#RAW in Baltimore

[youtappedout]

[raw1111official]

🌺🥑🌱🥦 Explore "Maryland's Vegan Vibes: A Delicious Journey Through History" on RAW1111.COM! 🌿🍅 Savor the flavors and stories. #GVWU Go Vegan With Us and enjoy the journey! 🌱✨

[honeydippedfiction]

No Huddle, No Strings {JB9}

Navigation

Synopsis: When rising R&B star Y/N meets star quarterback Joe Burrow during her tour stop, neither of them is looking for love — but tension, temptation, and a no-strings arrangement change everything. Between city lights, stadium crowds, and stolen moments, they learn that sometimes the best plays are the ones you never planned.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes, Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Mature Themes, Mild Public Attention.

Themes: Slow Burn to Situationship, Fame & Performance Pressure, Flirtation & Tension, Modern Romance, Group Dynamics, Female Empowerment, “No Strings” Situationship, & Luxury Lifestyle.

WC: 17.5k

A/N: Yup I have once again started a new mini series just bc I can.

Join my Taglists here or message me

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Part 2

Y/N was already carving her own lane in the industry.

An upcoming Black singer and actress, she was right on the edge of her breakout. Her name had started to bubble up on music blogs and casting directors' shortlists. She wasn’t a household name — yet — but people were definitely paying attention. One minute she was uploading covers and original tracks to Instagram from her bedroom, and the next, she was being flown out for meetings with record execs and reading scripts for pilots backed by major streaming platforms.

Her voice — rich, emotional, laced with soul — had that kind of depth you couldn’t teach. It was the kind of sound that made people stop mid-scroll. And her acting? Natural, raw, and full of range. She brought characters to life like she’d lived a thousand lives before this one.

She’d recently wrapped her first supporting role in an upcoming drama series, and the early buzz around her performance was glowing. The media had started to call her “one of the voices to watch in 2024,” and brands were already knocking, hoping to catch her on the rise.

Still, none of the glitz changed who she was — a Baltimore girl at heart. Which is why, when the NFL reached out and asked her to perform the National Anthem at the Ravens vs. Bengals game, she didn’t hesitate. Singing for her hometown team? It wasn’t just another stage. It was a full-circle moment.

And she wasn’t going to miss it for the world.

She came to the Baltimore Ravens vs. Cincinnati Bengals game to support her Ravens — her hometown ride-or-dies. This was personal. Singing the National Anthem under the lights, in front of a packed stadium, was a full-circle moment. One that little Y/N would’ve dreamed about while wearing her oversized Ed Reed jersey in front of the TV.

Before the performance, she got the chance to float around the sidelines, guided by a PR handler who seemed just as excited to introduce her as she was to be there. “Y/N, this is Marlon Humphrey,” the handler said, motioning to the Ravens cornerback.

Marlon gave her a dap and a warm smile. “Oh, you the voice we heard warming up earlier? Yeah, that gave me chills.”

She laughed. “Just tryna do right by the city.”

Another player called out, “Make sure y’all don’t cry when she starts hittin’ them high notes!”

She grinned, clearly in her element.

But then came the surprise — a detour to the Bengals sideline. She wasn’t here for them, but when she was introduced to Ja’Marr Chase, Tee Higgins, and Joe Burrow, it felt like the game paused for a second.

Joe Burrow, Ja’Marr Chase, and Tee Higgins, standing casually near the Bengals bench, all suited up, pads on, helmets off. They looked like walking Nike ads. It was disrespectful how good-looking they were, honestly.

Yo,” Ja’Marr said with a nod when she approached. “You the one singing tonight?”

“That’s me,” she said, trying to stay cool.“

“You got that 'bout-to-break-the-Internet look going already,” Tee joked, eyes scanning her fit.

Joe stepped forward, offering his hand. “Joe. You probably already knew that.”

“I’ve heard,” she said, shaking his hand. His grip was warm, confident. His blue eyes locked on hers for a second longer than necessary.

Ja’Marr grinned immediately. “Okay, so who told y’all to bring a superstar over here?”

“I think she brought the spotlight with her,” Tee said, giving her an obvious once-over — not in a rude way, just appreciative. “Y’all know she’s in that new Amazon show, right?”

Joe stepped forward. “Big fan already. I saw the trailer last week.” His voice was calm, low, smooth. Eyes locked onto hers like he wasn’t just saying it to be polite.

“Appreciate it,” Y/N said with a soft smile. “But tonight, I’m just the anthem girl.”

“You sure about that?” Joe asked, one brow raised. “'Cause you’re stealing the whole show and it hasn’t even started.” She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped. “You Bengals boys are real smooth.” Tee nudged Ja’Marr. “Man, let her sing. She’s gonna have us all emotional before kickoff.”

“Y’all acting nervous,” she teased.

“Nah,” Ja’Marr said. “Just starstruck.” “You nervous?” Ja’Marr asked. She smirked. “Not at all. You?” He let out a laugh. “Aight, bet.” Joe tilted his head slightly. “You’re from Baltimore, right?”

“Born and raised.”

“So you’re rooting against us tonight.”

“Obviously.”

Tee leaned in. “Damn, she bold.”

“Just honest,” she shot back, grinning.

“Alright, we need a pic with the star of the night,” Ja'Marr said, already motioning to one of her media team members.

They lined up — her in the middle, flanked by Bengals, all smiles. Joe rested a hand gently on the small of her back. The camera flashed. “You’re gonna kill it,” he said under his breath as they broke apart. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Watch me.”

The roar of the stadium was still buzzing in Y/N’s ears long after the National Anthem ended and the Ravens-Bengals game had kicked off. She stood on the sidelines for a few minutes longer, soaking in the energy, the cheers, the tension. She was there to support her Ravens, of course — she was Baltimore born and raised — but her purpose tonight was bigger than the scoreboard.

She’d just delivered a soulful, goosebump-worthy rendition of the anthem in a fitted black trench coat that sparkled like the night sky under the stadium lights. Her team had snapped photos of her belting the final note, the flag behind her, and a few more candid ones — her laughing with some of the Ravens players, then a couple with Bengals wide receivers Ja'Marr Chase and Tee Higgins. And, to her own surprise… a photo with Joe Burrow.

She wasn’t blind. The Bengals’ QB was easy on the eyes — tall, calm, with a smirk that could melt screens. But still. Y/N wasn’t here for all that.

Her Instagram feed lit up minutes after the game with a carousel her media team posted: 📸 National Anthem moment. 📸 Laughing with a couple Ravens. 📸 Standing between Ja'Marr and Tee, both grinning. 📸 One with Joe, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, both of them mid-laugh.

The tags were there. The captions were simple. The internet, predictably, went nuts.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back at her hotel, the post-game adrenaline still thrumming through her, Y/N was in her suite's bathroom, putting finishing touches on her edges and lip gloss before dinner. She was humming something new she’d been writing, when—

“Y/N!!”

Her best friend Kayla’s voice came slicing through the suite like a siren. “What?” Y/N called, not even turning around. She expected another over-the-top comment about her voice cracking the internet. “You got a DM, girl. Guess who.” Kayla’s voice was already reaching a pitch of scandalous excitement.

Y/N stepped into the bedroom, one brow raised. “From who?” Kayla held up the phone, her eyes wide, glowing like she’d seen Beyoncé herself. “Joe. Freaking. Burrow.”

Y/N blinked. “Nah.”

“YEAH.”

“Nooo…”

Kayla turned the phone toward her with all the drama of a movie reveal. “And I quote: ‘You sounded amazing tonight. Think I just became a Ravens fan… but don’t tell the guys. 😉’”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, groaning. “Girl, no. Nope. I am not about to get distracted.”

Kayla, undeterred, unlocked the phone with Y/N’s passcode and read the DM again, grinning hard. “Girl if you don’t climb this white boy like a TREE—”

“I do not have time for this!” Y/N said, laughing despite herself. “I’ve got rehearsals tomorrow, soundcheck, a whole damn show!”

“And what better way to unwind after the show than with a cute little flirt session?” Kayla flopped on the bed. “At least invite him to the soundcheck. That man looked like he’d be on time. Respectful. Fine.”

Y/N gave her a look.

“And his friends too,” Kayla added with a smirk. “That number 5? Tee? He looks like he knows how to give it good.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You are wild.”

Kayla shrugged. “I’m not wrong.”

The phone buzzed again. Another message from Joe popped up: “No pressure. Just thought I’d shoot my shot. You crushed that anthem.” Y/N stared at it for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. Then she sighed, snatched the phone from Kayla, and started typing.

“Thanks, Mr. QB1. You clean up alright yourself. If you’re still in town, pull up to my show tomorrow. I’ll save a spot for you and your boys.”

Pause. She added a wink emoji. Hit send. Kayla squealed. Y/N shook her head. “I’m not catching feelings.”

Kayla winked. “Nope. Just catching flights and flirting with quarterbacks.”

Joe’s phone buzzed as he sat back in his hotel room, one ankle crossed over his knee, game tape playing quietly in the background — not that he was watching it. Not really.

His mind kept drifting back to earlier that night — the game, yeah, but mostly her. Y/N.

He wasn’t usually thrown off by much. Being a quarterback, especially this quarterback, meant staying cool under pressure. But something about her on that field had stuck with him. The confidence. The voice. The way she didn’t fawn over him like most people did when they recognized him. She was real. Funny. Sharp.

And beautiful? Yeah. But it wasn’t just that.

She had presence.

He’d seen the photos she posted — the one with him, Ja'Marr, and Tee included. He didn’t even hate the way he looked in it, which said something. Still, he almost didn’t send the message. He wasn’t the type to slide into DMs. But after running through the “should I/shouldn’t I” loop for a full hour, he figured: screw it.

No pressure. Just thought I’d shoot my shot. You crushed that anthem.Sent.

Then, silence. He set his phone down and tried to refocus, flipping through the playbook, but glanced over every few seconds. The screen stayed dark. His brain taunted him: Told you.

Then — buzz.

He grabbed it faster than he meant to.

Thanks, Mr. QB1. You clean up alright yourself. If you’re still in town, pull up to my show tomorrow. I’ll save a spot for you and your boys. 😉

A grin tugged at his lips. He leaned back, letting the phone rest on his chest, eyes still on the message. Smooth. Confident. Just like her. He opened a new message.

I wouldn't miss it. And if you're saving spots, I’m calling dibs on front row. Just for research purposes. Gotta see if the voice hits just as hard live. 😉

He hit send, chuckling to himself. Joe may not have planned on being in Baltimore past the game, but after that message? Yeah… He was definitely extending the trip.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The next day moved fast — soundcheck days always did. Y/N was in full go-mode, bouncing between vocal warmups, makeup touch-ups, and outfit approvals while her best friend/dancer Kayla kept the energy high.

“Okay but why is this bodysuit giving superhero?” Kayla said, twisting in front of the mirror in the green room.

Y/N smirked as she pulled on her thigh-high boots. “Because we are about to shut it down. I need all the bad bitch energy tonight.”

Kayla nodded, flipping her hair dramatically. “Say less. We’re giving power, pussy, and precision.”

Y/N laughed but refocused, pacing the room softly as her soundcheck crew called in updates through her in-ear. She was used to the routine by now, but today felt different. Her body was still carrying the buzz from last night — the stadium, the crowd, and… that DM from Joe Burrow.

She hadn’t told anyone she invited him — not even her manager. Kayla knew, obviously. Kayla always knew. But Y/N didn’t want to give the media, or her own imagination, anything more to feed off. Still… she couldn’t deny the way her stomach fluttered just thinking about him showing up.

Her music wasn’t shy — it was bold, playful, sexy. A blend of Doja Cat’s slick confidence, Latto’s grit, and Sabrina Carpenter’s sugar-laced sensuality. She didn’t just sing about desire — she made it a performance. This was her power, and she was stepping into it fully.

Out front, Y/N’s manager, Carmen, greeted a group walking in through the venue’s side door.

Four men. All tall, all dressed down but still unmistakable. Joe, Tee, Ja’Marr, and Sam Hubbard.

Carmen’s brows raised slightly — she had no idea this was happening, but she recovered quickly.

“Hey! I’m Carmen, Y/N’s manager.” She reached out to shake Joe’s hand, then the others. “I heard she extended an invite, huh?”

Joe gave that cool half-smile. “Yeah. We didn’t want to miss it.”

“Well, she’s in the green room getting ready, but you’re welcome to hang here at front of house,” she said, gesturing to the open space by the soundboard. “You’ll get a great view. She’s about to start soundcheck.”

As they walked over, Tee leaned in to Ja’Marr. “You think she’s actually gonna remember us?”

Ja’Marr smirked. “I think she remembers him.”

Joe said nothing, just looked out at the stage — empty for now, lights low. But he could already picture it. Her. Mic in hand. Owning the room.

Sam chuckled, nudging Joe. “You nervous, bro?”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Just here to support the music.”

“Sure,” Tee muttered, grinning. “Support. Uh-huh.”

Carmen looked over her shoulder. “She’ll be out in two.”

Back in the green room, Y/N checked herself in the mirror one last time — her curls in a half up half down style, light makeup, a black crop top paired with a leather skort hugging every curve like it was designed just for her.

“You look like a damn problem,” Kayla said, leaning in the doorway.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. “Good.”

Because she knew who was waiting out there.

And this? This was just the beginning.

From backstage, Kayla leaned just enough around the heavy black curtain to get a peek at the front of house.

She spotted them immediately.

“Whew. Girl,” she whispered dramatically, pulling back with wide eyes. “Your man is here.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, fixing the strap on her bra. “He is not my man.”

Kayla grinned. “Mmhm. Joe Burrow, just casually standing out there lookin’ like an NFL ad — all calm, tall, and white-boy-seasoned. And the rest of his Avengers squad’s with him.”

Y/N groaned, but her smile gave her away.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing Kayla’s wrist. “Let’s go say hi before you start narrating this like it’s a Wattpad story.”

They weaved through the maze of black cases, cables, and crewmembers toward the open space at the front of house, where the guys stood chatting with Y/N’s sound engineer, Malik, laughing about something none of them would probably admit to later.

As soon as the group noticed Y/N and Kayla approaching, the conversation paused like someone had hit mute.

Joe’s eyes landed on her first. He smiled — slow, real — and stepped forward instinctively, hands tucked in his jacket pockets.

“Didn’t want to miss the pre-show magic,” he said.

Y/N raised a brow. “You mean soundcheck? This is the part where I pretend I’m not sweating under this outfit.”

Tee laughed. “You make it look easy.”

Y/N gave him a playful side-eye. “That’s the point.”

Kayla chimed in, “Be honest, y’all just came to see her in this skirt.”

Ja’Marr grinned. “I mean… you’re not wrong.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Didn’t your team just lose to mine last night?”

Ja’Marr held up both hands. “Damn. Friendly fire.”

Joe chuckled, and Sam gave a low whistle like he’d just witnessed a flag-worthy play.

“But really,” Y/N said, smoothing a hand over her curls, “I’m glad y’all came. I’m gonna run a couple songs, test levels, in-ears, all that fun stuff. You’ll see the whole thing.”

“You think we haven’t heard your music already?” Tee asked.

Y/N tilted her head. “Have you?”

Before anyone else could answer, Ja’Marr cut in with that trademark smirk. “Us? Fake fans? Please. We’re not you, Miss Baltimore turned Bengal.”

The whole group laughed, even Joe, who shook his head slowly like he saw that one coming.

Y/N pointed at Ja’Marr, amused. “You got jokes, huh? Keep playin’ with me, I’ll make you my backup dancer tonight. You got rhythm or just routes?”

“Ooooh,” Kayla chimed, fanning the air.

Ja’Marr bowed in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll behave.”

“Good,” Y/N said with a wink. “Now, enjoy the free preview. We start in five.”

She turned with Kayla, heading back toward the stage entrance.

Joe watched her go, and for a moment, he forgot there were other people around him.

Tee nudged him, muttering under his breath, “Yeah… you real lowkey about this one, huh?”

Joe just smirked. “I’m just here for the music.”

As Y/N turned to head backstage, her best friend, Kayla, couldn't help but catch the way Joe’s eyes followed her. Even as she walked away, his gaze stayed locked on her, a little too intent, a little too… lingering.

Kayla raised her brows, a teasing grin spreading across her face as she nudged Y/N. "Ohhh, girl, you see that? His eyes never left you."

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying to stay composed as she walked faster, but Kayla kept up with her, now practically bouncing with excitement.

“Definitely thinking about something,” Kayla added with a mischievous wink. “Something real... fitting for that little outfit of yours.”

Y/N shot her a look. “Kayla, please. You need to chill.”

But Kayla only shrugged, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, I’m just saying, you might wanna check if the man’s about to throw a touchdown or a date proposal your way.” She looked over her shoulder toward where Joe stood with the guys, his expression still unreadable but totally locked on her.

Y/N pinched her best friend’s arm hard enough to make her yelp. “You’re wild.”

Kayla pouted but couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes. “You’re welcome. Just keeping you aware, in case he’s ready to make moves.”

Y/N groaned, but even she had to admit — that look from Joe? It felt different than just a casual fan thing.

“Whatever,” she muttered, trying to focus on the soundcheck. "Let’s just get this over with. I need to hit these notes, not flirt with quarterbacks."

But Kayla didn’t let up. “You’re not fooling me, Y/N. I see you about to score in more ways than one tonight.”

Y/N shot her a side-eye. “I’m seriously not catching feelings.”

Kayla winked. “Nah, you’re just catching flights and flirting with quarterbacks. It’s cool, I got you.”

Y/N shook her head, finally breaking into a smile. “Okay, you’re so extra.”

The lights dimmed in the venue, and the stage was bathed in soft, cool blue hues, giving everything a sleek, almost ethereal glow. Y/N stepped back onto the stage for soundcheck, every inch of her commanding attention. Her boots clicked on the stage floor, sharp and steady, like a countdown to something major.

As the band set up, Kayla was already in position, her body language giving away the anticipation. The dancers stretched and prepped, glancing over at Y/N with nods of encouragement.

The moment the beat dropped, Y/N swayed effortlessly into the opening bars, her voice a perfect blend of silky and fierce. The first song was a banger — a blend of playful confidence, unapologetic energy, and sultry, pop-driven sensuality. It was electric. And it was all Y/N.

Her voice floated seamlessly, layering with the bass and smooth melodies while her body moved with precision. The choreography was tight — sharp, sultry, and fierce all at once, each movement calculated to bring out the best in the song. Her dancers were synchronized perfectly, as if they were extensions of herself, amplifying the energy.

She nailed the high notes effortlessly, sending chills through the room. Kayla was in the front row, her eyes glued to her best friend, watching Y/N like she was watching a star in her element.

“Yes, girl!” Kayla called out, her voice echoing off the walls. Y/N shot her a quick wink, then turned to the mic again, belting out another verse with full power.

Everything — the choreography, the vocals, the entire performance — was pristine. Perfect. Just the way she liked it.

Malik, her sound engineer, nodded approvingly from the side, keeping an eye on the monitors. “You’re killing it, Y/N. Keep that tempo, keep that energy.”

Y/N gave him a quick thumbs-up, confident but focused. This wasn’t the first soundcheck, but it was one of the smoothest. Everything flowed effortlessly, like she was born to do this.

As the last note of the song echoed out, the beat faded into the silence of the venue. She paused, eyes scanning the space as the dancers took their last position. The crowd wasn’t here yet, but Y/N felt that invisible pull — the same rush she got every time she hit a stage, every time the music swirled around her and she lost herself in it.

The team clapped, cheering her on.

“Perfect, as always,” Kayla said, coming up to her side.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “This one’s gonna be fire. I’m telling you.”

Before she could say anything else, Joe, Ja'Marr, Tee, and Sam appeared at the edge of the stage, quietly watching, their eyes glued to her every move. Y/N could feel the weight of their gaze, especially Joe’s, but she kept her focus sharp.

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t break a sweat.

"You guys good?" she asked, casually walking over to the edge of the stage where they were standing.

Joe gave her a slow, appreciative nod. “More than good. That was... wow.”

Tee grinned. “Man, you should definitely go on tour with that energy. You made this look easy.”

Ja'Marr added with his signature smirk, “I’m just saying, this show already beat last night’s game. And that was supposed to be the highlight of my weekend.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, letting the light teasing slide. “I’d argue, but you’re right. My performance’s gonna be way better than that Ravens/Bengals game.”

Sam, ever the quiet one, just gave her a nod of approval, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes softened, though, as if he was seeing her in a whole new light.

“Damn,” he said quietly. “You’re about to make this crowd lose their minds.”

Y/N smirked, glancing over her shoulder at Kayla and the crew. “That’s the plan.”

Joe, still watching her, spoke up again. “You mind if we stick around for the show?” His voice was casual, but there was something deeper beneath the surface — something like... anticipation.

Y/N met his gaze, a hint of a smile curling on her lips. “Of course. Grab a seat. Just don’t expect to be able to breathe by the end of it.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The clock was ticking down. The show was getting closer to starting, but before Y/N could hit the stage, there was one more thing to do: the VIP meet-and-greet.

She was in her green room, quickly checking herself over in the mirror one last time. The bodysuit was still on point, her makeup flawless, and her energy was electric. She wasn’t nervous—that wasn’t her style—but there was always a little extra buzz before she interacted with her die-hard fans.

The VIP package included a photo session, a Q&A, a game (nothing too crazy, just fun), and a special acoustic performance that she’d prepped for. Y/N loved the intimate moments with fans — it was one of the few times she could really connect and see the impact her music had on people. But today, she had a special request for her football friends.

She turned to Kayla, who was sitting in a chair, scrolling through her phone. "Hey, I’m about to start with the VIPs. You think the guys can come hang in here, chill out for a bit?”

Kayla raised an eyebrow. "You want them in here, dodging your fans?"

Y/N shrugged with a mischievous smile. "Why not? They’ll get a break before the madness kicks off. They can hide in here, watch me handle my business, and then get a front-row seat for the show."

Kayla chuckled, shaking her head. “You’ve got the right idea. Bet Joe’s down for that.”

A few minutes later, Joe, Tee, Ja'Marr, and Sam made their way into the green room, careful to avoid the maze of fans that were already starting to line up outside the venue. The room instantly felt a little more laid-back with them there — even with the energy of the show buzzing through the walls.

"Nice hideout," Joe commented, looking around at the cozy green room filled with Y/N’s crew, a couple of comfy chairs, and a couch. "I thought you’d be drowning in fans by now."

Y/N grinned. "They’re out there, but I’m gonna let them wait a bit longer. You guys need anything before I head out there?"

"Some food would be nice," Tee joked, but Ja'Marr elbowed him, his eyes dancing with mischief. "He’s always hungry. You’re not fooling anyone."

Sam smiled softly from his corner, hands still in his pockets, but his eyes were alert, taking everything in.

Kayla stood up, already reaching for the snacks table in the corner. "We’ve got chips, candy, protein bars, the works. You know, the real backstage essentials."

Y/N rolled her eyes. "Yeah, real gourmet stuff."

Joe shrugged, settling onto the couch with his legs spread comfortably. "Gourmet or not, I’ll take it."

Y/N flashed him a knowing smile. "No one’s judging you here, Mr. QB1. Take a load off. It’s gonna be a few minutes before the chaos hits, so you might as well get comfortable."

Just then, her manager, Carmen, knocked on the door, entering with a quick smile. "Alright, we’re about five minutes out. VIPs are ready for you, Y/N."

Y/N nodded, her pulse picking up just a little. The Q&A session and acoustic performance always gave her a rush. It was personal, it was raw, and it was a reminder of why she did all of this in the first place — for the fans who supported her.

She turned to the guys. "Alright, well, you guys get to chill here. Feel free to hang out, watch the madness, but don’t get too comfortable. You’ll want to be front and center when I hit the stage."

Joe raised his eyebrows, looking around at the group. "I think we’re already comfy enough."

Ja'Marr nodded, looking like he was mentally preparing himself. "We’ll make sure we’re ready for the show, don’t worry. But I gotta say, watching you run things like this? Pretty impressive."

Y/N gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, but her mind was already moving on to the next thing. "Appreciate it. Now, I gotta go give these fans a little magic."

Kayla followed her out the door, but before she did, she turned back to the guys. "No funny business, alright? If she comes back here and y’all are missing, I swear I’ll make you run a lap around the block."

The guys all laughed, and Joe gave a mock salute. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Y/N grinned and walked out into the VIP area, where her die-hard fans were ready and waiting to meet her. She was ready for them, and ready to leave an impression on them just like she did with the guys.

The moment Y/N stepped into the VIP lounge, the energy shifted.

Cameras were already out. Her fans — a group of maybe 30 lucky ones — instantly erupted into soft gasps and whispers, a few louder cheers breaking through.

“OMG she’s so pretty in person.” “She’s wearing the boots from the video!” “She smells like expensive skin care and success, I just know it.”

Y/N smiled and waved, radiating confidence. “Hey y’all,” she said, voice sweet but commanding. “Thank you for coming early — y’all are real ones.”

They ate it up. One girl in the front clutched her signed vinyl like it was a sacred object. A couple fans had even made shirts with her lyrics printed across the front.

“Y’all really showed out,” Y/N said, pausing in front of one of the shirts. “‘Talk to me nice or not at all’? Okay, that’s a deep cut!”

The girl beamed. “It’s my favorite! That song got me through the worst breakup of my life.”

“I love that,” Y/N said, her tone softening. “That’s why I do this.”

After a round of photos — all angles, all poses, peace signs and fierce pouts alike — they shifted into Q&A mode, her team setting up a mic in the center aisle.

Someone asked about her songwriting process. Another wanted to know which music video she had the most fun filming. Someone else asked what cologne she made the male lead in her last video wear (that one made her laugh for a full minute).

But then came a question from a girl in the back, clearly nervous. “Um… is it true that you were at the Bengals game last night? Like… with Joe Burrow?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her smile tight but amused. “With Joe Burrow? Girl, I was singing the anthem. I was with America.”

The crowd howled.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back in the green room, the guys could hear the laughter from down the hall.

“She’s working the room like she’s running for office,” Tee said with a laugh, kicking back on the couch.

Joe tilted his head, listening closer. “She’s funny. Sharp.”

“She’s dangerous,” Ja’Marr added. “In a good way. Like, she’ll ruin your life and still get a standing ovation.”

Joe didn’t disagree. He couldn’t. His knee bounced a little as he sat there, trying to play it cool. But inside, he was… caught. Not in a deep, lovestruck way — not yet — but definitely hooked.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back in the lounge, Y/N gathered her guitar, stepping into the spotlight as her team adjusted a stool and handed her a mic.

“This next part is my favorite,” she said. “We’re gonna slow it down. No tracks. No lights. Just me, my guitar, and y’all.”

She strummed once, twice. The room went completely still.

Then she started to sing — a stripped-down version of her unreleased track, “Thigh High Lies.” Her voice melted into the silence, rich and slow, dripping with the sensual confidence that defined her sound. The lyrics were cheeky and sultry, biting but beautiful.

"You said you want real, I showed you the skinYou couldn’t handle the truth I’m inTold me I was ‘too much,’ baby that’s fine—I’d rather be too much than a waste of time."

By the end, the crowd was swaying, mouths slightly open. Some wiped tears. One girl mouthed, “She’s insane,” like she was witnessing Beyoncé’s origin story.

Y/N set the guitar down and gave them one more grin. “See y’all out there later. Bring the same energy — and don’t be shy when the beat drops.”

The room erupted into applause as she headed back toward the green room, her team buzzing around her.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

By the time Y/N returned to the green room, everything about her screamed main character energy.

She had changed into her actual show fit—a deep violet two-piece with glittering mesh sleeves, and thigh-high heeled boots.. Her hair was slicked up into a dramatic half up half down style that moved like a whip every time she turned her head.

The room paused. Even her team, who saw her every day, had to do a double take.

Kayla whistled. “Oh, you look like danger.”

Y/N smirked, applying one last swipe of gloss in the mirror. “That’s the point.”

Over by the corner couch, Joe, Tee, Ja’Marr, and Sam were all watching her warm up — quiet, low runs under her breath, a few neck rolls, then a bounce on her heels to shake off the nerves. Her body buzzed with the tension of pre-performance adrenaline, but her focus was dialed in.

She turned to them, ever the one to look out for others—even in her own moment.

“You guys figured out where you wanna watch from?” she asked, adjusting her in-ear pack. “If you stay side stage, you’ll catch all the behind-the-scenes madness. If you go out in the crowd, I can have my security keep an extra eye on you. Just say the word.”

The guys glanced at each other, like they hadn’t even thought about that part yet.

Joe stepped forward first. “We’ll hit the crowd. Front row. Don’t wanna cramp your space backstage.”

“You sure?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “No one’s gonna mess with you, but if someone tries it, I’m not above pausing a show.”

Ja’Marr laughed. “Now that I would pay to see.”

“We’ll be good,” Tee assured her. “But appreciate the lookout.”

Y/N nodded, serious again. “I don’t play when it comes to safety. Not for my fans, not for my team, not for y’all. Just let security know if anything gets weird.”

Sam, who hadn’t said much, gave her a respectful nod. “You’re something else, Y/N.”

She smiled, touched but still laser-focused. “I get that a lot.”

A knock at the door signaled her five-minute call. Her assistant peeked in, giving her the sign.

Y/N turned to the guys once more, her expression softening just a little. “Alright. I’m heading out there. Y’all enjoy the show — don’t blink, or you’ll miss the best parts.”

Joe offered her a hand. Not a handshake — just a brief touch. His fingers brushing hers, firm but warm. “You got this.”

Her lips curled into a confident smirk. “You know I do.”

Moments later, the guys were being escorted to the VIP barricade, front and center. Fans were already losing their minds, the lights dimming as the crowd buzzed in electric anticipation. Some recognized the players immediately — a few phones even pointed their way — but security kept a tight bubble around them, just like Y/N promised.

The lights dropped.

The music started.

And when Y/N took the stage — striding into the spotlight like she owned it, voice pouring through the speakers with that signature sensual power — Joe realized this wasn’t just a concert.

This was a woman in her element.

And he wasn’t just watching.

He was already falling.

The lights dropped. The bass rumbled like a heartbeat through the floor. A slow hush fell across the venue as fog started to curl out from the stage edges like smoke from a lit fuse.

Then—

Boom.

The first beat dropped, and the stage exploded in color.

Y/N rose from a platform lift center stage, hair whipping in the wind from the fans, spotlight cutting through the fog to land squarely on her glittering figure. The crowd screamed—a sound that echoed like a stadium roar.

Her voice hit the speakers, silky and biting.

“Boys like you don’t know what to do with girls like me…”

The band came in, dancers hit the stage, and just like that, the show erupted.

Y/N’s choreography was fire — sensual, controlled, hypnotic. She owned every move, her hips timed to every bassline like she was built for the beat. Her dancers moved around her like a constellation, enhancing her shine without ever dimming it.

Her setlist was stacked:

🔥 "Lip Locked" – a seductive banger with tongue-in-cheek lyrics and a strut-heavy routine 🔥 "Private Party" – the crowd sang every word, swaying under purple lights and strobes 🔥 "Control Freak" – choreo sharp enough to cut glass, with Kayla leading the charge beside her 🔥 "Thigh High Lies" (full version) – stripped back for one verse, then dropping into a full-on club mix halfway through, triggering a massive dance break 🔥 "Don’t Call Me Baby" – sassy, anthemic, a fan-favorite for every girl who blocked their ex last summer

At one point, she paused at the edge of the stage, looking out into the sea of bodies.

“Y’all still with me?” she asked, mic in one hand, other resting on her thigh.

The crowd lost their minds.

She laughed, breathless and glittering. “That’s what I like to hear.”

The visuals? Insane. Neon lights, LED panels flashing her lyrics, and holographic silhouettes that danced with her like a digital dream.

And vocals? Baby, she wasn’t lipsyncing — Y/N was belting. Hitting high notes, flipping into falsetto, and sliding into sultry runs that made fans scream and fall back like they caught the Holy Ghost. The girl could sang.

Even her in-between moments hit different.

“Y’all ever been in love with the wrong person?” she asked before launching into a slower song. Half the crowd yelled yes. “I wrote this one on a wine-fueled rant in my Notes app. It’s called ‘Blocked You Twice.’”

The crowd died laughing. And then she wrecked them with the vocal.

The final number was "Big Mood" — a bold, dance-heavy track with a beat that felt like it vibrated your spine. The lights flared gold and red, pyro shot from the stage sides, and Y/N commanded it all like a pop goddess.

She hit the final pose, spotlight catching the sweat glistening on her collarbone, chest rising and falling.

And then — blackout.

The crowd exploded.

Screams. Applause. Chants of her name.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

Her voice came over the mic one last time in the dark. “Thank you Baltimore for the love, the energy, and the vibe. I’ll see you real soon.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Backstage, as she came off into the wings, chest still heaving and a towel now draped around her neck, the energy was still surging in her blood.

She’d left it all out there.

And she knew they felt it.

Backstage, the sound of the crowd was still rumbling through the floor like an aftershock.

Y/N stepped into the hallway behind the stage, chest rising and falling as she wiped sweat from her brow with a towel. Her glitter makeup was slightly smudged, but it only added to the look — like war paint after battle. Her boots were heavy on her feet, but adrenaline kept her floating.

The crew was buzzing around her, congratulating her, high-fives flying. Kayla ran over, still hyped, curls bouncing.

“Girl. GIRL. You lit that place up. They were losing their minds.”

Y/N let out a laugh, breathless and a little hoarse. “Did you see the girl crying during ‘Blocked You Twice’? I felt that in my soul.”

Kayla clutched her heart. “We all did.”

Her manager, Carmen, swooped in with a bottle of water and a smile that said money well made.

“Interviews want you. Blog posts are already up. And—” she nodded down the hallway, “your football friends? Still waiting by the green room.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily pulled out of the post-show haze. “They stayed?”

Carmen grinned. “Every second. Didn’t even flinch. Burrow looked like he was studying film on you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, even as a smile tugged at her lips. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Okay, but he looked like he wanted to fuck mid-‘Thigh High Lies,’ and I don’t even blame him.”

Y/N took a long drink of water, then handed the bottle off and started walking toward the green room, Kayla by her side. “Don’t start, Kayla.”

Kayla just smirked. “I’m just saying. He’s not blinking and you’re over here dripping in sparkles and power. It’s giving… fate.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

He didn’t move when the lights went down.

Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Barely breathed.

Joe Burrow had been to Super Bowls, heard stadiums scream, felt adrenaline spike in the final seconds of overtime. But this?

This was something else.

She owned that stage like she was born in it. Every lyric. Every move. Every smile and snarl. He’d seen confidence before — hell, he lived it. But this was different. Y/N had this kind of magnetism that felt… dangerous.

When she looked out into the crowd — when she smirked or dropped a wink — it felt like she was looking straight at him, even though he knew better.

But that didn’t stop the heat that crawled down the back of his neck.

Tee nudged him as the lights came back up. “You good, man?”

Joe blinked. “Yeah. Just…”

“Caught up?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just nodded, running a hand over his jaw. “She’s got it.”

Ja’Marr leaned on the barricade, laughing. “You just now figured that out?”

Sam grinned. “Man’s down bad.”

But Joe wasn’t embarrassed. Not even a little. His eyes were still fixed on the stage where she’d stood just minutes ago.

“I gotta talk to her,” he said quietly.

And none of the guys argued.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Backstage, Y/N turned the final corner, slowing when she saw them.

The guys were leaning against the wall just outside her green room — relaxed but alert, looking like they belonged in a postgame locker room and not backstage at a concert. But when Joe saw her, he straightened up immediately.

His eyes swept over her — the glitter on her collarbone, the shine of sweat on her skin, the way her eyes sparkled under the hallway lights. And for once, the quarterback was speechless.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, walking up casually. “You survive out there?”

Joe gave a slow nod. “Barely.”

Tee whistled low. “That was a damn performance. You had people ready to risk it all in the first verse.”

Y/N laughed. “Good. That’s what I was going for.”

Ja’Marr crossed his arms. “Nah but for real, that last song? Yeah, you hurt some feelings with that one.”

Sam nodded. “Even I was in my feels, I gotta call my fiance.”

She glanced back at Joe, whose hands were tucked in his pockets, eyes still lingering on her face.

“You good, QB1?” she teased.

Joe cracked a small smile. “You ever just… watch someone do what they were born to do?”

Y/N raised a brow.

“That was you,” he said simply.

The air shifted.

Kayla let out a tiny gasp behind her, mouthing damn like she was witnessing the beginning of something important.

Y/N smirked, but it was softer this time. “Careful, Burrow. You might end up on my next album.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The green room was back to buzzing.

Kayla had music playing low from her phone, the post-show playlist filled with vibey R&B and trap beats. Someone had cracked open a bottle of champagne — probably Tee — and snacks were being passed around like they hadn’t just watched a Grammy-level performance unfold twenty minutes ago.

Y/N had changed into an oversized vintage tee, tiny shorts underneath, and her stage boots traded for fluffy slides. She looked relaxed, cozy even — but her glow was still loud. Sweat-slicked skin, flushed cheeks, glitter clinging to her collarbones like it knew it didn’t want to let go.

The vibe was chill, but the air?

Thick.

Mostly because Joe hadn’t taken his eyes off her for more than five seconds at a time.

And everyone noticed.

“Well, if I was gonna start a fan club, I know who the president would be,” Ja’Marr muttered under his breath to Sam, nodding toward Joe.

Sam chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. “He’s locked in like it’s fourth quarter. But it ain’t the playbook he’s studying.”

Tee, grinning, leaned across the room toward Y/N. “So how much of your show was aimed at a certain quarterback in the front row?”

Y/N raised her brows, playing innocent as she lounged on the couch, sipping her sparkling water. “Please. My set was about me. As always.”

Kayla snorted. “Okay, and maybe a little for him.”

Y/N shot her a look but didn’t deny it.

Joe, still sitting across the room, arms resting on his knees, finally spoke — low and direct, eyes locked onto her.

“You gonna keep actin’ like you didn’t write ‘Private Party’ about me?”

The room froze for half a beat. Everyone’s heads snapped toward Joe like a record scratch hit.

Y/N didn’t miss a beat. She leaned forward slightly, voice smooth like honey with a hint of blade. “Bold of you to assume. But now I’m curious… why’d you think that song was about you?”

Joe shrugged, a slow grin tugging at his lips. “Just sounds like something I’d get invited to.”

“Only if you bring snacks,” she shot back.

The room broke into laughter, but under it all, their eyes were still locked. Not a laugh shared between them — no, this was a game. Every look was a challenge, every word dipped in something heavier.

Kayla whispered to Ja’Marr, “They’re gonna combust.”

Ja’Marr nodded. “We’re watching the beginning of a situationship in 4K.”

Y/N finally stood, stretching just slightly, her shirt lifting to reveal the waistband of her shorts. Joe’s gaze flicked, just once — quick, respectful, but caught.

She saw it.

So did Kayla.

Y/N smirked as she walked to the mini fridge. “Y’all want anything? Water? Energy drink? A chill pill, Joe?”

Joe chuckled under his breath. “You’re the one with the heat.”

Tee raised his hands. “Alright! I need a buffer before y’all start making out with eye contact.”

Y/N tossed him a bottle of water without looking. “Calm down. I don’t kiss Bengals.”

Joe leaned back in his chair, still grinning, voice low. “We’ll see.”

That shut the room up real quick.

Y/N turned around slowly, head tilted, eyebrow raised.

“Oh?” she said. “We’ll see?”

Joe nodded once, cool and unbothered — but his jaw flexed, his posture all confidence with that undertone of tension she definitely clocked.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re not as untouchable as you act.”

Kayla dropped her drink.

Ja’Marr whooped like someone hit a buzzer-beater.

But Y/N?

She didn’t flinch.

She walked past Joe slowly, brushing his shoulder with hers as she passed — just a whisper of contact, but enough to make him sit up straighter.

“I’m exactly as untouchable as I act,” she murmured.

And just like that, the heat was turned all the way up.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The green room was a full-blown vibe now — music up, drinks passed around, and half the group sitting cross-legged on the floor like it was a high school kickback with VIP credentials.

Tee had claimed the aux, switching the music to something smoother — SZA followed by Brent Faiyaz, the kind of tracks that made people speak in low tones and flirt without trying.

Y/N had curled up on the couch, long legs stretched across Kayla’s lap, while Ja’Marr and Sam were deep into a trash-talking debate about who was the most iconic duo in music history.

“I’m tellin’ you, OutKast clears everyone,” Sam said, motioning with his drink.

Ja’Marr raised an eyebrow. “You’re forgetting Beyoncé and Jay-Z exist.”

Kayla chimed in, “Okay, but if we’re talking raw performance and stage presence? Y/N and her dancers give everybody a run.”

“Awww,” Y/N said with a lazy grin, pretending to blush. “Y’all gassing me in my own green room.”

Joe, who was sitting in a low chair near the couch, just sipped his drink and spoke real calm.

“We’re not gassing. We’re stating facts.”

She looked at him over the rim of her water bottle. “Mmm. You’ve been real vocal tonight, Mr. Quarterback.”

He didn’t even blink. “You got me real… focused.”

Tee let out a loud “OOOOH” and clapped once like someone just got roasted on Wild ‘N Out.

Y/N laughed, sitting up a bit straighter. “You sure it’s not the champagne talking?”

“I haven’t had enough for that,” Joe replied, locking eyes again. “But I’ve had enough to stop pretending.”

The room stilled for half a second.

Even the music felt like it paused.

Kayla looked at Y/N with wide eyes like girl. girl. girl.

Y/N leaned forward on her elbows, tongue running over her bottom lip before she said, “Pretending about what?”

Joe set his cup down, slow and deliberate. “Like I didn’t notice you the second you stepped on that field. Or the stage. Or even in that damn oversized hoodie when you walked in earlier.”

Tee stood up and walked away in circles like someone had just dropped a diss track live. “This man got BARS tonight!”

“Is this a poem?” Ja’Marr asked. “Like… is he in love already? Should we leave?”

“No one’s leaving,” Kayla said quickly, eyes glued to the moment unfolding.

Y/N let the silence linger for a second — made him sweat just a little. Then she stood slowly and crossed the room, pretending like she was headed to grab another water but very intentionally brushing past Joe’s shoulder again.

Except this time?

She stopped.

Right beside him.

Close enough that he had to look up to meet her eyes.

She bent slightly, whispering with a wicked smile, “You get bold after dark, huh?”

Joe looked up at her like she was the only light in the room.

“I don’t need the dark to want you.”

Dead. Silence.

Kayla whispered to Tee, “You still got that water bottle? 'Cause I need to baptize myself.”

Sam looked at Ja’Marr. “I’ve watched entire romcoms with less tension.”

Y/N straightened up slowly, not backing down, not stepping away — just holding Joe’s gaze with that signature smirk.

“Careful, Burrow,” she murmured. “Quarterbacks who talk too smooth tend to fumble.”

Joe leaned back, spreading his arms over the chair, looking smug. “Good thing I play clean.”

Kayla fake-coughed. “So when is the wedding?”

The group cracked up again, the moment slightly breaking but the heat between Y/N and Joe didn’t cool — not even a little.

They kept throwing looks across the room, like they were speaking a whole other language only they could hear.

And everyone else?

They were just lucky to have front row seats.

Just as the tension between her and Joe hit that “somebody better call security” level, the green room door cracked open and Carmen, her manager, slipped inside, clipboard in hand and that familiar we need to move now look in her eyes.

“Y/N,” she called gently, “sorry to interrupt the... whatever this is—” she glanced between her and Joe with a knowing smirk— “but we’ve got a little fan moment happening outside the venue. A few dozen stuck around hoping you’d come out, nothing crazy, but it’s real sweet. Signs, shirts, gifts.”

Y/N straightened, tension loosening in her chest. “They waited?”

“Yep. In the cold,” Carmen added, tilting her head.

Kayla glanced at her best friend and whispered, “Go cool off. You’re about to melt in front of this man.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled, already walking toward the door. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As she stepped out into the cool night air, the soft hum of the crowd outside reached her ears. The security team had cleared a safe space in front of the barricade, and her fans — still buzzing from the concert — lit up when they saw her.

“Y/N!!!”

“SHE CAME OUT— OMG—”

“WE LOVE YOUUUU!”

The love hit her like a warm wave.

She smiled wide, real and unguarded, her entire body exhaling the tension from earlier.

Y/N moved through the little crowd, signing posters, T-shirts, and phone cases. People handed her drawings of her on stage, custom friendship bracelets, little heartfelt letters, and one sweet girl gave her a plushie shaped like a baby tiger with glitter eyes.

“Because you’re fierce,” she said, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Y/N melted. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

The fans asked questions about her music, complimented her set, even asked if she was dating anyone (which she dodged with a laugh and a dramatic “My career is my man right now”). It was loud but comforting — the kind of chaotic joy that reminded her why she did all this.

By the time she took the last picture and hugged the last fan, her arms were full of little gifts and her cheeks hurt from smiling. But her heart?

Overflowing.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile, Back in the Green Room...

The minute Y/N walked out, the room turned on Joe.

Tee clapped his hands together. “So! When are you shooting the real shot, not this eye-fucking nonsense?”

“I don’t flirt,” Joe replied, deadpan.

Everyone: “LIES.”

Ja’Marr stretched out dramatically. “Bro, the way you look at her? I’ve seen less passion in wedding vows.”

Sam added, “And don’t think we didn’t catch that ‘I don’t need the dark to want you’ line. That was poetic. You practice that in the mirror?”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, fighting a grin. “Y’all are wild.”

“Nah, you’re wild,” Kayla jumped in, sipping from a soda can. “This man has been on ESPN, but couldn’t keep it together when Y/N got within ten feet. Your eyes were like—” she squinted and mimed slow, dramatic blinking. “‘My wife… my soulmate… the one the Lord promised me.’”

Everyone burst into laughter again.

Joe shook his head but didn’t deny it.

“I’m just saying,” Tee said, raising his drink. “If you don’t lock that in, someone else will.”

Joe’s smile dropped just a little — the competitive edge peeking through.

“She’s not just anyone,” he said quietly. “I’m not about to play games with that.”

The room actually went quiet for a second.

Even Ja’Marr sat up. “Wait. Are you serious-serious?”

Joe’s eyes didn’t leave the door she walked out of.

“I could be,” he muttered.

Sam: “Oh damn. He’s down bad.”

Kayla: “Down catastrophic.”

Tee: “Down so bad, he’s six feet under.”

Ja’Marr: “Buried in glitter and thigh-high boots. Rest in peace.”

The teasing picked up again, but Joe just sat there, still thinking about how Y/N had looked walking away — confident, glowing, and totally unfazed by the chaos she’d just left behind in his chest.

The door to the green room opened with a soft click, and every head turned.

Y/N walked in, glowing.Like, not just “stage lights and sweat” glowing — this was that loved-on, hugged-up, deeply-grateful-to-be-doing-this-shitkind of glow. Arms full of fan gifts — a bouquet of handmade bracelets wrapped around her wrist, rolled posters sticking out of a tote, a plush tiger nestled in the crook of her elbow.

Her smile was soft, dreamy. “They were so sweet,” she said, almost to herself. “They gave me bracelets. And look—” she held up a carefully sketched drawing of her in one of her performance outfits, eyes sparkling. “This one said she worked on it for three weeks.”

Kayla immediately jumped up to grab a few of the gifts from her arms. “Let me see— omg, that tiger is so cute. That for your bed or mine?”

“Girl, you have your own,” Y/N teased.

The group gathered around as she set her things down, everyone admiring the sweet haul — but Joe stayed seated, quiet, watching her like she had stardust trailing behind her with every step.

When she finally looked his way, their eyes met — and that smile?

Shifted.Still warm, but now it had edges. Curves. Intention.

“You good?” she asked him lightly, tucking one of the bracelets onto her other wrist.

Joe nodded, eyes still locked on hers. “Better now.”

Ja’Marr fake-coughed loud. “AHEM. Some of us are still in the room.”

Sam threw a chip at Joe. “Bro’s trying to seduce her in front of our very eyes.”

Y/N laughed and flopped back onto the couch next to Kayla, pulling one of the posters into her lap. “Please. He doesn’t have the range.”

“Oh?” Joe raised an eyebrow, leaning forward like she’d just challenged him to a rematch. “You sure about that?”

Tee leaned back, arms crossed, grinning wide. “Here we go again.”

Y/N crossed one leg over the other, posture all goddess-level confidence now. “Positive. I’ve been around the smooth talkers before. It’s cute. Predictable.”

Joe’s eyes dropped to the way her lips curved, then right back to her eyes. “I’m not trying to be predictable.”

“You’re trying to be impressive,” she shot back, calm and casual, “but you already saw how I do that.”

The room: OOOOOOHHHHHHHH.

Tee stood up and started pacing again. “That’s it. I can’t keep watching this. I’m stressed. My heart rate is up.”

Sam was shaking his head. “These two are gonna either hook up or fight in the parking lot.”

Kayla leaned toward Ja’Marr and whispered, “You feel that? That’s the tension. It’s humid in here now.”

But Y/N wasn’t done. She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, voice smooth.

“But if you’re gonna keep watching me like that…” she tilted her head at Joe, who hadn’t looked away once, “...you might as well make yourself useful and open my water.”

The air cracked.A half-second of silence. And then—

Joe stood. Calm. Controlled. And walked over to her without a word.

He picked up the unopened bottle from the table, twisted the cap with a low snap, and handed it to her, eyes on hers the entire time.

“You want anything else?” he asked, voice low, almost teasing.

Y/N took the bottle, her fingers brushing his intentionally slow. She took a sip — never breaking eye contact — and said:

“Not yet.”

The room lost it again. LOUD.

Ja’Marr actually fell back onto the floor. Kayla started fanning herself with a paper plate. Sam was screaming into a throw pillow.

But Joe?

He just smirked and sat right beside her this time.

Not too close. But not far, either.

Just enough for everyone to know — this was not over.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The green room was still in shambles — emotionally, at least. Tee had switched playlists again, landing on some vibey Drake and Tems mix that had everyone lowkey swaying, shoulders rolling. The champagne was mostly gone, and someone had opened a second bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos that Kayla had claimed as hers via a very serious side-eye.

Y/N sat between Kayla and Joe now — though there was still a respectable inch or two of space between them.

Not that it mattered. Because the tension between them? Still doing laps.

Ja’Marr stretched out on the carpet, arms behind his head, like this was the best entertainment he'd had all year. “So what’s next?” he asked, looking at Y/N. “After this concert tour, are you disappearing into the studio or…?”

Y/N nodded, brushing a braid behind her ear. “Studio, definitely. I’ve got a collab cooking with someone major, but I can’t say who yet. And some film stuff in L.A. But for now…” She shrugged. “Just vibing. Taking it all in.”

“You deserve it,” Sam said, nudging Tee. “We haven’t shut up about your performance since it ended.” Y/N smiled, genuinely touched. “Y’all are sweet. Even though your team still took that L.”

That earned a round of groans and head shakes from the Bengals boys. “Low blow,” Tee muttered, tossing a Cheeto at her. “Facts,” Ja’Marr added, “especially from someone who ditched the Ravens the second Burrow blinked at her.”

Kayla gasped. “Oop.”

Joe? He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look away from Y/N when he said:

“She blinked back.”

Ohhhh.

Y/N’s jaw dropped, her smile sharp. “You are dangerously smooth.”

Joe tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Or just honest.”

Kayla leaned over Y/N’s shoulder, whispering loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Tell me why this man sounds like a walking bridge of one of your songs.”

Y/N clutched her chest. “Don’t tempt me, I’ll write it right now.”

“Title it ‘QB Sneak,’” Sam joked. “Make it spicy.”

“Make it explicit,” Tee added. “You know Spotify gon’ eat that up.”

Joe just leaned back with that calm little smirk that screamed I’m already in the booth, baby.

Ja’Marr clapped his hands once. “Alright, this vibe is too good. We’re not letting it die here. What’s the move? Afterparty? Food? We celebrating this show or what?” Kayla perked up. “There’s that rooftop lounge at the hotel. I heard the DJ there tonight is nasty with transitions.”

Y/N raised a brow. “You just wanna dance with somebody’s son.”

“Yeah,” Kayla said with zero hesitation, pointing at Ja’Marr. “Maybe that one.”

Ja’Marr: “I ain’t mad.”

Tee pulled out his phone. “I’ll text the driver. What are we thinking? Group outfits or chaos energy?”

Sam: “I’m already in chaos mode.”

Joe looked at Y/N, who was standing to grab her coat.

She caught the look. Held it for a second. Then said, “You comin’, QB1? Or you need a little more convincing?”

Joe stood, cool and easy, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I already told you. I don’t need convincing.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The hotel suite turned temporary dressing room was lit in soft gold from the lamps, the overhead lights dimmed low. Clothes were tossed over the backs of chairs, and makeup bags cracked open like treasure chests across the vanity.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, applying a glossy lip to finish her look — fresh outfit, fresh vibe.

She’d changed out of her post stage gear and into something way more relaxed: a cropped black halter top with an open back, paired with sleek satin joggers and crisp white sneakers. Still sexy, but effortless. A single gold chain hung around her neck and the tiny diamonds in her ears sparkled under the soft lighting.

Kayla, beside her, was pulling on a silky green two-piece set that looked like sleepwear for rich girls who didn’t actually sleep. She fluffed her curls and grinned at her reflection.

“If Joe didn’t want to put you through the mattress on that stage,” she said, spinning toward Y/N, “he’s about to blow his load now.”

Y/N just rolled her eyes, tucking her phone into a tiny crossbody bag. “He’s not even that serious.”

Kayla blinked at her. “Girl. He opened your water bottle like he was signing a prenup.”

Y/N laughed. “Shut up and grab your lip gloss.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Rooftop Lounge — 10:49 p.m.

The elevator doors opened and the rooftop hit different.

Soft purple and amber lights danced over the sleek lounge furniture, tall heaters flickering with fire, and a DJ posted at the far end spinning an R&B mix that made everybody move a little slower, a little smoother.

The view? All glittering city skyline.

The Bengals boys were already posted near the bar — Sam with a drink in hand, Ja’Marr mid-convo with a group of dancers, Tee dancing with someone’s girlfriend (or maybe just vibing), and Joe…?

Joe was watching the elevator.

And when Y/N stepped out?

Game over.

His gaze dropped for a second — not disrespectfully — just enough to take it all in. The outfit. The walk. The smirk.

Kayla leaned toward her like a devil on her shoulder. “You see his face? That man wants to be the drink in your hand.”

Y/N adjusted her top slightly and smirked. “Good.”

As the girls made their way over, drinks were ordered, seats claimed, and the energy stayed loud and electric. “You clean up nice, Miss VIP,” Tee said, holding out a drink he ordered for her. “I always clean up nice,” Y/N replied, taking the glass.

Joe stepped a little closer, eyes still lingering. “You trying to kill me?” he asked quietly. Y/N tilted her head. “Why? You good?”

He leaned in, low and warm in her ear. “Not even close.”

Her throat tightened for half a second, but she didn’t flinch. “Drink your whiskey, Burrow.”

The whole crew eventually migrated to the small dance floor area, where the music hit a little harder and the lights hit just right. Y/N and Kayla were dancing together — laughing, spinning, hands in the air — while the guys stood nearby, watching and swaying like typical athletes who could dance but weren’t gonna try too hard.

Until Joe stepped forward.

He didn’t say anything, just extended a hand toward Y/N like it was obvious.

She paused, brow raised, a challenge in her eyes.

“You don’t seem like the dancing type,” she said.

“I’m not,” Joe replied. “But I figured you’d make me look good.”

Kayla hooted in the background.

So Y/N took his hand.

And they danced. Slow at first — just moving in rhythm, close enough to share warmth but still keeping that teasing distance between them.

But his hand found her waist. And her fingers laced behind his neck. And suddenly, the bass wasn’t the only thing pulsing.

They moved together like this was a habit. Like they already knew how to sync. Like the tension had finally found a beat to lean into.

And the crew?

They were definitely watching.

“I’m just saying,” Ja’Marr muttered from the bar. “If they don’t kiss tonight, I’m throwing myself off this roof.”

Tee nodded solemnly. “Amen.”

The music shifted again, something slower, with a slight groove that made everyone’s movements sync even tighter. Y/N wasn’t trying to hide it anymore. She was definitely feeling it — the beat, the moment, the vibe with Joe. She kept it light, though, spinning away from him and twirling back in a way that made him watch her with dark eyes.

His hand followed. Caught her waist again.

She smirked up at him, a playful glint in her eye. “So, you know how to move. But can you keep up?”

Joe chuckled, the sound low and dangerously smooth. “I’ll keep up. I’m just waiting for you to really go for it.”

Y/N’s grin widened. “Is that a challenge?”

“I don’t know,” he teased back, his hand slipping lower to her hip. “Is it?”

The circle around them had gotten smaller. The guys had all shifted closer to the dance floor — they were still talking, but the glances they threw at Joe and Y/N were loaded. They knew.

Tee leaned toward Ja’Marr, his voice loud enough for the group to hear over the music. “This is either going to end in a makeout session or a boxing match. Either way, I’m here for it.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked toward them briefly, just enough to catch their teasing. She rolled her eyes but then shifted closer to Joe, leaning in so her lips nearly brushed his ear as she whispered, “Don’t get distracted now. I thought you were gonna show me something.”

Joe’s breath hitched for a fraction of a second, but he didn’t miss a beat. His hand slid from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her even closer.

“You’re the one distracted,” he murmured. “It’s adorable.”

Y/N shot him a playful side-eye. “I’m not distracted. I’m focused.”

Joe’s smirk grew. “Mm. So focused you can barely stop looking at me?”

Her fingers gripped his shirt tighter. “Only because I can’t decide if you’re really this confident, or if you’re just good at pretending.”

Joe’s jaw tightened, his lips curving into a dangerous smile. “You’re about to find out.”

And just like that, they were back in sync, their bodies moving fluidly, playfully too close, the energy charged with tension that made the room feel hotter than it should’ve been.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile — The guys? Not missing a thing.

Sam leaned against the bar, watching with a knowing smirk. “That’s a wrap. We all saw it. They’re done.”

Kayla, still dancing with Ja’Marr, shouted over the music, “You know Joe would be the type to act like he’s got it all together, but deep down? That man’s trying real hard not to fall apart right now.”

Tee laughed, tipping his drink. “No way. He’s got it under control. I bet he’s waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in.”

Sam tilted his head. “You think that’s how it’s gonna play out? Nah. She’ll make him sweat first.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back on the dance floor, Y/N wasn’t letting up. She kept her distance, then leaned in just enough to tease him, spinning out of his grip and circling around him with a wink.

“Careful,” she called over her shoulder. “I might just let you catch me.”

Joe’s chest rumbled with a low laugh. “You’re not that fast.”

“Oh, I am,” she shot back, “but I like keeping you guessing.”

And the dance continued, teasing, pulling them closer and pulling them apart in a rhythm they’d both learned over the last hour. Y/N wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had the upper hand. She knew what she was doing. She liked it.

And Joe? He was feeling that same exact rush — not backing down, but damn near on edge with every moment they spent close enough to touch, but never quite touching.

Tee, watching the dance unfold with a shit-eating grin, leaned toward Sam.

“You think it’ll happen soon, or do we need to go rescue Joe from the longest slow burn in history?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Man, I don't know. At this rate, Joe’s gonna need a rescue from Y/N.”

As the song began to wind down, Y/N took one last spin away from Joe, her body turning with the music as her eyes stayed locked on his — daring him to keep up. She was giving him one final moment to make a move, but she knew exactly how to keep him dangling.

And that’s when she did it.

She took a step back, her smile cool and amused, hands on her hips as she gave him a playful, defiant look.

“Well? Keep up or go home?”

Joe stood there, a beat of silence between them. Then, with that same smirk from earlier, he grabbed his drink, taking a slow sip. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N chuckled. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Another song rolled in — this one smooth and low, the kind that made hips sway without trying. The rooftop stayed alive with conversation, laughter, and clinking glasses, but in the middle of it all, Y/N had the room in the palm of her hand. Or more accurately… she had Joe wrapped around her finger, even if no one dared to say it out loud.

And oh, was she enjoying herself.

She didn’t go back to him right away. Instead, she drifted toward Kayla, laughing as they picked up the rhythm and started dancing again. Not for attention — just because the music demanded it, and her body always listened.

But she knew exactly what she was doing.

Every now and then, she glanced over her shoulder, just long enough for Joe to know she was aware of his eyes on her. He wasn’t even trying to be slick about it anymore — standing near the bar, his drink untouched in his hand, his gaze pinned to her like she was the only thing that made sense in a room full of noise.

Tee, catching the whole thing, leaned toward him. “You alright, big guy?”

Joe blinked once, tore his eyes away for a breath, and exhaled like he’d been holding it in for ten minutes. “She’s dangerous.”

Ja’Marr laughed into his glass. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“She’s making me work for it,” Joe muttered, eyes drifting back to her.

Kayla clocked it all and leaned in to whisper, “He’s dying.”

Y/N smirked. “I know.”

“You gonna throw him a bone?”

Y/N’s smile turned feline. “Where’s the fun in that?”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

When Y/N finally made her way toward the bar, it was slow, deliberate — like she was in no rush because she wasn’t. Joe straightened up just a little, the tiniest twitch in his jaw giving away his anticipation. And she saw it. Loved it.

She stopped right in front of him, not close enough to touch — just enough to tempt.

“You look tense,” she said, grabbing a piece of fruit from a nearby cocktail and popping it between her lips.

Joe looked at her, slow and steady. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Doing what?”

“Dragging this out.”

She licked the last of the juice from her thumb, eyes locked on his. “I’m just vibing. You’re the one struggling.”

Joe didn’t respond right away. Just stepped a half-inch closer, his voice a low murmur meant only for her.

“Or maybe I’m enjoying the view too much to rush.”

Y/N’s breath hitched — just barely — but her face stayed cool. Her voice came out honey-slick. “You sure you can handle this view, Mr. QB1?”

Joe’s jaw tensed. “Try me.”

She leaned in — barely — enough for her perfume to hit him and for their lips to hover in the same zip code. She stayed there for a heartbeat. Two. Then—

She pulled back, flashing that wicked little grin.

“Maybe later,” she purred, turning away to rejoin Kayla.

Joe stood there, hand still on the bar, chest rising slow. He watched her walk away, lips parted, like he was debating whether or not he’d just been played or blessed.

Tee came up behind him, clapped him on the back. “You alright, man? You look like you just lost a playoff game.”

Joe ran a hand over his mouth, fighting a smile. “Nah. I think I just got drafted again.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The rooftop was buzzing — music still flowing, lights twinkling against the night sky, and the crew very much in their “we’re too hot to be this tipsy and this unserious” phase of the night. Everyone had found their rhythm: drinks in hand, shoes slightly looser, and jokes flying like confetti.

Y/N had reclaimed a low lounge seat with Kayla on one side and Ja’Marr practically hanging off the other armrest. Joe stayed leaning against the bar, still sipping slow — but his eyes?

Still on her.

Not even subtle anymore.

Kayla had noticed. Again.

She leaned in, whisper-singing in Y/N’s ear: “🎶He’s looking at you like you’re dessert and he skipped dinner.🎶”

Y/N snorted into her drink. “You need to stop.”

“You need to do something before he combusts in that tight-ass shirt.”

“I am doing something. I’m existing.”

Ja’Marr leaned toward them both, not even pretending not to eavesdrop. “Y’all whispering too loud. And for the record, I vote Y/N lets him suffer just a little more.”

Tee slid in with another round of drinks. “Suffer? He’s two seconds from asking the DJ to play ‘Pony.’”

“DON’T tempt him,” Kayla laughed. “You know he’s white-boy bold.”

Y/N just smirked, sitting back like a queen with her court. “He’ll live.”

Joe, still posted a few feet away, caught the tail end of that look she gave. The knowing, the tease, the come-here-but-don’t-touch. He shook his head with a smirk and finally pushed off the bar, walking over slowly.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said, stopping right in front of her.

Y/N looked up, her expression sugar and fire. “I am.”

“Evil.”

“Correct.”

“Pretty sure you’re gonna ruin me.”

She took a slow sip of her drink, eyes never leaving his. “If I wanted to ruin you, you’d already be ruined.”

The crew? LOSING it.

Sam from the next table: “OH MY GOD.”

Tee was wheezing. “Bro just got verbally folded.”

Ja’Marr put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “She’s not flirting anymore, she’s finishing you.”

Joe just laughed — that real, low-chested laugh that said he was absolutely not okay, and absolutely into it.

“Alright,” he said, backing up a step with his hands raised. “I can admit defeat. You win.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Already?”

“You haven’t even seen me try yet.”

“Oh, so this is you unbothered?”

“No,” Joe said, gaze hot. “This is me being patient.”

Kayla fanned herself with a napkin. “Jesus.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As the DJ shifted the vibe into a little 2000s throwback R&B set — think Mario, Ciara, Usher era — the dancing picked back up, drinks refilled, and the group’s energy hit that sweet spot where everybody was too comfortable and too deep in to leave.

Ja’Marr somehow ended up teaching Kayla a two-step combo, Sam was holding court with a circle of background dancers, Tee was recording everything on his phone for future blackmail purposes, and Joe?

Joe was still watching Y/N dance.

Still waiting for his moment.

Still very much caught up in the long game.

And Y/N? She knew it. Felt it in the bass. Felt it in the way her body lit up every time he was near. Felt it in the thrill of knowing he was going home thinking about her — again.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The rooftop wasn’t quieting down — not yet — but it was changing. The crowd had thinned slightly, the air cooled, and the DJ knew exactly what they were doing when they transitioned into some Brent Faiyaz and SZA. The kind of music that makes people sway a little slower. Stand a little closer.

Y/N noticed it too.

She was perched now on a high-back lounge chair, legs crossed, a second drink in hand, her heels off and tucked under the seat. Joe sat just across from her, one leg bouncing absently, body leaning forward slightly like he was trying not to give in to whatever magnet kept pulling him in her direction.

Kayla had migrated to a couch nearby, curled up next to Ja’Marr who was fully in “post-victory chill mode” — hoodie on, chain out, and lowkey flirting like he had nothing to lose.

Tee and Sam were off near the glass railing, deep in a discussion about something that might’ve started with football and somehow morphed into the proper way to cook ribs.

The chaos was still present — but it was background noise now.

Because the tension?

Front and center.

“Okay, so what’s your deal?” Y/N asked casually, twirling the straw in her drink without looking at Joe.

Joe leaned back a little. “My deal?”

“Mhm.” She glanced at him now, brows raised. “You’re smooth, but not too smooth. A little cocky, but you’re… patient. Calculated. I can’t decide if you’re trying to win me over or if you already think you have.”

Joe’s tongue ran slowly over his bottom lip before he answered.

“I don’t assume anything,” he said, voice low. “Especially not with you.”

Y/N blinked. Just once.

He wasn’t playing anymore. He wasn’t teasing. And that shift — from flirt to focused — hit.

“Good,” she said, tone soft but laced with fire. “Keep that energy.”

Joe nodded slowly. “Oh, I plan to.”

Another silence stretched between them, thick and pulsing. The kind of silence where breathing too loud would make things snap.

Y/N tilted her head, eyes never leaving his. “You always this intense?”

“Only when I want something bad enough.”

Her legs uncrossed. Crossed the other way.

“You’re making this really hard for me to keep playing it cool.”

Joe smirked again, but this time it was darker. “Then stop playing.”

Breathe. Just breathe.

Kayla, from her couch throne, saw it all and immediately nudged Ja’Marr. “He’s gonna fold. I see it. He’s one deep breath away from telling her his social security number.”

Ja’Marr nodded, eyes still on them. “No, she's gonna fold. She’s trying too hard not to jump him right now.”

They both took long sips of their drinks, like it was a live episode of reality TV.

Back at the table, Y/N leaned forward a little, resting her elbow on the armrest. “You sure you’re ready for what comes with someone like me?”

Joe didn’t even flinch. “I think I’ve been ready. You’re the one still figuring it out.”

She smiled, slow and amused. “That right?”

“Mhm.” His voice dropped again, gravel-smooth. “I’ll wait. But I’m not backing off.”

That right there? That hit her right in the chest.

Because he wasn’t chasing her for sport. He was chasing her like a man who knew exactly what he wanted — and how to get it without rushing the game.

“I see you,” Y/N said, voice soft but deliberate.

Joe’s smile turned into something real. “I see you too.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The group eventually shifted again — some standing, some stretching, a few more songs left in the DJ’s set. Someone suggested snacks. Someone else was trying to get the Bluetooth speaker to work in the elevator for the trip down.

But Y/N and Joe?

Still in their chairs. Still locked in.

Still hovering on that razor-thin line between teasing and something hotter, something realer.

The rooftop crowd had thinned even more now. Some people peeled off, others stretched out on patio couches, and the music had softened into something lo-fi and low-key, like the party was naturally winding down. But Y/N and Joe?

Still stuck in their gravity.

Y/N shifted in her chair, pulling her knees up slightly to rest her arms on them. The glow of the heaters flickered off her skin like candlelight, and she sipped what was left of her drink with a quiet hum of satisfaction.

“You’re staring again,” she said without looking at him.

Joe’s voice came low. “And?”

She turned to him, smiling around the straw. “Just saying. I’d ask what you’re thinking, but I don’t know if I want the real answer.”

He chuckled, setting his glass down. “I’m thinking… you’re probably not someone I should be messing with right now.”

“Smart man,” Y/N said, brown eyes glittering. “Because you’re definitely not someone I should be messing with right now either.”

They shared a look — that kind of sharp, mutual understanding that said we both know exactly what this is.

“Too much going on?” Joe asked, voice lighter this time.

Y/N nodded. “Mmhmm. My schedule is brutal. I got two more shows this week, a taping next weekend, studio time, and possibly a last-minute audition. I’ve got zero time to fall into anything. Not even a maybe.”

Joe nodded slowly, watching her. “Yeah. Season’s getting heavier. Camp was no joke, and if I’m being honest… my coaches would probably have a stroke if they knew I was out here flirting instead of watching film.”

She laughed, tilting her head. “So why are you still out here?”

He leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees now, matching her posture. “Because it feels good. Because it’s fun. Because you’re smart, and hot, and I like the way you keep throwing me off my game.”

Y/N blinked slowly. “You’re good at this.”

Joe shrugged. “No. I’m just honest.”

Her smile faded into something more thoughtful. She wasn’t used to that — the mix of real talk and reckless charm. She was used to games. To men who wanted her, but not her chaos. Not her ambition. Not her heat and bite and unapologetic momentum.

But Joe?

He seemed like he was watching the storm on purpose.

“You ever do this?” she asked quietly. “Just vibe with someone for the sake of it?”

Joe tilted his head. “Not often.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment. “Same.”

Pause.

“So,” she said, voice turning playful again, “you gonna be weird about it, or are we both just gonna enjoy this slow burn until it fizzles out?”

Joe smiled, wide this time, like she’d said exactly what he was thinking.

“I like the slow burn,” he said. “Makes the fire hit harder.”

Y/N smirked. “Careful, quarterback. I’m the type that leaves marks.”

Joe’s laugh rumbled from his chest. “Good. I don’t bruise easy.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

They eventually joined the others again — slowly, naturally. The group had now gathered in another part of the lounge in front of a fire pit, feet tucked under blankets someone found, bowls of chips, and random leftover desserts from room service being passed around.

Tee was throwing out wild questions: “Okay, okay — one has to go forever: music, football, or sex?”

Groans.

“Bro.”

“Why would you even ask that?”

Y/N raised a brow. “I’m keeping music. I need music. So y’all can fight it out for the rest.”

Joe looked over, grinning. “That’s bold.”

“You surprised?”

“Nope. Just wondering which one I’d have to compete with.”

Y/N tossed a piece of ice at his chest. “Don’t start.”

Ja’Marr: “Start?? Y’all been flirting like a CW drama for the last three hours.”

Kayla, not missing a beat: “And we’ve been tuning in like it’s season three, episode nine.”

Everyone cracked up, but the eyes said it all — they saw what was brewing. They weren’t just witnessing the tension… they were living in it.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The night wore on, the fire burning bright, the group slowly yawning and untangling. But that tension between Joe and Y/N? Still there. Still rising. Still begging for a moment away from the noise.

And that moment?

Was coming.

Soon.

The lounge was low-lit and empty, except for them.

The music outside faded to a distant thump, the kind that disappeared when your pulse started thudding louder. Y/N leaned against the window, and Joe… he was standing just behind her, close enough that the heat from his chest brushed her back.

She turned slightly, still leaning, still calm — but her eyes told a different story. “You always this patient?” she asked, her voice smooth, but her gaze daring him to lie. Joe stepped closer, now only inches away, his voice low and thick. “No. Just when the tension feels this good.”

Her breath caught — and that was it. That was the break.

Y/N turned all the way around and stepped into him, chest brushing his, lips inches apart. Her fingers slipped under the hem of his hoodie, slow, not rushing — like she was deciding if he’d earned it yet.

He looked down at her, not moving, like he knew any sudden shift would set off the fire alarm.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she said softly, bluntly. “I don’t have time. I’m too focused. Too booked. Too selfish with my energy right now.”

Joe’s hand came to rest lightly on her hip, thumb grazing bare skin where her shirt had risen slightly. His voice was calm, but it had a weight to it now. A certainty. “I don’t want anything you’re not ready to give me.”

She stared up at him, lips parted, breath uneven. “And if all I want is this?” she asked. Joe leaned in, brushing his nose against hers — not kissing her. Not yet. “Then you’ve got it. All of it.”

That was it.

She grabbed his hoodie and pulled him in hard — no hesitation, no slow-burn now — just heat. His mouth found hers in a kiss that had what felt like weeks of build-up behind it. It was all lips, tongue, and low groans as his hands slid around her waist and pulled her closer. Her back hit the glass behind them and she didn’t care — the cold contrast made her gasp against his mouth.

Joe’s hands were everywhere — respectful but greedy, firm but slow. He kissed like he’d studied her, like he already knew how she moved, how she liked to be touched. And Y/N?

She kissed him like she needed to — like she was making up for every second she’d spent pretending she didn’t. One of his legs slid between hers, and he growled low in his throat — that real, chest-deep sound that made her smirk mid-kiss. She tugged at his hoodie, dragging it up just enough to feel warm skin beneath.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered against his lips.

Joe grinned, breathless. “You’ve got no idea.”

His hand slipped under her shirt, resting on the small of her back, grounding her and teasing all at once.

She pulled back slightly, just enough to speak. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she warned.

Joe nodded, eyes dark. “Doesn’t have to.”

She searched his face — saw honesty, desire, control barely hanging on.

Then she kissed him again.

Deeper.

Slower.

Letting herself feel it — just this once. Just this moment. Just… him.

And when they finally paused, breathing heavy, pressed together in that dim lounge like sin wrapped in moonlight, Y/N’s fingers curled in the front of his shirt. She didn’t let go.

Neither did he.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back on the rooftop, karaoke had fully devolved into people yelling lyrics, eating dessert straight from the tray, and passing someone’s half-warm cocktail around like it was holy water.

Tee was trying to film Kayla but she kept ducking behind Ja’Marr, who was too deep into a plate of nachos to care.

That’s when Sam looked around, eyebrows furrowing.

“Wait… where’s Joe?”

Kayla paused mid-bite. “Oh, you mean Joseph ‘Let Me Flirt in 4K’ Burrow?”

Ja’Marr looked up. “Ain’t seen him since Y/N went ghost.”

Tee glanced toward the door. “...Yo.”

Everyone turned.

Kayla slowly lowered her drink. “Hold on.”

She scanned the group again, eyes narrowing like a bloodhound on a scent.

“Y/N’s gone too.”

A beat.

Then Kayla sat straight up, a hand flying over her heart like she’d just uncovered scandalous royal gossip. “Oh my God. They’re definitely fucking.”

Tee nearly dropped his phone. “Damn, girl, don’t hold back.”

“No, no, no,” she said, standing up now, pacing like a detective. “Let’s review the evidence. The eye contact? The flirting? The slow-burn heatwave that’s been hanging over them since SOUND CHECK? And now they vanish together into the night? Come on.”

Sam raised a hand like a student. “Maybe they’re just talking.”

Kayla turned so fast it was almost dangerous. “Baby, ain’t nobody just talking when there’s that much lip-biting and smoldering eye contact. That man has been looking at her like she’s the cheat day he’s been saving all season.”

Ja’Marr nodded solemnly. “She did say she was leaving marks.”

Tee: “She meant that. Bet his hoodie’s all stretched out.”

Kayla was cackling now, fanning herself. “She’s probably got that man speaking in tongues. He gonna come back like ‘blessings to all, I’ve seen the light.’”

Ja’Marr mimicked Joe’s voice, deadpan. “Hey guys. Just learned what love is. Also, my legs don’t work.”

They all howled.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Meanwhile, in the dim lounge across the hall, Y/N and Joe were still tucked into each other, lips a little swollen, hearts beating in sync, the afterglow of that snapped tension still lingering in the air like smoke.

“Think they’ve noticed we’re missing yet?” Y/N asked, her voice low and warm as she sat nestled into Joe’s chest, both of them still upright, still (barely) composed.

Joe smirked, thumb grazing the curve of her hip. “I’d be shocked if Kayla wasn’t forming conspiracy theories as we speak.”

Y/N snorted. “She’s probably narrating it like it’s a Netflix docuseries.”

“Oh, 100 percent. ‘And that night, under the soft glow of a rooftop heater, Y/N risked it all for cinnamon-roll QB1 energy.’”

She laughed, low and full.

Then her hand slid up his chest again, slow, fingers drawing lazy patterns across his skin.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she reminded him one more time — but the words were breathier now.

Joe nodded, but his hand never left her body. “Nope. Just fun. Just us.”

She tilted her head, playful again. “For now.”

He grinned. “For now.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Tee was halfway through a story about an Uber driver who tried to freestyle mid-ride when the rooftop door creaked open.

Click.

Soft footsteps.

Then—

Y/N and Joe walked back in.

Chill. Calm. Cool as a cucumber cocktail.

Y/N’s lips were glossed again (very suspicious). Her top was slightly readjusted (even more suspicious). Joe’s curls looked a little more tousled than before (a federal offense, honestly). And they walked in with too much distance between them — the kind of space that only people who just broke the rules try to create.

Silence.

Just for a second.

Then Kayla stood up, arms spread wide like a talk show host finishing a monologue.

“Ladies and gentlemen… THE COUPLE HAS RETURNED.”

Y/N groaned. “You are so dramatic.”

Joe just chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like he knew exactly what this meant. And what was coming.

Tee grinned. “Nah, don’t try to play innocent. Y’all disappeared for a minute.”

Sam raised his drink. “Was it just a scenic walk? Or, you know…” He made an exaggerated gesture with his eyebrows.

Ja’Marr added, deadpan, “Did y’all pray together? That’s what it looked like. Real… spiritual energy coming off you two.”

Kayla clutched her heart. “The tension in this room is no longer tension. It is residue. It is proof.”

Y/N dropped onto the couch next to her, laughing now but trying to keep a straight face. “You need help.”

Kayla leaned in close, whispering like it was top-secret intel. “He kiss you good or kiss you good?”

Y/N gave her a look that said: We’re not doing this here.

Which Kayla ignored, obviously.

Joe, meanwhile, grabbed a water bottle, cracked it open, and sipped like he wasn’t being studied like a reality TV contestant coming back from the fantasy suite.

Tee side-eyed him. “So, uh… how’s the lounge?”

Joe grinned without answering.

“Oh, so we just not talking now?” Sam asked, grinning. “Selective silence?”

Ja’Marr leaned toward Joe, pretending to be serious. “Listen, blink twice if she rocked your world.”

Joe sipped again.

Did not blink.

Kayla: “Oh he gone. GONE gone.”

Y/N buried her face in her hands, muttering, “I hate all of you.”

But she was smiling.

So was Joe.

And no one missed it.

The jokes kept flying, drinks were poured, and the playlist slipped into something softer again. And as the night crept closer to morning, the heat didn’t cool — it just folded itself into comfort. Into shared looks. Into legs brushing and quiet laughs.

Because now?

The secret was out.

And no one was mad about it.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The party had finally thinned out. Ja’Marr was half-asleep in one of the lounge chairs, mumbling something about pancakes. Kayla was wrapped in a throw blanket, scrolling on her phone and side-eyeing everyone who moved.

Y/N stepped out onto the balcony just off the lounge, arms crossed over her chest as the cool early morning air kissed her skin. It smelled like city, like wind and concrete and leftover cinnamon from somebody’s half-eaten dessert.

She didn’t look when she heard the door creak behind her.

Didn’t have to.

Joe leaned against the railing beside her, silent for a second, watching the streets below.

“You good?” he asked, voice soft.

Y/N nodded. “Mmhmm. Just needed some air before I head out.”

“Same.”

They stood in silence, the kind that had grown between them over the night — not awkward, just comfortable. Like the quiet had its own rhythm.

Y/N glanced over at him. “So, what… you flying back tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Team stuff. We’re back in practice mode.”

“Bet. I’m in the studio for the next three days. Back-to-back sessions.”

Joe smiled a little. “You stay working.”

“You too. So, we’re both married to the grind.” She nudged his arm. “Messy little combo, huh?”

He turned toward her slightly, that crooked grin tugging at his mouth again. “Messy… but kinda hot.”

Y/N smirked. “You like chaos, huh?”

Joe leaned a little closer. “I like you.”

Her throat tightened for half a second. But she shook it off, blinking slowly, smile playful again.

“Well, you’re cute, Burrow, but don’t catch feelings. I’m a busy woman.”

He raised a brow. “You think I can’t multitask?”

“You think I won’t make you beg for my time?”

Joe laughed, then stepped even closer, their arms brushing now. “You giving me your number or just your best lines?”

Y/N pulled her phone out of her pocket, smirking. “Both. I’m generous like that.”

She typed it in, saved under “Y/N 🔥🎤”, then handed it over.

Joe added his right after, giving her back her phone with a wink. “Put me under something nice.”

Y/N typed out: “Joseph. a.k.a QB1. a.k.a Can’t Keep His Hands to Himself.”

She flashed it at him. He read it, grinned, and shook his head. “You’re gonna be a problem.”

Joe leaned back against the railing, arms crossed now, head tilted like he was watching her through a filter of curiosity and something deeper.

“So… what are we calling this?” he asked.

Y/N raised a brow. “You need a label for everything?”

“I like clarity,” he replied, smirking. “Keeps expectations clean.”

She stepped in front of him, close enough to be tempting again, but still just out of reach. “Okay, Mr. Clarity. Here’s what I think.”

Joe’s eyes didn’t leave hers.

“No strings,” Y/N said smoothly. “No pressure. You do your thing, I do mine. But when we’re in the same city…” She trailed her fingers lightly down the front of his hoodie. “We link. We have fun. We keep it real.”

Joe caught her hand in his, slow and deliberate.

“So… friends with benefits?”

“Benefits,” she confirmed. “And mutual respect. Text if you’re in town. I’ll do the same. But we don’t do jealousy, and we definitely don’t do clingy.”

Joe leaned down, close enough his breath hit her lips. “I don’t chase unless I’m on the field.”

Y/N smirked. “And I don’t beg unless it’s on stage.”

That made him groan under his breath, head dropping for a second before he grinned again.

“Alright,” he said finally, letting her hand go, “deal.”

Y/N turned, walking back toward the lounge door, hips swaying just enough to let him know she was aware of every second of silence behind her.

Just before she reached the door, she called back over her shoulder:

“Let’s see if you can handle it, quarterback.”

Joe looked at her for a long moment. “I can live with that.”

Y/N grinned. “Good. You know where to find me.”

He stepped closer again, lips brushing her cheek. Not her mouth. Not this time.

“Next time I do,” he murmured, “I’m not stopping at one kiss.”

She shivered, but didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting too much. Just raised a brow.

“We’ll see if you earn it.”

Joe didn’t say anything.

But the smile on his face?

He was ready.

And with that, they walked back inside — apart, but more connected than they’d been all night. No promises. No titles.

Just one hell of an understanding.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The next morning hit different.

Y/N rolled into the brunch spot just five minutes late — which, for her, was basically on time. Curls slicked into a clean ponytail, hoops back in rotation, oversized shades on despite it being cloudy. She was wearing a simple but body-hugging black set and a denim jacket like she hadn’t just shifted the group dynamics forever.

Kayla was already at the table with Ja’Marr, Tee, Sam, and — yes — Joe, who looked a little too well-rested in a grey hoodie and joggers, curls freshly brushed and smugness barely concealed.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Kayla said, sipping her mimosa like it was tea.

“I had to make sure I didn’t look like what y’all put me through last night,” Y/N replied, sliding into the seat beside her.

Ja’Marr smirked. “Girl, he put you through something.”

Tee leaned in. “Sooo… we just gonna skip over the vanishing act or…?”

Y/N grabbed the menu. “It was cold. I went inside.”

Sam raised a brow. “Inside him?”

“Sam!” Y/N gasped, half-choking on laughter. “You wild.”

Joe just grinned into his coffee like a man who was winning without having to say a word.

Kayla nudged Y/N. “Okay but like… did it change your life or just ruin all other quarterbacks for you?”

Joe coughed, “Still here,” but didn’t even bother to defend himself. His hand rested casually on the table, close enough to brush against Y/N’s knee under it. No one missed it.

“Y’all are insufferable,” Y/N muttered, trying — and failing — to keep her smirk under control.

The waiter came to take orders, and the group somehow managed to behave just long enough to choose food. As soon as he walked away, Ja’Marr pointed between Y/N and Joe with his fork.

“You two got that post-sneaky link glow. Real we know what we did but we’re chillin' energy.”

Joe just sipped his coffee again. “I’m just here for the pancakes.”

Kayla snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, lips twitching. “Y’all really need hobbies.”

Ja’Marr: “Oh we’ve got one. It’s called watching this mess unfold in real-time.”

Joe finally turned to Y/N, the lowkey smile still tugging at his mouth. “You regrettin’ last night yet?”

Y/N looked over the rim of her sunglasses and replied, smooth as butter, “Not even a little.”

The table howled.

Even the waiter raised a brow when he returned with the mimosas.

The food eventually came, but the teasing did not stop. Between bites of chicken and waffles and bottomless mimosas, the crew kept the commentary rolling, each one trying to out-roast the other.

And Y/N and Joe?

They took it.

Laughed with them.

Shared a few more looks.

Understood each other without having to say it out loud.

Whatever this thing was… it was just getting started.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The goodbye was supposed to be chill.

Quick hugs. Shared jokes. A “see you when I see you” kind of exit.

Y/N and Kayla stood by the SUV outside the hotel as the guys loaded up for their airport run. The girls’ bus was parked nearby, engine rumbling, ready to hit the road for the next stop on tour.

Tee gave Kayla a quick hug and promised to follow her back on Instagram. Sam dapped everyone up like he wasn’t still crying from brunch laughter. Ja’Marr told Y/N she owed him a private performance and a bottle of wine next time they were all in the same city.

Then there was Joe.

He stood by the car door, hands in his hoodie pocket, the quiet smirk he always wore now looking… softer. A little more thoughtful.

Y/N stepped up to him, her duffel hanging off one shoulder. “Guess this is the part where we go back to real life.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice low. “Game prep and studio marathons.”

They looked at each other for a beat too long.

And then she stepped forward, curled her fingers in the front of his hoodie, and kissed him.

Right there.

No hesitation. No spectacle. Just full lips pressed to his, slow and sweet with a little heat behind it — enough to leave a memory, a pulse, something to think about on the flight home.

She pulled back just a little, just enough to whisper, “Next time, QB1.”

Joe blinked once, lips still parted. “Next time.”

Y/N turned without another word, jogged to catch up to Kayla — who was grinning like she’d just watched the season finale of her favorite drama.

As the girls boarded the bus, Joe was still watching.

Hand on the car door.

Smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Later That Day – On the Tour Bus

The bus rumbled down the highway, soft music playing as the city skyline shrank in the distance. Y/N was curled up in a blanket on the long couch, makeup wiped off, bonnet on, hoodie two sizes too big. Her phone buzzed every now and then, but she ignored it — until Kayla plopped down beside her with a bowl of popcorn and a look.

“So,” Kayla said, tossing a piece into her mouth, “how many times did he fold you like a beach chair?”

Y/N groaned. “You are not subtle.”

“I’m your best friend, subtlety is banned on this bus.”

Y/N laughed, flopping her head back. “Alright, fine. We kissed. More than once.”

Kayla blinked. “That’s it? You disappeared for twenty-five minutes and came back looking like you’d just dropped an R&B single.”

Y/N threw a pillow at her.

“Okay, okay!” Kayla caught it, grinning. “So no full-court press yet, but the energy was giving… Fourth Quarter. Two-Minute Warning. Ball in your hands.”

Y/N sighed. “Yeah, it was… whew. Like, electric. And yeah, we agreed on a no-strings thing. Just fun when we’re in the same city.”

Kayla raised a brow. “So, you admit he rocked your world a little bit.”

“I didn’t say all that!”

“You didn’t have to.”

Y/N pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “Look, I’m not tryna fall for a quarterback. But I’m also not trying to block a blessing if it shows up 6’4”, blue eyes, and makes my knees weak.”

Kayla tossed another piece of popcorn. “So we agree: emotionally unavailable, mutually beneficial, extremely hot. I support this arrangement.”

Y/N smirked. “As long as you don’t start narrating again.”

Kayla held up her hands. “Fine. But I’m telling you now, when y’all end up on People’s Sexiest Situationships Alive list, I’m collecting royalties.”

And as the bus rolled on, Y/N leaned her head against the window and smiled at her phone. No texts yet.

But something told her she wouldn’t have to wait long.

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9, @irishmanwhore

[witchingwithscissors]

Canon confirmed: Rio’s the other mom.

So this is for the ones who want rough nights, slow mornings, and a body that always feels like home.

Agathario AU | Rio’s drowning in scrubs, grief, and silence. Her wife wants her back—under her, over her, beside her. They’ve got a kid. A marriage. And one hell of a flame to reignite.

The front door shut with the quiet caution of someone who didn’t want to wake the person they loved. A rush of rainwater pooled beneath Rio’s shoes as she stood in the entryway, trembling from head to toe. Lightning flickered outside, illuminating her in a quick, silver flash—her dark hair plastered to her neck, her navy scrub top turned nearly black with downpour, sweat, and the lingering scent of antiseptics.

She listened for any sign from the rest of the apartment: the hum of the fridge, the soft dripping of the rain on the windows. The only noise was the rapid thump of her heart.

She hadn’t texted Agatha—she simply couldn’t.

How was she supposed to sum up the devastation of losing yet another child on the table, let alone one who reminded her so much of their own son at home?

Slowly, she toed off her soggy sneakers. Her socked feet made no sound on the hardwood. She felt as though any loud movement, any jolt, would shatter the tenuous barrier holding back her tears. The air smelled faintly of lavender tea, which always reminded her of Agatha’s attempts to soothe them both after the hardest workdays. But the mug on the counter looked abandoned, half-filled and gone cold. Across the open floor plan, she spotted Agatha in the kitchen—barefoot, wearing an old white sweatshirt of Rio’s with a half-faded Columbia University logo. The lion mascot was missing half its mane, worn down from years of post-residency washes.

Agatha turned at the sound of Rio’s quiet approach. She didn’t speak right away. Instead, she took in the trembling corners of Rio’s mouth, the dark circles under her eyes, the way her arms were wrapped protectively around her torso. Slowly, Agatha put down the dish towel she’d been holding, like she was setting down all of her own concerns so she could hold Rio’s instead.

Rio tried to meet her gaze but faltered, head drooping, water sliding off her chin onto the floor.

“I lost someone,” she managed, voice cracking and hollow. “Nine years old. She coded right in front of me.”

The distance between them lasted only a heartbeat. Agatha stepped closer, her hands warm as they cupped Rio’s chilled cheeks.

“You did what you could,” Agatha said, her voice low, that gentle hush she used when Nicky was drifting to sleep.

Rio swallowed hard. “It wasn’t enough,” she whispered, voice raw. “She had freckles—like Nicky. She wanted to be a vet… She was so excited about animals. I tried, Agatha. I tried.”

Tenderly, Agatha smoothed Rio’s damp hair away from her forehead. “I know,” she said.

The tears came then, unstoppable. Rio sucked in a ragged breath, pressed her face into the curve of Agatha’s neck. She could feel Agatha’s heart beating in time with her own, a living metronome that steadied her just enough to keep her from collapsing onto the floor.

Agatha’s arms enveloped her entirely. “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes, my love,” she whispered, mouth skimming the shell of Rio’s ear. “We can talk or not talk… whatever you need.”

But the thought of speaking more, of repeating the story of a mother’s screams and the frantic attempts at resuscitation, made Rio’s skin prickle with dread. She couldn’t talk about it yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But right now, her grief and guilt were fused together, a knot in her chest.

“I want—” Rio began, then stopped. She looked up into Agatha’s enchanting blue eyes, eyes that always seemed to see right through her. “I want you.”

Understanding glimmered. Agatha gently tugged her forward. “Then let me take care of you, baby.”

Flashback to Baltimore, Four Years Ago

Rio had never believed in serendipity, or soulmates, or anything like that. It was pure coincidence that she’d been in Baltimore for a pediatric medical conference, running late and juggling a latte and her phone. She was scanning the conference schedule when she felt a solid thunk. Her foot came down on someone else’s stiletto, cracking the heel. Hot coffee sloshed onto a crisp white blouse.

She froze, mortified. The woman she’d collided with raised her eyebrows, flicking coffee droplets off her blouse with an almost amused smile.

Rio grabbed for napkins. “I’m sorry—so sorry—I’m usually more graceful than this,” she stammered.

The woman—Agatha, as she introduced herself—assessed Rio’s flushed face, her messy bun that had half-fallen out of the hair tie, the stammering apology. And then she laughed, a low, melodious sound that throbbed with humor and attraction all at once.

“Are you always this charming, Doctor?” Agatha teased.

Rio offered the handful of napkins with trembling hands, catching the stray thought that this woman was too gorgeous to be real. “Not usually. I mean, yes. I mean… I’m sorry about your shoe?”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Agatha said, her grin sly. “Otherwise, I might have pressed assault charges for the coffee fiasco.”

They ended up side by side at the same first-day lecture, exchanging glances over the top of printed slides. Later, over overpriced red wine in the noisy hotel bar, they discovered they worked in the same field: pediatrics. Agatha was a nurse practitioner with a gift for crisis management. Rio was fresh out of her internship, half-certain that her dream of working in high-stakes pediatric care would break her. But she couldn’t let it go.

Agatha asked her about that drive: “If it hurts so much, why do you keep going back?”

Rio shrugged, swirling her wine. “I guess I keep hoping the next time will be different. And sometimes it is. I really like the parts where we save them.”

Agatha’s expression was thoughtful, luminous. “You’ve got it bad for these kids,” she said softly.

“I do,” Rio admitted. “But it’s so… personal.” She exhaled, tension raw in her shoulders.

Agatha’s hand slid across the table to rest atop Rio’s. Something electric passed between them. That was it: the moment that changed the axis of Rio’s world.

Two hours later, they stumbled into Agatha’s hotel room, lips colliding in frantic passion, fumbling with each other’s clothing. Agatha’s shirt fell to the floor. Rio’s belt clanged against the bed frame.

Agatha kissed like she wanted to map every part of Rio’s body, to read her like Braille. She explored Rio’s skin with a confident ease that made Rio’s nerves buzz. When Rio tried to apologize for not being more experienced with women, Agatha silenced her with a long, thorough kiss.

“Don’t overthink,” Agatha whispered. “Just feel.”

Rio let herself be guided, let her breath stutter as Agatha trailed kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, lower—until Rio could barely remember her own name. Their bodies moved in sync, a dance of discovery. And in the throes of Rio’s first orgasm with another woman, she forgot every doubt she’d ever had about the power of connection.

“Tell me you’ll remember this,” Agatha said after, voice husky, lying on her side, one hand propped under her cheek.

Rio’s heart thundered. “I don’t ever want to forget.”

⸻

Back in the present, Rio allowed herself to be led to the bedroom.

Rain battered the windows as thunder mumbled in the distance. The overhead light remained off; only the glow from the hall lamp provided a soft gold halo across the comforter. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence.

Agatha coaxed Rio onto the edge of the bed. With careful fingers, she peeled away Rio’s soaked scrub top, revealing the sports bra beneath. She pressed her lips to the hollow of Rio’s throat while reaching around to tug the elastic band free from Rio’s long hair. Her hair tumbled down, half-dry, half-soaked. Agatha stroked through the damp strands.

“You don’t have to talk,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby. “Just let me hold you.”

But a surge of desperation flooded Rio. She wanted more than comfort. She needed to claw her way back to feeling alive, needed a visceral reminder that she wasn’t made solely of sorrow and guilt. Her hands gripped Agatha’s waist, traveling under the sweatshirt to feel the smooth expanse of Agatha’s back.

“Don’t be gentle,” Rio pleaded, voice shaking. “I don’t want gentle tonight, sweetheart.”

Agatha’s lips quirked. “Well, if it’s doctor’s orders,” she teased.

Still wearing the old sweatshirt, Agatha settled onto the bed. She arranged Rio so that she was lying beneath her, bra halfway undone. The floor was still slick with the droplets that had slid from Rio’s body, but they ignored it, lost in the moment. Agatha grazed her teeth across Rio’s collarbone, then lower, until she managed to peel off the soaked bra entirely. The cold air made Rio’s skin pebble, but Agatha’s mouth was warm, an anchor.

Rio slid her hands up the back of Agatha’s sweatshirt, nails lightly scoring her skin, wanting to claim her, to let go of the day’s horrors in the push and pull of their bodies. Agatha groaned, arching into Rio’s touch, letting the sweatshirt ride up to expose toned thighs and the curve of her hips.

Before Rio could blink, Agatha kissed down her abdomen, a trail of open-mouthed, wet kisses that seared fire into Rio’s blood. She paused just above the elastic waistband of Rio’s scrub pants, looked up, and said softly, “I love you.”

Rio’s breath caught. She combed her fingers through Agatha’s hair. “I love you,” she returned, voice trembling. “Now please—”

With a sly smile, Agatha tugged Rio’s scrub pants down, along with her underwear, in one swift motion. Cool air caressed Rio’s bare thighs for an instant, but then Agatha’s mouth was there, her hands cupping the underside of Rio’s hips. The first brush of Agatha’s tongue shot a spark through Rio’s entire body. She moaned, hips lifting, and felt Agatha’s low hum of approval ripple across her skin.

She was undone so easily by this woman. Every lick, every gentle scrape of teeth, every press of Agatha’s fingers along her inner thigh set her nerves alight. Agatha’s name became a chant on her lips. Rio’s eyes fluttered shut. Each time a memory of the day tried to intrude—pediatric code, failing vitals—Agatha’s touch brought her back to the bedroom, to the now, to what felt safe and vital.

When Agatha pressed two fingers inside her, Rio’s moan mingled with the distant rumble of thunder. She twisted her fingers in Agatha’s hair, urging her on. The speed built, a trembling wave. The coil of need tightened in Rio’s belly, not just from the physical sensation but from the emotional catharsis that came with it. In Agatha’s hands, she was never a failure. She was cherished. She was powerful and vulnerable all at once.

“Yes,” Rio gasped, “fuck—Aggie—oh my god, baby—”

She came in a white-hot spasm, her cry muffled as she buried her face in the crook of her arm. Agatha held her through every moment of the climax, lingering until Rio’s breath slowed, until her heart no longer pounded so violently. But Agatha didn’t stop there; she continued, relentless, drawing out every last tremor until Rio’s eyes glistened with overwhelmed tears. Only then did Agatha crawl up beside her and cup her cheek.

“You don’t have to hold it all alone,” Agatha said, pressing a soft kiss to Rio’s forehead.

Rio closed her eyes, chest tight with gratitude. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “for shutting you out.”

Agatha draped an arm around her. “I know. And I’m here. Always.”

Lightning streaked across the sky, highlighting the silhouette of their tangled limbs. They lay together, panting softly, hearts echoing in tandem. Rain battered the glass as though determined to wash the city clean.

Flashback, Three Years Ago

For nearly a year after that conference, Rio and Agatha tried the long-distance thing.

Agatha worked in Baltimore, while Rio was completing her specialized pediatric residency in New York City. The relationship was new, precarious; the demands of their careers left them exhausted and occasionally short-fused. Yet every phone call, every text, every video call, every stolen weekend was charged with a desperate energy to make it work.

Agatha would schedule “work trips” to New York, couching them in half-truths. Sure, there was a professional reason to go—but mostly, she just wanted to be near Rio.

She’d slip into the dingy, cramped, barely-up-to-code apartment Rio shared with another resident. A woman named Alice—who, at first, made Agatha a little jealous. But seeing how little time Rio had, and how all of it went straight to Agatha, she couldn’t really complain.

Agatha would bring fresh groceries, which they cooked together—though “together” usually meant Agatha doing the chopping while Rio sat at the counter, taste-testing and sneaking sips of wine after her late-night shifts. Rio especially loved Agatha’s mushroom risotto. She always said it was nice to eat something homemade for once, not just microwave dinners or whatever salty garbage the hospital cafeteria served. It made her feel warm. Taken care of.

Their nights fell into an easy rhythm: they’d start a movie, never make it past the first twenty minutes. As soon as Rio put her arm around Agatha, Agatha would lean in for a kiss—and it always ended with them tangled up in bed. Afterward, fully satisfied and too exhausted to do anything else, they’d barely keep their eyes open—but they were always determined to share at least a few hours wrapped around each other.

One night, near the end of their first six months, Agatha and Rio found themselves sitting on the floor of Rio’s bathroom—one of the only private spots in the tiny apartment—drinking cheap wine from chipped mugs. Tension hovered, unspoken, thick as steam.

“What are we?” Agatha asked softly, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass.

Her voice barely rose above the hum of the city outside, but it was enough to still the air between them. The question lingered—delicate, a little frightening.

Rio looked up, her heart thudding. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen this coming; it was that she didn’t know how to answer without giving Agatha the softest, most unguarded part of herself.

There was something raw in Agatha’s face, as though she was bracing for Rio to laugh it off—call this a fling or a phase. As if she was already preparing to let it hurt.

Rio swallowed, the back of her throat tight. She could lie or deflect—but this time, she didn’t want to. So she leaned in, voice unsteady with honesty.

“Something I don’t want to fuck up,” she said, and watched relief flicker in Agatha’s eyes.

Agatha let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. “Okay,” she whispered, sliding her free hand over Rio’s.

Rio exhaled, relieved and a little dizzy. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she added, “but when I’m with you…I’m not bracing for the crash. I’m just here.”

Agatha smiled then—soft, hopeful, and still a bit uncertain. She squeezed Rio’s hand, glanced away, then back again. There was a pink flush on her cheeks when she spoke.

“Soooo,” she drew out the word in a playful lilt, “we’re doing this, right? I can call you mine?”

Rio’s heart seemed to expand in her chest, filling up all the hollow spaces she’d never even known were empty. She laced her fingers with Agatha’s.

“Please do,” she murmured, a shaky smile curving her lips. “I’m yours.”

They sealed it with a kiss that tasted of sweet wine and unspoken devotion.

Over the next several months, they teased each other through late-night calls, turned phone screens into windows of desperate need. One memorable night, Agatha confessed she was transferring to New York mid-video call, and Rio climaxed so hard she nearly toppled off her couch. It was clumsy, thrilling, and sealed their commitment in more ways than words could.

After the move, they braved an apartment, half-updated, with paint-splattered floors and a perpetually broken radiator. They learned each other’s routines—who hogged the bathroom first, who folded the laundry (or forgot to). They bickered over sweaty scrubs and stolen shampoo, but they laughed even harder, especially on nights when they collapsed into bed at dawn, too exhausted to do anything but cling to each other.

They once tried a threesome on a tipsy dare. Fifteen minutes in, Rio felt a jealousy coil in her gut, while Agatha hated seeing someone else’s hands on Rio. They sent the third partner home with awkward apologies, then spent the night tangled up in each other—relieved to realize they both truly wanted exclusivity.

They attended hospital potlucks and friend gatherings hand in hand. Some nights, they’d sneak onto the rooftop for stolen sex beneath the city lights; others, they’d just binge on bad TV, exhausted from back-to-back shifts. It was in those quieter moments that Agatha would catch Rio studying her with a look that said, We can build more than a life—we can build a family.

One night, after a particularly grueling shift for both of them, Agatha sank onto the couch. She rubbed the tension from her neck and blurted, “My biological clock’s going off like an alarm I can’t snooze.” Anxiety threaded her voice; children felt like such a far-off thing, but suddenly the desire was roaring in her ears.

Rio, without missing a beat, reached for Agatha’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Then let’s do it. Let’s start a family.”

Agatha stared, breath caught between excitement and fear. “But your career—my career—do we have time for this?”

Rio shook her head, determination lighting her eyes. “I want to take care of you for once, Agatha. You’ve spent so long looking after me. Let me give you what you want—what we both want.”

Agatha’s throat felt tight with emotion. She exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re serious?”

Rio just grinned. “Dead serious.”

A few weeks later, they were hunched over a fertility donor profile, scanning it in disbelief.

“Favorite color: Green,” Agatha read aloud. “Hobbies: Running, wood working, women’s basketball. Favorite movie…” she said to Rio, voice rising. “He even has your birth date!”

She glanced at Rio, half-laughing, half-freaked out. “You’re sure you’re an only child?”

Rio frowned at the screen, equal parts startled and amused. “Pretty sure. But hey, if we want the kid to look like me, we’re sure as hell rolling those dice.”

Agatha snorted. “Technically, that means I’m picking you as my baby daddy.”

Rio’s grin stretched wide. “And I’m honored.”

Nicky entered their world with all the tumult and beauty a newborn brings. Agatha carried him, and Rio joked that she paced holes in the hospital floors waiting for the moment she could hold him.

Despite wanting him fiercely, Rio was terrified. The weight of responsibility, the fear that she could lose him like she’d lost so many young patients in the hospital, pressed on her chest. But from the moment he came squalling into the world, Nicky had wrapped Rio around his tiny finger.

He had big brown eyes and a sweet laugh that infected both his mothers. He’d watch them with an intense curiosity, as if taking mental notes for how to be as determined and caring as they were. Even in that first year, when exhaustion from night shifts piled onto the sleeplessness of new parenthood, Rio and Agatha managed to keep each other afloat.

“Look at him,” Agatha would say at 3am, passing the fussing baby into Rio’s arms for a feeding. “We made this. Well, I made him, but you know what I mean.”

Rio would grin, bleary-eyed. “He’s so perfect it hurts.”

That tiny life changed them. Made them see the world with sharper edges and deeper tenderness.

Life was hectic and, admittedly, they’d talked about marriage only in theoretical ways. But on a quiet Sunday afternoon, with the city’s noise a distant murmur, Rio looked up from the laundry basket in their kitchen, saw Agatha bouncing a fussy, six-month-old Nicky on her hip, and simply knew.

“Marry me,” she said, setting aside the shirt she was folding.

Agatha glanced over, eyebrows raised. “Now?”

“Always,” Rio murmured, crossing the room in two strides. She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Agatha’s mouth, mindful that Nicky was wedged between them, babbling. “I don’t want to wait until life slows down, because that might never happen.”

Agatha’s eyes lit with joy. “I was hoping you’d ask,” she teased, voice catching with emotion. Then she broke into a beautiful, tearful smile. “Yes. Yes.”

Nicky squealed, as if in agreement, and they laughed, hugging each other right there, laundry half-folded, the ring not yet chosen. But that was them: sometimes chaotic, always certain of their love.

⸻

The storm continued most of the night.

After their intense lovemaking, Rio and Agatha drifted into a doze, limbs entwined. But sometime past midnight, Rio woke again, heart pounding. She slipped out of bed, careful not to rouse Agatha, and wandered into the dimly lit hallway.

She found herself at Nicky’s door. She cracked it open, peering in. Even in the darkness, she could make out his small form beneath the covers, breathing softly. The nightlight cast dancing shadows of animal shapes across the walls, illusions that always made Nicky giggle before sleep.

Her chest squeezed. The little girl she’d lost today had been nine, but she also had freckles, also had big innocent dreams.

In the hush of that room, Rio’s eyes stung with fresh tears. She wondered if she was selfish to keep working in such a high-stakes area. Each failure carved another piece out of her heart, leaving her feeling undone. But she couldn’t imagine doing anything else—she couldn’t walk away from saving as many children as she could.

A quiet rustle startled her. Agatha appeared behind her, wearing only a pair of cotton shorts and a worn tank top. Her hair fell around her face in gentle waves.

“You okay?” she asked softly, placing a hand on Rio’s shoulder.

Rio swallowed. “Just watching him,” she whispered. “He’s so beautiful.”

Agatha nodded. “He is.”

Rio felt a trembling sigh escape her. “I keep thinking—what if… if something happened to him? I’d lose my mind. I can’t even handle losing the kids at work sometimes.”

Agatha turned Rio gently, arms slipping around her waist. “Hey,” she murmured, pressing her lips to Rio’s forehead. “I know it’s terrifying. That’s why you love him so fiercely. Because you know how fragile life is.”

Rio sniffled, leaning into Agatha. “It’s just so hard. Balancing it all. The heartbreak. The love. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m not strong enough.”

“Bull,” Agatha said with a half-smile. “You’re the strongest person I know. And if you ever can’t hold yourself up, I’m here. We’re a team.”

Rio exhaled, the tension in her shoulders easing. Together, they stepped back from the door, leaving Nicky to his peaceful slumber. They retreated to their own bedroom and lay entwined beneath the covers again. Rio pressed her face to Agatha’s shoulder, breathing in the comforting scent of her skin.

“I’m sorry I disappeared,” Rio whispered after a long silence. “Not physically, but… I haven’t really been here.”

Agatha stroked her arm in slow, soothing motions. “It happens,” she said. “Especially after a bad day. But every time you get lost, I’ll help bring you back.”

Rio closed her eyes, letting the steady thump of Agatha’s heartbeat lull her. “Thank you,” she breathed.

They fell asleep like that, hearts beating as one.

Over the next few years, life marched on. They fell back into routine: early mornings, quick breakfasts, juggling Nicky’s homework and soccer practice, balancing their intense medical schedules, and occasionally stealing moments of intimacy that reminded them how lucky they were. As Nicky grew, they found themselves faced with new questions about family, about the future. Should they move to a bigger place? Should they adopt another child eventually? Could they handle that with both of their demanding jobs?

One evening, they curled up on the living room couch after putting Nicky to bed. The apartment was silent except for the hum of the old radiator. A stack of medical journals lay abandoned on the coffee table. Agatha rested her head on Rio’s lap, while Rio’s fingers absently traced patterns along her scalp.

“Remember that old dream?” Rio asked quietly, gazing at the collection of pictures on the wall—photos of Nicky at every age, their wedding day in a small garden, a shot of them in scrubs looking exhausted but triumphant.

“Which dream?” Agatha murmured, eyes half-closed.

“That we’d open our own small clinic one day, do nonprofit work somewhere less privileged,” Rio said, lips quirking in a gentle smile. “We talked about it in bed one night, after that first time Nicky slept for six hours straight.”

Agatha laughed softly. “I remember. But we never had the money, or the time, or—”

“Yeah,” Rio finished for her. “I wonder if we ever could make it work. Maybe in five years, or ten. Maybe after we’ve saved up more.”

Agatha rolled onto her back, looking up at Rio. “The idea of it still makes my heart race in a good way. We could do so much good together. No politics of a big hospital, just patient-focused care.”

A slow, mutual smile bloomed between them. For that moment, they let themselves imagine a brighter future. Despite the challenges, neither of them had lost the idealism that had first brought them together.

It was a weekend night when their next chance for “wild and exciting” intimacy came, free of interruptions. Nicky was at a sleepover with friends—his first one that lasted the whole night away from home without either mom on standby. It felt strange, slightly nerve-wracking, but also liberating.

The moment they dropped him off, Rio and Agatha returned to their quiet apartment and grinned at each other across the living room.

“It’s just us tonight,” Rio said, trying to keep her voice casual as a swirl of anticipation flared in her chest.

Agatha quirked an eyebrow, stepping out of her sneakers. “Whatever shall we do?”

For once, they didn’t have to worry about waking a child. They didn’t have to listen for small footsteps shuffling to the bathroom in the middle of the night. No babysitters’ texts. No rush to check the clock. The freedom buzzed through both of them.

Rio took Agatha’s hand. “How about dinner first? We haven’t had a real date night in forever.”

Agatha nodded, but the gleam in her eye was mischievous. “Food can wait a bit, though, can’t it?”

Rio’s stomach fluttered. “It can,” she agreed.

They tumbled into the bedroom, shedding clothes as they went. Agatha’s laugh filled the air as Rio’s shirt snagged on a doorknob. They left the lights on this time, wanting to see every inch of each other. Their bodies had changed over the years: subtle scars from life, laugh lines around the eyes, the lingering softness of post-partum curves on Agatha. But all of it was the map of who they’d become together, and each mark only deepened the love in Rio’s eyes.

Agatha pressed Rio onto the bed, pinning her wrists lightly above her head. A surge of excitement made Rio’s pulse jump. She loved the playful dominance that sometimes coursed through Agatha. She loved not being in control for once.

“Don’t move,” Agatha commanded gently, leaning down to kiss along Rio’s jaw. “Or I might stop.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Rio teased, but she obeyed, letting her arms rest above her.

Agatha’s kisses trailed down Rio’s neck, teased along the outer curve of her breast before finally circling a taut nipple. Warm lips closed around it, and Rio inhaled sharply, arching her back.

“Mmm,” Rio moaned, “that feels so—”

“Shh,” Agatha coaxed, releasing one nipple to move to the other. She let her free hand wander, drifting across Rio’s ribs, her stomach, and eventually lower. The slightest brush of fingertips over Rio’s inner thigh made Rio’s breath catch.

A slow, tantalizing exploration followed. Agatha licked and sucked at Rio’s breasts, leaving them flushed. Her tongue dipped into the hollow of Rio’s collarbone, tasted the salt of her skin. When she finally slid her hand between Rio’s thighs, she found her wet, more than ready. Rio whimpered, lifting her hips.

Agatha chuckled, a wicked smile on her lips. “So needy,” she teased, but the love shone clear in her eyes.

Rio found her voice. “Blame yourself.”

Agatha slipped two fingers inside, curling them in a way that made Rio’s eyes roll back. At the same time, Agatha leaned over to capture Rio’s mouth in a devouring kiss. Their tongues tangled, breath mingling, and Rio’s free hand latched onto Agatha’s shoulder. Though she’d been told not to move, she couldn’t help digging her nails into Agatha’s skin, urging her deeper.

The pleasure mounted fast, intense. Each thrust of Agatha’s fingers was met by Rio’s determined roll of the hips. The wet sounds and their ragged breathing filled the room. Agatha slowed, then quickened, making Rio whine in frustration and then gasp with delight. That control, that skill—Agatha knew exactly how to undo her.

When the orgasm built to a breaking point, Rio let out a frantic, breathy moan. “Agatha, I’m— I’m close—”

Agatha nipped at Rio’s lower lip. “Let go.”

Rio’s body bowed, a silent cry lodging in her throat as she came, wave after wave. Agatha never looked away from her, soaking in every pulse of pleasure that rippled through Rio’s body. Finally, Rio slumped back, chest heaving, limbs loose with euphoria.

She opened her eyes to see Agatha poised over her with a smug grin. “Don’t think I’m done,” Agatha murmured, leaning down to press a hot kiss to Rio’s neck. “We’ve got all night.”

Rio’s belly clenched with renewed arousal at the promise in that tone. “God, you’re going to kill me.”

Agatha laughed, a low, sultry sound. “Never,” she promised. “I want you alive—and begging.”

And so the night continued in a heady blur of lips and hands, breathless giggles, and hushed cries of pleasure. They switched positions, sometimes frantic, sometimes languid. At one point, Rio rolled on top and teased Agatha until the woman was delirious with want, tangling the bedsheets around them both. Their kisses ranged from gentle to biting, from playful to near-desperate. Each orgasm was its own surrender, a testament to how they trusted each other to hold any vulnerability, any fear.

By the time they finally collapsed—drenched in sweat, hearts hammering—it was almost two in the morning. No child’s footsteps. No fear of being overheard. Just the two of them, reclaiming the spark that had first drawn them together in that Baltimore hotel room.

Agatha brushed tangled hair off Rio’s forehead. “I think we should do more date nights,” she teased, voice scratchy.

Rio laughed, pressing a soft kiss to Agatha’s bare shoulder. “I agree.”

They fell asleep like that, sweaty and sated, the entire bed a tangle of limbs and sheets that smelled of sex and promise.

Sunlight found them curled under a thin blanket, exhausted but content. When Rio’s eyes finally opened around nine, she startled—she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in so late. Then she remembered: Nicky was away. For a second, she felt the pang of missing him, but it was swiftly replaced by the warmth of Agatha’s arm draped across her waist.

They spent the morning in bed, dozing in and out of consciousness, exchanging languid kisses. Around noon, they dragged themselves into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over them. More kisses, some laughter, playful splashing that turned into pinned arms and gentle moans against the shower tiles. They eventually managed to towel off and slip into clean clothes, finding an easy, tender domesticity in the aftermath of their sensual marathon.

Agatha brewed coffee while Rio flipped through takeout menus, deciding they’d treat themselves. Over greasy Chinese food containers at the kitchen counter, they talked about everything and nothing—travel plans for next summer, the new staff at the hospital, Nicky’s unstoppable obsession with dinosaurs.

“I feel more like myself than I have in years,” Rio admitted, taking a sip of coffee. “It’s like… I get lost in the heartbreak at work sometimes. But nights like last night remind me I’m more than just a doctor who can’t save everyone.”

Agatha reached across the counter and squeezed Rio’s hand, her gaze brimming with warmth. “You are enough,” she said softly. “You’re my best friend, my partner, Nicky’s mother, our provider, my rock. A thousand things at once—and I love every single one of them.”

Rio smiled, her eyes misting. “I love you too.”

They picked Nicky up from his friend’s house later that afternoon. The second he saw them, Nicky bounded over, backpack swinging, freckles dancing across his nose.

“Mami! Mama!” he shouted, launching himself into Rio’s arms. She grunted and stumbled back, then spun him around, nose buried in his hair.

“Have fun?” Agatha asked, ruffling his curls.

He nodded vigorously. “We watched a dinosaur movie and had pizza and played tag. But I missed you guys.”

Rio’s heart melted. She hugged him tighter. “We missed you too.”

In the car, Nicky chattered about his night away, oblivious to the secret little smiles exchanged between his mothers. Rio’s gaze flicked to Agatha’s, remembering how just hours ago, they’d been moaning each other’s names in bed, free and uninhibited.

A week later, another storm brewed. This time, it wasn’t the weather—it was the phone call from the hospital. A complicated pediatric emergency. Rio’s day off vanished in a flash of adrenaline. She rushed out, calling over her shoulder for Agatha to pick up Nicky and manage dinner. Agatha understood; she always did. There was no frustration in her voice, only concern.

Hours ticked by. The child survived, but it was touch-and-go. Rio stayed to make sure everything stabilized, to update the family, to hold the mother’s hand as tears of relief replaced terror. By the time she trudged home, it was nearly 2am. The door opened just enough for her to slip inside, exhausted.

Agatha was waiting in the living room, reading a book. Nicky was asleep. The table lamp cast a warm glow, haloing Agatha in golden light. Rio dropped her bag and kicked off her shoes.

“You saved them tonight, didn’t you?” Agatha asked softly.

Rio nodded, relief and weariness warring in her expression. “Yeah. That was… it was close.”

Agatha smiled. “Come to bed with me.”

Their bedroom carried the hush of night. Rio changed into pajamas, every bone in her body heavy with exhaustion. She slid between the cool sheets to join Agatha. Instinctively, they curled close, legs tangling. Agatha traced gentle circles on Rio’s arm.

“I wish I could promise that it won’t hurt so much every time,” Agatha said. “But I know you’d never believe me. And I know you wouldn’t want to believe it, because if it didn’t hurt, you wouldn’t be the same person.”

Rio swallowed. “I can’t imagine not feeling it so deeply.”

“It’s what makes you so good at your job,” Agatha said. “And also, it’s what can break you if you don’t have something to anchor you.”

Rio nestled her face in the crook of Agatha’s neck. “You. You’re my anchor. You and Nicky.”

Agatha’s eyes shone. “And you’re ours.”

Their kiss was soft, tender, no urgency this time—just two souls re-centering on each other, a promise renewed.

Somewhere down the hall, Nicky stirred in his sleep, but stayed asleep. Outside, traffic hummed, but inside their home, there was the hush of two hearts in sync.

Morning light streamed through the curtains, revealing the slow dance of dust motes. Nicky bounded in, full of morning exuberance, wearing mismatched pajamas. He climbed onto the bed between his mothers, squirming to wedge his way into the warm space.

“Mami, Mama, wake up!” he insisted, brandishing a toy dinosaur.

Agatha opened her eyes first, her grin sleepy. “Hello, munchkin. You’re up early.”

Nicky shrugged, nestling between them. “I got hungry.”

Rio yawned, arm flopping over her face. “Okay, let’s go feed you, little monster.”

He giggled. “I’m not a monster, I’m a dinosaur.”

Both women laughed. It was a simple, ordinary family moment—one that smelled of morning breath and warm blankets. But these were the instants that made every heartbreak at the hospital bearable. The unconditional love in that bed overshadowed the fear that had once plagued them.

Soon, they trailed into the kitchen, where coffee would be made and cartoons might flicker on the TV for Nicky. Agatha would inevitably slip behind Rio to murmur a little “good morning” kiss onto her neck, and Rio would steal a moment to press her palm to the small of Agatha’s back in silent gratitude.

They were far from perfect.

Nothing about their high-pressure jobs or the ache of losing patients ever truly vanished. They still argued, cried, worried over bills, daycare, and the million demands of parenthood.

Yet whenever the world threatened to pull them under, they clung to each other—anchored by the same spark that lit up a shabby conference lobby in Baltimore, where a spilled latte and a cracked heel somehow became the first step of a lifelong bond. Their love was as fierce as any storm—and it refused to break.

[fanfic-recs-01]

Hannigram Fics

This is just a list of Hannibal Lecter/Will Graham Fics I like on AO3, if you have any recs for me feel free to send me some!

Updated 2/2/25

Philia by Gweezle

~Getting into Jack Crawford's Forensic Psychology class was a dream come true for Will Graham, until he learns that his final assignment is to attend twelve interviews with the notorious serial killer, Hannibal the Cannibal, in order to unravel his mysterious past.~

Night Shift by PossessiveNoun

~There are certain rules to follow when working for Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Under no circumstances are you to engage any of the inmates in personal conversation, put yourself in a position where they can cause you serious injury, or let them get inside your head..~

Devils in the Dark by DarkmoonSigel

~After having encephalitis and brutally murdering a serial killer who tried to kill his dogs, Will Graham finds himself in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Life is dull until the Chesapeake Ripper is brought down to the lower levels to live in a cell beside Will.~

The Other Side of the Mirror by nbcravenstag

~On his way home from their last supper, Will Graham suddenly changes his mind.~

The Ripper and the Wendigo by nbcravenstag

~The Chesapeake Ripper and the Wendigo, two notorious serial killers and prisoners of the BSHCI are being transported across town in the same van. They’ve never met, but their instant connection is beautiful, powerful, and deadly to everyone involved.~

Ten Little Numbers by sourweather

~Will and Bev have a game they like to play. They go to bars and see who can get the most phone numbers from strangers. One night, he meets a very interesting stranger. Is he safe falling hard and fast for Hannibal Lecter, or is the mysterious man making his way into Will's heart hiding something much more sinister beneath the surface?~

let not man tear asunder by cannibalspectacle 

~The FBI wants the disgraced Dr. Lecter's help catching a killer called Buffalo Bill. Dr. Lecter wants something in exchange.~

White Shark Café by justheretoreadhannibalfics

~Will owns a café, and killers love it.~

I Am Here to Serve My Muse by PassingShadow

~In which Artist!Will is inspired by the Chesapeake Ripper, and Hannibal is intrigued in turn.~

Anchor in a Lockdown by Anna_Jay 

~In which Will is an unfortunate prison guard who is sent to work the red zone, the current home of Dr. Hannibal Lecter.~

Pattern Break by ThisBeautifulDrowning

~After his release from the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Will doesn't return to work for the FBI.~

We Can Chase the Dark Together by K_R_Closson 

~Will tips him and Hannibal off the cliff. Instead of hitting the water, he wakes up in his bed, several years in the past. His first, and only, priority is to find Hannibal again.~

La Maison Rouge by Randstad

~Hannibal starts to show up at Will's house at the crack of dawn to make him breakfast, killing two birds with one stone: cooking is one of his many passions, and, honestly, Will Graham is climbing up the list.~

Never Conquered, Rarely Came by thisisthefamilybusiness

~Normally, this is the part where Will would pick up his cell phone and leave an anonymous tip on the police crime hotline, tell them there was a cannibalistic serial murderer lurking around the area code of the phone number given in the ad. But not today. Not when his very bones ache and all the raw and bruised places on his skin throb in time with his pulse. Not when exhaustion is slowly eating away at him in a way that has nothing to do with how little he slept last night.~

The Borderland State by nekosmuse

~Three years after Hannibal's arrest, Will Graham stands on the front porch of his Georgian seaside home and watches twin headlights navigate the winding stretch of his lane. There is only one reason Jack Crawford would travel all this way, in the rain: Hannibal Lecter has escaped from prison, and no one knows where he is.~

Kindling by gleamingandwholeanddeadly (something_safe)

~When Franklyn's advances of friendship become too much for even Hannibal to politely ignore, he enlists Will's help.~

My Husband by VictoriaAGrey

~“My husband this, my husband that. It’s a wonder Jack hasn’t followed your trail of “my husband”s to our front door.”

“He doesn’t know we’re married.”

“He’s the only one!”~

We Killed a Dragon Last Night by inameitlater 

~Will remembers falling.

He wakes up months before Jack got him to work for him. Months before he met Hannibal for the first time.

Free from his past he decides to change events and meet Hannibal again.~

Falls the Shadow by littlesystems

~AKA an AU where Bedelia is Will’s psychiatrist instead of Hannibal, Will makes a series of increasingly questionable life choices, and no one should ever take Bedelia’s advice. Ever.~

haarlem by spqr

~“Hannibal,” he thinks he says. He gets told later that he doesn’t really say it at all, but that the entire police station—most of which is waiting outside in the rainy parking lot—hears his voice clattering around inside their skulls like someone standing on a roof banging pots and pans and screaming at the top of his lungs: HANNIBAL, HANNIBAL, HANNIBAL.~

[gaysails]

The Wire is an American crime drama television series created and primarily written by American author and former police reporter David Simon . . . Set and produced in Baltimore, Maryland, The Wire introduces a different institution of the city and its relationship to law enforcement in each season while retaining characters and advancing storylines from previous seasons. The five subjects are, in chronological order; the illegal drug trade, the port system, the city government and bureaucracy, education and schools, and the print news medium. . .

Simon has said that despite its framing as a crime drama, the show is "really about the American city, and about how we live together. It's about how institutions have an effect on individuals. Whether one is a cop, a longshoreman, a drug dealer, a politician, a judge or a lawyer, all are ultimately compromised and must contend with whatever institution to which they are committed."[5]

The Wire is lauded for its literary themes, its uncommonly accurate exploration of society and politics, and its realistic portrayal of urban life. During its original run, the series received only average ratings and never won any major television awards, but it is now often cited as one of the greatest shows in the history of television.[6]

. . .

Salon has described the show as novelistic in structure, with a greater depth of writing and plotting than other crime shows.[27]

Each season of The Wire consists of 10 to 13 episodes that form several multi-layered narratives. Simon chose this structure with an eye towards long story arcs that draw in viewers, resulting in a more satisfying payoff. He uses the metaphor of a visual novel in several interviews,[7][48] describing each episode as a chapter, and has also commented that this allows a fuller exploration of the show's themes in time not spent on plot development.[5]

. . .

"We are not selling hope, or audience gratification, or cheap victories with this show. The Wire is making an argument about what institutions—bureaucracies, criminal enterprises, the cultures of addiction, raw capitalism even—do to individuals. It is not designed purely as an entertainment. It is, I'm afraid, a somewhat angry show.[52]"

[burlveneer-music]

In the Sun - Dawn - I've previously experienced folktronica as being pastoral in nature, but when it's based on percussive folk music it apparently tends more toward industrial

Pounding traditional drums and grinding synths herald Dawn, the new album from post-industrial Tokyo duo IN THE SUN, their first release on Chinabot. Dawn was inspired by the musical traditions and wild mountain landscapes of composer TIDEPOOL’s childhood in rural Japan. Layers of ethereal synthesizers and wailing saxophones by Kim Pueru evoke the mist and granite of mountains are beaten with rhythms that hit like shattering rocks. The record “embodies a fusion of synthetic and percussive elements, evoking both mysticism and raw energy,” says TIDEPOOL. “The juxtaposition of dystopian undertones and the resilience of nature serves as a thematic backdrop, reflecting on societal shifts and personal introspection.” Dawn’s instrumentation may be inspired by Japanese taiko drums and African percussion, but it remains extremely contemporary, with swirling rhythms of singeli, juke, footwork, gabber, and minimal to create an evil cacophony. The album also nods to the GORGE movement, which is experiencing a resurgence in Japan. Organized by TIDEPOOL since 2011, IN THE SUN has a fluid lineup, with Kim Pueru joining on tenor saxophone for Dawn. TIDEPOOL utilizes ethnic drums, synthesizers, and laptops and is influenced and inspired by artists such as Haruomi Hosono, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Throbbing Gristle, Geinoh Yamashirogumi, CAN, among others. They supported Baltimore duo Matmos during their Japan tour and organized the party known as “RAW TEMPO” at Bushbash. 

[youtappedout]

[duckymcdoorknob]

𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂 7: 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭

woooo I’m almost caught up

I’m so seepy, but both classes got cancelled sonow I can write all morning

Hehe good morning Baltimore

Omg now I wanna watch Hairspray again. Anyways-

GOD THIS IS SO LONG SEND HELP

Tags: @chrimsss @ticklish-n-stuff @secret-weeb-account

—this do have tickles below the cut ngl. Also angsty again, oops—

Saiki has always been someone who swore that his friends piss him off, but in reality, he has a big soft spot for them. So when Kaidou’s birthday came around, what kind of monster would he be if he didn’t attend the party and get the best gift ever?

He curses his brilliant mind most times, but when he needs the calculator from it, it’s always there for him.

Just like Kaidou…

Oh dear, now he really needs to go above and beyond.

He spent ages perusing the shelves of multiple stores, comparing prices and name brands (while also considering the off brands.)

After three hours, the treasured gift lay pristinely wrapped in a blue wrapping paper, adorned with a large, red bow.

He looks down at his watch and- oh dear, he would be late.

That’s alright, better to show up with an excuse than to show up and have the risk of someone seeing him telep-

In a flash, Kusuo appeared down the block of Kaidou’s home. He checked his surroundings to ensure that no one had seen the action.

What had happened?

There was a roach, naturally.

Regardless, he checked his watch once more and he was perfectly on time.

Kusuo raised his hand to knock on the door and did so. He was met by a rather enthusiastic “C’MON IN!!!!!!”

When he entered the house, he was truly taken aback…

He was the only one who was in there other than Kaidou.

Okay, now he was pissed off, like really pissed.

“Kaidou, am I the only one that you invited?” He had to check, there’s no way that his friends wouldn’t-

Looking rather melancholic, the silver-haired boy replied. “No, just waiting on the others! You know them, late for everything! Haha!”

The psychic felt a tinge of remorse in his chest. It didn’t require him reading his friend’s mind to understand that Kaidou was devastated.

“And your family?”

“They uh, they went out to celebrate Toki’s birthday… it’s not even his actual birthday today either.” he murmured.

“What the hell is their problem?” Kusuo hissed. “It’s your birthday; this is your day.”

“Look, Saiki it’s-“

“Don’t say it’s okay, because it’s definitely not.”

“They have to celebrate my little brother, it’s-“

“Without you?”

The question left the birthday boy in silence. He turned toward the wall and averted his gaze. It didn’t take a psychic to notice his heaving chest and understand that he was crying.

“Kaidou…”

“N-no it’s… it’s o-okay.”

“Look at me.”

The silver-haired boy turned toward his friend with puffy eyes, tears leaking out of them.

Kusuo wasn’t sure what possessed him to do so, but his hand moved upward and gently swiped away the tears that were falling. “No one cries on their birthday, not on my watch.”

The Jet Black Wings smiled, cheeks tinting pink as he scrubbed at his leaking eyes. “You always know how to make me feel better, Saiki.”

“Hey, hey, no. You’ll rub your eyes raw. Let me do it.” Saiki gently wiped his friend’s eyes once more, eyebrows knit in remorse. This of course only made Kaidou cry harder.

The pink-haired boy short-circuited when he felt the latter lean down against his torso for a hug. But, somehow, something in him told him to hug back…

“S-Sorry for making t-things so awkward.”

“Not awkward at all; it’s not like I’ve never seen you cry before.” Kusuo hummed as he gave a few pats to the boy’s shoulder.

“Uggghhh that’s right.” He shoved his face into Saiki’s shirt, indubitably staining it with tears.

Poor Kaidou… what can he do to make him-

That’s it.

He’s seen Nendou do it before, and scientifically it’s impossible to mess up.

But what if he hurts him? That’s the last thing Kaidou needs right now.

Well, no time like the present.

In a moment of comfortable silence, Kusuo carefully pressed his fingers into his friend’s sides, pinching a bit. He felt the latter shift in response, whining a bit.

“Nooo, don’t tickle me.”

“I told you that I’m not letting you cry on your birthday.”

Kaidou’s hands came up to cover his ears, weird.

“What’s wrong with your ears? Why cover them?”

“N-Nothing.” Kaidou’s voice was up by at least an octave as his hands shook.

“Well, you left yourself wide open.”

“…You wouldn’t.”

Oh he would, and he did. The pink-haired boy brought his hands up to the birthday boy’s underarms and gently wiggled them.

“Hyehehehahaha! Saha-sahahahaihihihikihi! Nohohoho!”

Kusuo hummed fondly when his friend brought his arms down, revealing why he had covered his ears. The tips of them were flushed a beautiful shade of scarlet red, and it was creeping down his neck. “Ohhhh, you’re embarassed, aren’t you?”

A giggly whine was what he received in reply, the blush deepening. “Sahahahihihikihihi- dohohohont—hehehe—behehehe mehehehean.”

“Mean? I could never be mean. Didn’t you know that? I’m completely devoid of human emotion, I thought we’ve covered this in the Dark Reunion episode.” Hands traveled to Kaidou’s ribs and began their attack.

“AGH! DOHOHOHONT BREHEHEHEAK THEHEHE FOHOHOHOURTH WAHAHAHALL!”

“Should I listen to him, everyone?”

“STAHAH-STAHAHAP THAHAHAT! YOHOHOHOU KNOHOHOHOW IHIHIHIHI HAHAHATEHEHE- HYEHEHAHAHAHA! SAHAHAHIHIHIKIHIHI!”

“What’s wrong? Embarassed?” Kusuo could feel the warmth in Kaidou’s face as he continued his ticklish assault.

“YEHEHEHES!” A whined reply.

“Mmm, sounds like you’re still crying though. You know I can’t have you crying on your birthday.”

When hands traveled down to his tummy, it was over. The silver-haired boy fell backwards on the couch, covering his horrendously red face with his hands. He screamed into his hands as he whined incoherently through his laughter. “OKAHAHAHAY! IHIHIHI- IHIHIHI CAHAHANT!”

“Oh? Is this spot ticklish?”

“YEHEHEHES! TOHOHOHOO TIHIHICK- OHOHO MYGOHOHOD! STOPSTOPSTOP KUHUHUSUHUOHOHO!”

When he had heard the rare usage of his first name, Saiki let off his attack. A smile was on both of their faces as Kaidou panted into his hands.

“Oh you’re such a dick, dude.”

“Maybe, but at least you’re smiling.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. The two turned toward it, and of course, Kusuo already knew who it was.

“C-Come on in!”

The door opened to reveal all of their friends, drenched from head to toe, and holding boxes under their clothes.

The birthday boy gasped as he jumped up from the couch with a huge smile. “You came! You came!”

“Yeah, sorry we’re late,” Aren hummed. “Nendou forgot your present at home and then it started pouring. SOMEONE-“ he gestured to Hairo, “decided that it would be a “fun challenge” to run through the rain without an umbrella.”

A giggle escaped him, “Don’t worry. I’m glad you’re all here.”

“As for you, why are you so red?” Nendou accused. “Got something you’re hiding from us, buddy?”

“Wh- no! Nononono! I don’t have anything to hide, Saiki just tickled me and- uh oh.”

“Tickled you, huh?”

Kusuo could hear the menace in Aren’s voice, opting to stand up as the group abandoned their gifts and tackled Kaidou to the couch.

“Go easy on him, he’s still catching his breath.”

The four nodded at him and soon the joyful giggles of the birthday boy filled the room once more. The psychic smiled as he used his powers to check under the wrapping paper and-

Oh no…

Nendou had bought the same present he did.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[awildtei]

Andrew haunted?? 👀

Sorry if you were expecting the sexy, ghostly kind of haunting... It's just the 👻 trauma 👻 kind of haunting

"It’s something that doesn’t leave after. The pain is gone, but the body moves with the phantom of it, carefully walking around the edges of the crater it left behind. Andrew has never needed any help keeping the score, his mind does that well enough. His body has always felt secondary to that remembering, just a prop in the endless movie of his darkest nights.

Lately, though, he thinks he might have been wrong about that. His mind doesn’t forget and probably never will, but some of it has become hazier, mercifully softer at the edges. Pain—visceral, raw, sharp, and extended—can only truly be felt and stored in the body, and his brain is not the only part of his body he listens to anymore.

But being haunted is not always a bad thing. It can be a kindness. It’s a safeguard against it happening again, even if it’s not real, even if it’s a futile precaution. It’s not the cruelty of the harm inflicted that makes him haunted, but the kindness of his body looking out for him, and he’s done resenting it for trying.

Despite their reputation, he's learned that ghosts can be gentle. One of the men he’s built a life with is the reincarnated ghost of a child left to die in a mansion in Baltimore. The other one is living in the afterdeath of a boy with an Irish lilt and a young man found dead from alcohol poisoning. The man Andrew is died a thousand deaths in a dozen beds in two different states, and yet here he stands.

This is another kindness, one that goes unmentioned but not unnoticed, that of being unalone with his ghosts. For so long it was just him on the other side of a line separating those acquainted with the barrel from those acquainted with the trigger, but he’s got company now. Neil, whose face and arms melt with cigarette lighter burns as they lie on the couch on a cool winter evening. Kevin, who knows better than anyone that bones remember the second they are pushed right past their breaking point, even if they’ve long since fused back together. Even Aaron—he sometimes acknowledges—knows the dull throbbing pain of bruises can make unblemished skin tender on days when memory lurks close.

Today Andrew’s body is not his own, but yesterday it was, tomorrow it probably will be again. And tomorrow, like yesterday, his mind will be elsewhere, on Neil and Kevin and the cats (little ghosts, them, too, scheduled for euthanasia until they got them from the overfull shelter) and Exy and doing the grocery shopping and the endless mundanity of living past your twenties despite all the odds being determinedly stacked against you, having scribbled endless months on blank pages when the calendar ended."

[will-grahams-glasses]

Ko No Mono contains one of my favourite scenes between Will and Hannibal (bear with me on this dumping of all my feelings).

This is one of the first (and only) times that Hannibal really does let Will see him. He tells him about Mischa, and you can tell he's likely never told anyone about her before.

They talk about Abigail, and Will is visibly still distraught over her death and Hannibal looks genuinely upset that he's caused Will this pain, to the extent that Hannibal can't even look at him.

It's the first time we see Hannibal so vulnerable. He's opening up about everything, he's showing real, genuine emotion and he actually apologises to Will for taking Abigail away which is unlike him anyway because when would he ever apologise for killing someone? And this is also probably the nearest he's ever got to admitting to a murder to Will. He is letting Will know him, SEE HIM!!

And when he does apologise, his voice is barely above a whisper, and he genuinely means it. I think this conversation is what makes Hannibal decide to plan a future for himself, Will and Abigail far away from Baltimore and the FBI, so that he can give her back to Will.

And I think this is the first time since Will's villain era that Will has been genuinely open and honest with Hannibal. It's the first time that Will has been able to drop the pretence and speak to Hannibal on a sincere, human level.

Then Hannibal has the little speech about dropping a teacup, hoping one day it'll come back together. He's letting Will see what's inside of his mind, letting him know how he thinks and sees the world.

He puts so much trust into Will in this scene, which makes Mizumono all the more heartbreaking because Hannibal is led to believe that rare trust that was given was misplaced, which is why he was utterly devastated by Will's betrayal.

It's just such a beautiful, raw, heartbreaking scene. Mads and Hugh bring so much to this scene. The lip curl that Mads so often adopts when his characters are upset, the look of absolute heartbreak in Hugh’s eyes.

I could honestly talk about this scene for hours. 🥲

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Lori Ann Larocco at CNBC:

Billions in trade came to a screeching halt at U.S. East Coast and Gulf Coast ports after members of the International Longshoremen’s Association (ILA) began walking off the job after 12:01 a.m. ET on October 1. The ILA is North America’s largest longshoremen’s union, with roughly 50,000 of its 85,000 members making good on the threat to strike at 14 major ports subject to a just-expired master contract with the United States Maritime Alliance (USMX), and picketing workers beginning to appear at ports. The union and port ownership group failed to reach agreement by midnight on a new contract in a protracted battle over wage increases and use of automation. In a last-ditch effort on Monday to avert a strike that will cause significant harm to the U.S. economy if it is lengthy — at least hundreds of millions of dollars a day at the largest ports like New York/New Jersey — the USMX offered a nearly 50% wage hike over six years, but that was rejected by the ILA, according to a source close to the negotiations. The port ownership group said it hoped the offer would lead to a resumption of collective bargaining.

The 14 ports where preparations for a strike have been underway are Boston, New York/New Jersey, Philadelphia, Wilmington, North Carolina, Baltimore, Norfolk, Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville, Tampa, Miami, New Orleans, Mobile, and Houston. New York Governor Kathy Hochul said in a statement issued shortly after midnight that “the first large-scale eastern dockworker strike in 47 years began at ports from Maine to Texas, including at the Port Authority of New York and New Jersey. In preparation for this moment, New York has been working around the clock to ensure that our grocery stores and medical facilities have the essential products they need.” Rhetoric from ILA leadership has been aggressive in the weeks leading up to the strike, with ILA president Harold Daggett, who was a union member the last time it went out on strike in 1977, telling rank-and-file members — who unanimously voted to authorize a strike — in a recent video message, “We’ll crush them.” 

[...] The most significant issues would be faced by food and automobile industries, Kamins said, as they rely especially heavily on the ports that will be shut down. While a surge in inflation is highly unlikely even with a longer strike, even a modest reacceleration could create uncertainty and force the Federal Reserve to be more cautious about lowering interest rates, which would weigh on the overall outlook for job growth and investment. A one-week strike could cost the U.S. economy $3.78 billion, according to an analysis by The Conference Board, and cause supply chain slowdowns through mid-November. In all, the ports threatened with strikes handle $3 trillion annually in U.S. annual international trade.

Many industries are preparing for major repercussions. Noushin Shamsili, CEO and president of Nuco Logistics, which specializes in pharmaceutical imports and exports, said the strike comes at a critical time for inventory replenishment for the pharma sector. “Almost all of this industry is just on time,” said Shamsili. “Raw materials are being brought in to complete drug manufacturing. Medical supplies for clinics and hospitals are on these vessels. For a while importers did not bring in a lot of cargo because they were overflowing with supplies post-Covid. Now they have started reordering medical devices, gloves, syringes, and tubing.” Shamsili also said the East Coast ports are a gateway for generic medicine made in India. Approximately 48% of the active pharmaceutical ingredients used in the U.S. are being imported from India. Without these APIs, medications cannot be produced. APIs are also manufactured in Europe, which also use the East Coast ports as U.S. points of entry.

[...] The Biden administration finds itself in a delicate political moment, with the presidential election one month away and President Biden vowing he will not use existing labor law to force union workers back on the job, which is within his powers under the Taft-Hartley Act. The Taft-Hartley Act, passed in 1947, was a revision of U.S. law governing labor relations and union activity that granted a U.S. president the power to suspend a strike for an 80-day “cooling off period” in cases where “national health or safety” are at risk. 

Today begins the strike along East Coast and Gulf Coast ports after International Longshoremen’s Association (ILA) members walked off their jobs.

This strike, depending on how long it lasts, could have a major impact on the elections and the economy.

[madamsnape921]

On the Plus Side

Chaper 6

<Chapter 5

Pairing: Frederick Chilton x female reader 

Warning: more ridiculousness, only one bed 

WC: 1674

Raúl Taglist: @beccabarba @alwaysachorusgirl @law-nerd105 @thatesqcrush @prurientpuddlejumper  @welcometothemxdhouse @itsjustmyfantasyroom @lv7867 @word-scribbless 

@plaidbooks @storiesofsvu @navalcriminalimagines 

On the Plus Side Taglist: @caracalwithchips @jackdanieltorrance

“Wait. Joe, he’s on the list,” the other man behind the door said.

“Well, I’ll be damned, come on in Frederick from Baltimore,” Joe opened the door. “Who is this delicious morsel with you?”

“My girlfriend, Y/N,” Frederick answered quickly, looking annoyed, “and she’s not a morsel for you.”

You stepped forward, “We’re looking for Maradeath Kays or a relative.” 

Joe shrugged as he looked at the couple. “The old lady has been out on a hunt for a week now. We all have told her to retire, but she refuses to let anyone take care of her.”

“When do you expect her to return?”

“She was supposed to be home yesterday before sundown. I fear the worst. The village is not the most friendly to her,” Joe frowned.

“Why not go looking for her?” Frederick questioned. 

Joe stood there dumbfounded and sighed, “She’d kill us if we leave.  We are bound to the manor.” Joe revealed an astral shackle on his wrists.

“For fuck’s sake!! Where would you go to find her? We’ll go,” Frederick sounded highly frustrated. 

Joe hesitated momentarily, clearly torn between his duty and the situation's urgency. Finally, he nodded, resigned. "Very well. Maradeath usually heads out towards the old ruins by the river when she goes on her hunts. It's a dangerous place, but it's where she feels most at home."

Frederick took your hand and led her out the door without wasting another moment, leaving Joe behind. The night air was cool against their skin as they made their way towards the river, guided by the faint scent of blood that lingered in the air.

As they approached the ruins, a sense of foreboding washed over them. The crumbling stones seemed to whisper ancient secrets, and the darkness within seemed to stretch endlessly.

But Frederick tightened his grip on your hand, a determined glint in his eyes. "We will find her," he said softly, his voice tinged with an underlying hunger that had nothing to do with blood.

You looked up at him, seeing a side of Frederick she had never witnessed before. A primal energy surrounded him, a raw power that frightened and exhilarated her. She knew then, beyond a doubt, that Frederick was not just an ordinary man. He was a predator in his own right.

Together, they ventured deeper into the ruins, their footsteps echoing off the ancient stones. The darkness seemed to press in around them, but Frederick's presence was a comforting anchor for you. As they navigated the maze-like corridors, they finally came upon a clearing bathed in moonlight.

There, standing tall and fierce, was Maradeath Kays. Her hair was silver in the pale light, her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. She held a bloodied sword, her gaze fixed on something in the shadows.

"Maradeath," Frederick called out, his voice filled with relief and concern. What had happened here?"

Maradeath turned towards them, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Frederick and Y/N. "You shouldn't have come," she warned, her tone grave.

"We couldn't just leave you out here alone," Frederick replied, stepping closer to her.

As they approached, they saw what had caught Maradeath's attention. A group of rogue vampires lay strewn on the ground, their bodies motionless. These vampires were not like Frederick - they were wild, feral beings without regard for human life.

"They ambushed me," Maradeath explained, her voice tinged with anger. "But I made sure they won't harm anyone else."

You felt a shiver run down her spine at the sight of the fallen vampires.

“What are you doing here, Frederick?” Maradeath asked.

“I’m looking for a day ring for Y/N,” he answered. 

Maradeath smiled, “Congratulations! Take this.” She pulled a smaller version of Frederick’s ring off her finger and handed it to him. “I don’t need it anymore.”

“Thank you so much, Mara.” 

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

“Seriously?” Frederick asked the person at the front desk of their hotel.

“Unfortunately, sir. Your second room was completely flooded and is currently being worked on. If you’d be willing to use the other room, it will be comped, sir,” the nervous girl answered. 

“Fine! This trip just keeps throwing curve balls.”

“Excellent! Thank you, sir! Liam will escort you to retrieve your things from the messed-up room.”

After grabbing your bag from the ruined room, you head to Frederick’s room.

“Do you mind if I steal the shower first?” you asked as soon as you entered the room.

“Of course not, love,” Frederick answered distractedly, followed by a quick kiss on your forehead.

After your shower, you went to the bedroom wearing shorts and a tank top. 

“I regret needing to shower now. I’d rather spend the time looking at you,” Frederick pouted.

You laughed as he headed into the bathroom and passed the time by unpacking your bag.

You were about to crawl into the bed when Frederick came back out completely naked.

“Oh no, no, no… you are way too overdressed for my bed, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” you asked while trying to keep your eyes off his hard cock.

Frederick approached you and started pulling your tank top off. You were still so stunned that you just let him. 

“Mmm, you look beautiful,” Frederick said, moving to remove your shorts. 

 “Am I wearing the correct amount of clothes now, Dr. Chilton?” you stood there completely naked with a smirk on your face. 

In response, Frederick picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. “Absolutely. You are so sexy,” he moved on top of you, pressing his lips to yours.

Frederick forced his tongue into your mouth. You squirmed beneath him, feeling your body responding to the intimacy of the moment. The kiss intensified as you wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the connection. Frederick’s touch, coupled with his dominant nature, always excited you. A gentle moan escaped your lips as Frederick's hands trailed down your back and over your ass, pulling you closer to him.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses that made your skin tingle. Frederick's deep voice rumbled in your ear, "I need you, Y/N. I need to be inside you."

Your heart pounded with anticipation as you nodded, permitting him to take you. Frederick kissed his way down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched as he took his time, savoring each inch of your skin before reaching his final destination.

With a wicked grin, Frederick positioned himself between your legs. His large penis was already rock hard and ready to claim you. He wasted no time, entering you slowly at first, letting you grow accustomed to his size. You gasped and clenched your muscles around him, feeling him stretch you wide.

His deep moan echoed through the room as he began to thrust, his hips moving in tandem with yours. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, the rhythm of his cock sliding in and out of your wet heat driving you both wild.

You could feel his muscles flexing, the strength in his arms and thighs, as he held himself above you, taking you with unyielding determination. His eyes never left yours, his expression a mixture of hunger and adoration.

As he pumped into you harder and faster, Frederick's breaths became ragged, and his grip tightened on your hips. His lips found your neck once more, his teeth sinking into the skin there, adding a new level of intensity to the encounter. Your heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts as you met him with equal enthusiasm.

"Yes, Frederick," you panted, your voice barely audible over the sounds of your breaths and their bodies smacking together. "Take me."

He did, thrusting into you with a powerful surge, his cock stretching and filling you. You arched your back, crying out in pleasure, feeling the drag of his shaft as he plunged into your depths.

With a low growl, Frederick's hips rocked faster and harder, his pace becoming erratic as he made love to you with a primitive intensity. Your walls tightened around him, clutching at him with each thrust, drawing out a low groan of pleasure from him.

"Faster, Dr. Chilton," you urged, grinding your hips against him. "Make me yours."

Frederick complied, driving into you with fierce determination. His thrusts were deep and powerful, his cock hitting your most sensitive spot with each movement. Your senses were overwhelmed as you reached the peak of your pleasure, your body shuddering with the force of your climax.

"Frederick!" you cried, your voice echoing through the room as your eyes rolled back in your head.

Feeling your muscles clench around his cock, Frederick lost control, his hips thrusting wildly as he joined you in your release. He roared out your name, his pleasure mingling with yours as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

For what felt like an eternity, you lay trembling in each other's arms, your bodies sweaty and sated. As your breathing slowly returned to normal, Frederick pulled out of you, his erection leaving a wet trail along your thighs. He pushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, his expression soft and filled with love.

"You are mine, Y/N," Frederick whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "And I am yours."

You smiled at him, feeling the same emotions mirrored in your heart. "Always," you promised, your fingers tracing the outline of his face. 

As the day's events began to fade, you lay together, wrapped up in each other's arms, feeling the warmth of your love and the safety of your bond. And in that moment, all the chaos and curveballs of the world seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you locked in a passionate embrace.

[youtappedout]

[wrestlinghistorywithkay]

Follow The Buzzards: The Debut of The Wyatt Family

Since Monday Night RAW is in Baltimore tonight and the in ring debut of The Wyatt Sicks is tonight as well, I decided to write about the debut of the legendary stable , The Wyatt Family.

The Wyatt Family consisted of the late , Bray Wyatt ( Windham Rotunda ), Luke Harper ( Jon Huber aka Brodie Lee ), and Erick Rowan. The stable first debuted in 2012 on WWE’s third and developmental brand , NXT. Therefore, the Bray Wyatt character would debut in Florida Championship Wrestling in 2012. Rotunda was known as Husky Harris on the game show version of NXT before this. However , in 2013 , the WWE Universe would witness the eerie trio come to Monday Night RAW. Thus, the anticipation for their debut would come through spooky vignettes with Rowan sporting a sheep mask and Wyatt explaining who they were and where they came from. They started to air on May 27. Nevertheless, the WWE Universe would have to wait until July to see the Wyatts debut.

On the July 8 , 2013 episode of Monday Night RAW , would be the night that change everything. The Wyatt Family would make their debut targeting Kane. Before they debuted , Kane had a match against Christian. After the match, he would be in the ring watching one of the vignettes. Soon, the lights would go out after Bray whispering his signature catchphrase, “ We’re here! ” . The lantern would soon be blown out and the trio would make their way to the ring .

Wyatt could be found sitting in a rocking chair as he watched Rowan and Harper attack the future WWE Hall of Famer. The Wyatts not only targeted Kane , they targeted Justin Gabriel , 3MB , and R-Truth all while telling him to ‘ Follow The Buzzards ’ . Kane decided to call out Bray and challenge him to a match at Summerslam. The stipulation of the match would be a Ring of Fire match. Wyatt would be declared the winner due to his stablemates getting involved. Thus , they would attack Kane for a second time and end the segment for their match by carrying him to the back.

Luke Harper would be signed to All Elite Wrestling in 2020 , going under the name , Mr. Brodie Lee. He would be the leader of the faction , The Dark Order. He would start out as being known as the ‘ Unseen Leader ’. Sadly , Lee would pass away on December 26, 2020 at the age of 41. Bray Wyatt would be released by WWE in 2020 and return in 2022. He would also pass away on August 28,2023 at the age of 36.

On June 17,2024 , the Wyatt Sicks would debut. Bo Dallas ( Taylor Rotunda ) , would revise his role as Uncle Howdy and form a new group , The Wyatt Sicks. Their debut would be similar to how Bray made his return. The members of this faction would be Uncle Howdy as the leader, Nikki Cross, Dexter Lumis , Joe Gacy , and Erick Rowan. Rowan is one of the founders of the original Wyatt Family. Thus, Dallas would take on the faction as his brother did before him.

My Final Thoughts:

I remember when The Wyatt Family debuted. I was a little freaked out by them , however , I got used to them. Bray Wyatt was a once in a lifetime wrestler and will always be. Luke Harper/Brodie Lee was one of those wrestlers who I enjoyed watching and will always be the greatest TNT Champion of all time . Again , I’m so proud of Taylor for carrying on his brother’s name and legacy. I’ll be doing a tribute article for Bray in a few weeks and one for Luke in December. Be on the lookout for those!

Love You All,

- Kay

[redflawedglass]

Just spent several hours disassembling a vintage mink stole I bought on Etsy a couple of years ago and has been kicking around my house since. It's becoming fur trim for a Norse cloak and (probably) a sideless surcoat.

This is the before:

I hadn't really looked that closely at it before, because I had mentally labeled it "materials", but today I discovered all kinds of cool details so I wanted to document it as I was taking it apart!

Purchased from Stewart's of Baltimore, a defunct department store. I really like the pleated detail. The owner(s) wore this a lot- you can see the wear on the collar. Satin is a warp facing fabric, so that top layer was rubbing off and the golden color is the weft, which shows in the flowers. I did a burn test on a little piece of the lining and it's silk, which makes sense given what it would have cost new. I don't know the exact amount, but someone on reddit with a very similar stole had an insurance document for it, and theirs was worth $1500 in 1969 when the policy was taken out. Nowadays these are worth a fraction of that- I paid $40. Even the good condition ones are only a couple hundred.

The original owner had the stole personalized with embroidery. I couldn't find a designer named Lillian Atkinson, so her being the purchaser seems more likely.

More wear at the lower edge where your elbows would rub against it. You can see the hand stitching if you look closely- the whole inside of this stole was finished by hand.

Big hole in the middle of the back. Part of why it was only $40. There was also a pretty big stain on the lining on one side, but I didn't take a picture of that.

Pockets! I only discovered them after I removed the lining, because they were so well hidden inside the seams. Reasonably sized too.

Inside is a layer of flannel that protects the lining from rubbing against the back of the fur.

What it looks like with the lining removed, and a pocket, which is the same silk as the lining. Lots of hand stitching and tacking visible here along the edge. This was beautifully made and I enjoyed learning how it was put together.

Raw inside of the fur with everything removed. Now it's ready to become trim! It's going to be a couple weeks before it's needed, since this is part of a group project, but I will take pictures of its 3rd life and post them then.