#but anyway here’s the Carters I did this last night

[rainbowspinch]

Get Openbound Sprited you devious motherfuckers

[jetblack4realz]

damn bars - yellowstone boys

how the yellowstone (& 1923 too) boys react to you getting hit on at the bar

kayce, rip, ryan, carter, spencer

word count total: 5k

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kayce dutton:

you had gone out to the bar for one reason and one reason only: to dance.

you and kayce loved to dance, but you didn't get many opportunities to. so, when one night john took tate for a sleepover, winking at you as he pulled the boy away, you decided to get out there and swing away like you were teenagers again. you grabbed beth and rip to come too, knowing they'd appreciate getting out even if they didn't dance - would rip ever dance? probably not.

it was fun for the first little bit, all the good swing songs playing as he twirled you around the wooden dance floor. you pulled out old tricks he forgot you knew and he twisted and flipped you into cool routines you forgot he knew. when you decided to take a break, kayce heading to the bathroom while you ordered a drink, you just knew something was going to happen.

but, you ordered anyways, eyes on where beth was shaking her ass away to the fun country music playing and where rip was watching her with the fondest smile you'd ever seen from him.

the bartender slid you your drink. you smiled. "thank you."

he nodded at you, walking down the bar to attend to another customer as you leaned your back against the counter, eyes back to your sister-in-law.

"you've really been busting a move out there."

you turned to see a man, taller than you but definitely shorter than kayce, bigger, with a brown hat and black boots. he wasn't necessarily attractive and there was just something about him that made you want to scrunch your nose, so you did.

"yep," you hummed, sipping on your whiskey.

"you've only had the one partner. i'm sure i could show you some moves if you're looking for a new one," he said, glancing to the side as a smile pulled up one side of his mouth. "i don't see him here anymore."

"he'll be back," you told him, setting your drink down and looking him over again. "and even if i was looking for another partner, you don't look like much of a dancer, buddy."

he knitted his brows at that, looking down at you with a curious smirk on his lips. "spicy. i like that."

you wanted to throw up.

"don't call me that," you said. "that was gross."

"oh come on, darling," he said, shifting so he was more in your view. "just one dance? he'll never even know, he ain't here."

"he is." you held up your ring finger, flashing the rock that was your wedding band at him. "i ain't going with you buddy."

and that was when he grabbed you, hand on your hip as he pulled you into him. he smelled like bad beer, cheap cologne, and straight b.o. you instantly pushed away even as he held you tighter, speaking now: "one dance, baby. life is too short to only dance with one man the rest of it."

"life's too short to dance with ugly men," you retorted, scrunching your nose again as you finally, very forcefully pushed him away from you, backing towards where you knew rip was last standing. except he wasn't there.

you looked at the dance floor and your mind was blown. of course the one time rip wheeler decides to take to the dance floor was when you were actively being harassed at the bar.

the guy didn't like your answer and stepped towards you, mouth open to say something before another figure stepped in front of you, one you knew very well. especially since you'd picked out his shirt. you breathed a breath of relief as he glanced back at you, checking you were okay before returning a much more menacing gaze to your advancer.

"i don't know what you've said or done thus far, but the way my wife is lookin at you doesn't look very good for you," kayce said, his eyes turned in a glare as he stepped towards him.

"look, man, all i wanted was a dance, not anything more-"

"a dance is still too much to ask for, especially when she's already said no," kayce said sternly. "leave. now."

"what, like the whole-"

"i'd really love a reason to punch you and if you keep talking you're gonna be giving me one," kayce warned, but the guy didn't get it apparently because he kept going.

"hey, man i didn't do anything-"

kayce looked back at you. "he touch you?"

the moments between you nodding and kayce full on clocking the guy in the jaw went by in literally the blink of an eye. the man stumbled back and kayce swung again, effectively knocking him to the floor. he kicked him then, the man folding in half with a groan. kayce moved to do it again when you grabbed his arm.

"baby, let's just get out of here," you told him. "i don't need you getting in trouble."

"i'm the livestock commissioner, i'll be fine," he said.

"well, then, just..." you moved around him to where the dude was sprawled on the ground, looking up at your husband in fear as some blood tricked from a cut in his lip and also between his teeth. everyone in this town knew kayce dutton could throw a punch.

you stomped on his hand then, hard, earning a shout and an instant recoil. you could've sworn you felt a crunch under the heel of your boot when you did.

"so you can't grab any other girls anytime soon," you said before turning on your heel and grabbing your husband, who looked like he was chomping at the bit to get back to pummeling him. "c'mon, baby."

but, tonight was supposed to be fun. when you pulled him out the front door for some fresh air and maybe to bar hop, you thought to remind him of that. you turned to him with a smile, hand cupping his face just below his jaw. "c'mere, cowboy." you kissed him slowly, his hands falling to your waist almost instantly as he folded to your touch, returning the kiss eagerly.

when you pulled back, he kept you close, kissing you again.

"thank you," you breathed out when you finally broke again, smiling up at him. "i can always count on your mean right hook to get me out of any bad situation."

"i practice it just for that," he said quietly, pecking your lips again.

you laughed lightly. "seriously, thank you though," you said, wrapping your arms around his middle as you relaxed in his hold. "for saving me."

"i'll always save you," he promised, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "and i'm never going to the bathroom while we're out again."

rip wheeler:

to get rip to go out was a chore. it usually took some promising of later nightly activities and some chanting and begging from the wranglers too. and when you finally got him there, he wasn't exactly interactive, mostly just watching you dance and getting you the appropriate amount of refills to keep you semi-aware.

aware for situations like this.

you were dancing the night away with teeter, hands in the air as you laughed and jumped and twirled with your favorite of the cowboys, glancing up at rip regularly to shoot him a wink or shout something about how great his ass looked in those jeans, when suddenly you felt hands on your waist.

you spun around, brows shot straight up as you swatted this strange, tall and skinny man who oddly reminded you of a drugged out, dark haired jimmy, man away from you, stepping back and bumping into teeter. "damn you're ballsy, dude," you said. he stepped back to you, his hands landing on your waist again, fingers brushing over the waistband of your jeans as teeter grabbed your shoulders and helped you shuffle away. "seriously, get off!"

"hey, come back here, baby-"

it was instinctive, really. your father had taught you how to throw a proper punch and rip had taught you the best places to throw it, and well, the first one that came to mind was the throat.

he staggered back with a choked breath, hand rising to his jugular as he stared at you with wide eyes. "you crazy bitch!"

"did you seriously just call me the bitch?" you said, stepping towards him now with your hand balled into a fist.

but, before you could throw another punch and before the psycho dude could fully recover, rip was now in the picture. two extremely well-placed punches sent the creep into the surrounding crowd. no one did or said anything for a few moments, everyone having seen him grab you and insinuating exactly who rip was in this situation.

he turned back to you, grabbing your hand tightly and sending a look teeter's way that had her collecting the rest of the wranglers, who had all suddenly appeared at your side.

"let's go," he said strictly.

"can we go to another bar?" you asked as he dragged you out of the facility and towards the truck. he let out a short laugh.

"there's no way in hell i'm letting you back into another bar anytime soon," he said. "if another psychotic bastard thinks he can put his hands on you i can't promise that i wouldn't kill him right then. it took a lot of restraint not to keep going in there, baby."

"rip, come on, let's have fun tonight - woah!"

and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder in a fireman carry. he barely even stopped to do it, just scooping you up and continuing on to where he'd parked the truck.

"nope," he said. "and anyways, there's other ways to have fun." he pulled the door open and set you on the passenger seat with a smirk. "you have a couple promises to fulfill for even dragging me here in the first place."

"damn," you mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, shutting the door and crossing to the other side. as he got in and buckled, you looked over at him with a bit of a dopey smile on your lips. "have i told you i love you recently?"

"i'm sure you have, baby, but i'm happy to hear it again," he told you, smiling your way as he started the truck up.

"well, i do love you. and thank you. that sucked."

"and it ain't ever gonna happen again on my watch," he promised. "he really just snuck up on you there."

"literally crazy."

ryan:

you weren't much of a games girl, which everyone thought was weird given the man you were with. but, you were content to watch, to sit at the bar conversing with the wranglers who weren't involved in the game of pool or dancing, and to watch colby crash and burn as he approached girls again and again.

that last one was your favorite activity.

every now and again you would wander back over to where ryan was playing lloyd or jake, cheer him on, give him a quick kiss, and then return to the designated spot colby kept coming back to after another failed attempt at wooing a tourist.

the tourists were funny too. you could always tell which ones had just bought their hats and boots before or even while they were in montana just to blend in. some of the girls were wearing such california things you wondered if they were wanting to blend in at all, which the answer was no. colby, and plenty of other cowboys, liked the tourists. or at least, for a quick one.

you were watching him with a grin as he stumbled on his words with a pretty brunette, sipping on your drink casually. he was using his hands to emphasize something and she did not seem like she was interested in that something at all. you giggled to yourself.

"you like people watching?"

you glanced to your side to see a shorter man with spiky blond hair at your side. this guy didn't even take a try at a hat, sticking it with bright and shiny new black tecovas with a pointed toe and a snakeskin design that was so opposite of what you were used to.

you didn't think you'd ever been turned off more by a boot.

"yeah, i do," you nodded, looking back at where colby was actively losing his chosen girl's attention. "it's entertaining."

"it is," he agreed, taking the seat next to you. "you from around here?"

for some reason, you laughed. you guessed it was because he was so obviously not from here that for him to ask you if you were was just funny to you. "yep. you ever heard of the yellowstone dutton ranch?"

"it got anything to do with the park?" he asked.

you laughed again before taking a sip of your drink. "no. around here, when people talk about the yellowstone, they're talking about the 800,000 acre cattle ranch just outside of town owned by the livestock commissioner and the oldest family in montana."

he seemed shocked, but he tried to get through it, continuing his little q&a. "you're from there?"

"it's my family that owns it," you answered easily.

"and what's it like owning 800,000 acres of some of the most coveted land in america?" he asked, tilting his head at you. if you hadn't before, you definitely piqued his interest now.

you shrugged. "it's a lot of work, but it's worth it. it's beautiful."

"lonely, though, i bet," he said, and that made you laugh again. wow, he really tried that one.

"no, actually," you told him. "need a good amount of people to run that ranch. don't get too much time to yourself."

"do you want time to yourself?" he asked.

"i'm good with what i've got, thank you," you told him. you looked over at where ryan had caught sight of your predicament and was making his way over to you. you stood, shooting the man at your right a polite smile. "one of the cowboys we've got is particularly attractive. i'm entertained enough, don't you worry about me."

he saw ryan then and stood as well. "i wouldn't say he's particularly attractive. you could do better."

"are you suggesting yourself?" you asked with a laugh, holding an arm out to wrap around ryan's waist as he came to your side, pressing a kiss to the side of your head before eying the man in front of y'all. "sorry, pal. you may be decently cute, but you ain't no cowboy. if you're looking to get lucky in this town it'd do you good to remember that. shoot for your own kind."

the man looked up at ryan. "you her cowboy?"

"damn straight," ryan answered. "you better take that advice. a lot of the cowgirls you'll see around here anyways are taken, you're asking for a fight talking to 'em. you're just lucky she played nice. it's the only reason i am too." ryan nodded, tilting his hat at the man before stepping away and bringing you with him. "best of luck. just not with my girl."

he took you back to the pool table with him where lloyd was laughing at the sight of you. he pressed another kiss to your head.

"did you really have to call him cute?" he asked you.

"decently cute," you reminded with a shake of your head. "i called you particularly attractive, which is an understatement. i just didn't wanna shake the guy's confidence down too much. those boots are doin that enough for him."

ryan laughed. "damn tourists."

carter:

nearly everything carter did reminded beth of how rip was at that age. and nearly everything you did as you consistently visited reminded her of how she was at that age.

it had her worried and excited.

"don't break his heart," she told you one day, cornering you after lunch. "i've been there, i've done that, it's terrible for everyone involved. save yourself the trouble and just snag him now, you know you want him and he wants you. just date, okay? and don't be a bitch later."

the words shocked you, but definitely kicked you into gear. carter was shier than you ever were, awfully polite and gentlemanly as beth had trained him to be, and so you were the one to get him into going to the bar.

"will we even get served here?" he asked, holding your hand as you led him in.

"hell yeah we will," you answered, smiling back at him as you approached the bar. you were quick to pull out your id - a fake one, but one nonetheless - and slide it to the bartender. "an old fashioned please."

"what about me?" carter whispered.

you laughed lightly. "just get your id out, darlin'."

confused but obedient, he pulled out his wallet and was surprised to see a new driver's license in the clear slot he usually kept his in. one that said he was 21.

he held it up as he cleared his throat, catching the bartender's attention. "make that two." he looked back at you. "these any good?"

"i think so," you answered with a shrug. "you ever have bourbon before, or just beer?"

"just beer," he nodded.

"well, hopefully you'll like it," you said with a shrug. "i've seen your dad make them back at the ranch. i'm sure you'll like them."

"oh, he's not my dad," he corrected as the bartender slid them over to y'all.

you furrowed your brows. "really? you look exactly alike."

it was as he was taking his first swig of his drink that you felt someone slide between you and the person sitting next to you, their arm settling on the counter in front of you. you looked up, brows raised as you found a man, definitely in his late 30s, in a nicer shirt than this bar deserved, brand new boots, and what looked to be a cross between dress pants and jeans. interesting.

"can i help you?" you asked, his positioning crowding you into your seat even though you didn't move much. this was your bubble, he was the one who had to get out of it.

"just wondering if you had anyone paying for this drink," he said, his hand now on your whiskey as you narrowed your eyes.

carter moved sharply to stand, but settled when you set a hand on his knee, thumb rubbing circles into his jeans. you offered the guy a very thin, very fake smile.

"that's a nice shirt," you said, earning a wider smile from the man. "where'd you get it?" he almost went to answer, but you continued, your next few sentences stringing together in almost one breath.

"oh, well, i bet you don't know since your wife bought it for you. or - is it ex-wife, now? i don't see a ring, but i definitely see that faded tan line from it being there for years and recently taken off. probably because of a very similar situation we find ourselves in now. your wife is at home, with the kids, waiting for you to take her out to a dinner that will never happen because you're here, scoping out for the youngest woman you can find to sloppily sleep with in the back of your brand new honda civic that you convinced yourself and that girl was some new sports car because it's a 'newer model'."

already, he was in shock, staring at you with a scared kind of wonder that for some reason made you so proud.

you continued. "so, either you're here trying to do that again behind your wife's back, or she's already divorced you, which for her sake i hope is the case, because you seem like a pathetic piece of shit who blames his infidelity on being overworked and undersupported when really you're just a pedophiliac horndog who doesn't understand what the word 'no' means."

you took your drink back from him, taking a sip from it as you watched his expression change between shocked, offended, confused, and embarrassed.

"and yes," you added, "i do have someone to pay for my drink."

he gaped at you as you turned away from him, hand still on carter's knee as you grinned into your glass, sipping from it again. he glanced behind you at carter and you knew he wanted to exclaim how carter was a boy and he was a man, but didn't because he didn't know what else you would say.

"you psycho bitch," he muttered. "all i did was offer to pay for your drink."

"yeah, well i'm quite obviously young enough to be the daughter you had when you accidentally knocked up the drum major when you were a junior, so it's still kind of disgusting," you told him, rolling your eyes. "especially when it's so easy to see that the man i'm sitting next to is my boyfriend, or at the very least, someone else who is paying for my drink because we got them to us at the exact same time and my hand is on his knee. so fuck off, dickwad."

and he did, scoffing as he left. carter turned to look at you with wide eyes before he breathed out a laugh.

"you're my favorite person ever," he said. you smiled at him, shrugging lightly.

"i was trained by the best," you hummed.

he smiled at that before giving you a curious look, tilting his head at you. "so, i'm your boyfriend?"

"i'm hoping," you said, smiling back. "i mean, i really like you, and i think you like me. beth told me to get on with it already because why waste time, hence why we're here. i can call you my boyfriend, right?"

"yeah, yeah you can," he said, nodding as he breathed out a laugh.

you were beaming, maybe even blushing as you glanced away for a few moments before continuing conversation. "how's your drink?"

"surprisingly good," he answered. "you have good taste."

your smile softened a bit as you looked at him, nodding slowly. "yeah, i do." you finished your drink in one swig, setting the glass on the counter. "hey, do you wanna get out of here?"

"but, we just got here," he said, furrowing his brows.

"well, i just have this feeling more situations are going to arise that will either warrant me coming up with more speeches like that or you punching a guy square in the nose, and i'm not in the mood for either," you answered, standing and pulling your wallet from your bag.

"hey, no, i pay," he said. he tossed a ten and a twenty on the counter, his hand going to your lower back as he followed you out of the bar.

"hey carter?" you asked as he opened the passenger door to the truck, holding your hand to help you up. he smiled up at you.

"yeah?"

you reached forward, taking his face in your hand and pressing your lips to his gently. he froze for a minute, but stepped forward to reach you better and deepened the kiss as best he knew how, his hands on your waist as he pulled you closer to him.

when you pulled away, he was grinning, "damn."

spencer dutton:

when you and spencer left for africa, neither of you were fully prepared for the sheer amount of idiot tourists there would be, both on and off the safaris spencer went to go rescue.

most times, you accompanied him on his little adventures that were the hunts, him wanting to keep you close and you wanting to stay out of the city. but, for one fateful leopard chase, he'd told you to stay back at the lodge, which ended up being the right decision. you met back up with him in nairobi, where you'd stayed, and were sat at the bar waiting for him.

now, when a lady was without her man, other men noticed.

and the british men in africa noticed.

"no, thank you," you said with a polite smile as the tall, british man at your side told the bartender that he would pick up your tab. "i've got it taken care of."

"no, my lady, i insist," he said, helping himself to the seat at your side. he turned to the bartender then. "it'll be on mine. and i'll have a sidecar, please."

"a brandy man," you said, raising your brows as you sipped on your glass.

he chuckled, nodding as he then eyed your drink "yes. and... what it is you're drinking, ma'am?"

you smiled at him as you set your drink down. "whiskey."

"whiskey," he repeated. to say he was surprised would be an understatement, his brows raised so high they nearly touched his hairline. he didn't seem put off by it though, a smirk rising to his lips. "very american."

"well, i am american," you answered as you brought the amber drink back to your lips. "and so is my husband."

"and where is your husband?" he asked. there was a certain air to british people that made them seem as if they were always looking out for you and your wellbeing - he did not have it. his smile had shifted as he eyed you and your whiskey and his arm had somehow slid across the bar to nearly be touching yours.

"he's here," you told him, glancing over his shoulder in hopes that spencer would just appear out of the blue. "he's speaking with some coworkers currently."

"ah, a business man," he said with a gruff laugh.

"a hunter," you answered shortly.

his laugh cut short as he watched you with a hanging smirk, waiting for you to laugh and say instead that he was the viscount of hereford or something. but, you didn't. instead, you nodded, smiling as you set your glass against the counter once more.

"yes, he's an awfully good gunman," you continued. "grew up hunting in montana - where we're from. then, he went off to war. and, i mean, surely you've heard war stories about the american armies - they're intense. he learned a lot. it's definitely his area of expertise, shooting, so he does well here."

you felt a hand on your shoulder then, earning a quick check backwards. a smile tugged your lips up as spencer leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, his eyes on the man opposite you.

"you talking about me, darling?" he asked.

"yes, sir, i am," you hummed before turning to smile at the british man. "this is my husband, spencer dutton."

"i've heard about you," he stammered, brows knitted tightly as he stared at spencer. "you're the hunter, the one on the safaris who shoots the maneaters. the american."

"he's been hung up on the american thing," you mumbled to spencer, shooting him a sideways smile and shrug.

"yeah, i am american," spencer said with a bit of a huff. "had to clean up after y'all during the war, so i thought i might as well keep doing it here. just a bit more exotic, being in africa and all."

the guy didn't know really what to say, looking to you for help but you sure as hell weren't about to offer it. spencer's hand rubbed across the expanse of your shoulders, lingering on the exposed skin he could find.

"now, i appreciate you keeping my lady here safe while i was off, but it'd be good of you to move on now," he said, his brows raised as he eyed him.

"yes, of course sir," the guy answered, standing quickly. he looked to you, offering a tight smile as he nodded. "ma'am."

you nodded in return, an amused smile growing on your lips as you turned back to spencer. "it's about time you showed up. i thought you got eaten by that leopard."

"two leopards, actually," he said with a sigh as he sat on the chair next to you. he smiled when he met your eyes, reaching forward to grab the seat of the chair beneath your legs and pulling it towards him, the legs making a dull screeching sound before he stopped you in front of him. "i missed you."

"i missed you too," you answered, smiling as you reached a hand up to cup his jaw and bring his mouth to yours. he was happy to oblige, his hands on your waist as he tugged you to the edge of your seat.

"you're not leaving my sight for a while, baby," he mumbled as he kissed you again.

you laughed, shaking your head when you pulled back. "i reckon we should probably get back to our room then, hun. i wanna hear all about your hunt."

"i got hit on," he told you with a shrug, his grin growing as you raised a brow.

"serious?" you wondered as he stood, taking your hand and stepping back to let you out from between the bar.

"i'll tell you about it in our room," he said with a hum. you held up a hand as you began walking to the door.

"i don't wanna hear it," you said with a shake of your head. "i mean, she was probably right for thinking it-"

"they."

"they?"

"they."

"they were probably right for thinking it, but those things they were likely dreaming up about your cute face? that's my reality, baby. and i'mma make you say a lot of things that have nothing to do with those other ladies."

he laughed thinly, squeezing your hand as you pulled him out into the night air and down towards your hotel. his steps quickened as he moved close behind you, a certain urgency in his tone as he mumbled in your ear. "you never fail to, baby."

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thanks for reading! leave a request in the comments or message me privately! i love writing, so if you've got an idea you need fleshed out on paper i'd love to be the one to do that for you

masterlist!!

[screamingintotheneverendingvoid]

John Carter x nurse!reader

Warnings: 18+ pls SMUT AHEAD!!! It might be my first time writing it, so it might not be great but it’s still smut!! PiV (no protection, please make smart choices in reality) grinding, making out, unrealistic car sex but hey we’re here to have fun, clit play, reader has a vagina/clit, riding, it’s a quickie but took me way too long to write.

A/N: This is my first dive into smut, I don’t know if it came out exactly as I wanted because I got a little nervous, I kind of want to make a part 2, but we’ll see how this does first. 😅 Anyway, it’s based around season 4, episode 15 because damn Carter, please take charge all the time.

-

You had just finished giving report to the next nurses to come in, or at least you all tried to, with the best of your ability in all of the chaos that still persisted from the night.

People were still trying to get things to ‘normal’ for the ER after the spill, and you honestly would’ve stayed longer to help, but you wanted to get home, shower, and crash.

… At least that’s what you told everyone, and sure, you did want to do that, but you couldn’t tell them that your skin was still buzzing with the images in your mind you had to push aside to do your job all night. Images of your boyfriend in the chaos of the night standing tall and taking charge without a second thought. He just did it. Not only did pride bloom in your chest as his partner for seeing the amazing job he did without protocols to follow, all the supplies he needed, and in less than perfect circumstances all around but seeing him seem to take charge so easily and running around person to person, helping anywhere and everywhere he could… it made you feel something you shouldn’t have felt in the middle of everything happening.

The flush of your face was the only thing that might have gave you away, but it could easily be explained away by the rush of the situation or at least that’s what you told yourself. Either way you decided to push those thoughts away at the time, but now they had time to burst free and run wild. So the sooner you could find John and get out of here, the better.

You let your eyes scan the parts of the ER you could see from where you stood before you started moving forward to the front desk, Jerry and a few others moving around it trying to find some sort of organization in the chaos it had became during the crisis. You walked over and leaned on the closest edge, “Jerry, have you seen John? It’s time for us to get off but I figured he must still be off helping somewhere…”

Jerry looked up from the stack of binders he was looking through, “Last I saw him he was in the doctor's lounge.”

You quickly nodded your thanks before heading off. That was a good sign, maybe he was ready to go and you wouldn’t be stuck having to take the train to his place and being in what felt like a form of torture until he got home.

You walked the few feet it took to get to the lounge and pushed the door open, being greeted by the back of your boyfriend.

Thank you universe.

He turned at hearing the door open and smiled the way he only did for you. You weren’t sure you could pinpoint what made it special to only you and no one else, maybe the fact you could tell that even though he was tired, and life hadn't exactly been easy for him lately, he still managed to reserve that little smile for you. You didn’t take a second of it for granted.

“Hey, baby, you ready to go?” He said grabbing your jacket out of the locker first, you walked over to him and leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek, and turned around so he could help you into your jacket.

“Yes, please. I thought I might have to drag you from this place.” You said it jokingly but you both knew it had happened before and was bound to happen again. He gently turned you back around to make sure your jacket was adjusted correctly before leaning in to touch your lips against his. You eagerly jumped at the opportunity to be closer to him, your hands immediately grabbing a hold of his shoulders to pull him closer, his hands found their way under your coat to your waist. You moved your lips to make the kiss deeper but he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours and you couldn’t help your frustrated groan, which just caused a smug expression to cross his lips, “Now what is that all about, hmm?” As he said it, you playfully whacked at his shoulder. “You did an amazing job today and I just think someone should show you some appreciation is that such a bad thing?” You tried to put on your most innocent of acts as you said it, knowing you meant it in no such way.

“No, no… I mean..” He started trying to stutter out but you closed the gap between the two of you and kissed him on the lips before kissing his cheek, and then his jaw, and then his earlobe, “So put your coat on and hand me my bag, and grab yours, so we can get out of here and I can show my boyfriend just how appreciated he is.” You purred in his ear before teasingly pulling yourself out of where he still held you by the waist.

You felt pretty damn accomplished at how dumbfounded he looked at first before a goofy grin took over his face and he almost cartoonishly fast grabbed his jacket to put on over the scrubs he was still wearing after having to throw out his clothes earlier. He lifted his bag on to one shoulder and then slid yours over top of his, slamming the locker door shut, pulling his car keys out of his jacket pocket. He was by your side again in seconds and threw his free arm over your shoulder, “Please, let’s get out of here.”

—-

The walk to John’s jeep, while uneventful, felt like it took hours. You would glance over at John and just his beautiful profile in the night, the way his nose was outlined by the moonlight and his freckles put the stars to shame, was driving you absolutely nuts.

Once you got to the jeep, he unlocked the doors, went to your side to open your door for you, you pecked his cheek sweetly as you got in and he shut the door behind you. Then he opened the driver door, threw the bags in the backseat and got in.

You don’t think he was ready for what happened next. No, you know he wasn’t ready.

As soon as his door was shut, you more or less launched yourself at him, and it was his turn to let out a surprised yelp. You had intended to kiss him, but the sound he made caused you to burst out into laughter instead.

“I’m sorry, John, I didn’t mean to scare you, but if I don’t kiss you right now I might exploded and that’s a medical diagnosis, you can look it up.” You know your words were cheesy but they had the intended effect in one, causing John to look at you like you might have two heads, and two, caused him to laugh. Which was really what you lived for, you truly believed that sound could cure anything. Someone should look into.

“I don’t remember learning that in medical school. Maybe it was just a nursing school thing?” He teased as he wrapped one arm around your waist pulling you fully into his lap, not the most comfortable in a car, but you could honestly careless right now as long as you were close to him. He laid his hand on your cheek, his fingers gently following the curve caressing the skin there.

He seemed to get very serious for a moment, those brown eyes you loved more than anything in the world just studied your features as if committing every detail to memory, “You are breathtaking.”

He whispered the words as he moved closer, savoring the moment until your lips touched again.

Your skin felt like it was buzzing all over again, or maybe it never really left, as you felt his tongue dancing over your lips and you happily granted it access. You had scrunched his green scrub top under one of your hands, your other hand already having a mind of its own, wandering to the edge of his top and ghosting your fingers at the soft skin of his abdomen. The inhale of breath he took at even the smallest of your touches gave you a satisfaction unlike any other. You broke away from his lips to drag your lips across his cheek, down to his jaw, down to his neck. Letting your hand wander a trail over his chest, then back down to his stomach carefully skating around where his pants started, you listened as his breathing would change and become a little heavier every time you would dip your hand a little lower. You started nipping at the skin at his neck, grinning against his skin as he groaned, “You’re just teasing me… why don’t you get in your seat so we can get to my apartment faster?” He said it while moving a hand on to the back of your neck, causing goosebumps to rise where he touched, he only half heartedly attempted to remove you from your place on his neck.

“Who said we have to go to your apartment? Are you afraid of being caught in the parking deck? Doesn’t that make it a little more exciting.” You teased against his skin, and you know it had to be exciting to him to some extent because the scrub pants he was wearing did little to hide how hard and exciting this was.

You heard John sigh in ‘defeat’ as he seemed to finally have the idea to lean over and recline his seat back to make some room for the two of you. Honestly with how tall he was, you weren’t sure climbing in the backseat would be a better option at this point anyway, this jeep only had so much room.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming this entirely on you seducing me, I hope you know.” You heard the smile in his voice, but just happy he agreed you brought your face back up to his and crashed your lips back together, just taking a moment to cherish him. His taste, which right now was a little soapy with whatever they had hosed everyone down with during decontamination, but still very much him.

Now reclined you settled as best as you could with you knees on either side of his hips, not caring that clothing was still between you, you let your hips drop down on his and started a gentle rhythm grinding against him. Taking pride in the almost immediate moan you elicited from John, his hands flying to grip onto your hips.

“We’ll hurry, no need to worry that pretty head of yours.” You playfully whispered against his lips, letting your hands fall between the two of you, to quickly untie his scrub bottoms. You lifted your hips up for just a moment to be up to yank his bottoms down enough to free his cock. Awkwardly shifting around, relying on John’s help to get out of your own scrub pants and underwear, you let out a huff of frustration. Now realizing the thought of car sex was much smoother than the actual execution.

He must’ve thought your frustration was cute because he laughed as he left your pants a tangled mess at your ankles, now focused far more at looking at your face.

“Maybe it’s your head we should be worrying about, not mine?” His voice was now barely above a whisper, as those brown eyes bore into your soul, capturing every detail of you. You leaned back to prop yourself on his thighs, and leave a little room between you. “Maybe.” You shrugged as you took one of his hands that had found their way back to your waist and brung it up to your mouth, kissing along his wrist, following one of the veins and kissed along it until you got to the back of his hand. Then let yourself gently plant a kiss along each of his fingers. You didn’t let your eyes leave his for a second, and his attention was still all on you. His breath heaving, and you could audibly hear him swallow. You kissed your way back to his pointer finger before you took it into your mouth. He let out a deep groan as his head fell back against the seat. You let your tongue playfully swirl around it before letting it go with a pop.

You stalled for just a second while you debated what to do next, you wanted his fingers inside you but you didn’t really have the time. Quickies were fun but inconvenient, but you could continue your fun at home, because no way would this be nearly enough of him for you.

You leaned towards him in the reclined seat letting your entrance tease against his dick, causing you both to let out moans. John lifted his head up from the seat, hands bruising in their grip on your hips, as he let his lips find their way to your neck. “Please, baby…” he mumbled softly against your skin.

You knew you were plenty wet enough and just torturing you both at this point, so you reached down between you and made sure he was lined up with your entrance, and then you slid down onto him, the feeling as delicious as it had been the first time you had ever done it.

The ‘fuck’ John let out from his place against your neck was rewarding, he even bit down softly on the skin he was lavishing, and then began to suck a mark there.

Your moans were music to his ears as you started moving on top of him, setting a fast rhythm, that his hands seemed happy to help you keep.

You let your eyes fall closed as sensations quickly started taking over you, one of your hands gripped John’s shoulder tightly for support, the other stayed glued into his short locks, holding onto them to keep him as close to you as possible. You felt your orgasm close at hand, and you started to move your hand from John’s shoulder, but he stopped you, “May I?” He asked, never moving away from his place at your neck, he was addicted to it tonight it seemed. “Of course.”

He moved one hand from your waist to in between your bodies, and between your legs, and his fingers found your clit. As soon as he did you swore you almost saw stars.

He knew your body better than he knew any medical school text book and he would happily use that to his advantage anytime.

He kept up the motion around your clit, and you heard his breathing becoming heavier, almost in time with yours, “I’m about to-“ “Me too.” It was all the exchange you needed, he finally came up from his place at your neck, and found his way to your lips again, and when you came, his name was on your lips but it was muffled against his own. You felt him come moments after you, as you kept riding him through both your highs.

You both stilled and tried to catch your breath. You buried your face into the crook of his neck as he soothingly ran his hands across your back.

“Are you okay?” He softly asked.

“Of course, baby. Thank you for indulging me.” You planted a small kiss on his neck before lifting your face and planting a soft kiss on his lips. His sweet smile soothing to your entire soul.

“Good. Now I hate to interrupt our afterglow… but we should probably put on our pants and get back to my place.”

—-

tag : @omgbrianab

[nowprettybbyimrunning]

Winter

This is chapter 2 from the series "Carter's Favorite Season is Autumn", series masterlist HERE, chapter 1 HERE, add yourself to my taglist HERE.

W.C: 8k

WARNINGS: mention of blood, inaccurate medical procedures, i think some cursing

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i think this kinda gets progressively more shitty as you reach the end.

Three days. Three whole working days had passed since Carter’s and Autumn’s little fight and she still wasn’t talking to him and John did not know for how long he could take it. It was more than just the fact that he had an enormous crush on her and she was not even looking at him, killing him. It was the fact that they were friends, they had a kind of routine together that for Carter had become, in a way, sacred. 

Every time he got home, instead of relaxing and being happy about having a few hours of silence and peace, Carter couldn’t wait for the next day to start just so he could see Autumn. There was brightness and warmness in the way she bounced into the ER, messy curls tucked into her big brown coat and characteristic green scarf that somehow made the orangey red of her hair stand out even more; usually two coffees in her hands, and one was for him. By the time she had walked up to the entry dest where he was impatiently waiting, John had already caught himself staring at her in awe. Jerry always laughed at him. Everyone did. To the point that now he was being called “loverboy” behind his back. Carter could only hope that his new nickname hadn’t reached Autumn’s ears.

But he had ruined it. He had been an asshole and clearly deserved what he was getting (which was nothing, and that was the problem); yet, he thought the way she had been acting was at least a tiny bit childish. What were they, five years old? Carter knew he needed just three seconds to express how utterly sorry he was for the way he had acted and they’d be back to normal. ‘Cause if there was one thing he had gotten to know pretty well in almost two months of residency, was Autumn, and there was no way this wasn’t also pissing her off.

Anyways, the point is that he missed her. Just three days and it felt like a lifetime without her. John did not feel like he was being dramatic. Yes, he had seen her, of course he had it was impossible not to. Still, she hadn’t talked to him. Not. A. Single. Word. 

So, he decided that day would be the last one he’d let the redhead keep on ignoring him.

Autumn had just gotten to the hospital and went straight to the break room to enjoy at least five minutes of peace while she drank her coffee before someone called her for help. She found that Carter was already inside the dimly lit room, sitting on the couch and drinking his own mug of coffee. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel it. But she was not going to look at him or talk to him, not until he said sorry. That’s all it took, Dr. Hawthorn just wanted to hear her friend apologize.

They hadn’t said a word to each other since she walked out of the exam room after Carter stitched her up. Everyone was talking about their little argument, Autumn had heard the nurses whispering and every time she walked into a room Carol and Susan were already in, they stopped talking. She didn’t know exactly what they were saying, but they were talking. And if that wasn’t enough, the gossip was not only about her and John, but also about her and Doug.

Dr. Ross had gone to check up on her after the incident with the psych patient. It was late at night and he hadn’t had dinner yet, so she served him a plate of the pasta she had cooked for herself. That’s it. But of course once he went back to the ER and told Lydia what he had been doing, it suddenly had been a date. It was not.

Sure! Doug was a hot guy, every single person working or not at County General knew that, but Autumn was not interested at all. Plus, she did not want to get into trouble, and whatever little game Dr. Ross was trying to get her into had already reached Dr. Greene, who did not doubt asking her about it.

“Dr. Hawthorn, do you have a minute?” Was the first thing Autumn heard when she came back to work the next day and Mark was waiting at the entry desk.

“Yeah, sure” she followed him into an empty (thank god) exam room, “is there a problem?” the redhead expected him to ask her about the psych patient or, worst case scenario, about Carter.

“No, not really,” Dr. Greene started, “it’s just that, you know how fast word travels in here” sure thing Sherlock, “and I heard that Dr. Ross took time off yesterday to pay you a visit,” that was not the topic of conversation she was hoping for.

“Yeah, he just wanted to check on me and give me some painkillers,” Autumn excused him.

“And have dinner,” oh oh.

“Dr. Greene I swear it’s not like that, at all” was she sweating? yeah she was.

“I know, I know” Mark held up both hands to stop her from talking, “but Doug is… well, he is Doug. And I want you to be careful,” she did not appreciate the babying, but she understood it.

Since then Autumn tried to keep things between her and Doug strictly professional, and it was working, she hoped. But the silence in the break room did not last long, it was exactly Dr. Ross who cut through it by stepping inside.

“There you are,” he said leaning against the lockers, “I need you in room 2”.

“Who?” Carter asked.

“Both of you, now,” Autumn and John immediately left their half drank coffees and followed Doug down the corridor, “ten year old boy, has been coughing for a few days and has a little fever, figured you Autumn specially would like to go solo”.

“Me?” There was clear surprise in her voice.

“Yes, do you not want to?” Dr. Ross asked jokingly.

“No- I mean, yeah of course who’s with him?”

“Mom’s in there, the kid’s name is Liam I-” Doug was interrupted by Carter.

“Do I have to be there?” 

“Yes” Doug looked at him, “like I was going to say, I’ll be there in the room watching over just in case, and you too Dr. Carter,” he handed a clear chart for Autumn to take.

She grabbed the paper, a bit nervous, and entered the room with Doug and John behind her, going directly toward the exam table, while the other two men stayed back closer to the door.

Liam was already sitting on the exam table, his legs slightly swinging back and forth, on his hands what seemed to be a keychain. Autumn gave a bright smile to the kid’s mom who sat in a chair next to the boy before she started to talk.

“Hi there,” she snapped on a pair of gloves, “My name is Autumn and they are Dr. Ross and Dr. Carter” she signaled with her right hand the direction where they were standing, John almost jumped at hearing her acknowledge him “I’m a medical student, is it okay if I examine you today?” Autumn waited for the mom’s approval and Liam’s confirmation. When she got a nod from the woman and a shy ‘yes’ from the kid she took her stethoscope off around her neck and prepared to use it.

“It’s nothing too serious, he has just been coughing for a few days and it won’t stop” the mom told her.

“Okay, then let’s take a listen to see what’s going on, Liam can you please sit straight for me?” the little boy did just as he was asked, “excellent, now take a deep breath in”. Autumn listened carefully first to his chest, “and out,” there was a bit of a wheeze but she wanted to be sure so she moved on to listen through his back, “good,now do it again one more time,” and yes, there definitely was. She took off the stethoscope and took down some notes on the chart, “has he had any history of asthma? he or anyone in the family”.

“No, not really” Liam’s mom shook her head, “he rarely gets sick, he’s usually a very healthy kid”.

“Any pets or smokers at home?” Dr. Hawthorn kept on asking the regular questions.

“Not, it’s just us, no other animals or people”

“I see,” Autumn took a moment to think, “if there’s no pets, smokers or prior asthma then I’m going to order a chest X-ray to confirm if it is early bronchitis or just a virus that’s too stubborn to go away yet,” she looked at Dr. Ross to see if he had any objections.

“Sounds about right,” Autumn smiled, “go and put down the order, good job Dr. Hawthorn,” the redhead wanted to scream at Doug’s words but she contained herself and instead just rushed out of the exam room with the biggest smile on her face.

Carter had wanted to stop her to tell her she had been amazing, but decided against it when he noticed she was still not looking at him.

Autumn watched as the technician clipped the X-rays into place, “is this the first one you’re doing alone?” he asked.

“Yes, it is” she got closer to see better.

“Well, the lungs are clear, what were you looking for exactly?” the old man tried to help.

“Just wanted to make sure the patient doesn’t have bronchitis.”

“Doesn’t seem like it”

“Yeah, it probably is just a virus,” Dr. Hawthorn scribbled what she was seeing onto the chart, “can I take those with me? so Dr. Ross can take a look at them”

“Yeah of course, let me get an envelope,” she waited patiently for the man to hand her back a brown envelope with Liam’s X-Rays inside and went on a mission to find Doug. It took her a few minutes but she finally caught him talking to Dr. Greene.

“Dr. Ross, do you have a minute? I have Liam’s X-Rays with me,” she held them up and then handed them over.

“Yeah, let me see” Doug opened the envelope and examined them, “what do you think Dr. Hawthorn?,” he looked at her.

“There’s nothing in the lungs, they are clear, it’s probably just a virus and should be gone soon, so I’d just give him some analgesics as the mom said he had already been coughing for a few days, try to make it go faster. Maybe add a follow-up in case it doesn’t let up?” Autumn prayed to not have forgotten anything and to have made a decent enough presentation.

“That’s exactly what I’d suggest,” the redhead couldn’t help but smile, “you wanna tell the mom?”.

Dr. Hawthorn blinked at him, “me?”

“Yeah of course,” Doug handed her back the X-Rays, “you checked Liam, you made the diagnosis, seems fair don’t you think?”

“Okay, I’d love to”.

“Carter!” Dr. Ross called for him, “go with her,” Autumn did not know if he should thank him or kill him, she’ll decide after releasing Liam.

They walked in silence together to room 2, and when they got there Carter opened the door and moved to the side to let Autumn walk in, going in after her.

Liam was lying on the exam table now, he looked tired and his mom was running her hands through his hair. The woman looked up to the sound of the door closing behind John.

“Hello again,” Autumn greeted, “I’m here to update you on Liam’s X-Rays results, I’m sorry if I took too long, I can see that he is tired,” she walked over to him and placed her left palm on the kid’s forehead, checking that he hadn’t gotten a fever during the time she was gone, but his body temperature was fine. Carter waited on a corner.

“Oh please don’t apologize,” the woman stood up, “is he fine?”

“Yes he is fine,” the mom exhaled, “there was nothing of concern in his lungs, what he’s got is probably just a virus”.

“What can I give him?”

“I’m gonna give him some analgesics, I’ll send in a nurse in a moment to give him his first dose here and then you’ll have to get a prescription and continue to give it to him at home every eight hours,” Autumn took the liberty to write down everything she was saying for Liam and his mom to take home in case they forget, “I also recommend giving him lots of water and a few lemon teas a day or honey sweets to help him with the throat ache from all the coughing, you can also come back in a few days for a follow-up, or sooner if you don’t see any improvement in one or two days,” Dr. Hawthorne gave the woman a sheet of paper full of bullet points with information about what to do.

“Thank you so much doctor, we’ll be back if it is necessary,” Liam got up and stood beside his mother.

“Well let’s hope that’s not necessary,” she took a lollipop out of her pocket and handed it to the boy, “this is for you Liam, it has honey in it, it’ll be good for your throat”.

“Thank you Dr. Autumn,” the redhead smiled and pinched his cheek.

“I’ll go call a nurse to give him the medicine and then you are free to go,” she smiled at the small family for the last time and turned around. Carter opened the door for her again.

“Autumn wait,” John called after her before she could get away.

“What do you need?” she asked lowly, keeping her distance.

“I just wanted to say that you were amazing, really” there was an unmistakable look of pride on John’s face.

“Thanks,” Autumn simply replied and was starting to turn away when he spoke again.

“And I also wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Dr. Carter took a step toward her and she crossed her arms over her chest, “I was an asshole, I know you have nothing going on with Doug”.

“It was something a friend would not think about their friend,” she tried to keep her cool but the relief in her voice could be heard by anyone.

“You’ve been avoiding me” he stated, “it was childish”.

Dr. Hawthorn laughed and Carter smiled at the sound, “I know, I just wanted to hear you say that you were sorry”.

“So we are good now, aren’t we?”

“Yes we are,” Autumn got closer to him to fix his crooked tie, “but next time ask me instead of assuming shit you know it’s not real”.

John gulped at the graze of Autumn’s fingers on his neck, his heart beating faster, “I will, I promise”.

“I have to go tell Carol to give Liam something for his cough,” she started walking backwards, “I’ll see you at 3 for our coffee?”

“Wouldn’t miss it even if I tried,” Dr. Carter waited for Autumn to turn around and then hit the air with his fist.

“Easy loverboy,” Lydia pushed an empty gurney down the corridor, “Dr. Benton is looking for you in trauma 1” and with not one more word Carter practically skipped away, overjoyed by the fact that his and Autumn’s friendship was back to normal.

“What are you doing tonight? It’s Friday” Autumn asked Carter while taking the first sip of her coffee.

“My parents are taking me to an event they got going on” both of them were eating someone else’s donuts.

“You don’t sound too excited” the redhead playfully lifted up the sides of John’s lips with her fingers to make him smile, and it worked.

“That’s because I’m not.” Still, the smile his friend had brought to him did not fade away.

“And why’s that?” Dr. Hawthorn didn’t want to pressure him into dumping more personal information on her if he did not want to, but she was curious. After all, Carter didn’t mention his parents. Like never.

“It’s just boring I guess,” he started, “I just would rather be doing something else, like sleeping” Autumn laughed, “what are you doing?”.

“Probably just listen to some music, try and cook something nice for once,” both took a big gulp from their mugs, almost finishing their coffees. But neither of them wanted their little break to end too soon.

“Like what?” John sat back on his chair and started manspreading.

Autumn almost got caught up in her own words and cleared her throat before speaking again, “music or food wise?”.

“I guess both,” the tiny smirk that appeared on Dr. Carter’s face could’ve killed Dr. Hawthorn right then and there.

“Well, I’m kinda craving some chicken” John pulled a face at that, “what’s wrong with chicken?” she tried to sound hurt, but in reality found it very funny.

“It’s just a bit plain… and boring” he explained.

“Oh and hanging out with your parents on a Friday night it’s not?” she joked.

“What can I say? I’m a family man,” Carter opened up his arms above his head, “whatever, and what music?” he sat straight again, elbows on the table.

Autumn thought for a few seconds, “I kinda have been listening to Linger by The Cranberries nonstop” she confessed.

“What d’you mean? the album it’s on?” she must mean the album. 

“Nope, just the song”.

“Don’t you get tired of it?”

“I don’t get tired of things i like, Carter” Autumn kinda hoped that he would get the hint that she was, in fact, talking about him.

“Not even people?” and maybe he had.

“Not even people,” the redhead confirmed.

The next week, while Autumn and Carter were working a night shift, a snowstorm hit Chicago. So now they were physically stuck at the hospital since snow didn’t seem to stop falling and every means of public transport shut down as it was too dangerous for people to wander around, which meant they were having a quiet and slow night at County General; and even though the thought of being completely confined inside the hospital wasn’t too appealing, they were thankful that it was under those conditions. With not many patients to look after.

Actually, it was a very boring night. Used to the chaos that was the ER, both Autumn and Carter found it hard to stay still without doing anything, and the silence that invaded every corridor and room was upsetting and eerie. And that was the reason they were where they were at that moment.

Carter had managed to somehow steal the keys to the cafeteria kitchen from Linda who was fast asleep, sitting at a chair, without waking her up. Autumn had been on the lookout in case any of the older residents or doctors suddenly appeared and told them off for their little shenanigan.

Once they were inside the cold and big room they got into a fit of laughter, feeling like two bad kids who knew they could get in trouble if found. John was leaning forwards with his hands in his knees, he was having trouble trying to stop laughing but he couldn’t; to the point that his eyes were filling up with tears. Autumn wasn’t too different, she had had to grab the countertop or else she might fall. But unlike Dr. Carter, she had already stopped laughing but had been coughing for the past ten seconds from it.

When John realised the problem the redhead was under, he immediately got close to her and started giving some harsh pats on her back, “are you okay?” He face palmed himself mentally, of course she was not, her face and neck were getting red from all the effort.

“I’m okay” more coughing, “just- water please” Autumn begged.

“Yeah, sure, on it” Carter, as fast as he could, grabbed the first cup he found, filled it up with tap water and gave it to her.

“Thank you”

“Would you like to drink some tea while I cook something for us?” Dr. Carter offered. He was rummaging through the kitchen’s cupboards trying to find a mug, and tea for that matter. 

“That’d be nice, yes” Autumn propelled herself on top of an aisle and watched him put water in the pot and turn the stove on. The heat that radiated from it warmed them up a bit. “What’s on the menu chef.”

John took some stuff from the fridge and placed it beside her, “I was thinking maybe I could cut some vegetables and cook them with some chicken?”

“I thought chicken was boring” the redhead poked the man on the ribs, tickling him and getting a smile out of it.

“Not my chicken ma’am, no” he started by washing up some carrots.

“Okay then, amaze me” Dr. Hawthorn handed Carter a big knife.

“Oh, you will, believe me.”

Autumn took a liking to watching John cook for her. She didn’t know if he was doing it to impress her or because he actually was a good cook, and she’ll find out sooner or later which is the case. “Do you like snow?”

“I like playing with it I guess” he moved on to some onions.

“Like snowball fights you mean?” The redhead stole a piece of carrot from the pile he had just finished cutting.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Carter pointed at her with the knife but she just laughed, “yes of course I mean snowball fights, what else can you do in the snow?” 

“Oh come on! you don’t like doing snow angels?” she bit down on the orange stick.

“No, I don’t like getting all my clothes wet from laying on the freezing ground,” it was the turn of the bell peppers to get cut into surprisingly thin slices.

“That’s lame John, you sound like an old grandpa” Autumn took the piece of chicken’s breast out of the tray it was in and handed it to him.

“I’m not a grandpa,” he complained.

“No, you’re right” he was worse, “my grandpa at least loved doing snow angels with me, on the freezing ground may I add.”

Carter rolled his eyes, “of course he did you’re his granddaughter.”

A few minutes passed and Carter had finished chopping all the ingredients and put them on a cooking pot when Autumn spoke again “I think I’d beat you in a snowball fight” it was a lie, she was awful at them; but, she also loved to tease him.

“No way, no one beats my throw” he was now looking at her, having finished his job for the time being.

“I think I could,” the redhead pressed.

“Fine” John caved in, “once the snow lets down we’ll go outside and I’ll show you how good I am.”

“Okay, loser has to get the morning coffees for both of us the entire next week” Dr. Hawthorn extended her hand for him to shake.

“Deal,” he took it and gave it a firm shake “you’re going to regret it.”

“I don’t think I will,” Autumn tried as best as she could to not show how she felt the moment John’s way bigger hand got into contact with hers. The man’s felt warmer and stronger against her own. Internally she wished they never had to let go. Carter was the one to let go so he could grab a bottle of kitchen oil and uncap it.

“Carter I don’t think you shou-” she tried to warn him but it was too late, he had already let big splash of oil hit the burning hot pot, sending flames into the air, “OH MY GOD”

“Oh shit-” John jumped back.

“PUT THE LID ON PUT THE LID ON” Autumn pointed to the lid that was resting behind him. 

Once the flow of oxygen had been stopped from getting inside the pot, putting off the fire, Carter turned off the stove. “I’m sorry, I hope you like your vegetables and chicken a bit crisp.”

Dr. Hawthorn jumped off the countertop and patted him on the shoulder, “I always liked my food a bit smoked,” she tried to joke while getting some plates and utensils for them.

“Just don’t consider this as my cooking, okay?” Dr. Carter served some of his slightly burned dish on each plate, “I swear I'm a good cook.”

“I’ll have to taste it to believe it.”

“Someday I’ll cook for you again and you’ll have to swallow your words,” they took the first bite and it wasn’t that bad.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything!” Autumn found it cute how distressed he was getting over it when the food really wasn’t bad.

“No, but you thought about it”

“No, I did not” they kept on eating. “This was actually quite good.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” John took their empty plates to the sink.

Autumn followed him so she could wash them as a thank you, “again, no I’m not.” Carter looked at her with his hands on his hips and eyebrows raised. “I’m being serious, this was better than whatever I could’ve prepared for myself at home, thank you.”

“You’re welcome” he took to helping the redhead dry the dishes with a towel he found laying around and started putting them back where he had found them. “So, what now?”

Dr. Hawthorn rinsed her hands, “let’s check with Lydia, maybe there’s something we can help on.”

“That sounds boring” John complained and Autumn laughed a laugh that was more than music for his ears.

“That sounds like work,” they made sure to tidy everything up before getting out the kitchen and locking it up again, “if there’s nothing then I’ll take you up on that snowball fight.”

“What have you done?” Lydia asked them when Carter left the keys on top of the desk in front of her.

“How are you Lydia? Enjoyed your nap?” Autumn knew the woman liked her a tiny bit more than she liked John.

“Like a kid enjoys their sweets,” the nurse joked, “what are you two up to?”

“We just stole some chi-” John was interrupted by Dr Hawthorn’s index finger on his lips, attempting to shut him up.

“Is there something for us to do? Any patient?” Both residents sure hoped there wouldn’t be.

“No, at least no one has been admitted since I’ve been awake,” nurse Wright explained, “and last time I checked Dr. Greene was sleeping in the break room so I guess no.”

“Could you page us in case something comes up?” Carter begged while handing Dr. Hawthorn her scarf and beanie that he had picked up from said room on their way from the cafeteria’s kitchen.

“Where are you going?” The woman looked at them like they were crazy.

“Just outside the ambulance bay, we want to see the snow,” Autumn said as she followed Dr. Carter to the door and he held it open for her.

“But it’s freezing out there” Lydia yelled at them.

“That’s the entire point,” John yelled back before stepping out and closing the door.

The moment their feet landed on the outside pavement a chill ran through their spines. Lydia was absolutely right, it was freezing. Carter took a moment to look at Autumn through the corner of his eye. Her big green scarf covered her up almost to the lips, her matching beanie covered her ears, though he could see a bit of it getting red from the cold; her hair was tucked under it and under her big brown leg length coat that didn’t graze the floor just by a few inches. He watched her let out a puff of air that turned white when it came into contact with the air outside and wished he was close enough to her face to inhale it himself. She looked perfect, as if they hadn’t spent hours and hours running around an ER filled with patients before the storm hit. Self-consciousness invaded him, he probably looked like he had been run over by a truck.

Yet Autumn thought he had never looked better. Yes, he looked tired; but so did she. And she wondered if that was how he looked like every time he got home and got into bed, drained from all the time spent at County General. She cursed at herself for wearing a coat with no pockets and forgetting her woolen gloves at home, because Carter’s hair seemed like the best place for her cold hands to rest and get warm and she was fighting every cell in her body to not do so.

“Are you ready to get your ass beat?” He finally broke the silence around them.

“Don’t get so cocky Dr. Carter,” the redhead teased, walking toward the snow.

“Dr. Carter? You must mean business…” he followed her like a puppy follows its owner.

“That I do,” her sneakers started getting wet and she instantly knew that meant she’d get a cold by the next morning, but at that moment the possibility of having to be a mouth breather for a few days did not worry her. 

“So, loser is on coffee duty?” that was what they had agreed.

“I’d like to change it up a bit if you let me,” Autumn bent her knees to grab a handful of snow.

“I’m listening,” he’d agree to anything she asked of him.

“If you win, I’ll be on coffee duty,” Dr. Hawthorn said with a grin on her face that told Carter she was up to no good when he looked at her, also getting down to pick up some snow, “if I win, you have to do a snow angel with me” she finished while both of them tried to mold into balls the snow on their hands.

John pretended to be thinking about it, but in reality he had nothing to think about. “You’re on,” he agreed and threw the first ball in her direction, hitting her on the shoulder.

“Hey,” Autumn tried to sound offended, “I wasn’t ready!” she threw hers back and hit him on his chest.

Carter was surprised by the strength of her throw, “where did you learn to throw like that?”

“I might’ve forgotten to mention that I took baseball classes as a kid” Dr. Hawthorn stood as if she was a player and snapped her arm forward, sending a big ball of snow into the air at high speed, crashing directly on Carter’s stomach.

“That’s totally cheating,” he started to complain “and you know it,” he tried to do the same movements as her, but she dodged it.

“No it’s not, I just didn’t tell you the entire truth,” Autumn repeated her last throw, but this time her snowball landed on John's face, most precisely his nose.

Dr. Carter took his hands to his face and bent his knees forward a bit. A muffled grunt escaping his lips.

“OH MY GOD” Autumn rushed to his side the moment she noticed what had happened, “I’m so so sorry John, let me see” she grabbed his hands to remove them from his face so she could see the damage she had caused.

“It’s fine, I’m fine” John tried to assure her, but his face said otherwise.

“No you’re not, your nose is bleeding” Autumn bent his head backwards to stop the blood from flowing and staining his clothes, “let’s go inside and I’ll help you clean up”

“Okay, yeah that I can take,” John was kinda glad for the hit he took if it meant he’ll have the redhead tending to him, close to his face.

They ran inside the hospital and into an exam room as fast as they could in order to avoid being seen by Lydia or they’d probably get scolded. Carter sat down on the exam table while Dr. Hawthorn prepared some gauze to clean his nose and upper lip as some blood had already dried there. She tilted his head back by grabbing him by the chin. John was looking at her with sad puppy eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that” she started to gently rub on his nose with the gauze, “you’ll make me feel bad”

“You broke my nose” he played with her.

“No I did not! don’t be a baby” she punched him on the arm before putting some cotton in one of his nostrils as it was still bleeding a bit, “I guess we could say I won…”

“Yeah, through cheating,” Carter could not resist the urge to fix Autumn’s hair that was falling on his face as she hovered over him. He took a strand that was grazing his cheek and moved it to rest behind her shoulder.

The redhead smiled at the gesture and finished cleaning him up, “now you owe me some snow angels”

“We’ll see about that” John tapped on his nose to see if it was hurting, it was not.

“You know you will do it” Autumn put away everything she had used.

“How can you be so sure?” He knew he would do it, but still he wanted to know why she was so sure.

“‘Cause you don’t seem like the type of guy to break a promise” she started explaining, “and I think you like me too much not to” Dr. Hawthorn had no idea from where she had gotten the guts to say that. She didn’t mean it romantically. Well, yeah she did. But Carter didn’t know that. Couldn't know that, or it’ll be the end of her.

Carter did not know what to say, he couldn’t say yes but he also could not not say anything at all. So he just awkwardly laughed, and now the moment felt as uncomfortable as ever. He noticed the way Autumn’s face changed at his response and it made him feel the most terrible and stupid he had felt in his entire life.

“I’m going to the break room,” the redhead let him know, grabbing the room’s handle to get away from him. Great, he had definitely ruined it, they were having an awesome night together but he had to be the one to end it.

“I’ll go with you,” he quickly got up and followed her.

“Suit yourself,” was all Dr. Hawthorn replied to him.

As they walked down the corridor Carter tried to find something to say, but what? Yeah you’re right I like you, like a lot, and risk being rejected by her?  No chance. Autumn didn’t like him, at least not in the way he liked her, he was sure of that; so, he wasn’t going to put their friendship on the line because of his silly crush. It’ll go away eventually, he hoped.

Once they were in the break room, neither of them said a word. The redhead sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, faking being interested in some news about the stock market. John sat down next to her, he knew she hated anything that had to do with stock, every time a man who looked like he owned assets came into the ER for help she’d leave him to someone else. 

They were the only ones there at the moment, Dr. Greene must have woken up at some point and gone somewhere else. A sudden wave of exhaustion hit Carter, it made sense as it should have been almost four in the morning, which meant he had been awake for almost an entire day with no naps in between. Autumn must have been as tired as him because he could feel how her breathing slowed down second by second, and after a few minutes he was also dozing off too when an external weight landed on his left shoulder.

It was her head.

Autumn was resting her head on his shoulder.

Carter smiled to himself and moved his head a bit to be able to watch her. She looked at peace, and there was nothing he loved more than to see that: her relaxed, next to him. It was the fact that he felt Autumn was comfortable enough with him to the point of falling asleep, none other than on his shoulder, when they were the only two living souls in the room that made his heart jump. The smell of coconut from her shampoo and the vanilla in her perfume reached his nose, he could swear on god that never in his life had he smelled something as delicious.

And just like that, he fell asleep too. With his head on top of hers.

And in that moment he did not care at all that someone would probably walk in and see them like that, that depending on who would it be the entire hospital would hear about it, that they’d be the targets of jokes for an entire week; ‘cause it meant that, at least on someone else’s mind, Autumn and him fit together.

Christmas time arrived at County General Hospital as quick as days were cold, and everyone was too excited for secret santa to come. It was the 23rd of December and they were supposed to give out the gifts that day since not all were coming back until after Christmas.

The picking process had been easy, Autumn had been in charge of writing down in tiny pieces of paper the names of all the workers that were participating, and then each one pulled out from a mug, the name you picked was the person you were buying for.

Dr. Hawthorn’s paper had said Susan, and she got her a long dark blue trench coat she had heard her say she wanted for a long time.

But Carter was overjoyed and excited from the moment he opened his and read, on her neat cursive “Autumn”. Since that moment ten days ago, he had paid even more attention than he usually did to everything she said just in case it gave him an idea about what to give her. And once he finally made up his mind and prepared his gift for her, he had been counting down the days until he was able to give it to her.

He arrived at the ER with the package he himself had wrapped in red paper under his arm and went straight to the break room to save it in his locker so Autumn would not see it. He was planning on giving it to her when they’d be doing their walk to the bus stop, where Carter always waited with her until her’s came.

“That’s a big box” Susan commented the moment she saw him enter the room, “who’s your lucky secret santa?”

“I’m not telling you” he opened his locker and had to play tetris with the stuff he had in it so Autumn’s gift would fix.

“Come on! why not?” Dr. Lewis almost screamed and got closer to him.

“‘Cause you’ll tell her” it took him a few tries but he was able to close the metal door.

“You know I would never tell Autumn you’re her lucky santa,” after hearing the blonde say that, John turned around abruptly, almost crashing into her and making a mess of the coffee mug she was holding.

“How did yo-” he really wanted it to be a surprise.

“You wouldn’t put effort into personally wrapping whatever’s inside there if it wasn’t her,” she kinda had a point, but he was not going to give himself away so easily. Susan and Carol had been trying to get him to confess his feelings for Dr. Hawthorn for a few weeks now and, surprisingly, he hadn’t fallen into it, yet.

“That’s not true,” it actually was, “I would’ve done it for anyone”

“So what you’re saying is that it actually is her,” Susan crossed her arms on top of her chest.

“I said I’m not telling you” John was almost to the door when he heard Dr. Lewis speak again.

“Whatever you say, loverboy” there was the nickname, again. He raised his middle finger at her without turning around.

Autumn had just gotten there where he reached the front desk, looking for her, and his coffee. The redhead handed it to him before she set hers down while taking off her big green scarf with one only with one hand.

“You know you still owe me that snowangel” Dr. Hawthorn pointed her index finger at him, “It’s been weeks”

“And here I thought you had forgotten about it,” he took a sip from the styrofoam cup, “thanks for the coffee by the way” he was trying to divert the topic of conversation to something else.

“I already told you to stop thanking me every day for it” she really had, but every time he tries to pay her back she says no, “and no, I didn’t forget about it, I’ll never forget about it”

Carter threw his head back and grunted, “fine, next time it snows I’ll do a snow angel with you” he finally gave in.

“You know they say it’ll snow on new year’s eve,” Autumn told him and signaled for him to follow her.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ll be stuck here” they were working a night shift on new year’s eve, which meant they’d be starting it together.

Carter would be lying if he said he hadn’t dreamt about a midnight kiss. ‘Cause he had. Twice in a row. Both times he had woken up in a sweat, having to take a cold shower despite the coldness of winter outside.

He noticed that the redhead didn’t bring in anything that resembled a present with her, “did you forget your secret santa gift at home?”

“huh?” Autumn was confused for a moment, “oh right! No, I kinda cheated and gave it early.”

John was bumped over the fact that this confirmed his was not the name written on her paper, “and who was it?”

“Dr. Lewis” that’s why she had asked him about it in the break room, “bought her a blue trench coat.”

Everyone knew Susan loved her coats, “she probably loved it.”

“She did, I saw her wearing it yesterday,” they arrived at the break room, again, where Autumn finished taking off her extra layers of clothing and putting them away inside her locker, “who’s yours?”

Carter smiled at her back, grateful that she was not able to see his little slip, “you can’t know that.”

“But it’s almost over,” he was not going to fall into this one, “I just want to know if you’re good at giving presents, I promise I won’t tell” the redhead turned around and rested her hands at her hips.

“Well, you said it yourself it’s almost over,” John said while laughing and she rolled her eyes, “you’ll know eventually” she was going to love it, he was sure.

“But you already know min-” Autumn’s protest was interrupted by Dr. Benton.

“Dr. Hawthorn, there’s a kid with early signs of pneumonia in room 4 and Dr. Ross needs your help,” he instructed her, “Carter paramedics are bringing in a GSW to the chest in two minutes, go to trauma 1 right now.”

“Yes sir” both residents responded at the same time.

The rest of the shift went on as usual, always a little hectic, especially with the holidays around the corner. Some firework’s injuries and kids sick with the flu.

Carter and Autumn were ready to get the hell out of there. They grabbed their stuff from the break room as fast as they could, just in case a new patient came in and delayed their exit, and practically ran out of County General.

They were already walking on the sidewalk when John noticed she was shivering and not wearing her coat, “where’s your coat?”

“I forgot to grab in the hurry of getting out” she engulfed herself in her own arms, thankful to at least have a big sweater and her green scarf on.

“Here,” Carter started to take off his own coat, “have mine.”

“Oh no no” the redhead tried to stop him by tapping his forearms, “you’ll get sick John, we’re almost to my bus stop.”

“Just let me-” he stopped in his tracks and set the wrapped box he was carrying on the floor, “and as soon as you get on your bus I’ll hail a cab while you have the entire ride home and another few blocks to walk,” he extended the black jacket to her, “just put it on please.”

“Fine” she accepted and started to put it on while Carter picked up the gift and resumed walking, “just because I’ve already been exposed to too much flu today…” that made him chuckle, “did you not get to see your secret santa?” Autumn looked at his arms.

“I actually did, she’s wearing my jacket right now,” he tried to be smooth.

“No way! Seriously?” Dr. Hawthorn stopped walking.

“Yes, this” he handed her the box, “is for you” John watched her expectantly as she sat down on a bench they had stopped in front of and started tearing off the paper.

Once all the red was out of the picture, Autumn’s mouth dropped in awe and his eyes opened like saucers. She immediately set it down beside her and jumped to hug Carter.

“A moka pot?!” she screamed in his ear as her arms interlocked in the back of his neck and she felt him do the same around her waist.

“Do you like it?” his voice was filled with excitement over her excitement, he knew he had nailed it.

“I fucking love it, seriously” they broke apart, “thank you so much it’s the best thing you could’ve given to me.”

“I’m glad you like it, take it as a ‘thank you’ for all the coffees you bring me and don’t let me pay for” the smiles on their faces could not get bigger even if they tried.

They continued their little journey to Autumn’s stop while she read aloud, from the back of the box, all the special features her new coffee maker had. And when it was time for her to get on it, both wished she would have invited him over to try it for the first time; but Autumn was too shy to suggest it and Carter was too scared to ask.

That night, John dreamt of a midnight kiss from his friend, again. Only this time it also included breakfast in bed and two mugs of freshly brewed espresso.

When New Year’s Eve came around and it found Dr. Hawthorn and Dr. Carter like they said it would, snowed in and stuck in another night shift, they didn’t mind it at all. If you had asked them if they preferred to spend that night at home or right where they were at that point, they wouldn’t second guess going for the latter option.

They weren’t able to spend much time together as John had been invited by Dr. Benton to help out in an open heart surgery, an opportunity he couldn’t miss and that had lasted nearly seven hours. Which had left Autumn to her own devices most of the day, even though Dr. Ross had kept her occupied with lots of sutures and taught her to do a spinal tap.

But when the clock marked 11:55 p. m. , all the ER staff got together at the entry desk. Dr. Hawthorn helped Lydia and Dr. Greene’s wife, Jen, pass around some non-alcoholic fruit punch to toast with at midnight, giving everyone a tiny cup.

By the time they finished serving it was a few seconds 'till 12 p. m. and Autumn found her place next to Carter.

“Hey, long time no see” he greeted.

“I’m very happy that you got to help Dr. Benton on that surgery but it was such a bore without you here,” the redhead confessed, “I missed you.”

John felt his heart jump in his chest, “I mi-”

“TEN, NINE-” he wanted to tell her that he had missed her too, a lot; but the countdown set him back.

“EIGHT, SEVEN-” Autumn joined in, still looking at him.

“SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE-” Carter copied her, yelling the numbers in each other’s faces.

“TWO, ONE-” God she wished he would kiss her.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” And he would have done so if they had been alone.

For now the clink of their glasses and a hug, so tight they felt their insides stood on new places, had to suffice.

TAGLIST: @thinemineours @Katydunn047-blog @delicatetrashtree

[mrs-delaney]

Hide| Chapter 12 | Public Pressure & Private Efforts

✨ catch up on hide if you’re just getting here ✨

🌙📚 browse the masterlist for more love, mess, and maybe a little magic ✨💔

🎧 listen to salvage—the album riley swore she’d never release, and then did anyway.

pairing: joe burrow x riley carter (oc) word count: 19.5k requested: no warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, performance anxiety and the vulnerability of laying yourself bare on stage, pre-show jitters that feel like game day nerves, the exhaustion that comes after pouring your heart out for two hours straight, finding your people in a crowded room, and the relief of being with someone who sees all of you and stays anyway.

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 repost, translate, or share my work without permission. 📌 requests: closed! 📌 want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment or message me.

📝 author’s note: not gonna lie—this chapter took longer than i planned. writer’s block hit hard, and for weeks i stared at scenes that felt flat, dialogue that didn’t land, and a performance that just... wouldn’t come to life. thank you for being patient while i wrestled it into something real. this one is about stepping into the light—literally and emotionally. riley performs the full *salvage* album for the first time. joe brings his closest friends into her orbit. they both stop hiding. writing the troubadour sequence felt like being there—the backstage nerves, the hush of the crowd, the ache of “the smallest man who ever lived,” and the flicker of “daylight.” i wanted you to feel every song. to know why this night mattered. but it’s also about the quiet stuff: joe texting her band to make sure she’s eaten. a bathroom makeout that’s more comfort than lust. his friends loving her because she makes him lighter. thank you for sticking with me through the blocks and the delays. for cheering for these characters. for knowing some chapters take longer because they mean more. i hope this one feels worth the wait. 💛 💛

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123 @lilfreakjez @destinyg237

The warehouse in Burbank hummed with the controlled chaos of preparation. Riley's fingers moved across the piano keys, sweat already beading at her temples despite the industrial fans spinning overhead. They'd been at this for hours.

"Let's run 'Mad Woman' again," she called to Pete, who was adjusting levels at the sound board twenty feet away. "The bridge still feels muddy."

Andy groaned from his position stage left, guitar hanging loose around his neck. "We've run it six times, Riles. It sounds fine."

"It sounds good," Riley corrected, pulling her hair back into a messy knot. "But it needs to sound perfect. We've got three weeks before the first show."

Daniel, sprawled behind his kit with a water bottle pressed to his forehead, gave her a look. "When's the last time you ate something that wasn't a protein bar?"

"Riley ignored the question, already counting them in for another run-through. The opening chords of 'Mad Woman' filled the space, but halfway through the second verse, she held up a hand."

Halfway through the second verse, Riley held up a hand. "Stop. Stop."

The music cut off abruptly, leaving only the whir of fans and the low buzz from the amps.

"The tempo's dragging," she said, frustrated. "We're losing the bite."

Pete looked up from his board. "Riley, we've been at this for hours."

"So?"

"So maybe the tempo's not the problem," Daniel said gently. "Maybe we're just tired."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, then felt the weight of exhaustion hit her all at once. When had she started carrying this much tension in her shoulders?

Her phone buzzed against the amp beside her. A text from Joe.

Joe: How's rehearsal going? Taking breaks?

Despite her exhaustion, she found herself smiling. Since their conversation by the pool two weeks ago, Joe had been... different. More present, even from a distance. He texted during her lunch breaks, called when he knew she'd be driving home, asked specific questions about her day instead of generic check-ins.

Riley: Define "breaks."

Joe: Sitting down for more than 30 seconds

Riley: Does playing piano count?

Joe: Nice try. Real breaks. Away from instruments.

Riley: Then no

Joe: Riley

Joe: Go eat something real

She was typing a response when Pete appeared beside her, arms crossed.

"Joe?" he asked, glancing at her phone.

"Telling me to eat actual food," she said, still typing.

"Smart man." Pete looked over. "He showing up for you better now?"

Riley shrugged, but her voice had eased. "Yeah, we're both slammed—but we still talk every day. Calls, texts, whatever we can manage. One of us always checks in."

Pete raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Sounds like he's showing up, then."

Riley rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. "Don't jinx it."

Before she could respond, her phone rang. Joe's name on the screen.

"Perfect timing," Pete said, then raised his voice to the others. "Twenty-minute break. I'm going to get food that doesn't come wrapped in plastic."

Riley answered on the third ring. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Joe's voice was warm, slightly out of breath. "You sound tired."

“I am tired,” she said, sitting back a little on the bench but keeping her hands on the keys. “But we’re getting there. ‘Mad Woman’ is being a pain in the ass, but that’s nothing new.”

“That’s the one about the gaslighting,” Joe said. 

Riley’s head tilted. “You remember that?”

He gave a small shrug. “Hard not to. That line—‘Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy’—kinda punched me in the chest.”

Riley let out a slow breath. “Yeah. That one cost me.”

Riley felt something ease in her chest. Joe hadn’t just heard the songs—he’d remembered what she told him, really taken it in. The lyrics, the stories, the weight behind them. He’d been paying attention.

"The acoustic stuff is solid," she said. "But the full-band arrangements are... it's like translating between languages, you know? Making sure what works in the studio also works live. Especially the heavier tracks."

"Makes sense," Joe said. "Like adjusting plays for different defenses."

"Exactly." She lay back on the stage, staring up at the warehouse's exposed ceiling. "How was practice?"

"Good. Productive. Dak's got me on this new mobility program that's actually hell, but I can already feel the difference."

Riley could hear the satisfaction in his voice—that particular contentment Joe got when his body was doing what he asked of it.

"You sound happy," she observed.

"I am. Focused, I guess. Things are clicking." He paused. "I miss you, though."

The simple honesty of it caught her off guard. The old Joe would have buried that admission in qualifiers or deflection.

"I miss you too," she said softly. "How much longer until I see you?"

"Three weeks until the Troubadour show."

Riley sat up, surprised. "You're still planning to come?"

"Of course I'm coming." There was something almost offended in his tone. "Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"I don't know. It's preseason. I thought maybe—"

"Riley." His voice was firm, certain. "I'm coming. Already moved things around."

She felt her throat tighten unexpectedly. "You moved things around?"

"Rescheduled a couple of meetings, shifted a training session. It's not a big deal."

But it was a big deal. A few weeks ago Joe wouldn't have rescheduled anything for a concert, even hers. The fact that he'd done it without her asking, without making it seem like a sacrifice, felt huge.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You don't have to thank me for showing up."

The simplicity of the statement hit her square in the chest. You don't have to thank me for showing up. Like it was a given. Like it was the baseline, not the exception.

"I'm bringing some friends," Joe continued. "If that's okay. Figured it was time they met you."

Riley's eyebrows rose. "Friends?"

"Zac, Micah, Trae. My guys from home."

The guys from home. The ones who'd known him before the NFL, before the cameras, before any of it. The ones whose approval actually mattered.

"That's..." she started, then stopped, not sure how to articulate what that meant to her. "Yeah. Yes. I'd love to meet them."

“Good.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “They’ve been asking about you for months.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. They’re curious. But in a good way. I think they just want to see who’s got me this spun.”

Riley laughed, surprised by the phrasing. “Spun?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. “They’ll love you.”

In the background, she could hear voices—teammates, probably. Joe's world calling him back.

"I should let you go," she said, though she didn't want to.

"Yeah. But Riley?"

"What?"

"Get some actual food. Pete's right to be worried about you."

"You talked to Pete?"

"I may have texted him earlier. Asked what you needed."

Riley blinked, processing this. "You texted Pete?"

"And Andy and Daniel. Just... checking in. Making sure you're taking care of yourself when I can't be there to do it."

Something warm spread through her chest. Joe had reached out to her band—her family—not to check up on her, but to ask how he could help from afar. It was thoughtful in a way that felt entirely new.

"What did they say?"

“They said you’ve barely eaten all week and you keep telling them you’re fine.”

Riley exhaled through her nose. “I am fine.”

“Not according to Andy. He said you nearly passed out on Tuesday.”

“That was one time,” she muttered.

Joe didn’t let it go. “So I said I’d try to get you to eat something decent. Apparently that wins me extra points.”

Riley could picture it—Joe texting the guys, Andy giving him shit, Daniel overcomplicating, Pete probably glad for the extra set of eyes. He’d told her he’d do better, and this was proof he meant it. He’d listened, and he actually got it.

"Okay," she said. "I'll get food."

"Real food."

"Real food," she agreed. "With vegetables and everything."

"Good girl." The words were casual, affectionate, but they sent heat racing down her spine anyway. "I'll call you tonight?"

"Please."

"Talk soon, birdie."

Riley smiled at the nickname that always made her feel cared for.

"Okay, lovey."

After he hung up, Riley sat on the edge of the stage for another moment, phone warm in her palm. Around her, the warehouse had gone quiet except for the muffled sounds of crew members moving around.

Pete appeared with a sandwich wrapped in white paper. "From Joe." he said, nodding at her phone.

She accepted the sandwich gratefully. "He said you guys had a conversation."

"Brief one. He wanted to know how to help without being overbearing." Pete settled beside her on the stage. "Smart question."

"What did you tell him?"

"That you're stubborn and driven, and you'll work yourself into the ground if we let you. And that sometimes you need someone to tell you to stop, even when you don't want to hear it."

Riley took a bite of the sandwich—turkey and avocado, exactly what she would have chosen for herself. "And?"

"And that he's doing better than I expected. Making the right moves."

Coming from Pete, that was high praise. Pete, who'd been protective of her since they were teenagers, who'd watched her heart get broken and put back together more times than either of them wanted to count.

“He’s bringing his friends to the show,” she said.

Pete looked over, interested. “What friends?”

“His close friends from back home. Zac, Micah, Trae.”

Pete nodded, processing. “That’s big.”

"Yeah." Riley finished the sandwich, surprised by how much better she felt with actual food in her system. "I'm nervous."

"Why?"

She considered the question. "What if they don't like me? What if I'm too... much?"

Pete looked at her, steady. “They’re coming for him. That means they’ll show up for you, too.”

Despite herself, Riley laughed. "Fair point."

“Besides,” Pete said, “if he’s bringing them, he wants them to see you. That means something. Trust him—and trust yourself.”

From across the warehouse, Andy called out, "Break's over, shitheads! These songs aren't going to rehearse themselves!"

Riley groaned, but she felt lighter than she had all day. Fed, reassured, reminded that she wasn't navigating this alone.

"Back to work?" Pete asked.

"Back to work."

But as they ran through "Mad Woman" again, the tempo finally clicking into place, Riley found herself thinking about Joe in a training facility in Cincinnati, probably running drills with the same focused intensity she brought to rehearsals. Both of them pushing toward something, but no longer pushing away from each other.

It wasn't perfect—his schedule was more intense than it had been all spring, and the constant juggling of time zones took effort. But Joe was showing up differently now, making space for her in ways that felt intentional rather than accidental. After the rough patch in early May when everything had felt fragmented, this felt like they were finding their rhythm again.

* * *

Two weeks later, Riley sat in the sterile comfort of a Beverly Hills hotel suite, staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Hair and makeup had left her looking polished and media-ready, but she could feel the exhaustion she'd been carrying like a weight.

The interview was scheduled to start in ten minutes. Rolling Stone, a major feature tied to the album release. Jenny had assured her it would be friendly, career-focused, and maybe some questions about the creative process, the tour. Easy stuff.

Riley had learned not to trust "easy stuff."

She checked her phone one more time. A text from Joe, sent twenty minutes ago:

Joe: Proud of you. Call me when you’re finished.

She'd responded with a heart emoji, but hadn't mentioned her nerves. Joe was in meetings all day, preparing for preseason. He didn't need her anxiety on top of his own pressure.

"Riley?" A production assistant knocked on the bathroom door. "They're ready for you."

"Coming."

The interviewer, Jessica Martin, was younger than Riley had expected, with kind eyes and a warm smile that immediately put her at ease. They settled into matching armchairs in front of a wall of windows overlooking the city.

"So," Jessica began after the photographer finished capturing their setup shots, "this album feels like such a departure from the bands previous work. More vulnerable, more personal. What changed?"

Riley paused, thinking it through. “I don’t think this album is more vulnerable than our older stuff. I’ve always written from a pretty raw place—sometimes too raw. What’s different this time is the focus. Instead of writing a bunch of songs about different things, I wanted to tell a single, cohesive story, from start to finish. What it looks like to lose yourself and then figure out how to get back.”

She met Jessica’s eye, voice steady. “The honesty was always there. The difference is, now I’ve got enough distance to really see what happened, instead of just writing while it was all happening to me.”

"The honesty is striking," Jessica agreed. "Especially on tracks like 'Lilith' and 'The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived.' Those feel like direct confrontations with your past."

Riley shrugged, a half-smile playing at her lips. "They're both confrontational, but The Smallest Man is me calling someone else out—just putting it all on the table, no filter. That one's not subtle at all."

She paused, the smile fading slightly. "Lilith is different. That's me calling myself out, how I went completely off the rails when I was already lost. It's messier because it's harder to admit what you did to yourself than what someone else did to you."

She met Jessica's eyes directly. "I guess both songs are just me being done with pretending. About any of it."

Jessica nodded, making notes on her tablet. "And 'Daylight'—the closing track—feels like the emotional resolution to that journey. It's such a hopeful note to end on."

Riley's chest tightened slightly. She'd known "Daylight" questions were inevitable, but it still felt strange having strangers analyze something so personal.

"Yeah, that song..." Riley paused, searching for words that felt true but not too revealing. "It came to me right at the end of the recording process. I realized I didn't want to end the album in darkness. There had to be something on the other side of all that pain."

"It's beautiful. Very different from the rest of the album—more tender, more romantic. Was there someone specific who inspired that shift in perspective?"

And there it was. The question Riley had been dreading and expecting in equal measure.

"I think," she said carefully, "that song came from a place of possibility. Sometimes you meet someone who shows you that not all love has to hurt. That's a revelation worth writing about."

Jessica leaned forward slightly, and Riley caught a glint in her eyes that made her stomach drop.

“Speaking of new love,” Jessica said, her tone still light but with that reporter’s edge, “there’s been some buzz about you and a certain NFL quarterback. People noticed he was in New Orleans not long ago, and the timing’s got fans speculating. Any truth to those rumors?”

Riley's media training kicked in automatically. Deflect. Redirect. Maintain control.

She met Jessica’s gaze. “People can think what they want. I’m not going to feed the rumor mill. The album’s the most honest thing I have to give.”

"But listeners are curious about your personal life - you've got devastating songs like 'The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived' and then 'Daylight' which feels so hopeful. That shift suggests something changed for you personally."

Riley’s pulse quickened. The interview was tilting somewhere she didn’t want to go.

She took a slow breath. “I get why people are curious, but the album’s where I put the real stuff. That’s the only place I feel okay sharing it.”

"Were there specific people you were writing about? Your ex Ethan, or the rumored relationship with Joe Burrow?"

"Some songs are true, some are just me trying to figure out what I want. But I'm not going to connect specific songs to specific people."

"That's very diplomatic," Jessica said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "And very different from the Riley Carter we saw a few years ago—the tabloid headlines, the dramatic exits from restaurants, the public arguments with Ethan Mills..."

Well. This wasn't the friendly album interview she'd been promised.

It's really impressive how you've turned things around. Your career is at an all-time high, you seem genuinely happy..." Jessica paused, consulting her notes. "Though some industry sources suggest that songs like 'loml' and 'The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived' might be too raw, too personal. That putting that level of pain on display could be seen as... well, some would say vindictive."

Riley's expression didn't change. "People are allowed to feel uncomfortable with the truth. I'm not writing songs to make anyone feel better about what they did to me." She leaned forward slightly. "It's interesting how when men write about their relationships—their pain, their anger—it's considered art. Raw, honest storytelling. But when women do it, suddenly we're being vindictive or airing dirty laundry." 

Her voice stayed level, but there was steel underneath. "I spent years making myself smaller to protect other people's feelings. I'm done with that. If my truth makes people uncomfortable, that sounds like their problem, not mine." 

Jessica shifted in her chair, clearly not expecting this level of pushback. "Of course. I suppose what I'm getting at is - your fans have been speculating about your personal life for months. Don't you think they deserve some clarity?"

Riley's smile returned, warm but completely controlled. "You know, in the past my personal life has been very public, and I've learned that's just not something I'm interested in anymore. I think the music speaks for itself about where I am emotionally." 

"But surely you can understand people's curiosity—" 

"Of course I can," Riley said graciously. "But I've also learned that some things are worth protecting. I'm much more interested in talking about the creative process, the tour we're planning, and the incredible musicians I get to work with every day." 

Her tone remained perfectly pleasant, but the message was clear: try me.

* * *

Two hours later, Riley sat in Pete's kitchen, a glass of wine finally in front of her. Pete, Andy, and Daniel had been waiting when she arrived, summoned by her text from the car.

“So that was interesting,” Andy said, scrolling through his phone. “The interview is already blowing up.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Daniel looked up, grinning. “You’re getting props for not letting her push you around.”

Pete set down his phone with a satisfied look. “Twitter’s going in on the journalist. Looks like Jessica Price has a history of this kind of ambush interviewing.”

Riley took a sip of wine, processing. “Huh.”

“You sound surprised,” Pete said.

Riley nodded. “A little. She seemed cool at first—felt like a real conversation. Usually when I stand up for myself in interviews, it gets spun like I’m difficult or emotional.” She let out a slow breath. “Guess there’s something to be said for keeping your cool and letting people show who they are.”

Her phone buzzed. Joe’s name lit up the screen.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured, then answered. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was warm, but there was something underneath—concern, maybe pride. “Saw some clips from your interview today.”

“That was fast.”

“Someone on the team showed me. You handled that perfectly.”

“Yeah?” She felt a flutter of relief she hadn’t expected. “I never know how it’s going to look once it’s out there.”

"You were incredible. Professional, firm, didn't give her anything to twist." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm proud of you."

The simple statement hit her harder than she’d anticipated. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

There was a pause, and she could sense him choosing his words carefully. "I know that probably wasn't easy. Having to deflect like that." 

Riley exhaled slowly. "No, it wasn't. But I get why it's necessary right now."

"I appreciate you understanding that. I know it's not ideal."

"It's not," she agreed quietly. "But I'd rather protect what we have than let someone like her pick it apart for clicks." 

"We'll figure out the rest as we go," Joe said. "But today? You were perfect."

After they hung up, Daniel looked around the kitchen at the others. "No more solo interviews for Riley. One of us goes with her from now on, or we all do."

"Agreed," Pete said immediately.

"Absolutely," Andy added. "That was bullshit."

Riley started to protest. "Guys, I can handle—"

"You handled it perfectly," Pete interrupted. "But you shouldn't have to handle ambushes alone."

* * *

Riley stared at the ceiling of her LA bedroom, her phone screen glowing 2:47 AM when she checked it again. She'd been lying here for over an hour, her mind still buzzing from the day despite the wine and the reassuring presence of her friends until they'd finally headed home around midnight.

The interview kept replaying in her head—not the parts she'd handled well, but the moments when Jessica's questions had hit closer to home than she'd let on. The way her chest had tightened when Joe's existence was reduced to "speculation" and "rumors." How it had felt to smile politely while describing her own truth as something worth protecting rather than celebrating.

She rolled over, reaching for her phone. No new messages, but she scrolled through anyway, landing on Joe's contact. He'd be asleep—his schedule was ruthless was picking up now—but the urge to hear his voice was stronger than her consideration for his sleep.

Before she could overthink it, she pressed call.

It rang twice before his voice came through, rough with sleep but immediately alert. "Riley? You okay?"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I know it's late. I couldn't sleep."

"Hey, it's fine." She could hear him shifting, probably sitting up. "What's going on?"

Riley closed her eyes, suddenly feeling foolish. "I don't know. I keep thinking about today. About having to sit there and pretend like you don't exist."

Silence on the other end, but not an uncomfortable one. Just Joe listening, the way he did.

Joe was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. "You know I've never been good with the public stuff. Having people in my business—it's never felt right to me."

Riley stayed silent, something heavy settling in her chest.

"It's not about you," he said quickly, like he could sense her pulling away. "It's never been about you. I just... I don't know how to be any other way."

"I know," she said quietly. "But it still feels like I have to pretend you're not mine."

The word hung between them—mine. Possessive and vulnerable all at once.

"You don't have to pretend anything," Joe said, his voice rough with something she couldn't name. "Not with me. Never with me."

"But everywhere else?"

Silence.

"I'm sorry it's hard," he said finally. "I'm trying to be different about this stuff.

She closed her eyes, hearing both the apology and the boundary. "I'm not asking you to change overnight. I just... I wish it didn't hurt sometimes."

She rolled onto her side, pressing the phone closer to her ear like she could somehow get closer to him through the connection. "Tell me something real. Something that's just ours."

Joe was quiet for a moment, and she could picture him in his bedroom in Cincinnati, probably shirtless, hair messy from sleep, those blue eyes thoughtful in the darkness.

"I've been thinking about the Troubadour show," he said finally. "About watching you perform 'Daylight' for the first time."

Riley's breath caught. "Yeah?"

“Just wondering what it’ll be like,” he said. “Hearing it live. Knowing what it means.”

The raw honesty in his voice made her heart race. "Joe..."

"I'm proud of that song," he said quietly. "Proud that you wrote it."

Riley felt her chest tighten. "Yeah?"

"It's a good song, Riley. Really good." His voice was matter-of-fact, but she could hear something deeper underneath. "I understand what you're saying in it."

She smiled faintly, her words barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

"I liked that you ended the album there," he said, his voice dropping lower. "After everything else... ending with something that sounds like that."

Riley closed her eyes, feeling something warm settle in her chest. 

"I feel like that too," he said simply.

"I miss you," she said, the words carrying more than just absence. They carried want, need, the ache of loving someone whose touch she could only remember, not feel.

"I miss you too." His voice had roughened, and she could hear the want in it that matched her own. "How much longer until I see you?"

"Eleven days." She'd been counting. "God, that feels like forever."

"Switch to FaceTime," Joe said. "I want to see you."

Riley felt her breath catch. She didn’t tease, didn’t protest. Just hit the button and waited for his face to fill her screen.

He looked half-asleep and a little wrecked, hair messy, eyes dark and open just for her. He took her in for a long moment, gaze unhurried.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice low. “I hate having conversations like this and not being able to see your face.”

Riley couldn’t help but smile, even with the ache sitting behind her eyes. “God, you look about as tired as I am. I’m sorry I woke you up. I was just… in my head.”

Joe shook his head, eyes steady on hers. “You can call me any time, you know that.”

She nodded, the silence between them suddenly comfortable, heavy with everything unspoken.

He held her gaze for a long beat. “You want to just… stay like this for a minute?”

Riley settled back, letting the phone rest beside her. “Yeah. I do.”

They didn’t talk much after that. Riley just let herself watch him, letting the quiet do the work. After a while, her eyes drifted closed, the weight of the day finally catching up to her. She was half-asleep when she felt, rather than heard, Joe say her name softly.

“Hey, go to sleep,” he murmured. She managed a sleepy hum in response.

He watched her a little longer, making sure she was really out, then smiled, quiet and private. “Goodnight, Bird.”

She didn’t answer—she was already gone. Joe ended the call and set his phone aside, the morning pressing in on his side of the world, but not minding the lost sleep.

* * *

Joe stared at his phone, rereading Riley's text for the third time. Just got to the venue. Sound check in an hour. Are you nervous about tonight?

He'd typed and deleted three different responses.

"You gonna answer that or just keep staring at it?" Trae asked from across the aisle.

Joe looked up, realizing his friends were all watching him. "What?"

"Dude," Micah said. "You've been weird since we got on the plane."

"I'm not weird."

Zac raised an eyebrow. "You rearranged your schedule to fly us to LA to meet some girl—"

"She's not some girl," Joe said, sharper than he intended.

The cabin went quiet. Zac held up his hands in surrender.

"Okay," he said carefully. "To meet Riley. The famous musician you've been sneaking around with for months."

Joe set his phone down, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated."

"Most things are," Trae said quietly. He'd been the one Joe had actually talked to about this stuff, late-night calls when the distance felt impossible and Joe couldn't sleep.

Micah looked between them. "Am I missing something here?"

Joe was quiet for a long moment, staring out the window at the clouds below. These guys had known him since high school. They'd watched him date Olivia, seen how he kept even that relationship carefully contained. Football here, personal life there, never let them bleed together.

"I've been trying to keep her separate," he said finally. "Like I always do. But it's not working."

"Separate how?" Zac asked.

Joe struggled to find the words. "You know how I am. Football season, she stays in her lane. Off-season, maybe I visit her world a little. Keep it clean, keep it controlled."

Trae was nodding. He'd heard versions of this conversation before.

"But?" Micah prompted.

"But she's not staying in her lane," Joe said. "And I don't really want her to anymore."

He picked up his phone again, finally typing back: Not nervous. Ready.

"That's why you brought us," Zac said, understanding dawning. "Because you're done keeping her separate."

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing," Joe admitted. "This whole... mixing everything together. I've never wanted to before."

"What's different about her?" Micah asked.

Joe thought about how to answer that. About Riley's laugh in his kitchen, about the way she'd called him out when he was being distant, about how she made his carefully organized life feel less like a schedule and more like something worth living.

"She doesn't fit in a box," he said simply. "I've tried. But she's too... much. In a good way."

Trae was watching him carefully. "And that scares you."

"Yeah," Joe said. "It does."

"So tonight..." Zac said.

"I told her I'd stop trying to manage this," Joe said. "Stop trying to figure out how she fits into my life and just... let her be in it. I want to do that for us." He paused. "I don't want to lose her because of my shit."

His friends exchanged glances. This was new territory for Joe Burrow, who planned everything, controlled everything, kept everything in its proper place.

"And if we don't like her?" Micah asked.

Joe looked at him steadily. "Then we'll have a problem."

The directness of it surprised them. Joe didn't usually draw lines like that, didn't usually put anyone ahead of his inner circle.

"But you will," he added, his voice softer. "She's... fuck, she's amazing. You'll see."

The plane began its descent, and Joe felt his stomach drop with it. Not long from now, he'd be sitting in a room full of people watching Riley perform, and he wouldn't be able to hide how he felt about her anymore.

* * *

"The private jet touched down at LAX with barely a bump, dusk settling over the tarmac. Joe could see the last light reflecting off the asphalt as they taxied toward the private terminal."

A black SUV waited at the edge of the tarmac, driver already standing at attention. Joe recognized the efficiency—this had Scout's fingerprints all over it, probably coordinated through Sarah. Riley's world meeting his in small, practical ways.

"Mr. Burrow?" The driver stepped forward. "We're heading directly to the Troubadour, correct?"

"That's right," Joe confirmed, shouldering his bag.

As they settled into the SUV, Zac looked around at the tinted windows and premium interior. "Riley's team arranged this?"

"Yeah," Joe said, checking his phone. No new messages, but he hadn't expected any. Riley would be deep in her pre-show routine by now.

The drive through West Hollywood was slower than Joe had anticipated, evening traffic thick on Sunset Boulevard. He found himself getting more aware of the time, of what Riley was probably doing right now.

"Hey," he said, turning to his friends. "I should probably give you guys a heads up about something."

"What's up?" Trae asked.

Joe chose his words carefully. "When we get there, Riley's probably going to be... focused. I don't talk to anyone the day of a game, and I'm thinking she might be the same way before a show."

He glanced out the window at the palm trees lining the street. "I've never actually seen her in her element like this before. So if she seems distant or busy, it's not personal. She's probably just in her zone."

"You want us to stay out of the way," Micah said, understanding.

"Not exactly. Just... don't take it personally if she doesn't have a lot of time to chat. I don't want you guys thinking she's rude or anything."

"Zac looked over at Joe. 'Don't worry, man. We'll be cool.'"

"Yeah, man. When's the last time you flew us somewhere to meet someone you were dating?" Trae asked quietly.

Joe considered this. "Never."

The SUV slowed as they approached the venue, and Joe could see the iconic Troubadour sign ahead. He felt that familiar pre-game focus settling over him—calm, controlled, ready. In a few minutes, he'd be walking into Riley's world for the first time, seeing her perform rather than just the Riley who was quietly his.

The driver pulled around to the back of the building, away from the main entrance where the show would begin in soon.

* * *

The back alley behind the Troubadour buzzed with pre-show energy. Crew members moved equipment between the venue and loading trucks, grabbing last-minute supplies. Security personnel checked IDs at the stage door, and Joe could hear the muffled sound of final instrument checks bleeding through the back entrance.

As their SUV pulled up, a woman with a headset and a clipboard materialized from the backstage entrance. She spotted Joe immediately and walked over with the efficiency of someone who'd been watching for their arrival.

"Mr. Burrow?" she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew. "I'm Casey, stage manager. Riley's expecting you." She pulled four laminated passes from her clipboard, handing them out. "You'll need these backstage."

She gestured for them to follow, leading them through the back entrance and into narrow gray corridors. The hallway thrummed with activity—crew members brushing past with last-minute items, someone shouting about monitor levels from a room down the hall, muffled voices calling back and forth.

"She's just getting ready," Casey said over her shoulder as they navigated toward a staircase. "Sound check wrapped a while ago, so we're in that final prep phase. You know how it is before showtime."

She led them up the stairs toward the green room. "Riley's upstairs. Fair warning—it's packed up there, and not exactly spacious to begin with."

Joe nodded, already mentally preparing himself for what they were about to walk into. 

"Joe!"

He turned to see Lola weaving through the crowd toward him, Harlow close behind. Both women looked genuinely happy to see him, and Joe felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease at seeing familiar faces.

"Hey," he said with a slight smile.

"Riley's gonna be so happy you made it in time," Harlow said. "She's up there finishing up her makeup."

Joe gestured to his friends, who'd been watching the exchange with interest. "Lola, Harlow—these are my guys. Zac, Micah, Trae."

"Nice to meet you," Lola said, shaking hands with each of them. "Riley's mentioned you."

"So you're the friends Joe's been hiding," Harlow said with a grin.

As they climbed the narrow stairs, Joe could hear Riley's laugh before he saw her—bright and unguarded, cutting through the general buzz of conversation. When they reached the top and stepped into the crowded green room, he spotted her immediately.

She was perched on the old brown couch by the windows, legs tucked under her, a small mirror balanced on her knees as she applied mascara with steady, practiced hands. Haley sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, gesturing animatedly as she told some story, while Laura leaned against the wall nearby, nursing what looked like a beer and laughing at whatever Haley was saying. Across the room, Daniel sat hunched over a small drum pad, headphones on, his sticks moving in quiet, precise rhythms.

There was no frantic energy around Riley, no last-minute panic. Just a visible buzz of excitement and genuine enjoyment. She was having a good time, completely at ease in the controlled chaos of pre-show preparations. When she finished with her mascara, she tossed the tube to Haley and picked up a tube of lipstick, continuing her conversation without missing a beat.

"Burrow! Buddy!"

Pete's voice cut through the room before Joe had taken more than a few steps inside. Both Pete and Andy looked up from where they'd been passing a joint back and forth in the corner, immediate grins spreading across their faces as they spotted him through the crowd.

"Dude," Andy said, pushing through the packed room toward them.

Pete was right behind him, navigating between crew members and industry friends. "Man, good to see you."

Andy grinned. "Perfect timing."

Joe nodded, a slight smile tugging at his mouth.

Riley's head snapped up at the sound of Joe's voice, her eyes finding his across the room. The smile that broke across her face was instant and unguarded—pure joy at seeing him there.

She set her mirror aside without looking, lipstick tube forgotten in her lap as she unfolded herself from the couch. People were packed shoulder to shoulder in the narrow space, but Riley moved through them like she had a map—ducking under someone's elbow, sliding between two industry guys deep in conversation, never taking her eyes off Joe.

"Excuse me," she said to someone, but she was already past him.

When she reached Joe, she didn't hesitate. Her arms went around his neck and she pressed up on her toes to kiss him, right there in front of everyone. It wasn't performative or showy—just Riley being Riley, unafraid to show exactly how she felt.

"You're here," she said against his mouth, like she couldn't quite believe it.

His arms came around her. "Yeah."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, not letting go. There was something about seeing him here, in her world, that made her chest feel tight with happiness.

"I missed you," she added quietly.

"I missed you too," Joe said, and leaned down to kiss her again, right there in front of everyone.

She turned to the three guys standing slightly behind Joe. "And you must be the friends."

Zac, Micah, and Trae exchanged quick glances, clearly taken aback. Joe had prepared them for Riley being focused, maybe distant, caught up in her pre-show routine. Instead, here she was, turning her full attention to them with genuine warmth.

"Zac," the first one said, stepping forward with a slight smile.

"Micah," said the second.

"Trae," said the third, and Riley could see the surprise in all their faces—not at meeting her, but at how completely present she was despite the chaos around them.

"I'm so glad you came," she said, and meant it. "Joe's been talking about you guys forever. I was starting to think you were made up."

Micah laughed. "Shit, we were starting to think you were made up too."

"Fair," Riley grinned. "Though I have to say, you guys are exactly what I pictured."

"Oh yeah?" Micah said. "What did you picture?"

"Definitely good," she said. "I promise what I had in mind is good - you're exactly like he described."

Trae was looking around, taking in the energy—people moving with purpose, the hum of conversation, the underlying buzz of anticipation. "This is incredible," he said. "You can feel it in the air."

"Right?" Riley said, lighting up at his understanding. "It's like everyone's plugged into the same current. I love it."

Zac was watching the interaction between her and Joe, how easily she moved between focusing on him and including them, how she made it look effortless despite the obvious demands on her attention.

"Joe said you'd probably be too busy to hang out," Micah said. "But you seem pretty..."

"Available?" Riley finished with a laugh. "I mean, I've got about thirty minutes before I need to start getting my head fully in the game, but until then..." She shrugged. "This is my favorite part anyway. The anticipation."

She looked back at Joe, squeezing his hand. "Plus, I wasn't about to miss meeting the people who've known this one since he was probably a pain in the ass teenager."

"Oh, he was definitely a pain in the ass," Micah said, grinning.

"Still is," Zac added, but his tone was fond.

Riley laughed, and Joe felt something settle in his chest. This was going exactly how he'd hoped—his worlds colliding without friction, Riley being completely herself, his friends seeing exactly what he'd been trying to explain about her.

She turned toward the room, still holding Joe's hand. "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone properly."

She led them toward where Pete and Andy were still lounging in their corner, Daniel having migrated over with his drum pad now silent. Haley and Laura had moved closer too, curious about the new arrivals.

"Guys," Riley called out, "these are Joe's friends from home. Zac, Micah, and Trae."

"What's up," Pete said, nodding at them with genuine warmth. "Good to meet you."

Andy was already reaching into his pocket. "Hey, I just rolled one for you guys," he said, pulling out a fresh joint.

"Thanks, bro," Zac said, accepting it with a nod.

The joint made its way around the expanded circle—Zac to Micah to Trae, then to Joe, who took a casual hit before passing it to Riley. There was nothing forced about it, no one making a big deal. Just people sharing before a show.

"So what do you guys do back in Ohio?" Haley asked, settling cross-legged on the floor near them.

"I'm in investor relations," Zac said. "Corporate stuff."

"Tech," Trae said simply.

"Fashion design," Micah added.

"Nice," Daniel said, looking at Micah with interest. "You do your own line or work for someone?" Joe felt himself settling into the easy rhythm of the conversation. Riley's hand was still in his, her thumb tracing absent patterns on his palm as she listened to his friends talk. Pete was asking thoughtful questions, Andy was making jokes that actually landed, and Laura was nodding along like she'd known these guys for years.

This was how Riley's people operated—immediate acceptance, genuine curiosity, no pretense. They didn't care about credentials or connections. They cared about the person in front of them.

As Micah started explaining his work, Joe felt Riley's hand tighten slightly in his. She leaned closer, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

"Come with me for a second?"

She led him through the crowded room, weaving between people until she reached a door he hadn't noticed before. She pushed it open, revealing a small bathroom—barely big enough for two people, but private.

"Sorry," she said with a slight laugh, closing the door behind them. "This is literally the only quiet space in the building right now."

The sudden silence felt almost loud after the buzz of the green room. Riley leaned back against the door, looking at him in the dim light.

"Okay, now I can actually look at you," she said with a slight smile.

She reached for him, her hands sliding up his chest to rest at the base of his neck. "It's been three weeks."

"Yeah," he said, his hands finding her waist. "Too long."

"Way too long." She tilted her head up toward him. "I missed this."

Joe leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. "Me too."

"So…wanna make out for a bit in this horrible bathroom?" she asked, her mouth quirking up.

Joe laughed, caught off guard but not surprised. "Only you would ask it like that."

Then he took control, his hands finding her waist as he pressed her back against the door, kissing her like he'd been thinking about it all day.

They broke apart for a moment, both breathing hard in the small space. Riley's hands were still tangled in his hair, her back pressed against the door.

"Your friends are perfect, by the way," she said quietly. "I can see why you love them."

"They're already half in love with you," Joe said. "I could tell the second you introduced yourself."

Riley smiled. "Well, they're important to you, so they're important to me."

She kissed him again, and there was an urgency to it—three weeks of distance and the energy already building for the show making everything sharper. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer in the cramped space.

Joe's hands slid up to frame her face as they kissed like they both needed this more than air. When they finally broke apart, both breathing harder, she stayed pressed up against him.

"Fuck," she breathed, her forehead against his. "I needed that."

She took a shaky breath, her hands smoothing down his chest. "But we gotta go out there so I can get my shit together. Can't fuck in this tiny bathroom..." She grinned. "Although I will say, if you haven't fucked in a horrible tiny bathroom, you haven't lived. Rain check?"

She turned toward the door, and Joe laughed, swatting her ass as she reached for the handle. "Get out of here."

When they slipped back into the green room, the energy had shifted. People were starting to move with more purpose—crew members heading downstairs, industry friends checking the time. The intimate hang-out vibe was giving way to something more focused.

"There they are," Pete said, looking up from where he was now checking his bass. "Riley, we should probably start warming up."

She nodded, already switching gears. Joe could see the performer starting to emerge—not dramatically, just a subtle sharpening of her focus.

"Guys," she said to Joe's friends, "Casey can take you side stage. If you stay off to the side by the curtain, it should be pretty private."

"Sounds good," Zac said.

Riley found a quieter corner of the room and closed her eyes, beginning to run scales—pure vocal exercises, no instruments, just her voice cutting cleanly through the space as she warmed up her range. The band sat nearby, letting her work, Pete occasionally nodding along to her rhythm.

Joe watched, fascinated, as she ran through different vocal patterns, her voice moving from low, resonant tones to higher, more powerful notes. This was purely technical—a professional preparing her instrument.

After about ten minutes, she opened her eyes, voice ready.

"Alright," Pete said, standing up. "Huddle time."

The four band members moved into a tight circle, arms around each other's shoulders. Joe could hear Pete's voice, low and steady, saying something about playing for the people who needed to hear these songs. Riley added something about honoring the music and each other. Andy made what sounded like a joke that got quiet laughs.

Then they broke apart, and Joe could see it—they were ready. Not just individually, but as a unit.

Riley walked over to Joe, rising up on her toes to kiss him. "See you after," she said quietly.

Casey appeared at the door. "Time to get everyone positioned," she said to Joe and his friends, as well as Haley, Laura, and the other non-band friends in the room.

Joe gave Riley's hand one last squeeze, then followed Casey out, leaving the band to have their final moments before taking the stage.

* * *

The last notes of "Sunshine Riptide" faded into the darkness of the Troubadour, and the crowd erupted. Riley stood at the mic, slightly out of breath, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she took in the energy radiating back at her from the packed venue.

"That was 'Sunshine Riptide,'" she said, her voice warm and conversational through the speakers. "And holy shit, it feels good to be back."

The crowd cheered, and Riley laughed, pushing her hair back from her face. "I'm not kidding—it's been almost two years since we've done this. Since we've all been together like this. And I missed you guys so fucking much."

Pete stepped closer to his mic. "We missed this too," he said, grinning. "Even if Riley made us practice that song about fifty times this week."

"Shut up," Riley shot back, but she was still smiling. "It needed to be perfect for you guys."

"It was perfect," Andy chimed in from stage left. "Now tell them about the pool house."

Riley laughed, and the sound echoed through the venue, intimate and real. "Okay, so. You guys know our contract with our old label ended last year, right? And we made a choice. We decided not to renew."

A few cheers from the crowd, and Riley nodded. "Yeah, we wanted creative control. We wanted to own our work. So we did a distribution deal with Republic instead. This record? It's completely ours."

She gestured toward Pete. "This one let us convert his pool house into a studio. We call it Sad Banger Labs—"

"Best investment I ever made," Pete interrupted, and the crowd laughed.

"Most of what you're about to hear was made right there in Pete's backyard," Riley continued. "Some of it at Electric Lady in New York, but mostly just... us. In this tiny converted pool house, staying up for days, figuring out how to say things we'd never been able to say before."

Daniel tapped his sticks together softly, a gentle rhythm that filled the brief pause.

"So tonight," Riley said, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more intimate, "you're going to hear the whole album. Front to back. Salvage. And it's... it's a journey. These songs came from a version of me I don't live in anymore, but I remember her. The girl who stayed. Who kept justifying things that weren't justifiable."

The venue had gone completely quiet, hanging on every word.

"This isn't a revenge album," she said, her voice steady but vulnerable. "It's not about one person. It's about the version of myself who stayed too long, tried too hard, and thought that was what love was supposed to feel like."

Andy adjusted his guitar strap. "It's also about coming out the other side," he said quietly into his mic.

Riley nodded, grateful. "It is. But we're going to go through some dark places first. And I need you guys to trust me on this journey, okay? Because where we end up... it's worth it."

She looked out into the crowd, and from the side stage where Joe stood with his friends, he could see the way she connected with every person in that room, making each of them feel like she was speaking directly to them.

"We made this album because we needed it to exist," she said. "And now it's yours. So let's go through this together."

The crowd erupted again, and Riley stepped back from the mic, nodding to Pete as the opening bass line of "Big Man, Little Dignity" began to pulse through the venue.

The song hit different live—heavier, more pointed. Riley's voice carried a controlled venom as she sang about smooth operators and shit-stained suits, her eyes scanning the crowd with an intensity that made everyone feel like they were part of the takedown. When she got to the bridge, her voice soared on "I memorized all your lies," and Joe felt the hair on his arms stand up.

The song built to its final chorus, Riley's voice cutting through the mix like a blade, before ending with that haunting repetition of "little dignity." The crowd was silent for a beat, processing, before exploding into applause.

Riley wiped sweat from her forehead, grinning. "That felt good," she said into the mic, and the crowd laughed. "That was 'Big Man, Little Dignity,' and it's about exactly what you think it's about."

She adjusted her mic stand, her expression growing more serious. "It's about someone who could get away with anything, so that's exactly what they did."

Pete leaned into his mic. "Riley wrote that one in about twenty minutes."

"Because I was pissed," Riley said with a laugh. "Sometimes the truth just falls out of you that fast."

She looked out at the crowd, her voice becoming more conversational again. "The next song is called 'I'm Not Mad.' And the thing is..." she paused, grinning slightly, "I was absolutely fucking furious when I wrote it."

Andy chuckled into his mic. "The title's a lie."

"Complete lie," Riley agreed. "But sometimes you have to tell yourself you're not mad before you can admit how mad you actually are. This one's got some bite to it."

She stepped back from the mic as the drum-heavy opening of "I'm Not Mad" crashed through the venue.

The drums crashed in with a vengeance, and "I'm Not Mad" exploded through the Troubadour with all the fury Riley had promised. The song was relentless—drum-heavy and sharp-edged, Riley's voice dripping with sarcasm as she delivered lines about hoping someone's back aches and knees hurt. The crowd was completely absorbed, some singing along to the chorus they'd clearly memorized from the early release.

When Riley got to the bridge about hoping he dreams of her, her voice took on this haunting quality that made the entire venue go silent except for the music. The song built to its final crescendo, Riley's voice soaring over the drums, before crashing to a stop.

The crowd erupted, and Riley laughed, shaking her head. "Okay, I feel better now," she said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "That was 'I'm Not Mad,' which is the biggest lie I've ever told myself."

"We could tell," Pete said dryly, and the crowd laughed.

Riley grinned. "The next song is called 'You Asked for This.' And this one..." she paused, looking out at the crowd with a slightly mischievous expression. "This one's about being told your whole life that you're too much. Too loud. Too intense. And also being told to grow up, be a big girl, handle your shit—and finally just saying, 'Okay, you want loud? I'll give you loud.'"

She adjusted her mic stand, her voice becoming more passionate. "It's about owning the reputation people gave you instead of trying to shrink yourself to make them comfortable. But it's also about wanting everything—wanting your cake and wanting to ruin all your plans at the same time. Like, you asked for this version of me—well, here she is."

Andy stepped closer to his mic. "This one gets loud."

"Very loud," Daniel confirmed, spinning his sticks.

"It's 90s grunge vibes," Riley said, her energy picking up again. "Because sometimes you need to scream about wanting everything and refusing to apologize for taking up space."

She looked directly out into the crowd, and from side stage, Joe found himself holding his breath.

"This is for everyone who's ever been told to be grateful for a life that doesn't fit," Riley said, taking the guitar a tech handed her as Andy's guitar came in with a grinding, distorted riff that immediately transported the venue back to the 90s.

"You Asked for This" hit like a freight train—all raw energy and rebellion. Riley's voice was powerful and unapologetic as she sang about summer feet and Levi's jeans, about wanting everything and refusing to apologize for it. When she got to the chorus, the entire crowd seemed to move as one, caught up in the song's defiant energy.

The bridge was pure chaos in the best way—Riley's voice breaking slightly as she sang about wanting a fist around her throat, wanting to cry so hard she chokes, the vulnerability mixed with the anger creating something electric. The song built to its climactic ending, Riley practically screaming the final lines before the music cut out abruptly.

The silence lasted for exactly one beat before the crowd exploded into the loudest applause yet.

Riley caught her breath as the applause died down, handing her guitar off to a tech who appeared at her side. The energy in the room was electric, but she could sense the shift coming—the move from rebellion into something more vulnerable.

"Alright," she said, her voice softer now. "We're about to take a turn here. The next song is called 'I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)." She paused, and a few people in the crowd laughed knowingly."

Pete stepped closer to his mic. "This is where Riley gets honest about her savior complex."

"Thanks, Pete," Riley said dryly, but she was smiling. "Yeah, this one's about thinking you can be the exception. About seeing someone's red flags and thinking, "But not for me. I can change him."

She looked out at the crowd, her expression becoming more serious. "It's about the delusion that love can fix anything. That if you just try hard enough, care enough, you can save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

Andy adjusted his guitar. "The bridge is brutal."

"The bridge is where I realize maybe I can't," Riley agreed. "But we get there when we get there. This one starts sweet, like a ballad, because that's how these things always start."

The opening chords rang out, gentle and almost romantic, as Riley's voice came in soft and vulnerable, singing about teaching lessons and fixing dangerous men. But as Joe watched from side stage, he could hear the building tension in the music, the way it was setting up for something darker.

When the song reached its crushing realization in the final line—"Whoa, maybe I can't"—the vulnerability in Riley's voice was devastating. The crowd was completely silent as the music faded.

Riley stood quiet for a moment, letting the weight of that song settle. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more introspective.

"That was hard to write," she said simply. "The next one was harder. It's called 'Ego,' and it's about falling apart while trying to look like you have it all together."

She looked down at her hands on the mic stand. "This one's about imposter syndrome, about feeling like you're still just a kid playing dress-up in an adult's life. About success not feeling the way you thought it would."

Daniel tapped his sticks gently. "This one's got some bite to it too."

"Pop-punk vibes," Andy added. "Because sometimes you need to scream about feeling like a fake."

"Riley looked back up at the crowd. "It's about the voice in your head that tells you everyone's going to figure out you don't belong. That maybe you don't even like who you've become." Her voice grew stronger. "But it's also about admitting that, which is the first step to doing something about it."

A tech handed Riley her guitar as the drums kicked in hard and fast, and "Ego" burst through the venue with raw, unfiltered energy."

The drums kicked in hard and fast, and "Ego" burst through the venue with raw, unfiltered energy. Riley's voice was both vulnerable and powerful as she sang about killing her ego before it killed her, about acting like a baby while trying to be grown up. When she got to the bridge about wanting to go back to the beginning when it all felt right, her voice cracked slightly with genuine emotion.

The song built to its climactic ending, Riley practically screaming about not being happy being herself, before cutting out abruptly. The crowd erupted, but there was something different in their energy now—deeper, more emotional. They were really feeling this journey with her.

Riley took a deep breath as the applause faded, and Joe could see her gathering herself for what was coming next. The energy in the room had shifted—they were deep in the emotional core of the album now.

"The next song," she said, her voice quieter, more careful, "is called 'Lonely Is the Muse.' And this one..." She paused, tuning her guitar. "This one's about what it feels like to be reduced to just inspiration for someone else's life. To be useful until you're not."

Andy stepped closer to his mic. "This is the one that made us all cry in the studio."

"Multiple times," Daniel added quietly.

Riley nodded. "It's about realizing you've been building yourself into whatever shape someone else needed, and forgetting who you actually were underneath all that." Her voice gained strength. "But it's also about having your whole career, everything you've built, reduced to just... material for someone else's story. Like suddenly you're not Riley Carter who's been doing this for ten years—you're just inspiration. Just a muse."

She looked out at the crowd, her voice becoming fierce. "I've earned platinum records, I've built this career from nothing, and somehow I let myself become small enough to fit in someone else's narrative. This song is about remembering who the fuck I am."

The opening notes were haunting—nu-metal with a slow burn that built gradually. Riley's voice was both vulnerable and powerful as she sang about being built from special pieces she learned to unscrew, about always reassembling to fit perfectly for whoever decided she was useful. When she got to the chorus—"Lonely is the muse"—her voice carried years of exhaustion and recognition.

The song built to its devastating bridge about being a wind chime in someone's window, existing just to decorate their life, before ending with that repeated, haunting "lonely is the muse." The venue was completely silent when it ended.

Riley stood still for a moment, letting that weight settle. When she spoke again, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"That was hard," she said simply. "The next one's harder. It's called 'People Disappear Here,' and it's about... disappearing. About trying to let someone else be you while you just... fade away."

She looked directly out into the crowd. "It's about hurting yourself to make sure you still exist. About needing someone to tell you how to feel because you've forgotten how."

Pete's bass came in low and ominous, and the song unfolded like a nightmare—slow, grunge-heavy, Riley's voice floating over the music like a ghost. When she sang about hurting herself to make sure she existed, about pinching herself to make sure she was real, the rawness in her voice was almost unbearable. The repetition of "people disappear here" became a mantra, a warning, a cry for help all at once.

The song faded into silence, and the crowd seemed afraid to breathe.

Riley wiped her eyes quickly, and Joe could see her hands shaking slightly. "The next song," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "is called '3-17.' I wrote this song four days before my birthday, almost two years ago."

She looked down at the stage floor for a moment, then back up at the crowd. "This one's just... the truth."

The guitar came in heavy and raw, and "3-17" hit like a punch to the gut. Riley's voice was stripped bare as she sang about feeling in debt for every night spent in his bed, about words she couldn't say right. When she got to the lines about sour grapes and the same bullshit laugh, her voice cracked with genuine pain.

The song ended with devastating simplicity, just Riley's voice and guitar, singing "I didn't plan for that." The silence that followed felt infinite.

From side stage, Joe watched the crowd, many with tears in their eyes, all of them completely absorbed in Riley's journey. His friends stood beside him, equally transfixed. This wasn't just a performance—it was an exorcism, played out in front of 500 people who were bearing witness to one woman's truth.

The silence after "3-17" stretched on, heavy and profound. Riley stood at the mic, visibly emotional, looking out at a crowd that seemed to be collectively holding its breath.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice softer than it had been all night. "Everyone doing alright out there?"

A few voices called back "yes" and "we're with you," and Riley smiled, wiping at her eyes again.

"I know that was heavy," she said. "Those three songs... that's the deep end. That's where you realize you've lost yourself completely." She looked around the crowd, making eye contact with different sections. "But here's the thing about hitting rock bottom—eventually, you get pissed off about it."

Pete stepped closer to his mic. "Here comes the fun part."

"Define fun," Andy said dryly, and the crowd laughed, some of the tension breaking.

Riley's expression shifted, something harder coming into her eyes. "We're about to get angry now," she said, and there was a warning in her voice that made the whole venue sit up straighter. "The next three songs are... they're rage. Pure, unfiltered rage. And I need you to stay with me through it, because this anger? It's what saved me."

She looked out at the crowd one more time. "The next song is called 'Easier Than Lying.' And it's about what happens when you finally stop lying to yourself about someone loving you." She grinned slightly, some of her usual playfulness returning. "Also, I wrote the bass line for this one, so Pete had to learn my bass line. Let the record show - that bass line is mine."

"She's very proud of that," Pete said into his mic, but he was smiling.

"I am proud of that," Riley shot back. "It's a fucking good bass line."

The opening chords hit like a freight train—guitar-heavy with an underlying scream that seemed to come from somewhere deep and primal. Riley's voice came in powerful and raw, singing about being made into a villain, about hanging herself with rope someone else provided. When she got to the chorus about losing all faith and hope, her voice carried years of betrayal and exhaustion.

But it was the bridge that really hit—"Losing you is easier than lying to myself that you love me"—repeated like a mantra, like something she had to keep telling herself until she believed it. Joe recognized these lyrics from that night in LA, but hearing them in context, surrounded by the full emotional journey, they hit completely differently.

The song ended with devastating finality, and without pause, Riley handed off her guitar and moved to the piano.

"'Mad Woman,'" she said simply, and the piano began—restrained but simmering with controlled fury.

This was different from anything they'd heard so far. Riley's voice was controlled, almost conversational, as she sang about scorpions and mad women. But there was something terrifying in that control, like she was holding back a hurricane. When she got to the chorus—"And there's nothing like a mad woman"—her voice was both beautiful and dangerous.

The song built slowly, Riley's anger becoming more apparent with each verse, until she was practically spitting the words about taking her time because someone took everything from her. The crowd was mesmerized, watching this masterclass in controlled rage.

As "Mad Woman" ended, Riley's energy shifted again, something wilder coming into her eyes.

Riley stood up from the piano, her energy shifting to something rawer. "Lilith," she said, and that single word seemed to charge the air in the venue.

She walked back to center stage, grabbing the mic. "This one's about becoming exactly what someone said you were. About leaning into being called destructive, corrupted, disgusting - and just saying 'fine, if that's what you think I am, I'll show you what that actually looks like.'" Her voice carried an edge. "It's about the version of yourself that emerges when you stop trying to be palatable."

She looked out at the crowd, something fierce in her expression. "Sometimes you have to embrace being the villain in someone else's story. This is me doing exactly that."

The opening was industrial, grinding, unlike anything else they'd played. Riley's voice came in almost seductive before turning sharp and cutting. This was Riley at her most dangerous, singing about being corrupted and destructive, about fucking like a demon and being disgusting. The raw sexuality and anger were intoxicating and terrifying.

When she got to the bridge—"The more that you give away, the more that you have"—her voice was both broken and defiant, and Joe could see people in the crowd with their mouths open, completely transfixed by this display of unbridled emotion.

The song ended with a crash, and the venue erupted. But this wasn't just applause—this was catharsis. The crowd had been through something with her, and they were all feeling it.

As the applause from "Lilith" finally died down, Riley caught her breath, the wildness in her eyes slowly fading back to something more controlled. The crowd was buzzing with energy, but she could feel the shift coming—they were about to move into different territory.

"The next song," she said, her voice still carrying some of that edge, "is called 'Just One Yesterday.' And this one..." She looked back at Daniel, who was smiling behind his kit. "This is Daniel's favorite song we've ever written."

Daniel tapped his sticks together. "It's true. This one's special."

"It's pop-punk with heavy drums," Riley said, her energy picking up again. "It's about wanting to corrupt the voice in your head that tells you to be good. You know, choking the angel on your shoulder that says 'don't do it, be the bigger person.'" Her voice got sharper. "But it's also about giving someone all your love just so you can watch their face when you take it all away."

She paused, something fierce but controlled in her expression. "Sometimes the most devastating thing you can do is show someone exactly what they're going to lose. And then walk away."

Andy stepped closer to his mic. "The drums on this one are insane."

"Thank you," Daniel said with mock modesty, and the crowd laughed.

The drums kicked in immediately—heavy, driving, exactly what Riley had promised. "Just One Yesterday" was pure energy, all pop-punk fury and Daniel's incredible drumwork. Riley's voice was powerful and defiant as she sang about angels and halos, about trading tomorrows for yesterdays. When she got to the bridge about spilling her guts so the world would never look at someone the same way, her voice was both threatening and heartbroken.

The song built to its explosive ending, Daniel's drums absolutely thundering through the venue, before cutting out suddenly. The crowd went wild, and Riley could see Daniel beaming behind his kit.

"Daniel wrote that drum part," she said into the mic, still catching her breath. "And now he gets to show off every time we play it."

"Worth it," Daniel called out, and the crowd laughed.

"Riley's expression grew more serious. "The next song is called 'LOML.' Love of my life." She paused, walking back to the piano. "This one's... this is about mourning someone who's still alive. About realizing that everything you thought was real was just an impressionist painting."

She looked back up at the crowd. "It's about being told you're the love of someone's life about a million times, and then finding out what that actually meant to them."

The piano began, delicate and beautiful, and "LOML" unfolded like a tragic ballad. Riley's voice was achingly beautiful as she sang about waltzing back into rekindled flames, about embroidering memories and being told she was legendary. But as the song progressed, the pain became more apparent—the realization that what felt eternal was actually momentary.

When she got to the bridge about dancing phantoms on the terrace, about being second-hand embarrassed that she couldn't get out of bed, her voice cracked with genuine emotion. The final lines—she changed the lyrics, singing "I thought you were the loss of my life" instead of the recorded version—were delivered with such devastating clarity that the silence afterward felt sacred.

Riley stat still for a moment, letting that pain hang in the air. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more vulnerable.

"The last song before we get to the end," she said, "is called 'The Lighthouse.' And this one's about survival. About realizing that maybe you never wanted saving—you just wanted to be found."

Riley stood up from the piano and walked back to center stage. "It's about swimming with the devil and meeting sailors who aren't saviors. It's about being glad you met the devil because he showed you exactly who you are."

The opening was heavy, metal-adjacent, darker than anything they'd played yet. "The Lighthouse" was haunting and powerful, Riley's voice carrying both vulnerability and strength as she sang about being cursed with rage, about lighthouses and deep ends. When she got to the lines about showing sailors her teeth and laughing out loud because she never wanted saving, her voice was fierce and triumphant.

The song built to its crushing ending with the repeated "waves come crashing down," Riley's voice soaring over the heavy instrumentation before everything cut to silence.

The crowd was on their feet, but there was something different in their energy now—they could feel they were approaching something significant. They were almost at the end of this journey.

The silence after "The Lighthouse" stretched on, and Riley stood at the mic, looking out at the crowd with an expression that was both exhausted and determined. She could feel the weight of what was coming next.

"Okay," she said, her voice cutting through the quiet. "Two more songs, and I need you to stay with me for this next one." She paused, her hands gripping the mic stand. "It's called 'The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,' and it's... it's a lot. But it's the end of that chapter, I swear."

She looked down at the stage for a moment, then back up at the crowd. "This one starts as a ballad, and then it gets heavy. Really heavy. Because sometimes you have to burn everything down before you can build something new."

Pete stepped closer to his mic. "This is Riley's reckoning."

"This is me saying everything I never got to say," Riley said, her voice gaining strength. "Every question I never got to ask. Every piece of bullshit I had to swallow." Her eyes were fierce now. "This one's not pretty. This one's not…nice. This one's the truth, unfiltered."

Andy adjusted his guitar, and the venue could feel the tension building.

"I'm going to ask you to witness something," Riley said to the crowd. "And then we're going to walk into the light together. But first, we burn it all the fuck down."

The opening piano notes rang out, delicate and deceptively gentle, as Riley's voice came in soft and questioning, asking if any of it was true. But Joe could feel the building storm in the music, the way it was setting up for something explosive.

As the song progressed, Riley's voice grew more powerful, more accusatory. The questions became sharper, the observations more cutting. And then, when the song reached its turning point, the music exploded into something heavy and overwhelming, Riley kicking the mic stand down as her voice soared over the chaos, delivering line after devastating line.

The crowd was completely transfixed, watching this final exorcism play out in front of them. When the song finally ended with that crushing final line, the silence was absolute.

Riley stood, breathing hard, visibly shaken by what she'd just unleashed. But when she looked up at the crowd, there was something different in her eyes—relief, maybe. Or freedom.

The crowd went absolutely fucking crazy. The applause was deafening, people screaming and cheering, some crying, all of them having just witnessed something cathartic and brutal and necessary. Riley was still breathing hard, tears streaming down her face, but she was smiling through them.

"I told you it was heavy!" she called out over the noise, and the crowd cheered even louder.

She wiped her eyes, then walked over to the piano, settling onto the bench. The crowd gradually quieted, sensing this shift, this final moment.

"When I started writing this album," she said, her voice softer now, more intimate through the mic, "I was in a really dark place and I didn't give a fuck about hope or healing or any of that shit." She played a few soft chords. "But then, two years later, I wrote this next song. And at first, I wasn't gonna do anything with it."

She looked over at Pete, who was smiling at her. "I played it for this one, and he was like, 'Put it on the album,' and I was like, 'Absolutely not.'"

"She fought me hard on this," Pete said into his mic.

"But then," Riley continued, "I listened to the whole album front to back, and I was like... Jesus Christ, people are gonna want to jump off a bridge after this." The crowd laughed, some of them wiping their own tears. "So I put it at the end. Because sometimes you need to know there's light after all that darkness."

She positioned her hands over the keys. "This is 'Daylight.' And it's about letting go of all that hurt and stepping into the light with someone else. About what it feels like when love doesn't hurt anymore." She looked out at the crowd. "After everything we've been through together tonight... you've earned this."

The opening piano chords were gentle, hopeful, completely different from anything that had come before. And when Riley's voice came in, singing about not wanting to look at anything else now that she saw daylight, it felt like the sun rising after the longest night.

The song built beautifully, Riley's voice soaring as she sang about sleeping in a twenty-year dark night and finally seeing daylight. When she got to the spoken-word ending about being defined by the things you love, not the things you hate, her voice was soft but certain. The final piano notes hung in the air like a promise.

The crowd was on their feet before the last note faded, the applause thunderous and sustained. Riley stood from the piano bench, tears in her eyes but smiling, and walked back to join Pete, Andy, and Daniel at center stage. They took their bows together, the four of them who had created this journey and guided 500 people through it.

"Thank you," Riley said into the mic, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much."

She blew a kiss to the crowd, then walked off stage with her band, disappearing into the wings where Joe was waiting.

The moment she was out of sight of the audience, she walked straight into his arms.

* * *

The moment she was out of sight of the audience, she walked straight into his arms.

Joe caught her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her as she pressed her face into his neck. She was shaking slightly—adrenaline, emotion, exhaustion all hitting her at once after two hours of laying herself bare on stage. His own eyes were wet—hearing her sing the song she'd written about him, about them, in front of all those people had broken something open in his chest.

"Hey," he said quietly, one hand moving to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. "You did it baby. That was fucking incredible."

Riley pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes bright with tears but also something like relief. "Really? It didn't feel like too much?"

Joe cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on her cheeks. "Riley. That was..." He paused, searching for words that felt adequate. "I knew these songs, but hearing you perform them, seeing you up there... that was something else entirely."

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. "I was so nervous about you seeing me like that up there."

"Like what?"

"All of it. The rage, the pain, everything." She opened her eyes to meet his. "Performing it is different than just listening."

Joe studied her face, this woman who had just commanded a room of 500 people through an emotional journey that had left everyone—including him—completely transformed.

"I saw you," he said simply. "All of you. And it was everything."

Riley's breath caught slightly. Around them, people were moving—crew members, her friends, his friends—but everyone was giving them space, understanding that this moment was theirs.

"Our song," Joe said, his voice dropping lower. "Hearing it live, knowing..."

"Knowing it's about you," Riley finished softly.

"Yeah." His hands were still on her face, and he leaned down to kiss her—soft but certain, tasting the salt of her tears and the sweetness of relief. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "I've never had anyone write a song about hope because of me."

Riley smiled, the first real smile since she'd walked off stage. "Well, now you do."

"I'm proud of you," he said finally. "For all of it. For making this album, for tonight, for letting people see your truth."

Riley's eyes filled with fresh tears, but these were different—softer, warmer. "Thank you for being here. For bringing your friends. For making this feel safe."

Joe kissed her again, longer this time, his hands sliding into her hair. When they broke apart, both breathing a little harder, he smiled. "Come on. Let's get you some water before everyone wants to celebrate with you guys."

As Joe and Riley finally broke apart, still holding each other close, Micah was the first to approach. Zac and Trae hung back a few feet, still looking somewhat stunned.

"Riley," Micah said, his voice carrying genuine awe. "That was fucking incredible. I mean, we knew you could sing, but that was something else entirely."

Riley turned in Joe's arms to face him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thanks. That was... a lot. Even for me."

"The whole room was with you," Micah continued. "When you got to that last song, I looked around and half the crowd was crying."

Riley let out a shaky laugh. "I was crying too."

"Zac stepped forward then, his expression thoughtful. "That song at the end," he said quietly. "That was about our boy, huh?"

"Yeah," Riley said simply, not embarrassed or defensive. Just honest.

Joe's arm tightened around her waist, and Zac could see something in his expression—a kind of quiet pride mixed with something deeper.

"We should probably let other people congratulate you," Zac said, noticing the growing crowd of people waiting to talk to her—Pete, Andy, Daniel, along with various industry friends and crew members. "But seriously, thank you for letting us be here for that."

Riley smiled, the exhaustion starting to show around her eyes but genuine warmth still there. "Thank you for coming. It means everything to me that Joe's people got to see this."

Trae, who had been quiet this whole time, just watching, finally stepped forward. "Anyone Joe brings us to meet," he said simply, "is family."

Riley's eyes brightened at that, and Joe felt something settle in his chest at the easy acceptance in his friend's voice.

As people began to approach—Pete already making his way over with a huge grin, industry friends hovering nearby—Trae caught Joe's eye and nodded toward a quieter corner of the backstage area. Joe understood immediately.

Riley's eyes brightened at that, and Joe felt something settle in his chest at the easy acceptance in his friend's voice.

As people began to approach—Pete already making his way over with a huge grin, industry friends hovering nearby—Trae caught Joe's eye and nodded toward a quieter corner of the backstage area. Joe understood immediately.

"Go," Riley said softly, noticing the exchange. "I'll be right here getting my ego stroked by everyone."

Joe kissed her temple. "Five minutes."

Trae led him a few steps away from the growing crowd around Riley, far enough that they could talk without being overheard.

"Man," Trae said quietly, shaking his head. "I thought I understood what you were talking about on the plane. But seeing that..." He paused, watching as Riley hugged Pete, who was clearly emotional about their first show back. "Now I get it."

"Get what?" Joe asked, though he seemed to already know.

"Why you've been different. Why this matters so much to you." Trae looked directly at him. "She's not just talented, Joe. She's... I don't know how to say it without sounding like a hallmark card, but she's real. Like, all the way real."

Joe nodded, his eyes drifting back to Riley, who was now talking animatedly with Andy and Daniel, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the excitement of pulling off their first show in two years.

"And that last song," Trae continued. "The way she looked at you when she was singing it..." He let out a low whistle. "Dude. She's in love with you. Like, really in love with you."

"I know," Joe said quietly.

"And you?"

Joe was quiet for a moment, watching Riley laugh at something Daniel said, her whole face lighting up. "Yeah. I'm there too."

Trae studied his friend's profile. "Good. Because after what I just saw, if you fuck this up, I might have to kick your ass."

Joe cracked a smile. "Noted."

Meanwhile, Riley was surrounded by her band and friends, everyone talking at once about the performance. Pete had his arm around her shoulders, Andy was gesticulating wildly as he recounted the crowd's reaction during "Lilith," and Daniel was just grinning from ear to ear.

"I can't believe we pulled that off," Riley said, her voice still hoarse from two hours of singing. "First show back and we do the entire album? What were we thinking?"

"We were thinking it was time," Pete said simply. "And look at that crowd—they needed it. We all needed it."

Lola and Harlow pushed through the small crowd, both of them with tears in their eyes.

"Riley fucking Carter," Lola said, grabbing her in a fierce hug. "I've seen you perform hundreds of times, and that was something else."

"The 'Daylight' moment," Harlow added, fanning her face. "I'm not okay. None of us are okay."

Joe walked back over just as a woman with silver hair and kind eyes approached Riley, pulling her into a warm hug. "Riley, honey," she said, "that was absolutely incredible. I've been in this business for thirty years and that was something special."

"Thanks, Sarah," Riley said, and Joe could hear the genuine affection in her voice. "This is Joe."

Joe shook hands with the woman, who smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. I work with Republic on the distribution side—been following Riley's career for years. You must be so proud."

"I am," Joe said simply.

A man in his forties with kind eyes and a vintage band t-shirt joined them. "Riley! David from the label. That was everything we hoped for and more. 'Sunshine Riptide' is going to explode after people hear it in that context."

"Think so?" Riley asked, some of her performer energy returning.

"Absolutely. The way you set up the whole journey tonight, then hearing the single as part of that story..." David shook his head. "It's going to hit different when it comes out next week."

More friendly faces appeared—other musicians, a few photographers who'd been invited as friends, people from her management team. All genuine support, not business pitches. But Joe could see Riley's smile getting a little tighter with each conversation, the adrenaline starting to wear off.

Andy leaned in. “She’s running on fumes. We should probably get everyone moving soon.”

Joe glanced over at Riley, who was still smiling and nodding as someone from the label talked about radio play projections, but he could see the exhaustion creeping in around her eyes. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind the emotional weight of what she'd just put herself through on stage.

"Yeah," Joe agreed quietly. "Good call."

Andy nodded toward Riley, then looked back at Joe and his friends. "Pete's got cars waiting out back - we're all heading to his place to decompress. But listen..." He paused, glancing around to make sure Riley couldn't hear. "She's gonna crash hard in about twenty minutes. All that emotional shit she just put herself through up there? It catches up."

Joe understood immediately. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing dramatic," Andy said with a slight grin. "Just thinking maybe you lovebirds take one car, and we'll take the other one with your boys here." He looked at Zac, Micah, and Trae. "That cool with you guys? Give Riley some space to come down from all this?"

Trae caught on first. "Absolutely. We can ride with you guys."

"Perfect," Andy said. Then he raised his voice slightly, addressing the group. "Alright, people! Cars are here. Time to move this party to Pete's."

Riley looked over from the conversation she was having, relief flickering across her face. "Thank god. I love everyone, but I need to sit down somewhere that isn't moving."

As people started gathering their things and saying final goodbyes to industry friends who weren't coming to Pete's, Andy smoothly maneuvered the logistics.

"Joe, Riley - you're in the first car," he said casually. "Rest of us will follow in the second one."

Riley shot him a grateful look that Joe didn't miss. Andy just winked at her.

"Subtle," Pete murmured to Andy as they watched Joe slip his arm around Riley's waist, guiding her toward the exit.

"I'm amazing and deeply intuitive," Andy replied with a grin.

* * *

The black SUV pulled away from the Troubadour's back alley, the sounds of the city muffled through tinted windows. Riley sank into the leather seat beside Joe, finally allowing her shoulders to drop for the first time in hours.

"God," she breathed, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back against the headrest. "I forgot how exhausting that is."

Joe watched her carefully, noting the slight tremor in her hands as she pushed her hair back from her face. The adrenaline was leaving her system, and he could see the crash beginning.

"Come here," he said quietly, lifting his arm.

Riley didn't hesitate, sliding across the seat to curl into his side. She tucked her legs up and pressed her face against his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

"Better?" he asked, his arm tightening around her.

“Mmm.” Her voice was small. “Just let me stay like this for a second.”

They rode in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Riley's breathing gradually evening out as the tension left her body. Joe's hand moved in slow circles on her back, grounding her.

“I’m glad you brought your friends,” she murmured, still tucked into his side.

“Me too,” Joe said, his hand steady on her back.

"I kept seeing Zac during 'Lilith' and thinking, 'Oh god, Joe's friend is watching me sing about fuckin' like a demon.'" She laughed softly, but there was anxiety underneath it. "Very normal first impression."

“They weren’t judging you. They were… pretty blown away, honestly.”

Riley pulled back just enough to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"Besides, these guys have been in locker rooms before. They've heard worse."

She studied his face in the dim light from the passing streetlights. "I like them. Your friends. They feel like... like they really know you, you know? Not the public version."

"They do." His hand found hers, fingers interlacing. "Trae said you were real. All the way real."

Riley's expression softened at that.

She was quiet for a moment, her thumb tracing absent patterns on his palm. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller.

"You have to leave tomorrow."

"Yeah." The word came out heavier than he intended.

"And I really want to hang out with them tonight. Get to know them properly, not just the quick backstage thing." She paused, biting her lip. "But I also really want to just... be with you. Just us. And I'm running on fumes a bit."

Joe felt something twist in his chest at the vulnerability in her voice. This was the thing they never had enough time to figure out—how to want everything when there wasn't space for everything.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

Riley closed her eyes, considering. "I don't know. Both things? Neither thing?" She laughed shakily. "God, I'm a mess right now."

"You're not a mess. You just poured your heart out in front of 500 people for two hours. You're allowed to not know what you need."

The car slowed as they approached Pete's neighborhood, and Riley felt a flutter of anxiety. In a few minutes, they'd be back in a group, back to sharing him with other people when all she really wanted was to curl up somewhere quiet and just exist in his space.

"Maybe we can do both," Joe said quietly. "Hang out for a while, then find some time for just us."

Riley looked up at him, something grateful and tired in her eyes. "You sure? I don't want your friends to think I'm monopolizing you."

“They know I want alone time with you. Trust me, they’ll survive—and they seem pretty happy with your crew anyway.”

"Okay," she said softly. "Both things."

“I’ll tell them we’re ducking out early,” Joe said. “You don’t have to deal with it.”

Riley let out a slow breath. "Thank you, lovey. For taking care of me."

Joe squeezed Riley's hand once before reaching for the door handle. "Give me a sec," he said quietly.

Riley nodded, staying in the backseat as Joe stepped out. She used the moment to take a deep breath, pulling her small compact from her purse and checking her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup had held up well enough, though her eyes still carried that post-performance exhaustion. She could do this—a couple hours with everyone, then they could slip away.

Outside, Joe walked around to the driver's side window, which rolled down at his approach.

"Hey," Joe said, leaning down slightly. "We're gonna need you to stick around tonight. Probably a couple hours, but I'm not sure exactly when we'll be ready to go. After you drop us off at her place, you'll need to come back and take my friends to their hotel when they're ready - I'll give you the hotel info."

The driver nodded. "No problem. You want me to wait here or find somewhere nearby?"

"Here's fine, if that works for you." Joe pulled out his wallet, handing the man some cash. "For the wait time. I'll text when we need to head out."

"Sounds good, Mr. Burrow."

Joe straightened up, glancing back at the house where he could see shadows moving past the windows. Andy's laugh carried clearly through the night air, followed by what sounded like Micah's voice. His friends were already settling in.

He walked back to Riley's door and opened it, offering his hand. She took it, stepping out onto the gravel driveway. The night air was warm but carried a slight breeze that felt good after the enclosed space of the car.

"Better?" he asked, studying her face.

Riley straightened her shoulders, some of her usual confidence returning. "Yeah. Let's go see what kind of trouble your friends are getting into with mine."

* * *

Pete's house was alive with the kind of energy that only came after a show like tonight. The living room flowed into the kitchen and spilled out onto the back patio, every space filled with people Riley genuinely cared about—musicians she'd collaborated with, photographers who'd documented the band's journey, a few writers who understood what tonight had meant. Someone had queued up a playlist that was perfectly curated for the moment: nostalgic but not melancholy, celebratory without being too intense.

Riley moved through the crowd with a drink in her hand, accepting hugs and congratulations. She was genuinely happy to be here, feeding off the collective joy of people who understood what it took to put yourself out there the way she had tonight.

"That performance of 'The Smallest Man,'" said Maya, a singer-songwriter Riley had toured with years ago. "I got chills. Literal chills."

"Thanks," Riley said, meaning it. "It felt good to finally sing it the way it was supposed to be sung."

Joe stood nearby, nursing a beer and watching Riley light up as she talked to people who spoke her language. His friends had integrated seamlessly—Micah was deep in conversation with Daniel about drum techniques, while Zac and Trae were listening to Andy tell some story that had them all laughing.

"She's in her element," Trae said, appearing at Joe's side.

"Yeah, she is." Joe smiled, watching as Riley threw her head back laughing at something Pete said. "She needs this."

"But?" Trae prompted, reading his friend's expression.

Joe glanced around the room, noting how Riley's energy was bright but brittle around the edges. "She's been going nonstop for weeks. Tonight took everything out of her."

An hour in, Joe watched as Riley settled onto one of Pete's oversized couches, pulled into a conversation with three other musicians about the industry's changes over the past few years. She was engaged, animated, but he could see the way she kept shifting position, the slight tightness around her eyes that meant exhaustion was creeping in.

Andy passed by with a joint, offering it to Joe, who took a a few hits before passing it along. The weed added to the mellow atmosphere, conversations flowing easier, laughter coming more frequently.

"Joe!" Pete called out from across the room. "Come settle an argument. Who's the better quarterback—you or Tom Brady?"

"Brady," Joe said without hesitation, and the room erupted in protests.

"Bullshit," called out Marcus, a guitarist Riley had worked with. "Brady never had to rebuild a franchise from scratch."

Joe found himself pulled into a surprisingly nuanced conversation about football and pressure, his friends chiming in with stories from college that had everyone laughing. For a moment, he was just a guy at a party, not thinking about schedules or logistics.

But his eyes kept drifting back to Riley, who was now curled into the corner of the couch, still talking but with her legs tucked under her in that way that meant she was getting tired.

After another thirty minutes, Joe made his move. He caught Zac's eye across the room and nodded toward the kitchen. Micah and Trae followed naturally, the three of them stepping away from the main party.

"What's up?" Zac asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.

"I want to spend time with my girl," Joe said simply. "Tonight was huge for her, and we leave tomorrow. I want to take her home."

"Makes sense," Micah said immediately. "You should."

"Driver's gonna take us to her place, then come back for you guys. Hotel's all set—Sarah sent you the room details earlier. Everything's handled." Joe paused. "I'll meet you at the plane tomorrow."

Trae grinned. "Bathroom break at the venue, early exit from the party... I see a pattern here."

"Shut up," Joe said, but he was smiling.

"Seriously though," Zac said, "good call. She looked incredible tonight, but you can see she's exhausted."

"Plus," Micah added, "we like her people. We'll be fine here."

Joe nodded his thanks, then made his way over to where Pete, Andy, and Daniel were standing near the kitchen island, sharing what looked like a particularly strong joint.

"Hey," he said, joining their circle. "Can I talk to you guys for a sec?"

The three of them immediately gave him their attention, and Joe could see the protective instinct kick in—they were ready to handle whatever he needed to say about Riley.

"I'm gonna take Riley home," he said directly. "She's crashing, and I want some time with her before I have to leave tomorrow."

"Thank fuck," Andy said immediately. "I was wondering how long she was gonna try to power through."

"She's too polite to be the first one to leave," Pete added. "Especially when it's a party for her."

"But she needs to," Daniel said. "You can see it in her shoulders."

Joe felt something loosen in his chest at their immediate understanding. "Yeah. I figured I'd handle it so she doesn't have to be the one asking."

"Good man," Pete said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Trust me, she's ready for some quiet time with you."

"Driver's coming back for my friends," Joe added. "They're good to stay as long as you guys are up for it."

"Perfect," Andy said. "We'll take care of them."

Joe glanced back at Riley, who was now leaning heavily into the arm of the couch, her conversation with the other musicians still going but her participation becoming more listener than contributor.

"I'll go get her," he said.

"Joe," Pete called as he started to walk away. Joe turned back.

"Thanks for looking out for her," Pete said simply.

Joe nodded once, then made his way over to Riley. She looked up as he approached, a tired but genuine smile crossing her face.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey yourself." He settled onto the arm of the couch beside her. "You ready to get out of here?"

Relief flickered across her features so quickly he almost missed it. "Yeah, take me home, baby," she said quietly.

* * *

Riley's house felt like a sanctuary after the controlled chaos of the night. She kicked off her shoes at the front door and immediately reached for the light dimmer, bringing the harsh overhead lighting down to something softer, more intimate.

"Can we just get in bed?" she asked quietly, turning to face him. "I need to get this makeup off and I just want to be horizontal with you."

Joe smiled, understanding completely. "Yeah. Of course."

She led him toward her bedroom, already starting to work at the straps of her top. "I need like five minutes to wash my face."

"Take your time," he said. "I'll get changed."

"Joe could hear her moving around in the bathroom—the sound of water running, cabinet doors opening and closing. He found his clothes where she'd said they'd be, in the closet where he'd left them last time. Because this was how they'd been doing this—keeping pieces of each other's lives in both places, making the distance more manageable one t-shirt at a time.

When Riley emerged from the bathroom in an oversized t-shirt that hit her mid-thigh, her face scrubbed clean and hair loose around her shoulders, Joe slipped past her to brush his teeth. The familiar domesticity of it—sharing the small space, moving around each other—felt right in a way that still surprised him."

When Joe emerged from the bathroom in just his underwear and slipped into bed, Riley immediately moved to curl against him, her head on his chest, one leg thrown over his. This was what they'd both wanted all night—just this simple contact, no audience, no performance required.

His hand found her leg, fingers tracing slow lines along her thigh. Nothing urgent, just touch. Riley's breathing evened out, and she pressed closer, her palm flat against his chest.

He kept it simple—thumb brushing her hip bone, hand sliding up to her waist. When she tilted her head back to look at him, something shifted between them. The want that had been simmering all night, finally with space to breathe.

Riley moved first, leaning up to kiss him. Soft, then deeper when his hand slipped under her shirt. She made a quiet sound, and Joe felt her arch into his touch.

He rolled her back gently, taking his time. Her shirt rode up, and his mouth followed the path his hands had mapped. Riley's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

This wasn't for anyone else. Just them, finally able to take what they'd been wanting. Joe paid attention to every response, every shift, letting her body guide him.

When Riley whispered his name, breathless and needy, he knew he was exactly where she needed him to be.

His hands moved to the hem of her shirt, and she lifted her arms to help him pull it over her head. The sight of her beneath him, hair spread across her pillow, made his breath catch. She reached for him, her hands running over his bare chest, exploring the muscles she'd been wanting to touch all night.

Skin against skin, they moved together with the familiarity of lovers who knew each other's bodies. Joe's mouth found her neck, her collarbone, working his way down while his hands explored. Riley's back arched off the bed when he took her breast in his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

"Joe," she breathed, and the way she said his name—soft and desperate—made him lift his head to look at her.

Her cheeks were flushed, lips parted, eyes dark with want. She pulled him back up to kiss her, deep and hungry now, any trace of exhaustion burned away by need.

Joe's hand slipped between her thighs, finding her already wet for him. Riley gasped against his mouth, her hips rolling into his touch. He worked her slowly, watching her face, learning what made her breath hitch and her eyes flutter closed.

"Please, please, please," she whispered, and Joe didn't need more than that.

He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, then helped her out of her underwear. When he settled between her thighs, Riley wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Joe entered her slowly, both of them breathing hard at the sensation. Riley's head fell back against the pillow, a soft moan escaping her lips. He gave her a moment to adjust, then began to move, setting a rhythm that was unhurried but deep.

They found their pace together, bodies moving in sync, hands roaming, mouths finding each other between breathless gasps. Joe buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin, feeling her pulse against his lips.

Riley's nails raked down his back as he hit that spot inside her that made her gasp his name. She was close, he could feel it in the way her body tightened around him, in the way her breathing changed.

"That's it," he murmured against her ear, and Riley shattered beneath him, her body arching as she came. The sight and feel of her pushed Joe over the edge, and he followed with a low groan, burying himself deep inside her.

They stayed like that for a long moment, breathing hard, hearts racing against each other. Finally, Joe rolled to the side, pulling Riley with him so she was curled against his chest.

"Fuck," Riley breathed, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Mmm," she murmured against his skin. "Thank you, baby. For knowing what I needed."

Joe pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Always."

* * *

The next morning came too early. Joe woke to the sound of his alarm, Riley still curled against him, her breathing deep and even. He allowed himself a few minutes to memorize the moment—her hair spread across his chest, the way she fit perfectly against him—before carefully extracting himself from the bed.

Riley stirred as he moved around the room, gathering his things. "You leaving?" she mumbled, not opening her eyes.

"Flight's in two hours," he said quietly, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Go back to sleep."

She reached for him, pulling him down for a sleepy kiss. "Text me when you land."

"I will."

* * *

An hour later, Joe was in the back of the same SUV that had brought them from the venue, watching LA disappear behind them as he headed to the airport.

Joe settled into his seat on the private jet, already missing the warmth of Riley's bed. The flight back to Cincinnati would give him a few hours to decompress before training camp officially began tomorrow. His friends were spread across the cabin, Trae already asleep against the window, while Zac and Micah scrolled through their phones.

The plane had been in the air for less than an hour when Joe's phone rang. Mark's name on the screen.

"Yeah," Joe answered, keeping his voice low.

"We need to talk," Mark said without preamble. "There are rumors circulating that you were at some concert in LA last night. Riley Carter's show."

Joe glanced around the cabin, making sure his friends weren't listening. "Okay."

"Okay?" Mark's voice pitched higher. "Joe, training camp starts tomorrow. Everyone expects your full focus. The last thing we need is speculation about—"

"About what?" Joe interrupted, his tone remaining calm. "About me supporting my girlfriend?"

"About distractions," Mark said firmly. "You know how this works. Every move you make gets scrutinized, especially during the season. If people start connecting dots—"

"Let them connect dots," Joe said quietly. "I'm not doing anything wrong."

There was a pause on the other end. "This isn't like you."

"Maybe that's not a bad thing."

Bill's voice came through—they were on speaker now. "Joe, we're just asking you to be smart about this. Training camp is crucial. You can't afford to have your head somewhere else."

"My head's exactly where it needs to be," Joe replied. "I'm ready for camp."

"But—"

"I'm good," Joe said with finality. "We'll talk when I'm back."

He ended the call and set his phone aside, staring out the window at the clouds below.

"Everything alright?" Zac asked from across the aisle.

Joe looked over at his friends, who were all watching him now. Even Trae had opened his eyes.

"Management's worried about rumors," Joe said simply.

"About Riley?" Micah asked.

"Yeah."

Trae straightened in his seat. "What kind of rumors?"

"That I was at her show. Which I was." Joe shrugged. "They're concerned about distractions."

Zac snorted. "Distractions? Did they see what we saw last night? If anything, she makes you better."

"That's not how they see it," Joe said.

"How do you see it?" Trae asked quietly.

Joe was quiet for a moment, thinking about Riley falling asleep in his arms, about the way she'd looked at him when he told her he was proud of her, about how right it felt to have his worlds collide.

"I see the person I want to be with," he said simply.

Micah nodded approvingly. "Good. Because that woman is fucking incredible."

"And she's good for you," Zac added. "Like, really good for you. You were different last night. More... I don't know. Present."

"She makes you laugh," Trae said with a grin. "Makes you look relaxed. Like you're not carrying the weight of the world."

Joe felt the corner of his mouth twitch. "Yeah, she does."

"Then fuck what anyone else thinks," Micah said. "You're Joe fucking Burrow. You can date whoever you want."

"It's not that simple," Joe said.

"Why not?" Zac asked. "You're not doing anything wrong. You're not getting arrested, you're not causing drama. You're dating someone who clearly cares about you and supports what you do."

"And who's talented as hell in her own right," Trae added. "It's not like she needs you for anything. She's got her own thing going."

Joe nodded, appreciating their perspective. "Mark and Bill see it differently."

"Those mother fuckers see dollar signs and PR nightmares," Micah said. "They don't see the person who makes you happy."

"Are you happy?" Zac asked directly.

Joe thought about the question. Was he happy? Six months ago, he would have said he was content. Focused. On track. But happy?

"Yeah," he said, surprising himself with how certain he sounded. "I am."

"Then that's all that matters," Trae said. "Everything else is just noise."

Joe leaned back in his seat, his phone buzzing with a text from Riley.

Riley: miss you already. good luck at camp tomorrow. go be great ❤️

He smiled—that real smile his friends had just mentioned—and typed back.

Joe: miss you too. thanks for last night. all of it

Riley: thank YOU. for everything

Joe set his phone down and looked around at his friends, who were all pretending not to watch him text.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," Zac said innocently. "Just nice to see you like this. Remember that feeling."

Joe shook his head, but he was still smiling. "Get some sleep. We land in two hours."

As his friends settled back into their seats, Joe stared out the window again. Training camp would be intense, the media scrutiny real, the pressure enormous. But for the first time in his career, he had something—someone—that felt more important than managing everyone else's expectations.

* * *

Social Media Rumors

DeuxMoi Instagram Story

💌 Spotted — Bengals QB at a certain West Hollywood venue this weekend…could it be Joe B at the Troubadour? Multiple submissions say he was seen at a Riley Carter show, but so far, no pics. If you were there, slide into the DMs! 👀 #whoswatchingwho #rileycarter #joeburrow

Twitter/X

@NFLRumors Was Joe Burrow spotted at a concert in LA last night? Multiple unverified reports saying he was at the Troubadour. Training camp starts tomorrow 👀 #WhoDey

@CincyFootballFan Replying to @NFLRumors If true, hope he's focused on football and not distractions

@BengalsBabe22 Replying to @NFLRumors Let the man live damn. It's the off-season

@RileyCarterNews Riley Carter performed her full album at Troubadour last night and it was INCREDIBLE. Also hearing rumors about a certain NFL QB being there 👀

@SportsGossip BLIND ITEM: Which NFL quarterback was spotted at his rumored girlfriend's concert last night instead of preparing for training camp? 🏈🎤

TikTok

@troubadourfan23 Video of crowd at Troubadour "okay so I was at Riley Carter's show last night and there were definitely some non-music industry looking guys side stage... like very professional looking? idk but the energy was different"

@bengalsgirl_ Text overlay: "Joe Burrow supposedly at a concert in LA????" "Y'all I'm seeing rumors everywhere but like... training camp is TOMORROW. This better not be true or I'm gonna be pressed"

@musicinsider_ "Riley Carter's show was INSANE last night. She performed the whole album and there were definitely some VIP guests. Won't say who but 👀👀👀"

Reddit

r/nfl Joe Burrow spotted at concert in LA night before training camp?

Top comment: Source? I've been seeing this on Twitter but no actual proof

Reply: DeuxMoi posted about it. Take that for what it's worth

Reply: "If this is true and he's not focused on camp I'm gonna lose it 

Reply: Come on, if he actually cared he’d make it public. No way he’s sneaking around for six months and not getting caught once. Probably just PR or wishful thinking.

r/RileyCarter Did anyone else notice the VIP guests at the Troubadour show?

Top comment: There were definitely some people side stage who weren't industry. Security was tight around that area

Reply: Omg do you think it was actually him?? That would be SO random

Reply: Not that random if they're dating lol. The timeline matches up with when the rumors started

r/bengals Burrow supposedly at concert instead of preparing for camp

Top comment: It's literally two days before. Y'all act like he needs to be in a sensory deprivation tank preparing

Reply: This is why we can't have nice things. Focus on football Joe

Reply: Let him date whoever he wants damn

Reply: Not buying it. Joe’s whole brand is low drama and Riley Carter’s been all over the place lately. Seems like Deuxmoi just recycles the same names every few months.

r/JoeBurrowGossip So Deuxmoi posted a tip that Joe Burrow was at Riley Carter’s concert at the Troubadour. No photos but multiple submissions. Anyone have any tea? Seems wild for him to be out here days before camp.

Top comment: This man has ninja-level stealth, but honestly? If true, it’s kind of cute.

Reply: I was at the show—no idea if he was there, but there were some big dudes in the back who looked like athletes.

Reply: Can’t wait for the “my QB is distracted” discourse if we lose Week 1. Hope she’s worth the drama.

Reply: I just don’t see Joe with someone who’s such a mess tbh. I’ll believe it when I see a photo. They’ve been “rumored” since February but not a single real sighting? If he was really into her, wouldn’t he want to be seen together?

Reply: She’s cool and all, but I just don’t see Burrow hiding out backstage for anyone. No pics, no proof, same old story.

Instagram Comments

@bengals latest post Training camp announcement

@cincyfan99: "Hope Joe's head is in the game and not at concerts 👎"

@whodeynation: "Y'all are so dramatic it was ONE NIGHT"

@burrowstan: "The rumors aren't even confirmed chill"

News Headlines

ESPN "Bengals QB Joe Burrow Rumored to Attend Concert Night Before Training Camp"

TMZ Sports "JOE BURROW MYSTERY CONCERT APPEARANCE?? Spotted at LA Venue Hours Before Camp"

Cincinnati.com "Social Media Buzzes with Unconfirmed Reports of Burrow at Los Angeles Concert"

Sports Illustrated "Training Camp Distractions? Burrow Allegedly Seen at Rock Show"

[yabagofmilfs]

Ok but now i need the charity bag lore and how bad each one of them was

this sent me down a bit of a rabbit hole because how have i had three charity bags when i've only been watching the pens since the 2022-2023 season? (i actually went back to my blog archive to double check this and yep - first post August 2022.) was there some other charity thing where jerseys were involved? last year was the backpack, the previous was the gear bag, the first ??? why is my brain swiss cheese. maybe the first two i remember as separate events but were actually the same bag. that seems the most logical answer but who can say.

anyway. the universe and my place in it is a beautiful mystery.

signed dumo....something. was it just a puck or was there also a jersey? jesus christ what is wrong with my brain. anyway—listen, it's impossible not to have affection for dumo, he's a sweetheart with the face of an angel. but it was my first year watching the pens and he was not playing well, and i didn't have the benefit of experiencing his Golden Years to justify keeping a signed puck and potentially? jersey? idk. i sent it to the president of his fan club so it could be appreciated as it deserved.

there was some mix up this year, i can't remember if it got lost in the mail or something happened on the pens foundation side, but it took a long time to get my bag. (the pens foundation folks are lovely and have never done a single thing wrong in their life, btw.) anyway so close your eyes and walk with me here: after weeks of waiting you finally receive the thing you paid a truly stomach turning amount of money for on the off-chance you'll get something special. you slowly unzip the bag and oh my god, there's a jersey and holy shit that's a 7—is it, could it be...? no. :) it's jeff carter. :) i gave it to cora, whose husband wore it to opening night last season when carter got booed, which was very sad and mean. so it's potentially a cursed artifact now.

last year i went back and forth about getting a bag for weeks. i decided that i wouldn't do it, it was an irresponsible amount of money for what was mostly clutter i wouldn't use. but then what did i do when the time came? i not only bought the bag, but the more expensive tier of the bag that would guarantee a signed jersey. and the result is really my own fault because i said out loud to a friend something to the effect of, "the odds of a good outcome are pretty high, there's only one person i'd be truly disappointed to get." and whose jersey did i get? you're right, it was jarry. i sent him to a loving home as well.

so, you see. i just can't do it anymore. even if i were to be very irresponsible and get the tier with a guaranteed jersey, the odds of me getting the one person i wouldn't be excited about has got to be around 100%. unless i've already used up all my bad karma and this is finally my year.............?

[zabala0z]

Welcome to “New Fan consistently listens to TMA S2 while playing Minecraft and dying by a skeleton” I’m your host: the new fan. Or I dunno if I’m considered a new fan since I’m listening to s2 but I guess the podcast was made in 2016 and I finally got to it circa 2024. Anyways! Gotta get to it! Post too long already!

MAG 57: Personal Space

Eughhh this one is like top 5 TMA EPS of creeping me out. Lot of stuff here so I’m gonna talk a while. For example, Conrad Lukas was in charge of the project and the Lukas family was shown in Alone and Boatswain Call. Speaking of the latter, Nathaniel Lukas gave an investment to the project. He was the captain of that ship in MAG 33. Pinnacle Aerospsce is majority owned by the Fairchild family WHO CANNOT STAY OUT OF PEOPLES BUSINESS 💀

Carter, the guy who did the project, also had that feeling of being utterly alone in this damn void. He said the line between reality and dreaming was blurred, finding himself in space, a graveyard or an empty ocean. The latter two I think are a reference to Alone and High Pressure respectively which all have the theme of “loneliness, stranded, etc” in common.

The whole “being alone in a large empty space” has been a pattern. The Fairchild family features in that theme and even the Lukas family in Alone. Optic Solutions Limited is based in Norway but the only connection I can figure out is that Jurgen Leitner was from Norway but maybe there was something I missed. Anyways that’s it. God 😭

Nothing much on MAG 58: Rations. Another kind of emphasis on meat. I felt so bad for the unknown lady :( (EDIT 9/2: Benjamin Carlisle shares the same last name as Toby Carlisle and both have very prominent meat themes. God.)

MAG 59: Recluse

Oh boy Raymond Fielding. From what I heard before, I thought he was a good guy since like y’know he took in troubled kids but noooo. He seems to be like the same thing as that woman from Children of the Night. Creepy spider thing. Also; that damn table. Now we finally know what happened to the middle of the table, like the square. Also the apple; Same apple Evo found in burned out. Even described the same. Agnes also, in my theory, a good person because she kissed Ronald’s cheek before he left and then was persuaded to go down to the study where his cheek started burning and snapped him out of it. I think she’s good. I dunno what her deal is but still.

Also, again, the table. It’s definitely the same table. How did Graham find it? He said he bought it in a second hand shop in MAG 3. Did Ray donate it after the events? Did the house burn down but the table still survived? Like god. How did the middle part of the table end up under the tree? With the apple? I have so many questions.

MAG 60: The Observer Effect

Another eye theme. Not many connections but I’m assuming she wanted to blow up the Magnus institute with those barrels of petrol. Maybe she found out something her brother was involved in which she blamed the institute for. I think he didn’t die of a stroke because no one ever dies of natural causes, I mean come on.

Also. Jon getting an intervention is the funniest thing ever. Like he was like before “they’re avoiding me and giving me fruitful glances, they’re up to something” like my dude, they are worried about you 💀

“Yeah sorry if I’ve been distant”

“You literally watch my house”

“You rummaged through my desk”

“You said I was lying about a murder”

I’m literally cackling. They’re not even wrong, Jon is going a little cray cray from all this. He needs an emotional support cat I think.

[watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees]

Burn

Force of nature - masterlist

TW: vampire whumper, human whumpee, mind control, vampire attack, home invasion

Carter spent her entire day away from home, being dragged left and right by other hunters, to map out new vampire lairs that sprouted up from the ground like weeds in the spring, and to plan raids.

When she busted through the door that morning, disheveled and barely having slept, she wanted nothing more than to explain, for anyone to tell what happened the night before. But the words didn’t seem to come. She was met with a few questioning glares, and some knowing smirks, of course her colleague’s minds went there, and she muttered a meek sorry for entering with such noise and sat down on a chair, just a few feet away from everyone else.

She took a deep breath and tried again, but before she could speak she bit down on her own tongue. I was attacked again.

Again? She questioned herself. She would have to explain what happened at the restaurant. That the monster walked among them and she did nothing. 

Deep down she knew that was not true, she did what was best to protect her family from the creature that seemed to lack any fear being around a group of hunters and would easily tear a couple of humans to shreds before they kill him if it meant he got revenge on Carter.

I was attacked last night. The words died on her tongue before she could utter them. Something was wrong. She spent the rest of her day trying to figure out how to let anyone know. The hold on her tongue never let up, not around the abandoned buildings they searched for any monstrous presence, not back in the safety of the office space they rented.

She was exhausted by the time she got home. She kicked her shoes off and walked upstairs to finally get some well deserved rest. She didn’t bother to rid herself of her gear, a set of stakes secured to her hips and thigh with a thick leather contraption, no matter how uncomfortably they pressed against her through the rough denim jeans. She just needed to sleep, she’d worry about comfort later.

Carter woke up in the middle of the night, freezing. Of course she lied on top of her blanket, but she was fully clothed and simply being cold didn’t explain the breeze on her face. She blinked a few times, to clear her vision as much as she could to look around in the room dimly lit by a streetlamp just outside. She didn’t remember opening her window that was now opened wide. She got up and closed it, and almost dropped back onto her bed when she saw light coming from downstairs. 

The remaining sleepiness left her mind in an instant, and Carter knew she could not afford to panic. Somehow she knew it would be the vampire again, but the fact that he didn’t attack her set her on edge worse than if she woke up with a set of fangs lodged in her throat. 

She took a stake in hand and raised it above her shoulder, ready to defend herself, and started her descent down the stairs.

The living room was empty, no indication of an intruder’s presence. The windows were thrown wide open from the crosswind, it lifted up and tugged on the white curtains, that even in the light of the bright ceiling lamp looked like ghosts. She rushed to close all of them. The windows were old and locked badly anyway, and she had been so tired, she might have left the lights on-

“It’s really cold in here isn’t it?” She jumped, looking for the source of the voice raising the stake back up above her head. Julius stood in the entryway, casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of him. He was too far away for Carter to chuck the stake at him with any real effect, but she didn’t want to risk getting closer to him either.

“I’m not too bothered by it, but I’m sure your body needs to be kept warm for that sweet blood to keep flowing”

She wasn’t sure if the tremors shaking her body were caused by fear or the cold. It was so stupid. She felt stupid for becoming this easily startled by the creature. She’d faced many of them, killed a couple without giving a second thought to being afraid. 

This was different, Julius stood in her own living room as if he owned the place, waiting for her next move with a smirk as if this was some sort of game to him. Carter didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of reacting out of fear. She stood still and stared back at the vampire.

He glanced up at the stake in her hand.

“I see you have some nice firewood lying around, how about you warm up the place?”

Carter lowered the stake and ripped her eyes away from Julius’ gaze to look at the weapon in her hand.

She felt like she was in a dream, as she considered what he said. She was so cold. The windows had been open for hours letting the cold autumn air in, freezing her to the core. 

She unclipped the leather strap mindlessly from her belt and took all of her stakes out, to place them on the iron grate in the fireplace.

“Get all of them from the house, this won’t warm you up” Julius’ voice was barely louder than a whisper in her ear. She looked around and obeyed the suggestion eagerly. It was so cold. She grabbed at least five more stakes from a beat-up duffel bag, some spares from behind books on the shelf above the couch. She was thorough, ripped up the loose floorboard just in front of the mantel, to get to an emergency stash, and placed all of them in a neat pile, before going upstairs to retrieve the few she hid around her room. 

The vampire watched her with cold, distant eyes. He grew more resentful by the second eyeing the stakes gathered in the fireplace. His back ached where the splinter was still lodged dangerously close to his spine.

“Is that all?” he asked Carter when she stopped piling up the firewood. She nodded, another cold shiver ran through her and she swayed gently back and forth on her feet. Julius was sure she felt like she was in a dream, fully dazed and oblivious to what was happening.

“Good” he pushed himself away from the doorframe and picked up the matchbox on top of the mantel, lit a match and threw it on the pile.

The dry wooden stakes caught on fire with roaring flames in no time. Carter looked mesmerized by it, and instinctively reached her hands to get closer to the warmth. 

Julius scoffed and pulled her back by the shoulder. She whined softly, but didn’t protest. 

He grabbed her hair and tilted her head to the side easily. He noticed the thin silver necklace protecting her just in time before he bit down and he laughed. That was smart on her part, but not nearly enough. She'll have to get rid out of it soon.

He ran a hand down her arm and checked for any silver bracelets. There were none. He pulled the sleeve of her jacket up a few inches and lifted her hand to his mouth.

[sparrow-in-the-field]

Chapter 4 of The Walk Home got me thinking about how it'd be cute if after the rough start, Don and the new cox end up becoming friends, and when Bobby finds out (obviously much later), he is a little bit jealous, which Don finds amusing because it is (obviously) purely platonic. Anyway here are two drabbles about that :> under the cut because they're a bit long (also don't read until you've read ch 4 unless you don't care about spoilers!)

Just for clarification: the new cox is an OC, not based on anyone from the movie or any real life people

Winter 1936

Don asked the rest of the crew to not tell the newbies why they were having a bonfire; a bit embarrassed over his panicked, near running away, he preferred they didn't know. None of them knew him that well, or about what had happened in Berlin, and it was too hard to explain. He'd rather they just think he was a quiet, somber guy, and leave it at that. The guys were understanding, and just told the newbies it was a crew bonding experience. They all bought it, except for maybe Carter, their new cox. The scrawny sophomore was quieter than Bobby had been, more reserved when he wasn't in the shell, and his wary glances over to Don during the idle chatter of the bonfire didn't go unnoticed by the stroke. Don had been taking issue with whatever cox Ulbrickson put in front of him the whole semester, and it all came to a head with Carter. The sophomore didn't tolerate Don's rebellion the way the other two Ulbrickson had tried putting the shell did. Carter didn't seem to care that Don was the Olympic champion stroke, he expected Don to listen to him, and he called Don out when he didn't. Don had snapped at him earlier in the day, and he now realized he owed the young boy an apology. When the fire had died down to mostly glowing embers, late enough in the night that the crew was ready for bed, all of them still chatting and laughing the way they had all night as they got up to leave, Don spoke up. "Carter," he said, causing everyone to freeze and stare at him. He could barely meet the boy's gaze in the dark of the night. "Can you stick around a minute?" The boy seemed tense, but he gave a short nod. "Sure." He sat back down, near Don, but not too close. He stared into the embers of the fire, and he didn't speak.

Don took in a breath, deciding to stare into the dying fire, too. "What do you know about Bobby Moch?"

The question must have been unexpected, because Carter turned his gaze to look at Don quizzically. "Your cox from last year?"

Don nodded.

Carter shrugged, gaze returning to the fire. "Just the same as what everybody knows. He's a coxing legend now, after leading you guys through Poughkeepsie and the Olympics. He was a genius when it came to strategy; rumor among coxes is Ulbrickson knew before he even had the Olympic crew together that Moch would be the cox, no matter what."

Don smiled, tried to fight down the ache in his chest that remembering Bobby too fondly would always cause. "That's true." He looked at the boy. "Anything else?"

Carter met Don's gaze, looking him over, seeming to bite his tongue. He finally took the bait, "I'd see him around sometimes last year, when I was a freshman. He—he didn't have a bird."

"Right," Don said. He waited a beat, the logs shifting in the firepit, the remnants of the wood still crackling. "Bob and I were in love."

It was the first time he had ever said it out loud; the guys seemed to understand, but he’d never said it in so many words to any of them. The only time he ever said it outright was to Pip in his dreams. But it was true, and feeling his voice sound out the words didn't make him waver; in a way, it felt reassuring, felt good, to really say it.

Carter looked over at him again. "You were dating?"

Don's lips downturned in a pout, and he shook his head. "It was complicated, since Bobby didn't have his bird. He left after Berlin, and asked to never see me again, because he doesn't want me to see him die. He's off somewhere in Europe now."

Carter drew in and exhaled a breath, shaking his head. "That's awful."

"Yeah," Don said quietly.

"It was kind of a jackass move, just ditching you like that."

Don couldn't help chuckling at the young cox’s bluntness. He picked at the blades of grass at his feet, chucking them towards the firepit. 

"Yeah, he could be a jackass sometimes," he said, not even pretending to hide his fondness. He hummed, turning to look at Carter. "It's been really hard having someone else in front of me besides Bob. The two of us, we had this...connection. It's not something I expect to ever have again with anyone else." Don took a beat, drawing in a breath. He looked down at his hands, but made sure to meet Carter’s gaze as he said, "But that doesn't mean I can't listen to what you say. It’s my job as stroke to do what you call, and I should trust your judgment. I'm sorry I've made my personal issues your problem, and I'm gonna try to do better from now on."

Carter studied him for a long moment before he nodded. "Thanks, Don. To be honest, having to fill Moch’s shoes—it’s been intimidating. I’ve been trying to hold my own, but hell, I’m supposed to boss around Olympic gold medalists? As a sophomore?”

The both of them laughed, and Don nudged him. “You’re doing better than the two juniors before you.”

“Really?”

“It’s why I got sent to Ulbrickson’s office today and not you to get replaced,” Don said with a huff, and then he stood up. “Come on, it’s getting cold with the fire out. Let’s go back to the house.”

The two walked across the lawn, Carter having to take double the steps to keep up with Don’s long strides.

“Hey, Don?” he spoke up after a beat.

“Yeah?”

“Did you really row in the Olympics with a terrible fever?”

Don chuckled. “Sure did.”

“Man. How did you do it? How’d you pull it off?”

“Honestly?” Don looked over at Carter, giving a smirk. “I have no fucking idea.”

Carter grinned. “So cool.”

Don huffed a laugh, and he gave the kid a playful shove as they continued back to the house.

Fall 1938

Don was excited to be back in Seattle; just last year, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable with the idea of returning. But now, with Bobby back in his life, safe and permanently, he was happy to be back home.

He liked watching Bobby prepare for the next semester of rowing—freshman tryouts had just started, and even when he was back on the ship with Don after work, he’d be toiling over notes and ideas for the team.

“The returning crew gets in next week,” Bobby said when Don asked how it was going. He chuckled, “But that’s Al’s problem.”

Don laughed, too, but then a thought occurred to him, one that made him brighten with a smile. “Wait, I bet Carter’s still on the team! He’d be a senior this year. Oh man, I need to drop by practice sometime to see him.”

Bobby furrowed his brow, looking up from his notes. “Who’s Carter?”

“He coxed the boat after you,” Don said.

“Oh.” Bobby seemed to sulk, looking down at his notes with a pout as he muttered, “I didn’t know there was another cox in your life.”

Don nearly snorted a laugh. “We couldn’t exactly leave your seat empty after you left, Bob.”

Bobby hummed indignantly. He shut his notebook. “Was he as good as me?”

Don rolled his eyes. “Don’t be mean.”

Bobby stood up as he gave a coy smirk, shrugging with faux innocence. “It was just a question.” He stepped over to the counter, setting down his things. “So, you were…close, with this new cox?”

Don hummed, amused by Bobby’s jealousy. “We became pretty good friends, after a bit of a rough start.”

“I see. I’ll have to keep an eye out for him at practice, see if he’s any good.”

Don chuckled, standing up to follow Bobby to the counter. “He’s like four years younger than you, Bob—don’t bully a kid out of jealousy.”

“Jealous? Do I have something to be jealous of?” Bobby said, still playing up the feigned innocence.

“Not unless you’re going to be jealous of someone who feels like a little brother to me,” Don said with a smirk. He reached down, tucking his hand to hold Bobby’s chin, prompting him to meet his gaze. He spoke more sincerely, “You know no one’s ever come close to replacing you in the space you fill in my heart. They never could have—you never left it.”

Bobby’s eyes softened at the words, and he dropped the coy act for a moment, bringing his hands up to Don’s chest. “You’re my stroke. You always were.”

Don hummed fondly, placing a kiss to Bobby’s forehead before meeting his eyes again. “And you’re my cox, Bobby. Always.”

Bobby smiled, his eyes glistening a bit, before he reached up and kissed Don. When he pulled away, he arched a teasing brow. “But really—was he as good as me?”

Don laughed. He brought both of his hands up, holding Bobby’s face. “Let’s put it this way: there’s only one of you that I share an Olympic gold medal with.”

Bobby smirked, clearly happy with the answer. “That’s what I thought.”

Don hummed, leaning in to kiss him again.

[hippiemisfit]

Hush (J.K.) 2

Chapter Two- Accomplice

pairing: jungkook x oc reader

Word Count: 1,280

Warnings: scary jk. intimidation, fear

---------------------------------------------

The doorbell ringing woke me up. I sat up in bed and grabbed my head, groaning in pain from the throbbing headache that was starting.

What happened?

How did I get back up here?

The doorbell rang again. Ugh.

I walked downstairs and headed to the door. I passed by a mirror on the way and was horrified by what was there. On the mirror it said,"I'm watching you," in what I hope was just red paint. I looked at my face and saw what I hoped was still that red paint. I quickly ran to the kitchen sink and scrubbed my face real fast before I opened the door.

I grabbed one of the dish towels to dry my face and headed to the door. I guess the person at the door was getting more fed up because this time the person banged on the door and tried to look through the window.

I know this mother-effer is not banging on my door like this. You do not bang on no black person door, they bout to learn.

All my angry rants went out the door when I swung the door open and came face-to-face with my cute next door neighbor. I would call him fine but right now he's angry and he looks so cute with his face all red.

He held up a chewed up sneaker in my face. Poco.

"You need to keep your dog on a leash Mahj. I had just cleaned these shoes and set them out to dry, just for your big ass dog to come and chew them all up. Blah blah blah blah..."

I just nodded my head not really listening to him. Wow his eyes look really blue right now. Like the sky.

"Mahj! Mahj!"

I shook my head,"Huh?"

"Did you hear anything that I said?" he asked me.

I nodded,"Of course I heard you Carter. Well, I heard the first part but that second part I blanked out on. Did you know that your eyes are really pretty?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed,"Of course you didn't Mahj, I didn't expect you to. And thanks for the eye compliment but seriously please watch Poco."

I nodded," Yeah sure."

"OK. So how about later on me and you go hang out or something.

I nodded my head eagerly. Chill out bro. I calmed my nod down and said," Yea I would like that."

"I'll see you later Mahj. Oh wait. Have you seen my idiot of an older brother. My mom said he didn't come back last night."

"No I haven't, maybe he just went out and got drunk and crashed at a friend's," I said shrugging.

"Well thanks anyway,"he smiled and then walked away to his car.

"Where you going?" I yelled.

"To get some more shoes," he said getting inside the car and starting it.

I laughed and went inside the house. Poco was sitting behind me with his head tilted to the side.

I lent down and hugged,"Good boy, you brought the cute next door neighbor over for me and he asked me out. You little matchmaker," I ruffled his fur and headed towards the stairs.

I caught a glimpse of the mirror again and decided to clean it before my parents eventually got back. I turned my head and looked around the room. I guess I should clean the rest of the room too.

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

After I got done cleaning, I headed upstairs to get cleaned up. After my shower I got dressed and headed back downstairs.

I opened the door to check the mail when I saw big box sitting on the porch steps. I went to grab but it was to heavy to lift up. I gave up trying to lift it and opened it up.

I was met with a pile of tissue paper and moved them out the way. Underneath the paper was the head of Carter's older brother. His cold dead eyes were staring up at me.

I stepped back and puked all over my mom's flower garden, letting out everything I had eaten the night before. I walked back over to the box to close it.

What am I going to do? I should call the police. I went back inside the house and grabbed the home phone.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I see you saw my present I left for you," I heard a voice say from behind me.

I turned around and saw the hooded figure from last night. I backed up," What are you doing here? Why did you kill him? What do you want from me?"

He started to laugh, bending over clutching his stomach. "Oh if only you could hear yourself. 'What are you doing here? What do you want from me," he said mocking me," What do you think I want from you? Hmm?"

I shrugged.

"Ugh," he sighed, "I'm pretty sure I told you last night that you would be seeing way more of me. I keep my promises Mahj. Now what are you going to do about that body on your doorstep?"

I looked at the psycho in front of me,"What am I going to do? I am going to call the cops and tell them about it. What else would I do?" I started to dial the numbers when the phone was yanked from my hands.

"What? You don't like my present?" he sneered in my face.

I nodded my head and in response he shook his. "No I don't think you do because if you did you wouldn't try to re-gift it to someone else."

"Well, I can't see anyone really appreciating getting a dead body on their doorstep unless they're in the mob and are expecting it. So no I honestly don't appreciate it. What I would appreciate is for you to leave me the hell alone," I sneered back in his face instantly regretting it, because he grabbed me by the neck squeezing it tightly.

"See this is why I cut out my victim's tongue. All you hum- I mean people talk and talk and talk and talk. Never shutting up," he forced my mouth open and pulled out my tongue placing it between two a fingers,"see how quiet you are now? Hmm. Silence," he said pretending to cut my tongue off with his fingers.

He stepped back from me. I went and grabbed my neck rubbing it to soothe the burn. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way how about you go and take your present over to your neighbor's house and leave it on their doorstep for me. I would do it myself but it wouldn't be as entertaining as it is watching you try and lift the box. The trick is to lift with your knees," he said mimicking the action," go ahead now," he said shooing me away.

My mouth dropped open and he walked over to close it. "We don't want flies do we? Now run along." I walked towards the door and decided it would just be best to make a run for it. I mean what's the worst that could happen?

When I got outside I started to run, jumping over the box and down the street. I ran as fast as I could. I turned around to see if he was behind me and ran into a wall. I hit the ground making an "oof" noise with my mouth. I looked up and came face to face with a huffing hoodie face. I could feel his eyes penetrating through my skull.

How the hell did he get here so fast? He yanked me up and pulled my body against his.

"I see we are going to have so much fun Mahj."

I gulped. Well now this is probably going to be the worst thing that happened.

[theserpentsadvocate]

Aaaaah, I love stuff like this, thank you!

Tagged by: @copperarsenite

Tagging: @feeisamarshmallow @allonsymiddleearth @iceberg-hootenanny (and basically anyone who wants to, honestly)

rules: post the first lines of up to 10 of your last fics/chapters posted on ao3 or your wips and try to draw some conclusions.

I'm going with fics in general, not chapters (because otherwise it would be entirely Satisfaction), and probably sticking to VM fic because all the Tolkien stuff I've posted recently has been crossposting. So last five posted and last five WIPs worked on. :)

(Also, warning that the second-last sentence has a racial slur (used by a character.))

Satisfaction

Veronica’s dad was the sheriff, so she was usually pretty scrupulous about not breaking the law. 

Flipping the Script

All Jade wanted was to get her mother’s car and drop it off with enough time to get to the library before it closed, and since the library was open late on Thursdays and she’d stopped to pick it up at 4 PM, it hadn’t seemed that difficult.

Unexpected Dividends

It was probably weird to run a to-do list for your boss in your head, but Eli had been doing it since his second month on the job, because Fred was competent, and reasonably organized, and obviously he was a hell of a mechanic, but his ability to prioritize was a little bit whacked out.

The Most Important Part

“Hot date?”

The Art of Starting Over

It turned out that calling your sort-of boyfriend after a whole week and a half of radio silence was daunting.

Choices (upcoming post S4 oneshot)

Jade grew up in San Diego.

Hunger Games AU for 'X universes Veronica didn't grow up in'

I didn’t sleep well, the night before the Reaping.

untitled WIP (zombie non-AU, post-S4)

Veronica made it home for the end of the world.

Carmen for 'Would've, Could've, Should've' (pending oneshot series)

Yesterday, Carter Phelps shoved Carmen into the stair railing and called her a wetback, like her parents swam all the way here from Venezuela.

Circle of Magic AU for 'X universes Veronica didn't grow up in'

The first time the Guard caught Weevil breaking into a rich man’s house, they tattooed an X on the web of skin between his thumb and first finger and threw him into a cell for the night.

*

So for the obvious – I favour third person (which I knew), and I’m a bit heavier on female POVs than I anticipated (which I’m pleased with, actually). Also Jade's very prominent, and since I’m already 50% of the Jade/Eli tag on AO3, that doesn’t exactly shock me.

(It’s not immediately obvious for all of them, but every single one of these is Weevil-heavy, which is the most unshocking thing possible. I think I have exactly one VM fic in progress where he’s not central to the entire premise, and even there he’s still majorly present.)

Other than that, the closest thing to a trend that I can pick up is that apparently I like opening sentences that feel either dynamic or relatable? Satisfaction and the post-canon zombie fic both have the more classic hook of raising questions about what’s going on, and most of the JEC fics as well as Carmen’s WCS entry are an attempt to jump you right into the characters’ heads or at least their social reality. Whereas the fusion AUs seem to establish their crossover-fandom immediately (THG with an immediate reference to a well known part of that universe, and COM by heavily echoing Briar’s introductory sentence). I don’t know if I did it on purpose, but I like it, so I’ll have to see how much/if that holds true for the other ones in the series. (The BTVS and Animorphs ones are harder, because they involve discovering something, but the summary of the latter will definitely start with My name is Veronica…, and the 1-800-WHERE-R-U one starts with a direct shout-out.)

Anyway! I’d be interested to know if there’s anything that strikes you. :)

[fenrislorsrai]

A Matter of Life or Death/ Stairway to Heaven

Yet another movie I grabbed due to Good Omens. I just didn't get around to writing it up right away cause Things Happened and things could stop happening for a little bit, that would be cool.

RAF flyer Petrr Carter is trying to get back from bombing raid in WWII but the plane's on fire and his chute is gone. He had everyone else bail and is then riding the burning plane back close enough to let contact known what happened. Has a fairly extensive talk on radio with the American lady (June) manning the radio contact, some flirting. He finally does decide bailing with no chute is better than burning and jumps.

Hey wild, what's this, he wakes up somewhere??? This must be heaven. which looks suspiciously like a beach. He follows a black dog* along beach til he find a kid with some goats to talk to, who he tries to get to explain heaven to him and kid is basically WTF DUDE. Finally gets clued in, no you're not dead, somehow. He recognizes where that is from conversation last night and looks down beach and goes "hey, there's the June on her bicycle!" Has similar WTF how are you not dead conversation.

MEANWHILE IN HEAVEN... which is shot entirely in black and white while the rest of the movie is in color. It's got a very stark, semi-industrial, semi-greek temple kinda vibe going. They're supposed to count in everyone on paperwork and boy are a lot of people dying in this war. One of the guy's that died in the plane is waiting in the receiving area for Peter... who does not turn up. Uh oh. alarms start going off! things are not right with the files!

Oops, turned out the angel (or whatever) who was supposed to get him here missed him in the fog. Conductor 71 gets told to go fetch him anyway. I'm not sure why he has a job title rather than a name when most of the other dead people have names. anyway, he was a french aristocrat who got his had chopped off, therefore needs to wear a scarf.

He shows up to talk to Peter and freezes time while he tries to convince him to go with him. Peter has meanwhile been off on a date with June, having a picnic amongst a bunch of rhododendrons in full bloom.

Describing Conductor 71 later he not only has to describe the time stopped, this weird guy appeared, but he also had A SMELL

He smells like "the best thing in the world."

what does this fancy bitch smell like:

THE BEST SMELL IN THE WORLD. (and apparently strong enough to overpower rhododendrons, which are pretty strong)

THE BEST SMELL IN THE WORLD.... fried onions.

This comes up TWICE.

Okay, you're not wrong but on top smells, no normal person would be "ah yes, I would like a perfume or candle that smells like fried onions."

ANYWAY. that this fancy lad apparently has a smell to him makes the doctor that's been called in on this case of "how did you survive falling out of a plane" go "hmmm" at this hallucination. That's rather more serious than just you're having some kind of narcolepsy or dreaming or whatever, that is some kind brain problem.

INTERESTING bit here though is the doctor isn't just flat out denying that Peter is definitely experiencing something. He's defineitly having some kind of premonition of death after his falling out of a plane. He treats it as both a real symptom and something to be addressed. You need to tell me more about the hallucination AND you need to resist going to Heaven with it.

They don't quite resolve the "how are you alive after jumping out of a plane" but I think they may just have gone with "your recollection of things is probably a bit fucked up, you probably DID have a chute or find one later but your memory is fucked up right now".

Heaven apparently will have a trail to determine if Peter can continue to live due to bureaucratic fuck up, but there will be a trial. He needs to select an advocate.

So this goes on for a bit of is this just a hallucination or does he have a brain problem. The conductor shows up again and on one of the visits he stops time, he also takes a chess book. This is he manifestation of "this is real" (this is the same chess book Gabriel drops repeatedly when he gets the explanation of gravity) A chess master is suggested as advocate.

There's a literal giant moving stairway going to heaven as a set piece that turns up. Peter almsot follows the Conductor up it a couple times. It'll be back later again.

Meanwhile this has gotten much worse and Peter is scheduled for brain surgery. The ambulance that is supposed to come pick up Peter gets lost so Doctor Reeves goes to look for it... but gets hit by it. Hello, you're now in Heaven its all REAL

Conveniently, now that Reeves is also dead he can speak as advocate at Peter's trial in Heaven while he's getting brain surgery in the real world. There's a brief visit to earth and some time freezing to gather evidence that June actually loves Peter, which is the key thing that's relevant to appeal. That brief period of extra time changed both Peter and June's fate.

June also gets called in as a witness via dreams and swears she really loves Peter after only a few days. Is told the only way he can survive the surgery if she swaps places with him. DONE. okay, that's true love, we'll grant the life extension.

Happy ending.

---

*Up top I mention the black dog he follows specifically because black dogs sometimes show up as psychopomps, conductors of the dead. It was just a dog in this case, but color choice flt intentional with how slightly surreal scene felt.

This one had a lot less clear plot parallels with Good Omens. Most of the relevant parts were related to the actual design of things. The overall design of Heaven was clearly an influence on Gomens, but Life was a lot.... warmer. This was a Heaven also populated by humans. (Hell did not seem to exist at all) It's unclear if there's a god at all, just an afterlife of some sort but on largely shaped by humans and they make the rules and the exceptions.

But some of the overall appearance and the looking down at earth had a similar vibe to it. Just Gomens heaven is like someone first came in, cleaned out all the pesky humans, and then left a few scattered angels to occupy the vast empty spaces which had been intended to have people in them.

The chess book and the plot point of swapping places for each other to live is probably the most relevant part for Gomens.

The escalator to heaven you get in season 1. overall this is more just Design Vibes than the other two referenced items.

I have no idea what to make of the Angels Smells Like Fried Onions, but by god I am going to use it SOMEWHERE because it is too goddamned funny not too.

The other two items I watched/read:

The Crow Road- The NSFW Morse Code book. no, really. I Know Where I'm Going- You can't marry an institution and the thing that is Written.... isn't really.

[aloneatpeace]

In Another Universe

Chapter 21

Illuminati falls

You touch the carving of the walls studying every detail “you’re wondering what happens now”

“No. that I’ve already accepted” you turn to him “but I do wonder when you could force America to send you to any universe you want. Why take her power for your own. You know it would kill her “

“For Charlie and Oliver, to protect them. What if they get sick? In the infinite multiverse there is a cure for every illness.” You walk towards Wong “a solution to every problem. I won’t lose them again” you confess honestly.

“Try as you might, you cannot control everything” Wong dismiss.

You come closer to him desperation clear in your voice “but I can” Wong look at you like your crazed glinted eyes with a stoic glance “look around you” walking towards the statue “it carved in stone. I was meant to rule everything.” Pausing for a moment you turn to him “but that’s not what I want. I just want my boys.”

“At a cost of child’s life “he hisses “is there no peace in knowing though you can’t be with the ones you love there are worlds where you are together? Is that not enough?”

Repelled you lifting of the ground “No” throw him out of the temple to the abyss of snow

You float midair the spell back on full force, branches of the multiverse of your alternates life together with your boys around you. Searching for the one that you already had once connected you dream walk to your alternate house. Finding her sleeping in the couch with your boys you possess her unconscious mind.

Earth 838 you wake with red iris and walked out the door thrusting her hands back lift her off the floor.

“We all know how the both you do anything for each other” Charles said looking at sam and dean “as admirable the act is you caused many chaos here. Letting the mother of mother of all monsters Echidna. The death your brother We were at war while the rest of us banded together to try stop you as always choose to go it alone”

“He turned to the Darkhold began Dreamwallking, in hopes that our salvation might lies in the Multiverse” Karls continues

“And guess what, it didn’t but he kept doing it anyway.” Captain marvel adds

“One night, you called us all together confessed that you had Dreamwallking and in your words, “things had gotten out of hand”. You never told us the details of what had happened. Only that you had inadvertently triggered an incursion. you, our friend caused the annihilation of another universe” at reeds statement Sam felt lost and loses of words he gulps as captain marvel said the next words

“Everyone in that reality died, everyone”

“Sam renounced Darkhold’s evil and helped us find the Book of Vishanti, a weapon we did use together to defeat Echidna. But one final threat remained” Charles concluded before lifting his fingers and place it in his temple projecting the past, allowing them to see what had really happened.

Sam was on his knees, face bruised and blood dripping from his nose and side of his face, his fingers had turned black. A devastated look on his face surrounding him various monsters, creatures of the dark some that they never encountered oh their hunting life lay dead, beside his side farther away a woman of dark hair, dressed in black clothes a crown on her head lay dead with a large sword piercing her heart.

“I shall miss you my friend”

“I’m ready”

Black blot walks forward his trident on his forehead glow a buzzing sound emitting “I’m sorry” the small whisper from his mouth caused higher sound wave that caused everything burst into nothing, a flame can be seen as the group stands mourning silently for the man.

The take in everything when sudden an alarm rings reed glances up “the building has been breached”

“No, shit genius” dean mutter

“Status report on sentries” captain carter commands  

Camera around the front of the appears on the screen earth 838 you can be seen fighting the Ultron’s robots lift and right, blasting away them, tearing the machine apart easily. She pulls the last one making them clearly see her with her half side of the face covered with the machines oil.

“Stop where you are…” the Ultron’s word cuff of by her as she crushes him with her power.

The feed ends.

“she’s heading for the child” captain marvel yells

“Watch them, we’ll vote on our return”

“If you return. You cannot handle her, let us help” dean yell at them

Charles and Karls were remains as the rest left to deals with you/her.

“Perhaps we accept that their help” Charles said making Karl stand up from his seat

“What the hell are you saying?”

“Save the girl and get to the book of Vishanti”

“You have the book here?” sam asks

“Yes, you build a waypoint”

“Charles, we cannot trust him “

“I believe we can, just because someone stumbles and loses their way, doesn’t mean they’re lost forever. We will see what kind of sam Winchester you are”

Charles unlocks their cuffs and sent them free “thank you” Sam said.

Cas was still in lab trying to see who is the intruder was, but the cameras has been cut off no feed come up when the building shook all the Ultron in the lab run towards the hall.

“PERIMETER BREAKDOWN”

‘ALL SENTRIES ENGAGE”

“INTRUDER APPORACHING”

America looks around from glass cell as Cas tell everybody to get out

“NOW” everyone in lab flees as Cas stand in the front door of the lab anticipating the entry of the intruder.

“it’s y/n” America said. Cas turns to the system to shut the door as the protocols says, but the system failed to do so. America watches Cas she momentarily looks back at the entrance everything was smokey due to the fire. An Ultron runs into the smoke sound of machine buzzing can be heard then a head of a robot come bouncing

“ULTRON COMMANDS YOU TO HALT”

From the smoke you step out Americas eyes wide in fear, the blood and oils on the side of your face and the white cloth with face void of any single emotions made you look like a monster. The Ultron repeat the same sentence with flick your fingers its decapitated robotic head exploded into pieces beside you without glancing it you walk pass it barefoot to America.

“Hurry, hurry she’s coming” America bangs at the glass scared out of her mind

Cas curse it would’ve been fine if he had his powers but he doesn’t have it and nothing seems to work he cannot release America or lock up the lab.

Seeing America held in the glass cell, the red mist in your hand buzz ready to break the glass when captain carter land in front of you. You tilt your head at the new comer, black bolt captain marvel and reed then stand Infront of you.

“Y/n, stop” Reed spoke with a clam voice “you’ve possessed an innocent woman, but you can still do the right thing” you stand head shifting to side your hands no longer having the red mist “let her go” your non-threatening stance made him take a step closer “please. I have children of my own I understand your pain”

“Is their mother still alive?” an innocence in your voice but your eyes said another story.

“yes” reed answer honestly

“Good. There will be someone left to raise them” nonchalantly you state

Reed sigh at that “y/n, Black Bolt could destroy you with one whisper from his mouth” a warning was evident in that.

“What mouth?” a false confusion in your voice

Black bolt opens his mouth only to realize his cannot feel his mouth is no longer in his face a sudden panic settle in him as he touches his where should his mouth should be only for to his to be widened in fear when he found his mouth gone, in fear he touches all over his face to find his face, behind him carter and captain marvel stand puzzled. In desperate need of searching his mouth black bolt let a muffled scream before he could stop his brain exploded and the trident blink blood drips from his nose and he falls dead on the floor.

Angered at the loses of his friend, reed quickly react by extending his arm to grab you, you lift your hand and lift him of the floor and tear him into pieces, from his hands and leg reed start to tear into pieces until he screams and last of him was shuddered like a paper.

Captain carter and captain marvel look at each other both shocked and angered at the death of their friend. Your eye glow red as captain marvel suits up and fly up as captain carter run to sideway, captain marvel sends a blast that you used a psionic shield to cover you, with one hand projecting the shield you use other to blast captain carter with a blast she sends the shield at you as the blast hit the statue missing her.

You made the shield hit the pilar behind you with your power. Captain marvel again send a full thrusted blast both hands thrusting down trying to crush you down, you do the same both hands ready to blast, but she blast the ground near your feet making you stumble  and captain carter who was running to you be thrown away by the force of the blast, you quickly stand as captain marvel hover in the sky her suit and eyes glowing hands buzzing with blue energy  preparing to blast you quickly send a blast to captain carter as the you send numerous blast but she skillfully dodge it, gliding she pick up the shield as captain marvel hits you with a blast you shield yourself, you breath heavily as the intense of power increase you send a statue flying to her and she was hit with it as they both crash into the high wall.

You glance around for the super solider smokes around you, she run silently behind before you can see you turns to where you could feel and was hit with her shield you quickly stand on your feet as well, she “haven’t you had enough?”

She spit the blood out her mouth “oh, I could do this all day” she answers with a smug smile, she swings her shield but you crouch down doge the hit pushes her away with your power you block her shields with your power and throw her to the ground.

She stops the skidding with the help of the thrusters that she uses to fly standing up she throw the shield at you catch it with your power and throw it right back at her with a brute force that the shield cut her at torso she gasps at that staying still for a moment before her top half and bottom half falls. the shield hit the pilar with blood dripping down it.

You didn’t spare a glance and turns to captain marvel who now come out the wall with a blast, she blasts you with her full power and you stumble a little with one hand blocking the blast and one hand using your power to stabilize yourself you lift yourself and send the ground stones at her but she blasts through it and send blast but you block it. Lifting yourself off the ground, both of your power meet, the crackling with glowing eyes she hisses at you “get the hell out of my universe”.

You let your power envelopes her the golden energy turns to red with intense eyes you allow her power to flow inro absorbs her power making her suit fall apart her helmet and hand raps fade away.

Back in earth 616 you sigh as the power feel your body through dream walking.

With that earth 838 you push captain marvel with a grunt which caused a huge blast and the two of you to be thrown away. Captain marvel groan as she crashes into a statue and fall down, glasses shatter and you fall top the pieces lay down you look up to see her lay under the statue and make the statue fall top of her. Captain marvel close her eyes and helpless trying shield her self from the impact, without knowing that you had already absorbed your power. Her hand fall limp outside the rubbles of huge stones.

All this was seen by Sam, dean and Klaus after they fought with Karl Klaus knocked him out as they gone to search for America.  They have been trying to get America out of the cell with cas after she punched the glass Klaus final punch shattered the glass successfully releasing her.

Sam, see you approach he slowly walk towards you but was stopped when Charles tells him to go to get the book and they leave as Charles get inside your head in earth 616 you scream as Charles get inside your head.

Charles walks through a door with no walls attached or anything everything was white, parts of broken beds with sheets and dolls was that burned, a gap between the broken bed was filed with darkness beside it was tv that playing a show two a couple in black white the women was wearing a wedding gown as the husband beside her.

Charles looks down the hole and gasp in surprise when a hand shoots out its earth 838 you “help me, please”

“y/n, your mind is being held by your alternate self “Charles said quickly knowing that you could gain control anytime. Her eyes widen at that and the ground shook “grab my hand” she does as he says “perhaps, if I can pull you from under the hole the spell will break” he grunts as he pulls her, she come up slowly as red mist approach them.

Charles goes still as the presence of you creep in, she also anticipating what about happen suddenly she vanish. you appear behind Charles and snap his neck.

Chest, heaving you turns to where was America was only to see them missing.

Series masterlist

[thatscarletflycatcher]

So, last night I got a bit of a sour menage (AGAIN), and inspired by @fictionadventurer really enjoying The Warden, I decided to sit down and finish The Barchester Chronicles (a 1980s BBC adaptation of The Warden + Barchester Towers, with Donald and Angela Pleasance, Geraldine McEwan, Alan Rickman, Nigel Hawthorne and Barbara Flynn), and I have to say I did enjoy it! Definitely the Church politics renders an interest and certain comedy to the story that are very welcome.

So, full of naïveté this morning, I thought maybe it was I who had changed taste about Trollope, and that I should try to watch The Way We Live Now (2001), which has one of those star studded casts as well (David Suchet, Matthew MacFayden, Shirley Henderson, Cillian Murphy, Joanna David, Miranda Otto, Douglas Hodge, David Bradley, Jim Carter, Helen Schlesinger). Two episodes in, I have to say I was wrong. Barchester is the exception XD

Also, what is it with Victorian writers and long protracted plotlines about young gamblers in which I'm supposed to get invested? There's Sir Felix here, there's Nikolai Rostov in War and Peace... I would have said "male writers", but then I remembered Gwendolyn from Daniel Deronda (diversity win! Female author writes a young FEMALE gambler plotline!). There's also of course Anne Brontē with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, but that's a different and much better case because A) she doesn't make thrill scenes of gambling scenes (stale and repetitive as they always are, the gambler always loses, and almost always the opponent is a guy who cheats at cards but who never is suspected, for some reason) B) I can feel for Lord Lowborough because I'm given a sense that the man hates his vice and is actively struggling with it, instead of "uwu, isn't it sad that he can't resist the temptation when a friend invites him, how could he poor sod."

So, anyways, I guess Trollope remains a no for me, except a qualified exception XD

[exitmurderer]

The first last weekend

We are in the final weeks or months, it seems. The rest is bullets…

It was a time to visit known favorite loops: Sienna Blaw's DGAF Bald Witch.

It was a time to see new favorite loops: Taylor Massa's DGAF Fate Witch.

Another known favorite, in their last turn as Lady Macbeth, Marija Obradovic. Leaving it all on the field, on the dance floor, as did…

Jenna Saccurato as Nurse and then Bald Witch, absolutely feral, all out, turned up to eleven, all the adjectives and adjectival phrases. I made a point of being in the ballroom 3rd loop and indeed Jenna got lifted and deserved every clap and cheer and whoop in the place, and there were many.

Also leaving and duly noted, Jeff Docimo as Macbeth and Porter, Andrew Pastides as Porter.

I totally missed Nate Carter as Taxidermist (and earlier, EAM). It wasn't for lack of looking, but I tried the shop and the Macduffs' and the cemetery, right place / wrong time I guess. This is partly a symptom of me taking the stairs in now, to try and get to the ballroom more quickly, so I don't even know who is working the elevator.

Wasn't trying for the PIB 1:1, just wanted water, but hey, if someone hands me a note that says "Follow Me" then that's what I'll do. At least, in the McKittrick.

Kind of a bummer to see a group of fans stage-dooring for autographs and photos, when all the exits are right there on 27th and most folks probably just want to get dinner on their break between shows. Eh.

Fun to watch Will Boyajian's show a couple times. Like watching a magician and trying to figure out how the trick works. Oh, here's where he's dissembling and stalling for time, pretending not to know something, etc.

How long has Porchlight been open late just around the corner, with food, at least on Fridays and Saturdays?

Related Extracurricular #1: Derrick Belcham videos at Williamsburg Biannual. Many familiar faces: Lily Ockwell, Emily Terndrup, Bobbi Jene Smith, and so on. I stayed for close to two hours, could've stayed all day.

Related Extracurricular #2: Kelly Todd's Endangered Species at 280 Gibney. Intense, strange, darkly funny, and by the end, moving. Lots of good folks onstage and in the audience.

The city that never sleeps sure does sleep a lot these days. I guess COVID-19 takes a lot of the blame. Anyway, walking out on a Sunday night into the cold drizzle looking for food, getting turned away at the aforementioned Porchlight, and not finding anything open for several crosstown blocks until a perfectly fine, perfectly generic IrishPubCo (which was almost empty and almost closed). Of course what mattered was the company (which was stellar), not the venue.

I shall return, maybe not for the last last but at least for some in-between.