#man just easily becomes the highlight of everything he's in

[sarcasticjuiceboxes]

if i had a nickel for everytime show kasamatsu played a morally gray character with an impressionable younger brother he's trying to keep uncorrupted by violence i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

A Firm Partner

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Lawyer Joel Miller x Female Reader Summary: Mr. Miller needs you to stay late... even if tomorrow is your birthday. Warnings: porn with very little plot, smut, unprotected p in v, office sex, couch sex, desk sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), joel has a filthy mouth, joel carries you and refuses to pull out while doing so, joel eats pussy from the back, probably the best way to ever wake up, law talk (but not a lot, this is an escape), no use of y/n Word Count: 3,400

A/N: Happy birthday dear @ohheypedrito! You are the absolute cornerstone of my Pedro obsession and nothing has been better than sharing in the delulu of him over the past couple of years. I can't believe we've known each other for 20+ years and all it took was Pedro Pascal to become so close. Sometimes I truly don't know how I'd be able to survive without our delulu yap sessions. Thank you for all that you do, and most importantly, being my friend. I wrote this while wearing my TTPD cardigan and listening to our shared delulu Joel Miller songs. 🪿 Thanks to @schnarfer and @mothandpidgeon for their input and always letting me talk about how much @ohheypedrito means to me lol. Please also enjoy the requested nose against clit and playful spank mentions gifted from @schnarfer.

Masterlist

—-

The conference room is full of your coworkers, engaged in hushed conversations with each other as you take your seat at the mahogany table. Joel Miller strides in, your eyes are instantly drawn to him as the room hushes, his mere presence commanding attention.

He settles into the high-backed leather chair at the head of the table, everyone and everything seems to shrink around his presence. Joel’s reputation precedes him, his firm is the most prestigious in Austin. You can hardly believe you landed a position here, fresh out of law school. But you’re here now, sitting mere feet away from the man himself. You admire his broad shoulders filling out his impeccably tailored suit, the dark green color of his shirt highlighting the golden glow of his skin and the deep chocolate brown of his eyes. 

“Good morning everyone,” his deep voice rumbles through the room as he begins to outline the case. You try to pay attention to him, try to focus on the case, but you can’t stop thinking about his plush lips. Would they taste of the strong coffee he’s drinking? How warm are they this morning? You’re mesmerized, watching the way his mouth forms each word, the slight Texas drawl rolling easily out. 

You’re interrupted from your reverie when you hear your last name and look up, your eyes meeting Joel’s. “You’re going to need to stay late with me tonight and get this taken care of.”

You nod, attempting to hide a sly smile as he continues on.

—-

The office fell silent hours ago, the last of your colleagues had long trickled out as the sun set. The only sounds now are distant noises from the city below and the clicking of your heels on the polished floor as you walk down the dark hallway to Joel's office.

You stop at the threshold, taking a quick moment to admire Joel. He’s sitting hunched over his desk, the light of his desk lamp casting him in a golden aura. His dark green shirt, usually crisp and buttoned to perfection, is now softened by the late hour. He’s undone the top few buttons, your eyes widen when you’re blessed with the glimpse of his neck and chest. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his toned forearms dusted with dark hair. His long, thick fingers absently tap against the stack of papers in front of him. Sensing your presence, he looks up, his dark eyes finding yours in the dim light.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “I need you to take a look. Close the door.”

The door clicks as it softly shuts, now it’s just you and Joel Miller in his office filled with polished furniture and framed accomplishments. The heady scent of him overwhelms you—coffee and expensive woodsy cologne—as you move towards him. Joel’s intense gaze follows your every move as you stand next to him. His shirt pulls taut across his broad chest when he leans back, running a hand through his hair.

“These depositions,” he says, gesturing to the papers on his desk. “Something’s not adding up.”

You lean in, acutely aware of how close he is as you scan the documents. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body as you reach for a page. He watches as you read through it, your eyes scanning through the typical legal jargon.

"What do you make of this discrepancy?"

"I think… we need to look closer at the witness statements,” you lay the paper down, searching for another file.

“I think you’re right,” he murmurs as he leans in to examine the paper.

“We should compare these statements side by side.”

“Mm, good idea. There’s more room on the couch.”

You nod, goosebumps prickling across your skin as you walk over and settle amongst the cool, leather cushions.

He sits next to you, impossibly close, you’re acutely aware of every point where your bodies almost touch. Joel leans back, the leather creaking slightly, as he casually drapes an arm along the back of the couch, just inches from your shoulders.

You try to focus on the papers in your lap, but you find it too daunting as he leans even farther in.

“What do you think?”

You turn your head slightly, your lips now mere inches away from his. Intense and unreadable dark brown eyes stare into yours. You can hear the ticking of the clock sitting on his desk and yet time stands still.

“I think…" your voice barely above a whisper. “We need to look closer.”

Your mind races, you can hardly keep any semblance of composure as he shifts slightly, his thigh now pressing against yours. The heat of his body seeps through the thin fabric of your skirt.

“Closer, huh?” he drawls.

You nod. Joel's eyes flicking down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze.

“Mr. Miller,” you whisper.

“Baby, you know you can call me Joel.”

“Joel…”

The papers on your lap flutter to the floor as he closes the remaining distance between you. His lips are warm, soft, and familiar, reminding you of the last time you kissed him–yesterday morning when he backed you up into the supply room, whispering against your skin how much he missed you. 

A soft whimper leaves your lips as your mouth opens, allowing his tongue to taste yours. A trail of fire is left on your skin when his hand slides up your thigh, bunching your skirt as he goes. He knows how to touch you and how to make you moan… Joel Miller knows you.

Charting a path, his lips move to your neck, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive spot he knows you love to be kissed at.

You’re whimpering, already writhing against the smooth, cool leather of the couch. All day you’ve tried to focus on work, tried to figure out the case in front of you, but your mind was consumed by thoughts of Joel’s body pressed against yours again. It’s been almost six months of sneaking around, of heated glances across conference rooms, of always feeling his eyes on you while you’re in the office. Six months of pretending you're just another associate, when really you're the one who knows exactly how Joel Miller likes to be touched.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day darlin’,” he drawls. “Been waitin’ for you.”

Thick fingers find the apex of your thighs, already slick with need. He clutches your thighs, parting your legs as his palm grazes along your silky skin there. He smirks, a devilish look, when he feels just how wet you are for him.

His lips find yours again, kissing you deeply, like he really has been waiting for you.

You’re squirming, aching for more, and when he slides a hand higher, skimming the edge of your damp underwear, you sigh his name. “Joel…”

“Love it when you say my name baby,” he growls, pressing his finger against the soaked fabric. “Can feel how much you want me.”

His fingers slip beneath the elastic, finding your slick, swollen flesh. A long moan escapes you as he parts your folds, stroking your needy pussy. Your hands fist in his dark green shirt, holding on as he his thumb circles your clit. His touches are confident and purposeful, working you over like you’re a case.

Open-mouthed kisses are trailed along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at your racing pulse before soothing it with his tongue.

“You’re so wet f’me, aren’t you?”

You moan an affirmative noise as he leaves one last, chaste kiss against your lips before he moves to settle on the floor between your parted legs, his hands gripping your hips tugging you to the edge of the leather couch.

He slowly drags your panties down your legs, throwing them behind him before bunching your skirt up around your waist. He spreads your legs wider, his brown eyes darkening as he takes in the sight of your pussy dripping for him.

“Look at you, baby, so beautiful. Been thinkin’ about tastin’ this pussy all damn day.”

His dark eyes meet yours before he dips his head, the tip of his nose sweetly bumping against your clit as his tongue licks against your aching cunt. Your fingers thread through his thick hair, holding him close as he laps up the taste of you.

The way his tongue slides along your slick folds, teasing and probing before plunging inside has you arching off the couch with a gasp. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he sighs contentedly, his mouth working tirelessly to taste you.

"Oh god, Joel…" you cry, fisting your hands in his thick, dark hair.

He hums against you, the vibrations making you shudder. He holds you in place as he alternates between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue against your clit, keeping you right on the edge.

When he slides two thick fingers inside your slick heat, you nearly come undone. He pumps them in and out, slowly, so achingly slow.

"Joel..." you whimper, fisting your hands in the dark waves of his hair.

"You taste like heaven, baby," he rasps. "Could spend all night right here, worshippin' this perfect little pussy."

The tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head. You're right there, chasing that peak you’ve been waiting to climb all day.

"That's it, baby," he rasps against your flesh. "Cum for me.”

His gruff words are your undoing. With a sharp cry, you shatter, your walls clenching around his fingers as your orgasm rolls through you. He works you through it, not letting up until you're spent, chest heaving and panting.

Your limbs are loose as you float back down to earth in the middle of Joel Miller’s office, he places a soft kiss against your core before crawling back up your body.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’,” he growls before kissing you. You moan, licking the taste of yourself from his lips and tongue. Your hands slip under his shirt, feeling the plush of his belly before the hard planes of his chest.

Joel pulls back, his dark eyes boring into yours with intensity. He grips the fabric of his shirt and with one swift motion, tears it open. Buttons scatter across the room, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. You smile and take in the sight of his broad, golden chest.

You fumble with the smooth fabric of your blouse as you quickly remove it, revealing your light blue lace bra. He growls, fixated on the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath you take.

His large hands run up and down your stomach as you reach behind and unclasp your bra, letting it fall away.

“Perfect,” he breathes before dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, teeth grazing lightly. His hand comes up to palm your other breast, kneading the soft flesh.

You're writhing beneath him, cunt aching with need as he sucks and nips at your breasts. “Please Joel,” you whimper.

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, a devilish grin on his face. "Please what, darlin'? Tell me what you need."

"I need you.”

With a groan, he pulls back, undoing his belt and zipper, shoving his pants and boxers down, his hard cock springs free, his thick shaft hard and ready to fuck you. Veins trace along the length of him, pulsing with need.

You lick your lips unconsciously, wanting to taste the bead of precum glistening in the dim office light. Your hands reach out, feeling the nest of dark curls at his base as you give him one, long and tight pump. His hand covers yours, and with an agonizing slowness, you both stroke him, spreading the slick precum along his cock.

“Fuck me Mr. Miller.”

He groans, his hips bucking slightly before hooking his arms under your knees, lifting your legs up and apart, spreading you wide open as he notches himself at your entrance.

One, smooth thrust in and he’s sheathed fully inside your wet heat.

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good," he grunts, his thick cock spearing you as your hands roam over the flexing muscles of his back, your nails digging into his skin as he fucks you into the leather couch.

He pauses, his dark brown eyes locked on yours in the dim light of his office. You feel deliciously full, stretched around him.

"You take me so well, darlin',” he rasps, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips.

The leather couch creaks beneath you, his hands clamp down on your hips, yanking you against him as he pounds into your wet pussy. His breath is hot against your neck, as he sucks against the delicate skin there, fucking you senseless.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you up against his broad chest. You gasp at the sudden change, when he lifts you off the couch, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Hold on tight, baby.”

You oblige, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Your breasts press firmly against his chest, nipples dragging against the coarse hair of him there. He walks you across his office over to the desk, his thick cock shifting inside you with each step. You exhale a breathy giggle when his palm makes contact with your ass, leaving a sweet sting against your flesh.

“Fuck darlin’, you feel so good wrapped around me like this.” 

His thighs flex with each thrust as he pounds you relentlessly. He growls your name, fucking into you, his legs set wide as he stands. Your head falls back, exposing your throat to his hungry mouth. He latches on, sucking and nipping, grunting against your skin. 

With one swift motion, he sweeps everything off his desk, scattering papers and pens to the floor before placing you on the edge of the desk. A small whimper leaves your lips when he pulls out, your pussy already missing the stretch of his cock. You’re pathetic for his cock, trembling with need, your legs spread wide. He steps back and looks you up and down, the edge of his mouth lifted in a cocky grin as he admires your wide eyes and heaving chest. 

“Turn around and bend over for me darlin’.”

You comply, sliding off the desk and turning around, spreading your legs wide, presenting your ass and cunt to him. 

“Mm,” Joel breathes appreciatively before you feel him kneel behind you. 

He pulls you back slightly, your pussy meeting his warm breath ghosting over your skin, a shiver of anticipation rolls through you when you feel the tickle of his beard on the backs of your thighs as he nuzzles against you. 

“Goddamn, you look good enough to eat.”

Your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth desk surface at the first swipe of his tongue against you. A long, low hum vibrates against your cunt as he delves deeper, his tongue worshipping every fold and crevice of your pussy. His nose bumps against your ass he buries his face between your legs, the wet sounds of his mouth working you over fills the office. 

You whine, your hips rocking back against his face, squirming all over his eager mouth. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling in relentless circles. Your legs begin trembling, barely able to hold you up. He chuckles lowly, before leaving one last kiss against your pussy. 

He rises behind you, his hands sliding up your back to grip your shoulders, his cock hard and lightly tapping against your ass.

“Easy now,” he grits, his voice rough and low. Your hips sway at the anticipation of feeling the length of him pulsing inside you again. 

The broad head of his cock teases your entrance before he pushes into you, stretching you wide. He leans over you slightly, one hand moving up to press between your shoulder blades while the other clutches the edge of the desk for balance. His skin meeting your skin echoes through the room blending with your heavy breathing. 

Your eyes flutter open, catching sight of the reflection in the window. Joel–his jaw clenched tight, brows furrowed together creasing his forehead, deep brown eyes watching his cock fuck your accepting pussy is backlit by the city lights twinkling outside. His power is on full display for only you and the secret you two keep. 

He pulls almost all the way out, swirling his length around your entrance, before sinking back in, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he anchors himself. Your fingers claw at the desk, searching for something to hold onto as his cock pistons into you. 

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me, can feel you gettin’ ready. Need to see your pretty face when you cum f’me.” 

He grabs your waist, turning you over with ease. He hovers above you, his broad frame caging you in, pressing your back against the smooth surface.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, baby," he promises. "Gonna make you feel it for days. You deserve it, don’t ya’?"

Wide eyed, and staring at him, you nod.

He sinks back into you with one deep thrust, bottoming out inside your slick heat, your head rolling back as he fills you completely.

"That's it darlin'," he rasps, his hips snapping against yours. "Take me so well."

Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer, deeper. His thick cock drags along your walls with each thrust, his finger finds your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. Your head falls back against the desk, a high keen escaping your lips.

"Look at me," he commands gruffly. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you cum for me.”

You force your heavy lids open, meeting his intense dark gaze. His brow is furrowed in concentration, a light sheen of sweat on his golden skin.

The pressure builds inside you with each stroke of his thick cock, every swipe of his finger against your clit. Your entire body feels like a livewire, every nerve ending alight within you.

"That's it, baby. You're so close, I can feel it. Your sweet little pussy's grippin' me so tight."

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to tumble over. Joel fucks you more erratically, his breathing labored. You know he’s cresting on the edge, right next to you. 

The tension inside you snaps. Your back arches off the desk as your orgasm bursts through you. Your walls clenching Joel's cock as you cry out his name, your vision going white at the edges. 

"Fuck, you're so perfect," he grunts. "Feel so good cumming on my cock."

A guttural groan tears from his throat as he stills, spilling deep inside you.

You cling to each other as you float down from the high, pulses gradually slowing. He places tender kisses along your jaw before claiming your lips in a slow, deep kiss.

"Should we get back to work?" you ask against his lips, a sated smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest pressed to yours. "I think we're done for tonight, sweetheart. Let me take you home, want to wake up next to you on your birthday." 

—

Your body feels heavy and relaxed with sleep, but there's a warmth building between your thighs. Slowly drifting into consciousness, you become aware of the source - Joel’s tongue lapping at the sensitive skin between your legs.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers instinctively carding through the thick tendrils of his hair. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he devours your pussy.

Blinking away the last signs of sleep, you prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. His dark eyes twinkle with golden flecks lit by the soft early morning light filtering through the curtain when they meet yours.

He pulls back slightly, his plush lips and beard shiny from your slick. A roguish grin spreads across his face as he gives you a wink.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he drawls before diving back in between your legs. 

—-

🪿

[lutorao]

Doffy 🦩

Doffy being jealous over Luffy, is my fav moment

let me explain okay?

here we go

Doffy knew every single thing about Law

how he survived, his backstory, his history, his goals(this is debatable cauz his goals changed after Cora's death) and etc.

Law was a traumatized child who had lost everyone and everything. He believed that he only had 3 years left to live, so he had to experience everything in those three years.

he lost his parents, his sister, his friends and everyone

Doffy was a man who had experienced hunger, the kind that gnawed at your bones and left you hollow. He had known the anguish of losing a parent, the primal fear of death stalking his every step, and the burning rage that only betrayal and abandonment could ignite. Doflamingo was no ordinary tyrant; he was a man molded by pain, and that pain had birthed his relentless hunger for power and control.

Law reminded himself of this truth every time he thought of the man who had once loomed over him like a god. He had seen that rage firsthand—the seething fury of someone who had lost everything and now sought to take everything from others in return. Doflamingo wasn’t just a warlord; he was a survivor who had clawed his way to the top, dragging anyone he could down into the depths with him

And then one day he finds out that Law created an alliance with who? with Luffy

Doffy had high hopes for him

But Law had walked away. He had chosen someone else.

Doffy couldn’t forgive that.

For all his power and charisma, Doffy was a man who demanded loyalty to the point of obsession. Law’s betrayal wasn’t just a practical blow; it was a personal insult, a rejection of the twisted connection they had once shared. And worse, Law had chosen him.

Monkey D. Luffy.

A man who embodied everything Doffy scorned. A fool with reckless dreams, an idealist who sought freedom in a world where freedom didn’t exist.

So yes he got mad,of course he got,he was confused. law isn't someone who trusts people that easily. he was confused because he chose luffy, why him? why luffy? why he trust him that much?

What could Law possibly see in him? Doflamingo had given Law purpose, power, and the means to enact his revenge. Luffy had given him… hope? Friendship? Law could almost hear Doflamingo’s sneer as he thought of it: "I made you. I saved you. And you abandoned me for him?"

Why did you choose him, Law?! I thought you were a smarter man than this!" The anger in these words isn’t simply about the alliance; it’s deeply personal. Doflamingo prides himself on understanding people, bending them to his will, and shaping them into extensions of his vision. Law choosing Luffy is, to Doflamingo, proof that he misjudged Law. Worse, it highlights Doflamingo’s own insecurities his inability to inspire true loyalty beyond fear or manipulation.

Doflamingo’s jealousy stems from this realization. Law’s choice wasn’t just about strategy, it was about rejecting Doflamingo’s way of life in favor of something he could never offer: trust, camaraderie, and a vision of a world not ruled by fear. For a man like Doflamingo, who thrives on dominance and sees relationships as tools, this rejection is both infuriating and incomprehensible.

he was still here, thinking about him, right?

"do you remember the first day we met law?"

imagine how annoying this was for him

Doffy was the man who taught Law how to fight. Doffy was the man who killed his own brother because his brother "betrayed" him. Now imagine how disappointed, angry, and hurt he must have been when he discovered that the person he had placed so much hope in—the one he thought would one day become his right-hand man, whether to exact revenge or fulfill his own ambitions—had chosen someone else. A pirate. Someone for whom Law had risked everything in the middle of a war to save his life. And if that wasn’t enough, now an alliance? Against him, no less. Many believe that Law used Luffy. Really?

Does this pannel really look like he was using him?

And as strange as it may seem, Law truly wasn’t opposed to the idea of Luffy using him instead.

How crazy must a person be?!

I mean look at is face

"using? who's using whom...?

As if that wasn’t enough, he also entrusted Luffy with his deepest secret—Corazon. He preferred to die alongside Luffy rather than live without him. And on top of that, he worried about him? Is the alliance over? What are you doing here?

Law, get a grip—you’re being far too obvious!

A man who had no faith, who trusted no one, suddenly shares his deepest secret with someone else? Oh, Law… And to place his hopes in him, of all people? Yet, look at how confident and happy he is every single time Luffy declares he’ll become the Pirate King. He was like, “That’s my boy.”

(from anime btw)

and I don’t know if it’s because of Cora, maybe even Luffy, but it’s clear that this character’s development is undeniable, right?

Thank u

[pretzel-box]

The Third Month

Words: 3,2k

Tags: Lots of fluff, comfort, affection, established relationship, seabunny hybrid reader, reader is FEMALE, DO NOT READ WITH A FAINT HEART I WARN YOU

status: NOT PROOF READ OR EDITED.

authors note: Thank you all for 100 followers!!♡

It's been a month since the lockdown began, and your life took a drastic turn when you were picked up by none other than Sebastian Solace himself. Before that day, you had been on your own, treated like nothing more than a lab rat by Urbanshade—a mere experiment in their endless quest for progress. Your memories of the world outside the Hadal Blackside were foggy at best, but one thing you knew for certain: you were different now. A sea bunny hybrid, with soft, pale skin, black freckles and delicate, fluttering appendages on your head that set you apart from the rest of humanity. You had always felt out of place, even before the experiments, but now, you doubted society would ever accept someone as strange as you.

When the lockdown happened, and someone—no, he—freed all the experiments, including you, it felt like a new beginning. With nowhere else to go, you found yourself gravitating toward the one person who had shown you kindness in this forsaken underwater facility.The sea-serpent merchant, had opened his shop to you, offering you more than just shelter. He gave you purpose. Over the past four weeks, you had thrown yourself into helping him run his little store, finding comfort in the routine and the company of the mysterious man who had saved you.

During that time, something unexpected happened. Your cheerful, excited nature, a trait that had once felt like a burden in a world that demanded seriousness and submission, became a source of warmth in Sebastian’s otherwise cold and calculated life. You didn’t notice it at first—how his glances lingered longer, how his touch became gentler, or how his voice softened whenever he spoke to you. But he noticed. The walls he had built around himself began to crumble, and before he knew it, he had fallen hard for you.

And now, here you were, sitting side by side in his shop, the dim lights casting a warm glow over the two of you. Your days had become a blend of work and stolen moments of affection. The once-stoic sea-serpent was now your partner, keeping you safe and secure in all this giant mess.

You ran up to him, your heart pounding in anticipation, arms outstretched for the embrace you had been longing for as if you hadn't seen him in years. Every step you took was fueled by the yearning that had built up during your time apart, a craving for his touch, his warmth, his affection. When you finally reached him, it felt like everything inside you lit up, a warm, comforting feeling spreading through your chest as your emotions surged, deep and intense.

Sebastian caught you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping around you as he lifted you off the ground. The way he held you—his hands gently cradling your waist—was so tender, so full of care, that you felt an immediate sense of belonging, like you were finally home. It was a sensation you cherished, one that you had come to associate with him alone.

“I’m back!” you exclaimed, your voice bubbling with excitement. As you looked at him, your eyes couldn’t help but trace every detail of his face, illuminated softly by the glow of his anglerfish lure. The dim light highlighted his sharp features, and you marveled at the way it brought out the depths of his fluorescent blue eyes. Those eyes, which had once seemed so distant, were now a comforting ocean in which you could easily get lost.

“Welcome back,” he replied in that deep, soothing voice of his, and as he leaned in, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was a simple gesture, but one that meant everything to you. This forehead kiss had become a cherished ritual, a sign of his affection that greeted you every time you returned from one of your little expeditions. The moment felt timeless, as if the world outside the two of you didn’t exist, leaving just the warmth of his embrace and the comforting familiarity of his presence.

As he set you down gently, his hands lingered on your waist, and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. The bond between you had grown so much over time, and it was moments like these that made you realize just how deeply you had fallen for him. The affection you felt was almost overwhelming, filling every corner of your heart as you looked into his eyes, knowing that he felt the same way too.

"Hey, Sebby," you called out, using the nickname that had taken him some time to get used to. "Are you ever going to admit that you love my company as much as I love yours?"

He looked up from his work, his deep blue eyes meeting yours with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "You're insufferable," he grumbled, but the slight curve of his lips betrayed him.

"And you wouldn’t have it any other way," you shot back with a grin.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he returned to his task. "You’ve turned my world upside down, you know that?"

"Good," you replied, moving closer to him. "Because you’ve done the same for me."

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm. The simple touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of how much you cared for him. In the dim light of the shop, with the familiar scent of sea salt and old files around you, everything felt perfect—like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

One of the many things Sebastian adored about you was your genuine curiosity for the things he did. He appreciated how you made an effort to understand his hobbies, so you could spend more time with him without disrupting his work. One of these hobbies was the skill of repairing broken devices, like flashlights and codebreakers. Fixing them for his shop was a crucial task, and you took on the challenge with excitement, eager to earn his praise.

“Like this?” you asked, sitting at the table with his tail serving as your seat. His head hovered above yours, casting a warm glow over your workspace with his anglerfish lure and guiding you. Two of his large hands rested on your waist out of habit, while his third hand assisted you in repairing the blacklight in front of you.

“Hold it steady, bunny,” he murmured with a smile, leaning his chin gently on top of your hair.

“I almost have it—” you began, but were interrupted by a sudden cough, quickly raising your arm to cover your mouth.

Sebastian’s focus shifted immediately as he heard your cough. The sound was soft but sharp enough to cut through the peaceful atmosphere of your shared workspace. His tail tensed slightly beneath you, and his hands instinctively tightened their grip on your waist. He had grown accustomed to your energy, your excitement, and the way you threw yourself into learning his trade. But lately, there had been small signs—moments of fatigue, occasional coughing spells, a distant look in your eyes—that he couldn’t quite ignore.

He leaned down closer, his anglerfish lure casting a gentle glow over your face. “Are you okay?” His deep voice was laced with concern, even as he tried to keep his tone casual.

You nodded quickly, trying to brush it off as nothing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just got a bit of dust in my throat, that’s all.”

You were so determined, so eager to help, and he loved that about you. It made his heart swell with pride every time you managed to fix something on your own, the look of accomplishment on your face more precious to him than any treasure in his shop.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Just be careful. You don’t want to damage the circuit.”

You smiled up at him, grateful for his patience and guidance. “I got this,” you assured him, turning your attention back to the task at hand.

Sebastian watched you work, his chin still resting gently on top of your head. He couldn’t help but marvel at how natural it felt to have you there, sitting on his tail, leaning into him for warmth and support. The way you fit into his life so seamlessly was something he hadn’t expected, but now that he had you, he couldn’t imagine things any other way. Your curiosity, your determination to learn his skills, and the way you always seemed to know just what he needed—these were the things that made him fall for you, deeper every day.

“Almost there,” you murmured, your focus back on the blacklight. You carefully soldered the last connection, and with a satisfied smile, you held it up for Sebastian to see. “I think it’s fixed!”

He grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the soft light. “That’s my girl,” he praised, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “You did great.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you leaned back against him, basking in the warmth of his approval.

Two months had passed, and it had become a personal ritual for you to gather every blanket, pillow, and soft item you could find in the facility to create a giant, cozy nest to sleep in. The Hadal Blacksite was hardly known for its comfort, especially after the lockdown, so you took it upon yourself to transform the back of Sebastian’s shop into a haven of warmth and peace.

Wrapped in layers of blankets, only your head peeked out from the mound, your sea bunny antennae twitching slightly. Sebastian often glanced over at you with a mix of amusement and affection.

“You sleep a lot lately, bunny,” he chuckled, setting aside the file he had been reading. “I might start to think you love that pile of blankets more than me at this point.”

You responded with a soft hum, barely lifting your head from the sea of fabric. The words were true; you had been spending an increasing amount of time resting and lounging around. Sometimes, you sprawled out on the floor like a starfish, and Sebastian had to gently pick you up to avoid any mishaps, like an expandable accidentally stepping on your delicate form.

Despite his teasing, there was a warmth in his eyes every time he looked at you. He cherished these moments of quiet companionship, even if they were punctuated by the gentle, playful banter.

The sight of you, nestled in your cozy pile of blankets, was so inviting that sometimes Sebastian couldn’t resist closing the shop earlier than usual. He’d join you in your fortress of softness, slipping into the pile of fabric with a contented sigh. Laying beside you, he would hold you close, his tail gently wrapping around your body as he settled in. His hands would drift to your antennae, where he’d softly massage the space between them, eliciting a delighted hum from you.

The two of you would lie there, not quite sleeping but basking in the warmth of each other's presence. Occasionally, Sebastian would lightly brush a stray strand of hair from your face or press a soft kiss to your temple, the gentle touches filled with affection. Your fingers would intertwine with his, and you’d both enjoy the peaceful silence, simply resting and savoring the comfort of being close.

In those moments, time seemed to slow down. You’d share lazy smiles, exchanging barely a word and just stay in a comforting silence. Sometimes, Sebastian would rest his chin on top of your head, and you’d sigh contentedly, your body relaxing further into the embrace...

Three months into your time together, on what seemed like an average day, Sebastian was out scavenging for supplies. He moved through the abandoned corridors with practiced ease, his eyes darting around with a sharp, attentive gaze. Each room he passed was briefly examined, every locker and shelf scrutinized for forgotten treasures and useful items.

As he rifled through the remnants of the old world, his attention was suddenly caught by a flash of something pristine—an untouched pillow, perfectly intact and just waiting to be added to your growing collection. For a split second, the sight of it seemed almost like a beacon, calling out to him with a soft glow of potential.

Sebastian had developed a little habit during these scavenger runs. He wouldn’t admit it, but his gift-giving had become a personal love language. While his primary goal was to find useful items for the shop, he also kept an eye out for anything that might make you smile. The way your eyes would light up with delight over even the simplest of things he brought back was a source of pure joy for him. It motivated him to turn part of his shop into a mini-storage of items he thought you’d like.

He carefully picked up the pillow, examining it with a satisfied nod before tucking it away in his bag. As he continued his search, he found himself thinking of you, imagining your reaction when you’d see this new addition to your cozy pile. The thought made him smile, his heart warming at the idea of bringing a bit more comfort to your world.

Returning to the shop, Sebastian's thoughts were occupied with the joy of seeing you unwrap the pillow. He could almost hear your excited gasp and see the way you’d curl up around it, adding yet another layer of softness to your makeshift haven. This small act of thoughtfulness was his way of showing you how much he cared, a tender gesture that spoke louder than words.

But then, amidst his searching, a sound shattered the fragile calm of the room. It was your voice, but not the cheerful, soothing tones he was used to. No, this was something far more harrowing. It was a desperate cry, a soul-wrenching scream that cut through the silence with a visceral, agonizing intensity. The sheer pain in your voice twisted his insides, making him feel as though his heart was being torn apart.

His ears twitched uncontrollably as he followed the sound, his steps becoming erratic and frantic. Each groan, each whimper, seemed to resonate with a chilling echo down the empty corridors. It was a haunting, relentless reminder of the suffering you were enduring. When he finally reached the source, he was met with a sight that stole the breath from his lungs. There you were, writhing in unimaginable pain, a tormented silhouette against the wall, your body contorted as if it were being torn apart from the inside.

Sebastian's vision blurred, and he felt a deep, gut-wrenching sorrow clawing at him. His mind raced back to the harsh truth he had desperately tried to suppress. He had known this day might come, had seen the ominous warnings in your medical file, but he had held onto a fragile hope—a hope that maybe, just maybe, things wouldn’t turn out this way. The file had warned him: your body was rejecting the sea bunny DNA.

The brutal irony of it all struck him with the force of a physical blow. All those scavenging trips, all the time he spent gathering trinkets and comforts for you, now seemed like a cruel, pointless exercise. The pillow he had so eagerly picked out for you, an innocent symbol of his affection, now felt like a mockery of your suffering.

As he reached out to you, the sight of your anguish was more than he could bear. It was as if his heart was being shredded with each cry of pain that escaped you. The agonizing truth was undeniable: you were slipping away from him, and no amount of love, no matter how fiercely he gave it, could alter the cruel fate that was unfolding.

Tears streamed down his face as he just stared at you, the pillow he had hoped would bring you comfort now a stark reminder of his helplessness. The realization that he was losing you, that he had to watch you suffer with nothing he could do to alleviate your pain, left him paralyzed with a sorrow so profound it seemed to stretch on endlessly.

He had been aware from the start that your time together was limited, but the crushing weight of that reality was more devastating than he had ever imagined. Seeing you in such excruciating agony, coupled with the crushing despair that his efforts to provide you comfort could not change the inevitable, left him feeling utterly and irrevocably shattered.

The thing that must have pained him the most was the cruel illusion he had woven around you. From the very beginning, you had been blissfully unaware of the full extent of your condition, shielded from the grim reality that had been kept from you. Urbanshade had long marked you as a lost cause, a waste of resources. They had kept you alive with medication, but the moment the lockdown had sealed off your lifeline, your fate had been sealed.

And it was Sebastian Solace, with a heavy heart and trembling hands, who had become the unwilling cause of your cruel reality. He had rescued you from the clutches of Urbanshade, pulling you into his life and making you live in these bittersweet conditions. He kept you at his side, sheltered you from the harsh truth, knowing full well that you were slowly, agonizingly, slipping away. He watched as your body rejected the very essence that made you unique, watched as the vibrant spirit he had fallen in love with was gradually consumed by pain.

The agony of it all was compounded by the facade he had maintained. To you, he was a beacon of love and stability, the one who had given you a new home, a new life. He had filled your days with small joys, with gifts and affection, all while knowing that each moment with you was a stolen fragment of time, a fleeting respite before the inevitable. He loved you too much to shatter the fragile world you had come to depend on, too much to burden you with the unbearable truth of your condition.

Every smile he saw on your face, every look of contentment in your eyes, was a dagger to his heart. The pain of watching you suffer, coupled with the torment of knowing he had to perpetuate the lie to keep you at peace, was a weight he carried in silence. He had given you comfort, affection, and a semblance of normalcy, all while knowing that it was a temporary reprieve from a fate that he could not alter.

The most excruciating part was the knowledge that you had been kept in the dark, living out your final days with an illusion of safety and love. He had chosen to be your protector and your companion, even as he knew that every moment he spent with you was tainted by the reality of your suffering. And in the end, the pain of watching you slowly succumb to your condition, while desperately trying to shield you from the truth, was a torment more profound than he could ever articulate.

Sebastian Solace set you free, on the one way or another.

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The First Date | Chapter Three

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

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

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

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 7.7k

Requested: No | Yes

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

A Few Quick Notes:

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

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

📌 Requests: Open

Author’s Note:

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

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

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

Let me know what you think! 💛✨

Taglist: @wickedfun9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley saw it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Island,” she agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley tilted her head. “For what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“On what?” she challenged softly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley appreciated that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sunday morning," Joe replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley nodded, oddly breathless. “I will.”

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

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

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

She looked back, questioning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riley smiled, her fingers typing a quick response.

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

His reply came almost immediately.

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

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

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

[lexsssu]

Inhuman (Adrian Tepes | Alucard)

TAGS: Alucard/Dragoness!reader, alternate universe, pining, sex pollen, morning after, breeding, impregnation, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Darkness is something many feared for it brought about horrors both real and imaginary to life. The cover of night hid that which screeched at the light of day and yet there is a certain stillness and calm found in the dark.

Adrian never felt that the dark was something to be afraid of, but rather a hidden peace and tranquility when one decides to walk about during the twilight hours.

All is still until a flash of bright light illuminated the landscape, revealing everything which once hid within the blanket of night for barely a second before gradually fading away.

Normally, the dhampir would have chalked it up as yet another one of nature’s great mysteries before trying to see for himself what caused it. Blame his loving parents who naturally nurtured his inquisitive nature.

However, before he could even step another foot forward he saw something falling from the sky and as it got closer to the ground, his eyes perceived an unmistakably human form.

He didn’t need to think for another second as his body rocketed upwards in a great leap, lean yet toned arms grasping the surprisingly soft and tiny figure. As the air whipped around him during his descent, he took his first good look as to who or what he decided to save in the first place.

The blonde’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat as he beheld what could only be an angel, a being of pure light within his embrace.

Your silken ivory hair crowns your head and drapes over your heart-shaped face gracefully, petal-like lips which gleamed with a soft pink sheen, eyelashes like lush crescents that seem to teasingly hide what he could only imagine to be the most beautiful jeweled orbs in the world, and a spattering of silvery-white scales that travel from said cheeks down to your neck and the rest of your body hidden beneath your bodice.

You are clearly inhuman.

And yet, never has Adrian felt more human than he did right now especially as your eyes flutter open and meet with his own mesmerized pair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...make sure to grind them thoroughly, my dear. They have to be a fine paste before we can proceed with the next step”

“Okay, Miss Lisa. I’ll do my best!”

“Feel free to just call me mother. I’ve seen you as a daughter from the moment my son brought you into our home and since my husband hasn’t given me any daughters...you’re the next best thing and I honestly couldn’t be any more grateful for your arrival in our lives.”

Hidden behind a tall shelf lined with various tomes and scrolls, the young man couldn’t help but take peeks at the two most important women in his life as they bonded with one another. His mother so easily took you under her wing when he brought you here and you weren’t averse to the motherly affections she directed at you.

Now if he could only be as forthright with his feelings as his mother and express himself to you, because you were clearly as dense as a rock and didn’t pick up any of the subtle hints he gave you about his intentions...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If you’re really okay with someone like me...then please use me as much as you like,” with a red blush highlighting your soft cheeks, you try not to look at the flushed and heavily panting Adrian pinning you down upon his bed.

The dhampir had accidentally inhaled the pollen of some new plant you both came across while partaking in your regular walks together. It took effect immediately, the normally calm and composed blonde becoming so flustered and heated that you’d think he was running a fever with how much sweat dripped down his face.

The raging erection which tented at the front of his trousers told you everything you needed to know, however.

Even if it was only to help him, you don’t regret giving yourself to Adrian because you love him. Even after the effects wear off, you hope that you’ll still stay friends because you’ve grown to love this castle and all its wonders. But especially its inhabitants—

“While I would have preferred to put a ring on you first, I’m afraid that I’m at my limit...but I promise to properly wed you after this, my love.”

The night is a blur by the time you wake up the morning after. Hazy memories of soft and firm touches, wet and deep kisses, harsh grunts and pitiful mewls, and nails scratching against the skin of his toned back as your tight cunt is forced open by his lengthy cock. You don’t remember how many rounds you went last night, having lost count of the amount of times you felt him spraying his seed deep inside of you and how you oh so shamelessly tightened even further each time he painted your walls white.

“We must inform mother and father once they return from their little trip. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled at the news of our union...though perhaps I might be scolded for taking you to bed before the actual wedding…” Adrian chuckled, messy strands of blonde hair tumbling down his chest as he gazed down at you with his head propped up by his hand, all the while you seemed to have been using his chest as a pillow the whole time you were sleeping.

“A-Adrian…!” You squeak and sputter at his joke, blushing all the way to the tips of your ears which only seems to ignite the flames within the dhampir once more as he rolls himself on top of you.

“If you truly insist on seducing me yet again...I suppose it is simply a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife”

[kassian-ck]

Since we're all gonna die (Cobra Kai s6 p3 coming out soon), I feel like there's one more secret I have to share with you.

I do not want Miguel to become captain of Cobra Kai and win the sekai taikai. Nor for Johnny to get Cobra Kai back.

Do not like it, do not like the way leaks presume they're going to get it. And much less that Robby is honestly going the get the short end of the stick again by getting a career changing injury especially after the 8 minute leak that came out. I'm a sucker for stories that highlight how life doesn't go as expected including lifelong dreams, but I think Robby has had enough of that bro 😭 I've seen pretty much everyone voice their distaste in this part, but I haven't seen much about Miguel so you know me 🫶

So for me, this is not something that favors Miguel as a character at all. Becoming a replacement for a spot that he likely didn't do anything to earn I think completely diminishes the effort he put into trying to become captain in the first place. Who knows how it may happen when my guess is that Yoon will take Kwon's place, kinda tricky to take the spot of a dead kid too imo. Cobra Kai has impacted Miguel in more ways than just a shift in his attitude and idealogy. It's easily part of the reason why he experienced a near-death experience in the first place. So for him to return to a dojo that literally changed his life for the worst, alongside the guy that has audibly said that Cobra Kai will always be tainted by Kreese's legacy is such a nasty character assassination for both Miguel and Johnny. Miguel doesn't need to be captain to be on top and to succeed. The way that he's become Robby's right hand man after everything they've gone through is too good to be taken away man, come on.

EDIT: I be always posting without finishing my thoughts man istg. But wanting to add about Robby — If the writers are trying to have Robby's arc be that he defeats all odds even after everything he's gone through, giving him another injury is not the way to send that message. It would genuinely be much more powerful if they allow Robby to keep the captaincy he won fair and square and show him succeed after feeling like everything in his life was against him. It doesn't have to be everything he has left, but it could show that somebody's past does not define their future. It's the absolute conclusion of his series-long arc, and I think there's no better way of doing him justice than giving him a win on the top after starting from rock bottom.

I have a TINY amount of faith that they have been playing with us all this time and everyone will actually stay in Miyagi Do, giving both Robby and Miguel the ending they deserve and have Tory ACTUALLY fight along side everyone finally, but at this point, I can't expect anything else. At least it doesn't seem that Sam actually quits karate forever and becomes just a cheerleader on the sidelines.

Maybe.

(I know I criticize the show a lot but I'm gonna miss it a lot 🤧)

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: Family Man

Chapter 3: Balancing Acts

The years following Marshall's Oscar win were a whirlwind of tours, studio sessions, and public appearances. Eminem was at the height of his career, a global icon whose music transcended genres and generations. Yet, amidst the chaos of fame, his life with you remained his anchor—a testament to the power of love and the importance of balance.

Marshall was no stranger to the darker sides of fame. The relentless scrutiny, the invasive paparazzi, and the constant pressure to outperform himself could have easily led him down a destructive path. But with your steadying presence, he managed to navigate the minefield of celebrity without losing himself.

Your home life was a stark contrast to the public persona Marshall projected as Eminem. Within the walls of your suburban Detroit house, he was simply Marshall—the husband, the father, the man who loved nothing more than spending quiet evenings with his family. You made sure that home was a sanctuary, a place where you could escape the noise and just be.

"Hailie, can you help your dad with the groceries?" You called from the kitchen one sunny afternoon, the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air.

"Coming, Mom!" Hailie replied, bounding down the stairs with the energy of an eight-year-old.

Marshall smiled, watching his daughter grab a bag and follow him into the kitchen. These were the moments he cherished—the simple, everyday acts of family life that reminded him of what truly mattered.

Despite his fame, you and Marshall worked hard to ensure that their children had as normal an upbringing as possible. You shielded Hailie and her younger siblings, Alaina and Whitney, from the harsh glare of the spotlight, emphasizing the importance of humility and kindness.

You, having pursued your dream of becoming a teacher, now worked part-time at a local elementary school. You found joy in your work, knowing you were making a difference in the lives of your students. Your dedication to your family and career was a source of inspiration for Marshall, who often credited you as his greatest influence.

"I don’t know how you do it," he told you one night as they sat on the porch, the kids asleep inside. "You balance everything so effortlessly."

You laughed softly, leaning into him. "It’s not effortless, trust me. But we’re a team, Marshall. We support each other, and that makes all the difference."

As Marshall continued to dominate the music industry, he found himself drawn to projects that allowed him to explore new creative avenues. In 2005, he took a brief hiatus from music to focus on his family and mental health. It was a decision that raised eyebrows in the media, but for Marshall, it was a necessary step to maintain the balance the two of you had worked so hard to achieve.

During this time, the two of you devoted yourselves to philanthropy, launching the Marshall Mathers Foundation, which focused on helping disadvantaged youth in Detroit. It was a cause close to your hearts, a way to give back to the community that had shaped your lives.

The media often marveled at how Marshall had avoided the pitfalls that had ensnared so many of his peers. His relationship with you was frequently highlighted as a rare success story in an industry notorious for failed marriages and fleeting romances.

In 2009, Marshall made a triumphant return to music with the release of *Relapse*, an album that delved into themes of addiction, recovery, and redemption. Though he had never succumbed to the depths of addiction, he had witnessed its effects on those around him and used his platform to raise awareness.

You stood by him through it all, offering her unwavering support as he poured his soul into his music. "Your honesty is what makes you great," you told him. "People connect with you because you’re real."

Your bond only grew stronger with time, each year bringing new challenges but also new joys. You celebrated their 15th wedding anniversary with a quiet getaway, reflecting on the journey they had shared and the future that lay ahead.

As Marshall prepared for another world tour, both of you sat down for a rare joint interview, something you had always been cautious about. You wanted to share your story, to show the world that a healthy, enduring love was possible even in the most extraordinary circumstances.

"What’s the secret to your long-lasting marriage?" the interviewer asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

You smiled, glancing at Marshall. "It’s not about secrets. It’s about honesty, communication, and never taking each other for granted. We’ve grown together, faced our challenges head-on, and always prioritized our family."

Marshall nodded in agreement. "Y/N’s been my rock. She’s kept me grounded, reminded me of what’s important. We’ve built a life based on trust and mutual respect, and that’s what’s kept us strong."

As the interview wrapped up, the couple shared a quiet moment, the love between them palpable. For Marshall, life with you was his greatest achievement—a love that had given him the strength to conquer the world while staying true to himself.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Can you do Alastor with an INFP reader please?

Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Turning this in to a mini series for my MBTI peoples

INFP (Mediator) Reader:

Alastor was confused by your head in the clouds personality. He found it odd that you were so attached to small objects or would hum a tune that brought a smile to your face. Being sensitive and easily startled was so weak in his eyes.

However, he enjoyed this weakness in you as well, the feeling he got when you sought protection from him. When you would be frightened or down, seeking him out swells his heart with a sense of pride that he has the sweet creative you needing him.

Your strong, empathetic nature scares him, as he can't open up well, yet you make it so easy. The way you can understand and mold your mind around the atrocities in his head baffles him but also excites him.

Alastor slowly becomes your biggest supporter. No matter what you choose as your passion, he is there cheering you on. When your head is in the clouds, he often pulls you down and reminds you of the endless possibilities if you actually put yourself to work instead of thinking about it.

You are your own worst critic, and Alastor hates that. He loves any art or medium you use to express yourself. You may find it to be the worst you have ever done, yet he sees all of your stuff as a masterpiece for him. Due to your doubts, he makes it a point to highlight you in his life if he gets any chance.

Overall, you two have an odd relationship. He is cold and calculating while you are up in the clouds daydreaming. Yet these polar opposites might work better than you two know since you can balance one another.

ESFP (Entertainer) Reader:

Your personality is intoxicating to Alastor. You have the silver tongue and pizzazz to have anyone listen to every word falling off your lips. You put on better shows than even he did, and that was admirable.

You have a keen eye for fashion, and you are the highlight of any event you go to, even if it is just out on the town. This is addicting to Alastor. He loves your style and will even seek your advice when it is time to pick out a new tux.

Your wit and charm come at a price, though. Sometimes, you outshine the Radio Host, making him worry about your health and well-being. Vox taking notice of you is a big no-no unless you are teasing and tormenting Vox with him.

Alastor dislikes your spending habits: flashy clubs, large bottles of booze, and brand-new clothes every week. It can get taxing, reminding you that you need to slow down and look at the bigger picture. Yet he can't help but fall for your words and spoil you, too.

Your lack of focus and commitment sometimes leaves the man irate as well, yet your ability to turn anything spontaneous in to an advantage has its perks. Just give him a heads up before you do anything too crazy and he can over look it.

Overall, you two are similar enough that, at times, it can hurt. Yet your ability to dazzle a room and potential new victims leaves you both at the top of the food chain. Just remember to pamper the poor deer so he knows he's important, too.

ENFJ (Protagonist) Reader:

It takes Alastor a long time to warm up to you. You give off goodie two-shoe vibes; let me help you wondering traveler vibes. He isn't a fan of that, seeing as he likes to do things in his sick and sadistic ways.

If you can crack his shell, though, he is thrilled at how meticulous and straightforward you are. He enjoys how you always have a plan and seem to take some of the responsibility of knowing everything off his hands.

When the battle for the hotel approached, you were one of the inspiring voices in the crowd. You managed to help get the whole team up and going when fighting off Adam. Yet you also managed to eat under his skin with the one-for-all-all-for-one crap.

If Alastor opens up to you, though, your go-getting attitude of figuring out how to help him with his plight is thrilling. When you speak of ending his contract, he is nothing but accepting and excited to see what you are capable of.

Your intensity is really overwhelming. You are just a powerhouse bulldozing through all his plans and ideas. However, you also give him the courage at times to stand up for what is right, allowing him to grow as a person.

Overall, you two are similar just as much as you are opposite. Alastor is an altruistic companion, whereas you are altruistic all the time. Things might work out if you can tone down your self-sacrificing persona.

ISFP (Adventurer) Reader:

You are a rare one indeed in Alastors' mind. You mind your own business and find yourself deep in the thralls of whatever magnificent work you have planned. You only bug him when it is truly insightful or helpful, allowing him to grow an appreciation for you.

Your inability to keep up with time, though, was just as frustrating as it was hilarious. Watching dear Charlie freak out that you were missing, only for you to appear out of nowhere following a bug, was entertaining. Yet he hated when you kept him waiting; he was an important man.

Alastor was startled when he found you hiding in his radio tower. It was just after an extensive bonding exercise, too, yet you were tinkering away in a corner. He startled you when he found you, finding it adorable how you begged for just ten minutes of quiet.

Alastor's Radio Tower would become your refuge for hiding from Charlie's crazy ideas and recharging. Alastor found your intelligent conversation and carefree attitude about his job refreshing. He truly enjoyed your little hiding days in his office.

When you get down on yourself because of lost motivation or even having an empty social battery, he is always there to help. He hates when you start having low self-esteem, but he does assist you as much as he can in rebuilding it.

Overall, your carefree and quiet demeanor is nice to Alastor. You pose no threat, and you definitely help lighten the air. Be mindful of overworking yourself, and maybe get a To-Do list or two so you stop being so hard on yourself.

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

Day 3 — Poppy ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @olba-week-event

MC: Ai/Sky

I wasn't actually going to do day 3 because I couldn't come up with an idea that didn't have Cove in the spotlight 😂 but inspiration hit me at the last minute so this one was a bit of a rush job, my apologies. On the plus side, Ai's little sailor onsie will forever give me life so that was a delight to work on. She had huge aspirations to become one when she was a kid - always wanted to be on a ship and had a lot of sailor themed things in her room (even tried to stow away on a ship once and actually succeeded, but only for a day before someone found her out LOL, the moms were not pleased). As you can guess though, meeting Mr. Shark-man Holden and his sea themed son was the highlight of her youth 🤣 she's had many long and very serious conversations with Cliff about buying a boat. She used her serious voice and her serious face and everything! Cliff could barely resist! He almost caved when Cove came in for back up but the moms brought up the stow away story and that sobered him up pretty damn quick LMAO Now, on a more personal moment here. My stepdad likes to retell this story of how we first met, whenever he's in an emotional enough mood 😂 I was a very impulsive kid (putting it mildly) and I didn't know him at all but, despite that, the first thing I did was run right up to him and hug him around the legs and say "Hello!" with my big smile and he had no idea what to do because he was used to people not being like that with him at all. Yet there I was, already liking him, not knowing how big of an impact that was going to have on him. He retells this story maybe once or twice a year and there's just something so genuinely soft and sweet about watching a 50 odd year old man still get moved to tears, years later, as he says "You chose me." like it still baffles him even now - especially when you know he's the type of man that doesn't rely on support or comfort from other people, but takes that comfort from you - the child he chose too.

Cliff feels like he's that type of man to me, tbh 💖 Maybe it's because I understand his background so easily or because he's always doing things that I recognise as responses to that background, but he reminds me a lot of my stepdad and a lot of myself too honestly. So, a big big Big part of me just loves the idea of this stubborn, independent, self made man who is always putting the comfort and happiness of others as his top priority also getting so damn emotional when he gets to sit down and do normal happy family things with the kids that love him so dearly as well. Like, I just want this man to look around at the people in his life and know, deep in his heart and soul, that they want him to be there 🥺 maybe his parents didn't, but they just missed out on everything that he had to offer honestly. The family he has now knows his value and it's not in what he's willing to do, but simply in him being who he is. That's worthy of love.

Anyways 😂 I could probably ramble on about Mr. Cliff Holden for hours if I'm not careful. So, I'll just leave this here and continue loving my two ocean boys unconditionally, as they deserve! 💖

[bambimeadows]

*spoilers afoot and long probably nonsensical musings regarding the Manfred-Lichdom thing*

Had a tough time deciding on the Manfred/Lichdom ultimatum with Emmrich but after experiencing both options I think it’s pretty clear which choice at the very least feels more natural and right.

When you choose Lichdom (which was the option I went with at first after spending 5 minutes staring at my tv in despair I know I’m sorry) Emmrich comes across as something that doesn’t suit him. Self important and righteous, over explaining his decision in a way that almost makes it seem like he’s trying to cope because he knows he didn’t do the right thing, rather gave into his self indulgence. Almost kind of bratty and petulant. It’s actually kind of awkward to watch. When he presented himself to everyone in his lichdom form and they were just like “…okay?” I think making him appear as this petty, vapid man in that scene was a way of communicating certain (accurate) troupes of self serving men who throw away their morals, compassion and humanity for the sake of gaining more power and fulfilling their deepest desires. And don’t even get me started on that dialogue between him and Spite if we chose the path to not save Manfred “He should be here” haunted me and was enough to make me go back to the previous save after a few hours and pick the other option just to see what that would entail.

When you go with saving Manfred however, this feels smoother, more attuned with his character. The humility of throwing away his ultimate end goal in favour of finding joy and peace with his dear friend excelling and developing is really very very sweet. Their bond is beautiful and adorable in such an authentic way. There’s a lot of purity in it and I think it really attributes to his character. An endearing-ness that is not so easily captured in any media, let alone in video games. And let’s face it, it’s always going to more interesting to watch a character face their fears rather than seek comfort for themselves.

It’s a shame however, as the concept of Lichdom is a fascinating one. The idea of sweet gentle Emmrich becoming that is so intriguing to explore. The circumstances of being in a romance with Emmrich in that state is such an ingenious take on gothic romance. I and I’m sure many others grew to adore him and just want him to be happy and get everything he wants, but as in real life, that’s seldom possible. But I think all of this is the point in making us chose between those two options and reflects Emmrich’s own internal conflict. So I applaud the writers of this game, despite all the heinous feedback they’ve gotten, for throwing us a real, complex moral dilemma. They knew Manfred was adorable and we’d all fall in love with him, they also knew many of us would fall in love with Emmrich. They highlighted the timeless truth that, no, you cannot have everything you want without sacrifice, your most selfish desires will usually come at a cost. Putting yourself first will not usually feel right when it’s at the detriment of innocents and you’ll find helping others, especially those you love, can bring you a unique happiness and peace that chasing your own selfish desires could never. And what’s more saving Manfred was shown to be so fruitful. It would be good even if he returned to how he was before, but there was so much payoff for everyone to helping him in the end and I think that’s the main take away here. He was able to develop and flourish when we just showed a little bit of compassion and followed our heart instead of cold logic, Emmrich’s sacrifice was very very much not without reward.

I really do love Emmrich either way, and I plan to explore every possible piece of this game that he is involved in. He’s the best character I’ve seen for a very long time, no matter how we chose to shape his journey.

[frankenwolf1564]

Comic Edition Emirate Xaaron and Autobot Flame: A Marvelous match

Coming at us in a blast from the past, we have two massive nobodies from UK Marvel G1, Generations Comic Edition Emirate Xaaron and (Autobot) Flame!

Starting with the real highlight of this set, Xaaron takes center stage, cast primarily in a light gold with some painted darker gold highlights and a bit of black shading, to make it look as though he came right off the comic page. His joints are cast in an off white, and his thighs are painted silver, which helps bridge the gap between the metallic and matte finishes. His head pops out in that same pale tone, with some small touches of black to highlight his facial features. Xaaron’s overall look is based roughly on G1 Megatron, though he omits the gun mode kibble that would become the classic bucket head to show off that crown crest. It’s paired with a weird iron man mouth that spawned from the confinements of the drawn page, creating a unique head design and a very nice-looking robot, simply. I’m utterly enamored with Xaaron and how he looks. I’m also a fan of the comic shading, a rather divisive aspect of the Comic Edition subline. I think it adds a nice dynamic element to the figures and just looks nice.

Now, while Xaaron was based off Megatron, do not be mistaken, this is no retool of the Decepticon despot. Any modern Megatron would have been both too big and too imposing to sufficiently serve as Xaaron, but Siege Refraktor lets him keep the same form factor in a suitably smaller stature. It’s also boxy and generic enough to make for a smooth transition to other characters. This is evidenced by the only new parts on the main figure being the chest piece and the head, everything else merely getting color swapped. That’s not the whole package however! Xaaron comes equipped with a small slew of additional, purely optional parts to give him a slightly more “traditional” Transformers look, giving you some hint towards what his alt mode might be. He gets a pair of tank treads, intended for his legs, and a cannon alongside the accompanying turret mount to peg wherever you please. They shake up his profile, pulling your eyes down a bit more and making him that touch less blocky.

A fun little tidbit, plus some context for why Xaaron is designed the way he is, he never transformed in the comics. It was briefly teased in his showdown with Flame, on which this set is based, but since it’s been so long since he’d last done it, he was worried the act might kill him. Now that’s all fine and dandy for a character in a comic book! It adds an interesting layer to the conflicts presented, and it’s not like characters from comic books have never gotten toys before. Problem though, this is the Transformers toyline. So, (according to the wonderful Sixo, who revealed this set and this info) the designers went with a simple mold that they could easily add a partsforming element to, letting you have both a comic accurate robot mode and an alternate mode. The extra pieces are even explained as, effectively, combat armor, so he doesn’t kill himself getting ready for battle. And idk I think it’s neat I like when things have explanations.

The actual transformation sure is Siege Refraktor. Too bad that wasn’t the most groundbreaking toy. The hands tuck away, the arms fold back, the waist swivels and the legs turn outwards. Waow. The new tank pieces do a lot for the look, though that’s turning an indiscriminate “space vehicle” into a slightly less indiscriminate space vehicle. I’m not sure if it’s just my copy but I struggle to get the cockpit piece that folds out from the chest to tab securely into the legs. It is also a new piece, which might have an impact, but it’s also only very slightly different. It doesn’t really matter, but still.

Of course, what would a hero be without a villain? That’s where Flame comes in, looking delightfully menacing and twisting what should be a normally nominal Autobot color scheme into something far more sinister. One upping Xaaron by being this sets Megatron retool, specifically the SSGE WFC mold, Flame wears the bulky, brutish shapes of the Decepticon leader in much the same manner, but the new parts help set him apart. That said, his arms stick out a bit, the completely bare plastic and slightly higher amount of mechanical detail compared to the likes of his shins clashing with the rest of the figure.

He poses quite nicely, looking suitable malicious the way only a deranged scientist can, though some of his joints are just. Weird. His elbows don’t bend smoothly, both sets having an unfortunate tendency to jump between positions, though this has lessened a bit with time. His legs are even worse in this regard. The knees have tabs in the front and back of the leg that effectively act as a single big ratchet, giving you a whopping two options of bent and straight. What’s weirder is that if you go past them, the knee does rotate smoothly and tightly, but you’ll only have room for that when you’re transforming him thanks to the big tab in the back. It’s an absolutely bizarre design choice that is no more welcome here than it was on Megatron. Thankfully you can snip them off with zero concern, something I’ve done on my copy. Even if you do keep him stock, he’s still quite expressive, and naturally looks intimidating. My only other major gripe is that his ankle tilt is a bit limited. Like yeah a wrist swivel would be nice but you don’t need it-

The transformation is rather fun! Nothing changes from Megatron, but the way his arms go over his back and under his chest is clever, and it feels great to close his legs over everything like one big clamshell. I have no other notes it’s just a good toy.

This is a great set, and Xaaron is actually my favorite part of it? He’s unbelievably charming. His natural stature gives off a big energy of “I am not built for this” and a constant vibe of “oh god damn it not again”. I love him. Flame’s still plenty fun! I’m just not as enamored with him. The best part of this set though is what it represents. Transformers is a massive franchise, with a lot of characters and some deep, deep cuts that have formed over 40 years. There are plenty of obscure nobodies. Now while Xaaron did feature fairly prominently in the UK Marvel comic, and even showed up in the later stages of the American run, he’s not exactly the face of the franchise. I’d say it’s a safe bet most people have absolutely no idea who he is. Yet despite that, despite not even having an alt mode, he was still able to get a toy! Flame as well. So many enormous dorks have showed up in figure form this year alone, and I hope it’s a trend the current team continues throughout the next ten years, whatever those may look like!

[spider-mandaily]

Daredevil (2019) #5

The scene between Daredevil and Spider-Man here is undeniably the highlight of this issue, showcasing their complex dynamic in a way that’s both striking and emotionally intense. Spider-Man’s usual goofiness and Daredevil’s perpetual annoyance with him are on full display, but what really stands out here is the way the two characters’ personalities play off each other. Spider-Man, with his unshakable optimism, remains committed to superheroing with a sense of responsibility that comes across as both earnest and sometimes overwhelming. On the other hand, Daredevil’s cynicism and the weight of his past are taking their toll, and it becomes clearer that he’s questioning whether he can continue his life as a hero.

What’s fascinating about this exchange is how it highlights the deep respect Daredevil holds for Spider-Man, despite his outwardly gruff demeanor. Spider-Man's carefree nature doesn’t diminish his importance to Matt Murdock—if anything, it only underscores the gravity of Matt’s inner conflict. Daredevil has spent so much of his life fighting for justice in a world that feels more and more hopeless, and here we see him at his breaking point, confronting the emotional burden of his choices.

Marco Checchetto handles the scene beautifully, particularly toward the issue’s end, where Daredevil and Spider-Man have a candid, yet poignant moment. The dialogue is sharp, but what truly adds depth is the silent reaction from Matt as he processes everything that’s been happening. The way the artist conveys Matt’s turmoil without words—the anguish in his eyes, the weight of the moment—is a testament to how art can elevate a scene.

When Spider-Man confronts Daredevil, it’s clear that he’s trying to reach Matt, pulling him out of the dark space he’s in. But the complexity of Daredevil’s situation isn’t so easily solved, and Spider-Man’s words seem almost like an echo in Matt’s mind, bringing him face-to-face with the harsh reality of his decisions. It’s in these moments, through their back-and-forth and the unspoken understanding between them, that we begin to feel the shift in Daredevil’s character. This confrontation doesn’t just symbolize their differences as heroes—it’s a pivotal point for Matt, where he must grapple with the idea of stepping away from being a hero, and perhaps finally acknowledging that the fight has taken its toll on him.

This issue doesn’t just portray a clash of personalities, but an emotional reckoning for both characters. Spider-Man’s optimism is a stark contrast to Daredevil’s world-weary realism, and in their confrontation, we see both the hope and the despair that come with the burden of being a hero. It’s a raw, real moment that makes you question whether Daredevil can keep going, and whether Spider-Man’s words have the power to save him—or if it’s already too late for Matt. - Another reason why I think Spider-Man is the greatest hero of all time!

[rei-ismyname]

HOUSE OF XCII Highlights

Towards the end of Krakoa the novel idea of a mini speed running the era in X-Men 92/TAS-style came together and it was pretty fun. Krakoa was full of characters that just didn't exist in 92 (or were dead, so some fancy footwork was required to dunk it in nostalgia while maintaining continuity and entertaining.

Assault on the Master Mold

These 90s mutants were wise enough to bring Magneto on the Mother Mold assault, and after everyone dies he easily crushes the base into nothing. Seriously, just send him in first. This base was actually a bunch of X-Men enemies like Trask and Wolverine spent too long quipping at him to prevent him pressing a single button - activating the ORCHIS protocols.

The Five resurrect folks with clothes on! Makes sense - 92 was way less horny than Krakoa (and was a children's cartoon.) Chuck is lying here. MotherMold destroyed, but they really needed to stop that button being pressed. How do they know about ORCHIS?

Everyone's fave mallrat

This lady. Jubilee has Moira's resurrective immortality abilities and she's hiding in a metal shack in a very public space on Krakoa. Her secret of not being dead etc will surely be uncovered soon. Also, Logan is literally standing outside it sniffing. Send him to stab a single feeble middle-aged man and he's useless, but he will sniff out your secrets just for kicks. Anyway, Moira Jubilee is pissed off at the helmet bros for Logan's blunder.

RADICAL! I like these data pages for how much work they do and the cowabunga style. I feel sorry for The Five having to work with Fabian Cortez though. These jokes are awful too.

If you kill your enemies, they stop being a problem.

X of Swords is recognisable but is over quickly. Arkon is the provocateur but Genesis here cuts his head off and reveals it was all her doing. To test Krakoa or something. She looks ridiculous. Just don't think about how much of Apocalypse's physicality is due to Celestial enhancements and what Genesis looking identical implies.

Ayyy, Polaris' hair is green!

Beast was one of the folks that died in X of Swords, and the Otherworld caveat applies to resurrection plus they become evil and immune to telepathy. Dark Beast comes back and highjacks all Sinister's schemes. Also, the first X-Men vote happens at the gala! I think that's Sunfire.

Yeah let's dig up Cody. See what that MF has to say.

Okay yeah there's confirmation. There's a lot of Easter eggs in 92, most of which are funny. Revealing what Logan is pissed off about would spoil the twist, but he's being a possessive dick over Jean. Scott is like 'she is a big girl who can make her own choices.' Sabertooth is doing his best to ruin everything.

They have Nimrod issues here too. I got a kick out of the setup wizard.

The coward dog Logan

Hard to believe this bunch of losers could cause Krakoa trouble, but you know the saying 'the X-Men always lose.'

The Inner Circle is the Quiet Council and this is their mixtape. Achy Breaky Heart? Come on! All in all it's a pretty funny mini. Definitely worth a read. The beats from the First Krakoan Age are all there but remixed into something a little different.

[familyagrestefanblog]

I know I posted about that already, but the way the special pushes the narrative that Gabriel Agreste would have lived if it wasn't for the wish is greatly bothering me.

Gabriel was minutes away from dying from the Cataclysm wound. The man would have died anyway and only a wish could have saved him which he didn't use for himself but for Nathalie.

The finale was NOT hiding that AT ALL and it was already annoying enough that Marinette seemingly didn't pay attention to Gabriel SAYING that he and Nathalie are about to die when she said they will find a way without a wish even if it's not perfect.

"Perfect" wasn't the problem here. I still don't understand, did she just not LISTEN when Gabriel said that?? Cause that is still the only way her actions and behaviour make sense.

And that it makes sense that Marinette now thinks that Gabriel having killed himself through the wish is her fault.

But that doesn't make it true and I dislike that the special didn't include the truth whatsoever.

It already felt contrived as hell in the finale that it was made so CLEAR that Gabriel and Nathalie were done for without the wish, but Marinette was made to just not listen at all just for contrived conflict now of her blaming herself.

She extended the emptiest hand ive ever seen and it would now be fine enough if at least the narrative around Marinette were honest enough to not suddenly pretend like Marinette is right. They could have easily included that moment of Gabriel saying that he and Nathalie are about to die and Adrien will be alone through having Alix watch that moment alone so the AUDIENCE knows the truth and understands that Marinette is incorrectly placing that blame on herself cause she apparently just didn't pay attention, but fine!

That annoys me so much. That even the narrative is siding with Marinette now in hiding the truth and instead frames Marinette saying that she "tried everything. She tried reasoning with Gabriel, to find another way, but now Adrien's has no father anymore because of her" as a nobel and tragic truth instead of the incorrect desperate confusion that it is because we must always paint Marinette as a tragic saint over all else.

You could have still highlighted that Marinette thought she was genuinely extending a hand to him. That she didn't pay proper attention (somehow??) and truly thought Gabriel and Nathalie could have had been saved in another way.

You can still give her credit for that without lying to the audience that her words could have been an option. Because they weren't and that was made obvious.

There was no other way. No other "not so perfect solution". There was no time, Gabriel and Nathalie were as good as DEAD. Gabriel was already turning into dust right in front of Marinette's eyes.

Why is the special supporting Marinette's incorrect assumption that she was unfairly robbed of the chance to save Gabriel? There was no chance. GABRIEL knew that and SAID so.

I wouldn't be so bothered by it if the show had handled Marinette's misunderstanding this wrong in a better way than just having her become deaf and switch off her brain for her conversation with Gabriel to an aggravating degree.

Cause she wasn't listening. She wasn't THINKING. What she offered was wishful-thinking SHE preferred to be real in that moment that was rooted in nothing of the reality of their situation. No shit he venomed her and did the wish anyway. And I'm annoyed that the special couldn't respect the audience enough to make them aware of Marinette's misunderstanding because that wouldn't praise her enough I guess.

The truth was perfectly fine, you could have still given her credit that she may have gotten it wrong but she genuinely tried. But nah I guess. Why respect the audience when crediting Marinette something she didn't do makes her look even better? It's not like that makes her look WORSE now for people who don't just ignore what actually happened in the finale.

Same as Marinette claiming she was greatly insured and hurt in the finale. People are already acting as if that wasn't a complete lie just because it makes Marinette more pitiable. Just go with the truth for once Miraculous, you have enough tragedy to work with for Marinette.

[a-fluffer-nutter]

The Mechanist's Quest: Chapter 3

A/N - Hi! Short chapter today, but the next one will be much longer! I am writing that one now. The main delay (aside from working on my actual PhD like a good student) is needing time to listen to character voice lines lol. Chapter 2 was easy as I hear the Scottish accent every day and know their general lingo, I also speak French so Demo and Spy were easy to write for. I needed to listen to some of Engie's quotes because some of the things he says is vastly different than what we say in the American Deep South now and for Chapter 4, listening to Sniper...that man makes me feel things, holy shit. Anyways! Have Chapter 3!

Word Count: 1,102

BLU barely squeaked out the day's victory despite RED’s best efforts. Due to it being so close, the team wasn't too moody when they returned to the base, but it was clear that Engie was blaming himself, which he unfortunately had the recent tendency to do; and in this depressively angry stupor, the man completely ignored Pyro’s attempts to get his attention in the van on the way back to base.

            Knowing how frustrated and snappy the man could get; Pyro did not initially follow Engie into his workshop. Instead, Pyro went back toward their room and skimmed through their journal; wanting to make sure everything was clear enough for Engie to comprehend, all of Pyro’s research-based conclusions highlighted in bright yellow. Distractedly, Pyro also used the same highlighter to draw small stars in the corners of the pages, hoping the artistic décor would have a positive effect on Engie’s mood.

            Once approximately half an hour passed by, Pyro scooped up their journal and made their way toward Engie’s workshop. This trek was one Pyro had made hundreds of times since being hired by Mann Co. Having befriended Engie early on, this short jaunt between Pyro’s room and the workshop was second nature at this point, something Pyro could do with their eyes closed if they had to. The door to the workshop was even cracked open, the yellow work lights illuminating whatever Engie was working on resonated from behind the door, drawing Pyro in with its warmth and familiarity: a moth to a flame. Not needing to knock, Pyro stepped into the room to see Engie crouched down, screwdriver in hand.

            “Oh, Pyro,” Engie said after flashing his eyes over at the door, easily recognizing Pyro’s frame. “You alright, kid?”

            “Mhm,” Pyro mumbled, nodding quickly as they walked over to Engie’s current position in the room. Hand outstretched, Pyro gesticulated while gripping the journal tightly, the pink glitter on the cover sparkling in the light like a tiny disco ball.

            “Y’finish the project I set you out on?” eyes flicking up without moving his head, Engie snatched the book from Pyro’s gloved hand and hastily paged through it. Brows furrowing behind his goggles, Engie’s lips dropped into a perturbed frown before he stood up, rocking back onto his heels. “Now, this is cute and all, but this ain’t somethin’ I can work with. We’re tryin’ to win, y’know?”

            “Hmph,” letting out a long exhale through their nose, Pyro groaned before pointing eagerly at the page. Each touch becoming firmer than the last, Pyro mumbled excitedly.

            “Yes, I get that keepin’ ‘em alive is best case scenario, but there ain’t no way that this could incapacitate someone.”

            “Ugh,” Pyro’s frustration was both visible and audible as they quickly crossed their arms and stared at Engie. With another mumble, Pyro leaned over and picked up the screwdriver Engie had discarded in favor of the journal, before handing it back to their friend. Once the tool was in Engie’s hand, Pyro gestured to the sentry Engie had been working on.

            “I dunno how this’ll prove anythin’, but fine,” he replied, just wanting to appease Pyro so he could get back to his work in peace.

            Switching focus to the sentry before him that had sustained a heavy amount of damage during the last match, Engie inserted the screwdriver into the head of a screw and rotated it. As he did this, Pyro took a step so they were directly behind him, then knelt down. The second the screw popped out of its place and let out a “ping!” on the floor, Pyro struck.

            “H-hey,” was all Engie could let out before he clamped his jaw shut, biting his lip to assist the process. Arms shaking, Engie resisted the urge to clamp them down as Pyro’s fingers wiggled around the hollow of his arms. While choking back all noises, Engie didn’t even attempt to hold back the wobbly smile that instantly appeared the second Pyro’s fingers made contact with Engie’s sensitive spot. Allowing himself to take a long breath through his nose, Engie tried to push past the electrical sensation that was now traveling down his ribcage and switch tools.

            While Gunslinger remained still, the muscles through the rest of Engie’s arm twitched unevenly as his thumb rolled the wrench to the necessary width; Engie realized quickly that maybe Pyro had a point, though he was not going to admit this, as he was still able to do his job, albeit slower than usual. He figured he was doing a decent enough job ignoring Pyro as he loosened the top half of the sentry, placing it gently on the ground next to the black legged stand; though the second Pyro saw the delicately intricate part of the sentry was now safe on the floor, their hands dove in for the kill.

            “Fu-fuck!” Engie couldn’t help but swear as Pyro slipped their hands under his overalls and began to knead into the man’s soft belly. “God dammit. St-stop it.”

            “Nuh uh,” was the sound Engie could make out as Pyro’s mask was right by his ear.

            Falling backward, Pyro caught Engie and guided them both into a sitting position. Scooching him closer into a behind the back hug, Pyro smiled as Engie finally relinquished himself into his own laughter, unable to think of anything but the fingers clawing into his most ticklish spot.

            “Y’made ya point,” reaching for Pyro’s wrists, Engie’s head was thrown back against Pyro’s shoulder, his hard hat tipped forward so it concealed his face down to his nose. Luckily for Pyro, Engie’s wide smile remained visible as his loud whistling laugh melodiously filled Pyro’s ears. “Dammit, Firefly. Stop it!”

            Letting out a small laugh themself, Pyro ceased their attack, pulling back so Engie could double over himself, hugging his middle tightly as he sucked in air greedily. Once sufficiently recovered, Engie reached over to the journal sitting on the floor beside him. This time, with his full interest, Engie read through each of Pyro’s notes before looking back at them.

            “Yah really think this’ll work?”

            Pyro responded with a nod.

            “Alright then,” Engie hummed, eyes dancing over one of the two diagrams Pyro had drawn out, “now that yah know this’ll work on both Spy and the doc, I’ll start draftin’ up some blueprints and start building.”

            Letting out a pleased noise, Pyro excitedly hugged Engie before the man shot up to begin his first draft. Perching on a tall stool Engie had set aside for them, Pyro watched eagerly as the cogs in Engie’s head turned.

            It was time to work.