#stage in her life where she's not only testing out a relationship but a more americanized name

[uldren-sov]

You used to be so sweet | Now you're a firecracker on a crowded street Couldn't look away even if I wanted | Try to walk away but I come back to the start

(Was very lucky once again to comm the bestie @aevari tysm!!!) a NON-meme of these two??? it's more likely than you think it had to happen eventually have to keep everything in balance: a happy past with a not-so-happy present :)

✮Starring✮ Seven Lawless from @infamous-if and my OC, Camy Rose

[dreadark]

so why is Luka obsessed with Hyuna anyway?

(mostly just trying to get my thoughts on Luka down before blink gone rewires my brain)

every pet human is extremely limited in freedom, but Luka's case is definitely the worst literally even his birth was by Heperu's design... he can't control any aspect of his own life, from his participation of ALNST (twice!) to what he eats on a daily basis

*translations all by whatafruit

humans have no power over segyein, and Luka doesn't even have any power over own his own body so what can he have power over, then?

other humans, of course

most obvious in round 5: Luka would've had an easy win even if he barely tried, but he goes out of his way to provoke Mizi anyway until she finally snaps... and he smiles as he's beaten

because this is his "power." he successfully manipulated Mizi into reacting, proving he has some control over the situation no matter how pointless it is in the grand scheme of things, this is all he can influence, so he makes the absolute most of it and this control is so important to him he doesn't care about his own physical injuries

it's Hyuna talking in this comic, but clearly reflecting Luka's own mentality

while for Hyuna it's likely just her love for singing and performing (whatever happens, they can't take this away from her) for Luka I imagine it's the ability to influence others from the stage (crushing his opponents, but also shaping his fanbase?)

...so back to Luka -> Hyuna

it’s mentioned more than a few times that Hyuna’s a really talented performer, but seeing their respective stat pages really drives it in

(think the “superiority test” Hyuna was put through relates to this also)

Hyuna doesn't seem to have been created in any special way like Luka was… she just has a natural affinity to performing. and that's enough that she’s considered a real rival to Luka—Luka, who was literally made for this, and put through constant hellish training on top (the pain of having your heart stopped...) to mold him into the perfect idol

to Luka… if he can’t dominate Hyuna, he can't even take pride in his own ability (that everything he's forced to go through amounts to something?). and power over other humans is all he has, so he needs to overpower Hyuna (also he likely admires Hyuna’s talents at the same time, which just adds to his twisted feelings)

so since his ability isn't enough... by making someone think of you, only you… that’s another way of having power over someone, isn’t it

“your life is mine” “I told you I only wanted one thing”

whatever exactly happened with Hyunwoo… well that certainly worked. both removing Hyuna's most important person and making Luka someone she can't not think of (oh and he doesn't seem particularly interested in Hyunwoo despite how similar the siblings are in personality? Hyunwoo was even the first to approach Luka, not Hyuna so it's likely because he doesn't have his sister's talents)

but you know how his intimacy(?) value for her is only 70% I figure that's because she escaped, so they could never actually face off onstage... maybe he's disappointed in her "wasting" her ability

what all this amounts to is that she did end up escaping his control, and he never even got to compete against her. so until he can somehow completely overpower her, he'll be obsessed with her

I wonder if this represents his final effort to that... ultimately, he values control over his own well-being, so if he can goad Hyuna into killing him, then doesn't that cement his power over her?

and maybe "saves" him from this hellish life too

kind of a tangent, but I really like how their designs contrast this dynamic Luka looks really angelic and androgynous, so from appearance he seems fragile and like someone to be protected (which even Hyuna seemed to be tricked by when they were younger) and Hyuna obviously looks the stronger one in comparison (very #girlboss (lol...))

but their relationship is one where Luka's trying to control her and Hyuna's trying to escape it... that "beautiful lady" line of ruler of my heart always felt somewhat uncomfortable, and then learning it's actually pitiful (가련한) instead of beautiful is... ...it's a very gendered dynamic, if you get what I mean. despite their surface-level appearances going against what's considered typical

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | Making Space | Chapter 6

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 17.4k

Requested: No | Yes 

Warnings: Mild language, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, intimate moments, and that heart-wrenching feeling when you're thousands of miles apart but somehow closer than ever

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:

Distance has a way of crystallizing what matters. This chapter explores what happens in the aftermath of New Orleans—when color-coded calendars meet chaotic scheduling, when digital connections replace physical touch, and when the barrier between casual and significant starts to blur.

For Joe, it's the unsettling realization that he can't game-plan falling for someone. When a quarterback who's built his career on preparation and control suddenly finds himself refreshing his messages and calling from parking lots, something fundamental has shifted. The impersonal space he's carefully maintained suddenly feels empty without her chaos to fill it.

For Riley, it's navigating the weight of past relationships while trying not to repeat old patterns. It's about finding the balance between protecting herself and allowing this new connection room to breathe. When she instinctively keeps her birthday private, it's not about secrecy—it's about safeguarding something that feels too important to risk.

I wanted to capture that unique intimacy that grows in absence—how vulnerability sometimes flows easier through phone lines than in person. The way their connection deepens not just through desire, but through those quiet moments of honesty: Joe admitting he misses her, Riley sharing glimpses of her world in Italy, both of them realizing that "different worlds" might be exactly what they each need.

What happens when misunderstandings arise and boundaries are tested? When two people with fundamentally different approaches to life try to understand each other across oceans? This chapter explores these questions as Joe and Riley navigate not just distance, but the growing realization that whatever this is between them has quietly become vital.

The casual connection that began on Fallon's stage is evolving with every text, every call, every confession in the dark. And sometimes, it's the smallest gestures that reveal the most about where things truly stand.

Thank you all for your incredible comments on the last chapter! Each one fuels this story in ways you can't imagine. Your insights and reactions keep me going through every writing session.

I can't wait to hear what you think of this one! 🎵💫 Asks are open lets talk about this one.

Happy reading!

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508

Joe sat at his kitchen island, scrolling through his phone with a furrowed brow. His body was still warm from his morning workout, his protein shake half-finished beside him. The adrenaline from New Orleans hadn’t quite faded—nine days since Mardi Gras, and he still couldn’t shake the way the city had seeped into his bones. He’d spent those nine days trying to settle back into his routine, but his thoughts kept drifting to emerald walls, jazz clubs, and a parade float where he’d had more fun than he’d had in years.

His schedule for March was brutal—training, sponsor meetings, media obligations, barely a handful of unscheduled days. Every time he looked at it, frustration settled in his chest like a weight. Finding time to see Riley again felt like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces, each glance at his calendar only heightening his sense of disappointment.

He typed out a message. Deleted it. Typed again. Deleted again. Too eager. Too formal. Too... He took a breath and just sent it.

Joe: Hey, this might sound weirdly formal, but what's your email? I want to share my calendar with you so we can figure out when we can see each other next.

That was at 7:42 a.m. By noon, she still hadn't responded. Joe didn't take it personally—Riley was not a morning person, a fact she'd made abundantly clear multiple times. He smiled, remembering how she'd groaned dramatically and buried herself deeper under the covers when he'd suggested a 9 a.m. breakfast during Mardi Gras. If she was that resistant about 9 a.m., a text before 8 stood no chance. But as the hours ticked by, he found himself checking his phone more than he'd like to admit, more than made any logical sense for someone he'd only known a few weeks.

He went through his usual routine—ate his carefully portioned lunch, reviewed game film with mechanical focus, sat through a tedious call with his agent—but his attention kept drifting, thoughts of New Orleans intruding at unexpected moments. The memory of Riley's laugh. The way her house had smelled like vanilla and something earthy. The feeling of her hand in his as they'd wandered the parade route.

It wasn't until well into the afternoon that his screen finally lit up with her name, and he was embarrassed by how quickly he reached for the phone.

Riley: rileycarter@gmail.com... 😂 sorry, just saw this. was very busy doing nothing important while recovering from actually important things I did until 3am

Joe immediately opened his calendar app, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with his earlier workout. He shared his entire schedule, color-coded by commitment type—green for training, blue for media, yellow for sponsor events—with every potentially free slot precisely marked. Without saying anything more, he sent the calendar invitation to her email.

A few minutes later, his phone chimed.

Riley: Your is schedule color-coded and annotated? I'm oddly charmed by this.

Joe smiled, pleased she'd noticed the effort he'd put into organizing everything.

Joe: Thought it would be the most efficient way to find when we can see each other again.

Riley: I guess this means I should send you mine too? Fair warning—it's chaos.

Minutes later, another notification came through. Joe tapped open the photo she'd sent and immediately huffed out a quiet laugh that echoed in his empty kitchen.

Her calendar was absolute madness.

Joe: This is... concerning. How do you ever get anywhere on time?

Events overlapped haphazardly, some had no times attached at all. There were cryptic notes ("G + L thing???" and "Call Pete re: bridges"), entire days blocked off simply as "WRITE", and—most concerning—things like "Existential Crisis Time" and "Don't Talk to Me" randomly scattered throughout like emotional landmines.

Riley: Bold of you to assume I do.

His eyes caught on March 14-22, completely blocked off in red with just the word "ITALY" in all caps.

Joe's thumb hovered over the screen, something tight and uncomfortable forming in his stomach. He set his phone down, staring at the granite countertop of his island.

Joe: You're going to Italy?

The three dots appeared quickly this time.

Riley: Yeah, annual trip with the band and my girls. We go every year. Tiny little vineyard in the middle of nowhere. Best week of the year.

Joe exhaled slowly, setting his phone down on the counter with careful deliberation. He ran a hand over his face, suddenly aware of how quiet his apartment was, how orderly and impersonal compared to the chaotic warmth of Riley's New Orleans home.

He wasn't sure why the disappointment hit so hard. They'd known each other less than a month. This wasn't—shouldn't be—something that occupied so much space in his thoughts.

He'd been hoping to fly her out to Cincinnati soon—maybe even next week—but now? Now, he had to wait.

Joe picked up his phone again, scrolling through April with renewed determination, already looking for their next chance, trying not to examine too closely why waiting another month felt suddenly impossible.

His own reaction troubled him. This wasn't like him—this itchy impatience, this disproportionate disappointment. He was Joe Burrow. He didn't get thrown off balance by a blocked week on a calendar. He adjusted. Recalculated. Moved on.

But as he stared at the screen, at the sea of commitments that would keep them apart for weeks, something tightened in his chest that felt uncomfortably like missing her—which made no logical sense at all.

Joe: We'll figure something out. I'm pretty good at finding openings in tight coverage.

He hit send before he could overthink it, and her response came back almost instantly.

Riley: Was that a football metaphor? God, you're such a dork. I like it.

Another text followed quickly:

Riley: But see all those little white gaps between the chaos? Those are yours if you want them.

Joe read the message twice, something warm blooming in his chest despite the lingering disappointment about Italy.

Joe: I want them.

Joe smiled, the disappointment easing just slightly. If he couldn't see her yet, at least he had this—these messages that somehow made his house feel less quiet, that made him smile at his phone while standing in his kitchen.

A few days later, Joe was at a high-end training facility, mid-workout, while a camera crew documented everything for his latest sponsorship deal. It was one of those "authentic but staged" shoots—him running drills, lifting weights, and wiping sweat off his face between takes, all while wearing the latest performance gear they were paying him to promote.

Mark Caldwell stood near the squat rack, scrolling through his phone, occasionally glancing up to make sure Joe wasn't scowling too hard at the cameras.

When they called for a break, Joe grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face. Mark took that as his cue.

"So," Mark said, leaning against the wall. "How was New Orleans?"

Joe took a long sip of water. "Good."

Mark gave him a flat look. "That's all I get?"

Joe shrugged, clearly not in the mood for a debrief. "What else do you want?"

Mark sighed, crossing his arms. "I don't know. Maybe some insight into why you suddenly decided Mardi Gras was the perfect time for a 'quick getaway.'"

Joe didn't answer. He just kept drinking his water.

Mark sighed. "You seeing her again?"

Joe shot him a look, then answered without hesitation. "Yup."

Mark huffed out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Just… be smart."

Joe didn't respond. Mostly because he didn't have an answer yet.

Except he did.

Because later that afternoon, he was still thinking about her.

Joe was sprawled out on his couch, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram when he saw it. Riley’s latest post. A mirror selfie from yoga. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, damp strands clinging to her neck. 

Her skin was still flushed from exertion, lips slightly parted, leggings hugging every curve in a way that made his breath catch. The thin fabric of her sports bra clung to her body, leaving little to the imagination—and his imagination was already working overtime.

The caption?

Back at it. Barely.

Joe wasn’t reading. His thumb hovered over the screen, eyes dragging over the curve of her waist, the strength in her shoulders, the hint of collarbone visible above the neckline of her top. He exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly on the couch before switching apps.

Joe: Yoga, huh? A few minutes passed before she answered. 

Riley: You like what you see, Burrow?

Joe smirked, tongue running along the inside of his cheek. He hesitated, then typed:

Joe: Send me a picture.

Riley: You just saw one.

Joe: Yeah, but that one was for Instagram. Not for me.

A pause. Three dots appeared, disappeared, reappeared. 

Riley: Demanding, aren’t you?

A moment later, another picture came through.

This one was different.

A mirror selfie taken in what looked like her bathroom, the vanity lights casting a soft glow around her. Her hair was wet and slicked back, water droplets still visible on her skin. She wore a leopard-print bra and matching underwear, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. The set sat low on her hips, revealing the toned plane of her stomach, her legs slightly parted as she leaned into the mirror.

Her posture was confident—one hip cocked slightly, her fingers just barely hooked into the waistband of her underwear. No teasing smile this time, just pure, deliberate intent in her gaze, like she knew exactly what effect this would have on him.

Joe exhaled sharply, gripping his phone a little tighter. His free hand ran over his jaw, a slow drag as he tried to temper the heat creeping through his body. He saved the image to his camera roll without hesitation, his thumb brushing across the screen as if he could somehow touch her through it.

Joe: That's more like it.

Riley: Your turn. Make it good.

Joe huffed a quiet laugh and lifted his phone, angling the camera downward. He didn't overthink it—just snapped the picture, raw and unfiltered.

One arm still behind his head, his body relaxed, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The frame captured just enough—the defined muscles of his chest and abs, the sharp cut of his hip bones disappearing beneath the waistband. His expression was calm, effortless, but there was an undeniable confidence in his eyes—self-assured, knowing exactly what he was doing.

He hit send.

Riley's response was immediate.

Riley: Fuck.

A pause.

Riley: Not that I forgot, but damn.

Joe grinned, rolling onto his side, phone still in hand.

Joe: We could always FaceTime.

The response came almost instantly.

Riley: Call me.

Joe tapped the FaceTime button without hesitation. The quiet of his apartment seemed to amplify as he waited for her to answer, his focus sharpening in a way that normally only happened on the field.

Three rings in, the screen lit up with Riley's face. She was in her bathroom, still wearing that leopard print set, hair wet from the shower and slicked back from her face. She'd propped her phone against something, both hands now free as she rubbed moisturizer into her neck.

"Well, hello there, stranger," she said, her voice a touch deeper than usual, eyes meeting his through the screen with a look that made the distance between Cincinnati and LA feel suddenly, painfully vast.

His gaze caught briefly on her wrist, where the faded purple and gold of his LSU bracelet stood out against her skin. The sight of it there, after he'd given it to her in New Orleans, sent an unexpected surge of warmth through his chest.

"Hey." Joe's voice was steady, deliberate. He adjusted his position on the couch, angling the phone with precision so the light from the window caught him better.

"I'm glad you took me up on the FaceTime offer," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

Riley raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on her lips. "How could I refuse after that picture?"

"Fair point," Joe replied, his eyes tracking her movements with unmasked interest as she continued her post-shower routine.

"You're staring," she noted, not looking away from the mirror as she applied something to her face.

"I am," he confirmed, not bothering to hide his appreciation. "Can you blame me?"

Riley smirked, finally turning her full attention back to him. "No, I guess I can't."

Joe exhaled a quiet laugh, shifting again on the couch, his fingers tightening subtly around his phone. She was doing this on purpose—moving slow, dragging her hands over her skin in a way that was casual but not really casual.

"So, what exactly were you thinking when you suggested this call?" she asked, voice teasing.

Joe arched a brow, letting the silence linger just a beat longer than necessary. "I wanted to see you," he said, his voice low and direct. "Not just talk. Actually see you."

The candid admission hung between them, more intimate somehow than the pictures they'd exchanged earlier. Riley's movements slowed, her eyes meeting his through the screen with new intensity.

"Well," she replied, setting down her moisturizer. She leaned closer to the camera, giving him a deliberate view down the front of her leopard print bra, her eyes never leaving his. "Here I am."

The move was quintessentially Riley—playful and bold, with an authenticity that made it seductive rather than performative.

"Here you are," Joe agreed, making no effort to hide the appreciation in his gaze. "And it's better than the picture."

Riley smiled, a flush spreading across her skin that had nothing to do with the hot shower she'd just taken. "You're surprisingly good at this, you know."

"At what?" Joe asked, though his half-smile suggested he knew exactly what she meant.

"At saying exactly what you're thinking instead of dancing around it," Riley explained. "I like it."

"I don't see the point in pretending I don't want you," Joe said simply. "Even when you're two thousand miles away."

Riley smiled, satisfied with his reaction. "So what now? We just stare at each other through our phones like idiots?"

Joe ran a hand through his hair, considering her for a moment. The usual rules didn't apply here. "Or," he said decisively, voice dropping slightly, "we could make this a little more interesting."

Riley's grin turned wicked. "I love interesting." She glanced around her bathroom and laughed softly. "But I should probably get somewhere more comfortable first."

"Good idea," Joe agreed, already settled on his couch.

The camera jostled as Riley moved through her apartment, giving Joe glimpses of colorful artwork, plants, and eclectic furniture. "Don't go anywhere," she instructed, her voice playful but with an undercurrent of desire.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Joe replied, watching as she finally settled on her bed, propping the phone against something to free her hands.

Riley settled on her bed, propping the phone against something to free her hands. She looked at him through the screen, a question in her eyes that was both hesitant and daring.

Joe felt the distance between them like a physical ache. "Take it off," he said, his voice low but certain.

The simple command hung between them. For a moment, Riley just looked at him, a slow smile spreading across her face—not teasing now, but pleased by his directness.

The leopard print bra fell away, revealing her completely to him for the first time since New Orleans. Joe's breath hitched, his eyes darkening as they moved over her.

"God, I hate how far away you are right now," he said, his voice rough with desire. "I wish I could touch you."

Riley smiled, a languid curve of her lips. "Tell me how," she whispered. "Tell me what you'd do if you were here."

Joe held her gaze, his voice dropping lower. "I'd start with my hands on your hips," he said, his tone changing to something more commanding yet intimate. "Then slowly up your sides, feeling every inch of you."

Riley's breathing quickened, her hands moving to trace the path he described.

"I'd take my time at your neck," Joe continued, watching as her fingers traveled up her own body. "Right at that spot behind your ear that made you gasp in New Orleans."

Riley's eyes fluttered as her fingers found the spot, a soft "Oh" escaping her lips.

"Then down to your collarbone," he guided, his own breathing growing heavier as he watched her follow his instructions. "Across your shoulders... then back down."

"Like this?" she asked, her fingertips tracing the path he described, her voice already breathier than before.

"Exactly like that," Joe confirmed, his jaw tightening as he watched. "Now lower... where I know you want to be touched."

Riley's hand slid down her stomach, hesitating just above the waistband of her underwear. The anticipation hung between them, electric and tangible even through screens.

"Don't stop," Joe said, his voice a mixture of command and plea. "I want to see you feel good."

Her hand slipped beneath the leopard print, her eyes fluttering closed briefly with a soft, shaky gasp. "Joe," she murmured, voice thick. "God, I wish you were here."

"I am," he insisted, his own control visibly slipping. "Right here with you. Keep going."

They moved together in perfect synchronicity, Joe's low voice guiding her with increasing urgency, Riley responding to every word as if his voice itself could touch her. Their connection transcended the physical distance, creating an intimacy neither had expected to feel through a screen.

"You're close," Joe observed, his voice strained but certain. "I can tell by your breathing."

"Yes," Riley managed, her movements growing more desperate. "Joe, I'm—"

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice authoritative despite his own building tension. "I want to see your eyes when you come."

Riley's gaze locked with his on the screen, vulnerability and desire mixing in her expression as she reached the edge. "Joe," she gasped, her body arching off the bed, his name falling from her lips in a broken cry.

Joe followed moments later, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep his eyes open, determined to maintain that connection as pleasure overtook him.

For several long moments afterward, they simply breathed together, the silence comfortable rather than awkward. Something vulnerable hung in the air between them—a level of intimacy neither had expected to feel through a screen.

For several long moments afterward, they simply breathed together, the silence comfortable rather than awkward. Something vulnerable hung in the air between them—a level of intimacy neither had expected to feel through a screen.

Joe let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh…” He cleared his throat, a rare hint of self-consciousness creeping in. “I should probably clean up. Can I call you back?”

“Don’t hang up,” Riley said immediately, her voice soft but insistent. “Take me with you.”

Joe hesitated, but the look in her eyes made the decision for him. He gave her a small, almost shy smile, the kind that tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You want to watch me clean up?”

Riley rolled her eyes, but there was nothing teasing in her expression—just a quiet openness that made his chest tighten. “I just don’t want to lose you yet,” she admitted.

His face softened, and he picked up the phone, shifting from the couch and carrying it with him. “Okay,” he said simply.

The camera jostled as Joe carried her through his house—a glimpse of his space flashing past the screen. It was modern and understated, full of clean lines and muted colors. The kitchen was sleek and functional—stainless steel appliances, quartz countertops, and not a single item out of place. A set of pristine looking barstools sat at the island, and the only hint of personality was a Bengals helmet perched on a shelf, looking more like an art piece than a part of his life.

When he reached the bathroom, it was more of the same—gray tile floors, spotless glass shower, and everything organized neatly on the counter. A perfectly folded hand towel hung on the rack, and the mirror reflected the bright, clinical lighting overhead.

Riley couldn’t help but laugh softly as he set the phone on the counter. “Your place is… exactly what I pictured.”

Joe caught her eyes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “That a good thing?”

“It’s just… so modern,” she said, glancing around. “Like an upscale hotel suite. Kind of the opposite of my place.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “It works for me. Keeps me focused.”

Riley smiled, tilting her head as she watched him. “And yet, it still doesn’t quite feel like you.”

Joe glanced over at her through the mirror, his eyes narrowing just a bit in thought. “No?”

She shrugged, offering a small smile. “I guess I just thought it would be… warmer. You know, like you.”

Joe didn’t respond right away, just wiped himself down and considered her words. It wasn’t that she was wrong—the place didn’t feel like him. It felt like the kind of place he was supposed to have. Efficient. Neat. Nothing unnecessary.

He set the washcloth aside, his jaw working as he processed that thought. “I guess I’m used to keeping things practical,” he admitted.

Riley’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to, you know. Be practical all the time.”

Joe gave her a small, almost wry smile. “Kinda built my whole career on that.”

Her laughter was light, but understanding. “Yeah, well… sometimes practicality and happiness don’t exactly go hand in hand.”

He couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at his lips. “Maybe you’re right.”

Joe wiped the remaining moisture from his hands, and hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say the next part out loud. “Sometimes I don’t know if I chose it or if it chose me,” he admitted quietly, almost like he wasn’t entirely sure himself.

Riley tilted her head, catching the hint of vulnerability in his voice. “The discipline, you mean?”

Joe nodded, looking down briefly before meeting her eyes again. “Everything in my life has been about control. Making the right choices. Staying disciplined. It’s how I got here.”

“And now?” Riley asked, voice softer.

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Now I’m standing in my bathroom, talking to a woman I barely know, feeling more… seen than I have in years.”

The confession hung between them, raw and honest in a way that made Riley’s breath catch. She hadn’t expected this—not just the intimacy of their bodies, but this glimpse into the carefully guarded interior of Joe Burrow.

He picked up the phone, heading back to the living room, where the muted tones and minimalist décor stretched into the open-concept space. As he settled back on the couch, he gave her a quick once-over through the screen, clearly appreciating how she was still casually sprawled on her bed, unapologetically comfortable in her own skin.

“Alright,” he said, tone deliberately lighter, determined to shake off the weird vulnerability that had settled between them. “What’s tomorrow look like for Riley Carter?”

Riley shifted against her pillows, still completely nude and utterly comfortable with it. “Nothing as put-together as yours. Studio time at two. Probably sleep until ten, maybe do some yoga, and try to figure out this bridge that’s been giving me hell.”

She absently ran her thumb over his bracelet on her wrist. “Though honestly, I should probably start thinking about packing for Italy. The band and my girls always tease me for throwing everything together the night before.”

Joe watched her fiddle with the bracelet, and something settled in his chest at the sight of it still on her wrist. “You looking forward to it?”

Riley gave a small, almost wistful smile. “Yeah. It’s good to get away with my people. Just… be somewhere else for a while, you know?”

Joe caught the subtle shift in her tone—like maybe it wasn’t just about the trip, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just nodded. “Sounds like a good tradition.”

“What about you?” Riley asked, shifting to prop herself up a little more. “Any off-season traditions?”

Joe leaned back against the couch, his voice easy. "During the off-season? I usually head back to Athens to catch up with old friends. We'll plan beach trips or just spend days on the golf course. When I'm home, my dad and I try to catch Cavs games whenever we can."

Riley smiled, her eyes warming. "I can picture that so clearly. So what happens when you're out golfing with your friends? I bet you try to keep it casual at first, but the second someone makes a comment about your swing or how you sliced the ball..."

Joe huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, pretty much. They know how to get under my skin, and I can’t just let it go.”

“Of course not,” Riley teased. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t make it a competition.”

He gave her a look, his mouth curving up. “I’m not that bad.”

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”

There was a comfortable pause before Riley spoke again. “So, what’s tomorrow look like for you?”

Joe shook his head, clearly amused. “Probably up around seven—hit the gym, maybe get in a run. Catch up on some film, and then grab dinner with a couple of the guys if they’re free.”

She made a face. “See, that actually sounds like a pretty solid off-season day. No 5 a.m. alarms.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I don’t go that hard in the off-season. Doesn’t mean I’m sleeping till noon, though.”

Riley scoffed. “Can’t relate. My body doesn’t even acknowledge mornings.”

Joe grinned, his expression softening. “I kind of figured that out already.”

Three days after the FaceTime call with Riley, Joe was sprawled on his friend Sam's couch, one leg propped on the coffee table as he nursed a beer and watched the Cavs game. Sam's apartment had become their default gathering spot on rare free evenings—convenient location, decent TV setup, and most importantly, a host who didn't care if they demolished his fridge contents.

Micah, Joe's friend since high school, was mid-debate with Sam about a questionable call when Joe's phone buzzed. He glanced down, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly when he saw Riley's name.

Riley: Just got out of the shower and thinking about our last FaceTime... wondering if you're busy right now? Might have something to show you that can't wait until Italy 😏

His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating a response, but the sharp flicker of heat low in his stomach made the decision for him. He shifted against the couch, angling his phone away from prying eyes.

Joe: With friends watching the game

Riley: Even better. They can watch too. Kidding. Rain check?

"I hit you up last week to play a round and you said you were out of town. I thought you just got back from New York. Where did you go?" Micah asked, tossing a balled-up napkin at Joe's head.

Joe caught it reflexively. Didn't answer right away.

"New Orleans."

"Holy shit," Sam laughed. "I thought that was just a rumor. You actually went?"

Joe took a sip of his beer. Nodded once.

Micah watched him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"

"Mardi Gras."

"You went to New Orleans for Mardi Gras?" The disbelief in Sam's voice was palpable.

"Yup."

The silence that followed was pointed. Joe could feel both of them waiting for him to fill in the gaps.

"Alright, I'll bite," Sam said, muting the TV during a commercial. "Who is she?"

Joe shot him a look. "Who says there's a she?"

"Your face," Micah chimed in. "Every time your phone buzzes, you get this look. It's subtle, but it's there."

Joe's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He wasn't used to being read so easily, especially not by his friends. That was new.

"It's just someone I met recently," he finally said, keeping his tone neutral, matter-of-fact, though the tension in his shoulders told a different story.

"Riley Carter," he added after a beat, deciding to get it over with.

The reaction was immediate. Sam nearly choked on his beer, and Micah's eyes widened comically.

"The singer?" Sam managed after recovering. "The one with that song that was everywhere last summer?"

Joe nodded, suddenly finding the label on his beer bottle intensely interesting.

"Damn," Micah said, leaning back against the couch. "That's... unexpected."

"When I did Fallon last month," Joe explained before they could ask, his usual economy with words even more pronounced. "We were both on the show."

Micah studied him for a moment. "And you're what, texting? Dating? Just friends?"

Joe took another drink before answering. "We're figuring it out." The same words he'd said to Riley during that quiet moment in New Orleans.

"Is it serious?" Sam asked carefully, knowing Joe well enough to recognize when he was approaching a boundary.

Joe stared at the TV. Didn't answer right away. Three weeks ago, he would have dismissed it immediately. But now? After New Orleans? After late-night calls and FaceTime sessions that left him feeling more himself than he had in years?

"Could be," he admitted quietly, surprising himself with his own answer.

Sam and Micah exchanged a look—this one containing a mix of surprise and something like concern.

"Just be careful, man," Micah said eventually. "Someone like that... lives in a different world."

Joe's expression cooled. "You don't know her."

Micah held up his hands. "You're right, I don't. Just saying... rock stars and quarterbacks? Different playbooks."

Joe's phone buzzed again. He resisted the urge to check it immediately, which didn't go unnoticed by his friends.

"Go ahead," Sam said, gesturing to the phone. "We know you want to."

Joe picked up the phone, his face remaining neutral despite the photo that had just come through—Riley in bed, sheet barely covering what needed to be covered, hair wild around her face, looking at the camera with an expression that made his throat go dry.

His pulse jumped. The shift in his breathing was immediate, involuntary.

Riley: Preview of what you're missing. I'll leave you to your game now.

Joe dragged his thumb over the screen—not responding. Just looking.

He set his phone down. Exhaled through his nose. Willed his face to stay neutral.

"Dude," Micah observed, smirking.

Joe ignored him, reaching for his beer. "We watching this game or what?"

Sam, recognizing Joe's shift into privacy mode, unmuted the TV. "All I'm saying is, if you start showing up in TMZ photos, I'm going to need some warning."

Joe huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Not my style."

"Seems like it's hers though," Micah commented, eyes still on the game.

Joe didn't take the bait, his silence speaking volumes. The implication that Riley was somehow just another attention-seeking celebrity rubbed him the wrong way. The Riley he knew—the one who cooked with him in her kitchen, who showed him her neighborhood haunts, who talked music theory with the same intensity he discussed defensive schemes—was nothing like the image they had of her.

The Cavs pulled ahead in the fourth quarter, securing what had been an uncertain win. As the final buzzer sounded, Micah stretched, checking his watch.

"I should head out. Early client tomorrow," he said, standing.

Joe nodded, using it as his own excuse to leave. He'd enjoyed the game, but the undercurrent of curiosity from his friends was starting to grate on him. They meant well, but they didn't understand. How could they? He barely understood it himself.

Later, as he was leaving, Sam caught him at the door. "Hey, I know we gave you shit? It's cool you're getting back out there."

Joe paused, then nodded once. "Yeah. It is."

"And hey," Sam added, "if she makes you check your phone every five minutes and fly to New Orleans on a whim, she must be something special."

Joe didn't respond, but something in his expression made Sam smile.

The moment Joe shut his car door, he felt a weight lift. An urge he couldn't quite explain—wouldn't have acted on three weeks ago—pushed through his usual calculated restraint. He sat with his key in the ignition, not yet starting the car, and pulled out his phone.

It was only 10:17 PM. Not too late to call.

In the past, he'd have waited until he was home, analyzed whether calling was the right move, perhaps even slept on the decision. But the image of Riley waiting for his response, perhaps wondering if he'd been put off by her forwardness, created an unusual sense of urgency.

When she answered on the second ring, the low warmth of her voice felt like a physical relief.

"Well hello there, quarterback," Riley said, the smile evident in her tone. "Miss me already?"

"Yeah," Joe admitted, the honesty surprising even himself. "Wanted to hear your voice."

There was a brief pause, his directness clearly catching her off guard. "That's... unexpectedly sweet. Everything okay?"

"Fine," Joe said, finally starting the car. "Just thinking about you."

"Your friends give you a hard time about New Orleans?"

"Some. Nothing I can't handle."

"Let me guess," Riley said, her voice taking on a knowing quality. "They warned you that I'm trouble? Different world? Too much drama?"

Joe let out a short laugh. "Something like that."

"And what did you say?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity beneath her light tone.

"That they don't know you," Joe replied simply.

Another pause. "That's a good answer, Burrow."

"It's the truth."

The conversation shifted then, flowing naturally between them as he drove through Cincinnati's quiet streets. By the time Joe pulled into his driveway, they'd covered everything from her latest recording session to his training schedule for the week, neither noticing how much time had passed.

"I'm home," Joe said reluctantly. "Should probably head in."

"Before you go," Riley said, her voice dropping slightly, "did you like your preview earlier?"

Joe closed his eyes briefly, the image from her text flashing in his mind again. "You know I did."

"Good," she murmured. "Maybe next time we FaceTime, you'll get the full show."

"Is that a promise?" Joe asked, his voice lower now.

"That depends," Riley said, the smile back in her voice. "How badly do you want it?"

"Enough that I called you from a parking lot," Joe admitted, allowing a rare glimpse of vulnerability.

Riley's laugh was warm and genuine. "Goodnight, Joe."

"Goodnight, Riley."

As he ended the call and headed inside, Joe recognized with unusual clarity what was happening. For the first time in his life, his carefully structured world was shifting to make room for something—someone—who operated by completely different rules. And instead of fighting to maintain control, he found himself leaning into the change.

Different worlds, definitely. But as he walked toward his front door, Joe realized with absolute certainty—he'd rather have Riley bringing chaos to his ordered life than return to the perfect, predictable emptiness he'd inhabited before she arrived.

Over the next week, his routine stayed pretty much the same - workouts, meetings, sponsor obligations - but his world felt different. There was a new current running through it: Riley. Their daily texts and nightly calls had become the highlight of his day, the thing he found himself looking forward to most.

The night before her Italy trip, they talked longer than usual, neither willing to be the first to hang up.

"So I've gotta survive nine whole days without one of these calls?" Joe asked, stretching out on his couch.

"I'll still have my phone," Riley laughed. "Italy has cell service, you know. I'll be reachable."

"Good," Joe said. "Looking forward to hearing all about it."

"God, I can't wait to see Bob and Gina," Riley said, excitement clear in her voice. "Bob called yesterday to make sure I still like the same breakfast. They haven't changed my room in three years."

"Bob and Gina?" Joe asked. "The vineyard owners?"

"Yeah, Roberto and Gina Rossi, but everyone calls him Bob. They own this small vineyard in the middle of nowhere, not one of those commercial operations with tour buses. It's this hidden gem in the hills."

"How'd you end up staying at a vineyard?" Joe asked, genuinely curious. "I'd have guessed fancy hotels were more the rock star way."

Riley laughed. "We stumbled on their place completely by accident during a wine tasting tour a few years ago. We were already a bit tipsy from the previous vineyards when we found the Rossi estate."

"And they just let random Americans crash at their place?"

That's the thing about Bob and Gina - they don't believe in strangers, only friends they haven't met yet. Within twenty minutes of meeting us, Gina was feeding us these amazing little appetizers, and Bob was pulling out bottles he said he 'only shares with family.'" Riley's voice warmed with the memory. "Then this massive rainstorm hit, roads were flooded, and Gina refused to let us leave. Said it wasn't safe. What started as a simple dinner turned into an overnight stay."

"And now it's an annual thing?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, we've gone back every year since. They block off the same week for us. It's... it's special. One of those rare places where time seems to slow down."

Joe could hear the genuine affection in her voice. "What do you all do there for a whole week?"

Riley hesitated, just briefly enough that Joe almost missed it. "Oh, you know... Bob shows us around the vineyard, explains the wine-making process. We cook with Gina. There's a little village nearby we explore. Just... relaxing stuff."

Something about her answer felt slightly evasive, but Joe let it go. "Sounds nice. Different from your usual pace."

"That's exactly why we love it," Riley said. "No pressure, no schedules, no expectations. Just good food, good wine, good people. It's become this... I don't know, this tradition that grounds us somehow."

Joe nodded, though she couldn't see him. There was something in her tone when she said "tradition" that caught his attention - a softness, a significance he couldn't quite place. "You guys must have a lot of traditions by now, being together so long as a band."

"Some," Riley agreed. "The vineyard trip is probably our favorite though. It's... it's important to us."

The slight hesitation again. Joe found himself wondering what made this particular tradition so special, but didn't press. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, and they were still learning each other's boundaries.

"Take pictures," he said instead. "I want to see this magical vineyard."

"Only if you send daily workout selfies," Riley countered. "Gotta keep track of those gains."

Joe laughed, surprised by how easily she could make him do that now. "Deal."

They talked for another hour, neither wanting to end the call, conversation flowing easily between teasing banter and comfortable silences. Eventually, Joe glanced at the time and sighed.

“You know you’re never gonna get packed if you keep talking to me,” he pointed out, voice soft.

Riley huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe I’m stalling. Can you blame me?”

He smiled at that, his chest warming. “Nah,” he said, his tone just as reluctant. “Can’t say I mind.”

She hesitated, and he could almost hear her shifting against the pillows. “I guess I should get moving, though,” she said, not sounding convinced.

“Yeah,” Joe agreed, but neither of them made a move to actually hang up.

When they finally did, much later than planned, Joe stayed there for a moment—phone still in his hand, staring at the dark screen. An uneasy feeling settled over him—something uncomfortably close to longing. Nine days suddenly felt like an eternity.

He’d gone months without talking to women he’d dated before without a second thought. Yet the idea of not hearing Riley’s voice for even a few days left him feeling oddly untethered.

It didn’t make sense—this quiet anxiety, this persistent preoccupation. The Joe Burrow everyone knew was independent, self-contained. He didn’t get attached this quickly. He didn’t rearrange his schedule for anyone. He certainly didn’t find himself checking his phone multiple times an hour, hoping for a text.

But that Joe Burrow hadn’t known Riley Carter.

Meanwhile, at her house in Los Angeles, Riley was surrounded by chaos - clothes thrown all over her bed, shoes scattered across the floor, and her suitcase basically empty. Classic Riley packing strategy.

Laura lounged on the window seat, scrolling through her phone, occasionally glancing up at the disaster zone with fond amusement.

"You know we're leaving tomorrow, right?" she said, not actually concerned.

Riley shrugged, tossing another shirt toward her suitcase without really looking. "I'll throw everything in before we go. It's not like we need anything special - it's just Bob and Gina's."

"True," Laura agreed. "Just wandering the vineyard and drinking wine all day."

"Exactly. Perfect vacation." Riley held up two sundresses. "Though I should probably bring something semi-decent for dinner."

"The blue one," Laura said automatically. "You always look good in that one."

Riley eyed the blue dress, not admitting that when she'd considered it earlier, she'd caught herself wondering what Joe might think of it – which was ridiculous, since he wouldn't even see it.

Laura's attention shifted from her phone, something mischievous in her expression. "So... did you tell Joe about your birthday happening while we're there?"

Riley busied herself with shoving clothes haphazardly into her suitcase. "Nope."

"Any reason?" Laura asked, genuinely curious rather than judgmental.

Riley paused, absently running her fingers over Joe's LSU bracelet on her wrist. "It just feels weird to bring it up now, you know? Like, 'Oh by the way, it's my birthday while I'm gone.' What's he supposed to do with that information?"

"Say happy birthday?" Laura suggested with a small laugh.

Riley shot her a look. "You know what I mean. It creates this weird expectation. Either he feels obligated to do something, or he doesn't do anything and then it seems like he doesn't care."

"Or maybe you're overthinking the whole thing," Laura pointed out gently.

They both knew she was thinking about Ethan and last year's birthday debacle - the extravagant surprise party he'd thrown, complete with press and expensive jewelry. Two weeks later, he was gone, making the whole thing feel like a performance rather than something genuine.

"Joe isn't Ethan," Laura said, reading her thoughts.

"I know that," Riley replied quickly. "It's not about Joe. It's just... simpler this way."

Laura nodded, understanding. "Well, it's your call. Not like we won't have plenty to celebrate anyway. Haley's already talking about doing karaoke at Bob and Gina's again."

Riley's eyes lit up. "God, after last year? Bob still sends me videos of Andy trying to hit those high notes in 'Bohemian Rhapsody.'"

"Pretty sure Gina threatened to hide the microphone if he tries that song again," Laura laughed. "Though she did say we're always welcome back."

Riley's phone buzzed on the nightstand. She tried to be subtle checking it, but Laura didn't miss how her expression instantly softened.

"That him again?" Laura asked, a smile playing at her lips.

Riley rolled her eyes but couldn't quite hide her smile. "Maybe."

"You're so transparent," Laura teased, but her tone was warm rather than mocking. "It's actually kind of nice to see."

"Oh, shut up," Riley said without heat, tossing a balled-up t-shirt in Laura's direction.

As they continued the chaotic packing process - or rather, as Riley continued to avoid serious packing while Laura provided running commentary - Riley found herself thinking about what Joe's friend had apparently said. Different worlds. Maybe that was true. But the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if different worlds sometimes needed exactly what the other had to offer.

Twenty hours, one delayed connection at Fiumicino Airport, and a questionable car rental later, they were finally approaching their destination. The rental van lurched up the steep gravel driveway, Pete at the wheel, cursing in colorful Italian phrases he'd picked up during their previous visits.

"Every year," he muttered, wrestling with the gearshift. "Every damn year I forget how to drive this mountain."

In the back seat, Riley leaned her head against the window, watching as rows of grapevines gave way to olive trees, then finally the weathered stone villa at Roberto and Gina’s vineyard in Ripatransone. No matter how many times they returned, the view never failed to take her breath away—the hills rolling into the distance, cypress trees standing sentinel, the late afternoon sun painting everything in amber and gold.

“Home sweet Italian home,” Laura sighed, stretching as the van finally came to a stop. “I swear this place gets more gorgeous every time.”

The front door of the house swung open before they could even climb out of the van, and a woman in her late fifties with silver-streaked dark hair and the kind of deep tan that spoke of days spent in vineyards came rushing toward them, arms wide.

“My children! You’ve arrived!” Gina Rossi enveloped Riley in a crushing hug the moment her feet touched the gravel. “Too thin, all of you. Always too thin. But we fix that, yes?”

Riley laughed, returning the embrace with genuine affection. “We’ve missed you, Gina.”

“And we’ve missed our favorite Americans,” Gina’s husband, Roberto, appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “The kitchen has been too quiet without you.”

As the others filtered in, Riley stepped onto the familiar terrace and took a deep breath of the herb-scented air. This place had been their sanctuary for years—a break from tours, recording sessions, and the constant demands of their growing fame.

Gina wrapped an arm around Riley’s shoulders, guiding her inside. “Come, come. You look tired from the journey. Roberto has made bistecca, and I have that almond cake you love.”

Riley smiled, letting herself be led through the cool stone entryway. The vineyard house was a perfect blend of rustic charm and understated luxury—terracotta floors, exposed wooden beams, and windows that framed the landscape like living paintings.

“So,” Gina said once they reached the kitchen, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “Laura tells me there is a new man, yes? Someone important?”

Riley shot Laura a look, but her friend just shrugged innocently from the doorway.

“What? She asked how everyone was doing. I was just catching her up.”

Riley rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile on her lips. “He’s not—” She hesitated, correcting herself. “It’s new. Really new.”

Gina’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Ah, but he is special, yes? I can see it on your face.”

Riley felt her cheeks warm but didn’t deny it. “Maybe.”

“Good,” Gina said, giving her an approving pat on the cheek. “Love is good, even when it’s unexpected.”

Laura slipped into the kitchen, already rummaging through the cabinets. “You better brace yourself, Ri. Gina’s going to ask you every question under the sun.”

Riley shot her a dry look. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

Gina just smiled knowingly and handed Riley a glass of wine. “We will talk more later. For now, you drink. You’re on vacation.”

"It's... still new," Riley admitted, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"But not just anyone," Gina observed, studying Riley's expression with the shrewd perception of someone who had seen decades of love stories unfold under her roof. "This one matters."

It wasn't a question, but Riley nodded anyway. "Yeah. He does."

Gina smiled, patting Riley's cheek. "Good. The smile reaches your eyes this time. Not like with the other one."

The other one was how Gina always referred to Ethan, never by name, as if he didn't deserve the dignity of it after how things had ended.

"Tell me more," Gina insisted, pulling Riley to sit at the massive farmhouse table while she poured them each a glass of Roberto's wine. "Where did you meet? What does he do?"

Riley took a grateful sip of the rich red wine. "We met in New York. I was doing Fallon, and he was a guest too."

"Ah! Also famous?"

"Um, yeah. He's a football player. Quarterback."

Gina's brow furrowed. "American football? With the helmet and the tackling?"

"That's the one."

"Hmm." Gina looked thoughtful. "Strong, then. Good shoulders?"

Riley nearly choked on her wine. "Very good shoulders."

"Let me show you," Riley said, reaching for her phone. She scrolled through her photos, finding the ones she'd taken in New Orleans. "This is Joe."

Gina peered at the screen, examining the photo of Joe and Riley on her back porch swing, both smiling at the camera in the soft evening light.

"Handsome," Gina nodded, obviously impressed. She swiped to the next photo—Joe in the kitchen, focused intently on chopping some fruit, completely unaware of Riley capturing the moment. "Ah, he cooks too!"

"We made biscuits and gravy," Riley explained, smiling at the memory. "His first time."

Gina swiped again, to a photo of Joe in his parade disguise, beads around his neck, head thrown back in laughter at something out of frame. "I like his smile. Reaches his eyes."

"Yeah," Riley agreed softly. "It does."

"And a good heart?" Gina pressed, suddenly serious. "This is what matters most."

Riley thought about Joe—his quiet confidence, the way he'd shown her his city, how attentively he listened when she spoke, the respect he showed her friends. The way he'd looked at her house, seeing the real her in every detail.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I think so."

"You think? Or you know?" Gina challenged.

"I know," Riley amended. "Different worlds, but... a good heart."

Gina nodded, satisfied. "Different worlds can work. Roberto was a wealthy landowner's son. I was just a girl from the village. Everyone said it would never last." She gestured around the kitchen they'd shared for thirty years. "But here we are."

As the others filtered in, the conversation shifted to dinner preparations and plans for the week ahead. But throughout the evening, as they gathered around the long table on the terrace, passing plates and trading stories, Riley found her thoughts drifting to Joe. She'd meant to text him when they landed, but between the rental car confusion, the spotty service on the mountain roads, and the chaos of arrival, she'd forgotten until now.

After dinner, Riley found Laura and Haley huddled with Gina near the garden, wine glasses in hand. As she approached, their conversation hushed suspiciously.

"What's going on?" Riley asked, narrowing her eyes at their too-innocent expressions.

"We were just discussing the birthday feast," Gina explained, patting the space beside her on the stone bench. "Roberto is already planning which vintage to open."

"And I was just telling Gina how you haven't told your football player about your birthday," Laura added, shooting Riley a pointed look.

Riley sighed, dropping onto the bench. "Seriously, Laura?"

"What?" Laura defended. "Gina asked about gift arrangements, and I mentioned there wouldn't be any from Joe since he doesn't know."

"Why you not tell him, cara?" Gina asked, genuine confusion on her face. "Birthdays are for celebrating with those who matter."

"It's complicated," Riley said, feeling three pairs of eyes studying her intently.

"She thinks it adds pressure," Haley explained to Gina. "Makes things too serious too fast."

Riley shot her a betrayed look. "Thanks for the translation, Haley."

"Am I wrong?" Haley challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Gina scoffed, waving her hand dismissively. "Pressure? Birthdays are not pressure. They are joy! Celebration! If this man cares for you, he would want to know."

"It's not about whether he'd want to know," Riley tried to explain. "It's about expectations. I don't want him to feel obligated to do something just because it's my birthday."

"Ah, this is about the other one," Gina said with sudden understanding. "The one who made the big show, then disappeared."

Riley winced. Gina had always been unnervingly perceptive.

"Ethan has nothing to do with this," she insisted, though the protest sounded weak even to her own ears.

"Mmhmm," Laura hummed skeptically. "Nothing at all to do with how he threw that massive surprise party last year with all those photographers as his grand 'let's get back together' gesture, then disappeared again two weeks later."

"That's not—" Riley started to protest, then stopped. Laura wasn't wrong. It had always been easier for Riley to express herself through music than to be vulnerable in relationships. "It's complicated."

"It always is with you," Laura said, but her tone was affectionate. "But you know what? This guy seems different. The way you talk about him, the way you look at those pictures when you think no one's watching."

Riley felt warmth creep into her cheeks. "It's too soon for birthdays," she insisted.

"If you say so," Laura said, clearly unconvinced. "But don't be surprised if he figures it out. Haley tagged you in that throwback post from last year."

Riley's eyes widened. "She did what?"

"Relax," Laura laughed. "He probably hasn't seen it. And even if he has, so what? It's your birthday. It's not like it's a state secret."

"It's not about secrecy," Riley muttered. "It's about... timing."

Laura patted her hand. "Whatever you say. But for what it's worth? I think you're overthinking this one."

As the others filtered back inside, Riley stayed on the terrace a moment longer, staring out at the darkened vineyard. Was she overthinking it? Maybe. But there was something comfortable about keeping this boundary, about having this week just for her friends, her chosen family. The way it had been for years.

Still, as she finally headed to her room, she couldn't help but wonder what Joe was doing right now, if he was thinking about her too.

She pulled out her phone, surprised to find several missed calls from her manager about a potential sync deal, but nothing from Joe.

She checked the time—mid-afternoon in Cincinnati. He'd be in the middle of his workout routine by now.

She tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. Probably in the gym, phone on do not disturb.

Riley 🎤: Hey, sorry I didn't text when we landed yesterday. Complete chaos at the airport, then wifi issues at the vineyard, and by the time we got settled it was so late for you. Hope your workout went well this morning! Villa pics coming soon 😘

She scrolled through the photos she'd already taken—the view from her window, the sunset over the vineyard, the massive spread of food Gina had prepared. She selected a few and attached them to a follow-up text.

Riley 🎤: See what I mean? Paradise. Three days here and I'm never going to want to leave.

She set her phone on the nightstand and stepped out onto the balcony, breathing in the fragrant night air. The hills stretched before her, dotted with the lights of distant farmhouses, the sky above impossibly vast and star-filled.

This was her favorite place in the world, this little corner of Tuscany that felt timeless and vibrant. Being here always filled her with a sense of perspective, of what really mattered.

Her phone remained silent as she got ready for bed, exhaustion from the long journey finally catching up to her. She checked it one last time before sliding under the cool sheets.

No response.

Odd. He was usually quick to reply, even on his busiest days.

Maybe he's out with friends, she thought. Or still in the gym. Or his phone died.

But as she drifted toward sleep, a niggling worry crept in. Had something changed? Was he having second thoughts? He'd seemed so solid, so certain in New Orleans and in all their conversations since.

Stop overthinking, she told herself firmly. It's been a few hours. Not everything means something.

Still, as sleep finally claimed her, her last conscious thought was of Joe, and the strange hollow feeling his silence had left.

Meanwhile, in Cincinnati, Joe was staring at Riley's texts, his body sprawled on the couch but his mind six thousand miles away. What the actual fuck? Her birthday? The whole trip to Italy wasn't just some annual tradition with friends—it was a birthday celebration. Her birthday celebration. And she hadn't told him.

The realization had hit him like a blindside tackle earlier that day, scrolling through Instagram and seeing the post from her friend Haley. Throwback to last year's birthday celebrations in Italy. Can't wait to celebrate 26 with you @riley_carter #birthdaygirl #italybound #bestfriendgoals. Riley, blowing out candles on a cake, the same vineyard in the background that she'd just sent him photos of.

March 20th. Her birthday was in five days. And she hadn't said a word about it.

The melody of "This Must Be The Place" floated through his head unbidden. That feeling he'd had in New Orleans, in her house—like he'd found something he didn't even know he was missing. Like he'd come home somehow.

Home is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there...

He couldn't stop thinking about that song since New Orleans, that feeling of belonging. And now this—finding out about her birthday through Instagram, like he was just some casual follower, not someone who'd spent three days in her bed, in her life.

He'd planned to ignore her messages until morning, give himself time to sort through the complicated mix of emotions. But seeing the photos of Italy—the same vineyard where she'd celebrated her last birthday—made it harder to maintain his resolve.

He typed out several responses, deleting each one before sending. Nothing captured the right tone. He didn't want to be petty, didn't want to make her feel bad. But he also couldn't pretend he hadn't discovered her secret, couldn't act like everything was normal when it felt like she'd deliberately kept him at a distance.

He set the phone down without responding. Tomorrow, he'd figure out what to do about the birthday. Tonight, he needed space to think.

Riley woke to sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains and the distant sounds of breakfast being prepared. She reached for her phone immediately, half-expecting to see a message from Joe.

Nothing.

She stared at the screen for a moment, a hollow feeling expanding inside her chest. It had been almost twelve hours since she’d texted him—Joe had never gone this long without responding before.

Fighting the urge to text again—she didn’t want to be that girl—Riley forced herself out of bed and into the shower. By the time she joined the others for breakfast on the terrace, she’d checked her phone three more times.

“She lives!” Andy teased as she slid into a seat at the table, which was already laden with fresh fruit, pastries, and carafes of strong coffee.

“Barely,” Riley admitted, pouring herself a much-needed cup. “Jet lag hit me hard.”

Laura glanced up from buttering a croissant and gave Riley a curious look. “Have you heard from him yet?”

Riley tried to play it cool, even though the question made her chest feel tight. “No,” she said lightly. “He’s probably busy. I've told you how his schedule is.”

Laura didn’t look convinced. “Busy or not, he’s never left you hanging this long before. You sure everything’s okay?”

Riley rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Seriously. It’s my birthday week, and I’m gonna get it together and be happy, so just brace yourselves for that, alright?”

Andy snorted from across the table, tossing a grape into his mouth. “Birthday diva incoming.”

Riley shot him a smirk. “Damn right. I’m gonna be annoyingly cheerful and loud, so get ready.”

Laura softened, giving her a look that said she wasn’t entirely buying the act, but she didn’t push. “Okay, birthday queen. Just know we’re here if you need to vent or whatever.”

Riley flashed her a quick grin and took a long sip of coffee, trying to convince herself as much as everyone else that she could shake it off.

Throughout the day, they wandered through the vineyard with Bob, listening as he explained the early spring growth of the vines with his usual passion and humor. Riley laughed at his stories and nodded along when he pointed out new buds and promising clusters, but her mind kept drifting. She found herself glancing at her phone more often than she wanted to admit, each time hoping to see Joe’s name lighting up the screen.

Nothing.

By the time they made it into the nearby medieval village for lunch, her chest felt tight and restless, like something important was slipping through her fingers. She tried to shake it off, joining in on Andy’s loud, animated retelling of their first chaotic visit to the vineyard, but her smile felt forced and thin. Each check of her phone only made that hollow feeling dig in deeper, rooting itself in her ribs.

By nightfall, after another incredible dinner that she barely tasted, she couldn’t ignore it anymore. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

Back in her room, she stared at her phone for a long time, debating whether to call again or just let it go. But the uncertainty was gnawing at her, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She dialed his number, the familiar sound of ringing sending a wave of hope and anxiety crashing over her.

Voicemail.

She swallowed down the ache in her throat and forced herself to type out a message, trying to keep it light and casual even as her fingers shook.

Riley 🎤: Earth to Burrow. You alive over there?

She hit send and dropped her phone on the bed, staring out the window at the moonlit hills. The knot in her stomach tightened, and for once, Riley didn’t know if she was mad, worried, or just hurt.

Joe was sprawled out on his couch, controller in hand, mind barely on the game he was playing. The sound of gunfire and explosions filled the room, but he wasn’t really listening. His phone was sitting face-down on the coffee table, right where he’d left it hours ago, and he couldn’t stop glancing at it between missions.

He wasn’t ignoring her on purpose. Not really. He just needed a minute to get his head right. Figure out why he couldn’t shake this weird knot in his stomach since he found out about her birthday. It wasn’t about the damn birthday itself—it was the fact that she hadn’t told him. Like he wasn’t important enough to know.

That thought burned. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—like he’d been shut out without even knowing it. Riley wasn’t the kind of person to play games. She’d always been upfront with him, never hiding her chaos or her flaws. So why hadn’t she said anything about it?

His phone buzzed, and his heart thudded a little harder than he’d like to admit. He reached for it, flipping it over with his thumb to see her name on the screen. His chest tightened.

Riley 🎤: Earth to Burrow. You alive over there?

He let out a slow breath, guilt twisting through him. He knew he was being an ass—shutting her out just because his pride was bruised. She didn’t deserve that.

He typed back, trying to sound normal.

Joe QB🏈: Yeah, sorry. Got caught up with some stuff today. How’s Italy?

It felt like a weak excuse, even to him. Distant. Detached. Nothing like how he actually felt—like he’d been stuck in his own head all day, trying to make sense of why it was bugging him so damn much.

Her reply came almost right away.

Riley 🎤: It’s incredible. Forgot how much I love it here. What kind of stuff kept you busy?

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of him wanted to just tell her the truth—that he hated finding out about her birthday from a random Instagram post. That it made him feel like an outsider in her life. But he couldn’t get the words out. Couldn’t risk sounding like he was making a big deal out of nothing.

Joe QB🏈: Just meetings, workout, some film study. The usual.

He knew it sounded cold, even before he sent it. But he couldn’t figure out how to fix it. How to make it sound less like he was brushing her off and more like he just… didn’t know how to deal with it.

Her response came in a minute later.

Riley 🎤: Don’t work too hard. You’re supposed to be resting in the off-season.

He almost smiled. That sounded more like her. Always keeping him grounded without pushing too much.

Joe QB🏈: Trying. Getting late here. Talk tomorrow?

It wasn’t enough, and he knew it. But he couldn’t bring himself to say more. Not when he still didn’t know how to put it into words without sounding like an idiot. He set the phone back down and leaned his head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering how he’d managed to screw this up without even trying.

Riley's phone rang, and her heart leapt into her throat when she saw Joe's name light up the screen. She answered immediately.

"Hey," Riley answered, her voice carefully casual but with an undercurrent of relief that made Joe's chest tighten.

"Hey," he replied, working to keep his own voice steady. "Sorry for the late call."

"No, it's fine," Riley said quickly. "I was just reading. Time difference and all."

A brief silence stretched between them, filled with all the things neither was saying. Joe could hear the soft sounds of night through her open window—crickets, a distant voice calling in Italian, wind rustling through trees.

"So," he began, his voice deliberately even. "I saw something interesting today."

"Oh?" Riley's tone was light, but there was a thread of tension in it.

"Yeah. On Instagram." Joe paused, then decided to just say it. "Haley posted about your birthday. Last year in Italy. Same place you are now."

The silence that followed was heavy, loaded. Joe could almost picture her expression—those amber eyes widening slightly, her bottom lip caught between her teeth the way it did when she was caught off guard.

"I... yeah." Riley's voice was quieter now. "My birthday's on the 20th."

"Five days from now," Joe confirmed. "Were you going to tell me?"

Riley exhaled, a soft sound that carried across the thousands of miles between them. "I don't know," she admitted. "Probably. Eventually."

"Why keep it a secret?" Joe asked, working to keep accusation from his tone.

Another pause. Joe could hear her shifting, as if sitting up in bed.

"It's not a secret exactly," Riley finally said. "It's just... complicated.

"How is a birthday complicated?"

"It's not the birthday itself," Riley explained. "It's... I don't know how to explain it without sounding crazy."

"Try me," Joe said, settling back against his headboard.

Riley sighed again. "Birthdays are loaded, you know? There are expectations. If I told you, then you'd feel obligated to do something or say something, and we're still so new, and I didn't want to..." She trailed off.

"Didn't want to what?" Joe pressed gently.

"Push things faster than they should go," she finished. "Or make you feel pressured. Or make it into something bigger than it is."

She hesitated, then added, "Last year with Ethan... we were in this weird on-again, off-again place, and he made this huge deal about my birthday. Surprise party, expensive jewelry, the works. It was like he was trying to prove something. Two weeks later, he was gone again."

"Ah," Joe said, understanding dawning. "So birthdays come with baggage."

"Yeah," Riley admitted quietly. "After that, I just... I don't know. Birthdays became this thing where people feel like they have to make grand gestures. And if they do, it doesn't necessarily mean anything real."

Joe was silent for a moment, processing her words. "Do you think that's what I'd do? Feel obligated?"

"I don't know," Riley admitted. "Maybe? Most people would."

"I'm not most people," Joe said quietly.

"I know that," Riley replied, her voice softening. "That's kind of the point. You're... important. More than I expected this soon. And that's scary."

The honesty in her admission caught Joe off guard. He hadn't expected her to be so direct about her feelings. It shifted something in him, eased the knot of hurt that had been sitting in his chest all day.

"So you weren't trying to keep me at a distance?" he asked.

"No. Well, maybe." Riley let out a frustrated sound. "I'm not explaining this well. It's more like... I'm protecting this thing between us. From becoming something that feels forced or expected. Does that make any sense?"

Joe thought about it. About how carefully he'd constructed his public persona, how deliberately he kept parts of himself private. About boundaries and walls and the way they sometimes protected the most valuable things.

"Yeah," he said finally. "It does."

The relief in Riley's voice was palpable. "It does?"

"I get having boundaries," Joe explained. "Keeping certain things separate. I just wish you'd told me why instead of me finding out through Instagram."

"I'm sorry," Riley said, sounding genuinely remorseful. "That must have felt shitty."

"It did," Joe agreed, but without heat. "Made me wonder if I was reading this whole thing wrong. If we weren't on the same page."

"We are," Riley assured him quickly. "At least, I think we are. This thing between us, it's... significant. For me, anyway."

"For me too," Joe admitted. The simple confession felt weightier than he'd expected, hanging in the air between them with a new kind of gravity.

"I should have just told you," Riley continued, her voice softer now. "But after Ethan... I got used to protecting myself. Keeping expectations low."

"You can talk to me about him, you know," Joe said carefully. "About what happened."

Riley was quiet for a moment. "Not much to tell. Three years of back and forth. Great when it was good, toxic when it wasn't. Classic musician relationship drama."

"Sounds exhausting," Joe observed.

"It was," Riley agreed. "That's why I'm trying to be more... I don't know, intentional? About not repeating patterns."

Another silence, but this one comfortable, expectant rather than tense.

"So now that I know," Joe said finally, "can I wish you happy birthday? Or is that still crossing a line?"

He could hear the smile in Riley's voice when she answered. "You can wish me happy birthday. Just don't make a big deal about it."

"Noted," Joe said, a smile forming on his own lips. "Happy almost birthday, Riley."

"Thank you," she murmured. Then, with a hint of teasing, "Are you still mad at me?"

Joe considered this. "I wasn't mad. Just... confused. Hurt, maybe."

"I really am sorry," Riley said again. "I overthink things sometimes."

"I noticed," Joe said dryly.

Riley laughed, the sound flowing through him like warm honey. "Shut up. You overthink things too."

"Maybe," Joe conceded. "But I'm working on it."

The conversation shifted then, becoming easier as they slipped back into their usual rhythm. Riley told him about the vineyard, about Roberto and Gina, about the medieval village they'd visited that day. Joe shared stories from his training session, from dinner with his parents the night before.

It was nearly an hour later when Riley's voice had grown soft with approaching sleep.

"I should let you go," Joe said reluctantly. "It's late there."

"Mmm," Riley agreed, stifling a yawn. "This bed is ridiculous. Like sleeping on a cloud."

"Wish I was there," Joe said, the words slipping out before he could consider them.

There was a pause, and when Riley spoke again, her voice was warm, intimate. "I wish you were too."

Joe's chest tightened with something that felt dangerously close to longing. "Next time," he said softly.

"Promise?" Riley asked, and beneath the playfulness, there was vulnerability.

"Promise," Joe replied without hesitation.

After they hung up, Joe sat for a long time in the quiet of his bedroom, staring at the dark screen of his phone. The hurt from earlier had dissolved, replaced by a clearer understanding. Riley's fear wasn't about keeping him at a distance—it was about protecting whatever was growing between them. From expectation, from obligation, from anything that might damage its natural evolution.

He could understand that. Respect it, even.

Still, as he finally settled down to sleep, a plan was already forming in his mind. Birthday or not, significance or not, some things deserved to be acknowledged. And he knew exactly how he wanted to do it.

In Italy, Riley curled onto her side, Joe's LSU bracelet still on her wrist as she drifted toward sleep. The weight that had been pressing on her chest all day had lifted, replaced by a warm contentment. He'd understood. More than that, he'd listened, really listened, to her fumbling explanation.

For the first time in longer than she could remember, Riley fell asleep with a smile on her face, the distance between Italy and Cincinnati feeling somehow less vast than it had that morning.

Joe stared at his laptop screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Google Maps had led him to a florist in Ripatransone, the nearest town to Roberto and Gina's vineyard based on Riley's descriptions. But the website was entirely in Italian, with no obvious way to place an international order.

"Dammit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. It was 4:30 AM in Cincinnati—the middle of the night for him, but a reasonable morning hour in Italy. Riley's birthday was tomorrow, which left him little time to arrange something special.

He reached for his phone and called the only person he knew who might help.

"This better be good, Burrow," Mark's sleep-roughened voice answered after four rings.

"I need a favor," Joe said without preamble.

A rustling sound came through the line—Mark sitting up in bed, probably. "At four-thirty in the morning?"

"It's not a football thing," Joe admitted.

There was a pause. "Riley?" Mark guessed.

"Yeah." Joe exhaled. "Her birthday's tomorrow. She's in Italy at some vineyard. I need to get flowers delivered there, but the websites are all in Italian and—"

"Jesus, Joe," Mark interrupted, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "You're calling me before dawn to help you send a girl flowers? Isn't this what Sarah is for?"

"Sarah doesn't have your connections," Joe said bluntly. "And I need someone who can make this happen, not just try."

Mark chuckled. "Well, well. Look who's serious." There was another pause, then Mark's voice softened slightly. "Not just any girl, huh?"

"No," Joe said quietly. "Not just any girl."

"Alright," Mark relented. "Give me the details. I know a guy who handles VIP concierge services in Europe."

Meanwhile, at the vineyard, Riley woke to Laura bouncing onto her bed, already dressed in jeans and a light sweater.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Laura announced, nudging Riley's shoulder. "Gina's making that almond french toast you love."

Riley groaned, burying her face in the pillow. "What time is it?"

"Nearly nine," Laura replied. "Practically lunchtime by normal standards."

Riley smiled despite herself, remembering their conversation last night. The tension that had been building since their stilted texts had melted away during their call. He'd understood—really understood—why she hadn't told him about her birthday.

"Actually," Riley said, sitting up and stretching, "Joe and I talked last night. After everyone went to bed."

Laura's eyebrows shot up with interest. "And? You seem less... I don't know, twitchy today."

"We sorted it out," Riley said, sliding out of bed. "He found out about my birthday through Haley's Instagram post."

"Told you he would," Laura said, not bothering to hide her smugness. "So how'd he take it?"

Riley paused, thinking about the unexpected depth of their conversation. "Better than I expected. He actually got why I hadn't told him."

"Hmm," Laura hummed, studying Riley's face. "Maybe he has more emotional depth than I gave him credit for."

Riley threw a pillow at her friend. "Come on, I need coffee before you start analyzing my love life with Haley and Gina."

Laura dodged the pillow with practiced ease, laughing as she stood up. "Fine, fine. But don't think this conversation is over. Gina's going to extract every detail over breakfast."

"Great," Riley said dryly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "At least there'll be food to distract me from the interrogation."

The kitchen was already bustling when they made their way downstairs. Morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the weathered wooden table where Bob was setting down a platter of fresh fruit. Gina stood at the stove, flipping what looked like her famous almond French toast, while Pete lounged at the counter nursing a cup of coffee.

"The birthday girl arrives!" Gina announced, abandoning her post to envelop Riley in a warm hug that smelled of cinnamon and butter. "Many happy returns, my dear one."

"Thanks, Gina," Riley said, feeling the familiar warm glow that always came with birthdays at the vineyard. Here, birthdays were simple, joyful celebrations—good food, good wine, good company. No pressure, no expectations.

"I made your favorite," Gina said, gesturing to the French toast. "And Bob picked fresh figs this morning."

Riley's stomach growled appreciatively as she accepted the steaming mug of coffee Pete handed her. "You guys spoil me."

"It's your birthday," Pete shrugged, his voice still rough with sleep. "Only happens once a year."

"Speaking of which," Haley said, emerging from the pantry with a jar of honey, "how did lover boy take the news?"

Riley shot Laura an accusatory glance, but her friend just shrugged innocently. "News travels fast around here."

"He took it just fine," Riley said, trying to sound casual as she doctored her coffee. "We talked it out. He understood."

"He understood?" Andy repeated skeptically, appearing in the doorway. His hair was still wet from the shower, sticking up at odd angles. "What guy 'understands' being kept in the dark about something like that?"

"A guy who listens," Riley said, surprising herself with the certainty in her voice. "He got why I didn't tell him."

After a leisurely breakfast punctuated by laughter and stories—many at Riley's expense—they gathered in the sunlit kitchen where Gina was putting the finishing touches on a homemade birthday cake. The simple elegance of the tradition—good food, good company, no fuss about presents—was exactly why Riley loved celebrating here.

"Every year I try to outdo myself," Gina said, carefully placing fresh strawberries around the edge of the cream-frosted cake. "This year, I add the lemon zest to the cream. You tell me if it's better."

"It's perfect already," Riley said, leaning against the counter and stealing a stray strawberry.

Bob appeared from his study, carrying a small package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine. "From Gina and me," he said, presenting it to Riley with a warm smile. "Nothing fancy, but we thought of you when we saw it."

Riley unwrapped it carefully to reveal a handmade leather journal, its cover soft and worn like it had been waiting years just for her.

"For your songs," Gina explained. "You always say you lose your ideas on scraps of paper."

"I don't lose them," Riley protested with a laugh. "I just... temporarily misplace them."

As they were preparing to move to the terrace for cake, the sound of tires on gravel announced a visitor. Bob went to investigate, returning moments later with a delivery man bearing an enormous arrangement of sunflowers and wildflowers.

"For Signorina Carter," the man announced, presenting the bouquet with a flourish.

Riley's breath caught. The flowers were stunning—vibrant yellows and purples, arranged with sprigs of fragrant herbs and local blooms. Not roses or lilies or anything formally romantic, but wildflowers that seemed to capture the essence of the Tuscan countryside.

"Who are they from?" Haley asked, eyes wide.

Riley's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the small card nestled among the blooms.

Riley — Happy Birthday. Not making a big deal about it, just acknowledging it exists. The flowers reminded me of you — wild, colorful, impossible to ignore. Talk soon. — Joe

Something warm and unexpected bloomed in Riley's chest. He'd found the perfect middle ground—acknowledging her birthday without the grand gesture she'd feared, sending something meaningful without making it excessive.

"Those are from the football boy?" Gina asked, peering over Riley's shoulder at the card.

Riley nodded, not trusting her voice at that moment.

"He has good taste," Gina declared. "Elegant but not too formal. Shows he knows you."

"Well," Laura said simply, watching Riley's face carefully. "Looks like your worry was for nothing."

Riley pressed the card to her chest, unable to suppress her smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

As the others exclaimed over the flowers—Bob particularly impressed that Joe had managed to arrange a delivery to their remote location—Riley slipped away to call Joe. It was early in Cincinnati, but she couldn't wait. 

He answered on the third ring, his voice clear and energized. "Hey, birthday girl." 

"Joe," Riley said, words failing her for a moment. "They're beautiful."

"You like them?" The hint of uncertainty in his voice made her heart clench. 

"I love them," she said softly. "But how did you even arrange this? We're in the middle of nowhere, Italy." 

Joe's low chuckle warmed her from the inside out. "I know a guy who knows a guy."

"Of course you do." 

"Not too much?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. "I was trying to find the middle ground." 

"Perfect," Riley assured him. "Just right." 

There was a comfortable silence, filled with things unsaid but understood. 

"I wish you were here," Riley said softly, the words slipping out before she could consider them. 

"Yeah," Joe agreed, his voice rough with something like longing. "Me too." 

"So," Joe asked after a moment, "what's the birthday plan today?"

“Bob’s making his famous dinner tonight,” Riley said, leaning against the stone wall as she glanced back toward the kitchen, where Bob was already barking instructions at anyone who dared wander too close. “He spends all day in there, everything from scratch. By the time he’s done, we’re practically rolling out of our chairs.”

“Sounds like my kind of meal,” Joe said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Oh, it’s serious business,” Riley continued. “And after we’ve eaten enough to put us in a food coma, the real entertainment starts.”

“Which is?”

“Karaoke.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of last year, when Bob had dragged Andy onstage for an off-key rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody.” “These two mild-mannered vineyard owners turn into absolute karaoke monsters after a few glasses of their own wine. Bob will break out the grappa, and before you know it, Gina’s belting out power ballads like her life depends on it.”

Joe chuckled, and she could hear the genuine amusement in his voice. “Even you?”

“Especially me,” Riley admitted, feeling her face warm. “Something about being offstage, in a place where it doesn’t matter, makes it more fun. Besides, they’ll guilt-trip you into it if you try to refuse. It’s just easier to give in.”

“What’s your go-to song?”

“Depends how much wine I’ve had,” Riley said, grinning. “Early in the night, it’s usually something respectable. Like Janis Joplin or Fleetwood Mac. But by midnight… I’m making questionable decisions. Last year, I tried to do Whitney Houston, and it was… ambitious.”

Joe laughed, and it sent warmth flooding through her chest. “You got videos to back up this story?”

“Oh, plenty,” Riley shot back. “I’ll send you some evidence later. Fair warning—it could seriously damage my professional reputation.”

“Can’t wait,” Joe said, and there was that familiar, easy warmth in his tone again. “You better deliver.”

“Trust me, it’s unforgettable,” she teased. “Mostly because Bob’s grappa is like drinking paint thinner. By the time it’s my turn to sing, I’m half convinced I’m hitting every note.”

“Sounds like I’m missing out,” Joe said, his voice going softer.

“You are,” Riley admitted, the words slipping out before she could catch them. “Next time.”

“Next time,” Joe echoed, and she could hear the weight of it, like he was tucking the promise away somewhere safe.

Bob's special birthday dinner exceeded even Riley's high expectations. The long wooden table on the terrace overflowed with traditional Italian dishes—handmade pasta with wild boar ragu, platters of local cheeses and cured meats, roasted vegetables drizzled with the estate's own olive oil, and bread still warm from the oven. The wine flowed freely, each bottle accompanied by Bob's passionate explanation of its origin and character.

As they finished the final course, Gina emerged from the kitchen with a simple but elegant cake adorned with fresh berries and a single candle.

"Make a wish, cara," she instructed as she set it before Riley.

Riley closed her eyes briefly, the image of Joe appearing unbidden in her mind before she blew out the candle to cheers and applause.

Laura raised her glass. "To Riley—the only person I know who manages to be wildly successful while still being the same disaster we all love. Happy birthday!"

"To Riley!" echoed around the table.

After dessert and coffee, when everyone was pleasantly full and warm with wine, Bob disappeared into a back room and returned with a clear bottle of liquid and a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"It is time," he announced dramatically, "for the birthday grappa!"

"Oh no," Andy groaned, though his eyes were alight with anticipation. "Not the grappa."

"Always the grappa," Bob corrected, already pouring small glasses for everyone. "And then—karaoke!"

The karaoke setup was charmingly makeshift—an old television connected to a basic system with two microphones and speakers that had seen better days. But what it lacked in sophistication, it made up for in spirit.

Gina, predictably, went first, her accent thickening as she belted out a passionate rendition of a power ballad, arms spread wide as if performing at an arena instead of their dining room.

"The birthday girl must do a solo!" Bob insisted, already scrolling through the karaoke selections.

"No way," Riley protested, though without much conviction. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for a solo."

"That can be arranged," Bob winked, already refilling her glass.

Riley took the offered grappa, wincing slightly as she swallowed. "Fine, but I get to pick the song."

She scrolled through the surprisingly extensive catalog until she found exactly what she was looking for, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. The familiar synthetic pop intro filled the room, and her friends erupted in laughter and cheers.

"Of course!" Laura shouted, already clapping along. "Perfect choice!"

Riley grabbed the microphone, tossing her hair dramatically as she slipped into performance mode. Unlike her stage presence with the band, this was pure fun—exaggerated movements, playful expressions, and zero concern for technical perfection.

She pointed dramatically at her friends during the verses, using her phone as a prop, completely hamming it up. By the time she hit the chorus, she was dancing around the makeshift stage area, her earlier hesitation completely forgotten in the joy of the moment.

Everyone joined in for the chorus, shouting the iconic "Call me maybe" line while Riley conducted them with sweeping gestures. Bob was recording the whole thing on his phone, swaying enthusiastically while Gina clapped in perfect rhythm beside him.

"Bob's 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' last year nearly brought down the house," Laura called out, leaning toward Riley. "Literally - he knocked over that antique vase during the dramatic finale!"

"It was worth it!" Bob declared proudly, not missing a beat as he continued recording Riley's performance.

Andy jumped up to join Riley for the bridge, the two of them back-to-back in an improvised choreography that suggested they'd done this before. Haley and Laura provided enthusiastic backup vocals, complete with synchronized hand movements.

As Riley launched into the final chorus, she was laughing too hard to hit the notes properly, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about skill—it was about joy, about being surrounded by people who loved her exactly as she was, ridiculous dance moves and all.

When the song ended, she took an exaggerated bow to thunderous applause and whistles. Bob immediately wrapped her in a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.

"Bravissima!" he declared. "Now this is how you celebrate a birthday!"

Riley collapsed onto the couch, breathless and laughing, accepting another glass of wine from Laura.

"I'm definitely sending that to Joe," Haley teased, waving her phone where she'd captured the entire performance.

"Don't you dare," Riley protested, making a half-hearted grab for the phone, but her smile gave her away. Maybe she wouldn't mind if Joe saw this side of her—carefree and ridiculous, surrounded by the people who knew her best.

As the night continued with more performances—Andy's surprisingly tender rendition of an old blues standard, Pete and Laura's dramatically choreographed duet—Riley found herself taking out her own phone. Before she could overthink it, she scrolled to a short clip of her performance that Laura had sent to their group chat and attached it to a message to Joe.

Riley: Birthday karaoke in full swing. Grappa is dangerous. Miss you.

She hit send before she could second-guess the last two words, then set her phone aside, rejoining the celebration. Tonight was about being present with the people here, but that didn't mean she couldn't share a small piece of it with the person who'd somehow worked his way into her thoughts even from thousands of miles away.

Back in Cincinnati, Joe was in the middle of a late-night film session when his phone lit up with Riley's message. The video of last season's playoff game against Buffalo paused on his laptop screen as he reached for his phone, a small smile forming when he saw her name.

He studied the short clip she'd sent—Riley performing with theatrical abandon, clearly enjoying herself in a way that was different from her professional performances. This was Riley unguarded, surrounded by people who knew her best, slightly drunk on what he assumed was the infamous grappa she'd mentioned. Considering it was probably 2 AM in Italy, the celebration was clearly in full swing.

But it was the last two words that caught him off guard: "Miss you."

Joe stared at those words longer than the video itself, something warm spreading through his chest. His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating his response. The structured, careful part of him—the part that had gotten him this far in his career—wanted to keep things light. But another part, the one that had been growing steadily since meeting Riley, pushed for honesty.

Miss you too. More than makes sense.

He hit send before he could overthink it, then set the phone down, running a hand through his hair as he tried to refocus on the game film. But his thoughts kept drifting to Riley—to her laugh, to the vineyard she'd described, to the way she'd looked at him before leaving for the airport.

With a sigh, Joe closed his laptop. The Buffalo game could wait until morning. He glanced around his pristine living room, at the careful order he maintained in every aspect of his life. His home was his sanctuary, his private space—one he rarely invited others into. Even teammates seldom made it past the front door.

An idea took shape, one that surprised even him with its unexpectedness. What if, instead of Riley going back to LA after Italy, she came here? To Cincinnati. To his home.

The thought made him pause. Bringing someone into his space, into the carefully ordered world he'd created for himself—it wasn't something he did lightly. With previous relationships, he'd maintained separation, keeping his personal sanctuary untouched. But with Riley, the idea of her here, in his space, didn't trigger his usual resistance.

It felt right. Necessary, even.

Joe picked up his phone again, no message from Riley yet. She was probably still lost in the karaoke party with her friends and the vineyard owners. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he'd call her and ask her to come to Cincinnati. The idea transformed from impulsive thought to deliberate decision as he stood, something almost like anticipation building in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again—here, in the space that was most authentically his.

Afternoon sunlight flooded Riley's room at the vineyard, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay by drawing the heavy shutters. She groaned softly, the aftermath of Bob's notorious grappa making itself known with a dull throb behind her eyes. Memories of last night's karaoke session flooded back—Gina's dramatic power ballads, Andy's surprisingly decent Frank Sinatra impression, and her own enthusiastic performance that she'd impulsively shared with Joe.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Riley fumbled for it, squinting at the screen. Joe's name appeared, and she felt a flutter of something warm beneath her hangover. She cleared her throat before answering.

"Hey, quarterback," she managed, voice still rough despite the late hour.

"Did I wake you?" Joe asked, his voice clear and alert. Of course he'd already been up for hours.

"No," Riley lied, pushing herself up against the headboard. "Well, maybe. What time is it there?"

"Just after nine," Joe replied. "Afternoon for you, right?"

Riley glanced at the time. Almost 2 PM. "Yeah, but time works differently in Italy. Especially after grappa."

Joe's low chuckle came through the line. "Looked like you were having fun last night."

"I may have gotten a little carried away," Riley admitted, smiling at the memory. "Did I embarrass myself with that video?"

"Not at all," Joe assured her. "I liked seeing that side of you."

A comfortable silence settled between them before Joe spoke again, his tone shifting slightly.

"So, I've been thinking," he began, and something in his voice made Riley sit up straighter. "What if you didn't go back to LA after Italy?"

Riley's breath caught. "What do you mean?"

"Come to Cincinnati instead," Joe clarified. "Just for a few days. Before you have to be back in the studio."

The question hung between them, weighted with implication. This wasn't just a casual invitation—it was Joe opening his world to her, asking her to step into his carefully ordered life.

"I'd have to change my flight," Riley said, already mentally calculating what that would involve.

"I could take care of that," Joe offered, then paused. "If you wanted."

Riley stared out the window at the rolling hills of Le Marche, turning the idea over in her mind. Going to Cincinnati meant something more significant than their weekend in New Orleans. That had been neutral territory, a Mardi Gras bubble. This would be Joe's home turf, his real life.

"What would we do in Cincinnati?" she asked, stalling for time.

"I have some ideas," Joe said, a hint of something warmer in his voice. "Things you might like. Or we could just... be. No itinerary. No expectations."

No expectations. The words echoed in Riley's mind, reminding her of their conversation about her birthday. Joe had understood her hesitation then, had found the perfect middle ground. She trusted him to do the same now.

"Joe Burrow without an itinerary?" she teased, deflecting slightly. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I can be spontaneous," he protested mildly. "Sometimes."

Riley laughed, the sound carrying over the hillside. "Name one spontaneous thing you've done this year that wasn't related to me."

The silence on the other end was telling.

"That's what I thought," Riley said, smiling into the phone.

"So is that a yes?" Joe's voice was hopeful but not pushing.

Riley took a deep breath. The sensible answer was no. She had sessions scheduled, meetings with the label about release strategy, a half-dozen other commitments waiting in LA. But none of it felt as important as the possibility contained in Joe's invitation.

"Yes," she said finally. "I'd like that."

Even through the phone, she could feel his smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Riley confirmed, a flutter of something like excitement coursing through her. "But I'm warning you now, I'm terrible at packing. I'll probably show up with completely inappropriate clothing for whatever you have planned."

"Noted," Joe said, relief and pleasure evident in his voice. "I'll send the flight details tomorrow."

They talked a little longer, making loose plans. When they finally hung up, Riley sat for a moment longer, staring out at the vineyard. The decision felt momentous somehow, a deliberate step toward something rather than her usual pattern of letting things unfold around her.

Laura's voice interrupted her thoughts as she appeared in the doorway. "Well? What's got you smiling like that?"

"I'm going to Cincinnati instead of LA," Riley admitted, still processing it herself.

Laura's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? When did this happen?"

"Just now," Riley said, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "He called and asked, and it just... felt right."

Laura studied her friend's face, taking a thoughtful sip of her wine. "You two barely know each other, but I haven't seen you light up like this in a long time."

Riley looked out at the vineyard, then back to Laura with a half-shrug. "It's different with him. I can't explain it exactly. It's like..." she paused, searching for the words. "It's like we're from completely different worlds, but somehow it works."

"Must be," Laura agreed, her expression softening as she studied Riley's face. "It's nice, you know."

"What is?"

"Seeing you like this again. Open." Laura's eyes were knowing. "After Ethan, you've been so..."

"Closed off?" Riley supplied.

"I was going to say selective about who gets past the stage persona," Laura corrected gently. "That's not like you. You've always been the one who dives in headfirst."

Riley didn't have to ask what she meant. After Ethan, she'd built walls around certain parts of herself. She'd still been Riley—still impulsive, still adventurous in almost every aspect of her life—but when it came to letting someone in, really in, she'd kept the door firmly shut.

But Joe had somehow slipped through that defense without even trying. From that first conversation in New York, there had been something about him that made her want to let him see the real her, not just the version she showed the world.

Laura nudged her shoulder. "Pete's going to give you so much shit about this."

Riley groaned, already imagining the teasing she'd endure from her bandmates. "Worth it," she decided.

Laura nudged her shoulder. "Pete's going to give you so much shit about this."

Riley groaned, already imagining the teasing she'd endure from her bandmates. "Worth it," she decided.

Haley appeared in the doorway, holding a glass of wine. "Worth what? Did I miss something important?"

"Only Riley deciding to go to Cincinnati instead of LA," Laura said with exaggerated casualness.

Haley's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Just like that?"

Riley pointed accusingly at Laura. "Don't make it sound so impulsive. It's just for a few days."

"Everything you do is impulsive," Haley countered, entering the room fully. She glanced at Riley's chaotic packing situation and winced. "So what are you planning to wear in Cincinnati?"

Riley looked down at her mess of clothes. "I mean, it's cold here too. I've got warm stuff."

"You have two sweaters, both of which you've worn repeatedly without washing," Haley pointed out. "And that leather jacket with the broken zipper."

"I'll make it work," Riley shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to Antarctica."

"No, just Cincinnati," Laura said. "Where it's probably exactly as cold as it is here, but you'll have even fewer clothing options because most of what you brought is dirty."

Riley tossed a bundled pair of socks at her. "I'll figure it out. Maybe do some emergency laundry before I leave."

"Or you could just buy something there," Haley suggested practically.

"Or steal his clothes," Laura added with a smirk.

"Shut up, both of you," Riley laughed, but there was no heat in it.

Haley sat on the edge of the bed. "Football boy must be pretty special if you're willing to show up with half a functional wardrobe."

Riley didn't deny it, which made both Laura and Haley exchange knowing looks.

"Hey," Laura said, noticing Riley's contemplative expression. "You good with this? Really?"

Riley thought about Joe—his quiet confidence, his thoughtfulness, the way he'd somehow understood exactly what she needed for her birthday.

"Yeah," she said softly, certainty settling over her like a blanket. "I'm good with this."

Haley raised her glass in a toast. "Then I'm happy for you. Even if your packing skills remain atrocious."

Back in Cincinnati, Joe set his phone down and leaned back against his kitchen counter, a slow smile spreading across his face. Riley was coming here. To his city. His home.

The realization sent an unexpected surge of anticipation through him. He glanced around his Indian Hill home—the tasteful modern furnishings, the organized spaces, the large windows overlooking the lake. The house was massive—far bigger than what he really needed. It had never struck him as incomplete before, mostly because he never gave it much thought. It was a place to sleep, eat, and decompress when he had the rare off day. Functional. Efficient. Nothing unnecessary.

But now, imagining Riley here, he saw it through new eyes.

Would she find it too impersonal? The contrast with her vibrant New Orleans home was stark. Her space had felt lived-in, full of stories and meaning in every corner. His was beautiful but… unfinished. As though he’d moved in but never fully unpacked the parts of himself that would transform it from a house into a home.

Joe pushed off from the counter, walking through the rooms with a more critical eye. He pulled up a saved tab on his phone—the high-end turntable he’d researched obsessively after returning from New Orleans but hadn’t pulled the trigger on buying. Now there was a reason to finally make the purchase.

He picked up his phone, texting his assistant, Sarah.

Joe: Need a few things ASAP - high-end turntable delivered by Wednesday.

He screenshot the Pro-Ject model he’d been eyeing and sent it.

Joe: This one. Also need speakers—something good, but not obnoxious-looking. And a console table for it—don’t care what it looks like, just make it go with the house.

He paused, then added:

Joe: Also need warm clothes (women’s S/M) for someone coming from Italy. Cincinnati weather appropriate. Details tomorrow.

The response came almost immediately.

Sarah: On it. Any specific brands/style preferences for the clothes?

Joe: I have no idea. She wears vintage stuff. Just get options.

Sarah: Got it. Budget?

Joe: Whatever it takes.

Joe suddenly realized something and quickly typed another message.

Joe: Also need records. For the turntable.

Sarah: What kind of records?

Joe stared at his phone. Shit.

Joe: Fuck, I don’t know, Sarah. What do cool people listen to on vinyl?

Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.

Sarah: Turntable and vinyl? Whatever you’re doing, you’re really going for it, huh?

Joe: Yeah. Need help.

Sarah: This must be serious. I’m both concerned and entertained.

Joe: Not helpful, Sarah. You’re fired.

Sarah: You’re not firing me. You’d never put in the effort to train someone new, and you know it.

Joe: Fine. Not fired. But please help with the records.

Sarah: I know a guy at the record store. I’ll get you a “tastefully eclectic collection that doesn’t try too hard.” His words, not mine.

Joe: Perfect. Thanks.

Sarah: First turntables, now records. She must be something.

Joe: Don't worry about that.

Joe stared at the message for a long moment.

Joe: She is.

Strangely, the thought didn’t fill him with the usual anxiety that came with disruptions to his routine. Instead, it felt… energizing. Like Riley’s impending visit was bringing color to a part of his life that had been stuck in shades of gray for too long.

For the first time, his house didn’t quite feel like home—but maybe that was because home was becoming something different altogether. Something he was just beginning to understand.

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 16/?

Prev | Next

Danny did not want to wake up. He wanted to go back to sleep and pretend his life hadn’t changed so drastically, so quickly. He sighed heavily and got up.

Danny dressed as he contemplated how much his life had changed and how much more it would. He knew what the DNA test would show—his connection to Bruce Wayne—but he didn’t know how it would impact his everyday life.

Then there was Damian. His older twin seemed hellbent on having Danny back in his life, but Danny wanted no part of the Heir or their so-called father. He wanted to be left alone with his family—the one he found. Danny’s feet dragged as he went down the stairs. His parents and sister were already at the bottom, waiting for him.

Jazz smiled weakly at him and hugged him. His dad was somber and quiet, unlike his usual boisterous self. His mom’s face appeared blank, though her cheeks and eyes were red; she had been crying.

Danny was walking toward the door when his mom stopped him, “Danny, no matter what this test says, you are a Fenton. More than that, you are our son. We won’t ever let you go or stop fighting for you. Understood?”

Danny’s vision was blurry as he tackled his mom into a hug.

“Thanks. You’re the only family I have ever had or will ever need.”

Danny felt his dad’s big, warm hand on his back.

Everything would turn out fine; if it didn’t, Danny would fight for his family and happiness.

No one in Bruce’s family got the opportunity to sleep that night. Tim and Damian accompanied him to the meeting with the Justice League, while his other children remained behind to research more about the laws, ghosts, and Amity Park.

“I think you can stay while I do this DNA test,” Bruce said as he observed his children at various stages of fatigue. “Not everyone needs to be there, and I believe it will make things easier for Danny if he isn’t overwhelmed by the entire family.”

“I’m coming,” Damian announced.

“The rest of us can stay here, Bruce,” Dick said. “Besides, we need to rest. When you return, we can discuss whether or not we want to tell the Fentons about our nightlife.”

“I do not understand why we’re even contemplating telling these people our secret. They don’t need to know.” Damian said while scowling.

“They’re Danny’s family, baby bat, and if we want to cement a relationship, it’s better to go with open arms. We know all their secrets. Why shouldn’t they know ours?”

“They’re a menace to society. Besides, we’re Danyal’s family.”

“Family can encompass more than one group, Damian; you know this. Besides, Danny doesn’t view it that way,” Bruce explained.

Damian’s scowl deepened. He crossed his arms in defiance and turned his face away from Bruce.

Bruce sighed. Damian would have to accept Danny’s wishes sooner rather than later if he wanted Danny to begin even considering building anything with them. Everyone, including Damian, had hurt him, and he wanted to stay with the Fentons. The least they could do was grant him that request, but Damian had a misguided need to bring Danny back with them. Not for the first time, Bruce wished he could find Talia to shake some sense into her. They wouldn't be in this situation if she hadn’t kept his children from him.

Bruce tried to convince Damian one more time.

“Damian, please, I think it would be better if you stayed. Danny doesn’t want to be in this situation, and bringing more people could remind him that he has little control over the situation.”

Damian looked Bruce straight in the eye, “I’m going, whether you think it’s a good idea or not.”

Bruce breathed through his nose to calm himself. Damian could be like Bruce at times: a stubborn brat.

And Bruce, like the coward he was, would let him continue being so.

Danny’s scowl mirrored Damian’s earlier one when they left the private clinic where they had done the DNA test.

As a matter of fact, the scowl had been there since he saw them earlier.

Bruce could tell Damian felt terrible because of his brother’s frosty demeanor. Bruce had no idea what to do in this situation. Why did he have to be so emotionally inept? He could figure out any of Riddler’s riddles or find the murderer of a twenty-year-old cold case, but he couldn’t figure out how to navigate feelings to help his children.

He had never felt like more of a failure.

“The test results should be back in forty-eight hours. I made the staff sign an NDA agreement so there won’t be any nosy reporters. At least, not yet; these types of news tend to get out eventually. We have to sit down and find out what we want to tell the public.”

“To grab a hold of the narrative,” Jazz said.

“Exactly.”

“Let’s wait for the test results. Then we can talk about these things,” Maddie said while pushing the children away from them.

“Wait, Danyal, please. I want to talk to you.”

Danny’s face went blank. He turned his back to Damian and walked toward the Fenton’s weapon on wheels, ignoring his twin. Danny opened the RV’s door and went inside.

“Give him time,” Jazz whispered.

“Don’t tell me what to do, interloper.”

Jazz didn’t react, but her parents did.

“Mr. Wayne, please control your son,” Maddie admonished, “We’ll call you as soon as we see the results.”

Bruce turned toward Damian as soon as he lost sight of the RV.

“Forcing Danny to do anything will not make him want a relationship with you, Damian. You need to listen when we say that if Danny wants nothing to do with us, we have to respect his wishes. That includes you. All you’re doing right now is antagonizing him.”

“Really, father, you have no leg to stand on regarding relationship advice. Familial or otherwise.”

Bruce stared at Damian. It was true he wasn’t the best with relationships, but he didn’t want his son to make similar mistakes he had made. Maybe he could get Dick to talk to Damian; he tended to be able to get through to Damian.

Bruce was about to say something when an explosion rattled the street.

It had come from the direction the Fentons had gone.

[amirasainz]

Hello there. I love your work. I was wondering if you could write one where baby sainz is pregnant with charles and alexandra baby.

Oh my god. This was so hard to write. I hope I did an okay-ish job. My requests are always open! Enjoy reading! -XoXo

The Pregnancy

Amira’s heart raced as she stared at the positive pregnancy test. She was only 21, and her relationship with Alex and Charles was still in its early stages—just five months old. How could this be happening? Tears streamed down her face as she sat on the toilet seat, overwhelmed by the news.

Unaware of her distress, the apartment door swung open. “Dove, we’re back home!” Alex’s voice echoed through the hallway. She exchanged a puzzled glance with Charles when they received no response. Concerned, they called out to her again. “Jolie fille? Are you here?”

Then they heard it—the heartbreaking sniffles coming from the bathroom. Without hesitation, they rushed to the door. There, they found their beautiful Amira, tears staining her cheeks. “Oh my god, baby, what happened?” Alex and Charles approached her, their worry evident. They immediately ran to her, took her in their arms and whispers sweet nothings in french in her ear. "Tout va bien, mon amour" or "Je t'ai, bébé" was the things she heard. Sometimes Charles would even say "Niente può ferirti, amore mio".

Amira’s sobs subsided after what felt like an eternity. Charles cradled her face in his hands, gently wiping away her tears. “What’s wrong, bébé?” Alex asked once more. Instead of answering, Amira held up the positive test, her emotions laid bare.

She had mentally prepared herself for a difficult conversation—a potential breakup, perhaps. But what unfolded surprised her. Alex and Charles erupted in joy, hugging her tightly and peppering her cheeks with kisses. “Oh honey, you have no idea how happy you make us,” Alex exclaimed.

“You’re not mad at me?” Amira whispered, her voice trembling.

Charles grinned, leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Of course not, mon amour. After all, it takes three to make a baby.” His wink was playful, and Amira felt a rush of relief. She was no longer alone; she had her partners by her side. And in that moment, despite the unexpected circumstances, she felt a warmth that eclipsed any fear. What unfolded now was a nine moths journey.

Ah, the joys and challenges of pregnancy! Emotions running wild, cravings taking unexpected turns—Amira’s journey was far from ordinary. But nestled within those moments were the seeds of a beautiful story—a tale of love, anticipation, and shared dreams.

Charles and Alexandra, devoted partners, reveled in the miracle unfolding before them. Their princess, Amira, carried their future—a tiny life nestled within her. The princess treatment they bestowed upon her was more precious than any crown. They doted on her, their attentiveness unwavering.

Charles, ever the thoughtful one, brought home gifts—a tangible expression of his love for his three favorite people. Sometimes it was a soft blanket for cozy nights, a whimsical mobile for the nursery, or a book of bedtime stories to read aloud. Each gift held a promise: “We’re in this together.”

And Alex? Well, she took on a new role—the fashion curator for Amira. It was common knowledge that Amira Sainz was a stunning woman. But pregnancy transformed her—radiance multiplied a thousandfold. She floated through sunny days in pretty summer dresses, her baby bump a testament to life’s magic. Alex’s choices were impeccable, accentuating her glow. The two of them weren't able to look away from their pretty girl.

Their protectiveness knew no bounds. Amira wasn’t allowed to step out of a room without at least one of them by her side. Shared showers became intimate moments—her baby bump a delightful obstacle, yet they navigated it with care. The warmth of water, the closeness of skin—these were the memories etched into their hearts.

At night, they cocooned her. Alex half beneath her, Charles spooned against her back. Their hands rested on her belly, feeling the flutter of life within. They whispered promises to their unborn child, their love a lullaby. And if anyone dared approach their Amira, they wedged themselves between her and the world. No one touched their perfect girl without permission.

Amira’s pregnancy was a symphony of emotions, cravings, and shared laughter. She had the best of both worlds—the thrill of Formula 1 and the tenderness of love. As the days counted down, they dreamed of tiny fingers and sleepy smiles. And when the moment arrived—their baby’s first cry echoing through the room—they knew their lives had changed forever.

Three hearts beating as one—a family forged on racetracks and whispered promises. Amira, Charles, and Alex—their love story had just begun.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

what did you think about wiege miss raven …

It was cute 🥰

BRO 💀 LUKA IS SO HOPELESSLY IN LOVE AND DOWN BAD FOR HYUNA… He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush when a GUN is pointed at his head??? Wanting to run to her and embrace her anyway, with zero regard for his own situation or how she might react negatively to him??? Kissing her missing poster (even though kissing isn’t really a thing in their society?) He’s literally SO mentally ill and obsessed with her… This is toxic and codependent het, I KNOW IT IS 👁️👄👁️

The song this time was admittedly not my favorite, honestly (its tone is sort of haunting)—but I love what it represents… A pure lullaby, holding all the hope for a peaceful and happy future. It’s probably one of the few songs Luka ever sang without intent to manipulate or harm his duet partner.

I loved seeing more gaps in the story being filled in!! Mizi after being rescued and Hyuna trying to calm her down, Hyunwoo’s presence in general, Hyuna competing in Alien Stage, Luka and the other children in Anakt Garden… Ooogh, and those flashes to an alternate universe where everyone is alive, well, and involved in their passions… Luka and Hyuna with their matching rings (not sure if they’re promise bands, engagement rings, or wedding rings)?? It was nice but I feel like I might not be as invested in their relationship if that AU lacks the ✨ spice ✨ of being enemies.

LITTLE LUKA WAS SO PRECIOUS BUT ALSO SUCH A LONER LOSER OTL Laying his head against her… Him sitting under that tree alone and huddled up, counting his fingers to pass the time… Hyuna casually joining him… The pure joy that brings him… Hyuna going in for what seems to be a hug, only for the scene to cut to her body slumping on his AFTER BEING SHOT WHILE PROTECTING HIM 💀 That was absolutely FOUL…

TILL, MY BELOVED SON… He didn’t show up a lot this song, but I loved seeing him having so much freedom and creativity. Spray painting, drawing, just acting like a Normal Human Being and not constantly lashing out and being violently subdued 💦 I always feel like I’ve been punched in the gut myself when he’s harmed. Poor guy… He deserves all the happiness in the world.

dhjsvajFagfDah DONmT yhINK i FORgoT MIZI eiThER. Girliepop is fr going through it??? Still having trauma visions of Sua… LOSING HYUNA NOW… and now she’s left with that fucker whose ass she beat in a fit of rage 😭 which does NOT bode well. THE MURDER IN MIzi’S EYES AT THE ENd, HOLY ShIT. I am half expecting the next installment to just be her wailing on Luka, maybe blaming him for what happened to Hyuna and still holding a grudge for using Sua’s death in such a despicable way.

Hyuna’s final words to Luka were so 👌 It wasn’t too long, it wasn’t too short… It was the perfect length and it conveyed everything she needed to tell him. How important he truly is to her, how she hates him because she loves him; he is and always was her one and only weakness, how all she wishes in her final moments is for Luka to live life to its fullest—even the ugly bits. That he should forgive himself and love himself no matter what…

“Luka, live with love. Embrace the pain, the frailty, and the moments so unbearably shameful. Forgive yourself… Again and again, endlessly. Because everything… begins from there.”

P.S. I feel like I definitely got lost on some parts of the story 😅 I wasn’t sure how to interpret that scene where Luka was covered in blood and there were a bunch of his dead clones (?) in tanks?? Is the implication supposed to be that the aliens were trying to make the perfect performer and the Luka we know now is the ideal test tube baby…? I see his hand on what appears to be a control panel of some kind?? So did he accidentally kill the clones?? And I’m not sure why the random gunman tried to shoot Luka. Isn’t Hyuna the leader of the resistance? Why didn’t she command them to stop? Why did she throw herself in harm’s way instead? Was it a spur of the moment or adrenaline fueled move? Did the gunman really dislike Luka or what he represents + want to kill him so badly they disregarded orders to let him go?

P.P.S. Sorry to Ivan fans… I do not have much to remark on other than the opinion I have always held, which is “Man has killer eyelashes.”

P.P.P.S. I actually didn’t cry! 👍 vxjsneksksk I live for angst like this, so I was eating it all up like a bag of chips.

Really looking forward to seeing where things will go from here on out! The resistance is lacking a leader now; will Mizi step up?! What’s going to happen to Luka, is he going to be taken as a hostage and slowly come around to join the resistance? How are the aliens going to retaliate? Will the competitor even continue at this rate? So many interesting questions!

[akutasoda]

title - 'you understand mechanical hands are the ruler of everything'

╰➜how does your relationship stand the test of time

dedicated to - robin!

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst?, sonnet length - 703

a/n: req by the lovely @strryskys <3 hope you're having a good day/night avery!!

when you started dating robin, you would have to be aware of a lot of things - anything ranging from her own status as an intergalactic star to everyday ups and downs. she would be extremely respectful of your privacy and her own, especially in the first stages of the relationship. at first, she would be extremely adamant on keeping your relationship out if the public's prying eyes. robin didn't need everyone knowing about her personal life, as difficult as that may be

and as your relationship progressed, she would ultimately listen to your request about the publicity of the relationship. if you preferred to keep it secret, robin would try her absolute hardest to help hide it from anyone that didn't need to know. but if you didn't mind, she still wouldn't go out of her way to show you off. if people found out, they found out - but she did secretly enjoy people knowing that she only had eyes for you.

a lot of sacrifices would have to be made on your end, some more voluntary than others. for example, she did travel around the cosmos quite often and she would love nothing more than for you to be there alongside her, but if you didn't want to she would respect your choice. instead she would stay with you whenever she could, and any strain that would put on the relationship would be dealt with in due time.

to her, you were always a comfort. someone that was a constant in her life no matter where she went - yes she had other people, namely her brother, but he was always so busy with business in penacony. robin adored having your presence alongside her, someone who helped her forget about any stress from the day and someone she could be herself around.

robin wouldn't have to worry about being robin the singer, no, with you she was just robin. robin who didn't have to worry about public image or anything to do with that, robin who could feel safe and loved. her personal life could often be the only place she could allow herself to let go and she wanted someone that respected this.

your relationship would be entirely a balanced one. if you were willing to put the effort in, so was she. robin needed you to be there and she would always be there for you in turn. she needed you to respect her schedules and lifestyle and she would respect yours, even trying to adapt more towards yours - a part of her was more keen to try and have a lifestyle away from constant spotlights.

however, to nobody's surprise, most of your issues in the relationship would stem from robin's profession. it kept her constantly busy, it was rare for her to always have a full day off regularly - most of the time she would have to make it clear she was taking a day off in advance. fortunately that was an issue that was easily overcome. the real issue came from the prying eyes of the public.

it was something neither of you could control. unfortunately, due to the fact that you were dating robin, someone would find out eventually whether you wanted them to or not - and from there, the news would spread like wildfire. everywhere you went, with robin or not, somebody would ask you about the relationship. the only way you could avoid getting asked questions would be if you went in disguise or robin helped you take security measures.

robin would feel bad about putting you through the unwanted attention of people that got way too interested in her personal life, but you would've been made well aware before you started dating.

however, any issues you two had were easily overcome or managed. as long as you both tried to make it work, it would. time could slip away and the two of you would barely notice as it wouldn't affect your relationship. yes, there would be a time that time would ultimately rip you two apart, but it wouldn't be prematurely.

[bengals-barnesbabe]

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Singer!FemReader

Summary: When the secret relationship between a famous singer and a popular quarterback is revealed no one could be happier. But when lyrics to an unreleased song are released, the strength of their relationship is questioned and tested when fans, reporters and exes start coming into the mix. Will you get your happy ending or is this the beginning of the end?

Chapter 13: 'i love you, goodnight' tour

#Track9 Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language.

Part One🖤

Word Count: 1.2k

Anxiety courses through your veins like hot lava as you wait for your name to be announced. You haven't done a live appearance like this since before you and Joe went public with your relationship, not one with an audience that is. During rehearsals Jimmy reassured you that it would be more fun than stressful, but that does not include the buildup to it. Usually you’d be texting or talking to Joey right now but he’s knee deep in meetings across the country so thats not an option. So its just you and your nerves.

“For tonight’s musical guest, we have the incredibly talented and beautiful Venus, she will be singing her latest single off of her new album ‘Tell Me You Love Me,’ everyone allow me to introduce Venus to the stage.”

 I guess that’s my cue.

Walking out to the lively applause and the smiling host helps you shed some of the nervousness that plagued you earlier. You and Jimmy share a quick hug before turning towards the audience and smiling and waving back.

“Venus, everyone. Wow, they might love you more than me.” He jokes as you both take your seats.

“Well, I love everyone here equally.” You wink at the audience causing a wave of laughter. ���Thank you so much for having me, Jimmy.”

“The pleasure is all mine, the last time you were here you had just won your first grammy’s and there was someone else with you backstage that we’re missing today.” He lightly smirked. Fantastic start right.

“Its crazy that it was only a little over a year ago when my life completely changed. Then even more so in the last few weeks, everything is absolutely insane and I wouldn't wish for it any other way.” You widely grinned, dusting off the last part of his question.

“Thats great,” he says then pulls up a photo of you at the SuperBowl. “You surprised everyone when you joined Usher at this year’s SuperBowl, tell us how this came about.”

Your eyes crinkled up as the memory flooded your brain. “Of course, so for those who don’t know Usher is one of the big industry people that discovered me way back when, so he’s been like my mentor ever since. He called me in about November and told me that he was going to

headlining it and I was ecstatic for him. It was about time we had an Atlanta centered show, and then he asked me if I wanted to join him. I immediately said yes, like Usher just asked me to perform with him, I don't care what stage we’re on or even the fact that I know him personally. The man is an absolute legend and it was an honor to share the stage with him. Being apart of his surprise guests was so exciting and I was starstruck the entire time.” 

“Thats incredible, you were amazing up there and I hope we see you headlining it someday.” He winked.

“Who knows what the future holds.” You chuckled.

Then a picture of you and a certain someone shows up on the screen behind you cause the audience to start hollering and your face to heat up a bit. “Oh what do we have here, I have no idea how that got up there.” You smiled then shook your head.

“I’m just going to ask the question and see how far you want to go. How did this happen, where did this romance come from?” He says hiding his face behind his cards.

“God, I’d like to say that I don’t know, but that’s not true. You can thank LSU for that, we met at the beginning of our senior year and became really fast friends. There was always some kind of attraction on both ends, but we didn’t do anything about that until two years later. And we’ve been together ever since.”

“That’s cute, you guys look great together. So were together during your first appearance?”

“Yea, he was backstage with me trying to stop me from freaking out about performing for y'all.” Everyone cracked up at that one.

“I don’t know how you could be nervous about this, you are absolutely killing it. Now lets talk about the album, this track 9 controversy, what happened?”

“My lack of media training happened,” you huffed. “Im joking, but not really. I was really excited to put out this project and even more ready to actually show the world who I dedicated it to. I worked on this album for a really long time, it was like journaling an adventure and the hardest part was finding a way to condense 5 years into one album. In the end, we were all satisfied with what we made then what I thought was going to be a fun little peak at track 9 turned into absolute chaos.”

“For a few weeks, it seemed like every media outlet could not stop talking about this song and really giving Joe a bad rep in the process.”

“One that wasn’t deserved at all. Joe was such a good sport through the whole thing because he’s such a laid back guy. While I was basically preparing for war, he was the one calming me down about it. Everything was so fresh to the outside world that people just took it to an extreme that it was no where near. When artists release a body of work, I think fans skip past the time element. That particular song was written before I was even signed, I was still working my regular 9 to 5 in Louisiana and using songwriting as a way to cope with my feelings. And its extremely dramatized. For something to be entertaining that might be banal to most, you amp it up and Track 9 was taken from a 4 to a 10 in one session. By the time we were putting together this album, Leon Thomas III, absolutely incredible musician and producer, heard it and decided to rework it. When he was finished, everyone in the room was in love with it, we almost made it a single.”

“Its funny how things like that happen. Before we let you go and hit that stage, give us a little about the song you will be performing in a bit.”

“Absolutely, earlier this week I released ‘Prayer for the Broken’ as a single because I wanted to be able to give to communities that are struggling right now. This song is about how love is the only thing that can fix our broken world so all the proceeds that it brings in will be donated to multiple charities around the world, to help people and communities in horrid conditions. These charities are on my website so if anyone wants to donate straight to them, please do. This song means a lot to me and I hope everyone loves hearing it live.”

“Tonight only?”

“Live tonight AND this summer when I go on my ‘i love you, goodnight’ tour. I hope to see you all there and maybe I’ll bring some friends along too.”

🝮

“Ladies and Gentlemen give it up once again for Venus!”

<<<Previous Chapter | Next Part>>>

Main Masterlist

[headspacedad]

Without the Male Lead, My Grades are Doomed! manhwa

Can I just say I love how manhwas are titled?

Anyway! On to my next reading recommendation.

This one is light and fluffy and just fun. Without the Male Lead, My Grades are Doomed (Will Fall) is the story of an average student that wakes up to find out she's become an extra in a high school manga. Is this a reason to panic? On the contrary, Han Jiseo is thrilled! Because the extra she's taken the roll of is the second smartest student in the school, surpassed only by the male lead of the manga, Ju Yiwon. In fact, her character is such a trope stable that Jiseo finds she doesn't even need to study to get those top notch grades! Considering her family and friends are here as well, she's on cloud nine -

until the Male Lead misses a day of school and Jiseo's test for that day comes back with a failing grade. That's right - in order for her to continue enjoying her roll as second lead student, she has to make sure the Male Lead does his part and shows up to school. And so begins the comedic romp of a golden retriever of a good-hearted girl trying to take care of the clever but suspicious Male Lead.

This story is still in its early stages so its easy to catch up on. The art style is very late 70s, early 80s and a lot of the humor of the story is visual.

Its very easy on the eyes and drawn as energetically and brightly as our female lead. The story is cute - this is a very low stakes story (well, its high stakes for Jiseo who wants to get into a good university but as a reader, there's not a lot of stress over where the plot is going to take you). It's high schoolers with high schooler problems for the most part and the drama of the story relies more on getting Yiwon to school on time as opposed to soap-opera shenanigans between the teenagers. There is very definitely something going on with Yiwon's homelife (that boy needs SUCH a vacation) but the story is centered around Jiseo and her energetic desire to make sure Yiwon is living his best possible life - whether he wants her help doing that or not.

Just really an overall, low pressure, sweet and funny manhwa with good vibes and a slow build relationship that feels both earned and natural.

Enjoy some early 80s pics.

rating: gonna say PG to be safe but to me its very G rated

finished: no

warnings: alcohol abuse, parental neglect, early character death (she had to get into the manga somehow)

abs?: chapter 13

I honestly just can't overemphasize how much of a fluffy, energetic, feel-good, silly story this is without feeling empty or boring in the least.

[solovivopaz]

Oonie/Āchin Biography

Name: Oonie

Species: humanoid sea urchin

Gender: Women

Appearance:

Fur: Sea green

Eyes: Whitish with magenta pupils

Lipstick: Magenta

Hair: Made from your test, resembling a bowl cut. The test is mostly smooth, with alternating dark blue and sea green/orange segments on Splatoon 2, and black and silver/lime in Splatoon 3.

clothing in Splatoon 2: Sleeveless black dress with gold tie, black pants, and Punk Whites style white boots.

clothing in Splatoon 3: Red and black jacket, long plaid skirt, black platform shoes, and spiked bracelet on her left hand.

Personality and traits:

Home: He grew up in a strict home with parents who are famous musicians.

Musical interests: Although he initially preferred bands with different styles than his parents, he has begun to appreciate classical music.

Romantic life: He has no romantic experience and tends to fall in love with people who degrade themselves.

General features: Oonie is determined and has a deep respect for music. Her strict upbringing has made her disciplined, although she can be very critical of both herself and others. Despite her gothic and serious appearance, she has a sensitive side that few get to know.

Background story:

Oonie was born into a family of renowned musicians, which made his childhood full of expectations and pressure. From a very young age, she was instructed in various musical disciplines, which made her talented but also distanced her from her parents. As a teenager, Oonie rebelled against her family's classical musical style, exploring alternative genres and forming her own style.

After many discussions and disagreements, Oonie decided to become independent and find his way in music. This is how he joined Ink Theory, where he found a space to express himself freely. The band not only allowed him to grow as a musician but also as a person, as he established meaningful relationships with his peers, especially Karen and Maya.

Role in history:

Oonie is the bassist and one of the key figures of Ink Theory in Splatoon 2. In Splatoon 3, joins Yoko & the Gold Bazookas as bassist, continuing his musical journey and bringing his style to a new audience. Her discipline and classical training bring a level of sophistication and technique to the band, while her gothic personality and alternative look make her stand out on stage. Despite her reserved and sometimes critical attitude, she is a loyal friend and is always willing to support her colleagues.

Development in history:

In the coming chapters, Oonie will have to face her own fears and doubts, especially when her family contacts her again. This will give him the opportunity to reconcile with his past and find a balance between his classical roots and his love for alternative music. Additionally, his relationship with the other characters, especially Axol and Bibi, will deepen, showing a more human and sensitive side of Oonie that he normally hides behind his cold and reserved appearance.

(This is a translated version, since I am Mexican and I don't know much English xd, I am writing a detailed biography about the girls in whose band, and the drawings you are seeing are made by me :3.)

[sotogalmo]

4 — 6:40

Luka as Margarita Blankenheim thoughts once again, spawned by @nottoonedin & @rockwgooglyeyes : about the caption with the Luka & Hyuna art ( @aakaneeee / @4listr / @chokkito )

"I told you, there was only one thing I wanted." — and then added with Toon's tags along with Rock's (always amazing) thoughts- being the demon to remind that she was owned before. That everyone she cared for was owned at least- her and her brother.

Owned by aliens, yet both her and her brother weren't made like Luka. Made to fit an alien's liking; in all aspects.

He was made; "treated me like a doll/ In those days where I was only used like a decorative doll"; goes fully well with Luka's story and life. Always a doll, treated and looks like one.

"yes, I'll help you all to rest as the sleep princess, for the sake of ensuring you achieve happiness..." Its always about THEM, them, them, them. Never about himself when we compare it with Hyuna's many "I"s and "me"s, because she believes in the opposite and lives in the opposite; the ""“dark”"" for most of the pets, is where she lives at; since Luka is the most influential one I would think.

His looks, his grades, top 1, winner of season 49. So on; the others want their pets to be like Luka — if you disobey that? No one will know of you. You are forgotten, and misremembered as a monster, I'd believe. If they were to tell tales of humans escaping? I think the aliens would make it seem like the ones who left, are evil ones.

"You’re only after the wealth of a doctor’s daughter

Aside from that I’m happy, nonetheless / You can also forget our promise when we were children

If I can be by your side."

"Sleep with this gift, you’ll sleep well with this gift

Yes I am the sleep princess, for the sake of your happiness…

Everyone carries troubles: My dad, my mom, and the people of this town. For the sake of everyone who can’t sleep at night- i’ll make this gift, a sleeping medicine

Unpleasant reality, unrequited feelings. If inside a dream, these things can be forgotten

Like a baby inside their crib

With your eyes closed, abandon yourself";

(I could never really get this picture out of my head. "like a baby inside their crib, with your eyes closed, abandon yourself" is very fitting for this peice too)

I don't really know how to actually be coherent in this post. Luka as Margarita was more like "haha, dolls🫵". But you know, for the ones who know the ec lore— Luka is also very fitting for Eve Zeveda(Moonlit); considering how both Eve and Margarita are the same-ish

Being experimented on, going insane (I feel like Luka would have spiral moments), being the first (in different ways), etc.

Luka as Margarita shows more of his relationships, with the people around him I'd think,,,

Luka and Margarita, and the whole "sleeping" deal actually. Margarita is a doll (clockworker's doll to be exact), Luka was made like he was a doll- a toy.

Made into Heperu's liking. Into his perfect pet.

Luka cannot flee, for if he does; it's his end. Just as Margarita's was— she gave them a gift (poison), but in the song it seemed not so long lived, and she too- also soon passed because she also received her own gift

His "gift", is always of course, going to be sent to Hyuna first- though, along with his guardian (because subconsciously or not, I just know that he hates his life so much but he's dissociated enough to forget it all until he gets those tests again). Just as it was with Margarita to Kasper and her father

Luka is a doll, Margarita is a doll.

In some way, while Mizi is our POV(ish) character, she is not the first sinner if going by how winners of previous seasons come into the second round of a season.

Then Luka is the first sinner; but he was made in that regard. To be the first

And Hyuna; the difference.

She does not eat the apple. She does not lay down and bare the consequences of being in Alien Stage; she flees.

She runs away.

Because she wants to— because she deserves to live for herself, for the purpose of the others yet also herself.

To live life to the fullest; and not in some cage— in some tube that Luka was made in. A tube that Luka fits in, like a glove

To live bigger, and better.

Not healthy, but better than the alluring Venus fly traps that don't function correctly.

Hyuna is the dark, while she lives in such bliss (a bliss that is humanity without the aliens controlling them) that only others could never think of doing because, in some way, I just know that leaving ANAKT Garden has been told to them before; if they were to leave? Oh, they'll be seen as monsters, or something worse?

I don't really know. But I do know that some of the kids would ask, and then never really get a reply about it.

Luka is the light; but only a pale one. Even though he is bright— he's pale.

A pale yellow-gold— a pale imitation.

Not the truth, but seen as true; just like everything else in the garden "In those days where I was only used like a decorative doll

I was already broken long ago, I wanted to destroy everything

It’s a very efficacious medicine, efficacious up to being able to sleep forever

With this, finally I too will be able to sleep, from the Sleep Princess to Sleeping Princess..."

[sunshine-theseus]

Slow | Chloe Logarzo x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: despite a rough relationship with your parents, your closeness to your sister brings you Chloe, the only girl for you. Warning: NOT PROOF READ I have no clue if this is any good and I’m so sorry I think it might be one of my worst ones😭, I know the WBBL started in 2015 but who fucking cares, I changed it – no COVID but Olympics still postponed for some unknown reason :D Requested by - @charligrantismygirlfriend - not happy with this one at all i'm genuinely so sorry

Sport wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. In fact, it was my favourite thing. As a kid, my mum and dad put me through many different clubs for different sports, from tennis to AFL. We always landed back at the same lush green cricket pitch in the western suburbs of Sydney on a Saturday morning, surrounded by other girls of all ages who shared my passion.

On Sundays my younger sister would play her soccer games, so we’d spend the weekend in a hotel in the city, then go to each other’s games, pretending to do our homework as we watch.

Not long into Ellie’s soccer journey, our parents decided the move from Cowra to Sydney was necessary for her to develop. The hours long trips to and from training in the depths of Sydney every afternoon proving to be more difficult as she progressed in school.

I no longer lived with them when they made the move, but I resented Ellie for a while. I’d been playing cricket before she could walk, albeit poorly as a 6-year-old, and had moved up through the stages into the best group in the academy by the age of 14. My parents insisted nothing much would come of it, so there was no reason to make such a drastic move and leave the farm and small-town life behind.

-

I started playing professionally for Sydney in the Twenty20 Cup at 17, the same year I got my first call-up for the women’s national cricket team. We, or they, still didn’t live in Sydney, so I dropped out of high school my senior year, and lived with one of the older girls who was also on the national team. I made my national debut a couple months after in a test match against England. My parents didn’t come, Ellie had some important game on that was simply impossible to miss.

-

At 15, when they finally joined me in the city, Ellie joined her first W-league team, and had her first senior team call-up. I made sure to be there for both debuts, avoiding my parents who sat in the crowd nearby. I cried the moment she first touched the pitch in a Matilda’s jersey, and rushed down from the stands to pick her up and hug her when the match was over.

That’s when I first met her… Chloe. My age, a beautiful brunette in the midfield who celebrated with my sister after their 9-0 win against Vietnam. We introduced ourselves and exchanged numbers but nothing much came of it. I can’t deny the many nights I spent awake dreaming of the girl.

The next time I saw Chloe in person was a Sydney Derby. Naturally I’d come to support my sister, but I couldn’t help but cheer whenever the older girl got a touch on the ball. I met up with her and Ellie again after the game, shouting them both dinner. That’s when Chloe asked me out on our first date.

It was somewhat rushed. Her departure for Newcastle was pending and it limited our options, leaving us to grab some shitty take away and dance around in a field down the road from where I lived. The sun was bright, but her smile was brighter. I stumble on my own feet whenever she looked at me, her beauty beyond compare. The beginning of a sunburn kissing my cheeks only provided me so much of an excuse as to why I was so red.

“I’m going to come to every single one of your games.” She whispers in my ear as we lay on the picnic blanket, beneath the over looming gum tree, me playing with her hair as she rests a hand beneath my loose linen shirt.

“You have your own training. And you can’t drive 2+ hours back and forth once a week. Also we have away games you can’t possibly make...” Despite my desperate want for her to be there every game, I begin to list all the reasons it wasn’t logical.

“I’ll find a way. And if not all, most home games.” She gives me a satisfied smile, one that tells me she knows she’s won whatever little argument we had.

-

Chloe keeps her promise, and I join her in my own. We both attend each other’s home games as often as possible, and very rarely, we managed to catch an away game. It usually happened when we were both playing a game in the same city, but we took whatever we were given.

Things went down hill when she moved to Sweden.

She hadn’t been the one to tell me. Ellie was spending a week with me after returning from the Olympics, which I had managed to attend most of, and asked me how I felt about the move. Chloe and I had been dating for a year, so the shock that she hadn’t told me was bigger than the shock at the news.

“What do you mean? She would tell me if she was moving to Sweden.” The pity in my little sister’s eyes is enough to break me. She pats and rubs my back as I sob into her shoulder. My whole body shakes as I moan and weep, and by the time I stop my eyes burn and there isn’t a dry spot on her shirt.

-

“So this is it? You’re breaking up with me because I’m moving?” Chloe looks at me like I’ve got 2 heads as I stand on her front step.

“No, I’m breaking up with you because I had to find out from my little sister, by accident, that you’re moving. Were you ever going to tell me? Or was I just going to have to find out when The Jets removed your name from the squad list?”

“I’m going to come back for the A-League season anyway! It’s not like I’m never coming back, I’ll barely be gone 8 months. And I was going to tell you!”

“When? Once your plane touched down in Stockholm or wherever you’re going? In 5 months when I called you so you can explain why you didn’t come to my game? When were you going to tell me Chlo?” I’m met with silence.

“That’s what I thought.” I turn and walk away, never expecting to see her again.

I can hear her shouting something at me as I continue to walk down the road, droplets of rain beginning to fall on the pavement in front of me. Nothing really registers until I’m standing in front of my sister’s apartment door, clothes heavy with rain and a face void of any other emotion except heartbreak.

-

I don’t see Chloe for years to come following the tragic end of our relationship. Despite her coming back during the summer to play for Sydney, I had no reason to watch her games, Ellie having moved to Portland to develop her career.

Then Ellie moved to Lyon, and I decided to move with her, putting a pause to my cricketing career. Further away from Chloe and closer to Ellie seemed like the perfect deal.

So I helped Ellie move and meet her new teammates. Every morning I’d make her breakfast and then walk around the city, usually finding myself in a café or museum and writing a book. Something I never planned on doing anything with, but found a solace in.

That’s how I found myself in the same café I go to every Saturday, typing in the same document I have been typing in for 5 months. Desperately pressing the backspace as I sip the now cold coffee, I don’t notice someone sliding into the seat across from me.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I’m surprised I didn’t get whiplash at the speed in which my head snapped up to look at the girl across from me.

She looks different. Not really, just… older. And her hair is bleached, skin just a fraction more tan, eyes still that shimmering blue. Still beautiful

“Chloe- what the fuck are you doing here?” the words nearly get caught in my throat as I try to process what’s going on.

“Well, I’m playing for Bristol now, in case you didn’t know. Only spent 2 seasons in Sweden then went back to Sydney, went on loan to Washington for a season, back to Sydney, now I’m in England. We have a small break so I thought I’d come see Ellie. Planned everything around you, knew you wouldn’t want to see me. I didn’t take into account you might still like coffee as much as you used to.”

“How’d you even know I’m with Ellie?” it’s a dumb question but I ask it none the less.

“You think I stopped tracking your career because we broke up? I have to say, when I read the “renowned cricketer Y/N Carpenter taking a break for an unforeseen amount of time to help her little sister, Matildas star Ellie Carpenter, settle into the big leagues at Olympique Lyonnais.” headlines, I was shocked.” I finally managed to meet her eyes, the crow’s feet that crack at the corners making her ever the more pretty. It’s aggravating.

“Thought it’d help me get away from Sydney.”

“Sydney? Or me?” I almost want to grab her by the shoulders and scream at her how much I miss her, but I stay sat and silent. A satisfied hum escapes her lips and a smile graces her face.

“I miss you.” She says what I’m thinking, and I begin to think how much of a coward I am. It was so easy for her, why am I struggling?

She doesn’t let me reply, getting up and walking out. I get up to follow her but she’s vanished in the crowd, so I sit, letting my coffee grow colder, thinking about her.

~~~~~

“Ellie this is a bad idea.”

“Common. Meeks is bringing Harley and Kirstey. You love Harley. You can babysit!” my little sister is determined, although my fighting is useless as we drag our suitcases through the airport.

“Chloe is going to be there El.”

“Chloe is going to be here.” I nearly bump into her as she stops in front of us.

“And she’ll be your plane buddy.” The cheeky grin I was once so familiar with graces her face and I can feel the corner of my own lips twitching as my heart clenches. Fuck.

“Oh goody.” I try to ignore the sweat that begins to prick through my skin as Ellie stalks away from us to meet Emily Gielnik.

-

“Real talk.” Chloe’s face is serious as soon as we take our seats on the plane.

“I miss you, and I want to try this again. I get you may not want to but you can’t tell me you don’t still feel even the tiniest bit of love for me still.” Her finger waggles back and forth between as to indicate exactly what she’s talking about and I sigh.

“I miss you too…” I meet her eyes and I can see the hope that grows behind them.

“But if we try this out again, we have to take it slow. Like go out on a few dates to start with.”

“I can do that.” She eagerly nods her head in agreement.

“I’d really like that.” I smile back at her, and that seems to end the conversation.

As the engine rumbles and we begin moving along the tarmac, I rest my arm on the armrest. I gently slide my hand into Chloe’s and rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes. Maybe slow wasn’t necessary, I love her too much.

[jasper-pagan-witch]

[ snaps all of my joints in one go ]

What's your favorite food? Candy? Drink?

How did you get into MTG?

What's your favorite spread to read? Least favorite spread you've ever read?

What's something you're currently researching?

And finally: How was your day today?

Ask Game: get to know the blogger

Khajiit, you always fill my inbox, and that delights me. I am glad that we are at the stage of our friendship where we can send each other barely-hinged introductions to our list of questions.

What's your favorite food? Candy? Drink?

I just generally like food. Lately I've been on a homemade pizza kick (my dad makes a mean homemade crust). Snickers have become my go-to candy when I trudge over to the gas station next to ("next to") the library I work at. I love Lipton peach iced tea, Hiland chocolate milk, and pretty much any kind of whole cow's milk. I like milk, man.

How did you get into MTG?

I saw some precon decks from the Shadows Over Innistrad/Eldritch Moon block in Walmart and my biological father got them to teach me and my sister how to play because my bio father and my mother were playing the game well before I was born. I literally would not have been born if not for this game. There is a card in the front of my baby book just because of the flavor text. My mother's Green enchantment deck is referred to as the Eldest Sibling Deck because it's the last of her collection that was stolen while she was in the hospital giving birth to me. This game is, unfortunately, a better father to me and a more consistent presence in my life than my biological father, and that's saying something.

What's your favorite spread to read? Least favorite spread you've ever read?

Okay, so, uh...I don't actually enjoy reading spreads, mostly because I've come to the conclusion that most spreads are multiple mini-readings rather than one big reading.

Having said that, I've been having a good time with the Three Kings Divination that I'm testing out on @jasper-tarot-reader, it's just actual hell on me because oh my GODS what a fucking energy and time sink. I've gotta do three more readings and wait for feedback before I move on to phase three of testing.

I also enjoy doing relationship spreads but only for selfshippers with fictional others. I have one friend (hi @teazerwashere) that I poke whenever I want to practice relationship readings because their fictional others are a goddamn mess and I mean that as a compliment. Wholeass, I think more tarot readers should do readings for selfshippers.

And of course, I must mention my "tarot spreads to kill your enemies instantly" tag. A classic.

Otherwise, spreads are currently off the table for me now. I get as many cards as I get.

What's something you're currently researching?

I mentioned this over on @jasper-book-stash but I'm currently reading Skull Scrying by Lupa Greenwolf! I'm chipping away to find furries, alterhumans, otherkin, therians, and other such folk (hi guys I love you platonically) in witchcraft, pagan, and occult spaces. I know for a damn fact that I'm not the only one here, I'm hunting your asses down.

And finally: How was your day today?

Pretty good! I finally got an update that one of my Acquisitions in the mail (another fucking deck) finally made it to Missouri, and I'm hoping that it and the other Acquisition (also another fucking deck) get here quickly. The second volume of the MTG manga (Destroy All Humans. They Can't Be Regenerated.) I preordered is also officially on its way! I also had a pleasant day at work, I got to see some of my favorite library patrons!

~Jasper

[energydrinkking]

Furina's constellations and their meanings!

Furina is known for having extremely long constellation names. Many know that all these names are taken from operas and songs, in character for Furina since she loves operas and arts in general. But… is there more behind it? Here are my thoughts on the constellations and how they fit her story and character!

C1: “Love is a rebellious bird that none can tame”, the lyrics are taken word by word from the opera “Carmen”. The lyrics of the opera often reference love as multiple things at the same time. “Love does not know law!”. “Love is far, you can wait for it”. “Love is a child”. The opera itself deals with proletarian life, immorality, lawlessness and the tragic death of the main character on stage. Furina’s love for Fontaine does not know law. She impersonated a god, which is punishable, but she still did for her people. Her love for her people cannot be tamed by law, or by anyone. She would choose to act out this painful act another 500 years if it meant that her people would be safe.

C2: “A woman adapts like duckweed in water”, the name is a stretched-out version of the opera “Rigoletto”, the original title of the opera is called “La maledizione” (The Curse). it deals with a curse that was put on the main character, and it only comes to fruition when Gilda (the female love interest) starts falling in love with him, he is then saved by her, sacrificing her own life for him. Sound familiar, no? A curse, a prophecy, a sacrifice. Furina fits all these themes in one way. Furina also, quite literally, adapts to any situation thrown at her (like duckweed in water).

C3: “My secret is hidden within me, no one will know my name“, the sentence is taken word by word from the opera “Turandot”. The opera follows the Prince Calaf, who falls in love with the cold Princess Turandot In order to win her hand in marriage, he must solve three riddles, with a wrong answer resulting in his execution. Calaf passes the test, but Turandot refuses to marry him. He offers her a way out: if she is able to guess his name before dawn the next day, he will accept death. Furina often uses her God name “Focalor” when describing herself, to keep her image as a god. In the opera, the main character is glad that the princess doesn’t know his name. However, in Furina’s case, she is probably saddened by the fact that she can’t let anyone know her “real” name. Everyone knows the name “Furina” but do they really KNOW “Furina”?

C4: “They know not life, who dwelt in the netherworld not!”, is a retelling of the ancient legend of Orpheus and Eurydice and comes from “Orpheus in the Underworld” Orpheus in the play is portrayed as carefree, indifferent to the loss of his wives, even eager to escape the constraints of marriage. This might draw parallels with Furina who, to the people of Fontaine, appeared inactive in the face of Poisson's disasters.

C5: “His name I now know! It is…!“ the sentence is also taken word by word from the same opera as the C3, “Turandot”. The princess finally learns his name at the end of the final act. She uses the words “It is… love!” I 100% believe this is a reference to Neuvillette.  With her C3, where she is telling everyone that no one will ever know her name, and in this constellation, she seems weirdly happy about knowing someone’s name… or in better words: knowing someone. Seeing Neuvillette grow as a person and learn to love humans as much as she does. She now knows the true Neuvillette, the one who loves and adores humans. As she has a close relationship with Neuvillette, he can open himself up to her, he has no secrets that he must keep from her. Many fontainians have tried to get close to him, but all have been rejected. No one knows his full name, except for Furina. She, however, cannot ever let Neuvillette get to know the real her. Her secret is hidden within her.

C6: “hear me – let us raise the chalice of love!” is a duet from “La traviata” and is considered a brindisi (a song that encourages drinking). Now, this is going to sound lazy but I feel like this constellation name is something Furina would say out of the blue when she’s drinking alcohol. Clorinde once had to stop her from getting up on the table when she was drinking too much. I also want to mention that Furina, who has acted as someone she was not, may fall back into that character. It was also mentioned in Furina’s voice-overs that she sometimes cannot separate the real Furina with the “god” Furina.

These are my thoughts!

[sequinsmile-x]

Hi bestie! I was wondering if you considered writing a sequel to “Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too” where Emily meets her parents somewhere by accident and they find out she has kids? It would be interesting to see their reaction 🙂

hiii bestie <3

love this. It always means so much when people want to see more from a little universe I've created. This very quickly turned into a two parter, and part 2 will be up later in the week!

-x-

Some Things Are Meant to Be

She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in two decades staring right back at her.

A sequel to Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too

Part 1/2

-x-

Words: 2.8k

Warnings: estranged parents

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

October 2013

Emily smiles, her face pressed into her husband’s pillow, as she hears the thundering footsteps of her youngest daughter in the hallway. 

She knew what her family were up to. Aaron had woken her up as he snuck out of bed, whispering Happy Birthday against her hairline before he told her to go back to sleep. She’d wrapped her arms around his pillow and settled deeper into the mattress, but she didn’t get any more sleep. Instead, she’d laid there, content and relaxed as she listened to her husband and their daughters make breakfast for her, their attempts to whisper and keep quiet pointless, their home a place that was always loud and busy. 

She loved it. Loved the happiness that permeated everything, the gentle chaos that came with raising three girls with the man she loved. It was so normal to her, so beautifully ordinary, that her life before them seemed like it happened to somebody else. That it hadn’t been her who had sat in front of her parents just shy of her 23rd birthday and been forced to choose between the life they wanted for her and the one she was living. 

It had been 20 years and she hadn’t regretted it for a moment. Hadn’t had one second where she thought she’d made the wrong decision by walking away from them. Even if things hadn’t worked out with Aaron, if their relationship had fizzled out or collapsed around them, she knew that she wouldn’t have regretted it. Her life would have been her own either way, no longer weighed down by expectations she never would have been able to live up to. 

She closes her eyes just before the bedroom door opens, pretending to be asleep as Mae loudly sneaks into the room. The 5-year-old clambers onto the bed, landing on Emily as she sits next to her, her tiny hands pressing into her mother’s face. 

“Mommy,” Mae stage whispers, louder than she usually was, “Wake up, Mommy.” 

Emily makes a show of opening her eyes and yawning, smiling as her eyes meet those of her daughter, smiling as she pulls her little girl into a hug, Mae’s giggle lost against her chest. 

“Morning, baby,” she says, pressing several kisses in a row to Mae’s head, revelling in the way her youngest still let her love on her this way. Evelyn was beyond it now, claiming at the grand old age of 14 that she was a grown-up, and Hazel was getting there, testing the boundaries of her independence for the first time since she’d turned 10 just a few months ago. 

Emily loved that her girls were independent, that she and Aaron had raised them to be fierce and confident, but she missed when they needed her more than they did now. The long days of early motherhood that seemed to endlessly drag on at the time now behind her. She felt like she constantly went from being proud of who her daughters were becoming to missing when the only place they’d sleep was in her arms. 

Becoming a mother had only made her more angry at her own, somehow even more frustrated at her parents for cutting her off for nothing more than falling in love with a man they thought they were above. She knew, no matter what, that she and Aaron would always make sure their children were loved and that they knew they were.  

They’d never have to doubt it like she had. 

“Happy Birthday, Mommy,” Mae says, tilting her head back to look up at her, her smile wide as their eyes meet.

Emily runs her fingers through her dark hair, smiling as Mae leans into it, “Thank you,” she says, “Are they making breakfast down there?” 

Mae nods, “Daddy says they’ll bring it up to you.” 

She hums contentedly and pulls Mae closer, “In that case, we can just sit here and snuggle until they are finished.” 

“Love you, Mommy,” Mae says, pressing her face into her neck, her fingers tracing the chain of Emily’s necklace. 

Emily rests her cheek on top of Mae’s head and sighs contentedly, “Love you too, sweet girl.” 

___

June 1992

At first, she isn’t sure what’s woken her up. 

She rolls onto her back, yawning as she stretches, the delicious ache in her muscles making her sigh contentedly. She turns her head and smiles when she sees Aaron is still asleep, his mouth slack and his arm heavy across her waist. In the few months they’d been seeing each other she’d rarely woken up before him, so she takes a moment to look at him, to study his features whilst he’s entirely relaxed.

She’s just about to reach out to press her thumb into the space between his eyebrows, the place where they usually creased together, when a knock at the door makes her jump, followed by the door handle rattling.

“Emily? Why is the door locked?” Elizabeth asks, her irritation clear even through the heavy wood. 

“Fuck,” Emily mutters, her hand on Aaron’s shoulder as she shakes it, dragging him from sleep as she stands up, clamouring for her robe so she can cover herself, “Aaron, wake up.” 

“What?” He asks, blinking against the light in the room, his brain not quite catching up with why he was awake. 

“You need to get up, my mother is out there” she says, pulling the covers off of him and walking towards the closet before she opens the door, “Get in the closet.” 

He frowns, and she’s sure she’d find it adorable if her mother wasn’t seconds away from accidentally finding out about the relationship they’d kept hidden, “What, Emily I’m not-”

“Emily,” Elizabeth says, knocking on the door again, “I know you’re in there and I really need to speak to you.” 

Emily looks back at him, her eyes wide, an edge of desperation in them he can’t ignore, “Get in there. Now.” 

He sighs and nods, walking over to the closet and pulling the door closed behind him. Emily makes quick work of tidying up the bed, making sure it only looked like one person had been sleeping in it, and she flattens her hair before she walks over to the door. She gives herself a second before she undoes the lock and pulls the door open, hoping that the smile she gives her mother seems genuine. 

“Mother, sorry I was about to get into the shower,” she says, leaning on the doorframe, “Is everything okay?” 

Elizabeth narrows her eyes and looks past her into the bedroom, her eyebrow raised as she looks back at her daughter, “I just wanted to remind you about tonight.” 

Emily frowns, “Tonight?” 

“The benefit, Emily. The one I’ve been planning for weeks,” Elizabeth says, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks sternly at her daughter, “Your father and I expect you to be there.” 

She sighs and nods, her brain finally catching up with her, “Right. The benefit, of course, I’ll be there.” 

Elizabeth hums, “And remember, be nice to Agent Hotchner.” 

Emily chokes on a laugh and it takes all of her self control to not turn and look at the closet she’d made him stand in, the thin door he was hiding behind nowhere near thick enough to block out her conversation with her mother, “Why…why wouldn’t I be nice to him?” 

“You’re never nice to the security staff,” Elizabeth quips, her eyebrow raised, “And it’s his first one of these he’s working so I’d rather not have you scare someone else off,” she says, “I don’t have the time to find a replacement.” 

She has to press her lips together to stop herself from laughing and she nods as she clears her throat, “I’ll be extra nice to him,” she says, fighting a smile, “I promise.” 

“Anyway, I’ve got to get going. We’ve got plenty to get done before this evening,” Elizabeth says, turning to leave before she pauses, casting one last look back at her daughter, “And please try to run a brush through your hair before this evening, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge.” 

Emily scoffs as she places her hands on her hair again, trying to flatten it as her mother walks away. She blows out a breath as she steps back into her bedroom, locking the door behind her again before she rests her head against it.

“Can I come out now?” 

She screws her eyes shut and hides a wince, embarrassment at her reaction to hide him coursing through her as she replies, “Yes.” 

For a man who was wearing nothing but the boxers he’d shoved on as he scrambled out of bed, he walks out of the closet with a type of confidence that makes her stomach flip, “That was an interesting way to start the day.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says, pushing herself off of the door and walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him, smiling bashfully as she looks up at him, “I just didn’t want her to find out about us because she found you naked in my bed.” 

He hums as he wraps his arms around her, pulling her so they are chest to chest as he stamps a kiss against her lips. With anyone else, he’s sure he’d feel offended that she’d thrown him out of bed and hidden him, but he knows her relationship with her parents is complicated. He’d seen it first hand, had witnessed the struggle between reality and expectation and both sides, and he knew she liked to keep as much of her life separate from them as possible. 

It was one of the reasons they’d ended up together in the first place. She never invited any of her friends over, forcing herself to be somewhat of a lonely figure, nothing like the fun, intelligent 21-year-old he knew her to be. Her summer at home between her undergrad and masters had started with her isolating herself, eventually becoming so bored she’d started to hang out with him. A permanent, and entirely welcome, distraction as he tried to work. It felt inevitable when they kissed, a press of her lips against his one night after they shared a drink and sad, surface-level, stories about their childhoods. 

Aaron knew he’d remain a secret of hers forever if that’s what she wanted, no matter how impractical that would be. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says, kissing her again, “Although, if we really are going to make a go of this, they are going to have to find out at some point.” 

She groans as she rests her forehead against his shoulder, “I know,” she mutters, pressing a kiss to his bare skin, the action turning into a smile when he shivers, “But not yet.” 

He hooks a finger under her chin and makes him look up at her, “Not yet,” he agrees, kissing the corner of her mouth, smiling when she turns her head to capture his lips in a proper kiss. He can still feel the tension in her shoulders, the anxiety only her parents could cause, and he wants to get rid of it, wants to give her the slow peaceful morning they’d intended to have. “I seem to remember overhearing you saying you were going to be extra nice to me.” 

She smiles devilishly and leads him back to the bed, encouraging him to sit down before she straddles his lap, his hands never leaving her hips. She undoes the robe she’s wearing and lets it fall open before she leans forward, pausing just before her lips touch his. 

“I’ll show you just how nice I can be.” 

___

“Mom,” Evelyn hisses as she makes it to her side, her eyes darting around to see if any of her friends have seen her, “You didn’t have to meet me right outside,” she says, adjusting her book bag over her shoulder, “Everyone else’s parents are meeting them in the parking lot.” 

Emily chuckles and walks alongside her daughter, “Evie, I had to park at Union Station, there’s no way I’m letting you walk there by yourself,” she says, smiling as the teenager rolls her eyes at her, “Besides, you should be grateful it’s me who came to pick you up. Your Dad wanted to get a picture of you outside the Capitol Building.” 

Evelyn shudders at the thought of it, as if she can’t think of anything worse than posing for a photo for her parents, “Why?” 

“Because we’re proud of you,” she says, “It’s not every day your kid gets invited to the Student Government Conference.” 

The irony of Evelyn’s aptitude for and love of politics was not lost on Emily. She’d joined the Student Government in middle school and loved it, and she’d been part of one ever since. She found it fascinating, the ins and outs of the laws and how they were made one of her favourite things to learn. 

Emily often thought that her daughter was the child her mother had always wanted in some ways. Evelyn was just like Emily - she was opinionated, wilful and stubborn, but she was also empathetic and kind and just a little bit wild. They were all traits Elizabeth had hated in Emily, things she’d desperately tried to fix that Emily hadn’t seen the beauty in herself until she saw them in her own daughters, but she thinks her mother would have been a lot more forgiving of them if she’d had the interests that Evelyn did. If they’d shared a love for the politics that had actually been a wedge between them, a gap neither one of them could, or would, cross. 

“It’s not that big a deal.” 

Emily comes to a stop and places her hand on Evelyn’s arm, squeezing gently before she lets go, “Yes, sweetie, it is. We’re very proud of you.” 

Evelyn fights a smile and crosses her arms over her chest, “Thank you, Mom” she replies, looking around to make sure none of her friends have overheard her before she carries on walking, “Do you think that pride will get me pizza tonight?” 

Emily laughs and nods, “I think your dad will let you-”

“Emily?” 

She freezes at the sound of the voice she hadn’t heard in years, her shoulders tight as she turns, her jaw clenched as their eyes meet, a face she hadn’t seen in 20 years staring right back at her. She stands frozen for a moment, stuck between her past and her present, before she feels a hand on her arm.

“Mom?” Evelyn says, her dark eyes full of concern as Emily looks at her, “Are you okay?” 

Emily hears how the woman standing in front of them gasps quietly as Evelyn calls her mom, and she nods and digs her keys out of her pocket, grateful that they are now close enough to the car that she could see it, “I’m fine, go get in the car, honey.” 

Evelyn frowns, looking back and forth between her mother and the familiar looking stranger in front of them, “Mom, what’s-”

“The car, Evelyn,” Emily says, harsher than she means to, something that only registers as hurt flashes across her daughter's face. She sighs and tucks some of Evelyn’s hair behind her ear, “Please,” she says, her voice softer now, “Go get in the car and I’ll come to meet you in a minute.” 

Evelyn flicks her eyes between the two women again before she nods, taking the keys from Emily, flashing a tight smile at her before she turns away, “See you in a minute.” 

Emily watches her go, her eyes fixed on her daughter’s retreating figure, not taking her eyes off of her before she sees her climb into the front passenger seat of the car. It’s only then that Emily turns to look at the woman in front of her, still rooted to the spot.

She looks the same bar a few lines around her eyes. As if two decades hadn’t passed since they’d last seen each other. She clears her throat and clasps her hands in front of her, her fingers automatically curling around her wedding rings, Aaron’s love pressing from the cool metal into her skin. 

When she speaks, she’s proud that her voice doesn’t shake, that she doesn’t give any indication of the war waging within her. 

“Hello, Mother.” 

-x-

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S2: The Bad Batch (11)

Chapter Eleven: Metamorphosis

Gif by @dreamswithghosts

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: A final mission from Cid sees you encountering something that you never would've expected.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, very light angst and feelings/protectiveness, Hemlock making an appearance

Word Count: 3.6K

Author's notes: Very much just sticking to the episode, with a couple little extra scene details but it'll be a more chill read for sure! Hope you still enjoy! Excited to begin work on Ch12 and please do let me know on this post if there is a preference cause sometimes I need a little creative help lol

With you all having caught up on some sleep, it was time to get in touch with Cid and her reaction came as no surprise to any of you.

“Not sure what’s got you all twisted up in knots.”

“We were stranded on that planet, Cid. We needed you, and you left us.” Omega said hotly.

“You’re fine now, aren’t you? And you got your ship back.”

“Yeah, with no help from you.” Wrecker complained.

“Do you wanna mope or make money? Because I got a tip on a downed ship, which means cargo ripe for the taking. I’ll even give you 30% of the cut.”

You scoffed at the way she acted like she was giving you all a gift.

“That is our standard percentage.” Tech pointed out.

“All right. This one time, let’s say 35%.”

Wrecker thought that sounded okay but one glance at the rest of you told you that a better offer was expected.

“Okay, 40.” Cid said but again was met with hard stares. “Fine, 50% as a token of my goodwill, that you seem to have forgotten.” She added pointedly.

“Goodwill?” You repeated with a roll of your eyes.

Cid didn’t pay that any attention. “I’m sending you the intel now. Don’t come back unless you scavenge something valuable.”

“What makes you think we’d come back at all?” Hunter countered.

“Don’t test me, Bandana. Just get it done.” Cid snapped before she signed off.

Tech examined the intel on the datapad, “Severing ties with Cid could be problematic, considering what she knows about us. Perhaps we choose a diplomatic solution and complete this one last mission for her.” He suggested.

Hunter sat down and took the datapad from his brother. “Cid only sent coordinates. No ship transponder code or indication of what caused it to crash.”

“Limited intel. There’s a surprise.” You muttered as you stood beside Hunter’s seat.

“How hard could scavenging cargo be?” Omega offered.

“Omega, don’t ever lose that optimism.” You said affectionately before you heard a heavy breath leave Hunter’s lips and there it was again, that exhausted sigh. You placed a supportive hand on his shoulder.

--

Omega gasped from her room as the ship left hyperspace and entered the atmosphere, “There’s a village here.

“That would explain how the wreckage was reported so quickly.” Tech said in reply from his seat in front of the hall control panel. “The crashed vessel appears mostly intact. The cargo aboard should be in fair enough condition to transport.”

--

The ship landed and fully kitted up, you all left the ship, and searched for the vessel.

It didn’t take long to find.

“What kinda ship is this?” Wrecker asked as he studied the wreckage.

“Don’t know. No hull markings.” Hunter responded.

You shone your torch across it. Whatever had caused this ship to crash, it had made it crash hard. There were no signs of life and there was debris scattered all around the main crash site.

“Based on the severity of the impact and the lack of communication signals, the crew aboard most likely perished.” Tech said as he stared at his datapad.

Omega had climbed up to access the door. “We don’t know for sure. They could be trapped inside. Come on.”

“All this time with us, how has she kept this up?” You pondered as you made to follow her up.

“Couldn’t tell you.” Hunter agreed, a smile in his voice. He knew the rest of you had been hardened by war and had seen the very worst of people and it had left its mark. You all could find that hope when you really needed to, you wouldn’t have made it this far otherwise, but it didn’t come as easily as it used to, and he worried that that would start to show in Omega, but he was yet to see that. If she could keep that type of outlook and strength within her, then they’d have done something right.

--

The door whirred open, and Hunter and Omega shone their lights into the dark corridor, but it seemed to be clear.

Hunter led the way in.

--

The more you walked through the ship, the more uncomfortable you got. It was eerily silent and empty, yet you felt like you were just waiting for something to jump out from any number of the dark corners, leaving you with the sensation that you were intruding.

“Where is everyone?” Omega breathed.

Wrecker’s foot nudged something on the ground. “Oh, check it out.” He gasped eagerly as he picked it up. “High-volt electrostaff.”

You barely registered what he said, you were too busy examining the markings on the wall.

Tech followed your trail of light with his own. “Something unfortunate happened here.”

“Whatever did this wasn’t human.” You added.

“I will get the power restored and check data logs on the bridge.” Tech said.

“By yourself?” Omega whispered nervously.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that one, Tech.” You agreed.

“Your concern is not warranted. I will be fine.” Tech said dismissively.

“Famous last words of anyone whose wandered off into a creepy, dark space.” You muttered but your concern was obvious.

Tech simply shrugged. “I will rejoin you all momentarily.”

With a sigh, you split up and the four of you continued your exploration whilst Tech went to the bridge.

--

What the rest of you next discovered as you carried on exploring the ship was not what you were expecting. Your torch light shone on what appeared to be some sort of tank and you immediately noticed the abrupt change of temperature.

“Why is it so cold in here?” Wrecker asked.

“It’s some kind of lab.” Hunter deduced as he led the way around the room.

“This medical equipment is Kaminoan.” Omega said, her breath coming out as smoke.

“Huh. So, what’s it doing here?” Wrecker asked.

Omega looked down at a broken piece of equipment. “It’s their cloning technology but this configuration is different than anything I saw in Tipoca City.”

Hunter clicked his comm. “Tech, find anything on the bridge?”

--

“Not yet. Still rerouting the reserve power. Stand by. The grid should be restored momentarily.” Tech was then distracted by a loud clatter. He followed the sound to what he thought was the source which was a broken droid that was repeatedly saying ‘danger.’ “What happened? What attacked this ship?” He asked it but it simply stuttered ‘danger’ again powered down. It was then he heard the sound of something clanking above him again and he knew he needed to find his way back to the rest of you.

--

Wrecker examined and touched a gloopy like substance next to a section of scratched on the walls. He grunted in disgust. “These are reinforced walls. What were they keeping in here?”

There was a faint creaking sound echoing throughout the room and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. “I don’t know, but it’s still on board.”

The sound of water dripping and something chittering about you all started to grow louder and it was then you caught sight of a creature you’d never seen before hanging upside down from the ceiling, saliva dripping form it’s jaws but there was also an electric spark coming from its mouth which reminded you of something, but you couldn’t remember what.

“Hunter, what is that?” Omega whispered.

“Back away slowly.” Hunter ordered quietly. He kept a protective arm out in front of Omega as he did so.

You all did as he said but suddenly a pipe burst and you all instinctively turned to look at it but when your attention went back to where the creature had been, you were horrified to see that it had jumped down from the ceiling and was now stalking towards you all.

You made to step out, but Hunter’s hand caught your wrist.

“You’re not going to try and connect with this.”

“Hunter-”

“This isn’t something that’s up for debate. It’s an order. You’re not going near it.” He said firmly as he pulled out his blaster.

“Hunter, this isn’t going to help.” You hissed as you reluctantly did as he said and drew your blaster.

“This thing destroyed this ship. I’m not taking any chances here.”

Wrecker attempted to stab it with the electrostaff but the creature simply snatched and swallowed it.

You, Hunter, and Wrecker let out a series of shots as the creature screeched and made to lunge for you. There wasn’t a fatal hit but luckily your actions seemed to be off putting enough as it retreated back up to the ceiling.

The four of you stayed on guard but it was then that the power came back on so at least that made seeing this thing an easier task.

Any relief at having actual light was short lived for a rattle behind you saw you all turn to see the animal again only this time it didn’t hesitate to charge at you all.

You- thanks to your Force abilities- were able to dive over it and Hunter reacted quickly enough to grab Omega and jump out of the way. Wrecker unfortunately got knocked to the side.

The four of you sent a round of blaster fire down the corridor after the creature but it was too fast and too slinky for any shot to find a weak point and it turned around the corridor out of sight.

“Tech, we’ve got a problem. Get off the ship. Now!” Hunter urged into his comm.

--

Tech was already running as he replied, “I suspect this is some type of research vessel.”

--

“We know!” You said as the four of you ran through the corridors whilst keeping an eye out for any sign of the creature.

“And whatever they were researching just got loose.” Omega added.

“And it’s headed your way.” Hunter informed him.

--

You all rounded the corner to be met with an incredibly bizarre sight: the creature appeared to be feeding off the electricity coming from one of the power outlets on the ship and the creature itself seemed to be using it as a way to… grow?

“Does that thing look different to you?” Wrecker asked nervously.

It did but again, something about this animal was striking some degree of familiarity in you and you were infuriated that you couldn’t think of how or why that was the case.

Tech had appeared on the opposite side of the corridor, but he came to an abrupt halt as he witnessed what this animal was doing. He was not deterred by the fact that now its attention was on him, in fact he liked that it gave him a brief moment to study it. “Fascinating.” He murmured to himself as he watched the electrical energy be absorbed by the animal.

The four of you weren’t prepared to let the creature get closer to him. You opened fire once more to distract it.

“Take cover.” Tech ordered you all as he pointed his blaster to one of the power outlets.

Wrecker picked up Omega and turned to shield her body with his own whilst Hunter did the same with you, minus the picking up part.

Tech fired the shot.

The explosion created a hole in the ship which gave the creature the chance to slip away.

You all followed it out but lost sight of it in the woods.

Tech lowered his visor and saw the fading heat signature of the animal. “The creature appears to be headed in the direction of the village.”

“We’re the ones who let it out. We have to neutralize it before it hurts anyone.” Hunter said.

“How? Our blasters our useless on it.” Wrecker countered.

“Given the fact that the crew was most likely eaten by the creature, I doubt it is currently hungry-” Tech said nonchalantly.

“It ate the crew?” Omega interrupted, backing into you with fear.

You laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “How is that helping, Tech?” You scolded.

“It ate the crew.” Omega repeated breathlessly.

“Just stop.” You advised as you saw Tech getting ready to say something else.

“Access the lab files and find out what species we’re dealing with and how to stop it.” Hunter directed Tech.

“Mmm, I can help.” Omega offered, finding her courage again. “I know my way around Kaminoan tech.”

“Go.” Hunter said. “You two, with me.” Hunter ordered you and Wrecker and the three of you set off for the ship.

--

“Hunter, if we can’t take care of this thing before it hurts anyone, you need to let me at least try my way.” You said as you got into the co-pilot’s seat whilst he got the ship in the air.

“I know.” Hunter agreed. He regretted not letting you do it earlier, he’d let emotion be the ruling judgement in the heat of the moment. Balancing both his professional and personal relationship with you was something he was still finessing.

“See anything?” Wrecker called from the gun turret as he scanned the woods below.

You looked at the scopes. “Zero, two, five.”

Wrecker saw it then. It was moving fast. His shots couldn’t make a hit and it disappeared from view.

“Did you get it?” Hunter asked.

“No.” Wrecker grunted.

--

Tech had managed to infiltrate the lab’s files. “Look at this.” He said to Omega as he examined the information on his datapad. “These appear to be designs using the creature’s genetic material for modified armour plating. That must be why it was unaffected by our blaster fire.”

“Then how do we stop it?” Omega asked.

“Uncertain.” Tech unplugged and moved on to the next panel. “However, this confirms that the species feeds on energy, which propels its rapid growth.”

“You mean it’ll get even bigger?!”

Tech’s eyes widened as he stared at the information on the screen. “Yes. Much bigger.”

--

Your jaw dropped as you watched out the window as the ship past over the woods. The creature had reached a power plant and had drastically transformed and then it hit you. “Hey, I recognise it now!” You hadn’t been there the day Coruscant was attacked but you had seen the holonet reports and the images were pretty memorable.

“You recognise it?” Hunter repeated, stunned.

“I wasn’t there and I’m blanking on what it’s called but it attacked Coruscant a few years ago.” It was then that Tech’s voice came through the comms and confirmed what you were saying.

“Hunter, the creature is the same species that attacked Coruscant during the war. You must not let it get near the power grid or it will increase exponentially in size.”

Yeah, you were pretty clued into that now. “We were a bit late on that one, Tech.” You responded as the creature spotted your ship and let out a roar.

Hunter took evasive action but not before the creature’s tail collided with the side of the ship.

“Still want me to drop you off?” Hunter glanced at you as he righted the ship.

You grimaced. “Uh maybe not right now.” The animal was too aggressive now, too scared and felt to threatened. There would be no room for you to work your way into forming any kind of bond with it. If it really came down to it, you would go but it didn’t need to happen right away yet.

Hunter was quietly relieved although he knew that if things got too out of hand, you would be the only option they had left.

--

The best strategy you guys had come up with to protect the village was being the source of distraction. Wrecker continuously opened fire on it but it was having no effect.

“Stop it before it gets any larger.” Hunter said to Wrecker.

“I’m trying!” Wrecker shouted back.

You took a deep breath. “Hunter, you gotta put me in there.” It was the only other option you had.

Hunter’s jaw clenched but he nodded.

You moved towards the door but just as Hunter got the ship in position, the alarms went off. “We’ve got ships on our tail.” He swerved the ship out the way as they opened fire.

You stumbled backwards. “Where’d they come from?” You said as you righted yourself and Gonky before you went back to the cockpit. There was no chance of you getting down to the animal now.

“Hold on.” Hunter signalled as he kicked the ship into high gear.

“Tech, Omega, you’ve got Imperial inbound. Get out of there.” You said urgently into you comm.

--

Omega picked up her comm as she heard your voice. “On our way.” She replied before she looked to Tech who showed no signs of hustle as he stared at his datapad. “Tech, let’s go.”

“Not yet. I am not finished transferring all of the data.”

An explosion sounded outside, and the ship shook with the impact of it and the power went out.

“Come on.” Omega implored before she started to run.

Tech followed her but their way off the ship was tricky as it was starting to fall apart. The explosions continued to surround them. They managed to vacate it but not before a series of ships passed overhead and fired down at the wreckage.

Tech grabbed Omega and took cover from the resulting large explosion behind a larger piece of debris as the ship got completely destroyed.

--

You were too busy avoiding the other Imperial ships to see what exactly had been done to the creature, all you caught sight of was the power plant exploding. “They’re not killing it. They’re taking it.” You murmured as you saw the now unconscious creature being taken up into another Imperial ship. What could the Empire possibly want with something like that?

“Let’s not be next.” Hunter said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hunter, they’re going to take that village.” You said quietly, unhappily, as you caught sight of some ships taking up position in front of the houses, but you knew that there was nothing you could do. You were outnumbered and Tech and Omega needed you guys to get them out.

“We can’t help them.” Hunter said regretfully. He wished they could, but they’d be no good to anyone if they were dead and if they didn’t get out of here soon, that’s how they would wind up and Tech and Omega needed out of there too.

--

Tech and Omega paused for breath and Tech tapped into his comm. “Hunter, we’re clear of the vessel and heading to the landing zone.”

“Copy that.” Hunter acknowledged and he got the ship in position. He didn’t let it land though, there were too many ships on their tail to do that. The best he could do was slow it down and open the main doors.

Tech leaped onto the stairs and grabbed Omega’s hand as she jumped up after him to get her secure. The two of them made their way into the ship and sat, with Tech making sure Omega’s safety support was down first before he did his own.

Hunter got the ship out of there and sent it into hyperspace.

--

“The crashed vessel was part of the Imperial cloning operation.” Tech informed the rest of you as he sat in front of one of the control panels in the ship corridor.

“The Empire cloned the Zillo Beast?” You echoed as you stood behind Tech’s chair and studied the information on the screen.

“Yes and no.” Tech responded. “The directive came straight from the Supreme Chancellor before he became Emperor.”

“What’s he want with it?” Wrecker asked.

“The creature’s genetic material has the potential to be weaponized in the hands of the right scientist.”

“Where were they taking the creature?” Hunter asked his brother.

“Unknown. The ship did not have a destination logged. Hunter, there is far more to this than we realised. From what I have gathered, I suspect the Empire did not destroy the cities on Kamino to end cloning.”

“They wanted to control it.” You said softly but there was a hint of anger in your voice.

“Indeed.” Tech said in agreement.

Hunter set off towards the cockpit but paused hallway and turned back to face Tech. “Send the data to Echo and Rex. See what they can find out.”

--

Daro

“Doctor. The creature has been recovered and is now safely secured below.”

“Good. And our other guest?”

“The shuttle is arriving now.”

The doctor set off towards the landing platform with a squad of troopers. “Did any of the villagers see the Zillo?” He asked the leader.

“Several. The locals have been detained and will be dealt with. However, one vessel escaped our assault. It was a military class shuttle.”

“Find out who it was.”

“Yes sir.”

The doctor watched on ahead as the shuttle landed. “Hello, Prime Minister.” He greeted the Kaminoan as he came off the ship. “Apologies. Former Prime Minister.”

“Why have I been brought here?”

“The cooperation of you chief scientist has not been forthcoming. Nale Se’s defiance is problematic.”

“It must be frustrating to have your resources but lack the expertise to achieve your goal. And if you fail to convince her, it won’t be long before you are in a cell like me.”

The doctor was not intimidated. “I fear you misunderstand your situation here. If you know of a way to persuade the scientist, now would be the time to mention it.”

“Indeed. In exchange for my freedom.”

“I’m listening.”

“There is a particular clone you must locate. A young girl. She is the key to controlling Nala Se.”

“How very interesting.” The doctor invited him to follow him inside. “It seems we have much to discuss.”

Next Chapter>

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