my boredom's bone deep / this cage was once just fine / am i allowed to cry? / crashing into him tonight, he's a paradox / i'm seeing visions, am i bad? / or mad? or wise? | joe burrow⁹ (part 1/4)
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⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 12.1k
⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | trapped in a relationship that feels more like a losing game, you find yourself drawn to the one person you shouldn’t want—the one who sees you, the one who listens, the one who makes you feel alive. but temptation is a dangerous thing, and once you’ve had a taste of something real, there’s no going back.
⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | lots and LOTS of angst, switching between second and third person (it'll make sense and it's only for a couple of scenes where it's needed) slow-burn tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, toxic relationships, manipulation, emotional turmoil, guilt and desire intertwining in the worst ways, heavy themes of self-discovery and repression, morally gray decisions
⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | okay guys, i couldn't resist... here is another long ass joe burrow mini-series because taylor swift has struck me with creativity... AGAIN. this will be a 4 parter and it will have a happy ending, but for now... just enjoy the slow burning of it and hate my made-up bengals player -- miles !
You used to think love was supposed to feel like this—steady, predictable, something you could fold into like freshly washed sheets. You and Miles had been together so long that your names practically rhymed in people’s mouths, like you were one of those inseparable, inevitable couples that just made sense.
And for a while, it did make sense. You were the girl on his arm at every event, the perfectly curated extension of his success. The engagement ring—a little too big, a little too heavy—sat on your finger like a trophy of its own. A prize.
But lately, it felt like Miles had stopped seeing you as anything more than that. A fixture in his life, expected and unremarkable. Like the luxury watch he only wore on game days or the expensive car he barely drove. You were always there, always waiting, always his. And he loved that, in the way someone loves knowing their favorite shirt will still be in the closet when they reach for it.
You just weren’t sure you loved it anymore.
