiled at the memory. "It's the best kind of freedom, just going wherever looks interesting that day."

Joe's expression showed both admiration and perhaps a touch of envy. "That's... I can't even imagine doing something like that."

"You should try it sometime," Riley suggested, her voice warm. "There's something about just going where the day takes you."

Joe took a sip of his wine, considering her words. "I think that's where we're really different," he admitted. "I like having a plan, knowing what's coming next. Structure has always been my thing."

“And I get bored if I know exactly what’s happening,” Riley countered with a mischievous smile. “Half the fun is the unexpected. Last year I missed a flight because I got caught up exploring a street market in Barcelona, ended up crashing with locals I’d just met, and had one of the best nights of my life.” She laughed at the memory. “Honestly, I’m lucky my team’s as laid-back as they are, or they probably would’ve killed me. But some of my favorite memories come from those kinds of detours.”

Joe's eyes widened slightly. "That would stress me out so much."

“For real, one of these days, you should give it a shot,” Riley teased, her tone light but sincere. “There’s a certain thrill in ditching the plan and seeing where the moment takes you.”

Joe studied her, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “Maybe one day,” he said, his voice warm, a hint of something unreadable in his expression.

Riley arched a brow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “Maybe?” she echoed. “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

Joe swirled the wine in his glass, watching her over the rim before taking a slow sip. “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” she challenged, tilting her head.

His gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “On whether you’re willing to show me how.”

Riley’s smirk softened, her gaze flicking over him as she rested her chin on her hand. “You sure you can handle that, Burrow?”

Joe didn’t answer right away. He just watched her, his blue eyes steady, thoughtful. Then, slowly, he set his wine glass down and leaned in, his voice lower now, quieter. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

Something in his tone sent a shiver down Riley’s spine—not just the usual flirtation, but something more deliberate, more serious.

She swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the space between them. Or rather, the lack of it.

“You might regret that,” she said, but her voice had lost some of its teasing edge.

Joe held her gaze, his lips twitching slightly like he knew exactly what he was doing. “I doubt it.”

The air between them felt charged, the sounds of the city outside fading into the background. For a moment, neither of them moved, both caught in whatever this was—whatever it was turning into.

Riley exhaled, tilting her head as if considering. “I’ll think about it,” she said, dragging out the words just enough to tease. Then, with a playful smirk, she reached for her wine glass. “But I make no promises. You might be a lost cause.”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “You seem like a girl who likes a challenge.”

Riley smirked. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Riley cleared her throat, breaking the moment slightly. She shifted in her seat, offering him a casual smile. “So,” she said, steering the conversation to safer ground, “you’ve been single for about a year?”

Joe nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Yeah. My ex and I were together for a long time—since college. She's a great person, but we just grew apart."

"Was it hard?" Riley asked gently, genuinely curious about how someone like Joe handled heartbreak.

"It was," Joe admitted, his expression thoughtful. "Not because there was bad blood or anything, but because we'd been such a big part of each other's lives for so long. I never wanted to make things harder for her than they needed to be. She's a good person, and I wanted to be respectful about how we ended things."

There was no bitterness in his voice, no lingering resentment. Just a mature understanding that sometimes relationships end, and that's okay. It was refreshing to hear someone speak so kindly about an ex, especially compared to her own experience. The contrast wasn't lost on Riley—Joe's measured, respectful approach versus the explosive, public mess of her last relationship.

Riley nodded slowly, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "I get that. My last relationship was... the opposite of amicable."

Joe tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "What happened?"

She let out a small breath, leaning back in her chair. This wasn't something she usually discussed on first dates, but something about Joe made her want to be honest. "It's kind of a long story. We were together on and off since I was sixteen—so, way too long. He was..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "another musician. Talented, charismatic, and completely unpredictable. The kind of guy who'd show up at my door at 3 AM with tickets to Paris for a flight leaving in two hours."

"And you'd go?" Joe asked, a hint of wonder in his voice.

"Every time," Riley admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "That was the pattern. Chaos, excitement, massive fights, tearful reunions—the whole toxic cycle. By the time it ended, it wasn't just messy—it was headlines. The internet had a field day picking sides."

Joe reached for the wine bottle, refilling both their glasses as he considered her words. "That sounds brutal."

"It was," Riley said, accepting the wine with a grateful nod. "It took me a while to get my footing again, but I've been single ever since. And honestly? It's been good for me. I needed that time to figure out who I was without the constant drama."

Something about Joe's careful responses, the way he maintained a polite distance even as they connected, nagged at the back of Riley's mind. He was present, engaged, clearly interested—but there was something guarded about him too. A wall she couldn't quite see beyond. She'd been drawn to unavailable men before, mistaking their reserve for depth. The difference was, this time she noticed the pattern.

Joe nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That makes sense. You seem like someone who knows exactly who she is."

"Most of the time," she said with a small smile, touched by his perception. "But it took a lot of trial and error to get here. I've been through some wild phases—there was definitely a time when my idea of problem-solving was to drink too much tequila and make impulsive decisions. I'm not gonna lie sometimes I still drink too much, smoke too much and make impulsive decisions."

Joe laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I partied a pretty good bit in college, but now I prefer more chill things where I can drink a bit and maybe smoke a bit in the off season." Riley tilted her head, intrigued. “So you’re saying you can let loose every now and then?”

Joe smirked, taking a slow sip of his wine. “I mean, I’m not out here causing scandals, but I like to unwind like anyone else. A few drinks, a little smoke—helps take the edge off, especially in the off-season.”

Riley grinned, resting her chin on her hand. “Mmm, good to know your not a saint.”

Joe chuckled. “I think the people close to me would laugh at the idea of me being a saint.”

She studied him for a moment, tapping her fingers lightly against her glass. “So what does unwinding look like for you? I can’t picture you in some wild club, bottle service and all that.”

Joe shook his head. “Nah, that’s not my scene. I’d rather be at a house party with people I actually like, or catching a fight, or hanging out at my house playing video games.”

Riley’s lips quirked. “Honestly? That all sounds like a good time.”

Joe raised an eyebrow, amused. “Even the fight?”

“Especially the fight,” she said, grinning. “I love that shit.”

Something shifted in Joe’s expression—a softening, a flicker of surprise, like he hadn’t expected her to get it. “Sometimes I do wonder what I’ve missed while I’ve been so focused.”

Riley studied him, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. "Missed?" she echoed, genuine curiosity in her voice.

Joe leaned back slightly, running a hand through his hair—a gesture she was beginning to recognize as his thinking move. “Football has always been everything. Every decision, every sacrifice—it’s all been for the game.” His eyes met hers, flickering with something raw. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve… I don’t know. Lived a little more.”

Riley tilted her head, considering him without judgment. "You mean like the whole reckless, 'young and wild' phase?"

“I don’t know,” Joe said with a small shrug. “Just never really had the time for all that.”

She let the thought settle between them for a moment, swirling her wine gently before a teasing glint sparked in her eyes. "Well, if you ever feel like making a few questionable decisions, I'd be happy to be a bad influence."

Joe laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Oh, you're gonna be trouble. I can already tell."

Riley's smile widened, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No," he agreed, leaning forward slightly, his gaze holding hers with newfound intensity. "It's not."

The moment stretched between them, electric with possibility, until Riley broke it with a playful sip of her wine. "At least I'll make sure you have fun along the way."

The conversation had been effortless, filled with laughs, thoughtful exchanges, and a surprising ease that felt almost too good to be true. As they finished eating, she leaned back in her chair and sipped the last of her wine, her eyes drifting toward Joe as he cleared their plates.

As she looked at him moving around the kitchen, Riley found herself wondering if there could ever be a real future here. Cincinnati and New Orleans might as well be different planets for all the practical challenges they presented. Her life was constant movement—touring, recording, the obligations that came with her career. His was just as demanding, but in a completely different way. How would they even begin to navigate that?

She'd been in this exact situation before—the excitement of connection followed by months of trying to align schedules, of disappointment when plans fell through, of relationships that existed more in text messages than in real life. Intense connections that burned bright then faded when real life intervened.

And yet something about Joe felt different. More substantial. Worth the effort, maybe.

The thought brought a slight tightness to her chest that she tried to ignore. Tonight wasn't about practicalities or logistics. It was about connection, and that was something they seemed to have in abundance.

"Do you want dessert?" Joe asked, glancing over his shoulder as he moved toward the sink.

Riley smiled, shaking her head. "I shouldn't. I'm already too full, and you've set the bar pretty high with dinner. I don't want to ruin it."

Joe chuckled, rinsing the plates and setting them in the sink. "I'll take that as a win."

"Definitely a win," she replied, her lips curving into a grin.

As she stood to help him clear the island, Joe waved her off. "You're my guest. Sit. Relax."

Riley laughed softly but sat back down, watching as he moved around the kitchen. There was an ease to his movements, a quiet confidence that was more appealing than any over-the-top charm or swagger. "You're a lot more laid-back than I expected," she admitted, her voice teasing but sincere.

Joe glanced at her with a curious smile. "What'd you expect?"

"I don't know," she said, tilting her head thoughtfully. "Maybe someone a little more... intense? With the way you are on the field, I figured that might carry over."

Joe smirked, drying his hands on a dish towel. "Don't get me wrong, I can be intense when it comes to football. But I'm not trying to bring that energy to dinner."

"Well, it's working for you," Riley said, leaning forward slightly. "Though I wouldn't mind seeing that intensity in the right context," she added with a small smirk, unable to help herself.

Joe smiled at her, his eyes warm. "Good. I'm glad."

There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the kind that didn't need to be filled with nervous chatter. Riley found herself studying his profile as he finished tidying up��the sharp line of his jaw, the concentration in his eyes, the way his mouth curved slightly upward even in repose.

When he caught her looking, she didn't glance away. Instead, she held his gaze, a small smile playing at her lips. Something shifted in the air between them, a subtle change in energy that made her pulse quicken.

After they'd finished cleaning up, Joe suggested they move to the couch, where they could see the city lights better. Riley agreed, settling onto the sleek gray sofa while Joe dimmed the overhead lights, enhancing the glow from the cityscape outside. The fabric of the couch was soft against her skin, and she could feel the slight warmth where Joe had been sitting before dinner.

"This view is seriously incredible," Riley said, looking out at the panorama of buildings and twinkling lights. The distant sounds of the city—car horns, the occasional siren, the constant urban hum—filtered through the glass, creating a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"It is," Joe agreed, but when she turned, she found him looking at her instead of the window.

Her breath caught for just a second, the weight of his gaze stirring something in her chest. The way he watched her—like she was something worth looking at, worth remembering—made the cityscape outside feel insignificant in comparison.

The moment stretched between them, charged with something neither was ready to name. Riley felt her pulse quicken, her skin warming under his steady gaze. She'd been looked at by plenty of men before, but rarely with this quiet intensity, this focused attention that seemed to see past her surface.

Finally, she arched a brow, aiming for lightness despite the sudden shift in the air. "The view's that way, Burrow," she said, nodding toward the window.

Joe's mouth curved into a slow smile, unapologetic. "I know."

He held her gaze for another moment before shaking his head slightly. "My friends are already giving me hell about tonight, you know."

Riley tilted her head. “For what?”

Joe huffed a laugh. “My buddy Ja’Marr sent, and I quote, ‘You better not fumble this.”

Riley’s lips parted in surprise before she laughed, warm and genuine. “Oh, hilarious.”

Joe shook his head, amused. “Not to me! If they think I’m actually into someone, it’s game over. The whole Fallon thing and tonight has definitely made the group chat.”

Riley bit her lip, fighting a grin. “And does it deserve to?”

Joe’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he studied her. “That depends.”

“On what?” she challenged softly.

His voice was smooth, teasing, but something in the way he looked at her made her breath hitch. “On whether I’m fumbling.”

The space between them felt smaller. Riley swallowed, her voice quieter now. “I don’t think you are.”

Joe’s fingers drummed once against the cushion beside her, contemplative. “Good.”

Neither of them moved for a long moment. The outside world—the buzzing of her phone, his teammates’ texts, the city humming beyond the windows—faded away, leaving only the two of them in the quiet charge of something unspoken.

Then Joe reached for his glass, breaking the moment just enough for them both to breathe again. “So… your bandmates do they know about us?”

Riley smirked. “Oh, absolutely. Andy’s probably picking out my wedding dress as we speak.”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “Ja’Marr is already picking out my tux.”

Riley lifted her glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to our wildly overinvolved friends.”

Joe clinked his glass against hers, his gaze lingering just a second too long. “I’ll drink to that.”

"Good to know we're providing entertainment," Riley said with a playful roll of her eyes.

"So..," Joe said, shifting the conversation. "I've been listening to your music a lot this week."

Riley felt a flutter of pleasure at his admission. "Yeah? What's your favorite?"

"'Gasoline,'" he replied without hesitation. "There's something about it that's...very real. Raw. Like you're not holding anything back."

Riley blinked, genuinely surprised by his specific observation. "That's from our first album. Most people don't even know that song. I wrote it after a particularly wild weekend in Austin—I'd actually gotten kicked out of a bar because I was underage and ended up sleeping on a stranger's beanbag chair." She laughed, then caught herself.

Joe’s brows lifted, amusement flashing across his face. “Wait—what?”

Riley grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Oh, it was a night. Lost my fake ID, got caught sneaking back in, and instead of calling it a loss like a normal person, I tried to argue my way past the bouncer. Spoiler alert—he did not find me charming.”

Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “And the stranger’s couch?”

Riley exhaled dramatically. “Yep. Woke up on a beanbag chair next to a guy named Sparrow—who I’m 99% sure was actually named Todd.”

Joe let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “That sounds… chaotic.”

“Oh, it was,” Riley said with a smirk. “But chaos breeds creativity.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes playful. “Look, I was young, reckless, and very committed to bad decisions.” She lifted her wine glass in a mock toast. “But hey, at least it made for a good song.”

Joe huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Anyway,” Riley said, tilting her head. “I’m impressed you know that song.”

Joe’s lips quirked into a smirk of his own. “I gotta admit, I’ve been a fan—mostly the radio stuff. But I’ve been doing my research this week.”

Riley arched a brow, intrigued. “Research, huh?”

He shrugged, his grin easy. “Professional habit. I like to know what I’m talking about.”

Joe exhaled, stretching an arm along the back of the couch as he studied her. “You surprise me, you know.”

Riley tilted her head, intrigued. “Yeah? How so?”

He smirked, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know what I expected when we started talking, but I don’t think it was someone who writes songs about waking up next to a guy named Sparrow.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I like to keep people guessing.”

Joe chuckled. “That, I’m starting to realize.”

A comfortable silence settled between them for a beat, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. Riley let her gaze drift toward the window, the lights of the city sprawling below them.

Joe was still looking at her when she turned back. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “What about now? What kind of stories do you want to tell?”

Riley hesitated, caught off guard by the sincerity of the question. Most people wanted to talk about her old songs, the chaos and recklessness, the wild nights and heartbreak. But Joe was asking about now. About her.

She let out a slow breath, tracing the rim of her wine glass. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “I think I’m still figuring that out.”

Joe nodded like he understood. He didn’t push for an answer, didn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, he let it sit, as if giving her the space to figure it out for herself.

Riley appreciated that.

But as the quiet stretched between them, another realization settled in.

She understood all too well the constant pull of professional obligations. She thought of her own schedule—the studio sessions, the meetings with the label about the upcoming tour, the media commitments that seemed to multiply daily. The practical reality of their lives hit her suddenly—how rarely they'd be in the same city, how different their demands and schedules were, how complicated it would be to build something real between Cincinnati and New Orleans.

For a brief moment, she wondered if this was worth pursuing. She'd made that mistake before—trying to force a relationship to work despite impossible logistics, ending up with stolen weekends and late-night phone calls that only made the distance harder. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do that again.

But as Joe looked back at her, that focused intensity returning to his eyes, Riley found herself reconsidering. Maybe this was different. Maybe he was different.

When she finally glanced at her phone and saw it was nearly midnight, she sighed. "I should probably go. Early studio session tomorrow."

Joe nodded, though she thought she caught a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Let me call you a car."

Riley raised an eyebrow. "You really don't have to do that."

"I want to," he said simply, already opening the app. The gesture was old-fashioned, gentlemanly in a way that felt both unexpected and completely in character for him.

Joe confirmed the ride, then turned back to her. "It'll be here in about five minutes."

As they walked toward the door, Riley grabbed her bag from the chair where she'd set it earlier.

"Are you staying in the city while you're here?" Joe asked as he opened the door, leaning against the frame to look at her.

"Yeah, I'm in Greenwich Village for a few days," Riley said, shifting the bag onto her shoulder. "It's a cute area—great energy, even if it's a little loud at night."

Joe nodded. "That's a good spot. You like New York?"

"I do," Riley said, smiling. "But it's not home. I'm based in LA for work, but I have a place in New Orleans that I love. I'm never there, though."

"Why not?" Joe asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Work keeps me away," Riley said with a small shrug. "I have to be in LA for studio stuff, meetings, all that. But New Orleans is where I'd rather be—everything feels slower there, more... real."

Joe tilted his head, studying her. “I don’t know if ‘grounded’ is the right word for you, but you seem like someone who needs something real. Something that keeps you from floating away.”

Riley considered that, rolling her wine glass between her fingers. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like knowing there’s something solid to come back to when I need it. What about you? Are you always on the road?"

Joe nodded. "Pretty much. Between the season and off-season workouts, it feels like I'm always going somewhere. But when I can, I like to spend time back in Ohio. That's home for me."

"Ohio, huh?" Riley said, raising an eyebrow. "Why there?"

"I grew up in Athens, Ohio," Joe explained, a fondness creeping into his voice. "After college, I wanted to be somewhere close to my family, close to where I'm from. Cincinnati made sense." He shrugged lightly. "Those roots matter to me."

"That makes sense," Riley said, her voice softening. There was something appealing about his attachment to his roots, his lack of pretension.

A notification on Joe's phone broke the moment, the soft chime signaling that her car had arrived. He glanced at it, then back at her.

"That's your ride," he said quietly.

For a brief moment, Riley considered saying something—suggesting they meet again tomorrow, asking if he'd be in LA or New Orleans anytime soon. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. A sudden awareness of the complications, the distance, the different worlds they inhabited.

But then Joe spoke, his voice low and warm. "I'd like to do this again."

Riley felt the butterflies in her stomach take flight at his words, her lips curving into a smile before she even realized it. "Yeah. I'd like that too."

Joe's shoulders relaxed, his smile widening slightly. For a second, neither of them moved. The space between them felt charged, and Riley wasn't sure if it was just her imagination or if he was feeling it too.

"When are you leaving New York?" she asked, reluctant to end the evening completely.

"Sunday morning," Joe replied.

Riley nodded, a small pang of disappointment mingling with the warmth in her chest. "I'm here until Saturday."

For a brief moment, Riley considered saying something—suggesting they meet again tomorrow, asking if he’d be in LA or New Orleans anytime soon. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but something held her back. What was the point in making plans when their lives were built around obligations that always came first? She’d been here before—trying to make something work between tour stops, fitting love into layovers. It never ended well.

Joe must have seen something shift in her expression because he took a step closer, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers lingered for just a second before dropping back to his side.

“We don’t have to have it all figured out,” he murmured, his voice steady. “But I know I’m not ready to let this go just yet.”

Riley’s breath caught at his proximity, at the intensity in his eyes that he’d kept carefully banked all evening. Maybe that was the difference. He wasn’t asking for guarantees, for promises she couldn’t make. He was just asking for now.

The moment stretched between them, taut with possibility. Then Joe stepped back, clearing his throat slightly as he opened the door. “Text me when you get back to your hotel?”

Riley nodded, oddly breathless. “I will.”

"Goodnight, Riley," he said, his voice low and warm.

"Goodnight, Joe," she replied, stepping into the hallway with reluctance that surprised her.

As she turned to go, Joe called after her softly. "Hey, Riley?"

She looked back, questioning.

Joe hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was thinking. But then he met her eyes and let the truth slip anyway.

"I'm glad I picked you. On Fallon, I mean."

A slow smile spread across her face. "So am I."

In the elevator down to the lobby, Riley leaned against the wall, replaying moments from the evening in her mind. The way he'd looked at her when he opened the door. The thoughtfulness he'd shown in preparing dinner. The ease of their conversation. The undeniable connection that seemed to grow stronger with every hour they spent together.

The cool night air hit her face as she stepped outside, the sounds and smells of New York enveloping her. As she slid into the waiting car, a text lit up her phone screen.

Joe: Just making sure you got in the car safely.

Riley smiled, her fingers typing a quick response.

Riley: Safe and sound. Thank you for tonight. It was perfect.

His reply came almost immediately.

Joe: I had a great time. We’ll talk tomorrow?

She glanced down at her phone, at his simple "We'll talk tomorrow?" that somehow felt like so much more than just words on a screen. Maybe this would end like all her other attempts at long-distance connection, crumbling under the weight of competing priorities and impossible logistics. Or maybe, just maybe, Joe Burrow would be the exception to every rule she thought she knew.

Either way, for the first time in longer than she could remember, Riley was willing to risk finding out.

#joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #jiley #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

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atinylittlepain · 11 months ago

Text

Prologue

jackson!joel miller x witch!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

He thinks he might fall in love with her. She can't let him fall in love with her. Or: a reimagined take on an infamous Practical Magic au by yours truly.

wordcount | 1.8K

series content info | 18+ slowburn-ish, strangers to friends to lovers to estranged acquaintances to ???, discussions of death and grief, a little magic, just a little, jackson era joel and all that entails, eventual smut, angst obviously, and love that requires a little elbow grease.

a/n | thank you folks for your patience while I was being a little worm about this. Very excited to kick off this series, and I'd love to hear what you think <3

....................................

There is the after, and there is the before. This is the before. In the before, there is a town nestled down in the purple-blue belly of a mountain, all shade and damp, cool green. A small town, everyone knowing everyone and everyone knew everyone as far back as history could reasonably stretch. And in this town sits a house at the end of a string of houses, sidewalk curling up in waves under the old force of tree roots, wrought iron gates and sleepy porches. Kids dare one another to step through the gate of this house. Only the bravest make it up to the porch, a quick clambering tap to the front door, wanting, but not really wanting, to see who might answer. All but one child, that is. She has no problem walking through the gate, but she’s learned to be quick in getting through the front door and slipping it shut behind her. The other kids like to throw rocks if she lingers, so she doesn’t. But there is always a sweet suspension of disbelief on the walk, before the gate, and the porch, and the slip through the front door. How nice, to have all her classmates walking her home after school.

“Did you get into any trouble today?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Well, always another chance tomorrow.” It’s just enough to coax a smile out of her, her aunt and all her tuts and tsks, turns of her nose and we need a brownie before we do your homework, little choice but to follow after her into the kitchen, warm and sticky, the smell of fresh yeast and something richer. Even now, even in the first gasps of Summer, a pot always boils on the stove, spoon stirring lazy inside it.

Her aunt moves like a bird she thinks. But not the delicate kind. She saw a blue heron once, at the lake outside of town. Like that, she thinks. Graceful but sharp, big and sweeping, the tails of a linen shirt, and the braid woven gray and black that hangs between her shoulder blades. All so familiar, she can’t help but sigh, cheek propped in the clammy cup of her hand.

“Something happened today.”

“You don’t say.” Her aunt, always knowing before she can tell her, sometimes even before she knows herself. She picks a chocolate chip out of the brownie split between them, holds it on her tongue and lets it melt.

“Andy Nichols broke his arm. He said there’s pins in his bones.”

“Is he the one who–” She nods before her aunt can finish her question. Yes, the one who never threw rocks at her. Yes, the one who would sit with her at lunch, not because his other friends dared him to, but because he wanted to. The one who, last week, sitting on the bleachers during recess, pressed a quick, there and gone kiss to her lips, all shy, all sweet, wings fluttering fierce in her chest. Yes, that one.

“Now he won’t even look at me. All his friends are saying I did something to him.”

“Oh, Maggie, I’m sorry. People can be, well, people suck, to speak plainly.”

“Did I?”

“Did you what?”

“Did I?” And the silence is enough of an answer, isn’t it? Her aunt’s eyes melt a little, lips pressed in a thin frown. Her aunt, who is as tired as she is, though she may do a better job of hiding it. After all, while she lost a mother, her aunt lost a sister. And the thing, that thing, this thing, that is threaded like a dark cancer through the sinew and snapping pulse of their hearts, contagious, careful or you’ll catch it. Everyone in town knows not to fall in love with a Campbell woman, a long history pocked with strange deaths, unexplainable misfortune. Her father wasn’t from town though, the first mistake of many.

‘It’s best if you don’t think on it, hmm?” Quiet and close in the kitchen, she does her best not to cry, feeling weak, a little wilted. One of those hugs that presses all the air out of her lungs, she needed it, breathing in deep, soap and sweat and soil and my little witch, we have work to do.

Homework doesn’t really mean homework in their house. Not the paper she’s supposed to be writing on the civil war, not studying for the math test she has on Friday. Homework means her and her aunt in the greenhouse, and her aunt quizzing her on the plants they tend to. What is what, what does what.

Lemon balm for stress and sleep. Also used to treat cold sores.

Echinacea for immunity.

Peppermint for nausea and headaches.

Belladonna for sleep, handle with care.

It comes easily to her, the same way that knowing things comes easily to her aunt. Plants, she thinks, make more sense than people do. It takes them a few hours to work through the greenhouse, night coming on in a swath of orange that smolders purple, cool shadows filtering in through green glass. They prune, they water, they propagate, and her aunt must think her extra pitiful tonight because she offers to teach her a few new tricks. The offer falls flat, however, when the prickled sound of scratching shivers up her spine. She knows it well, imagines that she could hear it from all the way across town at this point. The back door, nails skittering over its window panes, face pressed to glass, smeared shame, or maybe just a secret. All that’s needed, a look shared between them, no words. She stays in the greenhouse, closes the door behind her aunt, but leaves it cracked. She shouldn’t, but she likes to listen.

What she hears is always the same. Variations of desperation, I want, I want, I want, I need, I need, I need, him, him, him, her, her, her. How badly? So badly. Anything? Yes, anything. She’s watched a few times, peering around the doorway into the kitchen. All kinds of ways to meddle, to tangle threads, cut them loose, pick your poison, pick your pleasure. Her aunt tries to keep her away from it, the dark, crawling things, the needles, the wax dolls washed in smoke plumes. But she knows. Love is an ugly thing.

She doesn’t watch tonight, hardly listens either. Something else on her mind, in her hands. She plucks rose petals, lavender, rosemary, fills her hands with the rumpled things, says what she planned to say.

He’ll ride horses, talk to them too.

He’ll work with his hands.

There’ll be a streak of silver at his temple.

When we’re together, he’ll be able to stop time.

“Are you casting impossible spells again?” Her aunt catches her just as she’s stepping out into the backyard, damp grass and cicada thrum and the moon.

“I hope so. I hope it’s impossible.” They stand in the cool, damp grass, all that heat dropping down into a low mist around their ankles. And her aunt knows exactly what she’s doing. Afterall, she was the one who taught her this. Somewhere between a love spell and a prayer, though she hopes hers is more like a curse.

“There’s no taking something like this back, Maggie. Are you sure you want to do this?” She nods, says yes, and it’s enough for her aunt to stand down, giving her space to finish the rest of it. Intention, energy, that other word that people like to throw around She focuses on the words and the words become something other than words, and the petals and leaves lift from her hands. The moon takes care of the rest.

“I hope I never fall in love.”

The thing about spells is they always find somewhere to land, even the impossible ones. And somewhere in the before, that impossible spell found its target. Cupid’s arrow bent and broken, though still able to sting sharp. Somewhere in the before, a boy in another town in another life, young knees working hard to make the thin tires of a bike spin, already late heading home for dinner in the cooling night.

The boy’s mother hears him before she sees him, big, hot tears and ribs shaking with sobs she doesn’t often get to hear anymore, getting older, trying to get braver. The boy is bleeding, the boy is crying. The soft round of his palms scraped and stuck with gravel, and his knees no better, all down his shins, and he didn’t mean to cry, didn’t want to cry, but walking the rest of the way home, wrestling with the crooked handlebars of his bike, the feeling and the pain got too big, and he didn’t know what else to do with it.

“Oh honey, what happened?” His words come out in stops and starts, little stuttered gasps. I fell, gets strung into a few extra syllables, already ushering him upstairs and into the bathroom, the sharp smell of this’ll sting, cotton gauze getting stuck in the blood.

In the before, still young, the boy is a soft thing. He cries easily, and he doesn’t like that. Cries when he’s angry, when he’s hurt, when he’s frustrated. Cries harder when he cries because he wishes he wouldn’t cry, even if the words for such a feeling are still too old for him. Somewhere along the way, the boy will lose that. The boy will lose so much. But for now, his mother is making all the big and little hurts better, box fan humming in the cracked window in the bathroom, his brother, even younger, watching through the slivered opening of the door.

For now, the boy lets his eyes close, sticky with salt and the last wandering tears, and he wonders if he really saw what he thought he saw, what stunned him so snappingly that he flew head over handlebars onto the still-simmering asphalt. A blurred vision, blink and miss it, though even so, he’s still sure of what he saw. A rose bush, a sudden burst and bloom and flashbang, nothing and then something and then everything. Blooms that unfurled their skirts as fast as he was riding by, until what had been only green was blotted out entirely by heavy white petals. The boy will lose this memory with time, reasoning it away as an impossible imagining, something from a young mind that will no longer be his. But while the boy is still young, still a soft thing, he will think to himself with a kind of secret wonder that whatever he saw that night, it had to be magic.

......................................

taglist: @suzmagine @joelsgreys @vee-bees-blog @noisynightmarepoetry @kungfucapslock @iloveenya @evolnoomym @wannab-urs

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #apothecary gv

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lambsouvlaki · 2 years ago

Text

For the Hell of It - Anniversary

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,800

Summary: After two years together, Jason takes her out somewhere special for their anniversary.

Masterlist

It was mid morning when Jason called.

That was deeply unusual, this month especially. He had been so busy lately she barely saw him except for the days she got up and found him dead to the world on the other side of her bed.

Idly cataloguing the possible reasons for the call, Andy turned down the radio and stepped away from her laptop.

A serious injury? Unlikely, that call typically came from Alfred and would have happened three hours ago. Location compromised, maybe? Pretty good chance, although it wasn’t usually a call but an emergency alert telling her to get her ass out the door. Maybe he was loopy on fear-toxin antidote again and needed to hear she was still alive.

Most likely situation was Jason calling to tell her he was leaving the country, or the planet, or possibly the universe. Given the timing, it would be… well. Not crushing, but disappointing.

Two years into this relationship, she knew better than to get too precious about calendar dates.

“Hello?” she said with a jaunty tilt of her head. No pre-emptive sulking, she refused.

“Hey beautiful,” Jason’s voice came through the little speaker. It was warm and low. “I’ve missed your voice.”

Her eyebrows rose and relief lit up her face. “Did you just? I’ve got a presentation tomorrow that needs some rehearsing, want to listen to my dulcet tones talk about community support funding?”

He laughed. “I would actually, but I’d rather hear the whole story from the beginning. Are you free this saturday?”

“Hmm, am I free this saturday?” she drawled. “On our anniversary?”

“Yup, that saturday.”

“Why, yes, baby, I think I am. Why do you ask?”

“You’re not free anymore. I’m calling dibs.”

“Oh?” She dared to feel not just relief but anticipation.

“8pm. I’ll come get you.”

“Alright. How am I dressing? Steel capped boots? Running shoes? Ballet flats?” She had learned the vital importance of this question since going out with him. Jason’s plans were best faced prepared.

“Heels,” he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “Wear that slinky red number you hide at the back of the closet.”

She paused. Of course he’d seen it. “I’ve… never actually worn that before.”

“What did you get it for then?” he asked, teasing.

“Oh, you know. Maybe I’ll get invited to the Oscars.”

He laughed, low and promising. “I’ll make you feel like you did.”

She bit her lip. She was grinning like an idiot, alone in her own apartment. Two years in and she could still melt her with a word.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you Saturday, sweetheart.”

They hung up and she drifted to her closet, eyeing up the dress.

He couldn’t make their first anniversary. The planet was under an invasion while Bruce was off-world dealing with some other, separate invasion, so Jason and Dick split up cowl temping duties. Dick went to go play Batman with the Justice League and Jason stayed to play Batman in Gotham.

He was more than capable of it and the average criminal didn’t even realise there was a different guy under the cowl. They just thought Batman was feeling extra mean this month. But it more than doubled his workload.

It didn’t blindside her. They were both disappointed but didn’t make a fuss, they had a system in place for these things. Both made compromises and extended grace to the other, and their relationship was stronger for it.

All the same, when Saturday night rolled around and she heard the purr of a car rolling up outside, excitement fizzed in her chest like bubbles in champagne.

She put on her finishing touches and went out to meet him.

Jason waited for her in a perfectly tailored black suit. He didn’t fancy himself up very often, or ever, in fact. Having him dressed up was more of a luxury than the McLaren sports car he was leaning against.

She drank in the sight of him. He looked like he could put Brucie Wayne to shame. The smirk on his face completed the ensemble.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said.

She wore her floor length evening dress, with a halter neck and the most indulgent plunging neckline she had ever worn, to say nothing of the split in the skirt. It was also bright red. She felt a little shy in it, but it wasn’t a dress for hiding in. She had towering black stilettos on her feet and a lazy swing in her hips. She wanted him to look his fill.

His eyes roamed over her with open appreciation. They were shortly followed by his hands, settling on her hips. He pulled her to him.

How was he still so much taller than her?

He kissed her, slow and deep and hungry. She leaned into him. He luxuriated in her.

Her night was off to a wonderful start.

Once they could bring themselves to part, he helped her into the car, and drove them off into the night. She put her hand on his thigh. He interlocked his fingers with hers and drove one handed. Gotham’s lights flashed by as they left their native little corner of the city behind. They wound through the Diamond District.

They slowed to a stop in the courtyard of a softly glowing restaurant. There was a cellist playing in the foyer. She recognised the name in a looping font over the door. She’d read it on some list of world best’s.

“You did not get a booking here on Wednesday. Did you?”

“I booked a year ago.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t going to miss it twice.”

She squeezed his hand. A ‘thank you’ wouldn’t encapsulate just how much it meant to her. She knew the case he was working on wasn't wrapped up yet. He lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

She looked out the window at the people getting out of cars ahead of them. Doubt niggled at the back of her head.

“I may not actually be fancy enough for these people,” she confessed.

Jason scoffed. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna put everyone else here to shame.” He killed the engine and turned to her. “They should be grateful for the privilege of seeing you. I know I am.”

She smiled, ducking her head a little. He tilted her chin back up and looked into her eyes, leaning down towards her.

“You know these windows are tinted?” he said.

She snorted a laugh. He snatched a kiss.

“If you smudge my makeup, so help me.”

“Sweets, you know that’s a challenge.” He tipped her chin higher and kissed her neck, expertly dodging where she had blended her foundation into her skin.

She sighed. She loved this ridiculous man so much.

A valet tapped his window and Jason drew back with a sly grin.

He got out and came around to open her door for her. It was a necessity given how low the seats and how tall her heels were, but she was happy to lean into the fantasy as he took her hand.

Doubt was for behind closed doors. With the world watching she stepped out into the courtyard in a flutter of red silk and her chin held high. Jason slung an arm around her waist, resting low on her hip. They walked like they belonged because who the hell was going to tell them they didn’t?

They were welcomed in by the maitre d’ and led across the packed restaurant floor. Jason caressed the curve of her hip without shame.

She spotted the empty table their path led them to. Jason stiffend at her side.

At the table directly next to it sat another couple, presumably also on a date. Bruce Wayne and a gorgeous brunette with a pixie cut, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

Bruce glanced their way only briefly, and his expression froze.

Dread broke through his public persona for just a moment, a look perfectly mirrored on his son’s face. The collision course was set. Jason walked like he was approaching the gallows.

The brunette noticed the hiccup and looked back, revealing Miss Selina Kyle. She looked at Andy and rolled her eyes in commiseration.

“Actually,” Andy said, tossing her hair back and stopping in place.

The maitre d’ paused in his path.

“I would love to sit on the mezzanine floor. With the wall of flowers? It must be so beautiful.”

She ruthlessly silenced her internal scream over making a fuss. She was not surrendering her evening to Wayne bullshit. She got waxed for this.

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, the orchid display isn’t currently available, we are preparing an exciting new display for the spring after Poison Ivy-”

“It’s what I want,” she said pleasantly.

“Of course.”

The maitre d’ redirected them with perfect poise. He whispered in a passing waiter’s ear, and led them to the stairs.

Jason took her hand and squeezed it in silent thanks. The tension seeped back out of him. She squeezed back.

The mezzanine was comparatively quiet, with a giant print of Monet’s water lilies erected to cover some construction works. It had a lovely view of the rest of the restaurant however and the glinting chandeliers hung down over the main floor.

Table settings were arranged for them with a swiftness and subtlety even Alfred Pennyworth would approve of. Jason got to sit with his back to a wall and with sightlines over the entire pace, which always made him more comfortable. The table was small, they sat very close together, making it feel more intimate and private.

There were no prices on the menu and she didn’t grasp what the minimalist dish names actually meant. For a moment it filled her with a mute panic. Jason gave her a calm look and played with her hand on the table.

“We’ll have the chef’s menu, and the paired champagne for the table,” he said.

She was more than happy to be swept along. And she could pronounce the champagne better than the waiter, which calmed her fear of making a fool of herself. Jason managed to look exactly as at home here as he did while having a smoke on top of a dumpster in the Alley.

The food was all delicious, albeit in tiny portions on very large plates.

Below the table Jason ran his hand up her bare thigh, his fingers sneaking under the split in the dress.

She made eye contact as she licked the last of a creamy sorbet off her spoon. He watched with unadulterated focus. She ran her bare leg against his briefly, tastefully, and then retreated. He smirked at her. It was the smile of a man who knew exactly where his evening was heading.

He lifted his glass, with the last of its golden liquid in it. “To another year, beautiful.”

Next>>

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #for the hell of it #my fanfic #dc #fluff

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stitchedribs · 1 month ago

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ALL HAIL MY BLOG INTRO

⭐️ ~ Bonjour my lovely freaks, queers, hellions, and whatever the fuck you call yourselves !! This is my intro post bc I'd like to make some friends on here !!

🚫 ~ DNI ;; Homophobes, Transphobes, Racists, Pro-Shippers, Anyone under 16, Waycest shippers (plz seek help), and generally anything like that !!

⚠️ ~ BYF ;; This blog will totally contain crazy stuff !! I'm an unapologetic lil shit. Just a warning for sexual stuff, I suffer from Hypersexuality and a lot of my words are 100% unadulterated. Also if RPF isn't your thing then begon !! I don't take RPF seriously tbh but I warned you !!

❗️ ~ FYI ;; I'm a massive reblogger. If you ever get a reblog w me yappin in the tags just know that's my lingo. I'm weird !! I like yappin more in tags than in an actual post.

GEEZ YAP SESSION OVER!

Now onto me!

☆ ~ I go by Ribcage! You can call me ribs, fag, whatever, I don't care.

☆ ~ I'm transmasc, I go by he/they/it ! Masc titles are fine, and so are fem ones as a joke ! (ex: queen, diva, ifykyk) I'm also queer !!

☆ ~ I'm 18, I was born in 2006. What a time to be a newborn yk?

☆ ~ I'm not tested, and I'm not in a neurodivergent friendly state (Louisiana) so I'll probably never be ! But I'm 99.99% certain I'm autistic + I've got Hypersexuality (It's a trauma response, if you have any curiosities I'm totally up to answer them!! Just don't be a bigot.)

☆ ~ My biggest interest is music, as in music is my pimp and I'm the hooker on the corner working for ticket money. I listen to a SHIT TON of genres, but if you really really really dumb it down it's mostly rock, metal, and pop !! However I DON'T FUCK WITH TAYLOR SWIFT DNI DNI DNI !!!!!

☆ ~ I've also been writing ever since I was 12 (-ish??) I first started roleplaying on Amino (NEVER GO THERE), eventually I moved to twitter, discord, and even dabbled a little on here !! I mostly write ocs, but I also do RPF too !! I'm working on writing fanfics but it's not my strongest suit !!

☆ ~ I love graphic design !! Mostly the aesthetic side of it. I designed my whole layout !! Don't be surprised if it changes a lot because I'm constantly full of ideas !!

☆ ~ I like video games !! Silent Hill, Tormented Souls, Fallout 4, blah blah blah !! You can totally find me on Ponytown (My handle is Cobra Starship!! I usually hang out at spawn!!)

☆ ~ I'm totally friendly !! I'm open to asks, anons, private messages, and you can follow me on any of my other socials !!

My Spacehey !!

My Tiktok !!

My YTMusic playlist !! (WIP)

!! MY LIST OF INTERESTS !!

Music ;; My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, The Academy Is..., Leathermouth, Cobra Starship, Korn, Limp Bizkit, Black Light Burns, Phantom Planet, IDKHOW, Panic! At The Disco, The Young Veins, Pierce The Veil, Twenty One Pilots, Midtown, Gym Class Heroes, Pencey Prep, She Wants Revenge, Sleeping With Sirens, From First to Last, Linkin Park, System of a Down, Static-X, Deftones, Kittie, Chevelle, Charli xcx, Ayesha Erotica, Skrillex, Mindless Self Indulgence, KMFDM, and Greta Van Fleet, and more !!

People ;; Gerard Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, Mikey Way, Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, William Beckett, Dallon Weekes, Ryan Ross, Gabe Saporta, Travis Mccoy, Jon Walker, Spencer Smith, Brendon Urie, Jonathan Davis, Wes Borland, Tony Perry, Jaime Preciado, Vic Fuentes, Josh Dun, Tyler Joseph, Kellin Quinn, Sonny Moore, Chester Bennington, Wayne Static, Chi Cheng, Chino Moreno, Josh Kiszka, Sam Kiszka, Jake Kiszka, Danny Wagner, and tons more !!

General ;; Music, duh !! Horror movies, graphic design, art, games, writing, reading, animals, roleplaying, and other stuff I'll put in later ... XD

#intro post #pinned intro #panic at the disco #from first to last #fall out boy #my chemical romance #midtown #the academy is...#cobra starship #idkhow #pierce the veil #twenty one pilots #sleeping with sirens

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mochaaaaaaaa · 1 year ago

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♡🎀Intro Post!🎀♡

Hello!!! ♡ I am mochaaaaaaaa! You can call me Mocha, Dolly, Andy, or G'joob!!! I enjoy drawing, reading, writing, etc!! I use he/him pronouns!!!

🍬THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ME FIRST‼️‼️🍬

🍰 • Art requests take VERY long, so be patient please!!

🎀 • I really don't like admitting this but I don't like texting people tbh 😓 if you wanna art trade with me, do a collab or anything like that (or tell me something important that I NEED to know about now), then I'll respond!!!

🦭🦩 • I am the CEO of Yaw'joob!!! (Yawstrich x G'joob) and this will be mentioned a lot in my blog!!! (Just a little notice for those who don't like the ship and such)

☆ -🍼 • My memory is very very bad. I forget things all of the time, so I'm very sorry if I forget certain events, requests, repost or mention something I already mentioned before, things I ended up doing, etc. Please don't hesitate to remind me or correct me ❤️

🎀 My main oc and my kinsona reference sheets!!! 🎀

I would like to warn that this blog contains very bright colors in them. Please think twice before viewing my art if you're uncomfortable or sensitive towards things that contain very bright colors in them <3

More information about me will be below the undercut. Feel free to read! <3 🍨🍧

🎀Fandoms i'm in:🎀

☆🍼 • - Fandoms I'm mainly in

🎀 • Pink = I'm in, adore, will talk about often and/or always thinking about it often.

🥞 • Orange = I'm in. I love and adore the Fandom, but I don't really mention nor draw them as much.

🍒 • Red = Thin ice on leaving.

🍙 • Black = Left. Lost complete interest in.

🎀{☆°•♡🍰♡🧁♡🍨♡🍓♡🍼♡🍡♡🍧♡🎀♡🍄♡🍭•°☆}🎀

☆🍼 • , My Singing Monsters (Dawn of Fire included) , Cult of the Lamb, My little Pony (g4-g5 only), Wander over Yonder, and Dandy's World

🎀 • Spooky Month, Cookie Run Kingdom (Cookie Run imcluded), Cuphead, Bugbo, and Rayman

🥞 • The Amazing Digital Circus, and Centaurworld

🍒 • Dave and Bambi (Golden Apple included), Plants Vs. Zombies, and Madness Combat

🍙 • Happy Tree Friends, Danganronpa, Baldi's Basics and Education and Learning, Welcome Home, Rainbow Friends, Odd Taxi, Guilty Gear (XX and Strive), Pretty Blood, and Kaiju Paradise.

🎀Art Examples:🎀

🍡(These will be updated & changed through time <3)🍡

🎀Editing examples🎀

🍧(This will be updated & changed through time <3)🍧

🎀Other links/game info about me!🎀

🍒• Tiktok:

Will probably not be online there due to Tiktok most likely being banned.

🍥• YouTube:

I have quit my old yt channel (°•Mocha•°/mochaaaaaaaa9. It will never be updated again.)

🍡• Cookie Run Kingdom: ButterCreamBloom

🍨• Pinterest:

(HollyBerry server)

🍰•Discord: 👇

mochaaaaaaaa._10937

(My server has been deleted. Do not ask for the link.)

🍧• My Singing Monsters friend code: 👇

1044323573GD

🎀Dni list / Di list:🎀

🎀Please interact:🎀

My Singing Monsters fans, , Centaurworld fans, Madness Combat fans, Rayman fans, Spooky Month fans (basically those who are interested in my interests too), people who are looking for new friends, etc.

🍼 • In addition, I'm glad to say that my blog is safe and welcoming towards everyone part of the lgbtq+ community, straight people, those with disabilities, etc. <333

🧊Thin ice:🧊

People I know irl (not friends), Nsfw art blogs, etc.

🥩Don't interact:🥩

Homophobics/Transphobics, Rasict, Ableism, People who don't respect religion, proshippers, pedophiles, etc.

🥩 • If you perform or are part of these things, then please stay a whole dimension away from me, and get a life while you're at it.

ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི ྀྀི꒱ᐣ 𓊆 𓊇 ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི ྀྀི꒱ᐣ𓊆 𓊇 ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི ྀྀི꒱ᐣ𓊆 𓊇 ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི ྀྀི꒱ᐣ𓊆 𓊇 ᑦ꒰ྀིྀི

Thank you for reading! <3

#intro post #introduction #intro blog #introductory post #blog intro #artwork #art #ibispaint art #ibispaintdrawing #STILL IN PROGRESS #transgender

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miharuki · 2 years ago

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𝕽𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊/ 𝕾𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖈𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝕬𝖖𝖚𝖎

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:hi, I'm miharuki or just uki, and I make fanfic requests, my English isn't the best but I do it in English and Portuguese (Eng/ptbr)

𝐏𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐀̃𝐎:oi, eu sou miharuki ou só uki, e eu faço pedidos de fanfic, meu inglês não dos melhores mas eu faço pedidos em inglês e em português (Eng/ptbr)

𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖘:

★Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler

★Tate no yūsha no nariagari/The rising of the Shield hero

★Tensei shitara slime datta Ken/that time i got reincarnated as a slime

★Jujutsu kaisen

★Dr. Stone

★Tondemo Skill de Isekai Hourou Meshi Online

★Blue Exorcism

★Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

★Tokyo revengers

★Mashle:Magic and Muscle

★Uramichi Oniisan/Life Lessons with the Uramichi Oniisan

★Saiki kusuo no psi-nan/The disastrous Life of Saiki kusuo

★Death note

★Hypnosis Mic

★Kaiju no 8

★Diabolik lovers

★Hunter x Hunter

★Marginal #4

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕲𝖆𝖒𝖊𝖘:

★The legend of zelda (linked universe)

★Genshin impact

★Undertale

★Omori

★Yandere aimulator

★Sally face

★Yanderes games

★Amor doce/My Candy Love

★ the kid ind the back

★ 14 days with you

★The Coffin of Andy and Leyley

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕮𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖔𝖔𝖓𝖘:

★The owl house/a casa coruja

★Miraculos

★Hora de aventura/Adventure Time

★South park

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ────── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ──

𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒/𝕺𝖚𝖙𝖗𝖔𝖘 𝕱𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒:

★Creepypasta

★Happypasta

★Vocaloid

★Yanderes

★Crush boyfriend

𝕽𝖚𝖑𝖊/𝕽𝖊𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖘

•I don't do characters x characters/eu não faço personagens x personagens

•I don't make smut content about underage characters /eu não faço smut de personagens menores de idade

•I don't do any underage characters, the maximum will be between (Teen only (12+)/eu não faço personagens menores,o máximo será adolescente (12+)

•I only place orders in private /faço pedidos somente no privado

•Yandere characters are different from ocs yanderes or boy/girl yanderes/personagens yanderes são diferentes dos yanderes ocs ou yanderes garoto/garota

•I don't do fem x fem (I don't have much experience with that)

•Orders may take time due to me studying/os pedidos podem demorar por eu estar estudando

•I WILL NOT make fanfiction about characters from series or films/actors or etc., I don't do that and I will refuse to do any kind /•NÃO farei fanfics sobre personagens de séries ou filmes/atores ou etc., não faço isso e me recusarei a fazer qualquer tipo

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libbytwq · 8 months ago

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♡》 Bonjour fellow mortal organisms :] 《♡

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Welcome to my blog! 《♡

》 You can call me either Lore or Libby :] 《

》 she/her/any 《

》 🎂 Oct 4 (currently 17) 🎈 《

》 bi/ace, genderfluid 《

》 Maryland, USA 🇺🇸 (I am the white baby that shouldn't be talking like that) 《

》 Artist, Animator, Writer, Composer, Theatre Kid, Marching Band Kid 《

》 I make art, animation, and music! But mostly art and animations (I also sometimes write things) 《

》 Lately I've been on an SMG4 hyperfixation, so thats gonna be mostly what im posting about until im normal again (which will not be anytime soon) 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Things I Enjoy 《♡

》 Shows • "SMG4", "Murder Drones", "The Amazing Digital Circus", "Sonic Prime", "Ramshackle", "Lackadaisy", "Atlas and the Stars", "Hazbin Hotel", "Helluva Boss", "Don't Hug Me I'm Scared", "The Owl House", "Stranger Things", "Chikn Nuggit" 《

》 Movies • "Sonic the Hedgehog", "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?", "Chip n Dale: Rescue Rangers", "The Lego Movie" 《

》 Video Games • Minecraft, Frog Detective, Sonic the Hedgehog, Five Nights at Freddy's, Cuphead, Amanda the Adventurer, Andy's Apple Farm 《

》 Plays/Musicals • "The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals", "Black Friday", "Nerdy Prudes Must Die", "Hamilton", "Ride the Cyclone", "The Addams Family Musical", ""Les Miserables", "Puffs, or Seven Increasingly Eventful Years at a Certain School of Magic and Magic", "Mean Girls", "Twisted", "Firebringer", "Moulin Rouge", "SpongeBob SquarePants Musical" 《

》 Musical Artists • AJR, Tally Hall, CG5, Caravan Palace, Miracle Musical, Chappell Roan, Tom Cardy, Mystery Skulls, Jakeneutron, Jack Stauber 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Ref Sheets 《♡

》 Lore ref sheet 《

》 Main OCs ref sheets masterpost 《

》 SMGL:E ref sheet 《

》 speaking of SMGL:E, heres a masterpost to all their lore! 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Boundaries 《♡

》 DNI: MAPs, pedophiles, proshippers, groomers, racists, homophobes/transphobes, misogynists, nsfw accounts, porn accounts, anybody who promotes general hate speech 《

》 Please keep in mind that I am a minor. If you are a legal adult, please don't thirst for any of my personas or any of my minor OCs. (I rarely even draw thirst art for this characters, im not sure why you would do that-) Also do not request me to draw blatant NSFW. 《

》 If you violate these boundaries, you will be blocked. 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Inbox 《♡

》 Feel free to ask me things in my ask box! About my characters, my interests, art requests (maybe.... heavily depends on the request), or any general comments you feel the need to tell me! Just don't ask me weird shit. 《

》 Please don't spam asks or tell me to draw your character if we aren't moots. 《

》 I may be a teensy bit slow with asks but i promise i see every single one! I will try and get thru every one of them, just be patient with me! <3 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 Socials 《♡

》 My Reblog/Rant/Writing Account: @libbys-braincell-loss 《

》 My Carrd Website 《

》 YouTube 《

》 Scratch 《

》 DeviantArt 《

》 Wattpad 《

》 Unvale 《

》 ArtFight 《

》 Webtoon 《

》 Tapas 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 My Mooties 《♡

》 eh hes kinda cute ig i'll keep him /silly 《

》 Tomm Tired Smash Brothers 《

》 My Mango Is To Blow Up 《

》 NEO!!!!! 《

》 That Mf Who Keeps Asking For Hexore /silly 《

》 MatPat (Blue Version) 《

》 My Twin From Whom I've Been Separated At Birth 《

》 kyle from south park canonically 《

》 fREAK 《

》 the doodlerrrrrrrrrr 《

》 Average Shadow Enjoyer 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 My Main Tags 《♡

》 General Tags 《

》 #lore reblogs -- anything I reblog on this account, mostly @'s and fanart of my characters/AUs. 《》 #lore has the answers -- answers from my ask box! 《

》 SMGL:E (SMG4 OC/AU) 《

》 #smgl:e 《》 #smgl:e x karen + #smgloren 《》 #smgl:e ignatius 《》 #smgl:e x ignatius 《

》 Libby The Wolf Queen (My own original storyline/OCs) 《

》 #libby the wolf queen 《》 #libby campbell ltwq 《》 #haco lotus ltwq 《》 #inu quicksilver ltwq 《》 #ceecee skies ltwq 《》 #parca ltwq 《》 #ahren miller ltwq 《》 #taiyo soterios ltwq 《》 #nikki drossel ltwq 《》 #kuma nanuk ltwq 《》 #river lotus ltwq 《》 #ingrid drossel ltwq 《

-♡♡♡-

♡》 thanks for reading, have a swell day :] 《♡

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cosmicmunsonwrites · 2 months ago

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black friday, ch 1.

bjorn x fem!oc

cw — verbal fighting

author’s note — here is the first chapter of my story!! go check it out on wattpad as well. listed here

i do not give any permission for any rewrites or republishing of this story.

"𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺, 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯. 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦,"

AURORA carradine was exhausted. jackson's star was a cruel place to work with even worse mining laws. she admired her older half-sister, rain, for having so much hope that they'd be pardoned one day. everyone else pretty much accepted the fact that this would simply be their life for majority of their years if not the entirety. it was just how things in LV-410 went.

life wasn't always this draining though. when they were younger, everything was much easier. they didn't spend their hours drilling away in tunnels. you could only start once you hit 18. instead, they and their brother andy played for hours with their friends, tyler, kay, bjorn, and navarro, a few houses down. the seven of them were practically inseparable.

once the six of them were old enough to work, aurora was left behind for another three years. she was only 15 when her siblings would leave at the crack of dawn to join their friends for the mines. part of her was sad that she was left out, but a bigger part was glad she didn't have to endure the long work hours yet.

the seven still remained close for majority of their lives, even as most grew into their early 20's. they'd often hang out on free days, or late in the night after their shift, or just whenever they could find the time. they'd have campfires outside, watch movies, or just sit and enjoy the company of each other. that was until the big breakup between rain and tyler happened and the group naturally split in two.

considering kay was his sister, she stayed on her brothers side, even though the two sisters were her best friends. and since bjorn and navarro were siblings, but also cousins to tyler and kay, they also stayed with him. that left aurora, rain, and andy to themselves. at this point in time, the two groups haven't really talked in two years. they'll speak in passing, but things haven't been the same since. the six of them were now 25 while the youngest was only 22. they'd all grown in different ways and eventually lost contact.

although it saddened them all, they never really made any moves to rekindle that friendship. instead, they all went their separate ways. that inevitably led them to the point they were at now.

"rory? you home?" rain called out into the empty space of the living room as she entered the home she shared with her siblings. "andy?"

she took off her coat and hung it up before knocking on her sisters door. when she received no answer, she carefully opened it to find her sleeping figure laying in the middle of her bed. she smiled to herself and glanced around to find her hearing aids neatly placed on her bedside table. she very gently leaned forward to lightly tap her arm, carefully bringing her out of her nap.

aurora rubbed the sleep from her eyes as her gaze met her sisters. she blindly reached over to turn her lamp on and find her hearing aids, only to see them already in rain's hand as she held them out for her. she quickly set them into place in both ears. "thank you," she said gratefully, her voice slightly groggy and her english accent thicker than usual. "when'd you get home?"

"just now. i got off a little later than usual to try and work off some more of these hours," she explained, gently brushing some of the stray hairs off her sisters face. "is andy home? he didn't answer when i called him."

she nodded and scooted over to give rain some space to lay down. "yeah, i think he's in his room. he got back a hour or two ago."

the older girl shuffled under the comforter and laid on her side facing aurora. "how was work?" she questioned even though she already knew the answer.

"felt longer than usual. think i may have caught something again," she replied, referencing to the poisoning she got from the mines a couple weeks prior. "and you?"

she shrugged and sighed. "same as always. someone broke their drill today before i had left. i couldn't help but feel sorry for them."

aurora frowned. "can only imagine how many hours got added to their contract for that," she said. "this whole contract thing is a bloody nightmare. it's stupid and just cruel."

"i know, but we're almost there," rain replied comfortingly. "i think after tomorrow, andy and i will finally have finished our hours and we'll be free of all this. and you're not too far behind."

she knew her sister was only trying to make her feel better, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. even if she took on double the hours, she'd still have at least another 2-3 years left. she decided to switch the topic instead. "you ready to go?" she asked.

rain smiled and repositioned herself to sit up comfortably. "yeah. 'm gonna go check on andy and then we can head out. i suggest bringing a coat or something, it got a little colder tonight."

aurora nodded and followed her actions before getting out of her bed and heading towards her drawers to put on a pair of socks. she then slid her arms through a thicker jacket and zipped it up. this was a tradition they had. they went on walks every night, no matter the time, just to talk and enjoy time with each other considering most of their day was away from each other in the mines. sometimes andy would even join.

she finished lacing up her shoes and then headed out of her room to the front door where she waited for rain. once she joined her, the two began their journey. "what's andy up to?" the youngest asked curiously, stuffing her hands in her pockets to keep them warm.

"a new system update," she answered, looking around at the dimly lit colony they walked through each and every night. "its supposed to help him run smoother i guess. i told him he didn't have to, but he insisted it'd help him carry out his directive better."

aurora sighed and looked down at each step she took. "i feel really bad for him," she said with a frown. "i love him to bits but i just wish he could focus on living more instead of protecting us. he deserves better than what this life has to offer him."

rain nodded along. "i do too. he says seeing us happy makes him happy and knowing he's protecting us as our father wished, but it still hurts," she admitted sadly. "i just try to think about how we treat him the best we can, you know? we try to make him feel like he's as much our family as you and i are. helps me sleep a little better at night."

she chuckled under her breath at that and shivered slightly as the cold air bit at the skin of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. "do you reckon we'll ever leave this colony? perhaps to a new one where we can start a better life?"

there was a moment of silence for a minute, nothing but the sound of their footsteps and the wind. "i do. i have hope that one day we'll leave here and the three of us will be happier. i'm not sure when yet but i pray that its sometime soon," rain replied optimistically with a quick glance to her. "i know its easy to lose hope, rory, but i promise i'm gonna find a way out of here for us."

"i know, i trust you," she said with a gentle smile as they fell into a comfortable silence. the two thought it was nice to spend this time together, even if they weren't talking and they were almost freezing. being able to have each others company was simply enough for them.

they continued on an usual route today, one they hadn't taken in years, passing by all the smaller homes and some of the mines they'd previously worked in. it was weird to no longer work amongst people you'd spent years with. being sent to a different tunnel was like restarting all over again.

as they passed a particularly large home, aurora tensed and looked down at her feet. if her sister had noticed, she didn't say anything. the weight of atmosphere began to way on her much more than usual. "do you ever think about what happened?" she asked abruptly.

rain tilted her head slightly in confusion and looked to the younger girl. "what do you mean?" she questioned curiously. she could probably guess her next answer, but she was hoping she was wrong.

"with tyler?" she asked softly. the topic was still slightly sensitive but she needed to ask before it drove her insane. "do you ever think about what happened between the two of you? how it all played out?"

she sighed and stared into the darkness ahead of them. "sometimes, though i try my hardest not to," she replied honestly. "i wish it didn't happen the way it did. i wish we could've all stayed on better terms."

tyler had been through a lot. everyone knew it. the mines were working him, and working him, more than ever. he'd grown more irritable and the once sweet boy they all knew and loved, turned into a much more sour one.

he didn't care to spend his free time with everyone else anymore. he'd often dodge rain and make up excuses for why he couldn't see her. he just wanted some alone time to allow his mind to finally settle. it felt like his brain was working overtime and he was mentally drained.

"you alright?" aurora asked when he stormed into the living room of his shared home. he slammed the front door shut, making her jump and sink further into the couch. "tyler?"

"i just need a minute, yeah? can you give me that?" he snapped back sassily. his voice raised as he spoke. he didn't care that her lip trembled slightly, he didn't care that her once worried expression now turned to one of hurt. he didn't care about any of it. instead he stomped to his room.

he'd never treated her that way. he was normally the one to defend her, or talk to her when no one else would. he was always there for her. he was like her older brother throughout the entirety of their friendship and especially once he began dating her older sister.

"hey, whats wrong? we heard some loud noises," rain asked when she came down the stairs with kay following close behind her, both wearing the same expression.

aurora shrugged and cuddled closer to the blanket she was holding. "tyler just came in all upset, i don't know whats wrong with him. i tried asking and he just snapped at me. he said he needed a minute and stormed into his room."

kay rolled her eyes at her brothers antics. "he probably just had a long day at work. ever since his shifts got doubled, he's constantly in a pissy mood and he makes it every else's problem."

rain's brows furrowed. "i'm gonna go try to talk to him," she said before trailing off and following his path to his room. she knocked softly before slowly opening the door and slipping inside. he sat on the edge on his bed, hair disheveled and his head in his hands. "tyler? are you okay?"

"i'm fine," he gritted out through a clenched jaw. he didn't even glance up to look at her. "i don't need everyone treatin' me like some fuckin' ticking time bomb that's about to explode."

her eyes widened at that statement, slightly taken back. "we're not treating you like that, tyler. we're worried about you. you've been really stressed out lately and we all just want to help."

he scoffed and rolled his eyes, finally lifting his head to glare at her with a cold gaze. "you ever stop and think that maybe i don't want your help? that maybe i'm doin' just fine?"

"then don't take your anger out on everyone else. you say your fine then you go around hurting anyone in your path," she spoke a little more firmly, getting annoyed with his attitude that was directed right at her. "you don't even care that you hurt rory's feelings. the old you would've never done that."

he genuinely laughed at that. "the old me? the fuck is this? a movie? grow up, rain. people change, alright? maybe she shouldn't be so fuckin' sensitive over everything."

"do not talk about my sister like that," she said defensively. "it's not her fault. all she wanted to do was help and you yelled at her."

he pushed himself off the bed and took quick strides to stand directly in front of her, peering down at her intimidatingly. "i don't want any of your help, rain. get that through your thick fuckin' skull, yeah? i'm dealing with a lot of shit right now."

she attempted to gently grab his hand. "if you don't want my help, then at least talk to me. i understand you're going through a lot but you can't just shut me out. it hurts and it makes me wonder what i'm doing wrong."

he pulled his hand away quickly and looked around his room, biting the inside of his cheek to avoid her hurt expression before speaking. "i can't do this anymore, alright? i'm fuckin' exhausted and i jus' can't."

"what?" her lips parted and her face dropped. "i'm confused. what do you mean 'i can't do this anymore'?"

he pointed between the two of them. "i mean us, rain. i can't do this anymore, i don't want to do this anymore. it just feels like another chore added to a long list i already have."

she scoffed at his words in pure disbelief that he'd say something like that. "are you fucking kidding me? thats all you have to say? suddenly i feel like a chore to you and thats it?" he shrugged and kept his same cold glare. "you're unbelievable, tyler."

rain quickly exited the room, muttering to her sister that they needed to go. she didn't have the energy to say goodbye to the other members of the house, or even kay. she just needed to get home.

"i think if i was in the place i am now, back when it all happened, things could've been different. maybe we would've worked out and i wouldn't have treated him so badly when he just needed someone to be there for him," rain explained sadly.

aurora glanced over at her sister before pursing her lips into a thin line as she thought for a quick moment. "that wasn't your fault, rain. he was just in a rough spot and he didn't know how to handle it. it's not your job to fix him. you two did the best you could and it just didn't work out," she said comfortingly. "maybe one day, you guys will find your way back."

she smiled to herself and nodded, even though she didn't really believe that. "maybe one day," she repeated in a hushed voice. "and you? do you ever think about what happened with bjorn?"

"more than i should," she replied, just above a whisper. "i just wish things things could've been different. perhaps i could've gotten the closure i needed to at least move on."

leaning into his side, he tugged her a little closer with the arm that wrapped around her waist while the other that was holding her hand traced little figures on her skin with his thumb. she pulled the blanket over them a little more to keep them warm in the darkness of her room.

they sat in a comfortable silence as the movie in front of them played. the only thing she could really hear was the sound of his heartbeat in the ear that was pressed to his chest, yet she didn't mind. she actually enjoyed the soothing sound.

he was barely paying attention to whatever was playing. he could only focus on the soft weight of her head on him and the intoxicating smell of her shampoo. he wasn't sure where they were in their friendship, whether they were still just friends or more, but he didn't really care either.

unbeknownst to him, it bothered her much more. she hated not knowing what they called this little thing they had. she wanted nothing more than to just be with him. the amount of time they'd spent together have given her enough to gather a crush on him. whether it was surface level or much deeper, she wanted to explore that. she just wasn't sure what he wanted.

"y'smell good love," bjorn mumbled with a much more coarse voice than usual, breaking her out of her thoughts as the hand on her waist rubbed up and down slowly.

she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks as she cuddled deeper into him. "thank you," she replied gratefully. "tried somethin' new."

he nodded even though she couldn't see him. "i like it. suits you," he said before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

a smile took over her lips immediately as she tried to catch onto what was happening in the movie on the screen. "wait, why'd he do that?" she asked curiously when the main character shut the trap door on his partner.

"'m not sure. can't focus with you so close," he admitted honestly. he'd always been a natural flirt, though sometimes it teetered between flattering and mean teasing. it rolled off his tongue so easily.

she tilted her head up to look at him, the dim glow of the tv illuminating her features and the soft blush in her cheeks. "bjorn," she said, trying to sound serious but unable to contain her smile.

he licked his lips and squeezed her hand a little tighter. "what? have i made you blush?" he asked teasingly with a big toothy grin. she rolled her eyes playfully and turned in his grip, letting go of his hand and laying on her side. "oh c'mon, darling. don't be like that."

he followed her actions and pressed his body behind hers, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her body flush to his. "you're lucky you're warm or i'd have kicked you out by now," she mumbled even though her threat had no real bite to her.

he smacked his lips and chuckled to himself, his breath tickling her neck. "you enjoy my company too much to do such a thing," he whispered in her ear confidently.

"yeah? you want to bet on that?" she challenged before rolling back over to face him on her other side now.

he smiled softly and shook his head. "no, you know you'll always win, love," he said. a nice silence filled the air, despite the low volume of the tv ahead of them. it was comfortable and calming, just laying in the poorly lit room gazing into each others eyes. "my girl.. so beautiful," he complimented in a hushed voice.

it was things like that that confused her. he'd say 'my girl' but the moment she questioned what they were, he'd change the subject if allowed. he avoided the conversation like the plague. but she was desperate for answers.

hesitantly, she began. "bjorn?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper. she knew she'd more than likely get shut down once more but she was still willing to try. "can we please talk?"

she visibly watched his body tense. "love, i don't think this is a—"

she interrupted him before he could continue and shut her down. "please, bjorn. you've pushed it off long enough and i just want to know. that's all. if you want nothing more than a friendship then please, just tell me that. i just want to figure this out," she said as he voice began to wave with sadness. he took a deep breath before nodding hesitantly. she smiled gratefully. "thank you. i'll be right back, i just need to use the restroom."

aurora carefully crawled out of her bed and made her way to her bathroom. she didn't really need to go, she just needed a minute to prepare. she glanced at herself in the mirror and smoothed her hair down a bit then washed her hands. she sat on the edge of the tub for a minute or two, deciding on what to say before assuming she was ready.

she opened up the door, only to find her bed now empty. that would be the last time the two had ever shared a moment alone. they never really even crossed paths anymore.

"it just sucks, you know? felt like my world came crashing down in just a few minutes," aurora said, forcing herself to smile when she made eye contact with her sister. she couldn't remember the last time she'd cried that much in a single night. "i really liked him. i thought he really liked me as well."

rain felt her heartbreak for her. "i'm sure he did really like you too, rory. you know him. we all know him. he can be an extreme asshole majority of the time. he just probably got overwhelmed and didn't know what to do. you did nothing wrong. he likes to push people away. theres nothing you could've done to save that."

she bit her lip to stop it from wobbling. "i suppose you're right. it's just hard to stop thinking about it sometimes," she admitted.

"and that's okay," rain reassured her. "you're right. you never got that closure. so you're allowed to still think about it and feel the way you feel. and who knows, maybe one day you guys can find your way back," she repeated her words from earlier with a gentle smile.

aurora huffed out a breath and smiled down at the ground. "perhaps one day."

#gracie writes bjorn 💫#black friday bjorn #bjorn #bjorn alien romulus #spike fearn #spike #alien franchise #alien romulus

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ambasingresident · 1 year ago

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Decided to draw the OC's of the THSC community on Tumblr as characters from the TNO universe (THSC x TNO)

I drew the oc's present in the post based on the artstyle of each blog (or at least how I interpret it) and the theme I gave to each oc. Hope ya'll like and enjoy it. I'll probably draw a second batch of THSC oc's x TNO art if I can find any oc that I can draw, if you want to be included then just dm me (or don't).

@yunaisky 's Andy Postman and Frederick Cedric x The Red Poppy Movement

"The Tyrant-Fighting Boyfriends of Roue"

@bluetorchsky 's Accordion and Violin x The Humanist

"The Music Dragons of Shostakovich"

@rarestdoge, @smoresthehalloweenqueen, and @mai-mai-lim 's ABC Trio x Siberian Black Army

"Be Gay, Do Crime!"

@caruskie 's Carus x Free Aviators

"The Witch of the Urals"

@capturecharlesau 's Danny Felizima x Governorate of the Levant

"Capitano Luce Stellare del Levante (Captain Starlight of the Levant)"

@ceresfromnationstates 's Calvin Perez x South African War (US Inteevention)

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD MORNING SOUTH AFRICA!!!!!!!!!"

@m1mk1d 's Max and @itz-candikin 's Lexi x Buryatia

"Le Holesom Mutineers of Sablin"

(Tbh I had fun drawing all of these, will look forward in making a project like this)

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atinylittlepain · 1 year ago

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Split Seam

steve harrington x f!oc

part of the girl boy series

18+ allusions to smut, stuffy family dynamics, overall just a fun time tho

a/n | marriage done the standy way, this was fun to write :')

...........................................

It’s raining in Philadelphia and chocolate hearts are on sale at the CVS down the block from his apartment. Valentine’s cards too, pink and purple and red and everything must go. He buys a bottle of seltzer and a chocolate rose. When he gets to the station he unwraps the red tinfoil and takes a large bite out of the bloom. He’s starving, didn’t get lunch at the office today with the usual end of the week scramble of numbers and numbers and suits and numbers. But he’s only got an hour and change on the train. He can hold out, Hershey’s aside.

He’s done this train ride sixty-two times now. This is number sixty-three, but he’s not keeping track. All he knows is that it still feels like relief when he’s seated and the train starts moving. It’s always felt like a relief to be moving in the same direction as her again.

They’ve gotten this right, he thinks. As right as they possibly could, at least. The first year of what Andy called moderate-to-long distance was hard. Awkward phone calls with long swaths of silence, calls that were missed altogether, crossed wires, cataclysmic blowouts that were and weren’t about the things they argued about. But they’ve made it this far, nearly two years of this perpetual back and forth ache that’s only soothed with train rides, with closing that gap.

There’s been three apartments in New York, and he’s pretty sure he likes this last one that she’s in the best. Greenwich Village, old brick and pock-marked sidewalks and tall windows that wash warm over lightwood floors, and he likes being the one making this trip because he likes getting to see her in a space that feels like her. And he likes this too, the same as the first sixty-two trips, she’s waiting for him at the station, that brief moment, miracle, within which he sees her but she doesn’t see him. Checking her watch and running a hand back through her hair, in her brown leather coat, sharp and smooth and too cool for a banker from Philly, but she’s here for him, smiling big, smiling everything when her eyes finally catch his.

This always the same too, a soft, sweet rejoining, her hand curling at the nape of his neck, other arm slung over his shoulder and here, here, she presses her lips to his cheek, her nose sliding in line with his and hi, baby, another kiss, quick, and he’s home.

“They have you staying late again, don’t they? Or did you get all dressed up just to see me?” Little tug to his tie as they thread through throngs of people, out into the cool damp night in as close of a tangle they can be without getting heckled for it on the street.

“Catch-up from the holidays, or at least that’s what everyone keeps saying.”

“Right, right, crunching numbers and murdering secretaries American Psycho-style?”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Little squeeze to her hip, little mean as they continue their walk back to her place. Her grin gets lit up by the neon creeping into the oncoming night.

“Kidding, your colleagues however, well, yeah.” Well, yeah, Andy had come into town right before Christmas to go to his company holiday party with him, and had gotten into not one, not two, but three verbal altercations with his co-workers about the invisible labor of women, as well as the recession. Not that he would admit it, but he had been impressed, and maybe a little flustered, watching her hold her own amongst the suits. They had left early on account of said flustering, as well as the little snap he had given to one of the suits who told him something about needing a muzzle for that one. The partition in the company-ordered limo was raised when they got back into it, the green velvet of her dress hiked up and up and up exposing sheer black nylon and skin, and they both had forgotten all about the suits and the snap by the time they got back to his apartment. He still gets a little hazy, sweet gauze in his mind when he thinks about it.

“How are the feminists this week?”

“Oh you know, angry, hairy, generally awesome and oppressed. I turned in my third draft on Wednesday.”

“That’s amazing, honey. It must feel good to be almost finished.”

“It feels good to finally get my advisor off my ass. Bigger and better things, et cetera, et cetera.” He knows not to ask after bigger and better, having made the mistake once of asking if she had heard back from any of the PhD programs yet. She had smiled a watery thing, and promptly dissolved into a pool of sound and tears, too much, don’t ask. She’ll tell him when the news comes in, he knows, though there still remains a selfish slice of him that hopes and hopes and hopes UPenn comes back with a yes, and she answers with a yes too. But for now this is enough, here, and stopping her on the stairs up to her apartment to press a curved kiss to her mouth, so proud of you, honey. She beams, scoffs, thank you, and it drips with sheepish sweetness, her eyes rolling up to hide the truth of it, but he still catches it, lets her believe he doesn’t when she tugs him into her apartment.

It’s true what they say about absence and fondness, at least in the case of Sylvia, who lately has been greeting him with a desperate peel of cries, twining around his legs with such a fervor that he has to try hard not to trip over her. No petting though, she still likes to scratch if it isn’t on her terms.

“Nice flowers.”

“Thank you, someone sent them on Valentine's day.” A veritable flame of roses sits preening in a vase on her kitchen counter. He had asked for the biggest, the best, no expenses spared because he’s making money now, real money, and any gifts for her have to be a sneak attack because of it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm, you better watch out because it looks like you have some competition from another suitor.” She lays the accent on thick, her family’s accent, soo-tah, throws in a waggle of her fingers, ring glinting for good measure. The ring, and the whole ordeal of it. There had been no family heirlooms left to ask Frank and Kitty Broder permission for, just a nervous conversation the day after Thanksgiving, the one before last, sweating hard beneath his collar and hands shaking. Because while Andy is anything but traditional, Steve picked up pretty fast that this was not quite the case with her parents. A fiance of the second oldest had clued him in on as much the first time Steve was brought home to meet the family, summer break and a big reunion, plenty of hands to shake and names to forget. And the second oldest’s fiance had sidled up next to Steve with a sloshing glass of prosecco and the grin of someone who had figured this whole production out. Somewhere between the mafia and the Vatican, you do the math, man.

Frank was unmoved, tolerant of the idea at best, considering him over the dark rims of his Buddy Holly-esque glasses, a stylish man, tall and thin man with a slick of gray hair and a thick gold ring that could blind you if it flashed the wrong way. He only had one question for Steve which, mercifully, he could answer correctly. Yes, he told Frank, raised Roman Catholic, though he left the non-practicing part out. Meanwhile, Kitty was already designing the invitations in her mind.

And that wasn’t even the hard part. Because yes, hasty by some judgements (Eddie’s), and unlikely by other judgements, given Andy’s views (Robin). But he knew, he knew, spent a few months looking for a ring in the evenings when he’d get off work. When he did find one, he didn’t even wait a week, letting the black velvet box burn a hole in his pocket on the train ride to New York that very same weekend. And the proposal itself was simple, no fuss or fanfare, if not a little nerve-wracking. He spoke honestly, plainly. He spoke love. And he’s never known relief like he did when she smiled and told him there’s no one else I’d ever say yes to, baby. So maybe it’s hasty, and maybe it’s all skewed a little unorthodox. But it’s theirs.

“They better act fast then, got that appointment tomorrow and all.”

“Did you bring all your documents?”

“Driver’s license, social security number. We’re set, honey.”’

“I’m still not changing my last name.”

“No, I know, I don’t care about that.”

“My mother is pissed about it, apparently so is yours.”

“I think when all this is said and done, those two are gonna leave their husbands and move in with each other.”

“God, that’d be good for them, or maybe terrible.”

“Little of both, probably.” One of the stranger outcomes of this whole wedding thing, the alliance that’s formed between Diane and Kitty. Though maybe not that strange, he thinks, certainly plenty of common in between them. At the very least, this wedding wouldn’t be happening next month without the pair of them leading the absolute battle charge of planning they’ve accomplished. Kitty’s words, knowing my Miranda, she’d be happy with a shotgun wedding in Reno, and Andy hadn’t disagreed, happy to leave all the cake and the flowers and the tulle up to their mothers. Steve was more than happy to stay out of the fray too.

“You didn’t eat lunch, did you?”

“How can you tell?”

“Steve, you never eat lunch. I ordered Thai before I left to get you,Tom Kha Gai and egg rolls, the usual. It should be here soon.”

And the rest of the evening is very boring, very mundane, a third-floor window lit up warm, and framed inside of it, them on the couch with a smattering of takeout boxes. His tie undone and hanging loose around his neck, top three buttons of his shirt popped as well. Warmth and salt and sour sating him, he goes slack when she tries to teach him how to properly hold his chopsticks, moreso enjoying the feeling of her hands fidgeting with his fingers, her careful concentration. He goes right back to using a fork when she’s finished, grinning at the roll of her eyes. And afterwards, stomachs full and eyes heavy, worn weary from their respectively long weeks, they get into the shower, all kind touch, simple pleasure, her fingers kneading back along his scalp and his hands soaped and slipping over her skin, working into the spots that he knows ache, satisfaction in her sighs.

Soon, he thinks, hopes, this won’t be a thing they have to ration, all this touch, all this sense, all this closeness. This will simply become the thing they do every night, getting into bed together and talking about things that don’t really matter while their bodies relearn one another. He wants these things in a near dizzying way, big, bold, brazen want that simmers and sighs in her presence, tired kisses, and it’s enough, her hand in his hair, and it’s enough.

He wakes up the next morning bleary-eyed with want, eager for this early morning appointment at the county clerk’s office, because this is another step, big step, making it even more real step. They both seem to feel it, quiet over the rims of their coffee mugs, smiling, and what? What? What’re you smiling about? It’s a big day, isn’t it? Yeah, nervous? No, you? Not at all, no. And he means that when he says it. There are few things in his life that he has been so certain about.

And yes, maybe they had a romantic idea of how this would go, but it really is just paperwork in a dimly lit cubicle, and signatures here and here and yes, wedding will take place within sixty days. Steve tries to make a joke about cousins, and is only met with a blank look from the clerk, and a swift side-eye from Andy.

But when the paperwork is signed and there’s a manilla envelope with their wedding license in his hand, there is a lightness, a lift, a giddy kick, like kids getting away with something when they leave the office. Tucked in close to each other, a little oblivious, and maybe a little obnoxious, and a man walking the other way lets them know as much, bumping right into Steve’s shoulder and watch it! And without missing a beat, Andy’s head whipping around and hey, fuck you, we just got married! Which, well, technically not, but it still makes them both laugh a breathless thing, wild, wind-bitten smiles. And they’re still running on all that flare and fluster when they get back to her apartment, open-mouthed kisses and greedy hands and she has to hold him back by the lapel of his coat to grin an awful thing and you wanna see the dress?

“You have it?”

“Yeah.”

“Like, here, right now?”

“Yes, Steve, it’s been fitted and everything. Locked and loaded and ready to blast me off into marital bliss with you, et cetera, et cetera. Now, do you, or don’t you, want to be the first, the very first, to see it on me in all its matrimonious glory?”

“Isn’t that bad luck?”

“Baby, please.” She groans, pressing her forehead against his, and really, he’s just giving her a hard time, because he knows what this means to her, beneath all the snark. The first to see it before anyone else, before the rehearsal, and the aisle, and all the family that neither of them really care to have present. A moment for them, just for them, and no one else.

“You really want me to see?”

“Mmhmm.” Quiet, crackling murmurs, whispered between smiles.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like to see.”

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” And so he does, a little shake in his hands, a little burst and batter of his heart against his ribs. Nervous now, and he’s not sure why, the ticking of the clock pulling taut and loose all over like melted taffy. And then, and then, the padding of bare feet, and the hard rush of blood in his ears, and the sweet exhale when he does finally see her.

“Honey.” Bordering on pained, the word is said with a sigh, and he’s not going to, no, no, just a little flush of heat behind his eyes and in his throat and Andy’s baby, don’t cry makes him sniff hard and swallow, his hand settling on her hip when she steps closer between his legs. Smooth white silk and simple, and her hair is still gathered in the clip she tucked it up into this morning and she’s still wearing a smear of Vaseline on her lips and she’s the best thing he’s ever seen, he thinks. Tells her as much and she smiles big, chin tucked down and her thumb stroking along the column of his neck where her hand is loosely curled.

“Well, thoughts?”

“Wow, just wow, yeah, no other thoughts.” He knows she’s going to start wilting under any more compliments, never one for them, a warbly Steve that makes him smile, squeezing at her hip, coaxing her to c’mere, c’mere, even as she resists his pull.

“If you fuck up this dress we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Not gonna fuck it up, just come a little closer. I wanna, uh, look at the stitching.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Even as she says it, her smile is starting to slip and spread, another shuffled step closer as his hands splay across her low back, and lower, and lower, and a squeeze that’s just a little mean, making her laugh while he starts to hike all that silk up and up into his hands.

A few weeks later, when he’s met with the sight of her in that dress in a very, very different context, all he can think about is that afternoon. No one will ever know that he got to see her first in that dress, before anyone else. Nor will they know that they spent the rest of that afternoon splayed on her living room floor with the fabric of her dress bunched up around her hips and his hands curled into the plush of her thighs and his mouth, open and taking, watching the dip and fold of fine fabric, the arch of her back, pleasure for pleasure’s sake. No one will know that in the after, his hips stilled and flush against hers, both of them panting and preening into each other’s kisses, they found the smallest tear at her hip, and that she couldn’t be mad about it, not even a little, when he sunk back down between her legs and laid his apology at the open hinge of her hips.

He’ll find that tear again, when the vows are said, and the family and friends are clapping, and they’re walking down the aisle together, his hand on her hip. He’ll find the tear then, the perfect secret shared between them in a quick glancing smile.

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