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honeydippedfiction · 7 days ago

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Joe x Angel prompt “This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.” With prompt #7 “finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc)”

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#7. finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc). & “This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal

Joe Burrow x Angel

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

The early spring air just outside Cincinnati carried a faint breath of warmth—an early promise of summer yet to fully arrive. Trees stood in soft bloom, the scent of magnolia teasing the edges of the breeze. But inside the Burrow household, the atmosphere radiated something far more potent than seasonal change. Not sunlight, not warmth from the weather, but from something else entirely: anticipation.

The Met Gala was just five days away.

In the heart of the sun-dappled living room, a tranquil sort of chaos had settled. Plush cream-colored rugs blanketed the hardwood floor, and in the center of it all sat Joe Burrow, cross-legged and relaxed, his gaze entirely focused on the tiny queen commanding his world. Zariyah Jasmine Burrow—six months old, round-cheeked and ruling their household with a dimpled iron fist—was far too consumed by her current obsession to notice the bright neon-green teething ring her father waggled in front of her.

Instead, she had discovered her toes. Soft, chubby, impossibly bendy feet that she had brought triumphantly to her mouth and was now gnawing on with intense, drool-heavy concentration.

Joe chuckled, brushing a hand across his jaw as he watched her. “Z,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “You’re about to have the coolest parents at this whole thing.”

She responded with a gurgle and a kick, not breaking eye contact with her beloved toes.

Joe kissed her cheek—slowly, intentionally—his lips lingering a second longer than necessary as he breathed in her scent: baby lotion, milk, and something tender and unmistakably hers. The kind of smell that could ground you. That could eclipse headlines, game stats, and award buzz in an instant.

“Not that I think you care,” he added with a crooked smile. “You’re gonna sleep through the whole red carpet anyway.”

Her grin came then—big, toothless, and dazzling, the kind that could melt glaciers. It broke something open in him, as it always did. For a moment, it felt like the world was just the two of them, sun pouring through the windows, time suspended in a golden hush.

Then came the sound: a faint giggle echoing down the hallway, followed by the muffled chatter of yet another FaceTime call.

Joe tilted his head toward the guest room. Behind the closed door, Angel was in her element.

Her voice filtered through in snippets—bright, animated, decisive. “No, no, we are not doing that lip.” Laughter. “Yes, that train, not the one from last week. What? Girl, no. This is Met, not a brunch.”

She’d been camped in that room every morning for the past week, turning it into mission control. The door remained locked without exception. Inside, racks of fabric and sketches lived beside shoes that cost more than some of Joe’s rookie-year suits. Her stylist, makeup artist, and designer had created a mobile headquarters, and Angel? Angel had taken the helm like a seasoned general.

Joe could still picture the conversation that had set the boundary in place.

It was two nights earlier. Zariyah had been balanced on Angel’s hip, blinking drowsily at the TV while Angel pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Joe with all the seriousness of a coach delivering a fourth-quarter play.

“We are not seeing each other’s outfits until the night of,” she said, brows raised. “No hints. No sneak peeks. I want the reveal to hit, you hear me? I want drama.”

Joe had raised both hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright. We’ll do it your way. No spoilers.”

“And no cheating!” she added over her shoulder as she disappeared into the guest room with Zariyah and a swath of silk.

He hadn’t seen her dress. Still hadn’t. She meant it when she said she wanted a reveal.

And honestly? He loved her for it.

Joe sat back on his hands now, glancing at the hallway door with a quiet sort of pride. This wasn’t just about fashion or photos. Not really. This was Angel’s first Met Gala. Her first moment on a carpet that shimmered with legacy and legacy-makers. She was building something—her story, her identity—one stitch, one silhouette, one fearless beauty choice at a time.

And Joe? He was content to be the man beside her when she stepped into that light. Not as an accessory, not as a headline, but as her partner. Her anchor.

Behind him, Zariyah let out a triumphant squeal—either because she’d managed to fit three toes into her mouth or simply because she could.

Joe laughed softly and scooped her into his arms. She squirmed a little, making a sound that might’ve been protest or might’ve been joy. With Zariyah, the line was thin.

“You gonna let Mama finish getting famous?” he asked her as he cradled her against his chest.

Zariyah gave no answer, her eyes already starting to flutter shut, soothed by the warmth of his body and the cadence of his voice.

Joe stood, swaying slightly with her in his arms as he looked once more toward the hallway. The door remained closed, the laughter still drifting through in bursts. Somewhere on the other side, Angel was plotting something brilliant.

And here, in the quiet glow of morning, Joe held the future in his arms, waited on history to unfold, and smiled.

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

Friday Morning – Fittings and Feels

The morning sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting gold-tinted streaks across the bedroom walls of the Burrow home. Outside, the world was waking up slow and soft, but inside, the energy was anything but sleepy. It buzzed like an amp turned too high, all nerves, excitement, and caffeine-fueled adrenaline.

“Hold still, baby,” Angel murmured, gently nudging Zariyah’s chubby leg into place as she fastened a tiny silk bow onto the shoulder of her onesie. The fabric was smooth, almost absurdly elegant for infant wear, but Angel insisted: her daughter was going to be Met Gala ready even if she only lasted ten minutes in it before spitting up.

Perched on the edge of the bed in one of Joe’s oversized white t-shirts—bare legs crossed, her makeup half-done—Angel moved with the fluid precision of a woman balancing three things at once: a baby, a beauty routine, and a transformation.

The Dolce & Gabbana suit hung nearby, suspended on a brass rack like an exhibit. It was a vision of sharp tailoring and cultural boldness—bold turquoise embroidery cascading over rich black pinstripes, cut to slice through air and doubt with equal force. The pants were tailored to the inch. The jacket, slightly oversized in a deliberate, almost masculine nod, still cinched at the waist like it knew who it was dressing. There was a matching wide-brimmed hat, sitting on the dresser like it had opinions of its own.

“It’s giving power,” Monica declared from the chaise lounge by the window, one hand clutching an iced coffee and the other scrolling through a playlist she was curating for the car ride to New York. “You’re gonna have Vogue calling you Revolution in Heels by midnight.”

Angel glanced up in the mirror, one eyebrow lifting. “I’m not even wearing heels.”

“Even better,” Monica said, grinning. “Makes it revolutionary and practical.”

Karis, her stylist and now spiritual life coach by default, stepped in from the hallway, a roll of garment tape in one hand and a critical eye already scanning the room. Her dark curls were piled high in a silk wrap, her all-black outfit punctuated only by the diamond studs in her ears. She stopped in front of Angel, arms folded.

“The tailoring came back even cleaner than we hoped,” she said, approvingly. “That silhouette on you? Lethal. No one’s ready.”

Angel exhaled through her nose, looking back down at Zariyah, who had, in true diva fashion, already wriggled halfway out of her onesie and was now trying to stuff her entire fist into her mouth. Angel smiled faintly.

“You think it’s too much?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “The hat, the grills... I mean, it’s kind of loud.”

“It’s the Met, Angel,” Karis replied, her tone firm but not unkind. “Loud is the dress code. Besides, this year’s theme? Superfine: Tailoring Black Style. You’re not just dressing for the carpet—you’re honoring a whole legacy. Black women in suits? That's protest and poetry in motion.”

Monica nodded in agreement. “Exactly. You’re channeling Donyale Luna, Diana Ross, Solange in that Thom Browne moment. You’re walking in with all of them behind you. And in front of you? Girl, a moment.”

Angel looked at herself again. The mirror didn’t lie—it rarely did. Her long, black wig fell sleekly down her back like a silk waterfall, not a strand out of place. Her real hair was wrapped beneath it, her natural coils nourished from hours of deep conditioning and tucked away like sacred history. But tonight wasn’t about reality—it was about image. Illusion. Control.

She ran a finger across her bottom lip, touching the grill that spelled out a single word: Zari.

The name shimmered in silver and ice, cut in sharp cursive, a tribute and a talisman.

“I want Joe to be surprised,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Karis didn’t miss a beat. “Girl, he’s gonna faint.”

“Not faint,” Monica said, waving a manicured hand. “He’s gonna cry, propose again, and call you by your full government name.”

Angel laughed, and the tension finally cracked. She let her shoulders drop and reached for the lip gloss sitting beside the mirror. “It’s just... I don’t know. I want it to feel like me. Not like I’m trying to do the most. Not like I’m putting on for someone else.”

“You’re not,” Karis said gently, stepping forward and meeting her eyes through the mirror. “This is you. This is just you turned all the way up.”

Zariyah let out a squeal at that moment, perfectly timed, as if seconding the statement. Angel glanced down and grinned, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s forehead.

“You approve, huh?” she murmured.

Zariyah responded with a bubble of spit and a noise somewhere between a giggle and a growl.

“She said, ‘Slay, Mommy,’” Monica translated, sipping her coffee. “In baby language.”

Angel stood slowly, brushing imaginary lint from her t-shirt as she approached the rack. She ran her hand over the jacket’s fabric—smooth, structured, unyielding. She’d fought for this version of herself. For the right to stand in a space like the Met and not shrink. To be more than someone’s plus-one. To be seen.

Joe didn’t just get that—he backed it. No questions asked.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A text from Joe.

You got Z? Or did she run off to plan her own outfit?

Angel smiled as she typed back:

She’s fine. She said you better bring it.

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

Meanwhile

Across town, on the twentieth floor of a glass-paneled boutique hotel that caught the morning light like a spotlight, Joe Burrow stood in front of a full-length mirror, arms slightly lifted, posture straight, eyes calculating.

The suite was modern—sleek furniture in tones of slate and cream, designer water bottles stacked neatly by the minibar, a Bluetooth speaker humming lo-fi jazz in the background. Still, it had the clinical energy of a pre-game locker room: quiet tension, nerves held just beneath the surface, clothes laid out like armor.

Joe’s reflection stared back at him: a sharp silhouette in blue-gray. The suit’s tailoring was impeccable, the fit leaning slim but not tight, precise in the way a quarterback liked his routes—disciplined, smooth, with just enough flair in the shoulders to say I showed up to be seen, not just play support.

The fabric moved like liquid when he adjusted the lapel, catching the morning light with a soft gleam. The buttons were jet black, understated. The collar had a slightly exaggerated peak, modern, almost architectural.

“Stand still a sec,” said Remy, his stylist, crouched low and tugging gently at the hem of his pants. She had a pencil tucked behind one ear, a tape measure draped around her neck like a stethoscope. “I’m going to lift the cuff just a touch more. These shoes are loud, and they need room to breathe.”

Joe grinned as he looked down. The Gucci-printed sneakers—ice white with deep blue accents—were a deliberate choice. Not everyone’s idea of Met Gala footwear, but they were his. They felt like home.

“You sure about the sneakers?” Remy asked, rising to full height and tilting her head like she was framing him through a lens. “I mean, it’s still the Met…”

Joe chuckled, that low, gravelly laugh that managed to be both easygoing and unshakably confident. “Yeah. I’m sure. I’m not trying to pretend I’m something I’m not. It’s Black style we’re celebrating, right? This feels more real to me. I’m not showing up in tap shoes and top hats.”

Remy gave a small, approving smirk. “Fair. And honestly? You look sharp, man. Relaxed, but present. Like you belong.”

Joe nodded, but his eyes drifted back to his phone on the windowsill. One missed FaceTime call. From Angel.

He swiped to redial, stepping away from the mirror as the screen rang. It cut to voicemail before the second tone.

He exhaled. “Classic,” he murmured, pocketing the phone.

She’d probably gotten distracted wrangling Zariyah or fine-tuning some last detail of her look. He hadn’t seen the outfit��by strict instruction—but he could feel its presence, like some massive cosmic event building in the distance. It was Angel, after all. She didn’t just step into rooms; she ignited them.

Joe paced slowly to the window, taking in the skyline of downtown Cincinnati. It stretched beneath him like a living grid—quiet now, but beginning to hum with Friday movement. He placed one hand on the glass, the other brushing lightly against his Cartier frames—deep blue lenses that matched the suit’s undertones.

He remembered when she first told him about the invite.

They were in the kitchen—Angel in leggings and an oversized hoodie, Zariyah in a bouncer seat kicking wildly at some hanging giraffe. Angel had said it so casually, like it wasn’t the biggest deal in the fashion world.

“I got confirmed for the Met Gala,” she’d said, spoon in hand as she stirred oatmeal on the stove.

Joe had blinked. “Like… the actual Met Met?”

“Yes, Joseph. The one with the stairs and Anna Wintour and the paparazzi screaming for Rihanna.”

He’d smiled then, slow and wide. “You’re gonna burn the place down.”

Now, standing here in his finished look, he felt the weight of that moment again—but it had evolved. It wasn’t just about glam or spectacle. It was about Angel stepping into a space that hadn’t always been built to welcome her. And about him standing beside her, not in front of her, not above her—just beside. Equal footing. Matching energy. Proud support.

He was already imagining the first look. Her stepping out of that car. The gasp. The silence that always came before the flashbulbs started.

Remy walked back into view, holding a lint roller like a weapon. “Don’t move.”

Joe laughed again but froze in place obediently as she did one last once-over. “You good on timing?” she asked. “We’re set to head to the car in forty.”

“Yeah. I’m good,” he said, checking his watch. “Waiting on Angel anyway.”

Remy grinned knowingly. “Bet she’s making it worth the wait.”

“Oh, no doubt.”

Joe checked his phone one more time. Still nothing.

So he opened their text thread and sent one word:

Ready.

No punctuation. No emoji. Just the word.

Then he picked up the baby-blue pocket square from the bed—embroidered with Zariyah’s initials—and tucked it into his breast pocket. A quiet nod to the most important girl in his life.

Until tonight.

Tonight, Angel was taking center stage.

And Joe? He’d be right there in the wings. Smiling, steady, hers.

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

Monday Evening – The Reveal

The hotel lobby was a study in understated elegance—sleek marble floors, tall gold-framed mirrors, and soft jazz curling through the air like smoke from an expensive cigar. The kind of place that whispered instead of shouted, where even time seemed to slow out of respect.

Joe stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, his hands tucked loosely in his pockets, shoulders relaxed—but his heart was doing something else entirely. It thudded, steady but sharp, like the low beat of a halftime drumline. He'd stood in tunnel entrances before Super Bowls with less adrenaline. This wasn’t the roar of a stadium or the hum of a crowd.

This was the stillness before something holy.

The elevator dinged softly.

He turned.

And for the briefest moment, everything else ceased to matter. Noise, nerves, expectations—they fell away in a single blink.

Angel stepped into view.

She moved like time itself slowed to let her pass—each stride measured, intentional, like she’d rehearsed her entrance in dreams. The turquoise and black suit clung to her like smoke and thunder—tailored to perfection, with every seam whispering power. The embroidery glimmered under the golden chandelier light, intricate turquoise thread swirling like jazz riffs across the sleek fabric. Her hat was tilted just slightly off-center, a nod to ‘70s noir and unapologetic cool. Her wig, smooth and sharp, framed her face like a sculptor’s final touch.

And those nails? Lacquered, flawless, catching the light like tiny mirrors. The grill on her bottom lip caught him next—Zari, spelled in silver. Every inch of her was curated with the kind of vision that made fashion houses write odes and photographers lose their breath.

Joe did exactly that—lost his breath.

His mouth opened slightly before he even realized it. He blinked once, twice.

“Angel…” he exhaled, voice low, reverent. “You’re not playing fair.”

Angel grinned, sauntering down the last few steps, hips swaying with unapologetic rhythm. “And you’re still breathing, so I must’ve held back.”

She didn’t stop until she was in front of him, her eyes sparkling like she’d known he’d be speechless. Joe reached out instinctively and took her hand, spinning her gently. She let him, her coat tails flaring slightly, her eyes never leaving his.

“You look…” He stopped. Words failed in the face of her. “Incredible. That suit? That hat? I’m not gonna be able to keep my eyes on anything else tonight.”

“And you,” she said, voice velvet-dipped with teasing, tugging lightly at his lapel as she circled him with mock scrutiny. “Look like a Cartier ad and a quarterback had a baby.”

He raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You roasting me at the Met?”

She didn’t blink. “Joe, you showed up in Gucci sneakers. You're lucky you’re fine.”

He let out a soft laugh, running a hand over his hair. “Told you I wasn’t showing up in church shoes.”

“Mm,” she hummed, stepping closer, tapping his glasses lightly. “And the blue shades? You trying to be mysterious now?”

Joe shrugged, lips curving. “They match the suit.”

“They also scream, ‘Hi, I just came from a GQ shoot in Milan, but I still drink Muscle Milk.’”

He laughed louder now, the tension rolling off his shoulders. He loved this part of her—the way she could cut him down and lift him up in the same breath, keep him grounded even while they both floated.

Angel leaned in, resting a manicured hand against his chest. “You clean up well, Burrow. But tonight?” She raised an eyebrow, eyes gleaming. “I’m the one they’re gonna fall for.”

He looked at her, pure affection radiating in his expression. “They’ll be lucky just to catch a glimpse.”

She softened for a heartbeat, then kissed him on the cheek. “Good answer.”

They stood like that for a moment—just the two of them, quiet inside the grandness of it all. The lobby felt distant now, like a movie set. Outside, black SUVs were already pulling up to the curb. Paparazzi were assembling behind velvet ropes. The Met carpet was waiting. Cameras. Flashbulbs. A thousand eyes.

But here, in this moment, it was still just Joe and Angel.

He leaned down, kissed her forehead gently. “Ready to shut it down?”

She stepped back, adjusting her hat just slightly, her expression poised and unreadable in the way only true stars manage.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They walked out together, hand in hand, their silhouettes sharp against the marble. And when the doors opened and the cameras began to pop, Joe didn’t even blink.

Because he knew.

Tonight didn’t belong to him.

It belonged to her.

And he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

Monday Night – The Met Gala

Outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the night bloomed electric.

The blue carpet shimmered beneath the blaze of strobes, stretching up the grand staircase like a path into Olympus itself. Photographers shouted names like spells, summoning celebrities in silks, sequins, plumes, and impossible couture. Each arrival was a moment—tailored spectacle timed to the flash of a thousand bulbs. The air was thick with perfume, high fashion, and the breathless energy of culture in motion.

And then, just as the rhythm seemed to settle into predictability, a new presence stepped from a sleek black SUV—and the atmosphere shifted.

It was like a sudden intake of breath.

Angel Burrow.

She stepped out first, boots clicking against the stone, each stride measured and regal. Her turquoise and black suit gleamed beneath the floodlights, the embroidery catching the flashes in flickers like firelight. The wide-brimmed hat sat tilted just off-center, casting a shadow that danced across her cheekbones. Her grill sparkled as she smiled—Zari, the name of her daughter, refracting in silver.

She wasn’t just dressed for the theme.

She was the theme.

Black elegance. Black legacy. Black resistance tailored into fabric, walking forward like it had something to say—and it wasn’t asking permission to speak.

Joe followed her, a breath behind, his fingers naturally slipping into hers. He was every bit the calm to her storm: minimalist in his blue-gray suit, a Cartier coolness radiating from his frames and the quiet confidence in his stride. The Gucci sneakers—his one defiant wink—grounded him in authenticity.

Together, they were contrast and complement. Fire and water. Sharp edges softened by shared grace.

“Angel Burrow! Joe! Over here! Over here!”

The shouts came in waves from every direction. Flash, flash, flash.

They stopped, posed. She tilted her hat slightly, her smirk radiant but restrained. Joe stood beside her with an arm lightly at her back, smiling, relaxed, but visibly proud. Not performative. Just present.

And inside her chest, under all the silk and steel, Angel’s heart beat faster than any camera shutter.

Joe adjusted his cufflinks with one hand and ran the other across his buzzed hair. The nerves weren’t game-day level, but they hovered somewhere between “post-season overtime” and “the first time he met Angel’s mother in her church heels.”

Beside him, Angel stood tall—shoulders back, hat tilted just so, her turquoise and black suit catching every flicker of light like a living sculpture. Her hand found the inside of his elbow, grounding him with the smallest touch.

The Variety correspondent approached them with a wide, practiced smile, heels tapping lightly on the carpet. “Joe Burrow! NFL’s golden arm on the blue carpet tonight!” Her voice sparkled beneath the LED rig. “Tell us—what went into this look?”

Joe gave the same quiet smile he wore in post-game interviews, the kind that said I know what I’m doing, but you don’t need me to say too much about it.

“Well,” he started, glancing briefly at Angel, “I wanted something that felt like me, but still respected the theme. Tailored, but relaxed—kind of a streetwear elegance. If that makes sense.”

The reporter gave an approving nod, eyes moving over the crisp lines of his slate-blue suit and the Gucci sneakers anchoring the whole thing. “It definitely does. You didn’t go too flashy, but it’s smart. The textures, the glasses—very clean. Very current.”

Joe looked down at his shoes with a soft shrug. “I wasn’t gonna come out here pretending to be something I’m not. I love suits. I also love sneakers. Felt like the honest version.”

The reporter smiled, then shifted slightly. “And are you here solo tonight or—?”

Joe didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped aside half a beat, one hand gently resting at the small of Angel’s back as if to frame her. “Solo?” he repeated, feigning confusion. “Nah. I brought the real headliner with me.”

Angel lifted her chin slightly and offered a coy smile, the brim of her hat casting her eyes in a dramatic half-shadow. It wasn’t the spotlight she sought—but when it found her, she knew exactly what to do with it.

The reporter's jaw dropped slightly, audible even through her grin. “Oh my God. Angel Burrow, you look absolutely unreal. This suit—this whole moment—it’s giving classic, power, movement… like you just stepped out of a Gordon Parks frame.”

Angel chuckled softly. “I’ll take that,” she said, adjusting the cuff of her sleeve with a glint of silver on her grill. “Tonight’s about legacy, so… I wanted to show up like I belong to one.”

Joe glanced at her like he’d just heard a highlight reel in real time. “She’s the main event tonight,” he added, voice low, proud.

The reporter beamed. “Honestly? I believe it.”

Flashbulbs went off again, a fresh wave. Angel tilted her hat just enough for the light to catch her grills—"Zari" spelled across her bottom lip—and Joe’s hand stayed at her back, a steady presence.

They were only minutes into the carpet, but it was already clear: they weren’t just attending the Met Gala—they were carving out their place in it.

The air along the steps of the Met was heavy with flashbulbs and whispered awe. The crowd was swelling again—paparazzi clicking in rapid staccato, reporters angling for quotes and candids, assistants whispering touch-up notes. Through all the shimmer and shuffle, Joe Burrow stood calmly beside Angel, one hand resting on her waist, thumb brushing over the fine lines of her tailored jacket.

Angel adjusted the tilt of her wide-brimmed hat ever so slightly, lips parted in a soft smile that never quite left her face. She wasn’t performing; she was owning.

Joe leaned in, eyes scanning the clusters of velvet ropes and couture chaos up ahead.

“Yo,” he murmured under his breath, lips near her ear. “You see who just pulled up?”

Angel turned slightly, following his gaze as he dipped his chin toward the far end of the carpet.

There, walking like he owned the runway and had the stats to back it up, was Justin Jefferson—draped in a bold, oversized gray suit with dramatic puffy shoulders and a flower broach. Clean, sharp, intentional.

Angel smirked instantly, her eyes lighting with recognition. “Mmm, of course he showed out.”

Joe chuckled, nudging her gently. “You wanna go say hey?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, already stepping forward.

They moved in rhythm, gliding past a swirl of stylists and soft-spoken photographers. Joe’s stride was relaxed, but there was a quiet energy in his eyes—a genuine excitement. And beside him, Angel’s presence sharpened like a blade. They didn’t just walk together. They arrived together.

As they approached, Justin looked up—mid-conversation with Tasha Riley, who stood in front of the ESPN camera crew, mic in hand, face radiant. Her Sergio Hudson gown hugged her like royalty. Her box braids framed her face perfectly, and her eyes sparkled with warmth and wit. To viewers, she was one of the sharpest minds in sports media. To Angel, she was family—one of the few women at ESPN who had taken her under her wing early on. His grin widened like someone spotting family across a busy street.

“Ayyeee!” he called out, breaking away with open arms. “Look who it is!”

Joe stepped forward, and the two locked into their signature handshake—quick clasp, pull, shoulder bump, fluid like they’d practiced it the day before. Which, of course, they hadn’t. That’s just what years of brotherhood did.

Then Justin turned to Angel with warmth and swagger. “Angel, stop. You didn’t have to end the whole carpet like this.”

Angel laughed, hugging him like they were back at a post-game celebration. “You know I had to balance the quarterback energy. Can’t let him get too comfortable.”

Justin looked between them, nodding. “Y’all look good—real good.”

Joe clapped a hand to Justin’s shoulder, still grinning. “You’re not doing too bad yourself, man.”

“You two better stop,” Tasha teased as they walked up. “I had to tell my producer to zoom out so we could get both y’all in the frame. Joe, this suit? And Angel, this hat? Listen…”

Angel laughed, reaching out to hug her. “You know we had to show out a little.”

“A little? Girl, you walked out here looking like you write fashion commandments in your sleep,” Tasha said, stepping back and grinning.

“I was just asking him,” she said, gesturing at Justin, “who’s the best-dressed NFL player outside of himself. And our boy was… struggling.”

Joe raised his brows and looked at Justin. “You having a hard time?”

Justin laughed, giving Joe a once-over. “I mean… you’re definitely sharp. You always put it on.”

They both looked down instinctively. Justin clocked the Gucci sneakers, jaw ticking with amusement.

“Ooooh—look at the kicks,” he said, stepping back slightly.

Joe took a cool half-step to the side, just enough to show them off. “You like that?”

The whole circle cracked up.

Justin dapped him again. “Every time, man.”

Joe turned back to the camera with a mock-serious expression. “He says me. You don’t even need to ask him.”

Tasha raised a brow. “Now Joe, would you say Justin?”

Joe didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Since college. JJ’s been consistent. Man dresses like he’s got GQ editors in his group chat.”

Angel leaned in, a teasing grin on her lips. “That’s facts.”

Then Tasha turned the question to her. “Okay, Angel. Let’s settle this. You’re the real style expert here. Who’s winning the fit game tonight?”

Angel tilted her head, eyes dancing between them like a judge on a runway panel. “Joe’s giving luxury streetwear. Confident, controlled, vibey. JJ’s serving tailored power, like he's about to close a deal and hit a gritty in the same hour.”

They waited.

She smirked. “It’s a tie. Y’all can fight it out later.”

Justin laughed, throwing his hands up. “That’s fair. That’s love.”

Joe nodded. “We’ll allow it.”

Tasha turned to the camera, laughing. “There you have it—clean cuts, elite shade, and fashion chemistry. Joe and Angel Burrow, Justin Jefferson—looking like a first-round draft pick for the Met.”

As they shared one more laugh and a few more pictures, the cameras didn’t just capture three NFL stars and a rising ESPN icon—they captured culture in motion. Style with soul. Brotherhood. Black excellence stitched into every thread.

And Angel? She stood in the middle of it all—smiling, steady, exactly where she belonged.

As the interview wrapped, Angel leaned into Tasha again, lowering her voice just enough. “You look stunning, sis. We need a girls' dinner soon. Somewhere without cameras.”

Tasha squeezed her hand. “Absolutely. After this madness.”

As the ESPN crew moved on, the three stood together for another moment—friends, colleagues, culture-bearers—and the lights flashed again like stars being born.

They moved up the steps, then through the great glass doors and into the Met—where the world shifted again.

Inside, reality gave way to surrealism. The main exhibit hall had been transformed into something dreamlike: floating tapestries, curved metallic sculptures, curated tableaus that celebrated Black artistry and heritage in every stitch and panel. There were dancers performing slow, rhythmic movements in custom-made suits from Harlem ateliers. Lights cast shadows in deep blue and gold.

Angel felt it all—the awe, the scale, the history being both told and made around her.

The cameras were outside. Inside, it was artists and peers. Her people.

Well—almost.

Once inside, the museum transformed from architectural wonder into a living canvas. The galleries had been repurposed with fashion installations, light sculptures, and soundscapes echoing with Nina Simone, Kendrick Lamar, and Fela Kuti. The air felt rich with history and heartbeat.

Angel had just exhaled a quiet breath of awe when she felt a ripple of energy beside her. She turned—and froze.

Zendaya. Coco Jones. Janelle Monáe.

They moved like constellations in orbit. Three women who were less “celebrities” and more forces.

Zendaya floated toward them in a custom Louis Vuitton white three-piece suit. The vest was cinched to perfection; the flared trousers moved like smoke as she walked. A wide-brimmed white hat completed the look—Pharrell’s design—and gleamed under the overhead lights. Her Bulgari jewels glittered at her throat and wrists, elegant and unbothered.

Coco Jones followed, a vision in a cream and white Manish Malhotra two-piece with intricate embroidery that seemed to shift with every breath she took. The long-sleeve coat trailed behind her like royalty, and the matching trousers balanced the drama with grace. Her floor-length braided ponytail was practically a myth in motion, and the oversized jewels on her neck and fingers shimmered with untouchable confidence.

Janelle Monáe stood just to their left, dressed in a conceptual masterpiece by Thom Browne and Paul Tazewell—a celebration of Black dandyism and diasporic identity. Her trompe l’oeil overcoat depicted a full suit and briefcase, and her bowler hat was adorned with a working clock monocle. The diamond brooch at her lapel? Crafted from 1800 Tequila, because of course it was.

And they were all—smiling at Angel.

“Oh my God,” Angel whispered, her fingers tightening slightly around Joe’s. “Babe, that’s... that’s all three of them.”

Before Joe could answer, Zendaya reached them first, her eyes gleaming.

“Angel Burrow,” she said with a knowing grin. “It is so good to finally meet you.”

Angel blinked. “You—you know who I am?”

Zendaya laughed softly. “Girl, I follow your ‘Game Day Chic’ posts with Zariyah like they’re runway drops. Half my inspo folder is you in sunglasses holding that baby like a fashion accessory.”

Coco laughed, stepping in for a hug. “Same here. The matching headwraps? The sneakers and stroller combo? Obsessed.”

Angel’s eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly before she could remember how to close it. “I... I don’t even know what to say. You ladies are literally on my vision board.”

Janelle leaned in, her voice lower, more intimate. “And I love how you speak up. ESPN can be loud with a lot of noise—but you cut through all that. When you talk, people listen. You bring culture into sports coverage in a way that honors who we are.”

Angel flushed, touched beyond words. She wasn’t used to this. She had faced stadiums, critics, trolls in her mentions—but here she was, shy in front of three women she’d admired for years.

“I just… I never thought y’all would know me like that,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “I’ve looked up to all of you since... forever. You paved the way for women like me to even be at something like this.”

Zendaya stepped in, touching her shoulder gently. “That’s the thing. Now you’re paving the way. This look?” She nodded at Angel’s suit. “This is history. You are the moment.”

“Period,” Coco echoed, giving her a gentle wink.

Janelle tilted her head, admiring the cut of Angel’s suit. “The tailoring? Precision. And that hat? Criminal. You’re giving protest and pageantry, sis.”

Angel blushed—actually blushed—and laughed again, softer this time. “Coming from you? That means everything. I’ve had your music in my college playlists, like, permanently.”

Zendaya stepped in closer, eyes kind but electric. “It’s giving story. Like, you didn’t just dress for tonight—you came to say something. That’s what this whole thing is about.”

Angel tried to breathe evenly, her voice steady even as her knees threatened to betray her. “I just… wanted to wear something that felt like me. Something my daughter could see years from now and know her mom didn’t shrink.”

All three women paused for a moment, then nodded—an unspoken exchange of sisterhood and knowing.

“I’m glad you showed up like this,” Coco said, smiling. “You remind us why we keep showing up too.”

Angel swallowed, the moment bigger than anything she’d imagined. She offered a grateful nod and a quiet, “Thank you. Really.”

Janelle tilted her hat. “Glad to finally be in the same room with you.”

The women offered hugs and cheek kisses, brief but genuine, before they were swept away into the current of curated chaos again.

And just like that, they were swept away, carried into the buzz and brilliance of the night. Angel stood frozen for a beat, blinking like someone trying to remember how to breathe.

Joe leaned closer, whispering against her temple, “You okay?”

She turned to him, dazed, her voice high with disbelief. “They knew who I was. I thought I was gonna pass out when Zendaya said my name.”

He grinned, eyes full of affection. “You looked like you were trying to levitate out of your body.”

“I was! I did!” she laughed, then looked down at herself. “Do I look like I belong?”

Joe didn’t even hesitate. “You look like this entire night was built for you.”

Angel exhaled slowly, brushing her hands over her hips, gathering herself.

She turned toward him fully. “Alright. Let’s go be legends.”

She turned toward him, her voice quiet now. “Think we did okay?”

Joe didn’t answer immediately. He looked at her—really looked. Not just at the suit or the hat or the shimmer in her grill, but her. The way she held herself now, taller somehow, fuller.

“You didn’t just show up tonight,” he said. “You told a story. I’m proud of you.”

Angel softened, her hand brushing his cheek with quiet affection. “You’re part of that story.”

They stood together for a moment, right there amid fashion’s most elite and the hum of curated glory, their fingers intertwined, eyes speaking in a language of their own.

And together, hand in hand, they stepped further into the magic, surrounded by legacy, light, and the quiet revolution they’d come dressed to honor.

And then, together, they walked deeper into the dream.

Angel had arrived.

And the world was finally watching.

Angel kept one hand tucked into the crook of Joe’s arm, her other occasionally lifting to wave, to hug, to accept compliments with a graceful smile that never slipped into pretense. It was her, just dialed up—a little sharper, a little more golden, but still unmistakably Angel.

And Joe? Joe was barely holding it together.

Not in a bad way. In a how did I end up marrying the most incredible woman in the room kind of way.

Every time Angel laughed—really laughed, head tilted, dimples flashing, grill catching the low light—Joe felt his chest do this warm, dangerous squeeze. It had nothing to do with the setting and everything to do with her being so fully herself.

They were mid-conversation with Michaela Coel—who’d stopped to tell Angel, “Your suit? A sermon. Honestly, I want to frame it”—when Joe’s mind began to wander.

Not far. Just enough to feel his pulse quicken.

It was the way Angel’s suit hugged her waist just right, how the lapels drew the eye to her collarbones and the chain resting there like punctuation. The hat sat tilted like a wink, and Joe couldn’t stop picturing how she’d take it off later—slow, with a look in her eye that said she knew the effect she had.

And Lord, her confidence. That sharp, effortless fire. The way she moved through the space like she was born for it—spoke up with grace, gave out compliments like confetti, held her own with Zendaya, Gabrielle Union, Yara Shahidi, Tracee Ellis Ross.

She was elegance with edge. A walking contradiction. A quiet storm.

Joe leaned in, lips brushing her temple. “You know you’re killing me, right?”

Angel smirked without turning. “Good.”

He chuckled low, letting his hand drift briefly to the small of her back. Not quite inappropriate—but definitely more possessive than before. A whisper of later tucked into the gesture.

She turned to him with a slow once-over, and for a beat, her eyes softened. “This suit,” she murmured, fingertips brushing the crisp line of his lapel. “It brings out your eyes. Like… a lot.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Angel leaned in just enough so her breath grazed his jaw. “If I didn’t have to worry about messing up my makeup, I’d be dragging you into one of these ancient marble corners.”

His jaw flexed slightly. “Say the word. We’ll find an exhibit with low foot traffic.”

She laughed, swatting his chest with her gloved hand. “Behave.”

“I’m trying. You’re making it real hard.”

“Literally?” she teased.

He grinned but didn’t answer. Just dipped his head close again. “You are... everything tonight.”

“You say that like it’s new.”

“It’s not. But it’s louder now.”

Before Angel could offer a smug reply, they were interrupted by none other than Pharrell, trailed by Keke Palmer and Donald Glover in matching earth-toned tailoring.

“Yo, Joe,” Pharrell greeted, offering a handshake and nodding toward Angel. “And you—man, I saw your look on IG before I even got here. Y’all came to represent.”

Angel offered a warm handshake. “It’s an honor, truly. Your work’s been a blueprint.”

“Likewise,” Pharrell said, gesturing to her grills. “That detail? That’s love.”

Donald Glover dapped Joe up with an approving nod. “Quarterback who knows how to wear a suit. That’s rare.”

Joe glanced sideways at Angel. “I’ve got good taste in stylists. And in wives.”

Keke let out a smooth, impressed hum. “Whew. That’s the right answer.”

As the group continued through the hall toward the first installation, Angel reached for Joe’s hand again, threading their fingers together like it was muscle memory.

“You alright?” she asked softly, her tone changing for just a breath.

He looked down at her, blue eyes brighter than the diamonds pinned at her collar.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low and real. “I’ve never been better. Watching you do your thing? I’m just trying not to make it obvious how gone I am for you.”

She smiled, then kissed his cheek just below the glasses. “You’ve never hidden it well.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t plan to start.”

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

The soft chime of jazz filtered through the suite speakers, the kind of low, velvety music that wrapped around the room like silk. Outside the Met Gala madness had begun to melt into memory, but inside their hotel suite, a different kind of energy buzzed—intimate, playful, and unmistakably them.

Angel stood in front of the full-length mirror, slipping a delicate gold bracelet around her wrist. The corset-style bodice of her dress hugged her like a second skin, the smooth black velvet drawing the eye to her waist, while the dramatic rosette skirt gave her the kind of silhouette that could stop a clock. She tilted her head, letting her loose waves fall over one shoulder, and caught her reflection smiling.

Behind her, Joe emerged from the bathroom, toweling his curls and wearing nothing but a white hotel robe—loosely tied, of course, because of course. His sleeveless sweater vest and pleated trousers were laid out neatly on the bed, along with his chain and wristband. But he was in no rush.

He leaned against the doorframe, towel slung over his shoulder, and let out a low whistle. “You’re really gonna make me walk into that party looking like your plus-one?”

Angel turned slowly, lips curving into a sly grin. “You are my plus-one.”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head as he walked toward her. “I look like the dude who drives the woman in that dress.”

She laughed, stepping toward him, heels clicking softly on the polished wood floors. “You are so dramatic.”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re the one looking like an editorial spread came to life. I’m just trying to keep up.”

Angel smoothed a hand over his chest through the robe, eyes playful. “Please. You’re about to have the internet breaking down your outfit piece by piece. The curls? The chain? Those trousers that hug just right?”

Joe smirked, a brow lifting. “You noticed that, huh?”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, letting her fingers slide from his chest to the knot of his robe. She gave it a little tug—not enough to undo it, but just enough to make her point. “You’re wearing dangerous energy tonight.”

He leaned in, close enough that his voice dropped to a murmur against her cheek. “You talking about my outfit or something else?”

Angel gave him a slow once-over, tongue peeking out as she smiled. “Both.”

Joe backed up a step, finally dropping the robe to change. “You keep talking like that and we’re gonna miss the whole party.”

“We already won the party,” she said over her shoulder, returning to the mirror. “This is just the victory lap.”

He pulled the sweater vest over his head, adjusting the deep V just so, the subtle fraying at the armholes giving his look a rough, designer edge. “You like it?” he asked, turning toward her once the light gray trousers were on.

Angel turned again, this time genuinely taken aback.

Her voice softened. “It brings out your eyes.”

Joe blinked. “What?”

She stepped closer, adjusting the lay of his chain against his collarbone. “The black makes your eyes pop. You look… stupid good right now.”

He tilted his head, smiling slowly. “Stupid good?”

“Dummy good,” she repeated, placing a kiss on the side of his neck. “Like... it should be illegal for you to show up this fine without a warning label.”

He laughed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in gently, careful not to crush the volume of her skirt. “So what you’re saying is... I should be worried about you trying to drag me back to bed after the party?”

Angel gave him a faux-innocent look. “Oh, I’m not dragging you anywhere.”

Joe kissed her, slow and sweet but with that familiar heat just beneath it. When they broke apart, he whispered, “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

Angel smiled. “Let’s give them something to remember.”

She grabbed her clutch, Joe tucked his chain just so, and with one last look in the mirror—her dramatic nails catching the light like tiny chrome sculptures—they stepped out of the suite, hand in hand, ready to shut the night down again.

Together.

❀. ˚◞❤ ⃗ ೃ༄.·:¨༺༻¨*:·.❀

The rain had softened to a mist by the time Joe and Angel arrived at the Cartier-hosted after-party at Bemelmans Bar in The Carlyle Hotel. The venue, renowned for its old-world charm and timeless elegance, was aglow with the soft shimmer of Cartier jewels and the hum of jazz that filled the air.

Inside, the atmosphere was intimate yet electric, a blend of Hollywood glamour and high fashion. Celebrities like Rihanna, Halle Berry, and Bad Bunny mingled effortlessly, their laughter and conversation adding to the night's allure.

As they entered the bar, heads turned. Joe couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as Angel moved gracefully through the crowd, her presence magnetic. He leaned in close, his voice low and teasing. "You know, every time I see you, I think you couldn't possibly get more beautiful. And then you do."

Angel shot him a playful glance, her lips curling into a smile. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

They made their way to the bar, where Joe ordered a classic Old Fashioned, and Angel opted for a glass of champagne. As they sipped their drinks, they exchanged lighthearted banter, their chemistry undeniable.

"How do you do it?" Joe asked, his tone genuine. "Every time we step out, you steal the spotlight."

Angel shrugged modestly. "Just trying to keep up with you."

Their laughter was interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Well, well, if it isn't the power couple of the night."

Turning, they were greeted by Jon Batiste, who was holding court at the piano. He flashed them a charismatic grin. "You two are lighting up this place. Mind if I steal a moment?"

"Of course," Angel replied, her smile warm.

Jon leaned in, his eyes twinkling. "You know, I was just telling the crowd—if I had a dollar for every time I saw a couple as stylish as you two, I'd be able to buy this hotel."

Joe chuckled, raising his glass. "Well, if you do, make sure you get us a room with a view."

Jon laughed heartily. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep bringing that energy."

As the night unfolded, Joe and Angel continued to mingle with the who's who of the fashion and entertainment world, their bond evident to all. They shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet connection amidst the glamour and glitz.

Later in the evening, as the crowd began to thin, Jon returned to the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys. The soft strains of a familiar melody filled the air, and Angel leaned into Joe, her voice barely above a whisper.

"This night... it's perfect."

Joe kissed the top of her head, his arm around her waist. "As long as you're by my side, every night is perfect."

They stood there, lost in the music and each other, a testament to their enduring love and the magic of the evening.

The velvet walls of Bemelmans Bar glowed gold in the candlelight. Laughter clinked against the rims of crystal flutes. The scent of rare perfume and aged bourbon lingered in the air, mingling with the notes of a live jazz trio that had just slipped into a dreamy version of Let’s Stay Together.

Angel stood near one of the banquettes, her drink in one hand, her free arm looped casually over Joe’s shoulder. Her nails caught the light every time she moved—each chrome swirl reflecting a kaleidoscope of candle flames and chandelier gold.

Joe hadn’t stopped looking at her since they walked in.

And not just looking—watching. Like someone trying to memorize something sacred.

They were deep in conversation with Zoe Kravitz and Lenny S., both of whom had just praised Angel’s look. Zoe tilted her head and said, “It’s giving Harlem couture meets warrior goddess,” while Lenny pointed at Joe and said, “I ain’t gonna lie—you’re holding your own, but your wife is outdressing you.”

Joe didn’t blink. “She outdresses me every day. I’ve accepted my role.”

Angel just gave Joe a side glance, subtle but unmistakable, as she took a sip from her glass. Her lips closed around the rim with slow deliberation, and she let the silence between them stretch for just a beat too long.

Joe caught it. Oh, he definitely caught it.

When the conversation shifted and the group moved toward the piano, Angel brushed past him—lightly dragging her hand across the back of his neck as she passed. Barely a touch. Just enough to raise the hairs there. Just enough to say I know what I’m doing.

He swallowed once, slowly. Smirked. Followed.

The room buzzed with more familiar faces now. Bad Bunny, dapper in a silk emerald suit, gave Joe a nod across the room. Anya Taylor-Joy stopped Angel to compliment her nails—“They’re a whole sculpture,” she said with awe—and asked who did them. Angel was mid-response when Joe came to stand behind her again, close enough that she could feel the heat from his chest through her dress.

She leaned back just slightly, letting her shoulder brush his abdomen, acting like she didn’t notice the way he exhaled a little slower than usual.

"You're playing dangerous," he murmured low, just for her, breath grazing the shell of her ear.

Angel turned her head just a little, letting her lips nearly brush his cheek. “Only if you’re losing.”

He chuckled, and she could feel it through her spine.

They broke apart again when Daniel Kaluuya walked over, clapping Joe on the back and giving Angel a grin. “Y’all shut the whole Gala down and came here to finish the job?”

“Something like that,” Angel answered smoothly.

As they chatted, Joe reached for a fresh drink from a passing tray, handing one to Angel without even glancing. She took it, brushing his fingers with hers like it was an accident—except they both knew it wasn’t.

“You’re flirting,” he said under his breath as the others laughed at something Daniel said.

“You’re imagining things,” she whispered back.

Joe tilted his head, grinning. “Nope. I know your games.”

Angel stepped away then, but not before looking over her shoulder—slowly, over her bare shoulder—and giving him a look that held promise and warning in equal measure.

Across the room, Keke Palmer caught the glance and raised her eyebrows with a smirk. “Oooh,” she said, sidling up beside Angel. “You’ve got that I’m-gonna-ruin-him-later look in your eyes.”

Angel didn’t even pretend to deny it.

Twenty minutes later, they were seated together in a semi-private lounge near the back of the bar. Angel’s heels were kicked halfway off under the table. Joe’s arm was slung across the velvet banquette behind her, his fingertips occasionally tapping her bare shoulder.

There were no more words.

Just that tension. That heat. That growing electricity that said: we’re not staying here long.

“You ready to dip soon?” Joe asked finally, voice low and smooth, the kind of voice that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with secrets.

Angel looked over at him, lashes sweeping low. “You tell me.”

Joe leaned in, brushing his nose along her cheek, just shy of a kiss. “I’ve been ready since you walked out of the bathroom.”

She grinned. “I knew that neckline would do something to you.”

He laughed softly, eyes tracing her mouth. “It’s not just the neckline. It’s the whole damn problem.”

Angel tilted her head. “Then let’s go find the solution.”

Joe stood first, offering his hand. She slipped hers into his with a practiced ease, the whole world fading behind them as they made their way to the elevator—two people dressed like royalty, walking like they were chasing the clock.

Because some after-parties don’t happen in bars.

It started with a look.

Not loud. Not obvious. Just a glance across the room while a Cartier publicist thanked a table full of A-listers for coming. Angel caught Joe’s eyes mid-conversation with someone from GQ, and he didn’t even need to say a word. His expression said it all: You feel this too, right?

She gave the smallest nod—then tilted her head toward the far side of the bar, where a narrow hallway disappeared behind a velvet rope. He didn’t hesitate.

Like two teenagers at prom sneaking out of the gym, they slipped away—quiet, smooth, deliberate. Angel’s heels tapped softly against the marble as Joe placed a casual hand at her lower back. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. The party’s hum faded behind them, the velvet rope swinging back into place like a secret.

They found the balcony at the end of the hall—a tucked-away terrace overlooking the side of Madison Avenue. The heavy double doors groaned slightly as Joe pushed them open, and then… peace.

The chill of the spring night kissed her bare shoulders. Lights from the avenue below spilled upward, painting soft gold across her dress, making the rosettes look like they were blooming in moonlight.

Joe followed her out and quietly closed the door behind them.

Angel leaned against the railing first, letting the city breathe against her skin. “You ever notice,” she murmured, “how quiet New York can feel when you’re just high enough above it?”

Joe stepped in behind her, chest nearly touching her back. “Only when I’m with you.”

She smiled. Didn’t say anything. Just closed her eyes for a moment, feeling him there—his body heat soaking into her, the energy between them still pulsing from across the room. From all night.

When she turned around, it was slow. Intentional. The space between them was minimal—his hands found her waist, hers slipped beneath the hem of his sleeveless knit vest, fingertips brushing his warm skin beneath.

“You keep touching me like that,” he said quietly, “we’re not gonna make it back inside.”

Angel’s voice was low. Velvet. “Who said we were going back inside?”

Joe’s eyes darkened a shade, just slightly. Enough to betray the patience he was barely holding onto.

She reached up, lightly tugging on the silver chain around his neck, pulling him closer. “You’ve been looking at me all night like you wanted to fuck me stupid.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

He kissed her.

Hard at first, then slow. Then hard again.

It wasn’t polished. It wasn’t staged. It was wanting—the kind of kiss born from hours of silent teasing, fingers brushed across hands, shared glances across rooms, subtle touches that sparked like wires snapping under tension.

Angel’s back met the railing as Joe deepened the kiss, one hand coming up to cradle the side of her jaw while the other stayed firm at her hip. Her fingers slid into his curls, tugging lightly—just enough to draw a low groan from his throat.

She pulled back first, breathing shallow, lips swollen. “That’s what I thought.”

Joe rested his forehead against hers, smiling now, playful again. “You’re trouble.”

“And you love it.”

He kissed her again, slower now, and when they broke, he looked down at her—eyes soft, voice gravelly. “You’re the only part of this whole night that’s real.”

Angel exhaled, brushing his cheek with the back of her hand. “Then let’s stay here a little longer.”

Somehow, they found themselves on a balcony that overlooked a glittering city, all of New York at their feet.

It was the kind of balcony that was designed for romantic moments. The kind that was meant for kisses that made your toes curl and your heart ache and your lips go numb.

The kind of kisses that they were having right then.

Angel was pressed against the wall, Joe between her legs, their bodies flushed together, mouths moving like the world was ending. She could feel his hands under her skirt, skimming up her thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She could feel the press of his teeth against her lips, the way he kept nipping at her, like he wanted to devour her whole.

His mouth moved to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. “Fuck,” he hissed, lips moving against her throat. “I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

Angel whimpered, fingers curling in his shirt, holding him close. “Don’t stop.” She could feel every inch of him, the hard planes of his chest, the muscles of his arms. The way he was so strong and yet so gentle, like he was afraid of breaking her.

It was too hot.

It was too much.

It was everything.

Angel had never been this way with anyone before. So desperate. So hungry. So out of control.

She wanted to rip his shirt off, wanted to taste his skin, wanted to feel the heat of his body against hers. She wanted him to touch her everywhere, to fill every inch of her until she couldn’t take anymore.

Joe’s hand slipped under her skirt, fingers tracing the edge of her thong. Angel gasped, her hips jerking forward. She was so wet already, so ready for him.

“Joe,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.

“I know, baby,” he murmured against her neck. “I know.”

He pushed her thong to the side, his fingers finding her center. Angel cried out, her head falling back against the wall. He stroked her clit, his touch light and teasing, and she couldn’t help but buck her hips, seeking more.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Joe said, his voice low and husky. “You want this so bad, don’t you?”

Angel nodded frantically, her hands clutching at his shirt. “Yes, please. Please, Joe.”

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Since you asked so nicely.”

He pushed a finger inside her, and Angel cried out again, her body arching off the wall. He pumped his finger in and out of her, adding a second one, and then a third. Angel was a whimpering mess, her legs shaking, her hips grinding against his hand.

Joe leaned in, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss. Angel kissed him back with abandon, her tongue tangling with his, her moans muffled against his lips. He fingered her faster, harder, his palm grinding against her clit.

Angel could feel the tension building inside her, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter. She was so close, so close.

She just needed a little more.

“Joe,” she gasped, breaking away from the kiss. “Please. I’m so close.”

“I know, baby,” Joe murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. “Come for me. Let me feel you come apart.”

Angel cried out, her body tensing, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Joe didn’t stop, pumping his fingers in and out of her until she was limp against the railing, her body shaking with aftershocks.

He slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. Angel watched him, her eyes wide with amazement.

“You taste so good, baby,” Joe said, a wicked glint in his eye. “I could eat you out for hours.”

Angel laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Maybe next time.”

Joe grinned, pulling her close and kissing her deeply. Angel melted against him, her arms wrapping around his neck. She could taste herself on his lips, and it made her feel dirty and sexy and so incredibly turned on.

She broke away from the kiss, looking up at Joe with a mischievous glint in her eye. “My turn.”

Without another word, Angel sank to her knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe breathed, his hands tangling in her hair. “Baby, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” Angel said, looking up at him through her lashes. “Let me make you feel good too.”

She reached for his belt, unclasping it with a deft movement. She undid the button and zipper of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy, and Angel couldn’t help but lick her lips.

She took him in her hand, stroking him slowly. Joe let out a strangled groan, his hips jerking forward.

“Fuck, Angel,” he breathed, his hands tightening in her hair.

She leaned in, swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock. Joe groaned again, his hips bucking forward. Angel took him deeper, her mouth sliding down his shaft, her tongue teasing the underside.

“Shit, Angel,” Joe hissed, his hands guiding her head. “Your mouth feels so good.”

Angel hummed around him, taking him deeper with each stroke. She could feel him throbbing in her mouth, could taste the salty tang of his precum. She sucked him harder, her hand stroking the base of his cock.

“Angel,” Joe groaned, his hips snapping forward. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

Angel pulled away, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “That’s the idea, isn’t it?”

Joe let out a shaky laugh, his hands cupping her face. "As much as I love your mouth, I need to be inside you baby."

Joe pulled her up, capturing her lips in a deep kiss. Angel melted against him, their tongues tangling together, the taste of him still on her lips.

They didn’t stop.

They couldn’t.

They kissed like there was no one watching, like they weren’t two people who were supposed to be anywhere but there, like the whole world hadn’t been waiting for them to leave the party together.

Angel didn’t care. She couldn’t. Not with the way Joe’s hands were gripping her hips, pulling her closer to him. Not with the way his lips were trailing down her neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her skin tingle. Not with the way she felt like she was about to explode into flames, like every touch, every breath was pushing her closer to the edge.

“This is wrong,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“So wrong,” he agreed, his mouth moving to the hollow of her throat, sucking, nibbling. “So fucking wrong.”

She should have pushed him away. She should have stepped back. She should have remembered that they were in public, that there were paparazzi waiting downstairs, that anyone could see them.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

All she could do was feel.

His hands were under her skirt again, and this time, he wasn’t teasing. This time, he was all business. He pushed her thong to the side and slid a finger inside her without warning. Angel gasped, her back arching, her hips pushing into his hand.

“Shit,” he hissed, his finger pumping in and out of her. “You’re so tight, baby. So soaked.”

Angel could barely speak, barely breathe. She could feel everything, every touch, every sensation. She was so close to coming undone, and he had barely touched her.

“Joe,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Please.”

He added another finger, curling them inside her, hitting that spot that made her see stars. Angel cried out, her legs trembling, her body shaking. She was so close. So close.

“Please what?” he teased, his fingers stilling. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. She wanted to tell him to fuck her until she forgot her own name.

But she couldn’t form the words. Not yet. Not until he was touching her again, making her feel things she had never felt before.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “I need you. I need you inside me. Now.”

He didn’t waste any time.

He didn’t bother with words.

He just turned her so her back was against his front before bending her against the railing. Her hands gripping the cool metal of the railing. The wind caught the layered skirt of her dress, lifting it just enough to tease, just enough to spark something wicked in Joe’s gaze.

He stepped up behind her, one hand resting on her lower back, the other curling lightly around her hip. Her silhouette framed by the skyline, her spine arching with quiet intention—it was almost too much. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes daring, mouth curved in that half-smile she wore when she knew she had him undone.

Joe leaned in close, voice low, words just for her. “You really trying to test me out here?”

Angel tilted her head, the city lights dancing in her eyes. “I already know the answer.”

He chuckled, low and rough. “Yeah? What’s the question then?”

She didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

Her breath caught when his lips found her shoulder, his fingers slipping just beneath the edge of the corset’s back. His touch wasn’t rushed—never rushed—just firm enough to say you’re mine, gentle enough to say I know exactly how to love you.

For a few moments, time stopped. It was just the soft sound of the wind, the shimmer of Manhattan, and two people tangled in each other with a tension that hadn’t let up all night—and never would.

Joe pressed a kiss to the center of her spine, his hands trailing slowly down her sides. “You’re gonna get us caught out here.”

Angel’s laugh was breathless. “Then don’t take so long.”

She could feel the cold breeze against her skin, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the way Joe was grinding against her, the way she could feel how hard he was through his pants.

“Fuck,” he hissed, reaching between them to free himself from his pants. “I can’t wait. I have to have you now.”

Angel nodded frantically, her arms tightening around his neck. “Yes,” she breathed. “Now. Please.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement.

He pushed into her in one long thrust, bottoming out, filling her completely. Angel cried out, her nails digging into the metal. He was so big, so thick. She could feel him stretching her, filling her to the brim.

“Fuck,” Joe groaned, holding still, letting her adjust. “You feel so good, baby. So tight. So perfect.”

Angel couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. All she could do was feel. Feel him inside her, filling her, stretching her. Feel the way he was gripping her hips, holding her in place. Feel the way she was about to come apart at the seams.

“Move,” she begged, her hips rolling against his. “Please. I need you to move.”

Joe didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out slowly before thrusting back in, hard, deep. Angel cried out, her back arching, her body shaking. He set a brutal pace, pounding into her, filling her over and over again.

Angel couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t do anything but take him, all of him, over and over again. She had never felt anything like this before. Never.

“Shit, baby,” Joe hissed, his thrusts becoming erratic. “I’m not going to last long. You feel too good.”

Angel moaned louder, her head dropping forward.

“Fuck,” Joe growled, his pace slowing. “We can’t get caught.”

He pulled out of her, ignoring her whimper of protest. She could feel him behind her, could feel the hard length of his erection pressed against her ass. He pushed her thong down her legs before shoving it in her mouth.

“Suck,” he ordered, pressing her face against the iron railing. Angel obeyed, sucking on her underwear, her eyes wide, her breath coming in harsh pants.

“That’s it, baby,” Joe encouraged, running his hands over her ass, parting her cheeks. “Just like that.” Angel moaned around her panties, her hips bucking back against him. Joe chuckled, the sound low and dark.

“Do you like this?” he asked, pressing the tip of his erection against her entrance. “Do you like being fucked like this?” Angel nodded frantically, unable to speak. Joe leaned over her, his chest against her back, his lips brushing her ear.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I fucking love it.” He slammed into her, bottoming out in one thrust. Angel screamed against her panties, the sound muffled by the fabric. Joe didn’t stop. He pounded into her, hard, fast, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

The wet sound of skin on skin slapping drifted through the air around them along with Angel's muffled moans and Joe's groans.

Angel's knees were buckling, her body shaking, her mind foggy with pleasure.

“Shit, baby,” Joe grunted, his pace increasing. “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

Angel moaned, her body tensing, the tension inside her building, building.

“Come with me,” Joe growled, reaching around to rub her clit. “Now, baby. Come for me now.”

Angel screamed, her orgasm crashing over her. Joe thrust into her one last time, groaning her name, filling her with his release. They stayed like that for a moment, both breathing heavily, both trying to come back to earth.

They both collapsed against the railing, their bodies shaking, their chests heaving. Angel pulled her panties out of her mouth, gasping for air. Joe pressed his forehead against her back, his breathing ragged.

“Fuck,” he groaned, slowly pulling out of her. “That was…”

“Amazing,” Angel finished for him, pushing herself upright. She turned to face him, a small smile playing on her lips.

Joe slowly pulled out of her before turning her around, pulling her into his arms. He kissed her deeply, his tongue stroking hers. Angel melted into him, her arms wrapping around him tightly.

When they finally pulled away, Joe rested his forehead against hers. “Are you okay?”

Angel grinned, biting her bottom lip. “I’m better than okay.”

Joe chuckled, brushing his thumb over her swollen lips. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Angel’s eyes widened, a thrill of excitement running through her. “Oh, really?”

She licked her lips, tasting him there. “What else do you have in mind?”

He grabbed her hand and placed it over the front of his pants, letting her feel his hardness. “This,” he said, voice low and rough. “You. Again. As many times as we can make it happen.”

Angel bit her lip, her heart pounding. “And where exactly are we going to do this?”

Joe grinned, that wicked, sinful grin that made her stomach flutter. “Wherever we want. Wherever we can. I have a few ideas.”

“Oh, you do?” Angel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

Joe didn’t answer. Instead, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. Angel let out a surprised yelp, her arms wrapping around his neck.

“Joe!” she protested, laughing. “What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere more private,” Joe said, carrying her back inside. “Somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere we can do whatever we want, without worrying about getting caught.”

Angel’s cheeks flushed, a thrill of excitement mixed with apprehension running through her. She knew what they had done was wrong. She knew they shouldn’t have been together like that at least in public. But she couldn’t bring herself to care.

All she cared about was Joe. About the way he was holding her. About the way he had just made her feel.

About the way she wanted more of him. Needed more of him.

“You ready for this?” Joe asked, stopping in front of the elevator.

Angel looked up at him, biting her lip. She knew what he was asking. She knew what she was agreeing to. She knew that once she stepped into that elevator with him, there was no going back.

But she didn’t care.

She didn’t want to go back.

She only wanted to move forward.

With him.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm, her heart racing. “I’m ready.”

He carried her into the elevator, pressing her against the wall as soon as the doors closed. His mouth was on hers again, hot and demanding, his tongue sweeping inside, taking, claiming. Angel wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, holding him close as he devoured her mouth.

Angel felt like she was floating, like nothing else existed but him, his touch, his taste. She couldn’t get enough. She would never get enough. And neither would he.

92 notes · View notes

brookston · 9 months ago

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Holidays 9.19

Holidays

Aortic Disease Awareness Day

Armed Forces Day (Chile)

Arms Designer Day (Russia)

Bestselling Books Day

Biosphere Day (Australia)

Blessed Rainy Day (Bhutan)

Celebration of Labour (French Republic)

Children’s Day (Elder Scrolls)

Civil Aviation Day (Moldova)

Cosmetic Bridge Day

Day of the First Appearance of the Slovak National Council

Eleven Days of Global Unity, Day 9: Freedom

Fawlty Towers Day

Festival of Convictions (French Republic)

Frank Zappa Day (Baltimore) [also 8.9]

Hermione Granger Day

Holy Batman Day

Indra Jatra (Kathmandu Valley, Nepal)

International Aortic Dissection Awareness Day

International Athletic Training & Therapy Day

International Hop Like a Kangaroo Day

International Snakebite Awareness Day

International Talk Like A Pirate Day [ website ]

International Women's Commerce Day

Iota Phi Theta Day

Kenny Chesney Day (Tennessee)

Meow Like a Pirate Day

Mid-Autumn Festival Holiday (China)

Miners Memorial Day (Australia)

Moscow Day (Russia)

National Day of Chamame (Argentina)

National Cat DNA Day

National Ear Health Day

National Food Not Phones Day

National Jude Day

National Orthotics & Prosthetics Day (Canada)

National Meow Like a Pirate Day

National Service Day (Belize)

National Stillbirth Prevention Day

National Theater Day (Brazil)

National Woman Road Warrior Day

North Texas Giving Day (Texas)

919 Day (North Carolina)

919 mm Day

Smiley Face Emoticon Day

Thai Museum Day

Trollface Day

Visit a Sick Friend Today Day

What the Fork Day

Women’s Suffrage Day (New Zealand)

Food & Drink Celebrations

National Butterscotch Pudding Day

Popcorn Day

World Day of the Apertif

Independence & Related Days

Constitution Day (Nepal)

Hosamia (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

Meytallia (Declared; 2013) [unrecognized]

Saint Kitts and Nevis (from UK, 1983)

3rd Thursday in September

Ask An Atheist Day [3rd Thursday]

Free Queso Day [3rd Thursday]

International Day of Listening [3rd Thursday]

National Donor Recruitment Professionals Day [3rd Thursday]

National Family Business Day (UK) [3rd Thursday]

National PawPaw Day [3rd Thursday]

National Sour Beer Da [3rd Thursday] (also 9.20)y

National Teach Ag Day [3rd Thursday]

RAINN Day [3rd Thursday]

Responsible Dog Ownership Day (AKC) [3rd Thursday]

Theater Thursday [3rd Thursday of Each Month]

Thirsty Thursday [Every Thursday]

Three for Thursday [Every Thursday]

Thrift Store Thursday [Every Thursday]

Throwback Thursday [Every Thursday]

Transit Safety Thursday [3rd Thursday]

Turkey Thursday [3rd Thursday of Each Month]

Weekly Holidays beginning September 19 (3rd Full Week of September)

Sour Beer Week (thru 9.25) [Begins 3rd Thursday]

Festivals Beginning September 19, 2024

Adirondack Balloon Festival (Glens Falls, New York) [thru 9.22]

AppleJack Festival (Nebraska City, Nebraska) [thru 9.29]

Bourbon & Beyond (Louisville, Kentucky) [thru 9.22]

Clarkson Honeyfest (Clarkson, Kentucky) [thru 9.21]

Clay County Golden Delicious Festival (Clay, West Virginia) [thru 9.22]

Draft Horse Classic and Harvest Fair (Grass Valley, California) [thru 9.22]

Dwight Harvest Days (Dwight, Illinois) [thru 9.22]

Euphoria (Greenville, South Carolina) [thru 9.22]

Fantastic Fest (Austin, Texas) [thru 9.26]

The Frankenmuth Oktoberfest (Frankenmuth, Michigan) [thru 9.22]

Greek Festival (Columbia, South Carolina) [thru 9.22]

Harvest Moon Celebration (Farmington, Michigan) [thru 9.21]

Mid-South Fair (Southaven, Mississippi) [thru 9.29]

Montana Brewers Conference (Missoula, Montana) [thru 9.20]

Nappanee Apple Festival (Nappanee, Indiana) [thru 9.22]

Nez Perce County Fair (Lewiston, Idaho) [thru 9.22]

North Georgia State Fair (Marietta, Georgia) [thru 9.29]

Oktoberfest Zinzinnati (Cincinnati, Ohio) [thru 9.22]

OPA!HOMA (Tulsa, Oklahoma) [thru 9.21]

Plano Balloon Festival (Plano, Texas) [thru 9.22]

Pygmalion Festival (Urbana, Illinois) [thru 9.21]

Ravenna Balloon A-Fair (Ravenna, Ohio) [thru 9.22]

Sugar Creek Music Festival (Benton, Illinois) [thru 9.21]

Walnut Festival (Walnut Creek, California) [thru 9.22]

Wenatchee River Salmon Festival (Wenatchee, Washington) [thru 9.21]

Feast Days

Alonso de Orozco Mena (Christian; Saint)

Arthur Rackham (Artology)

Augustin Pajou (Artology)

Emilie de Rodat (Christian; Saint)

Eustochius, Bishop of Tours (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Gula (Ancient Babylonia; Goddess of Birth; Everyday Wicca)

Feast of Mato (The Bear Spirit; Lakota & Oglala Sioux)

Feast of Our Lady of La Salette (Roman Catholic; France)

Feast of San Gennaro (Christian; Saint)

Feast of Thoth (Egyptian God of Wisdom & Magic)

Feralia (Day of Purification; Pagan)

Frederick Ruple (Artology)

Ganesh Chaturthi (Indian Elephant God Festival)

Goeric of Metz (Christian; Saint)

Grape Pear Crisp Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Ingrid Jonker (Writerism)

International Forgiveness Day (Jainism)

International Talk Like a Pirate Day (Pastafarian)

Januarius (Western Christianity)

Jubilee of the Moth Moons (Shamanism)

Laurie R. King (Writerism)

Lucy (Christian; Saint)

March of the Reanimated Corpses Day (Church of the SubGenius)

Nine Ages of the Faery Kind (Celtic Book of Days)

Our Lady of La Salette (Christian; Saint)

Pablita Velarde (Artology)

Peleus, Pa-Termuthes, and companions (Christian; Martyrs)

Racine (Positivist; Saint)

Sequanus (a.k.a. Seine; Christian; Saint)

Slimey Ole Tom (Muppetism)

Theodore of Tarsus (Anglican Communion, Roman Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Church)

Trophimus, Sabbatius, and Dorymedon (Christian; Saints)

William Golding (Writerism)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Umu Limnu (Evil Day; Babylonian Calendar; 43 of 60)

Premieres

Amadeus (Film; 1984)

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, by Michael Chabon (Novel; 2000)

Away From the World, by The Dave Matthews Band (Album; 2012)

Best in Show (Film; 2000)

Block Party or The Happy Hedsman (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S3, Ep. 110; 1961)

Blue Velvet (Film; 1986)

Boardwalk Empire (TV Series; 2010)

The Book of Merlyn, by T.H. White (Novel; 1977)

Bosko Shipwrecked! (WB LT Cartoon; 1931)

Doogie Howser, M.D. (TV Series; 1989)

East of Eden, by John Steinbeck (Novel; 1952)

The Egyptian, by Mika Waltari (Novel; 1945)

ER (TV Series; 1994)

Fawlty Towers (UK TV Series; 1975)

Fine Feathered Friend (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1960)

Fishing by the Sea (Heckle & Jeckle Cartoon; 1946)

Fly, by The Dixie Chicks (Album; 1999)

Funny Girl (Film; 1968)

Goodfellas (Film; 1990)

The Good Place (TV Series; 2016)

Gossip Girl (TV Series; 2007)

Gramps to the Rescue (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1963)

Grendel, by John Gardner (Novel; 1971)

Hector and the Search for Happiness (Film; 2014)

Hobo’s Holiday (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1963)

How I Met Your Mother (TV Series; 2005)

Igor (Animated Film; 2008)

I’ll Never Crow Again (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1941)

L.A. Confidential (Film; 1997)

Lady and His Lamp (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1964)

The Mary Tyler Moore Show (TV Series; 1970)

The Maze Runner (Film; 2014)

Moneyball (Film; 2011)

Monkey Business (Film; 1931)

Oh Teacher (Ub Iwerks Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Disney Cartoon; 1927)

Pedagogy of the Oppressed, by Paulo Freire (Philosophical Book; 1968)

Pluto’s Party (Disney Cartoon; 1952)

Rhythm Nation 1814, by Janet Jackson (Album; 1989)

Scooby-Doo! Pirates Ahoy! (WB Animated Film; 2006)

Secondhand Lions (Film; 2003)

Spice, by the Spice Girls (Album; 1996)

Squirrel in the Scope of Ring Around the Rocky (Rocky & Bullwinkle Cartoon, S3, Ep. 109; 1961)

A Thousand Acres (Film; 1997)

Toy Town Hall (WB MM Cartoon; 1936)

2 Broke Girls (TV Series; 2011)

Uncle Joey Comes to Town (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1941)

Underworld (Film; 2003)

The Virginian (TV Series; 1962)

Yanks (Film; 1979)

Zipping Along (WB MM Cartoon; 1953)

Today’s Name Days

Arnulf, Igor, Jnuarius, Wilma (Austria)

Emilija, Januarije, Suzana, Teodor, Željko (Croatia)

Zita (Czech Republic)

Constantia (Denmark)

Erna, Marna (Estonia)

Reija (Finland)

Émilie (France)

Januarius, Thorsten, Wilhelmine (Germany)

Savatios (Greece)

Vilhelmina (Hungary)

Gennaro (Italy)

Muntis, Varnesis, Verners (Latvia)

Girvinas, Vilhelmina, Vytė (Lithuania)

Connie, Konstanse (Norway)

Alfons, Alfonsyna, January, Konstancja, Sydonia, Teodor, Więcemir (Poland)

Konštantín (Slovakia)

Genaro, Jenaro (Spain)

Fredrika (Sweden)

Monroe, Morgan, Morgann, Morganna, Morganne, Precious, Sawyer (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 263 of 2024; 103 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 4 of Week 38 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Muin (Vine) [Day 19 of 28]

Chinese: Month 8 (Guy-You), Day 17 (Bing-Xu)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 16 Elul 5784

Islamic: 15 Rabi I 1446

J Cal: 23 Gold; Twosday [23 of 30]

Julian: 6 September 2024

Moon: 96%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 11 Shakespeare (10th Month) [Voltaire]

Runic Half Month: Ken (Illumination) [Day 13 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 92 of 94)

Week: 3rd Full Week of September

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 29 of 32)

#calendar #Holidays

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therecordchanger62279 · 1 year ago

Text

"I Drove Slash To the Car Show"

(or "It Seemed Like A Big Deal At The Time")

I suppose we could file this post under autobiography. I don’t really do that here as a rule. Whatever I choose to reveal about myself slips out in bits and pieces in the context of other subjects. But I worked in the retail record business for close to 30 years, and my first job out of high school was as a disc jockey at a small radio station in Ohio. The radio gig was ironic, really, because I don’t have the kind of personality where I would ever want to be in the spotlight. I picked radio because I loved music, and enjoyed playing it for people. But that’s not what radio is about – certainly not now, and it really wasn’t then either.

After about 9 months, I jettisoned my radio career for retail – specifically, the records side. I worked nearly 30 years either in record stores, or in record departments of big box stores. And in the course of doing that, I had several memorable brushes with celebrity. So, I thought I’d collect them all (or as many as I could remember) in this post. After all, this is my blog, and it’s probably going to be the only thing that survives me after I die. So why not get it on the permanent record?

I should say, first, that I never worked in a big city, so the celebrities here were not always household names. But there were a few who are or were at the time. My instructors at radio school were all local disc jockeys who had programs at stations in Dayton, Ohio where I attended school. Most are likely forgotten today. But before we graduated, the school brought famous Cincinnati Reds pitcher and broadcaster Waite Hoyt in to speak to us. He entertained us with stories from his long career in baseball and radio. And we shook hands before he left.

The next name was someone I actually worked for. The radio station where I was a disc jockey was WMVR AM/FM in Sidney, Ohio. That station was owned by an Ohio native, actor Dean Miller who was a member of the cast of a popular TV series called December Bride that ran from 1954-1959. I only met the man one time, and that came near the end of my tenure at the station. He showed up one morning for a staff “pep talk” designed to scare all of us into doing our jobs better so the station could be more successful. But it was the only station in a small town, and nobody was ever going to get rich from it – not the owner, and certainly not the employees. A DJ’s pay was beneath poverty level – even by the standards of 1976. In any case, his attitude towards all of us put me off, and as I’d already been considering leaving the radio business, I figured that might be the time to make my exit. Before the month was out, I moved on.

By 1982, I was an assistant manager for the National Record Mart chain in Toledo, Ohio training at the North Towne Square Mall location. There was a musician I worked with there for just a few weeks before he exited for a very successful career as a New Age musician. His name was Tim Story, and he left the same year he released his In Another Country album for a small independent label. Five years later he was recording for New Age giant Windham Hill Records. He's still active today, has a website, a social media presence, and his discography lists 50 titles to date. I didn’t know him well, but I do remember he was a really nice guy, and I enjoyed working with him. I’m happy he was able to make a career making music.

In 1985 I became the store manager at a National Record Mart store at the Salem Mall in Dayton, Ohio. There were two factors that were key to my several encounters with musicians while I was there. First, there was a very popular concert venue just up the street from the store named Hara Arena. In the 1960s, 70s, and 80s, most of the biggest names in Rock played there when they toured the country. The other factor was that several months into my tenure there, our store became a Billboard Reporter. What that meant was that Billboard magazine called the store weekly for a list of our best-selling albums, and singles. This was during the dark ages before Soundscan was introduced, and tracked sales electronically. We got sent all the new releases, and I spoke with countless marketing companies, and record label people each week about how their product was selling.

In the course of doing that I spoke on the phone with Ozzy Osbourne. He was calling stores to promote his live Tribute album to the late guitarist Randy Rhoads. At first, I was sure someone was pranking me, but it didn’t take long to realize it really was Ozzy on the line. (He was slurring every word.) It was brief. We exchanged pleasantries. He thanked the store for its support, and I told him we all loved the album, and played it daily in-store. I also spoke on the phone several times with singer-songwriter, guitarist Carla Olson who was working a part-time gig for an L.A. marketing company while recording, and touring with her band The Textones. I’d spoken to her a couple of times before she mentioned she was a musician, and when she told me her last name, I couldn’t believe it. She was very surprised that not only did I know her name, but I already owned her band’s first album. When the second was released, she autographed a copy, and sent it to me. She later went on to a solo career, working with both ex-Byrd Gene Clark, and ex-Stone Mick Taylor. She’s still touring, and recording today. Wonderful lady.

Dayton is famous mainly as the birthplace of The Wright Brothers. But Dayton also birthed some of the best, and most famous Funk and R&B musicians in the world. I was working at the store one morning in 1986 when Shirley Murdock walked up to the counter to buy some albums. I recognized her immediately because her debut, self-titled album on Elektra was one of our best-sellers. I confess to being a bit star-struck in the moment. Not only did we play her record in-store all the time, and loved it, but she was stunning to look at. I remember saying to her, “You’re Shirley Murdock aren’t you?” She shyly nodded she was, and I told her how much we all loved her record, and how well it was selling. She thanked me, and shook my hand. She couldn’t have been sweeter, and more unassuming. No star trip happening, and no ego either.

We had company conventions every summer in Pennsylvania, and there were always acts booked to play, as well as “meet and greet” sessions with musicians promoting their latest records. I met a number of them, of course, but the two I remember very well were Lyle Lovett, and Roy Buchanan. Lovett was there for his first album release on MCA. He was very shy, and I shook his hand, and told him I knew the album would do well. He asked me if I’d heard it already, and I had because the MCA rep in our area was promoting it as if Lovett was his best pal. He was surprised, and very happy to hear that.

Roy Buchanan was signed to blues label Alligator Records, and he’d been booked to play our convention to promote his When a Guitar Plays The Blues, his first album for Alligator. I didn’t actually meet Buchanan, but I was at a party the second night of the convention, and the managers were all mingling and trading stories with one another when Roy popped his head in, and asked, “Anybody got any blow?” You could’ve heard a pin drop. This wasn’t the NY or L.A. crowd. This was a group of managers from a Midwestern record store chain based in Pittsburgh. When he realized there was none of that particular drug to be had, he quickly ducked out. Played a great set, though. Maybe he found some after all?

In the summer of 1987, the best-selling album at the store was the second album, Pride, by the American-Danish hair metal band White Lion. Their label, Atlantic called to tell us the band would be in town to play Hara Arena, and asked if we would do a wall display to help promote the record, and the show. None of us were White Lion fans, and one evening I was working with one of my part-timers, and I put up the White Lion display behind the counter. The show was the next evening. Atlantic hadn’t given us much notice, and the part-timer I was working with objected to a display for such a second-rate, no talent hair metal band. But I told her we were doing the label a favor. Business was slow that night, and she was bored, and asked me if she could deface the poster? I said no, but after she told me what she had in mind, I let her do it. The poster was a B&W photo of the band with the name, and album cover in the corner. She took a black magic-marker, and painted each member with a lion’s nose, and mouth that aped the sketch on the album cover (Google it.) It looked great, and everybody got a good laugh out of it. But about an hour later in walked two guys who were certainly musicians, and as it turned out, were members of White Lion who were already in town. Bass player James LoMenzo, and drummer Greg D’Angelo spent some time browsing, and when they came to the counter, LoMenzo spotted the poster, and said, “Hey, why’d you guys mess up our poster?” And D’Angelo started laughing, and pointed out to LoMenzo that our in-house artist had made Lions of them. The lightbulb went on over LoMenzo’s considerable mane of hair, and both musicians thought we were paying tribute to them, and thanked us. Then they had the nerve to ask us for a discount! I told them that I wasn’t allowed to do that, and since their album was in the Top 10 nationwide that I was pretty sure they could afford them without the discount.

The next act of note at the venue up the street was the latest edition of Chrissie Hynde’s Pretenders. They were touring their Get Close album, and Hynde was making headlines for firing band members. By the time they played Dayton, a couple of them had been sacked already. Again, as was our custom, we put a display behind the counter to help promote the show and the record, and pacify the label. Feeling ornery one evening, I took a paper shopping bag from under the counter, got the scissors, and cut out small paper bags, and taped them over the heads of the two members depicted on the poster who’d gotten sacked. I was pretty certain Chrissie would not be visiting our store before the show. She was probably busy learning the names of her new bandmates. But a pair of Pretenders roadies did come in the night before the show, and spotted the poster. They both cracked up laughing, but warned us that if Chrissie did happen to stop by, she wouldn’t find it at all amusing. I left it up, and we never saw her. Good thing, too. My wife and I attended the show, and Iggy Pop opened. Pretenders came on, and someone spit on the stage and just missed Chrissie. She warned those down front that there’d be no more of that, or else. I always thought Chrissie Hynde could best even a killer one-on-one. I’m glad I never tangled with her.

Before I left NRM, I was given tickets from the Columbia Records rep to see ex-Bangle Susanna Hoffs open for ex-Eagle Don Henley at Riverbend in Cincinnati. There was a post-show “meet-and-greet” arranged, and I took a couple of CD booklets to have autographed. I did meet her, and spoke briefly with her. She signed the booklets, and then another fan snapped a photo of me with my arm around her waist (she was so tiny, my arm went almost completely around her). He told me to give him my address, and he’d send it to me after he had the roll developed. Of course, I never got it, and I’m sorry I didn’t take a camera along. She was gorgeous, and I’m still a fan all these years later.

By 1991, I was already working for a small indie shop in Dayton called Gem City Records. One Sunday morning I drove to our main location downtown for some supplies before we opened, and as I was leaving, Slash from Guns ‘N’ Roses came walking into the parking lot with a female on his arm, and he asked me, “Hey! Is the store open yet?” I turned to the store manager, and said, “Dale, Slash wants to know if the store is open yet?” Dale thought I was kidding until he saw Slash come walking up. Of course, he invited him in before opening so he could shop privately. Slash asked for a particular album, and Dale told him his store was out of stock, but I mentioned my store had it, and I offered to drive to get it for him. I was back within the half-hour, and a grateful Slash signed a copy of Use Your Illusion II for me. I was just about to leave when he asked me if I knew where the car show was being held. I said it was at the Convention Center a couple of blocks over, and as I was going that way, I’d be happy to drop him, and his lady friend. He thanked me, we got in, and I drove them to the car show. That night Guns ‘N’ Roses played The Nutter Center in Dayton. I was home. I didn’t hit him up for tickets. I wasn’t really a G ‘N’ R fan, but Slash was a good guitarist, and a very nice guy. And until I sold my maroon Mazda, from that day forward, I called it “The Slashmobile.” (A postscript to the story: when Dale ran Slash’s credit card for the stuff he bought, the card was declined. But he ran it through again a few days later, and it was approved. I guess his business manager was late paying the bills. And Slash’s real name is Saul Hudson. That wasn’t common knowledge at the time.)

In 1992, Mick Fleetwood was on hiatus from Fleetwood Mac, and he put a band together with Billy Thorpe, Billy Burnette, and Bekka Bramlett called The Zoo. They played a small club here in Dayton, and I went with a friend of mine. We took CD booklets for autographs, but weren’t certain the band would be available after the show. As it happened, though, Mick, and Bekka did come out and sign autographs, and posed for pictures. (I’d have posted them here, but I don’t have digital copies.) Mick was a real gentleman, and shook my hand, and thanked us for coming. One of the CD booklets I’d brought was an early Fleetwood Mac album with Peter Green. He was delighted to see that. Bekka Bramlett was a real sweetheart, signing autographs, and posing for pictures as well. Of course, she later was a member of Fleetwood Mac for one album. And, like her mother Bonnie, she was a belter, and could really sing.

I had a couple more surprises when I managed the music department at Borders Books and Music here in Dayton. We were getting ready to open the store by September, and a couple of weeks before, we were putting the finishing touches on things, and trying to get all the stock to the sales floor. The lady corporate had sent to supervise this process (called “the sort”) was named Jill Lyon. My boss happened to mention to me that Jill’s husband was coming to town to see her, and to be sure I had everything looking good in the record department. When I asked why he mentioned that, he told me he was sure Jill’s husband would want to do some browsing. I said, “Her husband? Who’s he?” And he told me her husband was Southside Johnny Lyon of Asbury Jukes fame. I was stunned. I had no idea our Jill Lyon was Johnny’s wife. I was a huge fan of The Jukes since their debut album nearly twenty years earlier. I had all their records, so this was a big deal to me. I did, indeed, get to meet him that day, and told him how much I loved his music, and that I’d been a fan since the beginning. He was very gracious, and friendly, told me my department looked great, and wished me well.

About a year later, still managing the records department at Borders, the store featured live music in our café every Friday night. As music manager, and manager-on-duty on Friday nights, it was my job to see to it that everything went as planned. The store’s manager in charge of planning those events had arranged for Randy Newman to appear as he was on the road doing a tour of retail stores promoting his Faust album. The rider in Randy’s contract had some pretty outrageous demands. It said we had to provide a small table with cheese and crackers, and some veggie snacks as well as bottled water for him! Oh, the horror!! No star trip for Randy Newman. No bowls of cocaine, or brown M&M’s removed from the M&M’s bowl. Just cheese and crackers, veggies, and water. Randy played a great set, sat at a table, and signed autographs, and there is a photo of me shaking his hand (again, no digital copy), and getting my Land of Dreams LP signed. He was surprised to see that, and said, “A vinyl record! Don’t see these much anymore. I miss vinyl.” And he graciously signed it.

My last encounter with a celebrity came once again by phone, and happened in 2003 when my record store days were nearly at an end. I was back at Gem City Records at the downtown store here in Dayton, and due to some turnover of personnel, I was now overseeing our Jazz department. As I was doing some of the buying for that department, I would often talk either with label reps, or promo guys about new releases. One day the phone rang, and the caller asked for our Jazz buyer. Dale handed me the phone, and the voice on the other end introduced himself as Joel Dorn, founder of the Jazz label 32 Records. I said, “Wait a minute. Are you the Joel Dorn?” And he said, “I am. Have you heard of me?” And I replied, “Of course. There isn’t a serious Jazz fan in the world who doesn’t know your name or your work.” He thanked me, and then proceeded to tell me about the new releases his label was releasing. It was a genuine honor to speak with this legend who’d worked with The Allman Brothers Band, Bette Midler, Max Roach, Herbie Mann, Mose Allison, and Rahsaan Roland Kirk among others, and won two Grammy Awards for his work with Roberta Flack. I was genuinely saddened when I heard he’d passed away just four years later.

All of these encounters were memorable ones, and nearly all of them make nice memories. I miss the record business. It was a great job while I had it, and I shudder to think what kind of drab work history I might’ve had if I’d gone down a different road. I guess I should’ve had kids so I’d be able to tell my grandchildren that I drove Slash to the car show.

#celebrity encounters

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partyround · 2 months ago

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Why Cincinnati Bounce House Rentals Are a Must for Outdoor Parties

Outdoor events are a great way to bring people together, especially when you're planning a kids birthday party in Cincinnati. One of the easiest ways to keep children entertained and active throughout the day is by adding bounce house rentals to your party setup.

Bounce house rentals Cincinnati families love bring energy, excitement, and endless fun. Whether you’re hosting in your backyard or at a local park, these inflatables instantly grab kids’ attention and keep them bouncing with joy. Cincinnati bounce house rentals come in many shapes and sizes, so it’s easy to find something that fits your space and party theme.

When you search for a bounce house near me or bounce house rental near me, you’ll find reliable local options that offer delivery and setup, making the entire process simple. That way, you can focus on decorating, preparing snacks, or just enjoying the moment.

Looking to add even more excitement? Water slide rentals are the perfect addition on warm days. Kids will love cooling off as they slide and splash around. Pairing water slides with a bounce house Cincinnati kids already enjoy takes the party to the next level.

Inflatable rentals near me often include a variety of designs—from classic bounce houses to more adventurous layouts like obstacle courses. Whether you’re hosting ten kids or fifty, there’s an inflatable rental that’s right for your event.

Bounce houses near me also bring value beyond just fun—they keep kids moving, socializing, and fully engaged. That’s especially helpful during birthday parties, where entertainment is key to a successful celebration.

So the next time you're planning an outdoor event, consider Cincinnati bounce house rentals, inflatable rentals, or even water slide rentals. They’re easy to set up, fun to use, and help turn an ordinary party into a celebration everyone will remember.

Party Go Round

Address - 64 Hummingbird Way, Amelia, OH 45102

Phone - (513) 570-5383

Email - [email protected]

Website - https://www.party-go-round.com/

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cincinnatisolar · 2 months ago

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Solar Cincinnati - Paving the Way for a Solar-Powered Future

Solar Cincinnati is a locally owned and operated solar installation company that specializes in providing high-quality, customized solar energy solutions to homeowners and businesses in the Cincinnati area. The company is committed to making solar energy accessible and affordable for everyone, with a focus on customer education, expert installation, and long-term system performance.

One of the key ways Solar Cincinnati supports its customers is by guiding them through the solar incentive process. The company’s team of solar experts helps homeowners and businesses understand the various incentives available, including the ITC, SRECs, net metering, and utility-specific rebates, and assists with the paperwork and application process. This level of support ensures that customers maximize the financial benefits of going solar and have a smooth, hassle-free experience. Reach out today for experience the difference or visit website at Solar Cincinnati!

In addition to helping customers take advantage of incentives, Solar Cincinnati also provides professional solar system design and installation services. The company uses high-quality solar panels and other equipment to create tailored solar solutions that meet the specific energy needs of each customer. Whether it's a residential rooftop installation or a larger commercial system, Solar Cincinnati has the expertise and experience to deliver reliable, efficient solar energy systems that help customers save money and reduce their environmental impact.

Ohio’s solar incentives, combined with the expertise and services offered by Solar Cincinnati, are helping to make solar power an affordable, sustainable, and accessible option for many Ohioans. With these incentives and local support, the state is well on its way to creating a cleaner, more energy-efficient future. Whether you are a homeowner looking to lower your energy bills or a business aiming to reduce your carbon footprint, now is the perfect time to explore solar energy in Ohio.

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webstrategyplus11-blog · 2 years ago

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5 Reasons a Company Website Isn’t Optional: It’s a Necessity to Survive and Thrive

While starting a small business can be a very rewarding experience, that doesn’t mean that it’s without challenges. Because there’s no shortage of obstacles that can stand in the way of small business success, it’s important to give yourself every advantage possible. One of those very important advantages is to have a website. Since people spend so much time searching online, not having a website means that you’re missing out on the opportunity to connect with a lot of potential customers.

To understand exactly why having a website is a necessity for any small business that wants to succeed, let’s go over four different specific benefits:

Protect Your Reputation

Good online reviews of your business can really help it flourish. Unfortunately, it only takes one negative review to undermine all the other good things that have been said about you. The good news is if you have a website, you can publish content on it that is specifically designed to help make any online negativity about your business less visible.

Increase Customer Loyalty

When you have a website, it’s easy to add a sign-up form so people can give you their email address. Depending on your specific type of business, you can then send the people who sign up anything from a bi-weekly newsletter to coupons. The key takeaway is regardless of what you decide is best to send, as long as it provides value, it will help to increase customer loyalty.

Attract Highly Targeted Traffic from Google

Although we touched on this in the opening paragraph, it’s such an important topic that it’s worth discussing in detail. When people use Google to search for a specific keyword phrase, they’re basically saying exactly what they need at that time. So if your website appears in the list of results that show up and the searcher clicks your link, there’s a very good chance that they’re going to want to do business with you.

Serves as a Hub for Social Media Promotion

There’s a lot of value in using social media to promote your business. The one caveat is in order to maximize results, you need a central hub where you can drive traffic from all the different social sites you use. By having a website, accomplishing that goal will be quite easy to do.

Your Website Needs to Be Visible in Google

As you can see from several of the benefits above, small businesses will only gain those things if they not only have a website but have a website that shows up in Google. While making your website visible in Google for relevant searches may seem like some kind of magic, the reality is it simply requires an effective marketing strategy. So whether you already have a website but need to increase visibility, or you want to have a website built that is fully search engine optimized, your best option is to work with an experienced design, development and marketing agency.

#SEO Marketing Agency Cincinnati #Website Design Cincinnati #Website Development Cincinnati OH #Social Media Marketing Cincinnati

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cincinnati1bounce · 2 months ago

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Make Your Celebration Unforgettable with Bounce House Rentals Cincinnati

When it comes to hosting a lively and engaging event, bounce house rentals Cincinnati are a perfect addition. Whether you’re planning a birthday party, school event, or community gathering, a bouncy house ensures hours of entertainment for kids and even adults. The excitement and energy a bounce house brings make it a must-have attraction for any celebration.

The Joy of a Bounce House Rental Cincinnati

A Cincinnati bounce house transforms any space into a fun-filled environment where children can jump and play safely. The vibrant colors and exciting themes add an extra layer of excitement, making your event stand out. Plus, a bouncy house rental Cincinnati provides an excellent way for kids to stay active while having fun.

In addition to bounce house rentals, a water slide rental is an excellent option for those looking to add a refreshing element to their party. Perfect for warm-weather events, a water slide rental keeps guests cool while delivering an adrenaline rush with each slide.

Benefits of Renting a Cincinnati Bounce House

Engaging and Fun: A bounce house near me provides non-stop entertainment, ensuring kids are happily engaged throughout the event.

Safe and Secure: Quality inflatables are designed with safety features such as mesh siding and cushioned landings.

Easy to Set Up and Take Down: When you choose a bounce house rental near me, professionals handle the setup and removal, making your planning process stress-free.

Versatile for Any Occasion: Whether it’s a family reunion, school festival, or community event, a bouncy house rental Cincinnati fits every celebration.

Finding the Right Bounce House Rental Near Me

When looking for a bounce house rental near me, it’s important to choose a provider that maintains clean, high-quality inflatables. Ensuring proper sanitization and durability is crucial for the safety and enjoyment of all guests.

Whether you're searching for a Cincinnati bounce house or a water slide rental, incorporating inflatable fun into your event guarantees an unforgettable experience. Explore the available options and bring excitement to your next celebration with a top-quality bounce house or water slide rental!

Cincinnati Bounce

Address -m 8569 Donegal Dr, Cincinnati, OH 45236

Phone - (513) 999-5867

Email - [email protected]

Website - https://cincinnatibounce.com/

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reversedout-blog · 1 year ago

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How To Build A Successful Customer Loyalty Program For Your E-Commerce Business

Renowned e-commerce websites can deliver a steady income. Nevertheless, selling on your website has the possibility to produce repetitive business from devoted customers and nurture your brand. A customer loyalty program is an excellent way to earn the recurrence business of your clients and shape a strong bond that can develop into brand loyalty and even referrals.

What Are Loyalty Programs Used by E-commerce Store Owners?

An e-commerce loyalty program is a purchaser retaining technique pitched toward keeping and fetching the attention of existing customers, so they will purchase in more quantities, shop more often, or interact with your brand more often. The best programs are convenient, show a clear path to higher benefits, and offer a fun practice!

The world of e-commerce sales is generally categorized by high buying frequency and equally good churn rates. Many businesses believe that customer loyalty no longer happens, and use profound discounts to distinguish by giving different methods. Nevertheless, this limitless value war has familiarized customers to search for the best price-cutting, which has made brand loyalty even tougher to accomplish.

New upcoming e-commerce loyalty programs can create a dedicated public around your brand, by helping you be prominent in the following ways:

A new buying process, to make an online shopping impression whole

Incentivized customer reporting, to generate richer data and increases other marketing actions

Practical rewards and VIP profits, to increase the total customer lifetime worth

Special clubs, to build groups and underline individuality

Enticing social media competitions, to boost word of mouth and build faith

Why is a Customer Loyalty Program Crucial?

Here are some typical motives why cultivating a customer loyalty program is important:

Devoted clienteles are keener to spend their money with the particular brand because they support communication and make orders.

78% of loyal customers are ready to spread the word to their friends and family. The common customers who have experience with a brand will have information about the quality of products and service, so they would like to exchange the information with their acquaintances.

90% of consumers prefer endorsements representing that Word-To-Mouth marketing is one of the most influential marketing strategies.

It always is more expensive to get a new customer than to retain existing ones. Hence, maintaining a connection with a present customer is less expensive than capitalizing on the new one. The following makes are important for any e-commerce business:

Assist in Boosting Sales

Business owners implement loyalty programs to improve customer preservation while consumers appreciate loyalty programs because they get added enticements and prizes. Consequently, using loyalty programs in marketing strategy provisions e-commerce businesses to encourage customers’ buying and increase revenue significantly at a given time.

Increase Customer Loyalty

Loyalty programs serve a two-fold purpose, pointing to both groups of consumers. Firstly, loyalty programs inspire new clients to be around after purchases are made. Secondly, with prevailing customers, loyalty programs ensure they are still being flattered as valued regulars.

Improves Consumer’s Experience

Applying a loyalty program is an elusive note to your existing and new customers that your business is not only concerned about earning money from each purchase but also would like to bring paybacks to customers to maintain a good association.

Support Market Research

Beginning diverse loyalty programs can be the method to conduct, explore and learn more about customers’ intentions. Through this method, you will see the kinds of incentives and rewards which are tempting to consumers. Depending on which, you can attach the rewards suitably to increase its sales, or even you can develop a separate product based on the idea.

Pay to Customer Division

A very interesting benefit of loyalty programs is helping businesses segment clients and discover profitable and unprofitable among them. In one aspect, loyalty programs help stores find a type of consumer who only buys products with a discount rate. The type of customers nearly generates no profits for the store. Therefore, store owners can concentrate on directing toward profitable customers.

How to Build Customer Loyalty in 7 Simple Steps:

Customer loyalty isn’t something that happens without deliberate effort. Here are 7 steps to build customer devotion.

Know Your Audience

To promote customer loyalty, you’ll need to get private with your clientele. Learn their names, their needs, and their buying ways. Treat each one as a person, not as just an additional remunerative way. To start with, on a customer’s birthday, you could send them a tailored birthday note with a special deal. You should also send them emails you know would precisely appeal to them.

The marketing team should focus on truly getting to know their customers so they can anticipate their needs, resolve their problems, and bring quality results worthy of a referral. By taking the time to understand the customer – maybe they need more space for remote learning, a roomy place to fit an increasing family you can provide better references and help make their lives comfortable by bringing their vision to life.

For your consumer to have faith in your brand, you’ll have to share evidence about yourself and your business. For example, keep them updated on any business news before it’s out in the press, and don’t be terrified to admit to rough patches. This will help customers see the humanity of your brand, making them more contented about doing business with you.

Introduction of a Loyalty Program

A customer loyalty program is a good way to inspire and recompense loyal customers. These methods characteristically have standards for rewards (like the buyer must spend X sum every month), but the paybacks for the customer usually balance these conditions.

There are various types of buyer loyalty programs, such as credit card methods, punch cards, and point systems. What they all have in common is the enticement for customers to spend more money on your products or services.

Contemplate Starbucks, for instance. When you connect loyalty program, you get points each time you buy an item from its menu. When you reach a converted number of stars, you get a free buying. This helps clients feel right in their purchases, as they are working toward a prize, they might not get somewhere else.

Referral Program

Like a loyalty program, a referral program plunders customers for their visit to a particular e-commerce store. In this case, customers obtain certain paybacks if they refer your company to a friend or loved one. This not only helps entice new buyers (referral marketing is both effective and reasonable) but also keeps your present customers coming back for more, as they now have enticements to do business with you.

Play to Your Strengths and Values

What does your business do best? What are your exclusive offerings? What do you worth most? Your answers to these questions will help you define your brand, which is an important part of enticing loyal customers. To categorically connect with buyers, you have to stay factual about your brand and focus on what you do best.

Be a continuous in your market a business that consumers can always depend on to deliver. They say, fixing the broken things is always difficult. Unless you are having distress appealing to and recalling customers, don’t switch your products or service to become partial as a brand. In its place, stay as trustworthy to your occupation as you’d want your customers to be.

Make the Best Use of Social Media

Social media is a great way to shape healthy relationships with your clients. In fact, if you aren’t present on social media, many consumers will observe you as questionable. It’s vital to have a business presence on various social media platforms as your audience is always connected with social media and your existence is required to gain their confidence.

Sharing internal information about your brand and products or services, as well as building relationships with your followers, will create a powerful online community that inspires clients to come back for more. The companies you regularly do business with and how they present themselves on social media, talk a lot about the brand. Do their posts reflect their aim to viewers? Does their brand line up with their reflected ethics and offerings? Do they participate with their visitors in a faithful manner?

Boost Customer Feedback

To show your customers how much you are worth to them and how you are eager to continuously improve, request their feedback. Release surveys, request email reviews, and be open to the feedback you obtain. Customers are more willing to invest in businesses that have space for their suggestions and perceptions. It’s not enough to say you care about the client but rather device customer feedback and market it to them as a symbol of your devotion. To nurture their loyalty, you must be faithful to them initially.

Take your customer feedback very seriously, use that feedback to grow your business, and then let them know that they are being heard and apply solutions to give them a better understanding and assurance. It’s important that when you are following their suggested ideas to let them know that you are listening and are ready to make developments.

Stock Customers’ Data

Industries that store purchaser data make it easier to analyze and forecast more efficiently for future strategies. For example, you could allow members to produce an account on your mobile app or website that securely stores their shipping and expense information for quick buying. That way, they have fast access rather than having to re-add their credit card info whenever they want to make a purchase.

Consider reputed e-commerce stores, for instance. Major membership purchasers can make orders by merely selecting “buy now” under the anticipated product. User-friendliness like this can possibly inspire regulars to make frequent purchases from your e-commerce store.

Various Kinds of Customer Loyalty Programs:

Points Program

This program is probably the most convenient method in e-commerce stores and is also liked by clients. The concept of this method is easy, if you spend more, you will get more points. Every time a buyer makes a purchase at your e-commerce store, they will get a certain number of points depending on the total order value. These collected points can be transformed into specific prizes, which could be money or gifts.

Referral Program

Why hunt down new clients all by yourself when your devoted existing clients can help do that for you more effectively?

You can give incentives to devoted regular customers to become promoters by offering them a striking prize for client referrals. Research shows that 75% of clients are more probable to endorse your brand if it has a good loyalty program. This means that if your proposal is good enough, clients will be happy to take the time to spread your business to other possible clients like friends, family, neighbors, etc.

Good Cause Programs

Serving back to the community is good by being just human and is similarly good for businesses. A great way to substitute customer loyalty is to offer additional paybacks for shopping with your e-commerce store, for instance, doing a greater good like helping NGO or any associated organization like UNESCO or American Red Cross. Good Cause Programs like planting trees for every purchase can be very enticing for a purchaser who is more cautious about environmental conservation. Mindful consumers will think exceedingly of your business and will spread the word about these programs because of their selfless nature.

The Membership Program

Similar to the idea of a loyalty program, there is a sense of extravagance or exclusiveness when a business introduces VIP incentives. By announcing a VIP membership program, clients are invited to subscribe to your company’s email or SMS in exchange for improved product collection or user-friendliness. Not only will your clients be more attracted to your novel offerings, but they’ll get notices each time they check their email or phone messages.

The Tier-level Program

This method is a more fun-filled and charming way to build loyal clients. What about swaying your customers to be on your loyal member list by inducing them with numerous badges or level selections? It certainly is intriguing! This method is trailed by marketers. They set up the program at different levels and prize badges on the attainment of levels providing rewards after passing some basic levels.

The Community Program

Community programs are extremely effective for businesses as they can entice local clients. In the last year, it’s common to see how an e-commerce store can impact its clients when it makes itself a way to connect with users. Some samples are family-owned gyms offering Zoom classes to make customers feel more included or having bakeries pop up in local flea markets. These are steps businesses can use to build client loyalty and social bonding as well.

The Subscription Program

To understand the fact that the subscription method is one of the best customer loyalty programs that offer no concessions or coupons, rather the users are made to purchase the service for a definite time duration that they require the service. The subscribers have to pay for the subscription package they are choosing for. Having a strong willingness to join you for a definite time shows the brand loyalty of customers too.

The Reward Card Program

The easiest way to build loyalty to an e-commerce store method and maintain it is by having a Reward Card-based program. People also mention this program as a Spend program. The simple work behind this idea is offering reward cards to the clients for their promoted shopping involvement. Like, the company works together with various banks to run loyalty e-commerce plans. Customers of certain banks having Debit or Credit card transactions are constantly provided with offers.

The Game-based Program

Games-based loyalty programs are full of fun substitutes to keep your buyer’s adrenaline rush eventually promoting you. For example, by organizing game events in regular periodic intervals or a sequence with level-up aims. Such games can be hard to plot initially. It keeps the inspiration level high amid competitive clients.

The Hybrid Program

This loyalty program is the collection of two or more buyer loyalty programs combined into one. For instance, the most common method of having a hybrid loyalty program is the gathering of points and rewards plans with a level-based program.

The Bottom Line

E-commerce businesses must understand the benefits of customer loyalty which is essential for business growth. It needs to be nurtured through constant energy and dedication while at the same time, sustaining the customer’s requirements and making them feel valued. The fact is that loyal clients are the foundation of constant revenue as they will not only shop but also bring new clients to your brand. By leveraging the aforementioned strategies, you can increase your sales figure.

If you have any questions about incorporating loyalty programs into your business, feel free to contact us.

At Reversed Out Creative, we understand the challenges and opportunities presented by AI disruption. Our team of experts specializes in web design, SEO, graphic design, and digital marketing services. Reach out to us through our contact form to learn more about navigating the evolving job market and embracing the potential of AI. Together, let’s shape a future that combines human ingenuity with the power of AI.

Content source: https://reversedout.com/customer-loyalty-program-everything-to-know/

#Customer Loyalty Program #E-Commerce Web Development Company #E-Commerce Web Design Company Cincinnati #Website Development Services In Cincinnati

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