#closest one is literally three blocks away

[pastafossa]

My medically heat sensitive ass watching heat related power outages creep closer and closer to my block like

[otto-s-alskling]

TF141 X Hardworker!Reader

"Their Sleepyhead"

You're a hard worker, everyone knows that. God, even Price had to carry you a few times to bring you to bed (and not in *that* way, get your mind out the gutter!) But your insistent attitude of working till you collapse is a trait that the 141 is aware that will never go away, not when they've seen you do it for over three years.

Price

You have your office close to his, connected with an adjoining door which was lucky because you bought your own coffee machine. Majority of the time, you're brewing him a fresh cup of coffee, black with a hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness.

He loves listening to you shuffling and singing next door, sometimes singing back to your songs when duets are playing from your phone but he'd be damn and hide in a hole before he'd let you know that he sings along to you and your velvety voice with his gruff one.

But this also includes him actually hearing you when your head finally thuds down on the desk when you refused to stop working from 5AM till wee hours of the night. He'd peek through the adjoining door first before sighing and picking you up, cradling you close before carrying you out the offices, ignoring looks from the other soldiers still awake late at night. Gaz would immediately walk up to help, opening the doors for Price so he can tuck you into bed, removing your boots before turning off the lamp light. He'd sneak a forehead kiss before closing the door and walking back to the offices, ignoring his racing heartbeat.

Soap

Our Scot is a freaking sweetheart (this is the hill I'll die on.) If he knows Cap isn't in office or in a mission or conference somewhere, you bet your ass he'd delegate himself into keeping company, literally. He'd play on his phone in your office couch, nothing too loud but just enough to be there.

Talks will be nonstop and he'd teach you some Scottish slangs too, much to a certain Skull masked teammate. He'd even teach you traditions and if he had the time and the energy, he'd do your hair into some Scottish Braids. (Look em up, they're GORGEOUS.)

He'd pause from time to time, get a snack or something and he'd come back with something for you too! And if you fell asleep, you bet he'd transfer you over to the couch and find your emergency blanket and tuck you in.

He'd brush your hair out of your face and plant a kiss on your cheek before sitting on the floor next to the couch, just playing on his phone till he fall asleep himself or if he gets hungry and get another snack. He'd wait till you wake up, and not even Ghost can drag him out the room. Someone had to guard the team's Bonnie after all.

Gaz

If you think he wouldn't help out with the paperwork, you'd be fucking wrong. Being the youngest meant you two are the closest, age wise anyways. Would pause halfway on working to show you something in TikTok or play some random playlist on YouTube or Spotify just to break the silence in the room.

He'd being his own snacks, which also includes a big bar of Cadbury. Sometimes Lindt if he got to visit in the nearby city. Work goes faster so he always try to help out on hell week so you wouldn't handle the full brunt of the workload.

If you fall asleep, he'd switch the music to a lullaby or a soft classical music, keeping you asleep as long as he can anyways. Like Soap, he'd transfer you to the couch but he'd push an armchair flush against the couch to block you in from falling like a pseudo bed (or fort or crib. Do people still do this?)

Tucks you in gently and continues his half of the paperwork before joining you on the couch and cuddling you to sleep. He's not one to pass up in getting to sleep in your arms after all.

Ghost

This man trusts with his life. (He'd never say it out loud.) He wasn't really warm with the idea of having a support member in the team, especially one who's specialty ranges from medic to sniper to assistant. Like how is that even possible? So when he realized that you're one of the most hardworking person he'd ever met, respect was earned... And affection.

It was around halfway the second year when he showed his face to you, the heat surge in the office making it annoying to have the mask. He didn't make a fuss so you didn't as well, just working along with him and Price in the Captain's office and hope to survive the heatwave enough. Door was locked so he was confident enough to do it even if Price did raise an eyebrow for a moment before shrugging it off.

By the third year, he already made it a habit to remove his mask once he got you to your room, finally dragging you to bed even before you fall asleep on the desk. You'd grumble and complain but when he glares you down, you relent anyways, not like you can fight him back easily when he's the largest amongst your teammates. So against your unnecessary complaints, he'd spoon you till you fall asleep, much thanks for your exhausted body and mind. Once asleep, he'd sneak a nap for an hour or two himself before letting you be, heading back to his own room, but not after sneaking a kiss to the hair and hand. For him, you're his hardworking lovie, not that he'd let it slip out to everyone else.

[mgparker]

all too well

[tasm!peter parker x reader]

| word count: 4.5k

summary: staying away from you was easier for peter when you hated him.

warnings: angst, violence, cursing, weapons, injuries, unrealistic events but it's fanfic so idgaf, peter being a literal stalker, peter being extremely stupid, very sad feels, f!reader, implied that reader has medium-long hair, unedited!

notes: i wrote the first half of this like almost three years ago tbh and decided to finish it all in one go tonight. so it's a little bit of a mess. oh well. this was also supposed to be like 10k+ words, which is why there's more world/storybuilding than usual. oops.

You still remembered the moment Peter broke your heart as if it were yesterday.

It was the only time in your relationship that he’d ever made you feel the way you did that day, worthless and manipulated.

“I don’t love you anymore.” Peter had said. “I don’t think I ever did.”

A straight up fucking lie. At least the part about not loving you at all. You knew that was a lie— it had to be a lie. Otherwise, Peter fucking Parker was an amazing actor.

But that was two months ago, the healing process difficult and still ongoing. It was hard to move on from a relationship that had been built on nearly half a decade of friendship. Peter was one of your closest friends in middle and high school until he decided he suddenly didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

“Have you talked to Peter lately?”

The question immediately threw you off, ripping your attention away from your homework like a bandaid. “What? Why would I do that?”

Your friends Mary Jane Watson and Gwen Stacy sat in front of you, books of their own laid in front of their spots.

“I don’t know,” MJ shrugged, sharing a glance with Gwen. “I heard him talking about you the other day in Bio.”

“Talking about me?” You rose your eyebrows. “I thought he was still pretending I didn’t exist.”

“He is,” Gwen said assertively, giving MJ a side eye.

You nodded as if the news pleased you, and in an odd way, it did. It made it easier for you to just hate him. “Good.”

Gwen gave you a sympathetic look, one you didn’t catch because you’d already ducked your head into your book. Truth is, Gwen Stacy knew you like the back of her hand. Having known you since kindergarten, your friendship was stronger than most. Rivaled only by the friendship that you used to have with Peter. Keywords: used to.

“So you’re still going to the open mic fundraiser tonight, right?” MJ changed the subject. Her tone was enthusiastic, bursting with excitement.

Right. The open mic fundraiser being hosted by the Midtown’s theatre department. It was at a small coffee shop a few blocks from the school, one you’d visited a few times when you desperately needed caffeine to wake you up before a long day of classes.

“Yeah,” you sighed, tapping your pencil against your temple lightly. You kept your gaze on your book, knowing that MJ’s face was likely decorated with a smile. “I’ll go, MJ.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” She squealed, clapping her hands together and looking at Gwen expectantly.

“Oh— I can’t. I have decathlon practice.”

“Boo-hoo,” MJ pouted before gathering her things and skipping away from the table. “I’ll see you tonight!”

You gave her a wave, even as she was halfway across the library at that point. Mary Jane was an impressively speedy person.

You looked back at Gwen. “What’s her deal?”

“It’s hard for her to be in the middle I guess,” Gwen shrugged.

You didn’t mind that MJ was still friends with Peter. In fact, you hoped your messy breakup wouldn’t destroy your friend group but Gwen had adamantly stayed by your side, going as far as to stop talking to Peter.

You didn’t like it, feeling bad that Peter lost one of his best friends because of you but it wasn’t like you broke up with him. It was the other way around and he had made you feel really shitty in the process.

Being the loyal friend she was, Gwen chose you without a second thought.

“I want nothing to do with him,” you sighed. “I just want her to understand that.”

“I’m sure she will… eventually.”

“It’s been two months, Gwen.”

Gwen gave you another sympathetic look. “I know.”

Determined to finish the last of your assignment, you looked back down at your book. Your mind quickly strayed from schoolwork, inevitably thinking about the events of your breakup.

“Peter,” you were pleasantly surprised as you greeted him at your front door. “I didn’t know you were coming over today. I thought you had a—”

“—the photography meeting. Yeah it got cancelled.”

“Oh,” you frowned, his tone throwing you off immediately. The visit was unexpected but being around Peter was like a drug. You couldn’t get enough of him so you welcomed him in without a second thought. Except he stayed planted at your front doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets and a heavy look on his face.

You hated that look— it made your heart sink immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes difficult to read. Something you’d never struggled with before.

“Of course.” You stepped outside, shutting the door behind you softly and following Peter to your outdoor loveseat.

“Uh— I don’t know how to say this,” Peter started, avoiding your gaze completely. His hands were shaking slightly and his posture was tense.

Your anxiety kept you rooted to the spot, concerned over his strange behavior. You were usually so open with each other so this was weird to say the least.

You kept silent, giving him the time he needed to formulate the words. His longer hair fell over his eyes, his head hanging in what looked like shame. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The words were mumbled, but you caught it.

“Um, okay… do what?” You asked hesitantly.

There wasn’t a lot of meanings behind that statement. You knew that well, but the notion seemed impossible. You and Peter worked so well together, heck you wouldn’t be surprised if your hearts danced to the same rhythm. You were so in tune with each other, the possibility that something wasn’t working out just seemed… unthinkable.

“I can’t be with you, Y/N.”

Heartbreak hit you like a fucking train. “What do you mean?” You cleared your throat.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Peter confirmed, refusing to meet your eye. His stony expression was cold, a look he had never directed toward you.

It took a minute but you finally found the words to respond. “I—I thought we were okay?”

Peter’s hard exterior almost broke apart just from seeing your expression. “We aren’t.”

“Why?” You shot back.

Peter shook his head at you incredulously. “We haven’t spoken in weeks. I thought that would’ve given you a hint.”

It indeed had been two weeks since you and Peter had had a solid conversation, at least outside of school discussions and occasional texts. You were just in denial about the whole thing, acting like everything was okay in front of your friends when clearly it was not. You thought if you ignored the distance, adamantly lied about its existence, that you would end up believing it.

“I’m just confused,” you put your head in your hands, rubbing your eyes as if the action would give you some clarity. “Did I do something?”

As far as you could remember, you had done absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to piss him off. Nothing to irritate him. What changed?

“We need to stay away from each other,” he ignored your question.

“Peter,” you snapped. “Can you please just tell me what’s going on? Because last time, I checked we were in a communicative, loving relationship—”

“You’re wrong.”

“What?”

Rain had started falling gently, a calm background noise to the chaos that was unfolding.

“I don’t love you anymore,” Peter said emotionlessly. “I don’t think I ever did.”

Shocked, you repeated his words over and over again in your brain so that they could make a sliver of sense. But they didn’t. This was incredibly out of character for your best friend— was he playing a joke on you? A sick, cruel joke but a joke nonetheless?

In the time it took you to process his words, Peter had gotten up, fully intending on leaving you on your own doorstep but you finally jumped into action.

“No,” you fumed. “Peter Parker, you can’t say that and just walk away. What the fuck is your problem?”

“Right now, my problem is you,” Peter spun around, tone equally aggressive. “The fact that you can’t just accept I don’t want you anymore. The fact that you’re making this harder than it has to be and the fact that you won’t just let me leave. It’s ridiculous.”

You hated how pathetic he was making you feel right now. But Peter was, above all else, your closest friend. There wasn’t anyone that completed your soul quite like he did. “So this just comes out of the blue? You realize that you never loved me and you suddenly want to destroy a friendship we’ve had for six years?”

“Sounds right,” Peter agreed.

Enraged, your jaw dropped. “Then I’m—I’m not stopping you.” Your anger blinded you to reason.

Peter stood under the pouring rain, water soaking his clothes as he stared back at you. It was tense, the air reeked of betrayal and fury. Agony was the only word you could find to describe the hole this was ripping in your heart.

It didn’t make any fucking sense. I mean— you’d talked to Aunt May a few days ago, funnily enough considering your own boyfriend was ignoring you and also happened to be conveniently out whenever you passed by the Parker residence. But May seemed fine, giving you her usual bright smile and enthusiastically asking about school and your family. Nothing to alert you that Peter was going through any trouble.

And you’d tried to get a direct answer from him for the past fourteen days, sending him texts whenever you failed at getting anything substantial from your conversations in class. But your calls were sent to voicemail and your texts left delivered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You could only flare your nostrils in fury, tightening your grip on the doorknob behind you as you stared at Peter’s retreating figure.

A slight movement from Gwen snapped you out of the memory, a distraction you welcomed gladly.

The room was getting a bit too stuffy, despite the vast space between each table. “I’m gonna go,” you swiftly packed up your things, ignoring Gwen’s look of concern. “Your dad is still picking you up right?”

“Yeah…” Gwen said. “Are you okay?"

"Fine," you said stiffly, checking the time on your phone. You had just enough time to catch the train home, get ready, and then get back here in time for the fundraiser. You almost sighed at the thought. You didn't want to go-- not in the slightest.

The streets were as busy as usual, but you made your way to the station on time. You stood with your back pressed against the wall as you always did, your eyes scanning the crowd subtly. The entire time you stood on the train you felt the heavy weight of someone’s gaze, but kept your eyes planted forward. It was the New Yorker in you.

You hastily made your way home and made your way upstairs, ignoring the bitter silence throughout the brownstone. Your father had left a while ago, something about a business trip. It wasn’t unusual for you to be left alone, the last few months had proven to be full of unexpected changes. What had once been a semi-lively home, was now empty save for the occasional visit from someone your father hired to tidy up the house once a week. 

After a long debate in front of the mirror, you opted for a tank top and jeans with a leather jacket thrown on top. You figured you should put your best foot forward for MJ’s event. You couldn’t mope forever. 

The trip back to Midtown was fine, uneventful, and you made it just in time. What you had expected would be an evening full of disassociating ended up leaving you feeling lighter than you had in months. Thankfully, MJ had dropped the Peter subject completely and instead focused on getting everyone to hit the stage. 

Hence your stellar duet rendition of ‘Start of Something New’ which brought the fucking house down in your honest opinion (there was more giggling than singing).

“Thank you, thank you, thank you for coming!” MJ squealed as you finally made your exit, squeezing you in her surprisingly strong grip. You smiled into the hug, glad that you came.

Finally.

Finally, you’d had one night that hadn’t been tainted by the hole your ex-boyfriend had left in your chest.

MJ gave you one more serious look, grasping your arms. “Are you sure you’ll be fine getting back—?”

“Yes,” you repeated with a teasing eye roll. “I’ll be fine. Dad sent a car.”

You’d gotten good at lying over these past few months too.

MJ accepted it with a smile and bounded off toward the stage again where the rest of the attendees were chatting and laughing. You lingered for a moment, eyeing the community between them. 

With a sigh, you spun around and left the coffee shop, the air instantly clouding around your breaths. It was cold and oddly quiet, the streets more empty than usual. 

Especially with the absence of the car you’d claimed would be waiting for you. 

You shook your head as you began your walk back home. The train made it faster to get there, but you weren’t keen on lingering in subway stations alone at night.

Besides, the walk gave you time to silently seethe over the lie you’d just told MJ. Your dad couldn’t give less shits about you. Apparently, his business trips were much more important. 

The topic of irresponsible workaholics made your thoughts stray to your friend Harry Osborn for a moment. You should text him, invite him over to bond over their shitty parents who think throwing money in their children’s faces made up for their poor parenting.

The route home was so familiar that you were walking on auto-pilot, your mind more distracted than usual.

A bright sign caught your eye.

Joe’s Pizza.

You scowled at the reminder of Peter, almost seeing the ghost of him standing just outside his favorite spot all smiles and laughter.

In a foolish effort to keep him as far away from your mind as possible, you pivoted down the nearest road to avoid passing by. He clearly wasn’t there (only a few tourists stood by waiting for their orders), but your annoying heart still clenched at the slightest reminder of him.

The road was darker and seemingly colder, but you hustled on, dragging your jacket closer to your body. Your gaze was sharper now and you scanned every dark corner and shadow. 

Suddenly, a movement made your feet hesitate. Instinctively, you nearly stopped in the middle of the road, but instead you continued at a slower pace, trying to figure out what you’d seen. 

You couldn’t see anyone and whatever shadow you’d seen had disappeared, but your heart still raced slightly. Suddenly, you were regretting this detour.

Your path strayed closer to the middle of the road to avoid feeling cornered and you quickened your pace, seeing the corner you intended to turn, your chest beginning to feel lighter from the familiarity of the intersection—

“Move and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.”

Your heart froze as cold metal pressed against the crown of your head, tangling in your locks. Your feet skidded to a stop.

A million thoughts ran through your brain, but fear paralyzed you, your lungs frozen in mid-inhale. Your gut had been screaming at you, trying to fight its way over the reckless noise in your head—

“Good, that’s good. Now turn around,” the deep voice demanded and your panicked body hesitated to move. The gun dug deeper into your scalp. “Slowly.”

It felt like you were out of your own body, doing as he asked and turning to see a face obscured by a shitty ski mask. Was he planning on robbing you? You catalogued the items on you quickly, trying to remember if you were carrying enough cash to placate the guy.

Before you could make your plea, a calloused hand came up to your chin and grasped it roughly. A shocked gasp escaped your lips and you tried to hide your terror as the man dug his fingers in your skin. He tilted your face back and forth as if inspecting it.

Your mind was spiraling to the worst case scenario and you were trying to figure out whether you should speak— or if you even could. You always froze in a panic.

An amused chuckle slipped through the guy’s nose and he squeezed your chin mercilessly. Tears sprung to your eyes.

“Really easy to catch you, girl. You’d think our little superhero would be watching over his precious plaything better.”

You realized with a sickening lurch that this had nothing to do with a random robbery and all to do with your best friend— well, ex—

“You’re gonna tell me who’s behind the mask,” he traced the gun from the back of your head all the way to your left temple and dug it into the skin enough that you winced. “And then you’re gonna come with me, nice and easy.”

Your resolve suddenly steeled.

Because as much as you thought you now hated Peter Parker, he would always be the love of your life. Your best friend.

You’d rather die than reveal his secret.

“So tell me, who’s behind the mask, girl?” The man snarled. His nails bit into your skin.

Finally, you found enough courage to speak. It felt loud in this deserted alleyway. “You found me yet you don’t know who’s behind the mask—“

Your slightly mocking tone earned you an unforgiving whack across the temple, courtesy of the hard-as-fuck gun in his hand. Your vision blurred for a moment and you would’ve stumbled if his grip hadn’t tightened on your chin.

Despite your stupid bait, you did find yourself pondering your own words carefully. If they found you (whoever they were), they’d have to been tracking you for some time. How had they made the connection between you and Spider-Man without making the connection between you and Peter Parker?

Well, you and Peter hadn’t been spotted together in months so—

“Got a fucking smart mouth, huh?” He snarled. “You’re gonna tell me who Spider-Man is. Either way, you’re coming with me and he’ll reveal himself soon enough. The boss is eager to meet him.”

The boss?

“You’re wasting your time. He’s not gonna come,” you said between gritted teeth, anger and fear mixing in the pit of your stomach as the gravity of the situation gripped you. 

He’s not gonna come. Peter Parker left you behind long ago. You’re going to die.

“Last chance, tell me.” His threat came with a menacing grip around your throat and you almost fought back before remembering the very serious threat of a bullet in your head.

His tactic was obviously meant to scare you into submission and you tried to relax in his hold with this in mind, but his fingers kept tightening and your airways were closing and —

Your hands instinctively came up to claw at his, throat burning and your vision blurring—

A quick movement caught your eye and you barely registered the gun flying away at least 50 feet in the air before the man’s other hand was gripped by a glob of web you barely saw as your eyes rolled back before his grip was ripped away forcefully and his body went flying away from you.

The loss of his grip sent you crashing down, weakened by the lack of oxygen and damn near completely unconscious. Black dots clouded your vision and just before your head could hit the cold cement, gentle but frantic hands enveloped you firmly. 

Your name was uttered frantically, the hands clutching you into a warm solid chest and you slowly tried to blink the dots out of your vision. Disoriented and barely hanging on to consciousness, you tried to resurface.

“—Y/N? Baby, baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes, come on—“

The voice sent a chill down your spine and your vision was clearing up slightly, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up. 

“Peter?” You whispered doubtfully, head throbbing from the ruthless hit that guy had landed on you. 

The vivid red and blue colors of his suit were dancing in your vision and your dazed eyes focused on his face as one of his hands came up to rip the mask off his head.

The sight flooded your chest with relief, heartbreak, and joy all at once. You felt the familiar euphoria you always did whenever you locked eyes with him.

All that love— everything you thought you’d banished away— turns out it was only tucked deep down and it resurfaced in a violent tidal wave of emotion. 

But for now, in your disoriented and likely concussed state, all you could manage was a slight upturn on your lips. 

A shaky chuckle left his lips, cradling you in his arms as his knees dug into the pavement below. “Hey, baby…” one of his hands came up to cradle your face, his watery eyes scanning your body with such desperation that it concerned you.

All at once, the present slammed into you and the confusion hit.

“W-what? How? Where—?” The questions spilled out of you, barely strung together or making sense.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ Peter was saying, running his thumbs lightly over your chin where it still stung and up to your throbbing temple that felt strangely wet. His touch was everywhere all at once and not helping with the aching confusion.

“The guy— he was— they’re after you—“ 

You tried to sit up to look for him— suddenly terrified that he would be pointing the gun at Peter or you— despite the lack of strength and Peter’s firm grip keeping you locked in place. 

“Hey, I took care of him. He’s down. He’s down, I promise,” Peter was reassuring quietly as he soothed your hair back, words tumbling from his lips in a nervous ramble. His hands were shaking and his face was wet, hair in complete disarray.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry—“ his hands suddenly gripped you a little tighter when your eyes slipped shut for a moment too long. You felt exhausted, the adrenaline seeping out of you and leaving you in the aftermath of a strangled throat and a painful concussion. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to stay safe. Staying away meant you’d be safe.”

His words were barely audible, a devastating mumble of self-loathing and blame, tumbling out one after the other. 

“What are you talking about?” You forced out, your voice raw and barely above a whisper.

Peter’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, filled with agony as if seeing you in pain caused him pain too. Before you could make sense of it all, Peter sprung to his feet and cradled you in one arm before a rush of air forced your eyes shut. You barely felt the journey home, floating between a state of consciousness and unconsciousness until those arms rested you on the familiar surface of your bed and your eyes slowly opened to find Peter hovering above you.

His hands cradled the back of your neck, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, breathing in shakily as his eyes slipped shut and a single tear made a path down his cheek.

Despite the amount of shitty you currently felt, the overwhelming need to make sure he was always okay took over. Your hand went up to wipe his tear away, coaxing his eyes open as you traced his jaw softly. 

“Hey, I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re both okay, Peter,” you whispered. 

“I need to take you to a hospital,” he said as his eyes traced the bump on your temple and the traces of blood that remained. It was physically painful for him to gaze upon your bruised throat, littered in hues of purple and pink. 

It was all his fault and the guilt stabbed him in the stomach repeatedly. He should’ve been the one with those bruises. His blood should’ve been spilled, not yours. Never yours.

“I’m okay,” you insisted weakly, tracing your eyes all over his worried face. All that “hatred” you’d felt before you had melted away into nothingness. Because nothing felt as right or complete as it did when you were with him.

“No, I’m taking you to the hospital now,” he said insistently, slipping out of the suit and reaching into your drawer to take his own clothes out and change. If you weren’t so rattled from the night’s events, you would’ve blushed at the fact that he somehow knew his clothes were still untouched from the months you’d spent apart.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue against it anymore, and after a brief hospital visit and some scans later, you’d felt lucid enough to have a conversation with your ex. 

And after he’d explained the threats Spider-Man had been receiving months ago, he also explained his desperate attempt to keep you safe by ensuring he no longer had any part in your life.

He’d lied. He’d said horrible things to get you to let go of him. Things that pained him so badly he barely felt like a person in the months after he’d broken up with you.

To know you’d both been in misery… to know that his words, his cruel cruel words, were lies fabricated to keep you safe…

It infuriated you and weakened you all at once. And because you understood his love and deeply loved him just as much, you found it in yourself to forgive him.

Only after some groveling on his part. And heavy scolding on yours.

“If you ever try to gaslight me again, evil villains threatening us or not, I swear I’ll break up with you for real, Parker,” you threatened very seriously one lazy afternoon, your thighs slung on either side of his hips. 

His bright brown eyes stared up at you as if he held his entire world within his arms. “You got it, ma’am,” he breathed, leaning up to capture your lips with his.

Your hands gripped his shoulders and traveled to the back of his neck, tangling with his chestnut curls. He kissed you like you were the air he needed in his lungs, as if you’d disappear from his grasp if he ever let you go.

Your teeth captured his bottom lip lightly as you pulled away, his eyes darker as they slowly opened to look into yours. And he gave you one small moment before flipping you over so that your back hit the couch and he hovered over you suddenly. The movement so quick that you couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips, muffled by his own smiling mouth as he came down to meet you over and over again.

[korkorali]

The Misogyny of It All

So a lot of Della Duck Discourse is rehashed all the time, points are made again and again, but one thing that I almost never see people defend -and conversely, see people attack all the time- is The Line.

You know what I'm talking about. The Line from Glomtales.

"Your plans, your schemes, they only lead to bad things for your family. If you want to be a part of this family, you've gotta stop."

That one.

Now, what exactly Della was trying to get across with that line is a whole other can of worms that deserves its own post (basically she -and also the writers- horribly failed her Speech check).

What we're going over here is how that mimics a certain line from the last season, said by a parental figure to a child, that gets so much less flack. That, in fact, often gets paraded around as 'an interesting twist on a character.'

"You are not family!"

I have never seen people attack this line with the same amount of vitriol as they attack Della's, which is funny when they're the exact same line.

Actually, not even that- Scrooge's is worse.

It's more direct, it's literally yelled at Webby, it doesn't even attempt to address the issue Scrooge had (Webby blaming him for what happened to Della) and instead just straight-up attacks her as a person.

Now, to be fully honest- I like this line! I do genuinely think it's an interesting route for Scrooge to take, and is quite realistic to the grumpy old bastard. It's just funny that nobody ever comes to Webby's defense the same way they do for Louie.

Because the thing is- between Webby and Louie, one of these two has genuine, canonical issues with feeling like they're not a part of the family, like they're an outsider amongst those they love the most, like they don't belong.

And it's not Louie.

It is a consistent part of Webby's characterization that she feels like she doesn't belong. This gets touched on in all three seasons (and honestly, it could be argued that it gets worse after this moment).

Conversely, that just is not a part of Louie's canonical characterization. Even in the first episode of season 2, the one where Louie gets the closest to an 'I don't belong in this family' moment, it's less 'I don't belong here' and more 'fuck me I am terrible at adventuring'. And! It gets resolved in that episode!

(Of course, there is absolutely something to be said for how it's resolved- specifically by Scrooge encouraging him to be a scheming little bastard, which then thusly becomes the thing that threatens his family the most. Which would, logically, be a pretty big blow to his self-esteem. This isn't what I'm here to discuss right now but it is genuinely interesting.)

Louie never really shows an issue with feeling like he doesn't belong in his family. He shows a disconnect with his family at times, but in canon that never really evolves into a full-blown feeling of displacement. It does get close in Glomtales, but never quite reaches it.

So it's 'interesting' (read: not interesting) that Scrooge's fuckup here gets brushed away pretty easily. A lot of the time the line just straight-up isn't addressed, and when it is, often times it's about how "Oh he apologized to Webby offscreen, obviously."

Which.

Not he did not.

I mean, let me be clear: I don't mind it when that's the answer. It works for me to just brush it away if it's not meant to be the focus...

But Scrooge almost certainly didn't apologize for it.

As 'New Gods on the Block!' Showed us, Scrooge is downright awful at realizing when his actions have hurt people.

More likely than not, Scrooge would just assume that everything is fine and would avoid bringing it up at all costs because he'd feel awkward about it. Because he is, very importantly, not good at talking about things he doesn't want to talk about.

So why is it that Louie is always the one feeling like he doesn't belong? Why is it Della who is always a terrible parent for what she's said? Why are Webby's feelings of disconnect never really given the same gravity as Louie's? Why is Scrooge's blunder let off the hook super easily?

It just feels silly to me.

And, well.

Kinda like the fact that, since Scrooge is a guy and Webby's a girl, and Della is a woman and Louie's a boy, has something to do with it.

I'll happily give the benefit of the doubt and assume it's not deliberate, but quite frankly it is a double standard.

I think that people would be less upset with the Della Duck Discourse if Scrooge was held in a similarly critical position over what he's said and done. If it was acknowledged that Della isn't uniquely awful in what she says and does, and that a lot of the others have fucked up in extremely similar ways.

(I mean for fuck's sake, everybody goes on and on about how Della left her kids for ten years -which, for the record, wasn't what she wanted to do- but nobody ever criticizes Donald for taking the kids away from their family and never talking to them about Della- which is something he actively and deliberately chose to do)

TL;DR: The fact that Della gets intensely criticized for what she's said and done, but Donald and Scrooge are conversely celebrated as 'interesting' and 'complex' for what they've said and done, even when it brings harm to the kids, is a blatant double-standard. And if you don't think that this double-standard is bad or wrong for existing (or even that it Doesn't Actually Exist), instead of immediately claiming that it's a non-issue, maybe try to look inward and figure out why you really think that is.

[wizard-on-whales]

I've literally had this stuck in my head for as long as I've been obsessed with him but imagine being highschool sweethearts with him...

Like you guys were inseparable when you were kids. Your houses were right across the street from each other and you were the only kids on the block so you always played together. You would ride your bikes through the streets, go to the arcade, play in a nearby creek. When you two got older your spot by the creek became a place to escape from family issues, you'd pass a joint and a beer back and forth, and just talk about your futures. Then when Senior prom came around his brother and your mom forced you two to go together even though neither of you wanted to go to prom in the first place. Half way through the night you'd ditch and go to your spot in the woods. You'd both be a giggling mess, drunk on spiked punch as you fall to the ground together, him holding you in his arms, making fun of your poofy dress once more. But secretly he loved it, his heart had been racing all night, his hands sweaty every time you'd smile at him. Now that you were on top of him, giggling away, he kissed you. He didn't know what overcame him but he did it anyway. You kissed back. Neither of you had felt this way about each other before, but now that it happened a whole new world of feeling opened up. All those years together, all of those memories, became something more in one moment.

You two continued to grow together, supporting each other through everything with a tight hold on each other's hands. James band blew up, just like you always told him, and he drug you along on tours and to crazy parties. You two would sneak off and make out in corners and in bathrooms, not caring what other people think. In '86 on a hiking trip, he got down on his knee and pulled a ring out, asking you to marry him. Of course you said yes, leaping into his arms and kissing him. You'd get married in 1990, 10 years after you started dating, it would be a small wedding, only your closest friends and family. He performs a song at the wedding for you that he had written, Nothing Else Matters...and it really didn't. Not to him anyway, he could have lost it all, the band, the fame, the money, he could have been living on the streets, but as long as he had you, he still had everything.

Mid 1991 you tell him you're pregnant, you both freak out at first but then realize how beautiful the opportunity is. Both of you came from broken families so the idea of starting a family together, one that would be full of love and laughter, neither of you could pass it up. Ironically enough the baby was born at the beginning of '92, February 10th. What would have been Cliffs 30th birthday. It only seemed right to name your baby boy after him.

A few years later another baby boy follows, Layne. It was a difficult pregnancy which ended in a C-section so you two agree to stop at two. But of course, the desire to have a baby girl outweighed your fears so in 1999 little Julia followed.

James had been struggling with his alcohol addiction, you tried so hard throughout the years to keep him from falling deeper but it couldn't be stopped. It pained you to see him this way, to watch him drink himself half to death. Many nights he'd stagger through the door and pass out on the floor.

Your breaking point was when he hadn't made it inside. He was passed out in the lawn in a pile of his own vomit. He needed rehab, no matter how much he denied it.

The months following were rough for everyone, James, you, the kids, but you pushed through and when he came home it was perfect. He was sweeter than ever, his smile from his youth, the one you fell so hard for, was back on his face.

The years that followed his sobriety journey were sometimes hard but you two made it work, just like you always had. In 2007 you found out that you were pregnant again. Both of you panicked for a while, wondering how you would make another baby work after already having three. Especially since they were getting older now...and so were the two of you. But Stevie was another perfect little angel who was adored by everyone. Her big brother Cliff especially. He was a sweet, sensitive boy who often took care of her without even asking. James and you told him he didn't have to help but he didn't listen.

Everything was perfect as the years continued on, Cliff got married and him and his wife welcomed their first baby in 2017. You and James were ecstatic about the news and the fact that you were grandparents now. It was only then did you realize that all of your dreams had come true, you and James were growing old together just like you always talked about in the spot by the creek. Sometime between 2017 and now, Layne and Julia both got married along the way too. Cliff welcomed two more kids, Layne welcomed his first, another on the way. Julia and her wife were opening a bookstore in Vail together. Stevie was about to graduate high school which seemed unreal.

Now you were here in the kitchen, preparing a Sunday dinner for your whole family, your 4 kids, 3 bonus kids (their wives), and your 4 grandchildren. James had arrived home from the store after you sent him for an ingredient you had forgotten. He stepped into the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face and his hand behind his back.

"what?" You'd say, eyeing him suspiciously as he stepped closer to you. Hed brushed your graying hair out of your face and bring a small flower out from behind his back, placing it on your ear.

"I saw it on the drive home, thought you'd like it," Hed say softly, a boyish smile on his face. You'd smile back, feeling a faint blush on your cheeks. Somehow after all these years he still found ways to whoo you. He'd wrap his arms around you and smile once more before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. The kiss would be interrupted by the squeals of a few of your grandkids running into the kitchen, wanting attention from him, wanting their grandpa. You'd smile at the sight of him scooping one into each arm, moving to the living room to play with them as you finish up dinner, your heart filled with more love than you ever thought possible.

✭-----------------------------✭

Literally gonna sob

[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"

[boom-bada-boom]

back again with another fic idea but i dont really have a name for this one lmao. anyways thank you totk for normalizing magical stones turning people into dragons 🙏

alright. the links lands in a time between heroes, a little bit past four’s time, so the minish and hyrule have their legends of him. and of course, theyre fighting monsters, as heroes do.

and the four sword is hit by Something, something powerful, something evil. no one is able to catch a glimpse of it but they could feel it. four flings his sword up instinctively to block, and the four sword

b r e a k s.

there is a bright light, and a voice—no, voices screaming. because the four sword had-has-will have only one link that wields it, and magical blades are always possessive, binding themselves to the soul of that who uses them. so the sword breaks, and it breaks its hero with it.

except the four sword is more than just metal and magic and minish power. it contains the power of the elemental stones within it. (because the stones themselves are just vessels, and vessels can change.) so when the sword breaks, and the hero breaks, the elements break away in turn. and they bind to the closest thing they can find that resonates with them.

(what, after all, are the colors shaded by?)

all of this happens in seconds, in moments, covered by the bright light and the screams. when the light dies, four dragons in familiar four colors split off in a panicked haze. they leave behind nothing but a broken blade and a leather bag.

basically the chain goes on a minish cap adventure but they dont have a cap and also the stones are just the colors turned into dragons instead.

also reversing the finding order so its green, blue, red, vio now. green is just looping around in the stratosphere or whatever. blue is hanging out near the zora since, yknow, lots of water. red is in eldin for similar reasons. no one can fucking find vio actually because how the fuck do you locate earth??

along the way they slowly discover that hey? the colors kinda represent the goddesses sorta? except what is vio then?

(wild is the first one to make the goddesses connection. hes like huh theyre kinda like the dragons from my time. yeah theyre like protectors of the goddess springs, its a whole thing—wait a minute.)

DUNGEONNNNNNN CRAWLLLLLLL,,,, the colors hide out in dungeonssssssss,,,,, its literally like a whole ass zelda game,,,,,

btw for the general shape of the map, the volcano is in the NW corner, the water in the NE corner, theres a rain forest in the SE, and i guess a desert in the SW??? N is grassland leading to the lost woods, W is moutain range with ice stuff going on, S is also grassland but it leads to swamp, E is lake hylia with some woods surrounding it (as you can tell i am trying desperately to frankenstein a map together from three different ones. sigh.)

if we’re going the “imitating a zelda game” route idk what kind it should be tho. we could do the oot/albw/eow/etc route, collect three items in three dungeons, have a break from dungeons with some situation that is a big move in the plot and frequently involve collecting the master sword, collect more items in more dungeons and fight boss for real (lots of adventuring and dungeons). or we could do the st/mc route, which is five dungeons, but you have a quest to get to each, so its more like quest-dungeon-quest-dungeon-etc. i think this also depends on the size of the game actually. all the bigger games have the first type of storyline and the smaller ones have the second

okay further research reveals that the oracle games, and links awakening, all have a collect 7 (or 8) items and do the thing to fight the boss. so it has the dungeon number of the larger games, and the quest to the dungeon pipeline of the smaller games

EDIT: okay after much consideration. we’re going with option two. mostly bc i dont want to make that many dungeons up 🙃

anyways they also have dungeon monsters and bosses. just like a real dungeon :)

EDIT 2: concept that each dungeon has parts stolen from mc/fs/fsa dungeons

okay dungeon ideas time. mc has two minish dungeons and two regular sized dungeons. the deepwood shrine (earth) and temple of droplets (water) are minish ones. the cave of flames is an old hylian mine in mount crenel and the fortress of winds is. well. a fort.

but green is in the clouds so that just leaves the fire dungeon to draw from in mc.

speaking of clouds, fsa very conveniently has a level named “realm of the heavens”. it is in fact just a whole level in the clouds. also theres the palace/tower/whatever the fuck of winds. so yk. (angst opportunity?? the chain climbing the tower only to come upon the room with the shattered mirror?? thoughts chat?)

as for blue. uhm. well. all i know is i want an ice based dungeon where its got a big ole water pool that probably is fed by the ocean or smth and thats where blue is hanging out. kind of like eow with the weird twister beastie.

as for vio. he is underground and that is as much as im certain of. did have a big ole brain wave that the way to get to him is through the building that will one day become the palace of the four sword, before it is sent to the sacred realm (to become the dark realm). other than that. you gotta go deep into a forest to get there??

and for bosses for each, red gets the helmasaur king (from leg’s time; helmasaur king ii was the boss at the end of the red sword’s portion of the palace).

im not gonna lie i kinda fuck with helmaroc king for green, not only because big bird for the wind element (and from wind’s game lmao), but also the irony of huge bird flying above clouds. sorry sky youve been culturally appropriated.

as for blue, he gets gyorg from majoras mask. time is sweating. gyorg annoying as fuck and you get to try to scramble to dry land once the dude recovers so you get anxiety as well. blue would fucking hate the bitch. 10/10 perfect option

i struggled to find something for vio, especially after accidentally making a “one boss from each timeline” thing happen. but i think i found one i like. skyward sword’s koloktos, simply because many handed boss always sick. and also because of the climbing out of hell scene in the mfs dungeon. the pits vs beautiful upper level concept is honestly kinda fire for doing his dungeon with. also its closer to the beginning of the timeline instead of down the splits

for the dungeons maybe you need to get some symbol of the respective goddess to enter the dungeons, which is where each color ran off to hide within by pure instinct. like the medalions that have shown up in some games or something. which also helps with them making the goddess connection, since theyre hiding where their respective goddess protects them (four, literally helped give the goddesses a house in mc: 🧍)

had a huge brainwave that the colors all fuck up the elements around them in a big ole radius. green accidentally makes tornadoes and hurricane winds around him and since the tower is pretty close to the castle it affects people there too. red irritates the volcano in mount crenel (because it had lava inside of it but on the outside crenel is mostly dust and dirt and stuff) and it starts spewing lava and stuff. blue whips the ocean in a big circle around him into a giant storm and thats why the chain cant just swim to him and have to go through the dungeon. vio accidentally causes earthquakes and sinkholes and he also makes plantlife grow absolutely crazily. yknow, to really up the ante on this whole quest. and now we even have a very good reason why they go to get green first (he is affecting castle town directly).

something something vio and shadow something something light and darkness something something hylia is light but she is a burning light and that kind of light always casts the darkest shadows something something vio uses shadow magic because he casts light

how do they learn about the colors? well, four left behind his bag and in that bag is a journal that has both random ass thoughts and communications between the colors.

the minish are in fact present in this one and they are trying to help the heroes but literally none of them can translate. except four but. awol. so theres some goofy ass shenanigans happening in that direction

(twi in wolf form, listening to the minish chittering and chattering: 🤔)

(legend crouched down next to him, trying to translate as the resident “language expert”: 🤔)

speaking of the minish, the colors all still have the ability to shrink. in theory. theyve got the feather earrings and everything, which would look cool as fuck on dragons i should say. but anyway.

they cannot shrink on their own because their elemental magic is overpowering their minish magic. they usually have at least some elemental powers as the colors but now that is increased tenfold. the chain gets magic bottles that are sourced from the minish who enchanted them with power that can temporarily overcome the overwhelming elemental aura to get to the color’s minish magic. thus making them small :)

and when the colors are trapped in one while minish-sized they can no longer become big again.

yes you can picture lizard-sized dragons being incredibly grumpy in glass bottles.

when they capture a dragon, they head to the minish? maybe. idk someone to make a four sword using a fragment of the original sword and the elemental stone in the dragon. so basically instead of repairing the four sword and splitting, since theyre already split and the sword’s already in pieces, they repair each split and then combine them together. idk how they get the elemental stone out of the colors, but each time they repair a four sword piece they reverse the transformation and get the color back.

so they adventure around with the colors, is what im saying. which is good news for them communicating with the minish lmaoo. no more charades for them

(red, blue and green in a football huddle trying to figure out where the fuck vio is hiding: (hushed but increasingly incensed arguing)

the chain watching them argue at every turn and wondering how the fuck four seems so stable all the time: )

[piratefalls]

welcome back to the latest edition of biweekly fic recs! as always, mind the tags, if you can't leave a nice comment don't leave one at all, and happy reading!

masterlist.

There's No Problem That San Diego Can't Solve by @historicallysam

Alex doesn’t even bother knocking; he simply twists the knob on the door and shoves it open. His eyes narrow as the door bangs against the wall and he sees Henry on the phone. Maybe (definitely) it’s rude but his blood is fucking boiling so he doesn’t really care.

All the Ocean was Sleeping by @sparklepocalypse

The worst part about being a siren in the modern era, Henry ponders as yet another ship flies past his cove at a speed that he knows will disturb the anemone gardens below, is the yacht bros. Between the sound of their vessels’ motors and the dissonant noise the humans call music, Henry’s singing has no chance of attracting anyone’s attention.

cause you're a classic, and i'm reckless by @firenati0n

“I've, actually, uh. I've never done this before.” At this, Henry stops short, takes a second as his gaze moves up and to the left, trying to recall something. “I've seen your films. You most certainly have done intimate scenes.” Alex clears his throat. He hopes his nerves aren't completely obvious, the slight waver in his voice about to give him away. “Yeah, well. Never with a man, so. Not at this scale, anyway.” “Would it help to, er, practice?" Henry winces a little as he says it, which does not inspire confidence. But Alex is shocked nonetheless. What the fuck?

Over Land and Sea by SatinBirds

Alex and Henry come from very different worlds, and still, they manage to find each other.

Clean Slate by smc_27

“Henry.” Pez comes over, puts both hands on Henry’s cheeks and looks him dead in the eye. “You are not a sad man who’s gotten dumped. You’re in the prime of your life, and I quite desperately need you to act like it.” “The prime of my life,” Henry scoffs, more incredulous than questioning. “I’ve just gotten out of a 15 year relationship, endured a divorce, am suffering an almost impressive case of writer’s block, and your hands are like bloody icicles.” Pez grins, doesn’t take his hands away. “Explain to me how this is my prime. Please.” Pez tilts his head, and sounds entirely serious when he says, “Literally anything can happen from here.”

in bloom by stutteringpeach

Yoo, can u hook me up with some flowers?? It's the busiest day of the year for florists. Alex texts Henry with a last minute request.

here is a map (with your name for a capital) by @alasse9

That day at the Rio de Janeiro Olympics, Alex comes across the very same Prince Henry who just dismissed him having a panic attack in a bathroom. The choice Alex makes then has ripple effects neither of them could have ever expected. What's the story like, when they actually are friends all along? “So, you’re going back to England tonight, and you’ll spend the next three days pretending you two are the closest and best of friends until we can put this mess behind us.” And there are reasons he hasn’t told anybody this, good reasons, even though he’s sure June and Nora saw through him ages ago. Faced with his mom’s disappointment, though, and with the realization that the entire world apparently thinks he hates Henry and would willingly shove him into a fucking cake, he can’t stay quiet. “But we are friends,” he says, vehement and serious. “We have been for years. He’s—he’s probably my best friend, actually, along with Nora.”

thoughts of you consume by yrsonpurpose

Henry sees Alex appear on the red carpet in a blue suit that screams sex on legs and is ready to throw away all attempts at concealing their secret relationship in the name of dropping to his knees at the first available opportunity.

eyes on me by matherine

Alex’s hips buck back against Henry’s mouth the moment his tongue does more than tease, and Henry squeezes his hip in gentle consternation. But before he can say anything, Alex is already rambling. “Sorry, I’m — I’m sorry, I know you said not to move, and I’m trying, I — I’m trying to be good, I promise,” he blurts, voice shaking ever so slightly from something that certainly doesn’t sound like pleasure, resolutely refusing to turn his head so that he can meet Henry’s gaze from where he’s positioned behind him. Henry’s heart aches. “Alex — love, it’s alright. Where’s your mind?” Or: Sometimes, Alex needs a distraction. Something to take the edge off, to scrub away at the stress of the day. Some days, it works better than others. 

the evolution of intimacy by Poutini

There’s no spontaneity anymore. One might think this boring. That the novelty had worn off. The spark snuffed. Absolutely not

Want Me by OrchidScript

Henry had always been weak for a nice smile, but his was impossible to ignore. Blame it on summer heat and a fresh flush in his cheeks. Blame it on sunset painting the outdoor bar sweltering, romantic colors. Blame it on two healthy glasses of albariño thrumming in his bloodstream, or the good music floating on the air. Henry could blame it on anything liked if he thought long and hard about it, but that didn’t change much at the end. The core remained the same: he had been gone from the jump. -- Henry and Alex hook up on a vacation in Spain. Henry falls a bit deeper.

fill my lungs with sweetness by @priincebutt

Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor wakes up at 3 AM on his birthday to an empty bed. What could Alex possibly be getting up to at 3 AM the night before his birthday? The possibilities are endless.

got myself in quite a tangle by coffeecatsme

"It seems I've gotten myself in quite a tangle." "Tangle?" Henry's voice is hoarse, eyes darkened as they travel over Alex's body. They stop at his crotch, and Alex can see it even under the dim lights—Henry's growing hard too, a visible bulge pushing at his sweatpants. Alex's cock gives a desperate twitch. "Y'know, I was trying to put them around the tree," he starts, gesturing at the plain tree at the corner. It's clear he didn't even attempt to touch it. "And somehow I've managed to completely trap myself. Can't even move my hands." Henry makes a desperate noise at the back of his throat as his eyes snap up to Alex's face. Alex flashes him a suggestive grin, teeth biting down on his lip. "Seems I'm completely at your mercy."

The Forces of Chance and Coincidences by @stellarm

Bad weather leads to a late flight that leads to no one being where they wanted to be, but maybe everyone was where they needed to be.

I've never felt safer (than when I'm with you) by viciouslyqueer

Alex takes the bag and opens it slowly, careful not to rip it, and gasps quietly as he sees what’s inside. “H, you didn’t…” Strong arms wrap around his waist from behind, Henry’s chest warm against his back. “Do you like it?” Henry asks in a whisper, resting his chin on Alex’s shoulder. Alex doesn’t know what to say. Gingerly, like he might ruin it with even the smallest touch, he takes out the silky fabric and holds it up in front of them. It’s a gorgeous dress, fancy too, in a deep red color with thin straps and an open back. It’s long, almost touching the floor even as Alex holds it up and has a slit on the left side that would probably end a little above Alex’s knee.

An Amateur's Guide to Professional Gift-Giving by anincompletelist

Alex, a former-law-student-taking-some-time-off turned professional part-time gift giver, is tasked with finding a gift for the most high profile client he's ever worked with, both in and out of the world of law. It turns out finding the perfect gift for the Prince of Wales might be easier than he'd anticipated.

Love At First Bark by everwitch

“I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

don't let me get drunk again by headabovethewater

Alex had never wanted to cancel plans as much as he had while watching Henry pull a pair of light wash, tight jeans over his stockinged legs and bare ass. Christ, he’s getting hard thinking about it now.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge

As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great. -- Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Everything you take, you make it better. So go on, take forever by @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

It's 2024, and nobody knows they're engaged. But they will, just as soon as Alex can decide what to wear to his birthday dinner. Henry has an idea and a special gift to match.

false pretenses by rizcriz

Henry spins around, glaring at Alex. “For christs sake,” He hisses, holding a hand out between them. “Can we just not? I do not have the capacity to pretend to hate you today.” Alex splutters as Henry turns on his heel and starts to walk away. He stares after him helplessly. “Pretend?” After a beat, he starts to follow after him, “What the fuck do you mean pretend?” Three years of breathing down each others necks, fighting every time they come in contact with each other. And if Henry is saying every single thing on his end has been pretend, Alex Claremont-Diaz is going to have a fucking breakdown. Because he has been harboring this stupid fucking crush and burying it beneath false antagonism, meeting Henry where he’s at, for three years, and if Henry is implying that they’re both faking it— -- or, Alex learns better.

turn the desert to glass (you would be the one) by @taste-thewaste

Henry and Alex's domestic bliss has lead to some changes in Henry's body. Henry doesn't really mind being a little chubby, but he wonders if Alex does. Alex, it turns out, does not. Not one bit. He does not mind one bit, and he is more than eager to prove it.

coming on fast like good dreams do by cricketnationrise

When Henry recovers from his unexpected factory reset, he still can’t really breathe properly and somehow Alex is still standing in front of him with a hopeful and excited expression on his face. “Run that by me again?” he asks faintly. “I need your help.” “Right…” “I need you to edge me. Like a lot,” Alex says with a shrug. Nope, it’s not any clearer a second time around.

as always, let me know if you want to be tagged in future lists, whether you're a reader or writer!

tagging @starkfridays @stilesgivesmefeels @midnightsfp @sarahjswift @enablelove

[agentmarvel]

Hello hello!! I am so excited about your challenge (literally been thinking about what prompt I could do for dayyyyys now🤭)

Could I please do angst 💔 to fluff 🩷 (if I can’t do two I’m sorry, I’ll stick to fluff 🩷 pls), with my main squeeze Johnny "Soap" MacTavish 🧼, annnnnnd the buzz words being American reader, secret relationship, “stay away from her”

Thank you🤍🤍

thank you so much for requesting! 🥰 i'm so excited to FINALLY get one for soap! this ended up being WAAAAAAY longer than i intended, almost 2k.

johnny "soap" mactavish x fem!reader

cw: graves being gross

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Heartbreak is a special kind of beast, the Mr. Hyde to falling in love’s Dr. Jekyll. No matter how tough you think you are, how thick or calloused your skin may be, it tears its way out, rearing its ugly head with a thunderous roar that commands you to feed it. The gluttonous craving is grief. It gnaws at your bones with a bloodied maw, snarling as it downs your tears by the gallon, and there’s no proven way to set yourself free. It will sneak back up on you when you least expect it.

That gaping wound in your chest has sat hollow since you ended things with Johnny, or as you know him now, simply Sergeant MacTavish. It wasn’t pleasant, you didn’t want this, but he was too keen on keeping you a secret. He expressly forbade you from telling even your closest friends about your relationship for over three years for a slew of reasons that just became muddier over the months.

Each time you reached your limit, he’d beg you to raise your ceiling built of tolerance and patience. He swore up and down that it wouldn’t be like this forever, that someday, he’d put a ring on your finger, and you’d both be able to display your love to the entire world. But his rationale got weaker and weaker as the hourglass began to run out, and it crushed you into those final grains of sand, trickling through the tiny gap into a vicious pit of loneliness.

“You good?” A voice comes from over your shoulder, and you glance back. Commander Graves, your direct supervisor, is stationed behind you, a look of concern painted across his face.

You nod, albeit meekly, unable to trust your voice after hearing the call from General Shepherd. Shadows have been called in as air support for Task Force 141 in Mexico, and you haven’t seen Johnny - no, MacTavish - since the break-up. Oxygen catches in your chest, awaiting any sort of spark that will light the fuse on your dynamite tongue, and that’s not a conversation you really want to have with Graves.

“You know you don’t have to lie to me, right?” he says softly, putting a hand on your shoulder. You resist the urge to shrug it off, instead nodding again. “Listen, I know you’re still pretty new to my team, but you’re still part of my team. If something is going on, if something about this mission has you freaked out, you need to tell me. Can’t fix it if you won’t let me in.”

You smile, forced and small.

“I know, sir. I’m good, I promise. Just… Tired.”

He eyes you warily. The disbelief is evident, but he doesn’t press you on it. He merely offers a few oddly sincere pats on your shoulder and walks away. You let out a sigh, and focus in on your screen, a distraction to pass time until you touch down in Las Almas. 

It works almost too well. Seemingly, you’ve only blinked before you’re back in the air after gear checks, restocks, and a fuel top-off. Through the comms, you can hear Graves trying to make contact with the 141. You dread the moment you hear MacTavish’s voice again, but it crackles to life in your ear before you can truly brace yourself for it.

He sounds worn and tired, and a pang of guilt spears you in the gut for thinking he deserves it just a little. Some days, you hope he’s still hurting. You hope he’s felt even a fraction of the pain you have.

But those thoughts have no place in your line of work, not while you’re trying to help him stay alive. So your brain shuts off, autopilot kicks on, and you work as a cog in a well-oiled machine until the job is done.

*

Shadows always party after a win, no matter how small it may be. Despite having to release Hassan and it being well after midnight, the drinks came quickly at Fuerza Especiales headquarters.

You, however, couldn’t quite get into the partying mood. The inevitability of seeing him again filled your stomach with rocks, weighing you down. You mask the weight well, though. It’s not unusual for you to stick to the edge of the group; polite smiles, meaningless small talk, and high fives leaving your teammates none the wiser.

The moment you see Graves scanning the crowd of Shadows and Vaqueros, both parties equally rowdy, your heart drops. If he’s here, you know they won’t be far behind. It’s too much; you’re not ready for this. You’re not ready to be in the same city as him, much less the same room. Anxiety grips you at the thought of him even seeing you. You don’t know how he’ll react. What he’ll say, what he’ll do… You used to think his unpredictability was one of the best things about him. Now, you’re not so sure.

Graves beelines for you the second he spots you. You can see the bundles parting to accommodate his passing through. As much as your brain wills you to move, finish your drink and take off to grab another, you seem to be rooted in place. Your feet won’t move, and you silently curse them, not exactly up for a chat.

“Hey, you,” your commander hums, sidling up in front of you. “Glad to see you stuck around.”

“Was just about to leave, actually,” you answer plainly, staring down at the honeyed whiskey in your glass. He nudges you with the toe of his boot until you look up.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” It’s an attempt to sound earnest, but it comes off as more condescending than anything. “I was hoping we’d have some time to get to know each other a little better. You’re still pretty new, and I like to know my soldiers pretty intimately.”

You open your mouth to respond, off-put but polite, but words seem to elude you as you catch sight of a familiar mohawk. Even from this distance, you can still see just how blue his eyes are. You can still make out the Scottish brogue as he laughs with the man in the skull mask - Ghost, Simon, right?

It hurts. Every bone, muscle, vessel, nerve screams. Seeing him again, knowing he’s just out of reach and you have to stand your ground. No matter how much your being craves him - mind, body, and soul - you can’t. You just can’t. Your throat goes dry, heart racing, eyes welling up. And when he looks your way, looks you right in the eye, you crack. 

“Mind tellin’ me what’s got you so distracted, Shadow?” Graves asks softly, hand finding your shoulder again, like before. You shake your head, teary eyed, unwilling to look away from MacTavish as he makes his way towards you. “C’mon, darlin’, somethin’s gotta give.”

“I’m sorry, sir - “

“Phil. Just call me Phil, okay?”

You sigh, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Okay, I… I’m sorry, Phil. I can’t really talk about it.”

“Business or personal?”

“Personal, sir. It’s complicated.”

He takes hold of your chin between his thumb and forefinger, a gentle warning to look at him. You struggle with it, but you relent, hoping that maybe you’re just hallucinating.

“Relationship troubles?”

You hesitate.

“No… I mean, yes, but no. Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“So, you’re not seein’ anyone?”

He pauses for a moment, the look in his eye shifting from something sincere and worried to something unnervingly predatory. A faint glimmer of that sincerity remains, and that’s all it takes to tell you it’s all been a charade. It’s not about welcoming you to his team or bonding. He’s trying to fuck you.

“No, I’m not, but - ”

“Then how about we take some time when we get home, clear those thoughts outta your pretty little brain, and we’ll make some memories to replace him.”

You recoil, taking a step back in the implication. It’s disgusting, to say the least. But you don’t get the chance to answer for yourself.

“Like fuckin’ hell ye will,” MacTavish barks, fighting tooth and nail to get through a stone wall in the form of Ghost and Alejandro. “Ye better stay the fuck away from her, Graves. Only gonna warn ye once.”

“Soap, I was wonderin’ when you were gonna try to swoop in and snatch her up. You can smell a pretty girl from a mile away, can’t ya? Too bad I beat you to it. Don’t pay him no mind, sweetheart; thinks he’s irresistible.”

“I swear tae God, Graves, ye better get yer bloody fuckin’ hands offa her. I’ll - Ghost, fuckin’ move!” He’s still struggling, Ghost’s brick shithouse body being the only thing in his way.

Graves raises an eyebrow, never looking away from you.

“Wait, you know him, don’t you?” You don’t answer straight away. “Is good ol’ Johnny what makes things complicated?”

Again, MacTavish butts in.

“Nothin’ complicated about it, ye fuckin’ bawbag. S’my fuckin’ wife!”

Everything stops. Graves goes quiet, Ghost’s stock-still, and you can’t hear the chatter around you anymore. You look at Johnny, wide-eyed and wired. He’s staring right at you with those bright blue eyes, a pleading expression on his beautiful face. You swallow hard.

“John,” you breathe, blinking back more tears.

“Don’t,” he warns, side-stepping the shellshocked Simon. “Dinnae say it. I love ye, and I ken ye still love me. No point in wastin’ yer time on a lavvy heid like Graves. I won’t keep secrets anymore, bonnie. Lemme show ye I’ll be better for ye.”

Graves looks between the two of you briefly before leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“When you two are done with whatever this is, come find me. I’ll make ya feel better.”

He chucks you under the chin with a click of his tongue before losing himself in the throngs. You didn’t even get the opportunity to tell him to go fuck himself.

Johnny is on you in a split second, inches away with your face cradled in his palms. He wholly consumes all of your senses, blocking out the rest of the world with the breadth of his shoulders, the smell of his aftershave. You’re frozen in place, trails of tears dripping off your cheeks.

“Can we please talk privately?” he asks softly. “Away from all this. Just us. I need ye tae hear me out, and ‘m not above beggin’, bon. Meant what I said; I love ye. Just wanna talk, okay? Please?”

You sigh. The options hold equal weight. But a soft swipe of his thumb across your cheek decides for you.

“Okay,” you whisper, nearly inaudible above the echoing din. He raises an eyebrow. You nod. “Yeah, okay. Can we just… step outside?”

“Ye got a bunk on base for the night? Let’s go grab yer things and talk there, yeah?”

“John, I can’t just leave. I still have a job to do.”

“Nah, yer done with this shite.” He shakes his head resolutely, moving to wrap both of his hands around one of yours. “I’ll call Shepherd myself if I have tae, tell ‘im yer takin’ immediate leave for an emergency. Not lettin’ ye get away again, bonnie. I ken I fucked it up, and I’ll spend the rest of my life makin’ it up tae ye.”

pick your prompt here! 💌

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

Sweet Nothing with Shua

pairing: Joshua x reader

tags: angst, fluff at the end, boyfriend Joshua, non-idol!au, mentions of childhood issues and disordered eating

summary: Graduation just got over and you’re all but happy. You watch as each of your friends leaves and as you leave. Change has never been easy for you, especially when it triggers all the instability of your childhood. But there is one person you will always find yourself coming back to- Joshua. After three years of navigating life and university together, he's your home. And now you get to literally come home to his sweet nothings in your new house and your heart will heal itself from the pains of life.

wordcount: 1.9k

a/n: Inspired by the lines "Outside, they're push and shoving, You're in the kitchen humming, All that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing" from Taylor Swift's Sweet Nothing.

masterlist | Let me know your thoughts and feedback.

Change, it was a rude temptress. It lures you in with the promise of shiny places, bright lights and adventures. It’s a hoax. It takes you to uncomfortable, odd places with random strangers that make you miss home.

Change takes your closest friends away from you.

Change is the reason you're walking back home on a cold unfamiliar path, toward a driveway you don't immediately recognise and to a house currently filled with cardboard boxes.

Life had turned around in less than a month's time. You'd known it would change, you had all been preparing for it. Yet none of you were ready for the real thing. Even when you had sat through every packing session with your friends-some packing things into a suitcase, some in cardboard boxes, talking through a million memories and making promises of holding on.

You watched as your friend group, the one that had fit perfectly like pieces of a puzzle slowly began drifting away. Except now each of you carried a part of the others' pieces too. Some moving seas away, some moving just far enough that it still feels like uncharted territory.

You had told yourself you would be brave about this. You would not let this affect you and trigger all the childhood issues attached to it. For the most part, you held onto your words. You'd cleared your dorm and moved bunches of cardboard boxes to a new and unfamiliar place. You had said your greetings to unfamiliar faces, in a stiff outfit at your new place of work. You said goodbyes to two of your closest friends at the airport in the span of a week, without breaking into a single tear.

But the emotional baggage had come out in other ways. In a cowardly move, you began pushing away your boyfriend. The one you had moved in with just weeks ago. The same boyfriend who had helped you through multiple hard times in the three years of university, all with his polite smile and kind heart. The very thought of his kindness made you hurt with guilt. He did not deserve the pain you were putting him through, especially when you both were supposed to be celebrating this fresh and beautiful chapter of your relationship. That is why you stop five steps in front of the new apartment that now belonged to the two of you, looked at his car in the driveway and decided to turn back and take another walk around the block. You needed to clear your head so that you could stop hurting him.

Shua watches from the kitchen window as you turn around and walk away. He leans back on the cabinet and rubs his eyes with his hands. He has tried everything to comfort you and give you the space you needed. He understands that this has been a hard time for you, it has been for him too. He's had to say his own goodbyes and adjust to new places too.

Joshua understands better than anyone else just how hard this might be for you. He also knows that he can't make this right or tell you to process your emotions in a different way. But it is breaking his heart to see you hurt yourself in the process. He's been waiting for a whole week to hear you say more than three words at once. He has had to sit in front of you and watch you refuse every bite of food for a week and it breaks a piece of him every time.

He has been trying his best to help you, from beside and from afar. It felt unfair to him too but he knows this has been triggering all the issues from your childhood and your pushing him away had nothing to do with your relationship at the moment.

Joshua sighs another time, he should not let himself get sucked in his insecurities too. He knows you will come back to him, he knows you will tuck yourself into his arms in sleep like you do every night. And he knows he will pull himself away before you wake up so that you don't feel more guilty than you already do. Till your guilt and pain are ready to be let out, Joshua will wait on the sidelines and remind you that he is still there and your life will continue.

The smell. That is the first thing you notice when you enter the house an hour after deciding to walk around the block. You got sidetracked at the park and ended up staring at trees as you processed everything. You now felt it all but also felt too numb. The emotions and thoughts had gotten too much and you desperately needed to cry in the comfort of your home. That's why you walked back to find Joshua.

You still remember the first time you let yourself cry in his arms after a very painful call with your dad and how he'd held you delicately through it all. He was the first person you had cried in front of since your parent, and it felt good. To finally be held as you broke down, to be reminded that you aren't entirely broken. It felt like home when he hugged you so tight that your heart healed itself.

With tears brimming in your eyes as you look around the dimly lit house, unable to move from the doorstep, the smell gets to you. It smelt like chocolate and flour. You couldn't quite place the smell but you knew someone had baked something and something had definitely burnt at least once. You looked around the living room but all you could hear was a faint hum.

You walked toward the kitchen and a silhouette came into view. Joshua standing, with his back to you, working on something on the counter as hums a song like an angel. He was wearing your old pastel pink apron around his waist, you could see multiple stains on his plain white t-shirt. You smiled as you saw how ruffled his hair was and there was definitely flour on the strands. The smile on your face forms automatically and so do the tears.

It hits you in a wave, the realisation that no matter how hard everything else in the world gets, and how many things change, Shua is here in your shared kitchen, humming as he tries his best to bake you muffins. That's all you need. That's everything he needs- the sweet nothings. The whole world can push you and hurt you, but you'll find yourself in Shua's arms, doing nothing and feeling the joy of everything.

The tears are now pouring like a monsoon rain down your cheeks and you take three big steps before tapping him on the shoulder.

Shua is startled by the sudden tap on his shoulders and he turns with the whisk still in his hands from the mess of a muffin he was desperately trying to make- for the second time that evening. He's even more surprised when he sees you pull him into an embrace. He stays still hands open wide, a whisk dripping chocolate sauce in one hand, as he watches you hold to him so tight he could barely breathe. He stayed still, feeling your sniffs against his chest, your tears soaking up his shirt.

Shua moves very slowly to place his hand around you such that he is cradling your head. He rubs circles on your scalp as you lean into him further and cry your heart out. His heart clenches as he cannot bear to see you so worn down and hurt, but another part of him is glad you chose to come back to him and let out your emotions. Shua understands that with love comes a lot of pain and he cannot expect it all to be gone just because the two of you are in love. All he wants is for the two of you to always come running back to the other when everything and everyone else makes life hard.

You cry till you can't physically anymore. The two of you stay there the entire time, unsure of the time. After you broke out into full-blown sobs, you feel tear drops dampen your hair, you know Shua was tearing up too. He always did. Neither of you could stand the other crying.

So you both stayed there, crying out the pain- the pain of growing up, of moving on, of letting go, of facing your demons, of looking at the start of your life, of an uncertain future and the fear of losing. Shua and you held each other through the fears, a promise to hold on and help each other heal. To hold each other through the storms, the soul deconstructors and through the trials and tribulations of life.

You finally feel lighter and pull yourself back to see his face. Shua is already looking down at you with his sweet smile and eyes that light up your soul. his hair is messy with flour tangled between strands and you finally notice the whisk that has been dripping chocolate sauce all over the kitchen floor and is thoroughly drenched in your tears and chocolate stains.

"Hi." Your voice comes out in a croak and both of you end up cracking up.

"Hello to you too ma'am." He says, his honey-like voice filling up the cracks of your heart.

"You're making something?" You ask feigning innocence as he gives you an embarrassed smile scratching his hair.

"I was trying to bake muffins."

You let out a small smile, "For me?"

He nods and you feel your eye tear up a little more. Shua's eyes widen with worry.

"Babe no. Don't cry. I can clean this all up and maybe we can order real muffins. Or whatever you need. Please don't cry again, my heart can't take it. And your eyes will certainly not be able to take anymore crying." He says in such a state of pure fright and panic that it endears you wholly.

You shake your head, laughing. "No Shua I am not crying don't worry."

"Thank god."

"But I think we should try to salvage these muffins and clean the kitchen." He nods looking around the mess he has made.

"And maybe you should change your t-shirt first." You say as you try your best not to stare at his drenched shirt, sticking to him in all the right places.

Shua smirks, "Oh why babe, is it tempting you?" He asks knowing full well the answer.

You roll your eyes as a blush creeps up your cheeks, "Oh, please it's nothing new."

He hums and strokes a finger across your cheek, "Uh-huh. Is that why you're red as a tomato."

You mock glare at him and pull away from his touch. "If that's how you want to play it, then I'm gonna leave you to clean this mess on your own." He groans. "And, you will sleep on the couch tonight." You add and he looks terribly scared now that it makes you grin.

"Alright alright, let's order good food, clean this up and head to bed." He says and pulls you into an embrace which you graciously acept.

"Thank you." You hear him murmur and look up at his face questioningly at him.

"For coming back to me." He says with a sweet smile and you lean forward to kiss him in response.

As if you would go anywhere but home.

[solar-tl-27]

OH HEY WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT I’M BACK

Yall never get regular posts from me omg you guys I’M SO SORRYYYY

but but but but but ya’ll wont believe it

I have been… DOING ART?! youuuuu heard that right folks i me MYSELF AM d-doing art.

Ok soooo i got a few updates

Life is still incredibly hectic i swear i feel like one of those fanfic writers tha5 post like

Hey sorry it took 8 years i was in a coma! But thankfully that’s not… entirely the case?

I’m on the list for an appointment to see if i have adhd because hearing my friends who are diagnosed and medicated talk about literally MY EXACT ISSUES AND IT HELPING i was like… damm maybe it is the good ol case of audhd … so hopefully hopefully i can get something to help with that!

Uhhh in other news I’m saving for a laptop so i can get into video editing and idk make some animation memes and animatics!

But ofcourse

Ofcourse

I promised art let’s not dwindle any more!

First of all we have some art i did for my story quest for the moon (i did blur out a bit just cuz well idk my audience that well so i’ll be bluring it even though it takes away a bit of context)

Then another piece for that series and then… omg.. no way is that?! Is it?!

Hehe surprise let’s get into the first art!

3 GOT ANOTHER REDESIGN AND MIGUELS’S FIRST FULL ART

Welcome welcome to my sweet sweet sweet baby angel boy Three that’s right he’s been on my mind again so i drew him… kinda like a splash art? If he was in a gacha game very cute very demure (if that meme’s old already… no it’s not)

And then we have THE VILLAIN of quest for the moon

Miguel also our main character ash in the corner hiiii ash

Miguel is basically like the mentor that’s secretly just try to steal your powers type he’s very much an opportunist and i love to draw him and loooove to hate him! This piece is basically foreshadowing extravaganza that will… eventually be clear i swear I promise I PROMISE but for now enjoy the piece it took sooo long

Next art!

This is still a work in progress it’s not done yet but I’m incredibly proud of it soooooo I’m showing it anyway and then we’ll get into the surprise

MEET MY SON ALEXANDER

ohhh my goodness after being in art block for so long it feels so nice to just get a solid redes out i’m soooo happy with how he’s turning out AA that’s my son MY BOY one of my oldest oc’s from so so so so long ago and fun fact i drew both pieces with the exact same brush heheheh the headshot next to him is his brother phoenix

Ok NOW FOR THE SURPRISE

Guess what! That’s right i have actually ACTUALLY started finding my way into the new project reignited

That’s right we got a MAIN CAST now

Now obviously some are.. easy to find the original inspiration for but they won’t be that similar to the redesigns they used to be no no no

Welcome the new crew of project reignited!

Muse, Plume, Thea, Orianne & caelusss

Muse is the main character a human boy who is just trying his best who gets swooped up into helping a dragon girl save her kingdom and the magical dimension while also fighting to preserve his home town!

Plume a dragon girl (plume, bloom you get the gist) who somehow ended up on earth is now tasked to find help to save her people and mother while also discovering the beauty of earth

Thea the daughter of an urban development company ceo and the love interest of muse (did i get myself this invested into a ship that i made it canon here… yes.) she’s a frail girl but is forced to step in as her fathers ideas turn from helpful to greedy and destructive

Orianne Thea and Muse’s friend and the more motherly of the group but faced with difficult circumstances and changes in her life can cause her to lash out as her life is completely steered of its course by magic and her dad remarrying.

Caelus! Muse’s closest friend a pretty chill guy that works at an icecream parlour during the week and helps his family with their market food stand in the weekend, he really wants to be a culinary chef but doesn’t know if he can truly achieve his goals in his hometown.

That’s the gang this will from now on be an original concept and no longer a winx rewrite yes winx will be an inspiration for this work but i do not intend to go the fairy route nor make the world building as big as i had made it in my rewrite… what you will see is me taking my rewritten work as a basis for this story considering i have basically rewritten my version of domino, zenith and solaria from scratch sooooo SWEET BABY BOY CRYOS MY BABY will be making a return later on in this story he’s mine he’s my son my boy i can do with his character whatever i pleaseeee ok ty

That’s the update that’s the post thank you all for enjoying my content and my terrible upload schedule life had beeeeeen hectic ty ty hope ya’ll stay for more and if this was your first post of mine you saw…. Check out my other work pls and thank u

Oki

BYEEEEE

[jstarr86]

I sat watching my son as he played. He was the spitting image of his father, the man he didn’t know and it wasn’t for lack of interest his dad didn’t know he existed. I’d gotten pregnant and ran off leaving my whole world behind and moving. My son was the product of a half drunk night of passion between me and one of my closest friends. I found out 8 weeks later I was pregnant and left in the middle of the night back to America. His dad I’d fallen for my best friend and it scared me cause I figured he wouldn’t look at me the same I was always one of the boys. The First Lady of Bullet Club they’d always tell me. I’d kept with him we’d been friends for years since I started at New Japan. They’d blown me up when I first left and I changed the number I freaked I didn’t wanna ruin his life he had the world ahead of him but I followed his success I was proud of him. Sometimes I wondered what it had been like if I hadn’t ran away, if I didn’t bail. How he would have reacted would he had been mad, happy I know he’d been shocked what would he had done if I told him how I felt. I had no doubts regardless he’d had stepped up and been a amazing father. Sometimes I’d think about telling him but I couldn’t especially not after leaving he’d think I was full of shit and I was scared of how much he’d hate me. But there was no denying him that was his twin. I looked up as I saw movement ending my daydreaming he’d taken off as I ran after him

“Stop!” I sighed “Alipate Tevita Leone!” I yelled I saw someone grab him and ran pushing them “get the hell-“ I stopped looking into the eyes of one of my friends and gasped

“Nat?!”

“You got a kid!”

“Where the fuck have you been!”

“I- I gotta go.” I grabbed my son and went to leave from the three brothers my eyes having never left Tamas. Who immediately stood in my way blocking me.

“Nah you ain’t leaving you been running you ran away 5 years ago and no one could find you and now you got a kid.”

“I-“

“He has my fucking name Natasha.”

“Oh shit.”

“Woah little man stop running off.” T picked him up as he reached for him and I saw him and their younger brother look between my son and their brother in shock. They looked just alike and now that they were near each other it was even more obvious.

“Is- he’s mine.”

“Can we not do this in a fucking public park.”

“Fine we can go to your house.”

“Fine.”

“Come here baby.”

“No.” I closed my eyes sighing as he leaned his head on T “me stay.”

“I’ll carry him, if it’s cool.”

“Fine, stubborn.”

“I’m not ubburn.”

“Stubborn.”

“Stubbon.” They chuckled as we walked me I was having a mental fucking breakdown. Tama was pissed I could see it all over his face but i understood he literally just ran into his child he never knew about a 4 year old spitting image of him. T strapped him in the car seat and shut the door.

“Here’s my address.” I handed them.

“Oh hell naw I’m riding with your ass before you pull some more shit.”

“Shit.” I rolled my eyes looking at him “shit, shit.”

“Tevita.” I sternly said looking at him

“Orry.” He mumbled

“You named him after us.”

“I yeah I- can we talk about this in 10 minutes please.”

“Yeah go bro we’ll meet you.” Getting in the car Tama got in slamming my door

“I understand your upset but don’t break my car.” He glared at me as I started the car I glanced at him seeing the anger in his body language.

“How old is he?”

“He turns 5 in a week his um his birthday is the same day as T.” 10 long minutes later I pulled in my drive. Ali was asleep and I lifted him in my arms as I carried him and his backpack and grabbed my keys which Tama jerked from my hand opening the door. I walked to his room and placed him on top of his blankets I turned jumping as Tama stood silently arms crossed in the doorway as he looked around. I knew he liked it he liked xman and comics and I saw him eye the nightcrawler poster a copy of the same I’d bought him once for his birthday. There was also a image of their mask in a picture the face paint they always wore. I walked out going into the living room “Don’t guys want a drink?”

“Fuck the drink when the fuck we’re you gonna tell me I have a fucking kid! Were you even gonna fucking tell me!”

“Lower your fucking voice.”

“I think I’ve earned the right to raise my voice.”

“I’m not saying you haven’t I’m saying lower your voice because he’s asleep dammit.”

“Don’t start.”

“Both of you stop.” T said “you both need to sit down and talk calmly.”

“Talk Natasha.”

“I.” I sighed “you remember that night?”

“The night we fucked yeah I do.”

“Well I found out I was pregnant.”

“So you ran away is that why you up and dipped.”

“Yes.”

“How could you keep that from me what the fuck.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you I was scared ok, I didn’t want to ruin our friendship more and I didn’t want to fuck up your career.”

“What!”

“I didn’t want you to be obligated and stuck because of our friendship and I fell for you and I was scared Pate ok. I know it wasn’t right and I know sorry don’t fix it.”

“So instead of talking to me like any sane person you just decided for yourself this life changing decision. You robbed OUR child of a parent and me of being one.”

“I know and I’m sorry I know sorry doesn’t fix it but I didn’t want to ruin you.”

“It wouldn’t have ruined me dumbass.” He was so mad his tan face red. “You know I loved you.”

“As a friend as a sister-“

“No I fucking feel in love with you. I never got to tell you cause you disappeared”

“Bullshit you had 8 weeks before I left to tell me I was 8 weeks when I found out.”

“I was scared it was already a bit weird between us after we fucked I didn’t wanna ruin it more telling you I fell in love with your ass.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Cause you ran away you should have told me we could have did this together instead you robbed him and me, I’ve missed everything your pregnancy his birth his first words his first steps his first day of school you took that all from me and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that, that was a bitch move Natasha.”

“I know and his first word was dada.”

“I hate you.”

“I deserve that.”

“When was he born you named him after us.” T said much calmer than his brother.

“On your birthday.”

“What?” He said looking at me

“His birthday is May 7th he was born at 4:20 in the morning. He was 8 pounds 7 ounces and 23 inches long with a head full of hair and is his twin. He loves comics and wrestling he loves climbing trees. His favorite food is pizza and mangoes ”

“Well Pate can’t deny him shit he looks just like him.”

“I know. And I named him after you guys because it was a way for him to have a piece of you guys-“

“He should have had his father and his family in his fucking life is what he should have had.”

“I know that ok I fucked up.”

“Yeah you think.”

“You two need to stop fighting.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” We both said to Taula. We looked at each other as we spoke simultaneously.

“That hasn’t changed.” He said looking between us

“I looked everywhere for you I’ve been looking.”

“I-“

“If you say sorry one more time I’m having my sister beat your ass for me.”

“I deserve it.”

“Yeah you really do. Why would you do this to me, especially if you loved me? Does he even know about me?”

“He knows he has a dad I told him your a superhero your a good bad guy and beat up other bad guys with his uncles.”

“That’s what you told him?”

“It was the easiest explanation I could give him without breaking his heart every time he asked where you were.”

“You should have brought him to me.”

“How and say oh hey you got a kid, after how I left, be real would you have believed me or thought I was full of shit springing a kid on you.”

“I- he looks just like me not much I could deny.” He sighed angrily “you had no right to make that decision without me he’s half of me I had a right to know and instead you bitched out and ran like a kid instead of being a woman he’s almost 5 Natasha 5 and I missed all of that there isn’t a way to get it back for me or him not only did you keep him from me all this time you kept him from his father who he asked about. That’s selfish as fuck that ain’t you.”

“I’m sorry ok I thought at the time I was making the right choice and when I realized it wasn’t it was too late.”

“It was never too late I’d been pissed shit I’m pissed now and to know I’d never had found out hurts because if it wasn’t for him running and going past us you’d never had told me.” I couldn’t argue I don’t know if I ever would have seeked him out. I turned my head as he stormed out back and I started crying. T walked up hugging me.

“He’s just pissed Nat it’s a lot to take in.”

“He hates me T.”

“No he don’t he never has he’s just confused hurt and upset. He still loves you.”

“Bullshit even if he did he fucking hates me now. I fucked up.”

“You did it was really dumb and not fair to anyone he had a right to know and to have a say but everyone fucks up-“

“Not like this.”

“You were scared I get it and you felt in the moment you’d made the right choice, but he’s right he would have been there for you career or not and it wouldn’t have ruined anything.”

“He’s never gonna forgive me.”

“He will it’ll just take awhile. My brother still cares for you.”

“Do you guys want dinner?”

“Sure but let’s order something you two need to talk.”

“I need to let him cool off.” I grabbed a beer handing them each one before I grabbed a third. I walked outside seeing his head in his hands I sat the beer next to him as he looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. All the years I’d known him he’d never cried. I walked off when he grabbed my hand.

“I’m mad at you.”

“I know you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you I’m just really fucking pissed we gotta kid that you hid. I you went through that shit alone Nat.”

“I should have told you if I could change it I would I’ve lived with that guilt for years and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Well we gotta figure this out cause I’m not leaving him Natasha that’s my kid I’ve already missed enough.”

“I wouldn’t make you.”

“But you’d keep him a secret for 5 years.”

“Pate.” I said blinking as tears feel down my face my guilt eating me

“Mommy.” I looked up hearing his soft voice as he looked between us. “You cry.”

“I’m fine baby.”

“Meanie you make mommy cry.”

“Baby it ain’t his fault mommy was mean to him, can come here sweetheart.” He walked up looking between us “hi are you mommy’s friend.”

“I- yeah little man.”

“What’s your name?”

“Pate.” I silently cried watching the two

“That’s my name Alipate. Mommy said I’m named after daddy and uncle they beats up bad guys.”

“Yeah they do. My names Alipate too.” Our son stopped looking at him and looking at me

“Mommy why are you crying.” He wiped my face

“I just am baby. I’ll be ok.”

“Do you- are you my daddy?” Tama slowly nodded at him as I heard our sons soft gasp and he turned to me “mommy it’s daddy! Daddy!” He jumped into his arms and I watched Tama hold him to his chest as he cried I was a horrible human I’d kept these two apart. Tama looked at me

“I’m so sorry I’m sorry.” I mouthed and he nodded closing his eyes. Our son soon pulled back a bit

“Why you cry daddy.”

“I missed you bud.”

“I missed you too. I knew you’d come back mommy always says you love me and missed me and I always said you’d come home are you done fighting bad guys.”

“I always fight bad guys buddy but I’m here ok, and I’m not leaving like that again I’ll still have beat up the bad guys but I’ll be home.”

5 YEARS LATER

It took awhile but we’d gotten on better terms and after a year we admitted we still loved each other. We admitted it after living together a bit we’d moved in together during Covid when the world shut down. He was home stuck and he’d decided with a lock down he wasn’t leaving our son and we ended up getting back together during it.

“Daddy Ali being mean.” Our 2 years old said looking at her dad as he picked her up. He went to say something to him he was 10 and was getting annoyed she always wanted him so he’d occasionally be mean to her. Amelika Samena Leone was born October 31st my water had broken while we were trick or treating I almost had to get a C-section with her Pate said she was his late birthday present. 8 months after her birth we got married, on the beach in Florida his parents watching the kids while he took me to Tonga for our honeymoon. I grabbed the box I’d hidden and took it to Pate we were having a cookout for Father’s Day.

“Hey you got one more gift.”

“Forreal what.” I handed him the box watching as he opened it the heart slightly moved and he removed it seeing what it said and the picture in the box as his eyes shot to mine and then my stomach. “You shittin me?” I shook my head as a huge smile broke on his face as he jumped up lifting me into his arms.

“What she get him.”

“Oh shit!” Taula said as he’d picked it up seeing what it was

“”We having a baby!” He yelled kissing me. “I love you girl.”

“I love you too handsome.”

[dollygirl808]

Ch 1 of A Helping Paw

Obsessive! Werewolf/Weredog 141(+extra) x Chubby! OC Freya

Freya was just trying to have a nice, relaxing getaway vacation with her boyfriend to her old childhood home, to get away from the loud, crowded city, when a big, kind of obsessive dog quite literally forced his way onto her lap and into her life. All of a sudden, there's a second dog. Then another, and another, until suddenly she found herself with a whole pack of dogs! Little does she know, they're all werewolves, not real dogs, and they're all a little (lot) in love with her.

Masterlist

Freya breathed in the crisp, fresh air of the back country as she settled in the handmade wooden bench swing, thick legs tucked under her and curled up in what was probably a real furred blanket, thermos cup sat in her lap and a book held in her hands. She was finally going to get around to reading the book she brought with her, a collection of spicy monster stories to pass the time.

It only took her a week and a half to open the thing, already over halfway done with her getaway vacation, that she was supposed to spend the majority of time being with her boyfriend, Jake.

Of course, he had to complain about it being too cold even though it was technically summer and wasn't even snowing, and then he got sick and acted like the world was ending. Even though it was more likely just sinuses acting up due to the pressure changes, and he was only sick for three days.

They had a couple of cute date nights, one even in town at the most adorable little seafood restaurant by the lake, another out shopping for cute memories and little knickknacks, and another inside watching an old movie she loved as a kid on the nice big wall-mounted TV in the living room, eating popcorn and deer jerky and local-made beer.

It had been really fun, in between all of their bickering little spouts where he nitpicked and insulted her childhood home, where she grew up with her parents and grandfather, pointing out all the small little differences and imperfect coloring in the wooden beams, all fit together by hand by her grandfather and great-grandfather.

But she wasn't here to fight, she was here to relax and get away from the stresses of the big city, clear her mind and get ride of her writers block.

So she sank into her book, gets a good thirty pages in before the sound of rustling leaves had her looking up, and spotting a massive, chocolate brown dog standing just outside of the treeline, striking baby blue eyes standing out against the fur.

She can't tell if it's some sort of wolf dog hybrid or maybe just an all brown German shepherd, albeit a massive one. Perhaps a wolf German shepherd hybrid? She blinked at the dog curiously, setting down her book, and it broke eye contact first, glancing down as it sniffed at the grass.

It just sort of lingered in the area, nosing around the grass and occasionally glancing up at her, fluffy brown ears perked foward. Doesn't approach, doesn't bark, doesn't show any aggressive signs.

From afar she can sort of see a black collar around its neck, so she assumed it was just a neighbor or hikers pet who wondered off. Someone might come by to collect him, or call him back, or he'll just wonder off again on his own. She's pretty sure one of her closest neighbors has a dog for two, used to hear the bark or howl on occasion when she was kid.

Then again that was a long time ago- he might not even live there anymore, not that she's really had any time to say hi to anyone. Not worried about the dog, she goes back to reading.

---

Freya sipped at her hot chocolate, then nibbled on her local treat she bought when she went into town yesterday as she finally gets to the fun part of the story, when suddenly she heard the old steps creek and looked up only to be met with bright blue, curious eyes. She let out a shocked shout as she spotted the dog much closer than before, two paws on the bottom steps of her porch.

He had managed to sneak up on her completely silently, not that she was particularly paying attention to it with her nose in her book, but it still startled her.

She took a calming breath to help ease her nerves as he climbed the steps with a bit of hesitancy, head ducked and ears relaxed, like he recognized that he'd scared her- even if only briefly. She tried not to panic as it stood between her and her front door, blocking her only reasonable escape. It wasn't here to hurt her, probably, but that didn't mean she loved feeling trapped.

"Hi pretty boy," Freya cooed softly, staying where she was, "Are you friendly? Can you sit?" She asked, and the massive pup took a few more steps forward before sitting down in front of her, tail thumping softly against the wooden panels.

"Oh, that's a good boy," She praised, and carefully held out her hand knuckles first incase he decided to give her a warning nip. He sniffed curiously at her fingers before giving her whole hand a lick, long tongue lapping between her fingers.

She took that as a sign of friendship and gently pat between his ears, and immediately he stood up and bullied his big head onto her lap, nearly knocking over her thermos and little bowl of snacks.

It made her laugh, and she ruffled the fur on his neck while checking his collar for a name, and maybe the number of his owner if they were responsible. After some amount of struggling, considering he kept nosing at her arms with his long muzzle and practically demanded to be pet more, she found out his name is Soap and managed to dial the number on the back of his tags.

It immediately goes to voice-mail, and she's not too surprised or dissapointed, good consistent service is hard to get out here, so she left a message, "Hi! My name is Freya and I think I've found your dog, Soap?" He perked up at his name.

"He just wondered up to me on my porch, beautiful big brown boy, he hasn't given me any trouble or anything. I'm not sure if you live close, I used to live out here in the country side and I moved away a few years ago, but I'm just here on vacation. Anyways, give me a call back whenever you can and I could drive him back to your house or we could meet up somwhere in town, depending on where you live. Promise he's safe with me for the time being and I'll take care of him as best as a can until then, but I hope to hear back from you soon." She hung up then, putting her phone away as she pet him.

"Guess you're stuck with me for a while, huh boy?" She asked, rubbing her thumb over his ear, "Let's get you some water, yeah?"

Soap backed up to give her room as she stood up, gathering her little blanket and cup and snacks and book in her hands before leading him inside, dumping everything on the couch before digging through the bottom cabinets and looking for her grandfather's dogs old bowl, buried behind pots and pans. It's just a cheap flimsy metal bowl with a little raised bone on the front, and she fills it up in the sink before placing it down on the kitchen tile.

Only after she stood up did he lap at the water, and Freya left him to it as she went to her bedroom to get changed, he was going to need some food after all, and a few leftover peices of turkey wouldn't cut it. He was absolutely massive, after all.

It took her a moment, but eventually she settled on the outfit she wore when she went into town on the first day, a long white skirt with roses and a high slit along with a long sleeve red top that had a sweetheart neckline. There are only a couple of months where it's actually warm enough to show some skin, and that's why she was here at this time of the year instead of any other.

It would be hard to fully enjoy a getaway vacation with her boyfriend if they were both bundled up under layers and layers of proper winter gear, after all.

She dug around in a closet for an old leash, it's leather and peeling but it'll have to do. She hoped Soap wouldn't give her any trouble being leashed up.

"Soap, come on boy. Wanna go for a car ride?" She asked in a high pitched voice, half bent over and half leaning on the back of the couch to do the strap on her red and tan platform wedge sandals, with little bows over the edge of the open-toed shoe. Her toenails were painted white match her perfectly manicured nails, this was supposed to be a lovers getaway vacation after all.

Soap abandoned the bowl as soon as she called his name, nearly running into her legs in his excitement. He lapped at her tan calf peaking out through the slit in her skirt and let out a happy ruff.

He tried to nose and sniff at her crotch through the skirt no less than three times while she attempted to do up her other ankle strap, but eventually stopped and sat patiently when she just pushed his wet nose away with a playful scolding every time.

Freya opened the back door to the red truck, and he hopped in before she could even say anything. She gave him a quick pat between the ears and some praise before climbing into the driver's seat, tossing her brown bag and leash onto the passing seat and connecting her phone to bluetooth to play music.

Just after she's buckled up and about to turn on the car, Soap jumps over the center console and sits himself in the passenger seat instead, kicking her things into the floor space as he settled on his side, body laid over the console and big paws and head in her lap.

She attempted, and failed, twice to lift him up and get him off of her, at least put him on the center console instead of on her lap, but he doesn't budge even one inch, even thinks it's a bit of a game as his tail thumped happily against the car door. It doesn't take her long to give up, he clearly just wants to be close. Maybe this was what he was used to?

When she started driving, she took it very slow at first, wanting to make sure he wouldn't move around too much or misbehave. No one else is really around anyways, so she can afford to go like 20 miles an hour while she tests the waters. To his credit, the pup behaves perfectly and eventually she speeds up to the speed limit, and it only takes them an hour to get into town.

---

After parking she turned the car off, took off her seatbelt and leaned over the fluffy menace to get her bag and the old leash, resulting in a few slopy doggy kisses to her face and neck that she has to wipe off when she sits up.

"Soap, gross!" Freya complained, half-smiling half scrunching up her face as she lifted the bottom of her skirt to get rid of the warm slober he left behind.

She hooked the leash on him no problem, then hesitantly opened her door and got out. "Come on boy, be good and don't pull me please," She called, patting her thigh to encourage him to come out. She tightened the leash in her hand when he stood up, but he only hopped out nice and easy, and stood next to her as she closed the door.

"Good boy, good boy," She cooed, patting between his ears. He soaked up the praise, nearly knocking her over with his weight alone as he leaned into her legs and touch, brown fluffy tail kicking up dust as it wagged.

She stepped back, snorting at the way he stumbled and almost fell without her support. "Let's go Soap, c'mon," She told him, holding the leash loose ad she walked forward confidently.

Immediately, he fell into step next to her, almost a perfect heel. Didn't stray far enough for any tension to be on the leash, only let his nose fall to the ground when a scent was particularly interesting, and barely paid a glance at people walking by, complimenting and cooing at him fron afar.

Freya thought that whoever owned Soap must be pretty good at training and raising dogs, because he's essentially a perfect gentleman. They walk into the local pet shot without any problems, and she said hi to the worker before trying to find him some food that he liked. That was the only problem they had the entire time.

She bought another bowl, because she only had one at the moment and he would need water and food at the same time. She also bought a few toys and chews, because she didn't need anything in her old family home to end up broken or chewed on, the entire house was made of wood after all. She even bought a new leash, a simple black nylon leash that wasn't pealing and practically as old as she was.

And if she felt a little ridiculous for buying all of these different things, despite the possibility that he'd be gone within the next couple of hours? Well, Soap couldn't possibly judge her for those things. Maybe she was being a little much, buying him toys and treats like he'd be sticking around for a while, but she needed something to do while her boyfriend was out and about without her, on a hike at a nearby national park with a tour guide for most of the day.

He'd be back either super duper late, around 3am or 5am, or he'd take a rest at a hotel and drive back in the morning and get home at around 10am. Either way she'd be alone for the day, simply because hiking with Jack wasn't very fun.

Not that she didn't enjoy it, she'd spent plenty of her childhood exploring the surrounding woods both with her father and alone. Hiking with him just felt like a massive production that was about doing it to brag that you did rather than because you enjoyed it, which really sucked all the fun out of it.

She had already promised Soap she'd buy him all those things, let him pick and choose which ones he wanted, so she couldn't possibly go back on her word now, even if she felt a little silly.

When the worker offered her a couple pieces of different kibble for him to sample after she explained her situation, he turned his nose up at all of them, some he didn't even bother to sniff before knocking them out of her hand or just completely ignored them. It was like he didn't even consider it edible!

To be fair it was dry dog kibble, but also on the other side wasn't he a dog?! Just what the heck was his owner even feeding him, anyways? Raw meat?

The idea clicked in her mind, and she sighed. "You're a spoiled boy aren't you?" Then she turned to the worker and asked about raw food, to which she sadly explained that they didn't have anything like that here, which wasn't surprising. Thankfully, she directed her to the buchers just on the outskirts of town who might be able to help. So, naturally, she loaded up her temporary pup and headed out there.

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Mngwa

CR 7

Chaotic Evil Large Magical Beast

Bestiary 5, pg. 173

These terrifying man-eaters are a far cry from their original form found in folklore and fairytale, existing only to kill, torment, and punish a particular person, group, or community which has despoiled or disrespected the spirits of the primeval jungles of Golarion. They are hatred embodied, but it's not an indiscriminate hate. No, each Mngwa is born with a Focus of Hate, a creature or group of creatures (up to and including whole cities in some cases) marked for death by the spirits which crafted the shadowy cat, and its these creatures that the Mngwa focuses its wrath upon, ignoring all else unless its murderous spree is interrupted. The Mngwa always knows the exact distance and direction of the closest Focus of Hate, unerringly tracking them so long as they're not shielded by any effect which could block scrying... but a Mngwa is not a stupid, mindless beast. If its focus is shielded magically, then it will track them mundanely, following their scent and the trails they leave behind, stalking them from the shadows when they believe themselves protected, with even the prepared and paranoid often ill-equipped to spot the prowling beasts until its fangs are tearing through their throats.

When I say that Mngwa are nearly impossible to detect in the darkness, I say it completely without exaggeration. Their darkened pelts give them a +23 to Stealth checks when in forest or jungle terrain, and their Jungle Stealth allows them to utilize their full 40ft speed without compromising that intimidating number. They have a constant Feather Step effect allowing them to ignore difficult terrain entirely, and can use both Chameleon Stride and Pass Without Trace at will, the former bringing their Stealth to +27 and making them nearly invisible unless you're standing right next to them, the latter allowing them to evade any attempt to track them without magic. Not that tracking them would do much good, because these beasts are Creatures of the Night and literally stop existing when the sun rises (and are rendered temporarily powerless by Daylight and similar), reappearing near the site of their creation the next night with the benefits of a 15th-level Heal spell nursing whatever wounds they sustained and allowing them to continue their reign of terror.

But doling those wounds out in the first place is difficult, as one must survive the surprise round. As one may expect from a big cat, a Mngwa that has spotted its prey prefers to get the jump on them, which it almost always will, sometimes even allowing its prey to fall asleep first just so it drag away and dispatch the weaker and more vulnerable first like the horror movie monster it is. Once the redshirts are gone and people start staying awake every night, Mngwa charge in with Pounce, allowing them to make their Full-Attack which, predictably, is a Claw-Claw-Bite. The bite deals 2d6+7 damage, while each claw deals 1d6+7 and inflicts 1d6 bleed damage... and all three attacks can Grab onto whatever they hit, and any creature that remains grappled during the Mngwa's next turn can be freely Raked by two additional 1d6+7 + 1d6 bleed claw attacks, letting the beasts swiftly shred anything they get their mouths on. Most creatures targeted by the Pounce rarely survive failing their first Escape Artist check to break its grapple, because that's 6d6+42 damage PLUS 1d6+4 bleed, typically enough to dispatch any creature hovering around 5 Hit Dice even without critical hits.

"1d6+4?" Correct! The Murderous Claws of the Mngwa adds a flat +1 bleed damage to a bleeding target every time they hit, to a maximum of 1d6+7, so even escaping their grapple won't stop the pain, AND it allows the shadow cats to track victims much more easily if they can't staunch the flow. The only mercy offered by the Mngwa's melee is the fact it's got only 5ft of reach, rather than the 10 of a typical Large monster (it still has 10ft of space, though!), so it can only Full-Attack creatures it's standing right next to. Disengaging it repeatedly to force it to step back into melee makes its damage more manageable... provided, of course, you avoided its three grapple attempts when it first Pounced.

Unlike most big cats. Mngwa aren't glass cannons. They have 20 AC and are shielded behind DR 10/Magic, which may as well make them invincible if they're stalking a bunch of level 4 or 5 idiots who have no idea what they've done. Even managing to bypass their DR and cut them down to size does nothing but delay the horror, because so long as the Focus of Hate exists the Mngwa cannot permanently die, returning to life 1d4+1 days later once the sun sets. There are only two ways to prevent the creature's nightly hunts: every single Focus of Hate must die, or the spirits which created the creature in the first place must be appeased somehow.

In the case of the former, depending on what the crime was and how many creatures the Mngwa is focused on, the players may just help the jungle cats in their quest. Of course, ANYONE can be stuck with the jungle's curse, from a dickish thieving invader, to a group of otherwise innocent locals who made a terrible mistake, to the player characters themselves, so this is often not an option. Appeasing the spirits is usually the way to go, so a big part of the Mngwa Mystery is figuring out why it's here, which typically involves finding out precisely who among a crowd it's targeting and getting some answers out of them. Even in a higher-level campaign when the Mngwa isn't a direct threat to the PCs, its relentless inevitability make them a danger to NPCs the party may be tasked with trying to protect.

One way or another, the players have to figure out who it's trying to kill, why, and how to undo whatever they did to enrage the jungle. Mngwa cannot communicate their desires, so some intense detective work is needed! ... Just be careful not to make it TOO intense, or else you may end up with a situation like the most chilling one in it's lore: some unfortunate bloodlines have been haunted by these creatures for generations, the cats passed down from parent to child like a living curse as memories of why the thing is hunting them are gradually lost to time, leaving entire families without the knowledge of why the night itself grows claw and fang to hunt them.

You can read more about them here.

[tgmsunmontue]

Bird on a Wire (Part 2)

TGM AU. Hangster Meet-cute. This is an explicit chapter (and the next bit is even more explicit, so just stop with part one if you don't want that). There will be a third and final chapter in 24-48 hours.

PART ONE

PART TWO

            They step outside of the restaurant and Rooster’s eyes spark with amusement and promise and holy fuck this is good. Jake's entire body is thrumming.

            "You want to take me on a date huh?” Jake asks, because he definitely likes the sentiment, but he also wants to make his intentions very clear. "You cooked me dinner... surely that counts as a date? Also you've met my sisters, and we're talking months of dating before I make the person I'm dating meet my family."

            “Yeah I cooked, but I didn’t get to talk to you and I… Look. I really don’t do this. Mav would be proud.”

            The complete non-sequitur has Jake blinking, glancing around and wondering who or what Mav is.

            “Mav?”

            “My godfather. He’s all about don’t think, just do.”

            “Oh, okay.”

            “Sorry. Just, a little nervous. As I said, I don’t do this and I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

            “About what? A date? Or… sex?”

            “Both,” Rooster admits, looking away with a shrug and Jake glances a look back inside and they’ve got a fucking audience so he shuffles down the street after giving his sisters the finger.

            “Look…”

            “What?”

            “Cards on the table. I’m attracted to you, pretty sure you’re attracted to me. I’m not turning down sex with you, but it’s also not a deal breaker if it isn’t. You want to date, we can do that, but I’m good with… just seeing where tonight takes us. And following tonight up with other nights,” he states, reiterating his interest in something more than sex.

            “Okay. Yeah. Come on. There’s a little boutique ice cream place a couple of blocks that way. Do you mind walking?”

            “Lead the way…”

            Then Rooster is taking his hand again and they’re walking down the street hand-in-hand and Jake will never hear the end of it if he ends up having an anniversary that’s his sister’s fucking birthday. They arrive at a dinky little shop and when Rooster pushes the door open there’s a literal bell hanging above, which rings. There are plenty of people around, forming a wonky-queue leading to a glass-fronted counter. He looks at the flavors and pulls a face, some of them sound disgusting.

            “You want a cone or cup?”

            “Uh, cup thanks. The peanut butter cookie dough…” He goes to take out his wallet but Rooster is shaking his head.

            “Hey kid, what can I do you for?”

            “Hey Ron, two cups thanks. Roasted white chocolate and miso for me, and peanut butter cookie dough… Thanks.”

            “No worries kid, I’ll put it on your tab…” he says with a wink and Jake looks between them and notes the flush to Rooster’s cheeks as they take the cups and head back to the darkening street.

            “Another family member?”

            “Yeah, he’s my Uncle Ice’s best friend. My family is… kind of big. And weird.”

            “I have three sisters, and my parents are both from families with at least three kids…”

            “Wow. Okay, my family isn’t big like that, but it’s… kind of more a chosen family I guess.”

            “That’s cool. Do you have siblings?”

            “No. Closest I have is Phoenix.”

            “Huh. Explains her attitude towards me.”

            Instead of being apologetic Rooster just laughs, shaking his head.

            “Yeah, she does that. Come on, there’s a little park up here…”

            They settle opposite each other at a little picnic table, their feet brush a couple of times accidentally, but then Rooster’s foot hooks around his ankle and settles there permanently, occasionally rubbing up the back of his calf. It’s distracting, not as distracting as watching Rooster eat ice-cream though, seemingly oblivious to just how pornographic he looks. Jake manages to finish his ice-cream and not stab himself in the face with the little wooden spoon.

            He's not an idiot, this is everything and nothing all at once and while he really wants it to develop into something, right now he doesn't care over much either way. Rooster reaches out across the table and Jake lays his hand and they sit there, hands and fingers touching. They talk, Jake mentions his job in cyber security in the vaguest of terms, because it’s not something he can go into detail given the confidentiality around it. He learns about Rooster’s mom, and his upbringing in the hospitality industry which sounds absolutely wild, especially compared with his own one having parents in academia. The lamps in the park flicker on and they both look at each other a little ruefully.

            "Come home with me? We don’t… “

            “I thought we already agreed to just take everything as it comes?”

            “Yeah, okay. Come home with me?”

            “Can we get into your place without your entire workplace seeing us?”

            “I don’t care if they do.”

            “Oh. Okay then.”

            No secrets in his family then and something inside his gut unclenches at that information and that’s something he can unpack later. They walk back toward the restaurant, and when Rooster waves at his father before giving him the finger Jake just throws his head back and laughs. There are undeniable fluttering butterflies in his stomach as Rooster puts a key in the lock of a hidden door just down from the restaurant entrance and Jake wonders if he’s imagining the tremor in his hands. Up a few flights of stairs and then there’s another door being unlocked and Rooster is stepping back to let him go in first.

            Jake doesn't get why he's nervous now, when he's made it obvious what he wants. That Rooster has made it equally obvious that he wants the same thing. There's no fear of rejection, no expectations, no possible miscommunication just… this. Except he really wants sex right now. He’ll live without, has lived without for months, but this whole evening has been so wonderfully flirty and amusing and arousing… He feels hands settle on his waist and he sways back ever so slightly, feels the warm solid wall of Rooster’s chest behind him and relaxes against it.

            There's a pause, he can feel warm breath against the skin on his neck and he presses back into him, just in case he thinks that he might not want this. The lips he feels pressing into the nape of his neck have him tilting his head, allowing better access and he lets out a low hmm of encouragement. The hands move to his hips, pressing a bit firmer and he turns with them, turns until he's facing Rooster, looking into warm brown eyes and he can't help but return the soft smile.

            "We don't have to do anything…"

            Jake stares, knows the look he's giving him very clearly spells out that something will definitely be happening. He's been half hard since they had the ice-cream, watching Rooster lick his little wooden spoon with intent. He's over thinking it so just leans forward, hand reaching to curl around Rooster’s neck, bringing their mouths together in a kiss. He feels the fingers move a bit lower, firmer and then he's being pulled against Rooster’s body, crotches pressed against each other, and he notes gratifyingly that he's also half-hard.

            “Or we could do everything… Come on Rooster…”

            He doesn’t expect the reaction he gets, which is pulling away, a look of almost disgust, but he realizes it isn’t it, not quite.

            “Shit. My name’s Bradley. Sorry. I just… Fuck. I never told you my name. Well. It’s not Rooster. It’s Bradley. Please. Call me Bradley.”

            “Oh thank god…”

            “Did you seriously think my name was Rooster?” Bradley laughs, and Jake can’t help but laugh as well, some of the nervous tension leaving him and he rests his forehead on Bradley’s shoulder.

            “Yes. And I still went and got ice cream with you, and came up here, and kissed you… So your dad’s name isn’t Goose then? What about Phoenix?”

            “My dad is Nick, but I don’t think I’ve heard anyone call him that in years. My mom when she’s angry with him. And Phoenix is Natasha. And for the record, I know your name is Jake…”

            “Yeah, but that’s because Phoenix asked.”

            “Yeah, she probably did a background check on you.”

            Jake raises an eyebrow, well aware his record is absolutely squeaky clean. He didn’t get where he is today by making mistakes.

            “Okay, well, regardless of your stupid name I’m not going to go anywhere.”

            “That’s reassuring,” Bradley says, his lips twitching and then he’s kissing Jake again, back in his personal space and Jake presses back, removing and white-space between them. They're not gentle with each other, but there is a certainty to each of their movements, firm pressure met with equally firm resistance and Jake’s breath catches in his throat. It had started off slow but soon enough they’re thrusting against each other, Bradley’s thigh between his own as he grinds his erection against the jut of Jake’s hip.

            Mouths open, tongues sliding wetly. His entire body tingles suddenly and he lets out a little sound of contentment, pushing himself closer to the hands, body, lips that are trying to touch every part of him. He's more than okay with that, and he pulls at his shirt, wanting it off off off. Now. He ends up pulling away from him, simply so he can get naked, and the speed at which the hands return to his now bare skin is wonderful. Bradley has taken the opportunity to remove his own shirt, which he's torn about. He'd have liked to remove it himself, or at least watched him remove it… but now there's just an expanse of honey-hued skin and he licks his lips, swallows, mouth suddenly dry.

            "Did you want to do this in my entrance way, or do you want to see my bedroom?"

            For a brief second he feels embarrassed, that he's that desperate they didn't even get more than a few feet, then he remembers it was Bradley who couldn't seem to get his hands on him fast enough and he smiles slowly, hooking a finger into one of Bradley’s belt loops and nods. He tries not to break eye contact but fails miserably, eyes flicking to lips, bare chest, and the slightly paler skin that is revealed where the jeans are pulled away from Bradley’s body.

            "Hey, careful." Then he's being turned, he's almost walked backward into a coffee table.

            "Mmm. Can’t blame me if I'm a little distracted. Come on… show me where I’m going darlin’."

            He almost expects Bradley to pick him up, and huffs a laugh at his own fancifulness, instead muttering about being eager, although he's not sure if it's aimed at Bradley or himself. All of Bradley’s attention is focused on him and he lets out a long breath at that realization; it's been a while since he's had the undivided attention of someone he finds equally compelling. He finds it reassuring that it seems mutual, this lust and attraction between them. Bradley doesn’t stop touching him, hand around his waist as he gently directs them toward the bedroom.

            "Let's see if the rest of you is just as gorgeous out of clothes hmm?"

            Then there are fingers easing down his fly and his fingers scramble to Bradley’s in return. He might have missed the opportunity to remove his shirt, but he can definitely help with this. Of course he’d seen him shirtless in the restaurant, it’s what had caught his eye after all and fuck, nothing could have prepared him for how his evening would pan out and he has no regrets. Murmurs sweet endearments about how hot Bradley is under his breath which make him chuckle lowly in response, the sound of which sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

            He means every word he says, even if it sounds cheesy. Bradley is one of the most attractive men he's seen in a long time, and while he has no idea if he's flaky, he suspects not. He knows Bradley has a good sense of humor, and Jake’s had relationships based on less. Not that he's had many relationships, he's slept with plenty of people, and some hung around for a while. Others were trash fires he’d rather forget, and he worries briefly about what details Laura shared with Phoenix.

            He pushes Bradley’s jeans down, palms a hand over his ass cheeks and presses his erection to the firm line of Bradley’s hip. The movement traps Bradley’s hand between their bodies, where it had been skirting the band of his boxer briefs, jeans already around his ankles and while he remembers he toes off his shoes. Lowering his mouth he sucks and licks at the now naked skin between Bradley’s shoulder and neck, and he can taste salty-sweat and warm heat.

            He makes a trail of sucking nipping kisses down his torso, enjoys the gasped 'oh fuck' Bradley lets out, head tilting back and hips snapping forward. He kicks his shoes and pants to the side and then lowers himself to his knees, his hand still massaging an ass cheek through the stretchy fabric of Bradley’s underwear, the tang of musk and heat has him running his nose up the length of his erection, breathing in deeply through his nose. He pauses and looks up, finding Bradley watching him intently, chest rising and falling rapidly.

            He wants to ask if this is okay, but he hopes that he'd say something. Fingers slide the waist band down and he pushes them down, along with Bradley’s jeans. He licks up the length of his cock slowly, savoring the silky smooth softness of skin, the warmth and heat, the salty-bitter drop of pre-come that explodes on his tongue and sets his taste buds racing and his mouth fills with saliva. Fingers curl into his hair as Bradley balances on one leg, allowing Jake to help him pull off his sneakers and jeans and toss them to join his own clothes somewhere on the floor.

            He doesn’t want to rush this, not when it's been so long. He's not being rushed though, Bradley’s fingers in his hair aren't directing him any which way, just there. He licks his lips, using the pooled saliva to moisten his entire mouth. Using a light touch he holds Bradley’s cock and then pushes his pursed lips over the head, creating as much suction as he can.

            Then the fingers in his hair tighten, and he hears Bradley swear creatively. He'd grin, or say something, but instead focusses on the slide, the contrast in texture, the smell. He moves his hand back to cup an ass cheek, his other hand resting on Bradley’s hip, thumb brushing over the taut skin on his lower stomach as he starts the instinctive up-down motion. He's not going for fancy licks or twists, there will be time later to find out exactly how to make Bradley fall apart. Judging from the sounds he can hear above him, muffled by the blood rushing in his own ears, he's doing just fine anyway, Bradley’s body thrusting toward him as much as he allows.

            The twinge in his jaw reminds him he's out of practice but he ignores it, instead pays attention to the drag of soft skin against the roof of his mouth, the taste of leaking pre-cum on his tongue, the sounds Bradley is making, the smell of their combined arousal and the sight of Bradley, watching him do this, cock sliding in-and-out of his mouth.

            He looks up and Bradley’s head is thrown back, Adam’s apple bobbing and Jake wants to bite it. Then Bradley shifts, eyes open and he’s looking down the length of his body, gaze intense and Jake pulls off. Watches him lick his lips, body shuddering slightly and Jake’s hands tighten on his hip as Bradley makes a soft whine and Jake wraps a firm hand around his erection and stands up again.

            “Sorry, out of practice…” His voice is rough, and he scrapes his teeth over Bradley’s earlobe, sucking gently at the pulse point just below. He shifts his hand on his cock a little firmer, little faster. "Can you come like this? Not too rough?"

            "Yeah. Yeah. Definitely," Bradley hisses and Jake can feel his nails digging into his shoulder. “Fuck. You know, you can practice on me you know. Every day. I’m generous like that…”

            “Oh, I just bet you are darlin’, come on now…”

            He wouldn’t be able to stand the treatment he’s giving Bradley’s cock, would be too rough, but Bradley’s fingernails rasp through Jake’s chest hair roughly, his body has started trembling and he manages a breathy-shaky 'fuck close, please' which just spurs Jake on, hand firmer and faster. Then Bradley’s coming, white hot, all the muscles in his body seeming to flex and release at once and he can hear his breath, coming in sharp pants.

            He doesn't have a chance to catch his breath before he's being kissed, his open mouth a clear invitation and he kisses back, tongue sliding against hard teeth and warm hot flesh. Then he's being jostled, guided backwards, and god, they didn't even make it to Bradley’s bed, although at least he can say they made it to his bedroom. Just. Bradley pulls the sheets and duvet back and Jake watches, heart rate slowing down slightly but his skin prickles with the knowledge that the night has only just started.

PART THREE

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

157 of 2025

1) How old do you look?

People say mid-20s. I'm about 10 years older than I look.

2) Where do you live?

Belgium.

3) Are you waiting for something?

Yeah, my husband to decide what to order from Takeaway.

4) What's one pet peeve of yours that is not common?

I don't know if it's common or not, but people blocking the aisle in the store with their cradles. Like, you're not the only person in the shop, you know?

5) Last myspace message you received, what'd it say?

Lol does myspace even still exist?

6) Can you handle the truth?

You can't handle the truth. Sorry I had to.

7) Did you cry today?

Kind of. I was upset because my husband was an asshole today. It never lasts long, but yeah, it's fkn annoying.

8) Do you hate the last person you had a conversation with?

My husband, about food and selling things/printing the shipping label.

Welp I misread this question XD nope, I don't hate him. I love him, very much so. Even though he's a pain in the ass sometimes.

9) Do you have kids?

No, I don't. Not on my own. But I have a stepson, so yeah, I think it counts as having a child.

10) Have you ever thought about converting your religion?

Nah. I was raised Catholic, went through atheist phase when I was younger, then agnostic, now I'm closer to my faith than ever, but I don't believe in organised religion. I disagree with many things Catholicism says. I go to the church, but only when I have an inner need, not for holy masses.

11) Last shocking news you heard?

Pope Francis passed away.

12) What was the last thing you drank?

Just some Fanta with my evening meds.

13) Last person you hugged?

My husband, too. He pissed me off, but in the end, I still love him.

14) Who do you most look like in your family?

A mix of my mum and dad.

15) Did you dream last night?

Yeah. I had a dream about friendly big black dog and four orange kitties. And strawberries on a cherry tree lol.

16) How many piercings do you have?

Nine in total. Six in my ears (three in each), left eyebrow and snakebites.

17) If you could have something right now, anything, what would it be?

Another kitty, a night train ride, a new tattoo.

18) Does anyone call you babe?

Thankfully not. I hate it. On a personal level, I find pet names cringy.

19) Where does most of your family live?

In Belgium, but my closest family resides in France now.

20) Where did you grow up?

Middelkerke, Belgium. Yes we got the coast.

21) Where do you want to go on vacation?

Poland again.

22) Have you broken a bone?

Nope, never in my life. But I drink a lot of milk, maybe that's why.

23) What did you receive for Valentine's Day?

Literally nothing lol. Wait, some tulips.

24) Have you ever had a panic attack?

Probably. Or maybe it was actually a seizure. I don't know anymore.

25) Can you sleep in jeans?

Lol no. Way too thick. I cannot sleep in anything other than underwear.

26) What can't you wait for?

Visiting my parents this summer.

27) When's the last time you told someone you loved them and meant it?

Today. My husband is difficult sometimes, but he knows I love him.

28) Have your parents ever smoked pot?

My dad did. He didn't really like it, though.

29) Want someone back in your life?

Yeah. That friend who used to call me "his little brother".

30) Do you live near your most recent ex?

No. He moves across the Europe as he's a soldier. I still love him, though. We're still close friends.

31) Are you good at giving directions?

No. I have a photographic memory, but I£ cannot describe what I see with words. So I see the way clearly, but I cannot find words for what I see.

32) What do you order at the bar?

I don't go to bars.

33) When was the last time you cried really, really hard?

In December 2023, when my beloved kitty Victoria passed away.

34) Who was your last text from?

My dad, probably.

35) Ever licked someone's cheek?

No, but my cat enjoys licking my cheek.

36) what is your favorite thing to eat with peanut butter?

Nothing, I hate peanut butter..

37) Where were you on July 4th, 2007?

Oh damn lol, this survey is old. It was 18 years ago, right?

38) What body part(s) do you wash first in the shower?

...do you really want to know it?

39) Have you ever kissed anyone who's name started with a D?

Nope.

40) Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

Warm, but not too hot. Preferably sunny. I like thunderstorms, too.

41) What do you currently hear right now?

Husband is watching snooker in TV.

42) Does someone like you right now?

I hope my husband does lol. It's been years together.

43) Could you go out in public looking like you do now?

Nope. I'm just out from the shower.

44) What are your nicknames?

Jelle, this is what my family nicknamed me because apparently I was responding with Jelle when I was a toddler, being asked what my name is. One of my friends calls me "koekstje" and I find it funny.

45) On the opposite sex where do you like them to have piercings?

I don't care for the opposite sex, I'm gay.

46) If you could go any place in the world right now where would you go?

To my parents.

47) Have you ever made someone so mad that they broke something?

No. My husband never breaks things lol.

48) Have you ever kissed someone and hated it?

Kind of. That's how I discovered I'm not into kissing.

49) What is your favorite color?

Black, green, purple. Not all shades, though.

50) If you could go back in time, how far back would you go?

Before I got disabled so maybe I would prevent it.