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divadepreshawn · 3 months ago

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𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓

Aaron Hotchner × fem!reader ×popstar

part three Reader's nickname can be everything that involves honey, if you have a suggestion to stay fixed I will be happy to receive :) WC: 1 606

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If Aaron said he didn’t Google your name when he got home, it would be a lie.

He didn’t just do a cursory search, he dove into your chaotic universe of interviews, albums, music videos, awards shows, and conspiracy theories—which he concluded people just need therapy for.

He’d heard some of your songs in passing before, some on the radio on his way to work, some in commercials when he watched TV with Jack, he just didn’t know it was, well, you.

There was good, great, excellent, and then… you.

Aaron can’t remember ever seeing anything that came close to you. You sang and danced without missing a beat, your stage presence, the way you moved, no one would guess you were performing to a packed stadium—were you really human?

He feels like a moth being drawn to a light, unable to resist. Absorbing each performance and interview like a sponge.

The clock was two in the morning, he wasn't sleepy. Aaron never cared about celebrities, at most he sympathized with some, he was never the type to research their lives on the internet or in magazines.

His world was made up of reports, investigations and horrendous crimes, always keeping the focus on what was real, on what needed to be solved. The idea of following the pop universe and celebrities in general seemed distant – even superfluous.

He liked movies, he could appreciate paintings, but music? It wasn't something he cared about, music was like background noise that fulfilled its purpose, filling the environment creating a pleasant atmosphere without standing out completely.

But watching your creative process in your documentary,– he wasn't joking, he almost called Garcia to get more information – he wished he could get inside your mind and see music the way you do. Renowned and new artists citing you as a reference.

It was fascinating.

You are fascinating.

He took the card with your number out of his pocket. And for a moment, he actually considered sending a message.

He knew that if he took this step, there would be no going back. The weight of real life was falling on his shoulders again, the pressure of his profession was like a bee buzzing in his ear, a reminder that things weren't so easy.

You on stage, in the spotlight, were an easy target.

The thought paralyzed him.

Someone like you should never get involved with someone like him.

It's better to live with the thought of what could have been than to live with the guilt of having brought danger into your life. He can deal with it, maybe in a few years he'll tell Jack that he met a famous singer.

He can deal with it.

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What he didn’t know was that you were extremely stubborn.

You waited patiently for a week for any sign. A text, a call – even a smoke signal would do, but you received nothing.

Great, if he wasn’t going to look for you then you would find a way to find him. All you had was your first name and a dream.

But you like a challenge.

Your first thought was to type his name into Google, but there are too many Aaron’s in the area, that wouldn’t work. You sighed, without a last name the search would be useless – Aaron was a very common name.

But you have something in your favor – influence.

“Hey, I need a favor.”

“This smells like trouble.” Chris – your security guard – stopped near the door, crossing his arms. “What is it?”

You smiled, this poor guy really deserved a raise.

“I met a guy and I wanted to find him, but all I have is his first name, Aaron.” You paused, trying to remember the details. “He was tall, had black hair, wore a nice suit, his posture was firm and he had a serious look, he probably has a position of authority, a lawyer perhaps?”

He looked at you as if he were seeing a unicorn, the crease between his eyebrows deepened as his mouth opened in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight, you want me to find someone you saw once in your life, and you don’t even know their damn last name?”

“Well, that’s basically it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know either.”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair in a clear sign of frustration.

“I should be immortalized as a saint.” He rolled his eyes and picked up his phone to make a call. You watched as he muttered something under his breath to someone on the other end, his expression hardened, he sighed and hung up right after.

“This will take a while but maybe we can get something done”

You smiled, he always found a way.

“Thanks, you’re awesome.”

“I know, next time maybe you can remember that when you decide to go out alone”

“I already apologized, it was stupid, I know”

“What did you want? If you intended to die, couldn’t you kill yourself like a normal artist? Drugs, alcoholism or something?”

You snorted in amusement.

“Shut up.”

He just rolled his eyes, returning to his attentive posture.

While Chris dealt with the impossible mission of finding Aaron, you focused on work, with the tour approaching there were many details to be worked on. You spent the entire afternoon making adjustments to the sequence of songs, the position of the dancers, the light show. The worst part of being a perfectionist was this: everything had to go through you.

At the end of the day, when you were finishing up with the team, your cell phone vibrated on the table. Picking up the phone, you answered quickly when you saw it was Chris.

“Peaceful house, who’s disturbing you?”

“Ha ha, funny girl, are you done? I’m waiting in the parking lot.”

“I’m going, did you get anything?” Holding your phone with your shoulder, you said goodbye to some people who were still in the warehouse before heading towards the parking lot.

“You’re going to sing at my wedding, for free.” He expected a protest, but you just nodded in agreement, so he continued. “Your mystery man’s name is Aaron Hotchner, he’s been the leader of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for the past 5 years. He used to be a lawyer – congratulations, you guessed right, maybe you should ask him for a job. I’ll send you his office number.”

You walked into the house in silence, absorbing the new information. Now you had a full name and a profession.

Aaron Hotchner, FBI agent.

You chuckled to yourself, you had just stalked an FBI agent – that didn’t get you arrested, did it? The idea of looking for him again – this time in a more direct way – seemed like a crime you were willing to pay for.

But how? You couldn’t just show up at his work – that would be too weird. It was time to plan calmly, you didn’t want to scare him.

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Aaron Hotchner was a man of routine.

He liked predictability when he had the chance to experience it, which was why he tried to keep his mornings calm; any unexpected element was viewed with suspicion.

So when he walked into his office that morning and found a huge bouquet of flowers on his desk, he stopped. His brow furrowed automatically, studying the bouquet as if it were a crime scene.

Flowers. For him.

He began to run through all the holidays quickly in his head; it wasn't his birthday or Father's Day. What was this?

Silently, he closed the door and approached the desk, finally noticing the card carefully placed among the flowers. He picked up the card and opened it calmly – almost as if he were defusing a bomb.

“Aaron

I appreciate the way you tried to inspire me artistically by not texting me and breaking my heart – it was innovative, to say the least. I would almost say poetic – but sad songs are not my thing, I prefer romantic ones.

Before you think it's weird that I know where you work, let me clarify two things:

First, I'm not dangerous – unless you consider smash as a threat.

Second, this is your fault.

If you had texted me like a normal person would, I wouldn't have to do this.

I'm joking (or not).

Anyway, when you receive these flowers, take it as a thank you for saving my skin that day.

Note: I loved your last name, did you know that you can't spell Hotchner without Hot?

With love, Q Honey.”

He finished reading and couldn't help but smile, you're definitely crazy, he thought. He didn't know exactly what he expected when he opened the card, but it certainly wasn't this.

Before he could decide what to do with the flowers, the door opened without warning.

“Hotch, could you reconsider a new chair, the leg of mine is wobbly and I almost fell again today. Just letting you know that what kills old people is a fall-” Rossi stopped talking as soon as he saw the flowers on the table.

“Is there something you want to share?” he asked, his tone full of amusement. “Wait, is that a card in your hand? Did you get that?”

He could have ignored it and gone back to work until he had a good enough excuse, but the shock prevented him from thinking straight, how the hell did you find out his name?

“I..um, I guess so..?” His voice came out more like a question than a statement.

“Who’s the secret admirer?”

“Someone with a lot of determination.”

Rossi laughed, clearly interested in his friend’s reaction.

“That’s one of mine, whoever it is I think you should give her a chance since she’s so determined.”

Yeah, maybe he should.

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English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes

If you have any ideas to contribute to the sequel, I'll be happy to hear them :)

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@midnghtprentiss, @jazzimac1967

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch x reader #spotify #readerpop!star #reader!diva #Spotify #criminal minds x reader #david rossi #alien superstar #reader!popstar

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smolkooks · 11 months ago

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incoming call... - kenji sato.

a/n: 2k words of one of my late night thoughts turned into a fluffy, exes to lovers fic. exes au, vet!y/n x kenji sato from ultraman: rising.

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“kenji?”

“y/n?”

you hadn’t expected to run into him here, and it seemed that he hadn’t either, from the way he was dressed. contrary to how you usually saw him on t.v. during his interviews, he was in shambles. kenji sato was dressed in a sweatset, stained with what smelled like...fish juice?...down the front. his eyes were dim, yet panicked—perhaps at seeing you, but you weren’t sure. was his hair...wet? what the fuck?

it had been more than eight years since you’d last seen him—at highschool graduation, when you’d moved to sydney for university, and he’d disappeared to the states. not that kenji sato could disappear, with how often you saw him on your t.v. screen.

“what...what are you doing here?” he stuttered, furrowing his annoyingly perfect brows. he looked exactly as you remembered, save for his current, unorganised state. just...older. better.

“well, i just got off work,” you said equally as awkwardly, gesturing at your scrubs, “um...just, heading home now.”

truth be told, this was an insanely random place to have run into him. ten minutes from your apartment block, with no shopping districts around or really any reason for him to be here at all. all that there was in your district was a river, which was nearby—so close you could still hear it from here.

“you walk?” he said incredulously, eyes fixated on your badge—dr. y/n, head veterinarian.

“uh, yeah,” you said, shifting a bit under his sharp gaze as his dark eyes shifted to meet yours. the same way he’d looked at you, all those years ago, that day. sad, but hopeful.

ken, we should...i mean, i think we should break up.

the words were as clear in your memory as day, and you forced yourself to swallow and block out those intruding thoughts.

“let me drive you,” he said quietly, after a beat, and as you opened your mouth to protest that you only lived ten minutes away, he said, “please.”

“kenji, you look really tired,” you said hesitantly, “you should head home and rest.”

“trust me,” he said with a sigh, “there’s no rest to be found in my home right now.”

you wondered what that meant. but he didn’t give you any time before he abruptly gestured down the street and wordlessly began walking you towards his car.

if you’d asked yourself twenty minutes ago, you wouldn’t have believed that you would be sitting in your highschool boyfriend’s 300-thousand-dollar porsche. and yet, here you were, buckled into the passenger seat, feeling more awkward than ever as you typed your address into his phone.

“i thought you were in sydney, to be honest,” he said, finally breaking the silence as he started the car, sweeping his hair back with his other hand.

“i moved back a year ago,” you explained as you propped his phone up on the stand he had for it, pressing start on the google maps directions, “worked in sydney for three years after grad, then got a job offer to be promoted to head vet back here in japan. couldn’t pass it up. besides, my mum’s here and i wanted to be with her.”

“you don’t live with her, though?” he said. of course, he’d noticed that your address had changed. he had spent more hours at your house than he’d probably spent at school in all six years of secondary school combined.

“yeah, i wanted my own place,” you said with a soft laugh, “i’ve got a few pets. they would drive her mad, with how loud they are.”

kenji huffed, “kids can be so damn loud.”

that caught you off guard, and you turned to him, shocked, and if not a little embarrassed. of course, kenji already had kids! he was a young, extremely wealthy man who of course would’ve married by now. you’d done well for yourself, but you knew you couldn’t compare to kenji sato.

“kids?” you couldn’t help yourself, the sharp question slipping out before you could process and revealing your surprise.

“uh—it’s complicated,” he said quickly, “wait, that sounds wrong—not that it’s complicated, just—well, she’s not really my kid—,”

“so you’re a stepdad,” you asked, confused.

“not really,” he replied, one hand running through his hair again, messing it up more, “she’s my pet, i guess. pet...lizard.”

your eyes lit up, “oh my god, i love lizards. i wish i could have one, too—maybe a gecko? but i have too many cats right now.”

“i wish i had a cat, instead,” kenji rolled his eyes, “she’s so whiney.” but there was affection tucked in his voice, and you picked up on it even without having to see his half-smile in the mirror.

“i’ll have to visit, then, to see your lizard.”

“and you, your cats,” he shot back as he parked by the curb, “you weren’t lying when you said you lived close by.”

you laughed, “why would i lie?”

he shrugged in response.

“get back safe,” you said, as you stepped out and reached to shut the door, “thank you for the ride. it was really nice to catch up.”

“yeah—well, you too,” he said, biting his lip as he seemed like he wanted to ask something else—you knew that look on his face better than anyone.

“what? spit it out,” you said jokingly, narrowing your eyes.

“oh...” he chuckled nervously, “um, can i have your number? yknow, your new one.”

you were caught off guard by him, yet again. “sure. it’s the same as it was. has yours changed?”

“yeah, actually...gotta change mine a lot, these days,” he looked really embarrassed by that, “what with the baseball stuff. i’ll call you. we need to catch up properly.”

i missed you. his eyes seemed to say, and something in your stomach fluttered at his earnest expression.

“we do,” you replied, before shutting the door, “see you, kenji.”

he waited until you’d headed upstairs before he drove off.

***

incoming call...unknown caller id.

“what the...?” you rubbed your eyes as your vibrating phone woke you up from your afternoon nap. you’d taken a fond liking to naps these days, after taking on so many emergency late night shifts at the clinic.

groggily, you picked up the phone and immediately was met with the sound of heavy breathing, which creeped you out, truth be told, and just as you were reaching to hang up on the creep, a familiar voice rasped out, “y/n, help me.”

“what the fuck? kenji?” you shot upright, panicked at his desperate tone, “what’s wrong?”

“are you free, right...now?”

“uh, well—i guess? i just got back from work, so...”

“sorry,” he said quickly, “to bother you. i’m just having trouble with my...lizard...and i didn’t know who else to ask. i can pay you—as much as you want—or—,”

“no, kenji, it’s fine,” you cut him off smoothly, “don’t be ridiculous. where are you? i did say i wanted to meet your lizard, anyway.”

***

you should’ve expected that kenji sato would live in a district as boujee as this. the buildings seemed to rise higher than your eyes could see, going all the way up into the clouds that shrouded the twilight sky. the cars here were all black and silver, with tinted, dark windows. it felt like a different world to your neighbourhood, and yours was already the nicer of the bunch.

“kenji, i think i’m here, but i don’t know how to get up,” you said into your phone, confused by all the security mechanisms and fancy technology that surrounded the large glass door before you. plus, your hands were pretty occupied—your phone squished between your cheek and shoulder, one hand holding your first aid kit—reptile-specialised—and the other your coat and bag of other equipment that you felt like you might need, if his lizard was in such bad condition that he’d called you up out of nowhere.

“give me a sec, i’m coming.”

as promised, the very man appeared moments later, looking just slightly more put together than the last time you’d seen him. at least this time, his hair was dry.

“thanks for coming,” he said hastily as he let you in, leading you to the set of elevators that awaited you, “i...i didn’t know who else to call. i really don’t know that many people here i’d want to talk to, and i’ve been really lonely lately, it’s kinda...sorry, i’m ranting, but i’m going through it and...anyway, i’m glad to see you.”

you found his ranting kind of endearing. you knew it was something he only did when he was really nervous—just like he’d always done, even when you two were just kids—and it made you feel young again, talking to him. like you were talking to your very first crush.

well, you supposed in a way, you were.

in the elevator, he was largely silent, although you could sense his stress—as if he had something to tell you but was too scared, his leg bouncing and fidgeting nonstop with the bottom of his shirt.

finally, as he went to swing open his apartment door opened, he blurted out, “don’t freak out.”

when you looked inside, you understood why.

and it was too late, because you were already freaking out. you dropped all your supplies in your shock, eyes widening and feet stumbling backwards.

“kenji, what—what is that—,”

there was a gigantic lizard before you. a gigantic one, and when you said gigantic, you meant it. it was at least...ten times bigger than you, and you’d never seen anything like that, before.

“um...emi...she’s a kaiju,” he said sheepishly, wringing his hands.

“what the—,”

“a baby!” he said quickly, “and i raised her, so she’s just a little cutie. but...you know, she’s growing up and i think she’s going through puberty or something. i don’t know! she’s just really struggling emotionally these days and i can’t figure it out. i’m her dad and i can’t figure it out and i’m not home often enough to look after her twenty-four-seven. please give me a chance. i’ll pay you—i’ll do whatever.”

“uh, kenji,” you said cautiously, leaning down to pick your stuff up, “you know that i know nothing about kaiju, right?” he leant down beside you to help you, cheeks tinted pink.

“it’s okay, can you try?”

“i can try, i guess,” you said dubiously, but you had to admit that you were at least curious. you’d never been this close to a kaiju before, and if anything, they were still animals of some sort. you wanted to see. you wanted to learn.

you didn’t really hear kenji’s blurted out thanks as you carefully crept closer to the sleeping pink creature, knocked out completely, curled up on her side. pulling out a stethoscope, you started to gently listen to her heartbeat from her wrist—the closest part of her you felt safe enough to touch, and she stirred, but didn’t wake.

it sounded normal—you guessed. for a creature as big as her, you supposed her heart rate would be really slow. especially when sleeping.

you did all your checks without her really waking, and that was ideal—you’d prefer she didn’t. as much as kenji reassured you that she was harmless, you were dubious that a creature this big wouldn’t hurt you.

“kenji,” you said, after you were done, unpacking some of your medications, “she’s growing up. she’s hitting prepubescence, you’re right. but also, she’s sick.”

“w-what do you mean? she’s—,”

“she has a cold,” you explained, and his panic deflated slightly as you gave him the largest bottle you had in your supplies, “you can give these to her. this’ll only last her today, so you’ll have to buy a shit ton of this medication, but i’ll give you a prescription and the phone of my supplier so you can get it fast. she should be okay in a week or so. but then again, she’s a kaiju, so it may take longer, depending.”

when you looked up, kenji was looking at you deeply, so earnestly and so gratefully, the bottle of pills set on the kitchen bench beside the two of you. you were closer to him than you’d been for years—even closer than that day on the car. suddenly, you were hyper aware of the way you swallowed as you met his gaze, your heart rate quickening.

“thank you, y/n,” he said quietly, “i...” he didn’t come closer, but he glanced down at his own hands before looking back up, “i really missed you, you know.”

“i missed you too, kenji,” you breathed, in disbelief a bit at the way you felt—just like you used to feel whenever he looked at you. you hoped he couldn’t hear how quick and heavily your heart was pounding ink your chest.

he broke out into a warm smile, “i’m really glad i ran into you, that night.”

***

incoming call...kenji sato.

you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face as you reached for your buzzing phone.

“hello?”

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mrs-delaney · 2 days ago

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Hide | Chapter Fifteen | I Love You

✿ read the full hide story here ✿

pairing: joe burrow x riley carter (oc) word count: 9.2k-ish requested: nope

content note: this chapter includes references to a serious football injury and the emotional impact of recovery. while nothing graphic is described, the injury and its aftermath are discussed in detail. take care while reading. 🤍

📝 this story is only posted on wattpad and tumblr under miss_delaney. if you see it anywhere else, it’s been stolen. 🚫 do not repost, translate, or share my work without permission. 🌻 requests: closed! 💌 want to be added to the taglist? drop a comment or message me.

author’s note: surprise! 🎉 i literally did zero real work this week and just wrote this instead. priorities. hope y’all love it as much as my google doc did. let’s talk about it!! 💬🫶

Taglist: @wickedfun9 @starsyoongi @amiets2 @palmettogal508 @throwaway12356123 @lilfreakjez @destinyg237

Riley sees Robin Burrow near baggage claim and just knows. She looks exactly like the pictures on Joe's phone—tired but alert, scanning faces until she finds Riley's.

Riley's still in her leather jacket from the show, dragging her carry-on behind her. She's not tired yet—too wired from everything that's happened in the last four hours.

"Riley?" Robin approaches first, and there's immediate warmth in her voice despite the circumstances.

"Mrs. Burrow." Riley feels suddenly awkward, like she should hug this woman she's never met but who drove here in the middle of the night for her. "Thank you so much for coming. I can't believe you—"

"Don't mention it," Robin says, pulling her into a quick hug. "Call me Robin. Jimmy's outside with the car."

"How is he?" Riley's voice catches slightly. "Have you heard anything since—"

"He texted around midnight," Robin says. "They're flying back to Cincinnati. Should be home around seven in the morning."

Riley nods, relief flooding through her that he's okay enough to text.

"Excuse me?"

They all turn. A girl who can't be more than nineteen is standing a few feet away, phone in hand, looking nervous but excited.

"Are you Riley Carter? From The Rambles?"

Riley's heart sinks. She can see Jimmy outside through the glass doors, standing by the car with the engine running, clearly ready for a quick exit.

"Yeah, that's me."

"Oh my god, I love your music so much! Could I maybe get a quick picture? I'm so sorry, I know it's late and weird, but I'm a huge fan—"

"I'm so sorry, honey," Robin steps in before Riley can respond, "but Riley's had a long night and I need to get her home. Maybe another time?"

The girl's face falls slightly. "Oh! Of course, I'm sorry! I hope everything's okay with your family emergency!"

Riley's stomach drops. Right. Her "family emergency."

"Thanks," she manages as Robin guides her toward the exit where Jimmy is waiting.

"Thank you so much," Riley says quietly as they walk quickly toward the car.

"No sense making it easier for them," Robin replies. "They'll have enough to work with already."

Jimmy opens the door for them, and Robin slides into the passenger seat while Riley gets in the back.

Jimmy pulls away from the curb, and Riley slumps against the backseat, relief washing over her that Robin stepped in. She's in Cincinnati. Joe's hurt. And by tomorrow, everyone will know she's here—but at least that fan interaction won't be part of the story.

* * *

The car is quiet for the first few minutes, just the sound of the highway and the radio playing softly. Riley stares out the window at the empty Cincinnati streets, still trying to process that she's actually here.

"Long night?" Robin asks, turning slightly in the passenger seat.

"Yeah." Riley's voice is hoarse. "I was on Colbert, to perform, and then I saw..." She stops, swallows hard. "I just did the song and left. Didn't even do the interview."

"You just left?" There's something in Robin's voice—not judgment, but understanding that this was a big deal.

"Yeah. I don't know anyone's number and obviously he wasn't going to be able to answer his phone and Sarah wasn't answering so I didn't know what to do." Riley runs her hands through her hair. "I've never been through anything like this before. I didn't know how bad a wrist injury was or what it meant and I just couldn't sit there and talk about my tour like nothing happened. I had to get here."

Jimmy glances at her in the rearview mirror. "That's a big thing to walk away from."

Riley shrugs, but her voice gets quieter. "I had to be here."

Robin turns to look at her fully now, and Riley can tell she knows it's not just TV. It's career stuff, tour promotion, everything she's supposed to be doing right now.

"Your people were okay with you leaving?," Robin asks.

"My guys are the best. They've had my back since we were kids." Riley shifts in her seat, pulling her jacket tighter. "I just kept watching the replay, you know? The way he went down. I've never seen him get hurt before."

"It's hard to watch," Robin says quietly.

"I didn't know what to think. Is a wrist injury bad? Like, really bad? I know nothing about football injuries." Riley's voice gets smaller. "I just saw him holding his arm and knew something was wrong."

"Wrist injuries can be tricky," Robin says carefully. "But for a quarterback..." Jimmy catches her eye in the rearview mirror. "You did the right thing coming here."

"I hope so," Riley says quietly. "Sometimes I feel like I just make things more complicated for him."

"He's been happier," Jimmy says simply, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "We can tell."

Riley feels something warm in her chest. "He makes me happy too. Even when he's being stubborn."

Robin glances at Jimmy. "That's our boy. Wonder where he gets the stubborn from."

Jimmy just shakes his head, smiling slightly.

The car gets quiet again, but it's a comfortable quiet now. Riley lets her eyes drift closed, feeling the exhaustion starting to creep in now that the adrenaline is wearing off.

"Almost there," Jimmy says as they turn into Joe's neighborhood, and Riley recognizes the familiar streets even in the dark.

* * *

Riley unlocks the front door with her own key, stepping aside to let Robin and Jimmy in first. The house is dark and quiet, exactly as Joe left it before flying to Baltimore.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Riley says, flipping on the living room lights. "Let me get changed real quick and wash off this stage makeup, then I'll make y'all some coffee and a snack if you're hungry."

She's already heading toward the stairs, moving through Joe's space with the easy familiarity of someone who belongs here.

"Take your time, honey," Robin calls after her.

Left alone in the living room, Robin and Jimmy look around, noticing changes since their last visit. There are subtle signs of Riley's presence—a guitar case leaning against the wall, a small keyboard setup in the corner near the window. Everything still neat and organized the way Joe likes it, but with touches that show Riley's presence is more than just visiting.

"She has a key," Jimmy observes quietly.

"And her own clothes here," Robin adds, noting the casual way Riley mentioned getting changed.

Upstairs, Riley moves quickly through Joe's bedroom to the dresser where she keeps a drawer of her own things. She pulls out soft joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, then heads to the bathroom to scrub off the layers of TV makeup. When she looks in the mirror afterward—face clean, hair loose, no stage persona left—she takes her first real breath since seeing Joe get hurt.

When she comes back downstairs ten minutes later, she looks completely different. Gone is the polished performer from the airport; in her place is just Riley—makeup-free, comfortable, real.

"Now I feel like myself again," she says to Robin and Jimmy, padding into the kitchen in bare feet. "Much better. Coffee time."

She moves around the kitchen with easy confidence, pulling mugs from the cabinet, finding the expensive coffee beans Joe splurges on, starting the machine.

"You don't have to wait on us," Robin says from the doorway.

"I want to," Riley says simply, already pulling things from the refrigerator. "Besides, I need to keep my hands busy or I'll go crazy thinking about him."

She finds cream and pulls out one of Joe's breakfast meal prep containers, checking the date. "Y'all hungry? I could heat this up, or Joe's got those protein bars he's obsessed with." She pauses, looking at them. "Actually, do you even like coffee this late? Or early, I guess."

"Coffee's perfect," Jimmy says, settling at the kitchen island. "Been a long night."

Riley nods, measuring out coffee beans. "I'm glad you're here. I didn't want to be alone, you know?"

"We wanted to meet you anyway," Robin says, taking the stool next to Jimmy. "This just moved up the timeline."

The coffee machine starts its familiar hum, and Riley leans against the counter, finally still for a moment. "I'm sorry it's under these circumstances. I had this whole thing planned out in my head about meeting you guys properly, maybe at a game or something normal."

"Nothing normal about our lives anymore," Jimmy says with a small smile. "Hasn't been since Joe got drafted."

"Yeah, I'm learning that." Riley opens a cabinet, pulling out a box of crackers, then grabs some cheese from the fridge. "Like tonight at the airport—I'm usually good about photos and stuff, but you were smart to step in. That would've been everywhere by morning. Hell, me at the airport is probably everywhere by now."

She starts arranging the snacks on a plate, her movements quick and efficient. Robin watches her, noting how different Riley seems from what she expected—not putting on any kind of performance, just being herself.

"How do you handle it?" Robin asks. "The attention?"

Riley shrugs, pouring coffee into three mugs. "I've been doing this since I was sixteen, so it's all I really know. I figured out pretty early that if I fight it, I can't have anything normal. So I try to embrace it, you know? Be good to fans, be myself." She hands them each a mug. "Cream? Sugar?"

"Black's fine," Jimmy says.

"Little cream," Robin requests.

Riley doctors Robin's coffee and slides it across the counter. "Joe's better at the whole image thing than I am. More careful. Smarter about it, probably."

"You think he's too careful?" Robin asks, something curious in her voice.

Riley pauses, considering. "Sometimes. Like, I get why he has to be. His whole career depends on people seeing him a certain way. But sometimes I think he's protecting himself from problems that don't really exist."

Robin nods. "He's always been like that. Even as a kid, he'd worry about things that never happened."

She takes a sip of her coffee and winces. "God, that's strong. Sorry, I'm not great at coffee when I'm tired."

"It's perfect," Jimmy assures her.

"So tell us about this tour," Robin says. "Joe mentioned it starts soon?"

Riley's face lights up despite her exhaustion. "Three weeks. It's going to be over a year, all arenas. We start in Philadelphia and basically don't stop until next December." She laughs. "We've played these venues before, but never a tour this long or a set this extensive. Some of these places hold like fifty, sixty thousand people."

"That's incredible," Robin says. "You nervous?"

"Completely. But good nervous, I think? Like, we've been working toward this for years." Riley pulls her legs up onto the barstool, getting comfortable. "My band keeps telling me to enjoy it, that this is what we've worked for, but I keep waiting for someone to realize they made a mistake."

"What kind of mistake?" Robin asks.

Riley laughs. "Like, I know logically that we've earned this, but there's still this part of me that's like, 'Really? They're letting the girl from New Orleans who skipped half her senior year to tour do a ten-night residency at Madison Square Garden?'"

"Ten nights?" Jimmy asks, impressed.

"Sold out already," Riley says, still sounding amazed by it. "Pete—my bass player—he cried when we found out. Like, actually cried."

"How long have you guys been together? The band, I mean," Robin asks.

"Since high school. Pete and I met freshman year, then we found Andy and Daniel." Riley's voice gets softer, more fond. "They're like my brothers. Especially going through all this crazy stuff, they keep me grounded."

"That's what Joe says about his teammates," Jimmy observes. "That core group from LSU."

"Yeah, Ja'Marr and those guys. They seem good for him." Riley fidgets with her mug. "Actually, can I ask you something? How does he handle... being hurt? Like, emotionally. I've never seen him unable to play before."

Robin and Jimmy exchange a look.

"He doesn't handle it well," Robin says honestly. "Even as a kid, if he couldn't practice or play, he'd get this restless energy. Angry, but not at anyone in particular."

"He'll want to do something," Jimmy adds. "Work out, watch film, anything to feel useful. Sitting still isn't in his vocabulary."

Riley nods slowly. "That's what I was worried about. This whole season he's been so focused, and with his shin bothering him, I could tell he was already frustrated. Now this..."

"You've been worried about him," Robin says, not a question.

"Yeah. He doesn't like to admit when things are bothering him, but I can tell. And tonight, watching him go down..." Riley's voice wavers slightly. "I've never been so scared in my life. I know that probably sounds dramatic, but—"

"It doesn't sound dramatic," Robin interrupts gently. "It sounds like you love him."

Riley looks down at her coffee, nodding. "I do. A lot. Even when he's being stubborn or shutting me out when things get hard."

"He does that," Jimmy confirms. "Always has. Gets in his own head."

"The thing is," Riley continues, "I want to be there for him through this, but I also have to leave for tour prep in two weeks. And I hate that. I hate that when he needs support, I'll be gone for over a year."

"He knows your tour is important," Robin says.

"Yeah, but is it more important than being here when he's going through the worst thing that could happen to his career?" Riley shakes her head. "I keep thinking about canceling dates, or postponing, but that affects so many people. The band, the crew, the fans who bought tickets..."

"You can't put your life on hold," Jimmy says firmly. "Joe wouldn't want that."

"I know. Logically, I know that. But it doesn't make me feel less guilty about it."

Riley gets up to refill her coffee, moving around the kitchen like she's done it a thousand times. Robin notices how she automatically rinses her mug first, puts the cream back exactly where Joe would want it.

"How do you guys make it work?" Robin asks. "The distance, the different schedules."

Riley leans against the counter again. "Honestly? Some days better than others. We text constantly, FaceTime when we can. But it's hard when he's in season and I'm doing all this press stuff. We're both traveling all the time, different time zones."

She pauses, considering. "But then he'll do something like send flowers to whatever city I'm in, or have food delivered when I'm working late. And I'll send him some stupid song I wrote about him at 2 AM, and it reminds me why it's worth it."

"Long distance is tough," Jimmy says. "Especially with careers like yours."

"Yeah, but I'd rather have him in my life complicated than not have him at all," Riley says simply. "Even when he's being impossible."

Robin smiles at that. "Sounds like you know what you're getting into."

"Most days." Riley checks the time on her phone. "God, it's almost five. I should probably text my team, let them know I made it here okay."

She pulls out her phone and settles back onto the barstool, typing quickly. Robin and Jimmy watch her, both thinking the same thing—that despite her fame, despite the chaos of her life, Riley feels remarkably normal. Real.

"Pete's probably freaking out," Riley mutters, scrolling through messages. "He and Joe have gotten close, so he'll be worried about both of us."

"That's sweet," Robin says.

Riley looks up, smiling slightly. "Yeah, it is. Pete's protective like that, but he really likes Joe. They bonded early on."

Riley yawns, the exhaustion finally starting to catch up with her. "I should probably update everyone properly. Let them know I'm here safe and Joe's okay."

"Go ahead, honey," Robin says. "We'll clean up the kitchen."

"You don't have to—" Riley starts, but Robin waves her off.

"Go sit. You've been taking care of us all night."

Riley moves to the living room, settling into the corner of Joe's couch with her phone. She can hear Robin and Jimmy quietly cleaning up in the kitchen, the soft sounds of dishes being washed and coffee mugs being put away.

"Pete's sent like fifteen messages," Riley says to herself, scrolling through her phone. She starts typing: Made it to Cincinnati. Joe's parents picked me up (they're amazing). He should be home around 7. Will update when I know more about—

Her eyes drift closed mid-sentence, the phone slipping slightly in her hands. The combination of performing, the emotional shock of seeing Joe get hurt, the red-eye flight, and hours of nervous energy finally catching up with her all at once.

When Robin comes back from the kitchen a few minutes later, she finds Riley fast asleep, her head tilted against the back of the couch, phone still clutched loosely in her fingers. She looks younger somehow, all the worry lines smoothed away in sleep.

Robin takes the phone from Riley's hands and sets it on the coffee table. She finds a soft throw blanket draped over the back of another chair—one she recognizes as something Riley probably brought from New Orleans—and gently covers her with it.

"Poor thing," Robin whispers to Jimmy as he joins her. "She's exhausted."

Jimmy nods, looking at Riley with something like fondness. "Been a hell of a night for her."

* * *

Robin and Jimmy move back to the kitchen, keeping their voices low.

"Well," Robin says, "that went better than I thought it would."

Jimmy dries his hands on a dish towel. "She's not what I pictured."

"No?" Robin starts putting the leftover crackers back in their container. "What did you picture?"

"I don't know. More..." He gestures vaguely. "Rock star-ish."

Robin laughs quietly. "She made us coffee and cleaned Joe's kitchen at four in the morning. Real rock star behavior there."

"You know what I mean."

"I do." Robin glances toward the living room. "She's just normal. Well, normal for someone dating our son."

Jimmy sits down at the kitchen island. "She's got her own key."

"Mm-hmm. And her own drawer upstairs. That little keyboard setup in the corner." Robin joins him at the counter. "This isn't new."

"No, it's not." Jimmy's quiet for a moment. "You think Joe's serious about her?"

"Jimmy, she flew here from New York at three in the morning because he got hurt. I'd say they're both pretty serious."

"Fair point."

Robin fidgets with her coffee mug. "She reminds me of you, actually."

"How's that?"

"The way she just does what needs doing. No fuss about it." Robin looks at him. "You would've done the same thing. If I'd gotten hurt when we were young and you were across the country, you would've been on the first plane."

Jimmy considers this. "Probably would've driven."

"Because you hate flying, but yes." Robin smiles. "She didn't even think about it. Just came."

"She's going to be gone for over a year though. Starting in three weeks."

"I know." Robin's smile fades. "Terrible timing."

"Think they'll make it?"

Robin looks toward the living room where Riley's sleeping. "You see how she fits here? Like she's always been here?"

"Yeah."

"And you heard her talking about him. She sees right through him." Robin drums her fingers on the counter. "Remember when she said he protects himself from problems that don't exist?"

"That's Joe exactly."

"Exactly. She calls him on his bullshit." Robin pauses. "Olivia never really saw through that."

Jimmy raises an eyebrow. "We loved Olivia."

"Of course we did. She was family for six years. But she always took Joe at face value. If he said everything was fine, she believed him. Riley seems to see what's underneath."

"Think that's good?"

"I think Joe needs someone who won't let him hide in his own head all the time." Robin gets up to check on Riley, then comes back. "She's completely out."

"Poor kid's exhausted."

"She performed on national television six hours ago. Then saw Joe get hurt and got on a plane." Robin shakes her head. "I can't imagine."

"She handled it though. All of it."

"She did." Robin looks thoughtful. "You know what got me? When she was making coffee, asking if we were hungry. She was taking care of us."

"While she was the one who'd had the traumatic night."

"Right. That tells you something about who she is."

Jimmy nods. "Joe needs that. Someone who takes care of people."

"He's always been the one taking care of everyone else. Making sure his teammates are okay, making sure we don't worry about him." Robin pauses. "Maybe it's good for him to have someone who takes care of him back."

"Think she'll be able to handle all the attention? The pressure?"

"She's been famous since she was sixteen, Jimmy. She knows what she signed up for." Robin glances at the clock. "Besides, you saw how she was tonight. She doesn't seem to care much about what other people think."

"That could be good or bad."

"With Joe? Probably good. He cares too much about what people think sometimes."

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment, both processing the night.

"We should probably try to get some sleep," Jimmy says. "Joe'll be home in an hour."

"Are you tired?"

"Not really."

"Me neither." Robin smiles. "Too much coffee. And too much excitement."

"Think we should wake her when he gets here?"

"Let's see how it goes. She needs the sleep." Robin pauses. "But I want to see them together. See how they are with each other when he gets home."

"That'll be something."

"Mm." Robin looks toward the living room again. "She really loves him, doesn't she?"

"Yeah," Jimmy says simply. "She really does."

"Good." Robin gets up to check the locks on the front door, a habit from years of motherhood. "Joe deserves that. Someone who loves him enough to drop everything when he needs them."

"Think we should head to the guest room after he gets here? Give them some space?"

"Probably. But not right away. I want to make sure he's okay first." Robin comes back to the kitchen. "And I want to see them together. See how they are with each other."

"Nosy."

"Protective. There's a difference."

Jimmy smiles. "If you say so." He pauses, thinking. "I really do think she's good for him. Different from what he's used to, but good different."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Joe's always been so controlled, so careful about everything. Maybe he needs someone who's a little more..." He searches for the word.

"Spontaneous?"

"Spontaneous. Willing to take risks." Jimmy looks toward the living room. "Flying here tonight was a risk. Could've been bad publicity, could've looked crazy to people. But she did it anyway because it was the right thing to do."

Robin nods. "That's what I think too. She follows her heart."

"Think Joe's learning to do that?"

"I hope so." Robin stands up, restless. "He's been so focused on his career, on doing everything right, sometimes I wonder if he forgets to just live a little."

"Riley doesn't seem like she'd let him forget that."

"No," Robin agrees, smiling. "No, she doesn't."

* * *

Joe uses his key quietly, expecting the house to be silent at seven in the morning. He's exhausted—the flight from Baltimore, the worst night of his career, his right wrist throbbing despite the pain medication. He just wants to get upstairs, maybe check on Riley if she's awake, and crash for a few hours before dealing with doctors and phone calls and the reality of his season being over.

But there's light coming from the kitchen, and he can hear low voices.

"Mom?" he calls softly, dropping his bag by the door.

"In here, honey."

Joe finds Robin and Jimmy at the kitchen island with coffee, looking like they've been up for hours.

"You didn't sleep?" Joe asks, accepting the hug Robin immediately pulls him into. She's careful of his right arm, which is wrapped and resting in a sling.

"A little. We wanted to be awake when you got home." Robin pulls back to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine." Joe's automatic response, even though his wrist is killing him and his whole world just shifted. "How's Riley? Is she okay?"

"She's perfect," Robin says immediately. "Sound asleep on your couch."

"She was exhausted," Jimmy adds. "Been up since... well, since she saw you get hurt."

Joe nods, thinking about everything Riley gave up to be here. "How did she seem tonight?"

"Worried about you," Robin says gently. "But she handled everything beautifully. Made us coffee, took care of us, made sure we were comfortable."

"Even though she was the one who'd had the traumatic night," Jimmy observes.

Joe's not surprised by this—it's exactly what Riley would do. "She left Colbert for this."

"We know. She told us." Robin touches his good arm. "That's not a small thing, Joe."

"No, it's not." Joe looks toward the living room, where he can just make out Riley's form on the couch. "Did she say anything about... us? About how things have been?"

Robin and Jimmy exchange a look.

"She said you've been frustrated lately," Robin says carefully. "With your shin bothering you. But mostly she just seemed scared about you being hurt."

"She loves you," Jimmy says simply. "That was pretty clear."

Joe feels something ease in his chest that's been tight for weeks. "Yeah. I love her too."

"We can tell." Robin smiles. "She fits here, honey. In your space, in your life. It feels natural."

"She's got her own key," Jimmy points out with a small smile. "Her own space upstairs."

"I know." Joe's quiet for a moment. "It's been good. Really good."

"We really like her," Robin says. "She's genuine. Real. Not what I expected from someone famous, honestly."

"She's been famous since she was sixteen. It's all she knows, but she's never let it change who she is." Joe looks toward the living room again. "Is she really okay? She looked so worried on TV."

"She was worried. But she's tough." Robin stands up. "Why don't you go see her? We're going to head to the guest room, give you two some privacy."

Joe nods gratefully. "Thank you. For picking her up, for staying with her. I didn't want her to be alone."

"Of course," Jimmy says, standing as well. "She's family now."

The casual way he says it surprises Joe. Family. Yeah, she is.

"How's the wrist for real?" Robin asks, mother's intuition cutting through his careful composure.

"Bad," Joe admits quietly. "Season's over. Surgery next week."

Robin's face falls. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

"It'll be fine. I'll be fine." Joe's voice is steady, controlled. "Just need to focus on recovery now."

Jimmy squeezes his shoulder. "You've got time to figure it out. And you've got people who care about you."

Joe nods, looking toward the living room where Riley's sleeping. "Yeah. I do."

Robin and Jimmy head toward the guest room, leaving Joe standing in his kitchen at seven in the morning, finally alone with the reality of what's happened. His season's over. His wrist might never be the same. And the woman he loves dropped everything to be here for him.

He walks quietly toward the living room, still in the sweats he threw on at the hotel in Baltimore, and stops when he sees her.

Riley's curled up in the corner of his couch, covered with the throw blanket from New Orleans that she brought months ago. Her hair's messy from sleep, her face soft and peaceful in the early morning light filtering through the windows. She looks younger like this, all the worry lines from the night smoothed away.

Joe sits down carefully on the edge of the couch beside her, being gentle so he doesn't wake her yet. His right wrist throbs, but for the first time since he hit the ground in Baltimore, he feels like he can breathe properly.

She came. Despite everything that's been complicated between them, despite the tour starting in three weeks, despite having to abandon a major TV appearance—she came.

Joe reaches out with his good hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from her face. Riley stirs slightly but doesn't wake, just shifts closer to where he's sitting.

"Riley," he says softly. "Hey."

Her eyes flutter open, confused for a moment before they focus on him. Then her face completely transforms.

"Joe." She sits up quickly, immediately reaching for him before catching herself and being careful of his injured wrist. "Are you okay? How do you feel? What did the doctors say?"

* * *

Joe looks at her for a long moment, taking in her sleep-messed hair, the way she's instantly alert despite having been asleep seconds ago.

"Season's over," he says simply. "Surgery next week."

Riley's face falls. "Shit. How bad?"

"Bad enough." Joe flexes his good hand. "Ligament's torn. They said six months minimum, but..."

"But you don't know if it'll be the same."

"Yeah. That uncertainty has to be killing you."

Riley doesn't try to tell him it'll be fine or offer empty reassurances. She just nods, understanding.

"How was the flight?" she asks, which is such a Riley question—practical, immediate.

"Long. Couldn't sleep." Joe looks at his wrapped wrist. "Kept thinking about the play. How normal it was until it wasn't."

"These things happen fast."

"Yeah, they do." Joe's quiet for a moment. "You left your show."

"Couldn't exactly sit there and talk about tour dates when you were walking off the field holding your wrist."

Joe almost smiles at that. "Colbert probably wasn't happy."

"Colbert was fine. Pete took care of it." Riley shifts on the couch. "But really, how are you? Like actually."

Joe considers this, looking at her. With Riley, he doesn't have to perform. Doesn't have to be the franchise quarterback who's got everything under control.

"Scared," he admits quietly. "I've never not been able to play before. Even when I was hurt, I knew I'd come back. This feels different."

Riley nods. "Different how?"

"Like maybe I won't." Joe's voice gets quieter. "Or maybe I will, but it won't be the same. And if it's not the same..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but Riley understands. Football isn't just Joe's job—it's been his identity since he was a kid.

"You don't have to figure that out today," she says.

"I know. But my brain won't shut up about it."

"Your brain never shuts up about anything."

That gets a small laugh out of him. "True."

They sit in silence for a moment. Joe looks exhausted, pain medication making his movements slower, more careful than usual.

"You came," he says eventually.

"You asked me to come."

"I asked my parents to pick you up. I didn't ask you to leave New York."

Riley looks at him like that's the stupidest thing he's ever said. "Where else was I going to be?"

"Doing your job. Being professional."

"Joe." Riley's voice is matter-of-fact. "You got hurt. Did you honestly think I was going to stay in New York and talk about my tour?"

Joe's throat tightens unexpectedly. Not because of what she said, but because of how she said it—like there was never any question, never any choice to make.

"Your tour starts in three weeks," he says.

"I know."

"You'll be gone for over a year."

"Yeah."

Joe looks at her, and something in his expression shifts. The exhaustion, the pain medication, the relief of having her here—it all hits him at once, and his careful control finally cracks.

His eyes fill up, and he looks away quickly, jaw tightening as he tries to hold it together.

"Hey," Riley says softly. "It's okay."

"I'm fine," Joe says automatically, but his voice wavers.

"No, you're not. And that's okay."

Joe takes a shaky breath, tears threatening to spill over. "I don't know what I'm doing, Riley. I've had a plan since I was eight years old, and now..."

"Now you need a different plan."

"I don't know how to make a different plan." Joe's voice breaks slightly. "This is all I know how to do."

Riley doesn't say anything for a moment, just lets him sit with it.

"You know what you're going to do right now?" she says finally.

"What?"

"You're going to go upstairs, take a shower, and sleep for six hours. Then we'll figure out the next thing."

Joe looks at her, and despite everything, he almost smiles. "That's your plan?"

"That's my plan for today. Tomorrow we'll make a plan for tomorrow."

Joe nods, wiping his eyes with his good hand. "Okay."

"Okay."

He looks at her again, really looks at her—sitting on his couch at seven in the morning, still in the clothes she slept in, hair messy, completely focused on him.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For coming. For being here."

"Always," Riley says simply.

And Joe believes her.

* * *

"Come on," Riley says, standing up from the couch. "Let's get you upstairs."

Joe follows her slowly, his movements careful and deliberate. The pain medication makes everything feel slightly disconnected, and his wrapped wrist throbs with each step.

In his bedroom, Riley moves around with familiar efficiency, pulling clean clothes from his dresser while Joe sits on the edge of the bed.

"Can you get your shirt off?" she asks, turning back to him.

Joe tries to pull his hoodie over his head with his left hand, but the movement pulls at his injured wrist and he winces, stopping halfway.

"Here," Riley says, moving to help him. She's gentle but matter-of-fact about it, carefully working the fabric over his wrapped wrist and pulling the hoodie off.

"This is stupid," Joe mutters, frustrated by his helplessness.

"It's temporary," Riley says simply, folding his hoodie and setting it aside. "Shower?"

Joe nods, and Riley follows him into the bathroom. She starts the water, testing the temperature with her hand while Joe struggles with his sweatpants.

"Joe." Riley's voice is patient. "Let me help."

She helps him out of the rest of his clothes, her touch clinical and caring rather than sexual. When she starts to undress herself, Joe raises an eyebrow.

"You don't have to—"

"I'm not letting you fall and break your other wrist," Riley says, stepping out of her joggers. "Besides, someone needs to wash your hair."

In the shower, Riley is careful and gentle. She keeps his wrapped wrist dry, holding it away from the spray while she helps him wash. Her movements are efficient, focused on taking care of him rather than anything else.

"This okay?" she asks, working shampoo through his hair.

Joe nods, closing his eyes. The hot water feels good on his sore muscles, and having Riley take care of him feels like relief he didn't know he needed.

"Lean forward a little," she says, rinsing the shampoo out. "There."

She washes his back, his shoulders, careful around any tender spots. When she reaches for the body wash, Joe catches her wrist with his good hand.

"Riley."

"What?"

"Thank you. For all of this."

She looks at him, water running down her face. "You don't have to thank me for taking care of you."

"Yeah, I do."

Riley studies his expression for a moment, then nods. "Okay. You're welcome."

She finishes washing him quickly and efficiently, then helps him out of the shower. Riley wraps a towel around herself and then helps Joe dry off, being extra careful around his injured wrist.

"Clean clothes?" she asks.

"Just boxers for now," Joe says. "I need to sleep."

Riley helps him into fresh underwear and a t-shirt, movements still gentle and practical. By the time they're done, Joe looks ready to collapse.

"Bed," Riley says, pulling back the covers.

Joe gets in carefully, and Riley climbs in beside him, still in just a towel. She pulls the blackout curtains closed, plunging the room into darkness.

"Sleep," she says quietly, settling beside him.

Joe lies on his side, facing Riley in the dark room. She's starting to drift off, her breathing getting deeper, but he can't sleep yet. His mind won't quiet down—not about the injury, but about her. About everything she's done in the last eight hours.

"Riley," he says softly.

"Mmm?" Her eyes flutter open. "Yeah baby?"

Joe looks at her in the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains. "I love you. I love you so much it hurts to breathe when I think about it, which is why I haven't told you sooner."

Riley sits up quickly, suddenly fully awake. "Joe..."

"I know I've been difficult lately. With the season, with my shin, with everything. But you came anyway. You left your show and got on a plane and took care of me, and—"

"Joe." Riley's voice is soft but sure. "I love you too."

Joe feels something settle in his chest that's been restless for months.

"You know," Riley continues, "remember that phone call we had before you flew to New Orleans? To meet Papa and everyone?"

"Yeah. You were acting weird."

Riley laughs quietly. "I was acting weird because I'd just figured it out. That I loved you. I was trying so hard not to say it and probably sounded like a complete psycho."

"You did sound like a psycho," Joe says, almost smiling. "I thought you were trying to un-invite me."

"Never." Riley settles back down beside him. "When did you know?"

Joe's quiet for a moment. "I think I knew when I walked into your house that first time. When I heard that fucking song in my head and felt like I was home for the first time in my life."

"'This Must Be the Place,'" Riley says softly.

"Yeah. That one." Joe looks at her, suddenly feeling ridiculous but not caring. "I hate to be a total fucking corn ball, but will you sing it to me while I go to sleep?"

Riley's face softens completely. "Of course."

She starts singing quietly, her voice barely above a whisper in the dark room:

Home is where I want to be

Pick me up and turn me round

Joe closes his eyes, listening to her voice, feeling the tension finally leave his body.

Home is where I want to be

But I guess I'm already there

Riley continues through the verses, her voice soft and soothing. When she gets to the part about lifting up wings, Joe's voice joins hers, quiet but sure:

I come home, she lifted up her wings

I guess that this must be the place

Riley smiles, continuing to sing until Joe's breathing evens out and his face relaxes into sleep. She keeps singing even after he's asleep, the familiar words filling the quiet room until she finally drifts off too, her hand resting gently on his chest.

* * *

Joe wakes up groggy as hell, his wrist throbbing and his mouth dry from the pain meds. The room's dark, but he can tell it's afternoon. He hears Riley talking in the bathroom, her voice quiet but firm.

"Gwennie, hey. Yeah, cancel everything this week... No, everything. All the promo stuff, the interviews, whatever's on the books."

Joe stays still, listening.

"Because Joe's having surgery and I'm staying here... Gwen, I don't care what it costs. Just cancel it." There's a pause. "What about the tour? We postpone it. Simple."

Joe sits up slowly, trying to clear his head.

"Look, I know it's a lot of money, but I'm not leaving him right now... No, I haven't talked to him yet, but—"

Joe gets up and heads toward the bathroom.

"Riley."

She turns, phone still at her ear. "Gwen, I'll call you back."

She hangs up and looks at him. "How'd you sleep?"

"What did you just do?"

"Cleared my schedule so I can be here with you."

Joe stares at her. "You can't postpone the tour."

"Yes, I can. It's my tour."

"Riley, no. Absolutely not."

"Joe—"

"No." Joe's voice is firm despite the sleep in his voice. "You are not postponing a year-long arena tour because I hurt my wrist."

"It's not just your wrist, it's surgery, it's recovery—"

"And you have a career. Obligations. People depending on you."

Riley crosses her arms. "You're more important."

"I'm not more important than your entire career."

"You are to me."

Joe feels that familiar tightness in his chest—gratitude mixed with panic. "Riley, listen to me. You cannot sacrifice your tour for this. I won't let you."

"It's not your decision."

"Then I'm asking you not to. Please." Joe leans against the bathroom counter, suddenly exhausted again. "This is everything you've worked for. Everything your band has worked for. You can't throw it away because I got hurt."

Riley studies his face. "What if I just postpone the first few weeks? Until you're—"

"No. None of it. You start that tour in three weeks like you planned."

"Joe—"

"Promise me." Joe looks at her seriously. "Promise me you won't postpone anything."

Riley is quiet for a long moment. "I already canceled this week."

"That's different. This week is fine. But the tour starts on time."

"Fine," Riley says reluctantly. "But I'm flying back for the surgery."

"Riley—"

"That's non-negotiable. I'll be on tour by then anyway, I can fly back for one day."

Joe wants to argue, but he can see from her expression that she won't budge on this point.

"Okay," he agrees. "One day."

Riley nods, then looks at him with concern. "How are you feeling? Pain-wise?"

"Like I got hit by a truck, but better than this morning."

"You should eat something. Your parents made sure there was food."

"Where are my parents?"

"Guest room. They're being very polite about giving us space."

Joe almost smiles. "That sounds like them."

Riley sits beside him on the bed. "Are you sure about the tour? Because I really can—"

"I'm sure." Joe takes her hand with his good one. "I love you for wanting to do it, but I'd never forgive myself if you postponed your entire career for me."

Riley looks at him for a moment, then nods. "Okay. But I'm staying this week."

"This week is perfect."

Riley leans over and kisses him softly. "Your phone's been buzzing all day, by the way. I turned the sound off so you could sleep."

Joe glances at his phone on the nightstand, seeing dozens of missed calls and messages.

"The whole world knows you're here now," he says quietly.

"Yeah," Riley says simply. "They do."

* * *

The rest of the week passes in a strange bubble. Joe's parents stay through Tuesday, helping out and getting to know Riley better before heading back to Athens. Joe spends most of his time dealing with team doctors, scheduling surgery, and trying to avoid thinking too hard about what comes next.

Riley barely leaves his side. She drives him to appointments, makes sure he takes his medication, and somehow manages to make even the worst parts of the day feel manageable. Joe watches her navigate his world—charming his doctors, remembering his teammates' names, fitting seamlessly into his life like she's always been there.

On Wednesday, Joe's phone rings during lunch. Mark's name on the screen.

"I should take this," Joe says, stepping into the other room.

"Joe, we need to talk," Mark says without preamble. "Have you seen what people are saying?"

"No, and I don't want to."

"Well, you need to know. The narrative isn't good. People are saying you were distracted, that dating someone like Riley affected your focus—"

"Someone like Riley?"

"You know what I mean. The lifestyle, the drama, the attention. People are connecting dots that aren't there, saying the relationship is why you got hurt."

Joe closes his eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You've been different this season, Joe. Less focused. And now you're dating a rock star who parties with celebrities and—"

"Riley doesn't party. You don't know what you're talking about."

"The optics are bad. Really bad. Bill and I think we need to get ahead of this—"

Joe hangs up.

When he walks back into the kitchen, Riley's cleaning up their lunch, but she looks up at his expression.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Just agent stuff."

Riley studies his face but doesn't push.

Thursday afternoon, Bill calls.

"Joe, I'm driving over. We need to have a conversation."

"I'm not really up for—"

"This isn't optional. I'll be there in an hour."

When Bill arrives, he spreads out printed articles and screenshots across Joe's kitchen island like evidence in a court case.

"Look at this," Bill says, pointing to a headline. "'Burrow's Career Derailed by Rock Star Romance.' And this one: 'Is Joe Burrow's Girlfriend Worth a Super Bowl?' They're tearing you apart, Joe."

Joe glances at the headlines, feeling sick. "Where's Riley?"

"How should I know? Joe, you need to see what you're dealing with here. People are questioning your judgment, your priorities—"

"My priorities are fine."

"Are they? Because from the outside, it looks like you're choosing a relationship over your career."

"I got hurt on a normal play. It has nothing to do with Riley."

"Doesn't matter. Perception is reality in this business."

Joe hears footsteps on the stairs and turns to see Riley coming down. She takes one look at the papers spread across the counter and her expression hardens.

"You must be Bill," she says coolly.

"Riley Carter. Good to finally meet you."

"Wish I could say the same." Riley walks over to the counter, scanning the headlines. "This is what you came here to show him?"

"He needs to understand the situation—"

"The situation is that Joe got hurt playing football. That's it."

"The situation is more complicated than that, and you know it."

Riley's voice gets sharp. "No, what's complicated is grown men blaming a woman for a football injury because they need someone to point fingers at."

"Riley," Joe says quietly, not wanting this to escalate.

But Riley's just getting started. "You want to talk about distractions? Let's talk about how you two have been calling him all week with this garbage instead of letting him focus on recovery."

Bill straightens. "We're trying to protect his career—"

"By throwing me under the bus?"

"By being realistic about the optics."

"The optics of what? Joe dating someone? Having a life outside football?"

"The optics of Joe dating someone whose lifestyle is incompatible with professional athletics."

Riley laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My lifestyle? You mean working? Because that's what I do. I work. I write songs, I record albums, I perform. Just like Joe plays football."

"It's not the same thing—"

"You're right. It's not. Because when I fuck up, it only affects me. When Joe gets hurt, apparently it's my fault too."

"That's not what I'm saying—"

"That's exactly what you're saying."

Joe watches this exchange feeling helpless. Riley's defending him with the same fierce loyalty she's shown all week, but he can see the toll this is taking on her too.

"Maybe we should all take a step back," Joe says.

Riley looks at him, and for a moment, Joe sees something flicker across her face. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointment that he's not backing her up more forcefully.

"Yeah," she says quietly. "Maybe we should."

She heads back upstairs without another word.

Bill starts to say something, but Joe cuts him off.

"I think you should go."

"Joe, I'm trying to help—"

"I know. But right now, I need you to leave."

After Bill's gone, Joe finds Riley in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with her laptop.

"I'm sorry about that," he says.

"Are you?"

"What do you mean?"

Riley closes her laptop. "I mean, are you actually sorry he came here and said those things, or are you sorry I had to hear them?"

Joe doesn't answer right away, and that tells Riley everything she needs to know.

"I'm going to go for a drive," she says, standing up.

"Riley—"

"I just need some air. I'll be back."

She's gone for two hours. When she comes back, they don't talk about it. They make dinner, watch a movie, and go to bed like nothing happened. But something has shifted, and they both feel it.

* * *

Friday morning, Riley starts packing.

"Tour starts Monday," she says when Joe asks why her suitcase is out.

"Right. I forgot what day it was."

"I need to get to Philadelphia tomorrow, do final rehearsals and sound check on Sunday."

Joe watches her fold clothes with quick, efficient movements. "Are we okay?"

Riley pauses, a t-shirt in her hands. "Yeah. We're okay."

But she won't look at him when she says it.

The car comes to take her to the airport Saturday afternoon. They stand in his driveway, knowing she'll be back for his surgery in a few days.

"I'll see you Wednesday," Riley says.

"You don't have to—"

"I want to. And I'll be there when you wake up."

Joe nods, not trusting his voice.

Riley kisses him goodbye, and Joe watches her car disappear down his street.

He goes back inside to his empty house and finally allows himself to think about what Bill showed him. About the headlines and the criticism and the growing narrative that he's lost focus.

Maybe they're not wrong.

* * *

Social Media Explosion

X (Twitter)

@ESPNStatsInfo Joe Burrow threw 23 TDs and 5 INTs over his first 10 games this season. His QBR was 82.6. The narrative that he was "distracted" doesn't match the numbers. #Bengals

@BengalsFanBoy Replying to @ESPNStatsInfo Bro was literally having his best season and people wanna blame his girlfriend for a freak injury. Make it make sense.

@NFLCommentator 🧵 THREAD: The Joe Burrow situation is bigger than football. When you're the face of a franchise, your personal life matters. Dating a rock star brings chaos and distraction. Period. 1/7

@RileyStanAccount This man really said dating a rock star brings chaos. Riley Carter literally graduated valedictorian and built a million-dollar business. The misogyny is loud.

@SportsCenter Riley Carter's rep confirms she cancelled an entire week of album promotion to be with Joe Burrow after his injury. The Late Show appearance would have reached 3M+ viewers. That's real love. 🔥

@BengalsNation88 Replying to @SportsCenter And then flew back from her tour for his surgery. Y'all still think she's the problem?

@ToxicMascAlert "Real love" is not sabotaging your man's career by being a distraction. Joe was MVP caliber before her. Now look.

@MusicNews247 BREAKING: Sources say Riley Carter was ready to postpone her entire ARENA TOUR for Joe Burrow's recovery. The tour is projected to gross $200M+. Let that sink in.

@FootballAnalyst The Joe Burrow injury is unfortunate but let's be real - elite QBs don't let relationships affect their game. Look at Brady, Manning, Rodgers. They stayed focused. #Bengals

@RealTalk_Sarah Replying to @FootballAnalyst Brady and Manning were both married with kids during their careers. But somehow Joe dating someone is the problem? The double standard is insane.

Instagram

@joeyb_9 (Comments disabled) Photo from rehab session "Day by day. Thank you for all the support."

@deuxmoi "Submitted: Was at CVG airport yesterday and saw Riley Carter getting on a private jet. She looked exhausted but was super nice to airport staff. Apparently she's flying between tour cities and Cincinnati constantly. No one's confirming anything but the timing is obvious. 👀" ❤️ 47,293 likes

@entertainmenttonight "NEW: Multiple sources confirm Riley Carter has been spotted flying between tour stops and Cincinnati multiple times this week. Her reps continue to cite 'family emergency' but won't elaborate. Link in bio for full story." ❤️ 892,047 likes

TikTok

@nflteaa (1.2M views) Video showing Joe's stats before vs. during relationship "POV: You realize Joe Burrow was actually playing BETTER this season 📊✨" Sound: "The math ain't mathing"

Top comment: "The narrative that she ruined his career when he was literally having his best season ever 💀"

@rileycarterfp (850K views) Compilation of Riley's biggest career moments "Since y'all wanna call her a distraction, here's what she accomplished while dating Joe: #1 album, sold out arena tour, Grammy nomination, $200M+ tour grossing. The disrespect is unreal."

@sportstalktok (2.1M views) Split screen: Headlines about Joe vs. Headlines about Riley "Notice how every headline about her is positive and every one about him is negative? That's not an accident."

@popculture.detective (956K views) Text overlay: "Riley Carter cancelling $50M worth of appearances to care for her boyfriend" "This is what love looks like when someone has actually grown up ✨" Sound: "That's a real one right there"

r/bengals

Title: The double standard around Joe and Riley is insane (5,847 upvotes) Posted 2 days ago

"Everyone's acting like Joe's the first NFL player to have a girlfriend. The man was playing lights out before he got hurt. This injury could have happened to anyone, any play. But because he's dating someone famous suddenly it's her fault?

Meanwhile she literally cancelled millions in promo to take care of him and people are still calling her a distraction. Make it make sense."

Top comment (2,103 upvotes): "The way people are treating Riley vs. how they treated Gisele with Brady is night and day. Wonder what the difference could be 🤔"

Reply (847 upvotes): "Gisele was a supermodel married to the GOAT. Riley's a successful musician dating a great QB. Somehow one is acceptable and one isn't. Can't quite put my finger on why..."

r/popheads

Title: Riley Carter is getting way too much hate for supporting her boyfriend (12,903 upvotes) Posted 1 day ago

"I've been a Riley stan since her first album and the way people are treating her right now is disgusting. She's being called a distraction for... existing? Dating someone? Having a career?

This woman has worked her ass off for 10+ years, built an empire, and is one of the most genuine artists in the industry. Now she's being blamed for a football injury that had nothing to do with her.

The misogyny is loud and clear."

Top comment (3,847 upvotes): "The fact that she was ready to postpone a $200M+ tour and people are still calling her selfish... I can't."

r/nfl

Title: [Serious] Can we have an actual discussion about the Joe Burrow situation? (8,472 upvotes) Posted 18 hours ago

"I'm seeing a lot of really toxic takes about Joe's injury and his relationship. As someone who's watched every Bengals game this season, Joe was playing at an elite level. His decision-making was sharp, his accuracy was there, and the team was clicking.

This injury was a freak accident that could happen to any QB. Blaming his girlfriend is not only ridiculous, it's harmful to the discourse around professional sports.

Can we focus on his recovery instead of manufacturing drama?"

Top comment (2,956 upvotes): "The way some of y'all talk about athletes' personal lives is genuinely disturbing. These are human beings, not your fantasy football players."

Controversial comment (-234 upvotes): "Elite athletes don't let relationships affect their performance. There's a reason most successful QBs keep their personal lives low-key."

Reply (445 upvotes): "Joe literally WAS keeping it low-key until he got hurt and she flew across the country to support him. Y'all are creating drama where none exists."

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