50% Aries Bullshit, 49% What The Fuck, 1% Dumbass

"Yeah. Twenty. Everyone wants the redemption angle. Joe's first championship shot since 2022."

Y/N's stomach tightened. 2022. The year she'd watched Joe lose the biggest game of his life while she documented it from a professional distance, loving him quietly while he grieved with someone else. This time would be different. This time, she'd be right there with him, whatever happened.

"Where's Tyler?" she asked.

"Setting up the conference room. Jess is downstairs managing the media circus that's apparently starting at 7 AM now." Sam paused. "You nervous?"

"I'm… focused," Y/N corrected. "And maybe a little nervous. The team's worked so hard this season."

Before Sam could respond, Tyler appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand and the slightly frazzled expression of someone who'd been fielding media requests since dawn.

"Morning meeting in five?" he asked. "I've got the content calendar pulled up, and we need to discuss interview logistics before the facility gets crazy."

"Perfect timing," Y/N said, saving her work and closing her laptop. "Sam, bring those credential requests. Tyler, please tell me you're caffeinated."

"Triple shot," he confirmed. "Figured I'd need it."

As they headed toward the conference room, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from her brothers' group chat:

Lucas: SUPER BOWL WEEK. Holy shit.

Matt: Don't screw this up for Joe.

Aaron: She's a professional asshole. Don't screw this up for YOURSELF.

Y/N smiled despite her nerves, typing back quickly:

Y/N: Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll try not to ruin anyone's career.

The conference room felt smaller than usual, with content calendars spread across the table, camera equipment stacked in the corner, and the weight of the week ahead pressing down on all of them. Y/N took her seat at the head of the table, looking at her small but capable team.

"Okay," she began, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "Let's be real about what this week is. We've got five days to cover the biggest game any of us will probably work. Everyone's going to want access, everyone's going to have opinions, and about half of the questions are going to be about things that aren't football."

"No pressure," Jess muttered, earning a small smile from Tyler.

"There's always pressure," Y/N said, opening her notebook. "Tyler, you're handling quarterback interviews and features. Jess, you've got a supporting cast, including line, receivers, and backs. Sam, you're on logistics with me."

Tyler scribbled notes on his tablet. "What about the personal stuff? The relationship questions?"

Y/N had been dreading this all weekend. "Standard response: personal life provides stability and support, keep it general, redirect to football. If anyone pushes, I'll handle it."

"And if they want shots of you two together?" Jess asked.

"They won't get them during work hours," Y/N said. "This week is about Joe the quarterback, not Joe the boyfriend."

Sam nodded. "Smart."

Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from Joe:

Joe: Team meeting in 20. You coming?

She looked at the message for a moment before responding:

Y/N: Yeah, heading down in sec.

Joe: Good. Need my VP there.

Y/N looked up to find her team watching her.

"That was Joe," she said unnecessarily.

"We figured," Tyler said. "Team meeting?"

"Twenty minutes." Y/N closed her notebook and stood. "Questions?"

"Just one," Sam said, gathering her papers. "You ready for this?"

Y/N considered the question honestly. "Ask me Saturday."

* * *

Kayla was already going through the schedule when Y/N walked into the conference room. Joe sat a few seats down from her, scrolling through his phone with that restless energy he got during big weeks.

"Okay, Wednesday is media day," Kayla said, pulling up the schedule. "Joe, you've got six interview slots. The longest one is ESPN at forty-five minutes."

Y/N took her seat at the table, pulling up her notes on her tablet.

"We can break it into segments if you want." Kayla mentioned, consulting her notes. 

"No, I'd rather get it over with." Joe ran a hand through his hair. "What about the personal stuff? They're going to ask."

"Standard deflection," Kayla said. "Personal life provides support, redirect to team preparation. Y/N's drafted some talking points."

All eyes turned to Y/N, who lowered tablet. "The basic approach is to acknowledge the question, give a brief positive response, and pivot to football. If they push, you say you're keeping focus on the game this week."

Joe nodded. "What if they ask about you specifically?"

Y/N felt the room's attention shift slightly. "Same approach. 'She's great at her job; I'm focused on mine.' Don't elaborate."

"Good," Joe said, then looked at Kayla. "What about photo ops? Team stuff only, right?"

"Right. No couples shots during work hours," Kayla confirmed. "Y/N will be working anyway, so it shouldn't be an issue."

"Logistical question," Sam jumped in from across the table. "Transportation to media day? Joe's taking the team bus or separate?"

"Team bus," Joe said without hesitation.

Y/N smiled slightly while taking notes. That was pure Joe, always thinking about how things looked to his teammates.

"Timeline question," Tyler said, scrolling through his tablet. "We need quarterback availability for our internal content. When works?"

Joe looked at Kayla, then at Y/N. "When do you need me?"

"Thursday morning?" Y/N suggested. "After the official stuff but before practice."

"Done." Joe's response was immediate.

The meeting went on for another twenty minutes, covering schedules, backup plans, and logistics. Y/N jotted down notes, her mind already organizing the week ahead.

"Questions?" Kayla asked as things wrapped up.

The room was quiet, everyone already mentally organizing their week.

"Alright, let's make it a good week," Kayla said, closing her laptop.

As people filed out, Joe lingered, checking something on his phone. Y/N packed up her things, aware he was waiting for the room to clear.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, moving closer.

"Good. Ready." He looked up at her. "You?"

"Same." She leaned down and kissed him quickly. "See you at lunch?"

"Yeah. Love you."

"Love you too."

* * *

Game Day

Y/N stood on the sideline, camera raised, heart hammering against her chest as the clock ticked down. Twelve seconds. The Bengals were up by four, but she'd seen too many games flip in the final moments to feel safe. Around her, the media crew buzzed with nervous energy, but Y/N kept her focus through the viewfinder.

Joe was in the huddle, calm as ever, his voice carrying over the crowd noise as he called the play. Even from fifty yards away, Y/N could see the controlled intensity in his shoulders and the way he held his head. She'd documented this exact posture hundreds of times over seven years, but never with stakes this high.

The teams lined up. Y/N adjusted her position, making sure she had a clear shot of Joe. Her brothers were somewhere in Joe's box behind her. Lucas had texted her a photo of them twenty minutes ago, all wearing Bengals gear, all looking more nervous than she'd ever seen them. For seven years, they'd watched her love this man from a professional distance. Today was finally different.

The snap. Joe took the ball, dropped back, and immediately took a knee. The crowd erupted, but Y/N kept shooting, capturing the exact moment Joe stood up and raised both arms. Game over. Super Bowl champions.

Confetti cannons exploded from every corner of the stadium, orange and black streamers falling like snow. The sideline erupted into chaos, players running in every direction, coaches hugging, officials trying to maintain some semblance of order. Y/N lowered her camera for just a second, letting herself feel the moment. They'd done it. Joe had done it.

Then she raised the camera again because this was her job, and she was good at it.

Through her lens, she watched Joe get mobbed by his teammates. Ja'Marr lifted him off the ground, screaming something Y/N couldn't hear over the noise. Tee was jumping up and down like a kid. The offensive line had formed a circle around Joe, all of them pointing at him and yelling.

But then Joe stepped back from the celebration, his head turning, scanning the field. Y/N's heart stopped when his eyes found hers across the chaos. Even with fifty yards and about two hundred people between them, she felt that look.

Joe started walking toward her.

Y/N raised her camera again, muscle memory taking over as her professional brain kicked in. This was content gold, the Super Bowl MVP walking across the field, pushing through the celebration, confetti in his hair, the biggest smile she'd ever seen on his face. She kept shooting as he moved, tracking him through the viewfinder.

A reporter stepped into Joe's path, microphone extended. Joe said something Y/N couldn't hear, shook his head politely, and kept walking. Another reporter tried the same thing. Same result.

"Burrow! Burrow!" someone was shouting from the media area, but Joe didn't even look over.

Ted grabbed Joe's jersey, trying to pull him into a celebration selfie with fans in the stands. Joe laughed, said something to Ted, and pointed toward Y/N. Ted looked, grinned, and let him go.

Y/N kept shooting. Through her lens, she watched Joe navigate around a camera crew, step over cables, and dodge a sideline photographer who was backing up and not watching where he was going. His focus never wavered. He was walking to her like she was the only person in the stadium.

Another group of teammates caught up to him, the entire defensive line, all trying to lift him up for a group celebration. Joe laughed and let them hug him, but when they wanted to carry him toward the team bench, he shook his head and pointed again. This time toward Y/N.

She was still shooting, still capturing everything, but her hands were starting to shake slightly. Not from nerves from the realization that in his biggest moment, when everyone in the world wanted a piece of him, Joe Burrow was walking straight to her.

More people tried to stop him. A league official with a clipboard. Someone from the broadcast crew. Another reporter. Joe was polite to all of them, but he didn't stop moving. Y/N tracked him through the camera, watching him push through the chaos with the same determination he showed in the pocket under pressure.

Thirty yards away now. Twenty.

Joe's uniform was dirty from the game, his helmet long gone, his hair messy from teammates running their hands through it and sweat. But his eyes never left Y/N's, even as she kept the camera between them, still working, still shooting, still doing her job even though her heart felt like it might explode.

Ten yards.

"Y/N!" someone called behind her, probably Tyler or Sam, trying to get her attention for something work-related. She didn't turn around.

Five yards.

Joe stopped right in front of her, close enough that she had to lower her camera to look at him properly. His chest was rising and falling quickly, whether from the game, the excitement, or the walk across the field; she couldn't tell. But he was grinning like she'd never seen before, and there were actual tears in his eyes.

"Baby, you did it," Y/N said, and her voice came out smaller than she'd intended.

Joe reached for her, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer. "I literally could not have done this without you," he said, and his voice was rough with emotion.

Y/N let her camera hang from the strap around her neck and threw her arms around him. Joe lifted her off the ground, spinning her once before setting her back down, and when he kissed her, she could taste the Gatorade and sweat and pure joy.

Around them, the celebration continued, players screaming, confetti still falling, and music blasting from the stadium speakers. But for just a moment, Y/N felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"Y/N! Y/N!" The voice was more insistent now, and Joe pulled back, still holding her, as a league official approached with a clipboard and a stressed expression.

"We need him for the trophy presentation," the official said apologetically.

Joe looked at Y/N, then back at the official. "She comes with me," he said.

"Sir, only team personnel—"

"She is team personnel," Joe said firmly. "VP of Digital Media. She's been documenting this whole story for seven years. She comes with me."

The official looked at Y/N, then back at Joe, clearly recognizing that this wasn't a fight worth having with the Super Bowl MVP.

"Of course," he said. "Right this way."

Joe took Y/N's hand. "Come on," he said and pulled her toward the center of the field where they were setting up for the trophy presentation.

As they walked together through the mayhem, Y/N caught sight of the big screen showing a replay of Joe's walk across the field to her. In Joe's box, she could see her brothers on their feet, Lucas pointing at the screen, all three of them losing their minds.

Seven years. Seven years of loving him from behind a camera, of documenting his story while staying carefully outside of it. But now, walking across the Super Bowl field with Joe's hand in hers, Y/N finally understood what it felt like to be in the story instead of just recording it.

And it was better than she'd ever imagined.

* * *

The Celebration

The party venue was packed wall-to-wall with players, coaches, staff, and families, everyone riding high on the excitement of their first championship. Y/N stood near the bar with a champagne flute she'd barely touched, watching Joe work the room like the natural leader he'd become. He had the Lombardi Trophy tucked under one arm and was taking photos with what seemed like every person in the building.

"Still can't believe we're here," Lucas said, appearing beside her with his own drink. Her three brothers had flown in for the game, all of them still riding the high of watching their sister's boyfriend win his first championship.

"I can," Y/N replied, watching Joe laugh at something Ja'Marr said. "He's worked for this his whole life."

"Yeah, but you being here with him?" Matt joined them, gesturing around the room. "Five years ago, you were texting us from that other Super Bowl, crying because you had to watch him lose with someone else."

"Thanks for the reminder," Y/N said dryly, but she was smiling.

"I'm just saying," Aaron added, the youngest brother always the most direct, "this is your championship, too. You earned this."

Y/N felt her throat tighten slightly. She'd spent so many years on the outside, looking in, documenting other people's celebrations and moments. Tonight, she was part of it.

Earlier, when Coach Taylor had pulled her into a group photo, he'd just said, "Y/N, get in here. You've been with us since the beginning." Not "our media coordinator" or "Joe's girlfriend." Just Y/N. Like she'd always belonged.

Tee Higgins hugged her and said, "Thank you for keeping our boy sane all these years." As if she were part of the team, not just someone who worked for it. Her five years of careful professional distance hadn't fooled anyone about how much she cared.

She kept expecting someone to hand her a camera, to ask her to document the moment instead of living it. But her hands were empty except for champagne, and for once, she wasn't responsible for capturing anyone else's joy.

Across the room, Joe caught her eye and grinned, holding up the trophy and pointing at her. She laughed and raised her champagne glass in response. Even from thirty feet away, she could see the exhaustion starting to creep into his face, but he was still going, still making sure everyone felt celebrated.

"You know he's not showing off the trophy, right?" Lucas said quietly, watching the exchange. "He's showing off you."

Y/N felt her throat tighten. "Don't make me cry at this party."

"I'm serious. Look at him."

"Like you're the real prize," Matt added.

"And that he's got plans for later," Aaron joked.

"Oh my god, you're all disgusting," Y/N muttered, but her cheeks flushed.

The truth was, she'd been thinking the same thing. There was something in Joe's eyes tonight, an intensity that went beyond just winning the Super Bowl. Every time their eyes met across the room, she felt the promise of how they were going to celebrate privately once they were alone.

"Y/N!" Kayla appeared with a group of staff members, all of them slightly drunk and very excited. "We need pictures! Team leadership!"

An equipment manager she'd worked with for three years told her, "You know, we always wondered when you and Joe would figure it out. You two just... fit." Like everyone had been watching a story, she thought she'd kept hidden.

The offensive coordinator's wife hugged her and said, "I'm so happy for you both. We could all see how much you cared."All these people had been watching her love Joe from a professional distance, and somehow, that felt less embarrassing than she'd expected. More like they'd been rooting for her all along.

When she posed for a photo with the coaching staff wives, someone said, "Finally! You're always behind the camera."And Y/N realized that's exactly how it felt like she was finally stepping out from behind something that had kept her separate, kept her safe, but also kept her from fully living her own life. She kept catching glimpses of Joe across the room, and every time she looked, he was already looking back.

Finally, around 11 PM, Joe made his way over to her. He'd set the trophy down on a nearby table and looked more relaxed than she'd seen him all night.

"Having fun?" he asked, sliding his arm around her waist. 

"Yeah. Weird, not working for once."

"You like it?" 

"I could get used to it." Y/N leaned into him slightly. "You look tired."

"I'm not tired," Joe said, his voice dropping slightly. "I'm just thinking about getting you home."

Y/N felt heat pool in her stomach at his tone. "Joe..."

"We've been here two hours," he said, his thumb tracing circles on her hip through her dress. "I think we've done our social obligation."

Y/N looked around the room. The party was still going strong and would probably go on until 2 AM or later. Her brothers were deep in conversation with some offensive linemen about something that involved a lot of hand gestures. Everyone was having a great time.

"You sure you want to leave? This is your night."

Joe's hand tightened on her waist. "This is our night. And I want to celebrate it properly."

The way he said "properly" made Y/N's knees feel weak.

"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's go home."

Joe grinned. "I'll call the car."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were sliding into the back of a black SUV, Y/N having said goodbye to her brothers (who gave Joe looks that clearly meant "take care of our sister"), and Joe had done one final round of thank-yous and see-you-laters.

The moment the car door closed, the energy between them shifted. They weren't touching, but Y/N could feel the heat radiating off Joe's body next to her in the dark backseat.

"How long to get home?" Joe asked the driver.

"About twenty-five minutes with traffic, sir."

Joe nodded and settled back in his seat, but Y/N caught him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She was very aware of her dress riding up slightly, of the way Joe's hand rested on the seat between them, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his fingers.

"So," she said, trying to sound casual, "Super Bowl champion. How does it feel?"

Joe turned to look at her thoroughly, and the expression on his face made her breath catch. "You'll find out soon enough."

The ride home felt like the longest twenty-five minutes of Y/N's life. They made small talk about the game, the party, and her brothers, but underneath it all was this current of anticipation that had Y/N shifting in her seat. Joe's hand eventually found her thigh, his thumb tracing patterns on her skin that made it hard to concentrate on anything he was saying.

By the time they pulled into their driveway, Y/N felt like she might spontaneously combust.

Joe thanked the driver and came around to help Y/N out of the car, his hand lingering on hers longer than necessary. They walked to the front door in silence, but Y/N could feel the tension crackling between them.

Joe fumbled slightly with his keys, and Y/N smiled. "Smooth."

"Shut up," Joe said with a grin, finally getting the door open.

* * *

The moment they were inside with the door closed behind them, Joe's hands were on her. He pressed her back against the door, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was hungry and desperate and tasted like champagne and victory.

"Finally," he muttered against her lips, his hands working at her zipper.

Joe pulled the dress down, and it pooled at her feet. He stepped back to look at her, his eyes dark.

"Fuck," he said quietly.

Joe stepped in close, his thumb dragging slowly along the edge of her underwear like he wasn't in a hurry, even though everything about his posture said otherwise. His gaze swept down and back again, deliberately. Possessive in that quiet way, he always was.

"You've been a problem all night," he muttered, voice low and rough at the edges.

Y/N tilted her head, almost smiling. "Problem?"

"Yeah. Seeing you walk around all night like that, looking like that, knowing you're mine now. Watching everyone finally see what I see. My team looking at you like they're proud. People treating you like you belong with me instead of just working for me."

Y/N tilted her head. "What are you gonna do about it?"

He bent and kissed her jaw, messy, open-mouthed, not careful.

"Show you."

The laugh caught in her throat, half amusement, half breathlessness as he dipped his head lower, mouth finding the side of her neck.

"Joe…"

He smiled again, but he didn't look up. Just mouthed at her throat, thumbs brushing bare skin where her underwear sat too low on her hips.

"Let me see you," she said, her hands already pulling at his shirt.

Joe let her pull it over his head. Y/N's hands moved up his chest, around his shoulders, pulling him down to kiss her again.

"Come on," she said, pulling him toward the couch.

When they got there, she looked at him. "Remember the first time we did this here?"

Joe's eyes darkened. "You took care of me."

"Yeah, well. This time's different." She pushed him down onto the couch. "This time we won."

Joe leaned back, looking up at her. "And how are you going to take care of me now?"

Y/N dropped to her knees between his legs, hands moving to the button of his jeans. "Let me show you."

Joe's breath hitched, quiet but there, his hand flexing on the couch cushion next to his thigh like he was holding himself still.

When she tugged his jeans and boxers down far enough, he shifted automatically to help, no words exchanged, no hesitation.

Y/N's fingers wrapped around him, firm but unhurried.

Joe exhaled through his nose, eyes heavy-lidded now, head tipping back just a little as she leaned in—slowly.

She didn't tease. Didn't say a word.

Just… took her time.

And Joe let her.

His hands stayed at his sides at first, shoulders tense, fingers flexing on the cushion like he was trying to let her lead like he was holding himself back on purpose.

But the second her mouth closed around him, all that control cracked.

His hand slid into her hair immediately, not rough, but heavy like he couldn't help it. Like he needed the anchor.

Joe didn't speak. Just breathed hard through his nose, jaw tight, eyes on her like she was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

Y/N worked him slowly, steadily, and intentionally. Her thumb slid just beneath, her wrist turning at the top, her tongue dragging deliberately at the underside as she set the pace.

Joe's thighs tensed under her hands, his hips shifting, barely, but enough. Enough that she knew.

He muttered something under his breath, not articulate, just a sharp sound that hit low in his throat as he sank back further into the couch.

"Jesus," he finally managed, voice rough now, breaking. "Baby… fuck."

But he didn't stop her.

Didn't try to take back control.

Didn't even move, except for his grip tightening a little more in her hair like he needed that to stay grounded.

Y/N looked up then, eyes meeting his, and that was it.

His breath stuttered hard, chest rising fast now. His jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

"Yeah," Joe muttered, low and almost to himself. "Yeah… just like that."

His breath hitched again when she hollowed her cheeks just slightly, fingers tightening at the base.

"Shit—" Joe's hips twitched, restrained but instinctive, his thighs flexing under her hands now.

Y/N didn't break eye contact.

That alone seemed to wreck him more than anything else.

His head dropped back, mouth falling open, breath rough and uneven now.

She could feel the tension in him, how tight he was holding, how close. His grip on her hair tightened, less grounding now, more guiding.

"Fuck… baby—" His voice cracked again, sharp and ragged, a warning without actually telling her to stop.

But she didn't.

She kept going, slow but unrelenting, thumb sliding at the base with every stroke, tongue dragging precise, perfect.

His body jerked once, thighs tightening hard, breath catching sharp.

Then it broke.

Joe swore again, low and desperate, hips lifting just enough that she knew he couldn't hold it back any longer.

His hand in her hair flexed tight as he came, rough, the sound he made half-groan, half-breathless laugh, wrecked but soft at the edges, like he couldn't believe her, couldn't believe this.

Y/N stayed there.

Held him steady through it, hands smoothing over his thighs like a tether as his chest rose fast and uneven.

His grip loosened only when he finally exhaled all the way, head tipping forward, eyes heavy-lidded now quiet and undone.

For a second, neither of them moved.

His hand slipped from her hair, fingers brushing her cheek as he caught his breath.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, slow and easy, eyes still on him.

Joe let out a breathless laugh, rubbing a hand over his face, then down his chest, like he was trying to come back to himself.

"You good?" she asked, voice low but even, that little half-smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Joe met her gaze then, completely relaxed for the first time all night, eyes soft, jaw loose, a quiet kind of wonder there.

"Yeah," he said finally, voice rough but steady now.

Joe's breath evened out just enough before he leaned forward, hand slipping under her chin to tilt her face up.

"Come here," he said, voice still low and rough.

Before she could move, he was pulling her into his lap.

Y/N laughed quietly, caught off guard but letting it happen.

Joe’s hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair as he kissed her. Deep. Slow. Messy.

"Your turn," he murmured against her mouth.

He shifted, lifting her easily, setting her back on the couch where he'd just been. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her without saying another word.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of her underwear, dragging them down slowly, like he was already savoring it.

When he settled between her thighs, he didn't look away.

Just ran one hand slowly up her thigh, watching her the whole time, mouth brushing just above her knee before dragging higher.

Y/N's breath hitched when his mouth finally replaced his fingers.

Joe didn’t say anything. No smirk. No commentary.

He just locked in.

His mouth was hot and sure, tongue dragging over her slow, deliberate.

Y/N's fingers slipped into his hair fast, grip tightening almost immediately, hips shifting before she could stop herself.

He didn’t let up.

He was determined to return the favor thoroughly and without distraction.

Her thighs trembled when he slid his hands up to anchor her hips, holding her exactly where he wanted her, not giving her room to shift away.

The only sound in the room now was her breathing, uneven and loud in the quiet, and the occasional sharp exhale from Joe when she pulled too hard at his hair.

Joe kept going.

If anything, the longer he stayed there, the more precise he got, adjusting pressure exactly when she needed it, tongue dragging and circling, lips sealing over her just right.

Her head tipped back, breath catching as she gasped his name — and Joe’s hands just locked in tighter.

"Yeah?" Joe muttered, voice low, rough against her skin. "You like that?"

He didn't wait for an answer, just dragged his mouth over her again, slower this time, tongue flattening as he worked her precisely the way she needed.

Her breath hitched hard, hips stuttering under his grip, but he kept her right where he wanted her.

"Fuck—" she gasped, fingers twisting tight in his hair now.

Joe smiled then, that quiet, smug smile she felt more than saw, before closing his mouth over her again, the pace just steady enough to undo her completely.

Her thighs trembled under his hands, her breath coming quick now, uneven, sharp.

Joe kept going, unhurried, exactly how she needed.

When her fingers tugged harder at his hair, his grip on her hips tightened to match, holding her still, anchoring her when her body was starting to slip away from her.

"Joe—" she gasped, voice already breaking.

He glanced up just long enough to catch her eyes, dark and sure.

"Let go," he said simply. Low. Rough. Confident.

That did it.

Her back arched hard as it hit, breath catching, hips jerking once before he pinned her back down, steady, unrelenting, working her through every second of it.

Her fingers slipped from his hair, her body going slack even as her thighs kept shaking against his shoulders.

Joe didn't pull back right away, just pressed a last slow kiss to the inside of her thigh, a deliberate drag of his mouth that felt both soft and possessive.

When he finally looked up at her, he was already smiling, that same quiet, crooked smile that said he knew exactly what he'd just done.

Joe sat back on his heels, hands still resting on her knees, thumbs brushing over her skin like he wasn't quite ready to let go yet.

Joe stayed there for a second, just looking at her, wrecked and sprawled and still catching her breath.

Then he leaned forward again, hands sliding up her thighs, grip tightening as he nudged her legs apart a little wider.

"Yeah," he said, voice low, rough. "Not done."

She watched him, a lazy smile playing at her lips, still too breathless to say anything.

Then he moved, fast pushing himself up from his knees and stepping out of his jeans completely.

His gaze didn't leave hers as he climbed onto the couch, crowding into her space, one knee between her legs as he settled over her.

The air felt heavier now — familiar but charged.

Joe's hands slid to her hips, thumbs brushing skin as he shifted lower, lining himself up.

When he pushed in, it was slow but deep, and the sharp breath he let out hit right at her ear.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice low, jaw tight, head dipping as he sank all the way in.

His forearm braced next to her head, the other hand sliding under her thigh, lifting it just enough to get her exactly where he wanted her.

He didn't move at first; he just stayed there, fully inside her, breath coming rough, eyes locked on hers.

His mouth brushed hers once, almost a kiss, almost not before he started to move.

Slow at first. Deep. Every push was deliberate, dragging just enough to pull another quiet gasp from her throat.

Joe's breath stayed rough against her skin, his jaw tight, eyes half-shut but still locked on her. 

One hand slid under her thigh again, lifting just slightly so he could angle deeper so she felt every inch.

"Jesus, Y/N…" he muttered, voice breaking on her name.

His pace stayed steady, each thrust hit right, his grip firm on her hip now, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, low and sharp, hips snapping a little harder in response.

"Yeah?" he murmured, breath hot against her neck. "That what you want?"

She couldn't answer; her breath was gone, her back arching under him, but it didn't matter. He could feel it.

Joe kept going, rhythm tightening just slightly as she started to unravel again, her legs tightening around his waist now, pulling him closer.

Her nails scraped lightly at his back, and he hissed, pace stuttering once like she was undoing him right along with herself.

Her breath hitched sharp, fingers tightening at the nape of his neck, thighs trembling again.

Joe felt it and didn't let up.

"That's it," he whispered, voice raw now. "Come on."

Her whole body tensed under him and then gave out all at once a breathless, broken sound catching in her throat as she came, hips jerking up to meet his even as she fell apart.

Joe cursed under his breath, rough, ragged, and chased her right over the edge, pace snapping hard as his grip locked tight at her hip, head dipping low against her neck as he followed.

Joe didn't move right away.

Just stayed pressed to her, breath still rough, forehead tucked against her shoulder like he needed a second to come back to himself.

"You okay?" Y/N asked quietly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back.

"Yeah." Joe lifted his head to look at her, his eyes still soft. "Last time we were here like this, I was falling apart. You put me back together."

Y/N smiled. "And now?"

"Now we're celebrating." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Feels like we finally got it right."

"Took us long enough."

"No shit."

"Come on," he said quietly.

Y/N took his hand and let him pull her up. Joe headed to the kitchen for water while she went to the bathroom; both of them moved with the easy rhythm of people who had done this countless times before.

When Joe came back with two glasses, Y/N was already pulling back the covers. They settled into bed together, Y/N automatically curling into his side, her head finding its usual spot on his chest.

"Good night, champ; I love you," she murmured against his skin.

Joe's arm tightened around her. "I love you too. I'm glad you're here," he said quietly. "I'm glad I get to celebrate this with you."

"Always."

* * *

Y/N sat at the kitchen table with her laptop, scrolling through last night's footage. She had the 2022 Super Bowl loss pulled up on one side of her screen, Joe's celebration from last night on the other. Her coffee had gone cold an hour ago.

She was lost in the editing when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Joe appeared in the kitchen, hair messy from sleep, wearing just sweatpants and looking more relaxed than she'd seen him in months.

"Morning," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before moving to the coffee maker.

"Morning. How'd you sleep?"

"Like the dead." Joe poured himself a cup of coffee and refilled her mug. "What are you working on?"

"Just putting together some highlights." Y/N gestured at her screen. "Thought it might be good to show the journey. Then and now."

Joe leaned over her shoulder, watching the split screen. On the left, his face after losing in 2022 - hollow, disappointed. On the right, last night's celebration, pure elation, confetti in his hair, the biggest smile she'd ever captured.

"Jesus," he said quietly. "That's quite a difference."

"Five years," Y/N said. "A lot can change."

Joe was quiet for a moment, still watching the footage. "Seven years ago, you started documenting a story," he said finally. "Did you think it would take this long to get the ending right?"

Y/N looked up at him. "I didn't think I'd be in the ending. I thought I'd just be the one recording it."

Something shifted in Joe's expression. He straightened up, running a hand through his hair.

"Give me a second," he said, already heading toward the stairs.

Y/N nodded, turning back to her laptop. She assumed he was using the bathroom or getting dressed. She kept editing, pulling her favorite shots from the night  Joe lifting the trophy, his teammates mobbing him, the moment their eyes had found each other across the field.

She was so focused on the work that she didn't hear Joe come back downstairs until he cleared his throat behind her.

"Y/N."

She turned around and froze. Joe was standing there holding a small black ring box, and her brain completely short-circuited.

"No fucking way," she squeaked, her hand flying to her mouth.

Joe's nervous expression broke into a grin. "Yes fucking way."

Y/N stared at him, then at the box, then back at him. "Joe, what—"

"I've been thinking about this since we got together," he said, moving closer. "But I got the ring a few months ago when I knew we were going to make the playoffs. When I knew we had a real shot at this."

Y/N's eyes were wide, her heart hammering in her chest. "Joe..."

"The timing feels right," he continued, his voice steady despite the nerves she could see in his shoulders. "Morning after we won everything. Just us. No cameras, no crowd, no pressure. Just... us."

He opened the box, revealing a simple, elegant ring that was so perfectly her taste it made her chest tight.

"I want you in every frame of my life," Joe said quietly. "The victories and the defeats. The championships and the heartbreaks. All of it, together."

Y/N felt tears starting to well up. "Are you seriously proposing to me right now?"

"I'm asking you to marry me," Joe said, his voice soft but certain. "I'm asking you to be my partner in everything. Forever."

Y/N looked at the ring, then at Joe's face - hopeful and nervous and so full of love it took her breath away.

"Yes," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes, of course, yes."

Joe's relief was immediate and overwhelming. He pulled the ring from the box with slightly shaking hands and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

"How did you know my size?" Y/N asked, staring at her hand in wonder.

"I may have stolen one of your rings a few months ago," Joe admitted with a sheepish grin. "Sam helped."

"Sam knew about this?"

"Sam helped me pick it out. She said you'd hate anything too flashy."

Y/N laughed, wiping at her eyes. "She was right."

Joe pulled her up from her chair and into his arms, kissing her soft and deep and full of promise.

"I love you," he said against her lips. "My fiancée."

"I love you too," Y/N said, then pulled back to look at her hand again. "Holy shit, we're engaged."

"We're engaged," Joe agreed, grinning like an idiot.

Y/N looked at the ring, then at Joe, then at her laptop screen, still showing the split footage of his loss and victory.

"So this is what it looks like when you get everything you never thought you could have," she said softly.

"This is what it looks like when you finally get it right," Joe corrected, pulling her close again.

Y/N closed her laptop, the 2022 footage disappearing from view. That chapter was over. This was their beginning.

She pulled out her phone, holding it up to capture them both - Joe with his messy hair and a huge smile, her with tears still drying on her cheeks, and the ring catching the morning light.

"Our first photo as an engaged couple," she said, taking the selfie.

Joe looked at the picture over her shoulder. "Perfect," he said. "Absolutely perfect."