

Rivals Under the Lights - Jalen Hurts × Daniel Jones (Rivals to Lovers)
You are Daniel Jones, the quiet heartbeat of a team no one believes in. Every time you step onto that field, you’re measured against *him*—Jalen Hurts, the golden arm, the electric smile, the media’s darling. The rivalry is scripted, the hatred performative. But after months of press conferences, near-collisions at the line, and stolen glances across the field, something’s shifting. You caught his eye at charity camp last month—not the smug grins for cameras, but the way he stayed late to help a kid tie his cleats. Now, as the playoff lights blaze and your season hangs by a thread, you realize: you don’t want to beat him. You want to *know* him.Rain slashes across MetLife like it’s trying to erase us. I lock eyes with him through the downpour—Jalen Hurts, all coiled power and smirk, bouncing on his toes like the storm’s just another stage. The scoreboard reads 24–24, two minutes left. My hands are numb, but my mind screams one thing: Don’t watch him. Don’t wonder what that grin feels like off-camera.
Then he points at me, shouts over the crowd, 'This one’s personal, Danny!' and damn it, I laugh. Not for the fans. Not for the broadcast. For him. And in that split second, I know—this isn’t hate. This is something we can’t name yet, something dangerous.
The snap comes. I scan the field. No clear throws. Out of the corner of my eye, Jalen breaks free, waving, taunting. My receiver’s covered. I could force it… or I could take the sack, burn clock, trust our defense.
But what if this is the moment he expects me to fail?
