#nfl imagines

[babygirlburrow]

Ride Me - Joe Burrow

A/N: YAY! Joe smut, Joe smut, Joe smut! I have been needing this man in a biblical sense recently, and then the other day I had this thought of couch sex, fingering and riding him (the working title of this fic was 'couch sex' until I decided on a proper title lol), so this was born from that. I hope you enjoy!

WC: 4.5k (I said this may be short... I lied)

Warnings: Sexual content, MDNI! 18+, this contains very little plot and a lot of smut. Fingering (f receiving), riding, cock warming if you squint, Joe is a pro at aftercare, she rides him... it's a fun time!

The thing about sexual tension with you and Joe is… it doesn’t often sky rocket out of nowhere.

Over the course of your relationship, it’s become a thing where sometimes, days can go by where lingering touches go unnoticed, you hold each other’s gaze for just a second too long to be just a glance and kisses become charged without going anywhere. 

It’s not even anyone’s fault. He’s tired from the season, you’re busy at work — recently, the days just haven’t had enough hours for the two of you to go further than heated kisses before bed. Sex is an important part of your relationship and both of you very much enjoy it, but you also want to make sure that you have the energy to make it a special, rewarding experience for both of you. 

Tonight, though, there’s been tension simmering since the second he came home from the facility. When you turned around from cooking dinner and saw him standing there, leaning against the counter wearing a black Bengals hoodie and grey sweats… you were done for.

And the worst thing is, he can see it in your face. It’s written in the way your eyes immediately darkened at the sight of him, the way your mouth went slack like you were about to literally salivate over him. 

He smirked, almost imperceptibly to anyone else but plain as day for you to see, and approached you to rest two hands on your hips the second you were within arm’s reach.

‘Hi baby,’ he’d said. 

You were too overcome with thoughts that had no business being released to the general public that you couldn’t speak.

All you could do was lean up to kiss him and hope that he could feel how badly you needed him through your lips melting against his. 

Dinner has passed. The dishwasher hums softly in the background, around halfway through its cycle. It’ll probably finish before you go to bed but it’s become an unwritten rule that whoever gets up first in the morning is responsible for unloading it. 

You’ve showered and changed into soft lounge shorts and one of Joe’s old LSU shirts. Once you’re downstairs, you find Joe sat in the corner of his sectional couch, film playing on his tablet with his notebook next to him. The closer you get to him, the more handsome he looks. 

Blonde hair falls over his eyes as he tilts his head down to the tablet. His huge hands make the pen he’s holding look like a child’s crayon. A white shirt stretches over his enormous shoulders. The material is thin enough that as you approach, you can see the faint outline of his spine through the back. He’s relaxed in a way that only the off season can provide. Shoulders looser than they are during the peak stress of the season. Hands flowing more as they note down routes, covers and drives from various teams. 

He senses you before you even come into his peripheral vision. His head turns just as you pass next to him, then a soft smile appears on his lips when he sees you. 

‘There she is,’ he murmurs softly with a chuckle as you plop down next to him. 

‘Hey Joey,’ you reply. He briefly holds his pen in his left hand to allow his right hand to squeeze your knee, then picks his pen back up to continue writing. His handwriting isn’t neat, but legible enough for you to make out some of his notes.

Watch for safety rotation.

Corner play bites on action. 

Left tackle drifts wide.

There are circles. Arrows. Little diagrams that make no sense to you but are like Joe’s second language.

Your head tilts as you continue to try and make out more of the notes and reminders to himself. It’s moments like these where you forget that you’re not just dating Joe, the guy who watches nature documentaries, willingly participates in self-care Saturdays with you and listens to audiobooks on the drive to work. You’re also dating the quarterback who’s played in a Super Bowl, been compared to a ‘stone-cold killer’ and leads the offence of the Cincinnati Bengals. 

Joe sees you looking, sees you reading, and smiles to himself.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asks quietly as he looks down at you. The scratching of the pen pauses as he makes another note about audibles. 

You smile up at him.

‘I’m thinking about how my boyfriend gets tackled by three-hundred pound men for a living.’ He laughs at that. Then you point to a diagram near the top right of the page. ‘What does this mean?’ 

He looks at it for a moment. It’s a small drawing, no bigger than a quarter, little X’s and O’s with arrows branching out in a few different directions. Then he explains how each letter correlates to a player, how each arrow refers to a different route and what that means for him.

You huff out a sigh that tells Joe that you’re more impressed than you’d like to let on. Football was a completely new thing to you when you and Joe first met, and you’re still getting used to the insanity of the sport. 

‘This sport is a conspiracy theory.’ 

Joe chuckle again at your deadpan remark.

‘I’ve not heard that one before,’ he chuckles. His arm drapes across your shoulders and the two of you turn your heads to look at each other. 

There it is again, you realise with a rush of blood to your cheeks. That unspoken spark of something unspoken that rushes between you. 

‘A very cool conspiracy theory,’ you admit, almost breathlessly. You’re trying not to give yourself away, trying not to distract him… 

But everything he does makes fireworks fizz in your stomach. Heat pools low in your stomach and you have to squeeze your thighs together as you slowly start to clock the dampness in your underwear. 

The smirk on his face tells you that unfortunately, he’s clocked you. Just like always.

You shuffle away from him, far enough away that you’re still within touching distance but not close enough that your shoulder isn’t resting against his arm. Even the feeling of his skin on yours, warm and soft, is enough to make your brain go fuzzy. 

Joe continues to look at his film, but he’s also watching you out of the corner of his eye. You scroll TikTok with the volume as low as it can go. Every so often, you exhale a little puff of air out of your nose at a particularly amusing video or comment. 

You’re cool. You’re calm. 

You are totally not thinking about your very warm, very handsome boyfriend sat less than three feet away from you. You are absolutely not thinking about his fingers, currently holding a pen, that you would much prefer sliding down the front of your shorts. And there’s absolutely no way you’re thinking about his grunts and the feeling of the delicious stretch you always feel as you slide yourself down onto him.

Five minutes of silence pass.

Ten minutes of agony. 

Fifteen minutes of you losing your mind as he mutters to himself about coverage and yards and safeties.

He’s been muttering to himself for a while, but you’re so zoned out, trying to keep your thoughts to PG-13, that you don’t realise he’s asked you a question until you clock the fact that the same TikTok video has played multiple times with no reaction from you. No laugh, no scroll, no nothing. 

‘Baby.’ 

The single word fires through your brain like a lightning bolt. You turn your head to look at him, too fast to play it off casually.

‘Yes, Joe.’ 

‘I asked if you’re okay.’ There’s the smallest suggestion of a smirk on his lips as he asks the question again. 

‘All good,’ you reply quickly. Too quickly. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ 

He shrugs, raising his eyebrows, smirk growing in size. 

‘Because the same video played four times and you didn’t even react.’ 

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, trying to think up a reasonable explanation for this. 

Nothing comes to your mind. Your brain, usually overactive and supplies plenty of thoughts, is completely void of anything but how much you need him. Your thighs are already shaking. You know that if he were to feel your groin even through your shorts, he’d be able to feel the dampness of your folds through your shorts. It’s cold against your thighs, slick and a constant reminder of how badly you need him. 

Joe decides that enough is enough. He reaches forward to turn the tablet off and throws the notebook and pen onto the coffee table, then reaches across to wrap his arms around you. 

‘C’mere, you,’ he grins at your yelp as he picks you up with no effort at all. ‘Been ignoring my girl for too long.’ 

A moment later, you’re sat on his lap. Your knees dig into the couch on either side of his hips as you straddle him, with your arms moving instinctively to lock around his neck. 

You look up at his face. His eyes, normally a piercing blue, are dark grey in the low light of the room. His pupils are blown. Jaw set, tight with concentration, but it’s not film he’s concentrating on anymore.

It’s you. 

You’re taking up his entire focus. You’re all he can think of right now. 

‘Talk to me, sweetheart. What do you need.’ 

You blink up at him.

‘What — I don’t — Joe…’ You babble uselessly. 

Joe chuckles darkly and leans in to kiss your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. His lips trail kisses along your jaw, up to your ear, brushing its shell as his voice lowers to that deep, throaty timbre he keeps at the back of his throat for these exact moments. 

‘Don’t lie to me,’ he murmurs. ‘Tell me what you need.’ 

His hands grip your waist, fingers kneading the soft skin of your ass. Your lips find his once more as you instinctively rock your hips into him, slow, gentle but deliberate enough that you quickly start to feel him hardening beneath his sweatpants.

The effect is immediate. Almost comical, really. 

He groans and tips his head to the back of the couch with a filthy grin. 

‘You asked me what I needed, Joe,’ you mumble against his lips. ‘I need you. Right now.’ 

You pull back from the kiss just enough to look at him. Both of your lips are red and swollen and your breaths punch out in desperate gasps. His eyes are dark, hooded with desire. 

‘Please, Joey.’

Those two words are enough for him to finally move one of his hands from your ass, around your thigh to your knee. His fingers trail up the skin on the inside of your leg, painfully slow, enough to make you whine in anticipation. He looks up at you, smirking because he knows what you need. 

‘Patience, baby,’ he murmurs up at you. From your position of being straddled across him, you’re just above his eye-line, meaning that for once in his life he has to look up at you. 

‘Joey,’ you whimper. The last syllable is elongated, making him chuckle. ‘I said please.’ 

His huge shoulders shake with another soft laugh at your neediness. 

‘Such a good girl, being so polite.’ 

Your body is already reacting to every slight touch, every trail of his fingertips against your skin. The higher they go on your thigh, the more you react, whimpering his name as anticipation curls in your stomach. 

When his fingers slide under the waistband of your shorts and finally find you, he hisses at the feel of your slick coating his digits, swearing under his breath at the effect he has on you. His breath fans hot and heady against your face in between kisses.

His fingers expertly work your clit, thumbing, pressing and swirling to make you gasp out his name into his neck. Your body arches into his all over again, but this time the movement is frantic. Staccato from just how sensitive your body is. You make a sound that’s half yelp, half moan, as your head falls to rest against his shoulder. 

Joe’s other hand tucks your hair behind your shoulder, as it’s fallen over your shoulder and he knows you hate when it gets in your face. 

The room is quiet. The only sounds are your occasional breathless gasps and moans, and the obscene wet sounds from you as his fingers bring you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s cresting. Fast. The coil is tightening already, that addictive feeling of your high accelerating towards you. You’re so desperate for it that your hips rock back and forth, seemingly of their own accord, riding his fingers in search of your climax.

You’re close. He can feel it in the way your thighs start to tremble around him. 

‘Close already, baby?’ He smirks at you. You shove his shoulder weakly, too blissed to put any proper weight behind it.

‘Shut up, Burrow,’ you whine, making him laugh. The kiss he gives you when his lips find yours once again is hungry and deep. Both of you tilt your heads for more access to each other.

Your face scrunches in pleasure and your head tilts back, far enough that he moves his hand to cradle the back of your neck to keep your balance on him. 

‘Stay with me, baby, I’ve got you.’

You whimper again as the high comes crashing towards you.

‘Joe — I’m—’ 

‘Let go for me, honey,’ he murmurs into your ear. ‘Let me hear you.’

Then, finally, without another warning, it hits. You rock into him, almost collapsing on top of him with a muffled yelp of his name as the coil snaps, sending a wave of heat pulsing through you. Moans tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. The intensity of it is almost overwhelming. 

He watches you with a smug grin. Both of his hands grip your waist and hold you close enough to him that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. The aftershocks vibrate through your entire body and you feel the need to hold onto him, arms looped around his neck to brace yourself against his huge form. 

For a few moments, there’s quiet. Proper quiet, the kind that envelops a room after something intense has happened. Your breathing slowly starts to even out as you breathe him in. He moves one hand to slide under your shirt. The feeling of his palm, warm and large, on your skin makes electricity crackle through you all over again. 

You still need him, you realise. Your body craves more. You crave him in ways that you don’t feel confident enough to say, so you lift your head to look at him. 

His eyes are dark grey in the low light of the room when they meet yours. Your fingers comb through his hair and tuck the strands that have fallen loose behind his ears. He kisses you, soft and gentle. 

‘Need more, sweetheart?’ He asks quietly. 

At first, you’re taken by surprise at just how well he knows you, at the way he knows when you need more without you even saying so, but then you smile and nod.

‘Yeah,’ you reply with a kiss to his cheek. 

He beams, then taps your thigh.

‘Shorts off, baby.’ 

You obey without a second thought and move so you’re standing up in front of him. It only lasts a few seconds, during which you kick off your shorts and toss them to the side while Joe shimmies his sweatpants down his thighs, but your body screams in protest at the lack of contact with him. It only ceases when you sit back down on his lap.

Both of you groan at the feeling of your core, still soaking and slick, rubbing against his swollen cock. It slaps against his shirt, causing pre-cum to dribble onto the fabric. You shift slightly so your hips are raised off him, and he takes his cock in one hand and holds it steady to line it up with you. The other of his hands braces one of your hips to guide you down, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. 

‘Ready?’ you ask quietly, face barely more than a few centimetres from his. 

He just nods in response. He’s too overwhelmed with need for you that he can barely form a coherent sentence. 

And then you’re sinking yourself down onto him. He groans, loud enough for the sound to echo around the dark room, and his head tips to the back of the couch at the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You mimic his groan with one of your own at the stretch, at the feeling of him inside you. 

‘Fuck, sweetheart — tight.’ It’s barely more than a grunt from him. He’s breathing heavily, chest heaving with exertion at the sensation of you fluttering around him.

The sensation takes your breath away every time, but especially from this angle. He’s completely bottomed out inside you, enough that you can feel his balls at your core. The stretch is delicious, big enough to make your walls quiver around him but not so big that it hurts. 

‘Joey…’ 

‘I know, baby.’

Both hands are on you, now. One on your back, sneaking under your shirt again, the other on your hip. You tilt towards him and hiss as the change in angle causes his cock to hit that spot inside you. 

He smiles knowingly.

‘There?’ 

It’s your turn to nod. Your arms are still looped around his neck and your fingers start to play with the soft hairs at the nape, absently grounding you without you even realising what you’re doing. 

You turn to look at him properly, both of you stealing sweet, short kisses as you sit on him and keep him warm.

‘I love you,’ you say, because it seems important to say it now. 

He beams up at you and kisses you again.

‘I love you too, sweetheart. So much.’

The two of you sit there for what might be a few seconds but what could easily be several minutes, your arms looped around his neck while his hands move up and down your back in circular motions. Time is doing that thing it always does during moments like this — stretching. Thickening just like the atmosphere is around you. Seconds bleeding into each other. It’s just the two of you. 

You don’t even realise you’re staring at him until he grins teasingly up at you and kisses you.

‘Baby, you gonna just sit there or are you gonna ride me?’ 

The giggle punches out of your chest before you can even try and stop it, him joining you with chuckles of his own, and you rock your hips again, causing him to grunt your name under his breath. 

There’s no space to speak of between you. Every atom of your body craves him, possessed by a carnal, almost primal desire to have him touching you. 

His hands guide you as your hips pick up a steady rhythm against him. The hand under your shirt keeps you balanced against him, while his grip on your waist helps you maintain the ticking beat that you’ve picked up. It’s regular, not too fast that you can’t keep it but enough pace to make stars cloud your vision. 

The feeling is addictive. His hands roaming your body, touching every spare millimetre of skin they can reach. His cock — huge, thick — rocking inside you, bulbous tip hitting the spot inside you that feels completely different when you ride him like this. 

His hands clap down on your ass in a smack to both cheeks, making you yelp in surprise against his mouth. Joe grins as the sound reverberates through the whole room.  

Both of you are groaning into each other. He kisses your cheek, your temple, your forehead, any inch of skin his lips can reach. He maps your face in kisses, then brushes his lips against your ear.

‘Love seein’ you like this, baby girl,’ he murmurs, voice throaty with need. ‘Takin’ me so well, such a good girl, lookin’ so perfect f’me.’ His Ohio drawl lengthens his vowels, makes his consonants thicken and run into each other. 

It almost sounds like he’s drunk, slurring his words, and in a way he is. Drunk on you. Intoxicated with love for you. You’re the most dangerously addictive drug he’s ever known. He doesn’t want a world where he doesn’t get this high. 

Minutes pass slowly. The room slowly falls away from around you. All you can focus on is him. 

Your thighs start to get tired, but you keep going. Your lower back hurts. Cramp slowly creeps in around your feet. But you can’t stop. 

You cradle his head with both hands as you kiss him, hot and hard, teeth clashing against each other. Your body is moving with every rock of your hips into him, causing your mouth to move back and forth against his. His lips capture yours every time, hungry and desperate for you.

The rhythm picks up in pace. Your high is building once more with the faster pace. Joe has to move both hands to your hips to keep you lowered onto him and direct your hips back and forth, back and forth. 

‘Joey, I — I’m gonna…’ you mumble. 

There it is again. That tightening sensation in your abdomen. It’s approaching even faster than the first orgasm earlier with every pulse of his cock inside you, every rock of your hips into him and every time his grip tightens on you.

Joe can feel you start to tire. He starts to buck his hips up in time with yours, almost lazily. He times it perfectly so the height of his hips are when you’re closest to him. It magnifies the magic feeling of him hitting that spot inside you. 

Moments later, he kisses you hard and fiery. His own rhythm is becoming sloppy, just like yours

‘I’m there, baby,’ he grunts into you.

‘I — Joey, I’m — gonna…’ 

You can’t string a single sentence together. 

‘I know, I know, sweetheart, trust me, I’ve got you.’

All it takes is one, two, three more thrusts into you, hard enough to hit that spot with enough force. Your walls flutter, then you’re coming undone around him. 

This time, you actually scream his name as your orgasm tears through you, hard enough that you feel like you’re about to split open around him. It’s rare for your orgasm to hit you with just penetration - you often need his fingers alongside his dick to get your high, but when you cum with him inside you, it hits you hard. Intense. 

Joe follows seconds later. His release coats your walls, warmth filling you up enough that some of it trickles out of you and down his own thigh. 

He breathes heavily, then moves to fold his arms around you. Your entire body is trembling. The orgasm was so intense that tears start to leak out of your eyes.

‘I’m — I’m okay, god, I’m not… not sad, just…’ you exhale all in one, embarrassed. Gasps of exhaustion splutter out of you and you can only collapse against him, completely and utterly boneless.

‘Hey, it’s okay, I know. Just breathe, sweetheart.’ 

He holds you close to his chest. You’re acutely aware that he’s still inside you, softening but still pulsing every few seconds with the last of him. He rubs your back soothingly and hushes you whenever you shake with another sob. His hand threads through your hair and pulls it back away from your face.

His voice is quiet and gentle as he breathes you through the comedown. 

‘I’ve got you. Breathe. You’re safe. You’re on the couch. Just got a little intense back there, huh.’ 

You don’t respond. He isn’t expecting you to. 

The following few minutes are quiet as the room decompresses. Your breathing slowly starts to even out once more, as does his, and he reaches for the blanket that’s tossed over the back of the couch not far from you. He wraps it around you, still wrapped around him like an exhausted koala. 

‘Wanna lie down, baby?’ He whispers as he kisses the skin beneath your ear. 

You hum in agreement, already soft with sleep, and then his arms are tightening around you as he shifts both of your bodies down onto the couch. You wince at the sensation of him pulling out of you. 

‘I’m okay,’ you mumble when he looks at you in concern, worried that he’s hurt you. ‘Tender. Achey.’ 

He kisses your forehead. 

‘Might need to carry you up to bed, honey,’ he chuckles quietly. You giggle against him.

‘I love the girlfriend transport service.’ 

He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, your hairline and the top of your head.

‘Comes included, free of charge.’ 

You’re too exhausted to respond, so you kiss his chest and close your eyes. His hand disappears into your hair and gently combs out the wild tangles that have formed from his fingers tangling it during sex. 

Joe’s ability to shift from intense to soft in a matter of minutes always takes you by surprise. He’s the king of aftercare, forever making sure that you’re hydrated and feel taken care of. 

He talks to you quietly about practice earlier and the drills he was running. About how he’s feeling about the new season, training camp, the draft. About some documentary he watched the other day and how he wants to watch it again with you, as he thinks you’ll enjoy it.

Then his words drift into softer territory.

‘Always gonna come home to you, baby.’

‘Always gonna be the most important person in my life.’

‘Always gonna be my favourite person.’ 

‘I love you.’ 

It’s those three words that you hear, muffled and echoey like you’re in a dishwasher, as sleep starts to creep up on you. 

You tilt your head to look up him. He chuckles affectionately. 

‘You hear that?’ He asks as he kisses your forehead. ‘I love you. Always have, always will.’ 

The smile you give him cracks his chest open with how soft it is. 

‘I love you too, Joey,’ you mumble, almost indecipherable through your exhaustion. 

He rubs your back again as your head drops back down onto his shoulder. You breathe him in — skin still sticky and sweaty, with the distinct aroma of sex, but still that signature scent of cedar, vanilla and clean laundry that you’ve come to know as home. 

‘Sleep now, baby. I’ll take you up to bed.’

You’re already sore. You’ll likely be walking a little awkwardly tomorrow, but you don’t care. All you care about is how warm Joe is beneath you. 

His heartbeat is steady and regular beneath your ear. He continues talking, and soon, sleep is pulling you under, safe in the arms of your quarterback. 

JOE BURROW TAGLIST (message/ask to be added!): @cixrosie @vroomvroombtch @mrs-delaney @cozygirljay @krugstrash @savaneafricaine @jbnine99 @heavyhitterheaux @neyessibff @honeydippedfiction @alertbooty @basicash @hallecarey1 @megsinnerthoughts @junovee @snoopyhughes @britt217 @emeraldgold23 @fallinlovewithurlove @supermansballlicker3 @jspit9 @prissyimagines @justtheplainoldme @imperfect-paragon 

[mrs-delaney]

Simple Math

pairings: joe burrow x younger reader 🤍 wc: 6.2k an: OKAY! 🤍 I'm so excited to bring you this troupe! A lot of you wanted this so I need you to blow this up please don't let it flop lol 😭 This is for those of you that have been requesting smut with some angst. It's got both, but with a happy ending 🫶

masterlist

You leave him in the kitchen.

You don't think anything of it. Dinner was good. The drive home was good. He had his hand on your thigh the whole way back, thumb moving in that slow, absent rhythm he does when he's content and not thinking about it. You walked in the front door and kicked your heels off, and he caught you around the waist on your way to the stairs, kissed the back of your neck, and told you he'd be up in a minute.

You're upstairs now. In his bathroom. Dress unzipped halfway down your back, makeup wipe in your hand. You can hear him moving around in the kitchen — the cabinet, the fridge, the soft click of a glass on the counter. Familiar sounds. The sounds of his house when you're in it.

You take your time. You like his bathroom. The mirror is bigger than yours. The lighting is better. You hum something under your breath, swipe at your eyeliner, peel your lashes off, and set them on the counter. You're not in a hurry. He's coming up. You'll get in bed. You'll wait for him.

Downstairs, the kitchen is quiet.

His phone is face down on the counter where he left it when you got home. He hasn't touched it since you sat down at the restaurant. That's not unusual. He doesn't half-live with you. When you're there, he doesn't check scores at the table, doesn't scroll between courses, doesn't pull it out in the car. You get all of him. You always do.

He picks it up now.

It lights up in his hand before his thumb hits the screen — notifications stacking on top of each other, a missed call, three texts in the same thread.

Sam: dude.

sam: [screenshot]

And underneath, in another thread:

Trey: LMAOOOO bro 😭 soft launching???

He opens Sam's first.

The screenshot fills the screen, and he stands in his kitchen, a water glass in his other hand, looking at it.

Your story. Still up. The pasta you ordered, the candle on the table, the wine glass half-empty. And in the corner of the frame — his hand. His wrist. The bracelets he's been wearing since forever.

He doesn't move.

He sets the water glass down. Opens the app. Scrolls to your account. It's still there. Twelve thousand views already. He scrolls down to the comments, and they're already there—is that Joe Burrow's hand? NO WAY, girl, post him fr. I know those fucking bracelets anywhere. Y/N spill.

He locks the phone.

He doesn't call up to you.

He just stands there in the kitchen, jaw tight, one hand flat on the counter, and waits.

—

You hear him on the stairs.

You're in bed already. His t-shirt. Hair up. Phone in your hand because you'd posted your dinner and the story is doing numbers — way more views than you usually get, comments lighting up your last post, your friends sending the fire emoji and asking where you ate. The other comments you've been ignoring. Wait, is that—.Y/N. No way. You saw them. You're not stupid. You scrolled past them on purpose. You're not going to make a thing of it. You're going to let it sit. Let people wonder. That's the move.

You'd been scrolling through it lazily, half-paying attention, half-listening for him.

His footsteps are slower than usual. You clock it, but you don't think about it. You assume he's tired. Dinner ran long. The wine.

He comes through the doorway and stops.

Doesn't get in. Doesn't kick his shoes off the way he does. Doesn't start unbuttoning his shirt on his way to the closet. He just stands there in the frame of the door with his phone in his hand and looks at you.

"Y/N."

Flat. Not the way he says it when he comes to bed. Not the way he said it in the car twenty minutes ago, hand on your thigh.

You look up.

He doesn't say anything else for a second. He crosses the room. Stops at the side of the bed. Holds his phone out.

"Take this down."

You blink at him.

"What?"

"The story," he says. "Take it down."

You sit up a little. The sheet pools at your waist. You take his phone from him, and you look at the screen.

It's your story. Screenshotted. Sent to him by Sam.

You see the pasta. The candle. The wine glass. You see his hand in the corner of the frame, the bracelets, the watch, and your stomach does something small and quick that you don't fully register yet because you're still catching up.

You look back up at him.

—

"Joe."

He doesn't say anything.

"I—" You look down at the phone again. At the screen. At your own story still glowing back at you. "I didn't think it was a big deal."

His jaw works.

"I post my dinner all the time," you say, and you hear it come out a little too fast, a little too defensive, and you don't stop. "Especially when it's good. That's like — that's just what I do, that's a normal thing I do, I wasn't trying to—"

"Y/N."

"—I wasn't posting you, I was posting the pasta, I didn't even—"

"Take it down."

You stop.

You look up at him. He hasn't moved. He's still standing next to the bed, looking down at you, and his face is doing the thing it does in press conferences when someone asks him a question he doesn't want to answer. Closed. Smooth. Nothing is leaking through.

You hand his phone back. Pick up your own. Open the app.

Your thumb hovers.

"Joe, it's literally just your hand."

"Take it down."

"You can't even see your face."

"Y/N."

"It's a hand."

He exhales through his nose. Sits down on the edge of the bed. Doesn't look at you.

"I can't just take it down."

He looks at you then.

"What?"

"I can't just take it down, Joe, that's so embarrassing, people already saw it, it's been up for a while now, if I delete it now everyone's gonna know I deleted it and that's a whole other thing, that's like — that confirms it more than just leaving it—"

"Y/N."

"—if I just leave it up it's a hand, it's nothing, but if I take it down now everyone's gonna be like oh she got told to take it down, and then it's a thing, and—"

"I don't care. Take it down."

—

You go quiet.

You're still holding your phone. Your thumb is still hovering. You haven't deleted anything.

"You don't have to talk to me like that."

He looks at the ceiling.

"Y/N."

"You don't. I'm not — I'm not a child, Joe, you can't just—"

"Then stop acting like one."

It comes out before he can stop it. You can see it on his face the second it lands — the flicker of don't, the half-second where he could've pulled it back and didn't. He doesn't take it back. He just holds your eye.

"Wow."

"Y/N—"

"No, that's — wow. That's what you think?"

"That's not—"

"That's what you think. That I'm — what, that I'm immature? That I'm a kid? You think I'm a kid, Joe?"

"I think you posted me on the internet, and now you're arguing with me about why you can't take the picture down because it would be embarrassing for you."

"It would be embarrassing—"

"You don't get it."

"I get it—"

"You don't."

You're sitting all the way up now. The sheet is twisted around your hips. Your phone is face down on the comforter. Your chest is doing something tight and quick that you're choosing not to name.

"So explain it to me."

He drags a hand over his jaw.

"Y/N."

"Explain it to me, then. If I don't get it. Tell me."

"You know what it is."

"No, I don't, Joe, because to me it's a hand, it's literally a hand, and you're acting like I — like I sold a story to TMZ, like I—"

"You didn't think."

"I did think—"

"You didn't. You sat there at dinner, took a picture, and didn't think about me being in the frame, because if you had, you would've cropped it. That's what I'm saying. You didn't think."

"I—"

"And now Sam knows. And Trey knows. And by tomorrow morning, everyone with a fan account knows where we were, what we were doing, that you were there, that I was there. And you want to leave it up because taking it down would be embarrassing."

You don't say anything.

He looks at you. Then he looks at the wall.

"That's what I mean," he says, quieter. "When I say you didn't think."

You stare at him.

"Why does it matter?"

"Y/N."

"No. Why does it matter, Joe? Like — what is the actual problem? For people know we had dinner? That people can see your hand? What is the — what are you actually mad about?"

"You know what I'm mad about."

"I don't. I really don't. Because if it's just that people saw us, then — I don't get it. We're allowed to have dinner. You're allowed to be seen with me. So what — what is it. Are you embarrassed?"

He looks at you.

"What?"

"Are you embarrassed. Of me. Is that what this is?"

"Y/N."

"Because that's what it sounds like. It sounds like — it sounds like you don't want anyone to know, and you're mad that I — that I gave them a hand, like — is that what this is? You don't want people to know it's me?"

"That's not what I said."

"It's what it sounds like."

"That's not what I said, Y/N."

"Then what are you saying. Because I'm sitting here trying to figure out why a hand is a — is the end of the world, and the only thing I can come up with is that you don't want people knowing it was me on the other side of that table?"

He's looking at you. Quiet. Jaw working.

"That's not fair."

"None of this is fair."

"You know that's not what it is."

"I don't, actually. I don't know that. Because you won't tell me what it is. You're just — you're standing here telling me I didn't think, and that I'm acting like a child, and I'm asking you a real question, Joe, and you're not answering it."

He doesn't say anything for a second.

He sits with it. You can see him sitting with it. The hand that was at his jaw drops to his thigh, fingers spread, and he looks at the floor between his feet.

"That's not what it is."

"Then what is it?"

"I told you."

"You haven't."

"Y/N."

"You haven't, Joe. You've told me I didn't think. You've told me I'm acting like a child. You haven't told me what it is."

"It's that you're twenty-two."

It comes out quieter than the rest. Not cold this time. Just true. He's looking at you.

You feel it land somewhere under your ribs.

"Cool."

"That's not—"

"No, that's cool. That's — okay. Got it."

"Y/N."

You're already pushing the sheet off. You're already swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The t-shirt rides up your thighs, and you don't do anything about it. You stand up. You don't look at him.

"Y/N. Stop."

"I'm not doing this."

"Where are you going?"

"Fuck if I know."

You walk past him. You don't slam the door because you're not — you're not going to be that. You're not going to give him the proof. You walk out of the bedroom and down the hall and into the guest room at the end of it, and you close that door quietly behind you.

—

He doesn't follow.

You grabbed your phone on the way out. You don't remember doing it. It was on the comforter, and your hand closed around it without your permission, and now you're sitting on the edge of the guest bed in the dark with it in your lap.

You don't turn the lamp on. The house is quiet around you. The bedroom door is closed at the other end of the hall, and you can't hear anything through it.

You don't cry. You're too mad to cry. You sit there with your hands flat on your thighs, and you breathe through your nose, and you wait for whatever is going to happen next.

Then you pick up the phone.

You unlock it. The screen is too bright. You squint against it and tap into the app, and there it is — your story. Twelve thousand views. Fifteen now. The pasta, the candle, and his hand in the corner.

You hold your thumb on it.

The little menu comes up. Delete story. You tap it.

Are you sure?

You're sure.

You tap it again. The screen does its little animation, the story disappearing, and then it's gone. Just your other posts. Your dinner from two nights ago. A picture of your friend's dog. A sunset.

You sit there in the dark holding the phone.

You didn't do it for him.

You did it because if he doesn't want to be seen with you, then fine. He won't be. You'll take care of that yourself. You'll be the one who decides who knows what. You'll be the one who erases it. Not him.

You put the phone face down on the bed next to you.

You wait.

You don't know how long. Two minutes. Five. Long enough that you start to wonder if he's going to leave you in here. If he's going to make you come back to him. You don't know which one would be worse.

Then you hear the bedroom door open down the hall.

Footsteps. Slow. The hardwood creaks the way it does in the spot outside the linen closet.

He stops outside the guest room door.

—

The door opens.

You don't look up.

You hear it more than see it — the soft click of the handle, the give of the hinge, the strip of hallway light widening across the floor of the guest room until it touches the bed frame. You sit very still on the edge of the mattress, and you keep your eyes on your hands in your lap.

He doesn't say anything.

He doesn't come in all the way. You can feel him standing in the doorway, weight in the frame. You can hear him breathing. Slow. Long. Like he's been holding it.

"Y/N."

You don't answer.

"Look at me."

You don't.

You hear him take a step into the room. Then another. The door eases closed behind him, and the strip of light goes with it, and you're in the half-dark again, just the spill from the hallway under the door and whatever's coming through the window from the streetlight outside.

He stops in front of you.

You can see his feet. Bare. He took his shoes off at some point. The hem of his pants. You don't look up.

"Y/N."

His voice is different. Lower. Not cold anymore. Not soft yet either. Just quiet. The way he talks to you when he's trying to be careful.

"What?"

"Look at me."

"I don't want to."

"I know."

You stare at his feet.

You can hear him breathing. You can feel the heat of him a foot away from your knees. You can feel the want to lean forward and put your face against his stomach, and the want to push him away with both hands, and you don't know which one is going to win.

"I shouldn't have said it like that."

You don't say anything.

"Y/N."

"You said what you meant."

"I said it cold. I shouldn't have said it cold."

"Same thing."

"It's not."

You finally look up.

He's looking down at you. His face is doing the thing it does when his guard isn't all the way up — that small softening around his mouth, the way his eyes are tired. He hasn't put a hand on you yet. He's keeping them at his side. You can tell that's a choice.

"It's not the same thing," he says again. "Saying it cold and meaning it. They're not the same."

"Then say it warm."

"Y/N."

"Say it warm, Joe. If they're different. Say it warm and let's see."

—

He doesn't say anything for a second.

You can see him looking for it. The way his jaw moves. The way his mouth opens and closes. He's never been good at finding the words when it counts. He's looking for them anyway.

You don't let him find them.

"I deleted it."

He stops looking. He looks at you.

"When."

"Before you came in."

His face does something small. You see it happen. The half-second where he thinks you did it for him. The half-second where his shoulders start to come down.

You don't let him have that either.

"I didn't do it for you."

He goes still.

"I did it because if you don't want to be seen with me, I'll be the one who decides."

He doesn't move.

You can see him taking it in. The way his eyes go a little flat. The way his hand at his side closes around nothing. He doesn't say anything for a long time. Long enough that you start to wonder if you've actually done it now. If this is the part where he leaves the room.

He doesn't leave the room.

He closes the space between you.

His hand comes up, and his palm is on your jaw, his thumb under your chin, and he tilts your face up so you have to look at him. His grip is firmer than it was going to be a minute ago. He's not asking.

You let him.

You haven't kissed him yet. He hasn't kissed you yet. He just stands there with his hand on your face and looks at you like he's trying to find the part of you that did it. The part that sat in here in the dark with your phone in your lap and pressed delete on him before he ever apologized. He's looking for her.

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Look at me."

You're already looking at him.

"Look at me."

You don't know what he means. You hold his eye anyway. His thumb drags along your jaw. Slow. Not soft. Just slow.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't erase me."

You don't answer.

He kisses you.

It's not soft. It's not asking. It's the kiss of someone who just got told something he can't take and is putting it somewhere in his body because he doesn't yet have the words for it. His mouth is hard against yours, and his hand is still on your jaw, and the other one comes up and grabs the back of your neck, and you don't kiss him back at first.

You make him work for it again.

He doesn't pull back this time. He just kisses you harder. Until your mouth opens under his. Until your hand comes up off the comforter and grabs the front of his shirt because you have to hold onto something. Until you kiss him back because the alternative — not kissing him back — has stopped being available.

He pulls you up off the edge of the bed by the back of your neck. You're standing. You're chest to chest. His other hand is on your hip, fingers spread, and he's pulling you in against him, and you can feel him through his pants, and you can feel his breath hot and fast against your mouth, and his control isn't where it was an hour ago. It's not anywhere. He's not pretending anymore.

"Joe."

"Don't talk."

"Joe—"

"Please, Y/N."

You don't.

He pushes you back. Your knees hit the mattress, and you sit. He stays standing. His hand goes from your neck to your hair, and he's holding it at the root, not tight, but enough that you have to keep looking up at him.

He looks down at you for a second.

Then he kneels.

—

He puts his hands on your knees. Pushes them apart. The t-shirt — his — rides up your thighs, and he doesn't help it. He looks at you sitting there in nothing but his shirt with your legs open in front of him, and his jaw works once.

"Joe."

"Shhhh."

He puts his mouth on the inside of your knee.

You don't make a sound. You're not going to give him sound yet. You're still mad. You hold onto the comforter on either side of you, and you watch him because watching is the only thing you have left, and you're not going to close your eyes for him.

He works up the inside of your thigh. Slow. He's not rushing. He kisses the soft skin above your knee and then higher and then higher, and when his mouth gets to the crease of your thigh, you can't help it — your hips shift. Just a little. Just enough that he notices.

He stops.

Looks up at you.

"You good?"

"I'm fine."

"Y/N."

"I'm fine, Joe."

He looks at you for another second. You don't soften. He goes back to your thigh, and this time he doesn't stop at the crease. He pushes your knees wider with both hands and pulls you forward by the hips until you're right at the edge of the mattress, and his mouth is on you.

You make a sound then. You can't help it. It's short and bitten off, and you hate that you made it.

He doesn't acknowledge it.

He doesn't tease. He doesn't draw it out. He goes at you like he's been thinking about it the entire fight, like the whole time he was standing in the kitchen with his phone in his hand and his jaw tight, he was also thinking about this. His tongue is hot, and his hands are gripping your thighs hard enough that you're going to have marks tomorrow, and you can hear yourself breathing now, fast, uneven, and you don't try to be quiet anymore.

Your hand comes up to his hair. You don't mean to. You grab it.

He groans against you, and you feel it in your whole body.

"Joe—"

He doesn't stop. He hooks one of your knees over his shoulder and pulls you closer, and his arm comes across your hips to hold you in place because you're not staying still anymore. You can't. Your back is starting to arch, and your head is going back, and your hand in his hair is gripping harder than you mean to be gripping, but he doesn't seem to mind; he's not slowing down, he's not letting up.

"Joe — Joe—"

"Mm."

"I'm—"

"Mm."

"Joe—"

He pulls back half an inch. Just enough to look up at you. His mouth is wet. His eyes are dark.

"Tell me you're mine."

You stare at him.

"What?"

"Tell me you're mine."

"Joe—"

"Say it, Y/N."

His arm tightens across your hips. His other hand is still gripping your thigh. He's looking up at you from between your legs, and his mouth is right there, and his breath is hot, and he's not going to give it back to you until you say it.

"I'm yours."

He waits.

"I'm yours, Joe."

He puts his mouth back on you.

—

He doesn't pace it now. He goes hard and steady, and his arm is still locked across your hips, and his hand is still gripping your thigh, and you're not breathing anymore, you're just making sounds, you're just holding onto his hair, and the comforter and your back is arching and your eyes are closing whether you want them to or not.

It happens fast.

You don't get a warning. One second you're chasing it, and the next it's already happening, the wave breaking, your whole body going tight under his mouth and his hands, and your knee tightening on his shoulder, and the sound that comes out of you isn't a word, isn't anything, it's just sound.

He doesn't stop until you stop.

He works you through it slowly. His grip on your thigh loosens. His arm at your hips eases. When you finally let go of his hair, he kisses the inside of your thigh once, soft, and then again, and then he sits back on his heels and looks up at you.

You're trying to catch your breath.

He's watching you do it.

His mouth is wet. His eyes are dark. His t-shirt is pulled tight across his shoulders from where he's been braced. He looks like a man who hasn't gotten what he came for yet.

He stands up.

You can hear him breathing, too, now. His hands go to his belt. He doesn't look away from you while he does it. He gets the belt loose, and the button and the zipper, and he pushes everything down at once and steps out of it, and his shirt comes off over his head in one motion, and then he's standing in front of you, and you're sitting in his t-shirt on the edge of the guest bed, and your legs are still open.

"Up."

You don't move.

"Y/N. Up."

You stand. Your legs are still shaking from coming. You wobble, and his hand is on your hip before you can fall, holding you. He reaches down, grabs the hem of his t-shirt, and lifts it. You raise your arms. He pulls it off over your head and drops it on the floor.

You're naked.

He looks at you.

For a second, he doesn't move. He just looks at you in the half-dark in the guest room, and his face is doing something you can't fully read. Not soft. Not cold. Just — looking. Like he's making sure.

Then his hand comes back to your jaw.

"Get on the bed."

You get into bed.

You back up onto it on your hands, and you go until your shoulders hit the headboard, and you sit there with your knees up and your eyes on him, and he's standing at the foot of the bed watching you do it. He puts one knee on the mattress. Then the other. He crawls up between your legs slowly, deliberately, his hands on either side of your hips, his eyes on yours the whole time.

He stops when his face is above yours.

He hasn't kissed you yet.

"You okay?"

You nod.

"Say it."

"I'm okay."

"Y/N."

"I'm okay, Joe."

He kisses you then. Hard. You can taste yourself on him, and you don't care. His hand slides down between you and lines up, and he's looking at you the whole time, his other forearm braced by your head, his face an inch from yours.

He pushes in.

—

You take him in one long exhale.

He goes slowly. Slower than you expect after everything. His forearm is still braced beside your head, and his other hand is on your hip, holding you steady, and he sinks in inch by inch and watches your face the whole time. Your eyes close. He says your name.

You open them.

"There you go."

He's all the way in. He doesn't move for a second. He just stays there with his forehead against yours and his breath coming hot and uneven and his hand on your hip flexing once, twice, like he's holding onto something he's afraid of losing.

Then he starts to move.

Slow at first. Deep. The kind of pace that's not about chasing anything — it's about reminding you. His hips pull back and push in, and your hands come up to his shoulders and his back and his hair, and you can't keep them in one place. He's heavy on top of you. He's warm. He smells like the cologne he wore to dinner, fainter now, and like him underneath it.

"Y/N."

"Yeah."

"Look at me."

You're already looking at him. He knows that. He says it anyway. His face is close enough that you can see his lashes. The flecks in his eyes. The way his mouth is parted.

"You're twenty-two."

You don't say anything.

He doesn't break his rhythm. He's still moving in you slowly, and his eyes are still on yours, and he says it again, quieter.

"You're twenty-two."

"Joe—"

"I'm saying it differently."

You feel it land. You feel it in your chest before you feel it anywhere else. He's not weaponizing it now. He's looking at you and saying the same word he said in the bedroom, and meaning a different thing with it. You don't know what the different thing is yet. You don't have to know yet. He's not asking you to know yet.

He kisses you. Slow. Wet. His tongue in your mouth and his hand sliding up your side and his hips still working into you, and you feel the first crack of it then — the thing in your chest that's been held tight since the kitchen. The thing that made you delete the post. The thing that's been bracing for tonight for months.

You make a sound against his mouth that isn't pleasure.

He hears it.

He pulls back half an inch. Looks at you. You don't know what your face is doing. You can feel water on it. Not crying. Just water.

His hand comes up. His thumb brushes under your eye.

"Hey."

"I'm fine."

"Y/N."

"I'm fine."

"Look at me."

You look at him.

"I've got you."

That's what does it.

You don't sob. You're not going to sob. But something in you lets go — the held thing finally easing, your shoulders dropping into the mattress, your hand on the back of his neck pulling him down because you need him closer, you need him heavier, you need his weight on you because if he's on you, he can't leave the room.

He goes. He drops his weight onto you. His forehead is at your temple, and his arm comes under your shoulders, and he's holding you down against the bed and moving in you slower now, deeper, and you can feel the change in him too. He's not making a point anymore. He's not claiming you. He's just here.

"Joe—"

"I know."

"Joe—"

"I'm so sorry, baby."

He says it like that. Baby. Low. He says it when his control is gone, and his control is gone now. His hips are getting heavier. His breath is getting shorter. You can feel him losing it in slow pieces — the rhythm getting less clean, his hand at your hip gripping harder, the sound he makes against your neck low and ragged.

"Stay with me."

"I'm here."

"Stay with me, Y/N."

"I'm here. I'm here. I'm here."

You don't know if you say it three times or thirty.

He comes hard. His whole body locks up against yours. His face is in your neck, and his hand on your hip is bruising, and he's saying something you can't quite catch, something low, and his hips push into you one last time and stay there.

He doesn't move.

You don't either.

His weight is on you, and his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your hand is in his hair, and the room is dark, and the t-shirt of his is on the floor somewhere, and the comforter is half off the bed, and outside the window, a car goes by on the street, and neither of you moves.

For a long time, neither of you moves.

—

He's the one who moves first.

He doesn't go far. He shifts his weight off you, slow, careful, and rolls onto his side. His arm stays under your shoulders. He pulls you with him. You end up on his chest with your leg thrown over his and your hand flat against his sternum and his hand on the small of your back.

The room is so quiet.

You can hear him breathing. You can feel his heart under your palm. He's still catching his breath, and so are you, and neither of you has said anything yet.

You don't want to be the one who says it first.

You wait.

His hand moves up your back. Slow. Spread. He's not stroking it. He's just keeping it there, palm flat, like he wants to know you're solid.

"Y/N."

"Mm."

"That wasn't — " He stops. You feel his chest move. "What I said in the bedroom. That wasn't about you."

You don't move.

"Y/N."

"I'm listening."

He doesn't go again for a second. You can hear him thinking. You can feel his chest moving under your cheek, the way he's working something out, and you wait for it because you can tell he's not done.

"It's been in my head," he says. "Your age. It's been in my head the whole time we've been together, and I haven't told you that."

You don't say anything.

"Not because there's anything wrong with you. There's nothing wrong with you. You're not — you're not a kid. You're twenty-two, you're an adult, you know what you're doing. That's not — that's not what I'm saying."

He stops. His hand at your back has gone still.

"I'm saying it's in my head. It's mine. I'm twenty-nine, and you're twenty-two, and I keep doing the math in my head about it. Like I'm trying to find the thing that makes it okay. And tonight I — when Sam texted me, and I came up the stairs, I was already — I was already thinking about it. About the math. And then you said I can't just take it down, and it would be embarrassing, and I — I used it. At you. Because it was already in my head."

He stops again.

"I shouldn't have done that."

You don't say anything.

"It's not your thing to carry," he says. "It's mine. And I made you carry it tonight."

You're quiet.

His hand starts moving again. Slow. Spread. His thumb finds the dip at the base of your spine and stays there.

"I'm working on it."

"Okay."

"Y/N."

"Okay, Joe."

You don't say it warm. You can't yet. You give him the word and you mean it, and that's the most you can do right now. He takes it.

You lie there.

You don't know how long. His hand on your back. Your hand on his chest. The window across the room, the streetlight outside, the car that goes by every few minutes, the quiet of the house, and the quiet between you.

You're the one who says it.

"I knew you were going to look at me like that one day."

His hand stops.

"What?"

"Like — " You don't finish. You don't have to. He gets it. You can feel him get it. His hand starts moving again, slower than before. His other hand comes up, and his fingers find your hair.

"I'm sorry, baby."

You don't say anything.

"I don't look at you that way."

You let it sit.

You think for a second he's done. That he's not going to say anything else. You're okay with that. You've gotten more from him tonight than you usually get, and the silence is its own kind of answer.

Then he says it.

"You make the room bigger."

You don't move.

"Y/N."

"I heard you."

"Okay."

You're quiet.

You feel him breathing. You feel his hand on your back. You feel his fingers in your hair and his thumb against your scalp and his heart steady under your cheek, and you're trying to hold onto it because you know he's not going to say things like that twice.

Except he does.

His voice is so low you almost don't catch it.

"You make me feel alive."

You close your eyes.

You don't say anything back. You don't have words for what to say back. You press your face into his chest a little harder, and his arm tightens around you, and his hand stays in your hair, and that's the answer you have.

You don't know when you fall asleep.

It's not a decision. One second you're listening to him breathe, and the next your eyes are heavy, and the next you're somewhere underneath all of it, drifting, his hand on your hip now, his thumb moving slowly.

He's still awake.

You don't know that. You'll never know that. He'll lie there for another hour with his hand on your hip and his thumb moving slowly over the bone and his eyes on the dark ceiling, and he'll go back through every line of it — the kitchen, the take it down, the twenty-two, the way you sat on the edge of the guest bed and told him you'd erased him.

And then he'll start working it.

Coffee in the morning. You like the oat milk. He's out. He'll send for it before you wake up.

Your friend's birthday next month — you'd mentioned it on the drive home, the trip to Austin, you weren't sure you could swing because of money. He'll book the flight tomorrow. He won't make a thing of it. He'll just tell you the trip is handled.

The math. He has to do something about the math. He doesn't know what yet. He knows he can't keep doing it. He knows he has to figure out where it actually comes from before he can put it down. He'll think about that. He'll keep thinking about it.

He won't sleep.

His thumb keeps moving.

Outside, another car goes by.

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[willowsnook]

breaking rules

Can we get heavy PDA Joe and everyone’s reaction

joe burrow x gf!reader 

—-------------------—----

Your friends made fun of you relentlessly because, to a lot of the outside world, it looked like you and Joe were just friends, distant cousins even. PDA made you very uncomfortable, and that paired well with Joe, who hated anyone prying into his private life. Of course, his teammates and your circle knew that the two of you were together, but the media had yet to catch on, even though you guys lived together. 

So imagine your surprise when it was now an hour into the team’s post-season dinner party, and Joe had not left your side. Usually,  at these events, you arrive together but then break off, him going to find his boyfriend Ja’Marr, and you going to hang with some of the other WAGs. Then you meet up at the end to leave, and the cycle repeats. 

But tonight, Joe’s hand had been snugly placed around your waist, even when you were talking to other people.  Missing the playoffs had hit him hard, and you had watched him retreat into his shell these past few weeks; you were there for him when he needed it. So you weren’t shocked at his lack of conversation tonight but surprised by the touch. 

The people you were talking to left to grab a drink at the bar, so you took the opportunity to turn to Joe. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, concerned. 

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. You looked down at his arm wrapped around you and back up at him, arching an eyebrow. “Just want to be close to you.” 

Nodding, you decided you’d let him have a pass tonight to be clingy, even though you were cringing on the inside. Ja’Marr called over to Joe from the other side of the room and you were dragged along to join them. He was sitting on a couch next to Tee, and Joe sat down in an armchair, pulling you down on top of him. Both of his friends’ eyes widened at the sight. 

“Never thought I’d see the day,” Ja’Marr said once he came out of shock. 

“I thought you guys would never beat the siblings allegations,” Tee chimed in and Joe flipped them off before settling his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you against his chest. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you settled into Joe's lap, acutely aware of the eyes on you. Joe seemed unfazed, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip as he chatted with Ja'Marr and Tee. You tried to relax, reminding yourself that these were your friends, but you couldn't shake the feeling of exposure.

"You good?" Joe murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Joe pressed a soft kiss to your temple, and you heard Tee let out a low whistle.

"Damn, Joe. Who are you and what have you done with our QB1?" Tee teased.

As the night wore on, Joe's affection only intensified. He peppered kisses along your shoulder, nuzzled into your neck, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear. Your discomfort battled with a growing warmth in your chest at his open displays of love.

"Get a room, you two!" Sam Hubbard called out as he passed by, earning a chorus of laughter and wolf whistles from nearby teammates.

Joe just grinned, pulling you impossibly closer. "Maybe we will," he shot back and you slapped him in the chest. 

Deciding you needed some air, you walked off towards the balcony, naturally with Joe right behind you. 

“I’m giving you a one-night pass for this kind of behavior only because you’ve been so depressing,” you told him and he smirked at your honesty. He stepped closer to you, sliding his arms around your waist while you rested yours on his shoulders. 

“Then I better take advantage hmm,” he said, eyes flickering down to your lips. Before you could protest, his lips were on yours, moving steadily as he found comfort in you. His hands started to dip lower, and you swatted them, causing him to smile against you. 

When you pulled back, you gave him an irritated look, and he pouted. 

“Come on princess, I just need you,” he admitted and your heart clenched at his words. You knew he was holding on to you like a lifeline and he knew you’d do anything to be there for him. 

“Fine, then let’s get a room hot shot,” you said, dragging him off the balcony and towards the front of the venue. Ja’Marr gave you a teasing wave goodbye and you flipped him off. 

Joe chuckled at your gesture, his hand laced tightly with yours as you maneuvered through the crowded room. The whispers and knowing smirks from his teammates didn’t faze him in the slightest, but you could feel your cheeks heating up again.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” you muttered as you both stepped outside, the cool night air hitting your face.

“Immensely,” Joe replied, his grin only widening. “Can’t let them think I’m a robot all the time.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed your amusement. Once you reached the car, Joe opened the door for you with a flourish, earning an eye roll that turned into a laugh. He climbed in after you, wasting no time pulling you back into his lap.

“Joe,” you started to protest, but he silenced you with another kiss, this one softer, less teasing, and more vulnerable.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips when he finally pulled back, his voice low and sincere. “For putting up with me tonight. For everything.”

Your heart softened as you reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “Always, Joe. I’ve got you.”

His smile this time wasn’t the playful smirk you were used to. It was small, genuine, and filled with gratitude. You let yourself lean into him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the chain around his neck as the driver started the car.

For all the teasing and awkwardness of the night, you knew one thing for certain: Joe Burrow might not be big on PDA most of the time, but when he let his guard down like this, you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

[nineverce]

SNOW WHITE / JOE BURROW

summary / she doesn’t think she’s pretty. joe tries to help her see just how beautiful she is.

warnings / fem!reader, angst, body image issues, some self-projection

note / a vent fic based off of snow white by laufey

tags / @willowsnook @irishmanwhore @iosivb9 @softburrow @burrowdarling @jburrgf @wickedfun9 @hotburreaux @starsinthesky5 @hannahjessica113 @joeyfranchise @joeyburrrow @joeyb1989 @burrowswomen @kazsbrckkers @sportyphile @ebsmind @justhereforthetea200 @joecoolburrow (comment/send an ask to be added!)

IT WAS ROUTINE. It was normal. She refused to look at herself in the mirror. When she’d get up, shuffle into the bathroom, she’d cast one look at herself and notice every flaw. Acne scars. Her nose shape. Her stomach. But no one wants to hear a girl complain about insecurities.

Especially not the girlfriend of Joe Burrow.

So, she continued on her day. She went to work. She dressed in clothes that hid the worst parts of her, but she still looked good. She would fake confidence, fake security. No one saw that she compared every part of herself to the girls that she saw walking by.

Not skinny enough. Not tall enough. Not enough.

She got home that evening, exhausted. It wasn’t that work was hard or draining. It was a long day, filled with the same monotonous tasks and mind loops. Her stomach grumbled; she’d not eaten anything since lunch. She dropped her keys into the wooden bowl by the door, the jingle echoing in the house.

Joe knew she was home. Like a dog, he jumped up from his office chair and he padded down the stairs. His nearly slipped, his sock-covered feet not gaining enough traction for him. He wrapped her in a hug, a boyish grin plastered on his face. He tried not to focus too much on how she stiffens, or how she does that fake laugh whenever she’s upset or uncomfortable.

“How was work?” He asked, pulling away from her. He looked deep into her eyes, seeing the sea of emotions behind her eyes. It nearly took him back, but he knew how to sail her ocean. He’d done it a number of times. She couldn’t scare him away.

“Tiring,” she sighed, slouching her purse off of her shoulder, “but I’m starving,”

“Yeah?” Joe smiled, leading her into their kitchen. Warm light filled the room, the granite countertops glistening. She slid onto the barstool at the island, watching as Joe tugged open the fridge.

“I made lasagna,” he offered, tugging out the larger container of the Italian dish, “I haven’t had any yet. I wanted to wait for you,”

It was so thoughtful. Her eyes peered down at the container, watching as he scooped her some. She felt her chest clench at the portion, but she didn’t complain. Joe wasn’t doing it because he thought she was fat, right? He was serving her that much because she said she was starving, right?

Joe slid it over, the grating of the plate against the counter slicing through the noise in her brain. Joe noticed how her face dropped, how her hand hovered over the fork he gave her. She said she was hungry, starving even.

“Baby,” Joe hummed. He knew what her mind was doing. He knew how to read her and how to tell when the world told her lies. He knew when she believed herself over him.

It was all in her body language. Stiff shoulders. Round eyes. Creased eyebrows. She looked at her food as if she was debating on eating it fast or slow. How many calories was it? How hard would she have to workout tomorrow to burn it off?

“What?” She asked, cutting a piece of lasagna with her fork.

“What’s going on?” He leaned down on his forearms, becoming eye level with her. She studied him. His eyes were focused on her like a camera, studying her back. He saw one girl and she saw another. He saw the woman of his dreams and she saw convenience.

“Nothing,” she shrugged off, “why?”

The silence answered her question. Joe sat up and he walked over to her. He guided her up out of her seat, and he led her to their bedroom. Confusion was written across her face, her stomach still growling. She padded into their bedroom, the soft rug dipping under the weight of her feet.

Then she was looking at herself.

“Joe,” she sighed, watching in the mirror as his hands settled on her shoulders. There was nothing sexual about his touch. Nothing that suggested he wanted her to make those pretty sounds. Joe knew better. He knew her body.

“I want you to see what I see,” He told her, his voice smooth and steady. He helped her out of her blouse, the soft silk slipping from her torso. Her arms immediately folded over her body, and Joe untangled them with practiced ease.

“You’re hiding yourself,” he pointed out, “why?”

“Joe,” she protested, her eyes meeting the skin of her stomach. She felt her disgust rise in her throat, the tension in her chest worsening.

“This body,” he started, hands settling on her hips, “has endured so much. The traumas of college, the change of having a healthy relationship. Your arms have carried my and your heart, and just because it’s been years since you’ve last competed, doesn’t mean you’re not strong,”

He noticed so much more than she did. He always did. He always saw her as a woman to be worshipped, and she barely saw herself as the beggar on the steps of the church.

Joe settled his chin on her shoulder and helped her slacks off of her hips. She felt bare under his eyes, seeing his body and seeing hers. It didn’t look right. She wasn’t a model, she wasn’t like those other girls. She wasn’t soft. She wasn’t always kind.

“Listen to me,” Joe whispered in her ear, resting his forehead against her temple, “you’re beautiful. You’re pretty. Your body is a reflection of your inward beauty, and God babe your soul is gorgeous. If anyone’s lucky, I am,”

His words force a tear down her cheek. She lets her eyes roam. Her thighs. Her calves. Her stomach. Her breasts. Her arms. The way Joe’s arms snaked around her waist, holding her to him, it added an extra layer of security.

But then he walked away.

Her eyes followed him, desperate for his touch and his reassurance. Please, tell me I’m pretty again.

He reemerged from their closet with a shirt of his and some boxer shorts. He helped her into them, covering her up with the warmth of him. She looked back in the mirror, seeing how he so easily wrapped around her. Like home.

“No one compares to you,” he whispered, hoping and praying she believed him. He needed her to see what he saw. He saw a beautiful woman, someone with strength and intelligence. Someone who held herself in a manner that demanded respect but also gave the tiniest creature kindness.

She leaned back in his arms, curling herself as best she could against him. Maybe she was meant for him. Maybe she was meant to be his. Joe squeezed her, pressing a gentle kiss to the soft skin of her neck. He turned her around, cupping her face in his hands. He looked deep into her eyes, telling her in the deep silence that there wasn’t anything she threw at him he couldn’t handle. He was a vessel in her ocean, and he’d ride the waves with ease.

“I love you,” he hummed, a subtle crack in his voice, “I love all of you,”

She rested her forehead against his. The ache in her chest blossomed, forcing tears to spill from her closed eyes. Joe wiped them away, keeping her right in front of him. He loved every part of her, even the parts that she felt were broken. She wasn’t broken to him, she was loved. She was rusty, but she wasn’t old.

She was his girl. His pretty girl. Always and forever.

[coasttocold]

Joe Burrow x Reader Word Count: 17k Warnings: Angst, post-breakup, sex, oral sex, etc. etc. MDNI - 18+. Your media consumption is not my responsibility Summary: Part 3/3 of "You Broke Me Quietly" - please read PT 1 and then PT 2 or you will be very confused

A/N: Thank you for everyone who has enjoyed this so far...hopefully I did it justice

[Y/N POV, Night Before]

Joe’s arms tightened around my waist, and I draped my arms over his shoulder. He softly drew patterns across my skin and traced the curve of my spine, causing me to shiver and shuffle closer to him. He smiled softly at me before quickly pressing a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering before he pulled away to rest his chin on the top of my head.

The house was silent, only filled with our breaths as we settled.

I felt myself relax in his arms, my body remembering all the times he’d held me close before.

I knew I should leave, that I shouldn’t let myself get too comfortable. But the steady beat of Joe’s heart beating against my ear was quickly lulling me to sleep.

‘5 more minutes together can’t hurt,’ I remember thinking to myself before I unknowingly drifted off to sleep, feeling a sense of calm I hadn’t in months.

I startled awake some time later, slightly disoriented and unsure of where I was, before the memories of earlier came flooding back remembering exactly what Joe and I had done.

I was half laying on one of Joe’s arms while the other was nestled under his chin and I admired how calm he looked. It made me want to reach out and trace his jaw, but I stopped myself when I was just inches away.

Frozen in panic, I realized I needed to get out of here and fast. I spotted my clothes in the entry way thrown across the room before I even thought of getting up, knowing I needed to be quick or risk a super awkward conversation that I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

Carefully, I sat up on the couch and paused when Joe’s body shifted. He quickly settled back into the cushions causing me to breathe out in relief.

Rushing, I snuck away from the couch, grabbed my heels in one hand as I picked up my blouse and jeans. I scanned the room, desperate to find my thong, before deciding it wasn’t worth looking for at the risk of waking Joe up. I pulled my jeans up, haphazardly buttoning my blouse, missing some, before I slipped out the front door, heels still in hand and my purse hanging on my shoulder.

The moment I sank into the driver’s seat of my car, the tension in my body released and I let out a full body sob against the steering wheel.

[JOE’s POV, The Next Morning]

A sharp pain in my back woke me up early in the morning and I lay there, my eyes adjusting to the sun shining through the windows as my mind was clearing the cobwebs of sleep. Memories from the night before poured through my mind, remembering Y/N showing up, the fury that radiated off her.

How hot it was to see that she still cared.

The way she melted into my hands as I took her right there on the stairs, a memory I sure as hell hoped I would never forget.

I grinned, remembering the soft sounds that she let out, the whimpers I brought to the surface as she tried to fight the way she felt under my hands.

I shifted on the couch again and couldn’t help but feel…something off the more I woke up. Then I realized I no longer felt the weight of her body against me.

I sat up, confused and looked around the room, before I clocked her discarded clothes were missing. Frowning, I stood and walked to my discarded sweatpants before pulling them up my hips and foregoing the t-shirt I had lost.

I made my way to the kitchen, expecting to see her in there, drinking coffee from the mug we got in France last summer, the one she had stars in her eyes over.

The thought brought a soft smile to my face as I thought of the places we could still go to before training camp started.

As I crossed over the threshold of the kitchen, I stutter stepped before I realized that y/n was not in fact in my kitchen.

My brow furrowed before I walked through the house, determined to find where she ran off to.

It didn’t take me long after searching the first two rooms to realize I was not likely to find her here, but I was trying to convince myself differently.

Y/N was better than that, I knew that deep down.

But after checking the last bathroom upstairs, I looked out the window from the landing, having forgotten she drove here last night and my heart stopped.

I physically felt the ache in my chest when I saw her car was no longer parked in the driveway.

Frustrated, I made my way back to the living room and picked my phone up from the end table where I had set it the night before.

When I swiped at the screen, I expected to see her name on the screen, hoping for an explanation of some sort, but all I saw was the group chat I had with the guys from last night, giving me a hard time for bailing on them.

I flopped on the couch and let out a deep breath, running my hand through my hair and mussing it up while I clutched my phone in the other.

Out of frustration, I scrolled to her name in my texts again, seeing the messages she sent from the bathroom the night before.

On instinct, my fingers flew over the keyboard, and I pressed send without a second thought.

JOE: What in the ACTUAL fuck, y/n?!

Pissed, I locked my phone and threw it on the table in front of me, refusing to acknowledge the disappointment I felt at waking up without her, especially when I realized she didn’t care enough to say goodbye.

[Y/N POV]

After I washed my face, fed Bill and had some coffee in my system, I sat on my kitchen counter with my legs swinging and read the message from Joe for probably the hundredth time this morning.

Every time I re-read it, my lip wobbled as I tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

I refused to crumble since I was the one who made the choice to walk away.

But Joe didn’t deserve me leaving without a word. He was right to be upset with me. In the end, I should have respected him, our relationship, even myself enough to stick around and talk it out.

Being an adult was hard.

Especially when I had no idea what I could say to make things easier on both of us.

No matter what I wrote out in response, it just didn’t feel like enough.

I’m sorry made my stomach roll, because I wasn’t sorry. I thoroughly enjoyed what Joe and I did the night before.

Last night was a mistake. Except it wasn’t.

I’m confused. I paused. That was honest. True. Not what either of us wanted to hear, I’m sure.

My thumb hovered over the screen, debating on sending it.

Closing my eyes, my thumb pressed down and I heard the swoosh of the message being sent.

JOE:

So am I

JOE:

But you leaving without a word didn’t help

Message after message pinged from my phone.

JOE: we could have been confused together

I smiled to myself at the last one.

Y/N:

You deserved better than that

JOE:

You deserve pancakes

JOE:

How about you come over

JOE:

We can be confused together with pancakes I paused, nervously biting my lip as my legs hung off the counter and swung. I looked around the room, hoping to find the answer staring me in the eyes.

Instead, all I got was Bill’s disappointed look from where he was on the back of the couch, irritated by the noises I was making.

I rolled my eyes.

I was officially losing it, taking my cat too seriously.

Y/N:

With extra chocolate chips, the fresh whipped cream and syrup? The REAL kind, not that sugar free stuff?

JOE:

You’re disgusting

JOE:

I actually threw up

JOE:

…but if it gets you over here, absolutely

I couldn’t help it, I giggled at that, knowing it took everything he had to agree to my terms. Bill cut his eyes toward me before he laid his head back down deciding I wasn’t worth the energy.

Looking down at myself, I couldn’t help but notice I was in an old shirt of Joe’s, and my hair was piled in a bun on the top of my head.

Y/N: I can be there in an hour

JOE: Make it 30 minutes or no chocolate chips

Y/N: JOE! I live on the other side of the city, downtown. I can’t be there in 30 minutes if I want to shower

JOE: Guess you really don’t want those chocolate chips

I whined.

JOE:

Plus…who said you can’t shower here

I blushed at that.

Y/N:

45 minutes and I’ll concede on the whipped cream

JOE:

See you in 45 minutes

JOE:

Should I preheat the shower?

I rolled my eyes and locked my phone, not bothering with a reply.

[Y/N POV]

I spent far too long deciding on what to wear, only to choose an old, worn t shirt and leggings. Comfort seemed to be the right vibes for having an emotionally charged conversation.

Knowing it wouldn’t be the smartest decision to take Joe up on his offer, I chose to shower but forewent washing my hair which had me cutting it awfully close to the 45-minute timeline we agreed on.

But I wasn’t willing to give up my chocolate chips.

My nerves were frayed every minute of the drive to Joe’s house. I nervously tapped my fingers on the steering wheel, music completely off because silence really was the only answer right now for my racing thoughts.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted or expected out of this conversation.

Five months ago, when I walked out of that house, I let the future I thought I had with Joe go.

I rebuilt myself outside of my relationship with him, I found my worth.

I got used to not hearing from him.

Then he had to go and show up when I finally took a step forward and now, I could barely remember why I walked away in the first place.

He was good at that, scrambling my thoughts.

I sat outside the house in my car, swiping my hands on my leggings to get rid of the sweat. I fiddled with my fingers. I redid the messy bun on top of my head four times. I checked my lipstick in the mirror.

But I wasn’t wearing a stitch of makeup.

Anything to avoid facing the moment to come.

Resigned, I plopped my head against the headrest and groaned.

Tap tap

The knock on the drivers side window made me shriek. I clutched my chest and narrowed my eyes when I saw Joe on the other side grinning down at me. He lifted his brow at me, a silent question, before carefully opening the driver’s side door and leaning in.

“Staying out here much longer?”

I huffed out a breath before grumbling and moving to get out of the car. Joe chuckled and shut the door behind me, following me into the house. I didn’t plan to wait for him.

When I walked through the front door, memories of the night before immediately crashed over me thinking about exactly what had happened right there just hours before.

I blushed, feeling the heat up to the tip of my ears.

Caught off guard, Joe placed his hand at the small of my back and gently guided me to the kitchen, where the promised pancakes were already waiting for me. Even the whipped cream he had bargained against.

I walked to the island before I plopped down in the barstool and took a deep breath, the syrupy sweetness better than I remembered.

Joe smiled softly at me before he went to the cabinet and pulled an old LSU mug from the cabinet and poured me a steaming cup of coffee. He moved effortlessly through the kitchen, doctoring up my coffee just the way I always had. Two sugars, a little almond milk. A dash of sugar free caramel syrup.

My heart warmed at the action, realizing Joe hadn’t tried to forget me or that if he had, he wasn’t able to.

He slid the cup across the counter, and I dug into my pancakes while he leaned into the corner of the counter, drinking one of his disgusting protein shakes.

I groaned around the first bite, the buttery goodness a delight in my mouth. I opened my eyes to see Joe with his shaker bottle half raised to his lips, eyes flaring with heat.

“Guess I really missed these pancakes,” I said before ducking my head and digging back in.

Trying to avoid another awkward moment, I refused to look up from my pancakes as I continued eating. I expected the silence to be overwhelming, but I let the moment carry us through finishing our meals. I knew if we started talking before, I was likely to lose my appetite.

“You ever gonna look at me?” Joe asked.

I paused and tightened my grip around the fork.

With a deep breath, I set it down and pushed the plate away before looking in his direction.

I expected to see anger or distrust on his face when I looked up, but what I saw there knocked the wind out of me.

He looked hurt, more than anything.

It made my heart twist.

“Joe…” “Y/n.”

“What do you want me to say?” I whined.

“I want you to start by explaining why you left without saying anything.” His voice was tight, restrained, like he was controlling his words.

I felt my eyes start tearing up at the thought of last night again.

It had felt so good to fall back into bed with Joe.

Well…the stairs. And then the couch.

But as I laid there the night before, drifting in and out of sleep, all I could think about was the times he made me feel small, less than. I knew it wasn’t his fault, the way he would shut down on me. I really did. But it still hurt. I was still putting the pieces of my heart back together after that.

Then being in the same room in the aftermath where it all ended, it broke something in me I thought I never would again.

I took a deep breath, thinking carefully.

“I’m still hurt, Joe,” I admitted softly avoiding his gaze.

Silence.

I rolled my eyes.

Typical.

“So am I,” he admitted softly.

I turned my head sharply to meet his gaze, and I felt the anger rise.

I scoffed at him, disgusted that he was turning this around on me.

I pushed away from the island and turned to leave without another word, but Joe was quick. He caught my wrist in his hand, grounding me to the spot and making it difficult for me to get away.

“Let go of me,” I gritted out through my teeth.

Joe paused but listened, immediately dropping my hand and taking a step back. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh.

I went to say something.

“Just listen for once in your damn life!” Frustration poured from him.

I snapped my mouth shut and sat back down.

“I know I did this to us, did this to myself. I’ll own my shit in this. I messed up, I know I did.” His chest heaved as he struggled to piece together his next thought. “But my whole world was ripped away from me in a matter of months, starting with football and then you…losing the thing keeping what little sanity I had…I-I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was too late.” My shoulders dropped at his admission and I looked Joe in the eyes, seeing nothing but bare honesty reflecting back at me.

I struggled to meet his eyes. I took a deep breath in. Held for three seconds. Breathed out.

I did it again before I could look at him and the pain his eyes held from earlier was still there, matched with concern.

Joe moved to stand at the island counter that was separating us and used the marble countertop to brace himself.

“Just…tell me what’s on your mind. Or what was on your mind last night. Why you left without saying something…just. Just talk to me, please, y/n. I don’t know how to handle not knowing what you’re thinking.”

His tone was laced with a sense of desperation that made me crack.

“I care about you, Joe. Fuck, you know I do.” My words were broken around sobs and Joe’s shoulders dropped.

We stood there in silence for a few moments, letting my words surround us.

Joe moved around the counter to stand by me. He pulled my barstool from the counter, the sound of the legs scraping against the beautiful wood floor screeching. He moved to stand in front of me and placed himself between my legs before he used his thumb and forefinger to hold my chin, so we were making eye contact.

“Then why leave?”

“Joe…it’s not that easy.” I shook my head, brushing his hand from my face. “I can’t let last night mean more than sex.”

Joe’s lips thinned and he stepped back like I physically hurt him. He nodded once, as if he understood what I was saying.

But I don’t think he did.

“So…you just came here because you missed getting fucked or what?” I cringed at his tone. It was cold, detached. I wasn’t used to that version of him. My eyes swelled with tears.

“Fuck you,” I said standing up and walking toward him. I poked his chest with my forefinger. “This…this is exactly why I can’t Joe. You hurt me six months ago. You shut down, went dark on me. Taking it out on me. I was walking around this house like a ghost of myself, afraid to do anything wrong because I knew you were hanging on by a thread.” The tears were pouring down my cheeks now, but I wiped them away, on a roll. “I can’t trust you if you flip on a dime like this still.”

My chest heaved. I wasn’t sure I even took a breath until I was finished.

I watched the moment it dawned on him what he was saying, that he was lashing out.

He leaned back against the cabinets opposite of me before resting his head on the cabinet behind him and closed his eyes, like he was letting my words settle over him.

“Okay.” I stopped breathing for a moment and looked at him with questions all over my face. Joe stood up straighter and looked me in the eyes. “Okay, I get it.” I nodded my head, turning to leave.

“But let me try, please.” His voice broke at the end.

I paused my steps and looked at him, deflated.

“Why, Joe? Why now? What’s different? You can’t change who you are at your core.”

“Because I know what my life is like with you in it and I know what my life is like without you. I’m not ready to go back to not having you in it.”

Joe moved toward me.

“I get that you don’t trust me. I wouldn’t either. I fucked up. I hope you know I never meant to hurt you. That wasn’t who I wanted to be for you, not what you deserved.” He used his arms on either side of me to pin me against the counter before leaning down to press his forehead to mine. “But none of this…none of this is worth it without you.” I couldn’t stop crying with this man, no matter what. Dating, separated, whatever this was…my emotions were always a mess, so I thought about it. If I was going to be upset anyway, would it hurt anything to explore this, to try to rebuild the trust that was once there?

Instead of saying something, I closed my eyes and nodded.

“Okay?” He asked. I opened my eyes and his eyelashes fluttered against mine.

“Okay,” I whispered softly before he pressed his lips to mine.

[Y/N POV]

It had been a few weeks since Joe and I started…whatever it is that we were doing.

We were slowly building something back between us. No labels. No confusion. We were slow, precise. There was a careful tenderness between us, like we were too afraid that something might break the fragile bridge we were rebuilding between us.

Joe was being more careful than I had ever seen him. Hesitant, almost.

He’d send me little things throughout the day. Small updates about what he was doing, a new workout his trainer introduced, a silly meme he saw, anything that made him think of me, is what he said.

JOE:

Why didn’t you tell me the café near the stadium switched to paper straws

Y/N:

Why would I have????

JOE:

Because I know how much you like those little cream cheese pastries and I was going to bring you one with a little drinky-drink

JOE:

But now I learn you didn’t tell me this v important detail and idk if I can trust you anymore

I rolled my eyes.

Y/N: Joseph Lee…

I do not have the patience for you today. My proposal is due in two hours.

JOE:

I know. Look up.

I furrowed my brows at that last message but listened, my eyes scanning the room of fluorescent lights and depressing cubicles.

Then I spotted him. Joe walking through the elevator doors wearing a linen button down, tan shorts and his cartier sunglasses tucked in at the top.

My stomach dipped in happiness and a soft smile found my lips.

A hush fell over the floor and I felt all eyes turn to Joe. Then me. Then back to Joe. Joe just continued walking toward me, head held high and a cheeky grin on his face.

I rolled my eyes at the Nosey Nellies. My life with Joe hadn’t been a secret and they had all witnessed the aftermath of it.

Joe had never met these people before. Always opting out of company events, cocktail hours, normal things. I understood the reasoning, I really did. But that didn’t mean it didn’t do something to me seeing him step into my space, seeing where I felt the most confident.

When he got to where I was standing by my desk, he leaned down and kissed my cheek softly before stepping back. I saw he had a white paper bag in his hand and what looked like an iced lavender honey latte in the other.

My favorite latte.

“Is that what I think it is?” I asked, the smile on my face growing.

He grinned and passed the bag and cup over to me. I took a sip of the drink and was pleasantly surprised to confirm it was in fact my favorite latte that was exclusive to that bakery.

A bakery I hadn’t stepped foot in since the week I walked away from the man standing in front of me.

I groaned softly, savoring the flavors as they rushed through me.

Pulling the cup away from my lips, I quickly darted my tongue out to wipe a drop from the corner of my lips before grinning at Joe who couldn’t stop staring at me.

“Y/n…” he said, voice low.

“Yes?” I put on my most believable innocent smile.

“Open the bag,” he demanded.

Giddily, I set the cup down and opened the bag. Reaching in, I was so happy to see the cream cheese Danish I always used to get before I had a big event, something that was life changing. It was my silly little lucky charm to have one.

I hadn’t had one in months, not wanting to bring on the memories that came with stopping by that cafe.

I melted at the thought of Joe going out of his way to get to the café before they ran out of these and then going in the exact opposite direction to bring it to me.

“You remembered,” I whispered.

“Of course I did,” he said back just as softly, tenderly tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “I knew how important today was for you.”

“Thank you,” my voice was soft.

“Anything. See you tonight?” I nodded and Joe dropped a kiss on my forehead before walking away. Watching his back as he turned away, I flopped into my chair, flying on the buzz of seeing Joe, of the little things I had thought he hadn’t cared to notice before.

[Y/N POV]

The random check-ins didn’t stop.

In fact, as weeks went by, they evolved.

Many nights, we’d find ourselves curled up in our respective beds on FaceTime. We’d stay up for hours talking, from silly things that had happened throughout the day to sometimes deeper things, things we hadn’t talked about in a long time.

The gap between our lives was still there, but we were slowly filling it.

Piece by piece. Night by night.

Joe was taking it slow for my sake, which I really appreciated because while we had already slept together again and were working on reconnecting, my heart was still fragile. I still ached every now and then when I thought about last fall, how dark things had gotten, how I had lost myself. When those thoughts crept in, I did my best to move past them, to put them in a little box and stay present.

One night when Joe was out of town, Vegas I think, he FaceTimed me from his hotel room at an ungodly time in the morning.

“Mmmmm,” I grumbled at the stupid phone, head thrown over my pillow as I blindly searched for the culprit. “Herro,” I mumbled with my head still buried.

Then I heard it.

Giggles.

Manly giggles, but giggles nonetheless.

I suspiciously lifted the pillow from my head to look at the screen and that’s when I caught sight of Joe.

His eyes, red rimmed and glassy. Hair damp, the curls more prominent from the heat of the Vegas sun.

When he stopped swaying and focused on the screen, he screamed, “Baby! It’s youuuuuu. You answered.”

I let out a soft laugh.

Joe was drunk. He didn’t do drunk very well, if at all.

“Joey, are you drunk?” I settled back into my pillows propping my phone on my nightstand before huddling under my blankets.

“Absolutely noooooooot.” I heard laughter in the background followed by shouts.

“He absolutely is, y/n!”

“Don’t believe him!”

“Joey B is such a lightweight.” Joe tried to shut them up with a cutting look, but it came out an adorable pout.

“Joey…baby.” He turned back to look at me through the camera and his face softened.

“Hi pretty girl,” he mumbled.

“Hey handsome.”

“What are you doing?"

I laughed.

“Joe, it’s 3am. I was sleeping.”

His eyes went wide at that.

“Oh nooooo! Baby no, I am so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t think, I know you have w-“

I cut him off before he spiraled.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, my voice rough with sleep. “I missed you. This is worth skipping my morning class to see you like this.”

Joe smiled back at me.

“Hold on,” he muttered and then started walking with his phone in hand. Not long after, I heard the click of the door. Joe must have made his way to his room in the hotel suite.

He moved to the bed, clearly kicking off his shoes before he leaned against the headboard.

“Hi again,” I chuckled.

“I miss you…” My heart melted at that.

“Just two more days,” I offered.

“What if- what if I just come home tomorrow? Or I mean is that technically today? I could get a flight and be there –“ he started rambling, mind going a million miles a minute.

“Joe…I miss you too. But so do your friends. You have to stay. It’s just two more sleeps.”

“But I can’t sleep without you.”

I rolled my eyes at his pout.

“You’ll be fine. You did it for months.” I froze and winced, struck by the bite in my tone at the words. My eyes were tight before I opened them again.

Joe clammed up, I could tell he was holding his breath.

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m sleepy. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s okay if you did,” he said softly.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

“I know you didn’t.” Joe paused and picked at something that wasn’t there on his shirt. “You wouldn’t purposely try to hurt me.” Tears were bridging my eyes. “I’d deserve it, though.” His voice was soft and kind.

“Still shouldn’t have said it,” I mumbled, reaching for my phone to bring him closer. Even though he wasn’t physically here, I wanted him closer.

“Y/n…Can I just…let me say something okay? I have to say it.” Joe sat up a little straighter, his eyes clearing. I could tell he was sobering up, that whatever he was about to say had weight to it.

“Not tonight, Joe,” I whispered.

“Please,” he begged.

“Okay,” my voice was hesitant.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness right now, hell ever. I just need you to know…know that I know what I broke. I didn’t just hurt you; this wasn’t just happening to me. I-I keep thinking about how if I’d just stopped to listen to you, to anyone, taken a moment to step back, get out of my head, we’d still be us. I don’t recognize what my life became without you in it and I..I never want to have to find out. You were – are- my best friend, you know? Even when you left, you were still here.” His hand forms a fist before he puts it over his chest and rubs in circles, like he’s soothing an invisible ache. “Losing that part of us has been harder than I expected. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did… I just wish I’d never done this to you, that I didn’t hurt you like this, that we didn’t have to get here, picking up the pieces.” My face crumbled at his words.

“Joey…”

“Shhh,” he said, seeing the tears on my face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again baby. God knows I’ve done it enough.” I let out a soft chuckle.

“I missed you too, you know,” I mumbled.

“I should come home.” I let out a loud bark of laughter at that, my voice choking around the tears.

“Two days, Joey. Two days. Then you can hold me in your arms again.”

“Promise?” “Always.” We fell asleep that night on FaceTime and I was late to work because my phone had died at some point before I put it back on the charger.

But I went to work with a smile on my face, feeling more like myself as the days passed and we were slowly rebuilding what we once had.

The flowers on my desk the next day, a beautiful arrangement of pink peonies and baby’s breath, with the sweetest note kept my smile plastered on my face as well.

I know last night brought up a lot of feelings that we still need to talk about. We will, I promise. Just know I never meant to hurt you and will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you…starting with beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl.

Yours,

J

[Y/N POV]

Almost two months into moving forward with Joe in my life, and I still hadn’t told the girls about what I was doing.

They knew about the night of sex. I called Cami in a panic, needing a voice of reason to get me through the drive home from his house and she talked me down. By morning, Caroline and Karleigh knew as well.

But I hadn’t told them what we were doing.

I hadn’t told them about breakfast the next morning, the times he showed up during my lunch breaks to take me out, the late nights we’d spend on his couch, pretending to watch a movie when in fact we would just end up making out and touching each other under the blankets like we were teenagers sneaking around.

I wanted to keep it to myself, just to be sure it was real, that this was something worth wanting still.

When I went over to Carolines to watch an episode of The Real Housewives like we did every week, I wasn’t planning to tell them yet.

I’d spent weeks avoiding questions about the apps and how they were going. In truth, I hadn’t thought about them since the night I ran into Joe thought they lurked in the background of my phone hauntingly.

“I just can’t believe they passed me over again, for that dickwad,” Cami grumbled as she took a gulp of red wine from the glass in her hand and tucked her legs under her.

“It’s okay, babe.” Karleigh put her hand on Cami’s leg. “He’s going to flop and they’re going to regret it.” “That doesn’t make it better! I’m going to have to be the one to fix everything.” Her voice came out in a pathetic whine that made us all feel terrible for her.

“We could egg his house?” Caroline suggested, popping a chip into her mouth.

“We absolutely cannot do that,” I said. “We’re adults. We would get in a lot more trouble that we did when we were 15 and did it to Adam Moss.”

Karleigh laughed. “Served him right for ditching Caro the night before homecoming.”

Caroline shrugged.

“We could put peanut butter on his desk phone, so it gets in his ear?”

I looked at her in horror.

“What is wrong with you?” I asked, tossing a pillow at her.

“What?!” “Guys, I’d really like to not lose my job for revenge. Just let me wallow in my self-pity,” Cami said as she flopped dramatically across the couch, her head landing in Caroline’s lap.

“It’s going to be okay,” she cooed, patting Cami’s cheek.

“Okay, okay,” Karleigh said. “We can move on.” She turned and looked at me, raising a brow. “How are the apps going?”

I cringed.

“What’s that look for?” Caroline asked curiously.

“Nothing,” I said quickly.

Cami sat up and suddenly I had three pairs of eyes on me.

“No…” Cami started. “That’s your something voice.” “My something voice?” My voice got high. I heard it. Damn it. She was right. That was the way my voice changed when I tried to hide something. “I don’t have a something voice.” I stood with my glass of wine and looked toward the kitchen. “Anyone else need a refill?” I ran out of the room before anyone could say anything, not wanting to break.

“Y/n…” Karleigh said, an air of suspicion in her tone. “What are you hiding?”

“Do you have any of that cheese you got last time from Trader Joe’s?” I called as I opened the fridge, refusing to acknowledge her.

Cami walked into the room.

“What’s going on?” she asked curiously. I buried my head further into the fridge.

“Ohhh, cheesecake. That might be better.” I grabbed it from the fridge and set it on the counter before moving for a fork.

Karleigh came in as I was shutting the silverware drawer.

“What aren’t you telling us?” she asked, stepping between the cheesecake and me.

I tried to dodge her.

“Y/N!” Caroline yelled from the living room. “What the fuck?!”

She shuffled into the kitchen not long after her outburst. Karleigh and Cami turned toward her, waiting to figure out what she was yelling about.

But I knew the second I saw my phone in her hand.

I slumped against the kitchen sink.

“It’s nothing!” Cami and Karleigh kept darting their eyes between us.

“This is absolutely not nothing.” She waved my phone in the air as I looked at her with pleading eyes.

“What are we missing?" Karleigh asked, stepping between us and reaching for my phone in Caro’s hand.

It was handed over and Cami made her way over to huddle around my phone with Caroline and Karleigh. I shook my head, resigned, and closed my eyes.

Karleigh snapped her head in my direction.

“No…” she whispered with Cami still looking at my screen intently.

I just nodded my head.

“How long?!” “Why?!”

“When?!” “What were you thinking?!” “He’s such a dick! Absolutely not.” “Talk about someone who deserves their house egged…”

“I don’t understand…” Their voices kept rising, talking over each other while I just stood there.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Cami asked, ever the voice of reason.

I stood up straighter and finally looked at them before reaching for my phone.

“Because I didn’t want to hear…all of this!” I waved my hands at them, annoyed. “Especially not while we’re still…figuring out what this is.”

“You still could have told us,” Karleigh said, crossing her arms.

“Could I have?” My brow lifted in question.

“Yes,” Caroline said. “You’ve been weird for weeks! Why not just be honest, why make us find out this way?” I glared. “You wouldn't have found out this way if you hadn’t snooped through my phone.” Caroline glared. “I wouldn’t have snooped if you had just told us!”

Our voices were getting louder.

Cami stepped between us.

“Time out.” Her voice was short. “Take a breather.”

We stood there in silence for a few minutes.

“We’re just worried about you, y/n,” Karleigh said softly.

Tears welled in my eyes.

“I know. I appreciate that. But…” I paused. “I don’t know guys. It’s fragile right now. I’m still fragile. I just…I don’t know what this means or even what it’s going to look like, and I wasn’t ready for all the questions. I knew you’d have a million and I don’t even have the answers.”

I watched their faces register what I was saying, saw the realization hit them.

“We just want you to feel like you can talk to us,” Caroline said, wrapping me in a side hug.

I leaned my head on her shoulder.

Karleigh came and stood on the other side of me while Cami stood in front of me. I slid my phone in my back pocket.

“When?” Cami asked, no judgement in her tone.

I looked at them all hesitantly before I moved toward the bottle of wine and poured myself a glass, walking into the living room and they followed.

I sat on the couch and pulled the throw over my lap. I swirled my glass of wine before I launched into the story of my date with Brayden, Joe showing up, me leaving, going to his house…sneaking out on him. All the mixed feelings that came with it. I poured my heart out.

“But…I’m scared, you guys,” I admitted. “He’s saying all the right things, doing all the right things…but this is Post-Season Joe. This isn’t Football Joe. This isn’t Injured Joe. I don’t…I’m scared I can’t trust him and sometimes I wish I would have told you sooner because it’s so hard to think like this and not share it with you guys because lord knows I can’t tell him, at least right now and…” I gasped for air, my thoughts racing as my words fell.

“Shhh,” Cami soothed and they all crowded around me closer.

Karleigh pulled me into her for a hug, and I collapsed in her arms, finally letting out some of the things I had been holding back, relief flooding me at finally being able to talk about it.

“If you really want to do this again, we support you,” Cami said and the other two nodded. “But just…go slow.” “It’s easy for him to make promises and apologize, but they’re just words, y/n” Caroline said quietly. “Remember consistency is what really shows he’s changed. Don’t try to fast forward or hit pause just because he’s familiar to you.”

“Let him earn your trust, prove that he deserves access to you. It takes time to rebuild that trust. There’s no shortcut back, not after he broke your trust like that,” Karleigh voiced.

“I don’t want to have too much hope or put too much pressure on him.” I played with my fingers, not meeting their gazes. They just looked at me with soft understanding.

“It’s okay to have hope.” Cami pulled me closer. “But you don’t owe him anything you aren’t ready to give him. Don’t forget to choose yourself this time. You’ve grown so much without him…don’t let him shrink you again.” I choked on a sob and nodded, burying my head in her neck.

“And just remember…we’ll be your Mary Ann to your Wanda if you ever need it,” Caroline said.

I laughed and nodded, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

I felt better, having talked to them. I should have known in the end they would support me, that I truly shouldn’t have been worried. But it felt like if I told them, I’d have to unpack everything I had been trying to forget happened with Joe and I hadn’t been ready to face that just yet.

But these were my girls. I never should have doubted they would be on my side for a second.

[JOE POV]

On my way to pick up y/n before we went out to a movie, I left 20 minutes early so I could stop to grab a bouquet of wildflowers. I wanted her to have something to smile about the next few days when I wasn’t around.

I poured over the decisions at the florist and refused to accept any tips on what would look best, letting myself pick out flowers to make a bouquet that reminded me of her. I mixed and matched flowers, some bright hues with unique shapes, clean stems, big, loud, happy. All things I thought of when y/n came to mind.

Once I was happy with the selection, I paid and went to my car, setting the brown paper wrapped bouquet softly on the seat next to me in my Cadillac.

Every time I saw y/n since the restaurant that night, I knew how lucky I was that she was willing to let me back in her life, even if it was slowly. I could tell she was still reserved and I understood why.

I ruined years of foundation between us.

I deserved her hesitancy.

I’d do whatever it took for me to prove myself to her again.

She deserved that from me.

After pulling up to her apartment and parking, I grabbed the flowers and walked to her door.

When I knocked, I heard a quick, “Coming!” before noise rustling on the other side and grumbling accompanied by the sound of something heavy falling.

I chuckled to myself and shook my head. Some things never changed.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly as she opened the door.

She looked beautiful, taking my breath away at the sight of her in a sundress and sandals, her hair flowing freely.

“Hey beautiful.” I smiled at her and extended the bouquet of flowers to her.

She raised them to her nose and took a breath in, the crease between her brows easing.

“They’re beautiful, Joe.” Her voice was soft, delicate. It softened me to see how serene she looked now. “Come in.” She moved away from the door to let me in and as I passed her, I dipped down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just going to put these in water.” She rushed out of the room but not before I caught the blush spreading across her cheeks.

I walked further into her place and looked around. For the most part since we reconnected, it was usually us going out somewhere or her coming over. I hadn’t had the chance yet to see the place she had made her home in the time we had been apart.

It surprised me the way she had decorated the living room. It was warm and inviting, bright art on the wall, a colorful mixed pattern carpet, and a simple two-seater couch that looked like a cloud. I looked over the art on her walls, admiring that she hung so many pictures of her life over the years.

It only made my heart pinch a little to notice how absent I was as my eyes traced the photos ahead of me. I knew why, but it served as a painful reminder.

As I continued to wander the room and take in these new pieces of her life that I saw, I found myself lost in it until I felt something against my leg. I jumped and let out a tiny shriek.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked, rushing into the room.

I caught my breath and looked down, pointing to the orange ball of fur at my feet.

“Oh!” She grinned brightly. “That’s just Bill.” She picked him up and held him to her, nuzzling her head into his.

“Bill?” I asked incredulously. “Since when do you have a cat named Bill?” She shrugged before passing him off to me. I held him in my hands, my arms outstretched.

The cat gave me what I swear was an unamused look and I just looked at him unsure.

Y/n flitted out of the room and continued rummaging through her cabinets before I heard the water running. She must have been getting a vase for the flowers.

Bill just stared at me as I held him away awkwardly. Stiffly, I walked over to the couch before setting him down. He meowed at me before he walked away and curled into the other end of the couch.

“I got him around Christmas!” she yelled. “I hadn’t planned to get a cat, I didn’t even really think I liked them. But I saw him and…I don’t know. Something inside of me just told me I had to bring him home.”

I sat down on the couch, trying to keep my distance from the cat.

I didn’t trust him. He clearly didn’t trust me. I sat there in discomfort with my hands on my thighs.

“I never really…” my voice caught on my words. “I didn’t really think you ever wanted animals?”

Y/n came into the room, a smile on her face.

“I didn’t either.” She shrugged. “But I don’t know…I think a lot of it was the uncertainty, ya know?” Her head tilted to the side, contemplating. “I wasn’t sure we’d be able to handle it or even be around to take care of anything more than a plant. And with your schedule and mine…I don’t know. But being here…I was kind of lonely being alone for the first time in my adult life.”

I sat there silently, letting her explanation roll over me as I glanced around the room again.

She was different now, that was for certain. It wasn’t a terrible thing, but I had to learn new things about her every day.

I’d never ever really thought of asking her before if she wanted animals in our house. I just…assumed. She never brought it up; I never thought I wanted them because of the work they took. But seeing the way she loved Bill, the way she fit her life around his, having cat toys scattered across her living room, a scratching post by the window…

Thinking back to it…her home here was much livelier than what we had together.

Our home was more muted in colors, brown, grey, white. Simple. Clean. Magazine ready, really. But this…what she was surrounded by…it oozed life, happiness. I couldn’t help but think of other things she may have wanted but hadn’t explored. Maybe she hadn’t known she had wanted it because of me?

“Anyway!” she turned around and grabbed her jean jacket from the closet before slipping it on. “You ready? You owe me the biggest bag of popcorn, Burrow.” Her grin was infectious and I couldn’t help but chuckle as I stood.

“Let’s go, pretty girl.” I held my hand out for her to grab and I pulled her into me. I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers softly and she leaned into me.

“What’s that for?” she asked breathlessly.

“Because I can.” I shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in my life.

Because truthfully, loving y/n really was that simple.

 [Y/N POV]

As one of our evenings was ending, Joe sat relaxed behind the wheel of his Range Rover, leaned back in his seat with his hand resting on the bottom of the steering wheel with the other behind my seat as he drove to his house without even asking if I was staying the night, not that I minded.

“Oh…so you just assumed I was a sure bet, Burrow?” I asked playfully as I quirked a brow at him and grinned.

Joe didn’t take his eyes from the road, just reached over and placed his hand on my exposed thigh thanks to the skirt I was wearing. His hand was warm, surprisingly soft, as he rested it there and gently squeezed.

“I had hoped.” A grin spread across his face and I chuckled.

Leaning over the center console, I kissed his cheek and said, “Well the good news is…I am.”

He shook his head and let out a chuckle, never removing his hand. I sat there staring at his profile as I took in the peace on his face, how calm he looked.

It was rare that Joe was this free, but since coming back into each other’s lives, I was seeing this side of him a lot more. I really liked what I was seeing these days.

Music played softly as the silence enveloped us. It wasn’t that abrasive silence that filled awkward moments. It felt calm, like we didn’t have to talk and could just…be. Joe had always made me feel like that, at least before. It filled my heart with happiness, hope that we might actually be okay this time around thanks to growing up and apart separately.

I had a smile on my face that I could feel blooming. Joe looked over at me briefly, giving me his bright grin, before he gently squeezed my thigh and moved his hand higher before he returned his eyes to the road.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin and I shivered in anticipation.

“Joe…” He hummed in response. His fingers danced higher on the inside of my thighs and I leaned back, slightly spreading my thighs more.

Joe chuckled darkly at that.

“Not gonna argue?” he asked.

I shook my head briefly as his fingers continued their path, tracing the inside of my thighs higher and higher… then sighing as he eased them back each time he brushed the hem of my panties. I groaned as Joe continued to torture me, my breath picking up in anticipation but falling each time he backed away.

The smile never left Joe’s face. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes, delighted at the reactions he was eliciting out of me. As his hand skated up my thigh again, I gently grabbed his hand and laced his fingers with mine, holding him near my heated core.

Joe tightened his hand on the steering wheel as I held his hand in place, dancing our fingers along the seam of my panties, teasingly dipping them under the cotton. Joe groaned deeply as I guided his hand through my folds, gliding his finger through the desire that was pooling.

“What’re you doing, baby?” His voice was rough and desire soaked every word.

“Nothing…” I said coyly, still working our fingers under my skirt. Joe’s face tightened and I felt the speed of the car pick up slightly. “Joey.” I giggled. “Patience, baby. You wouldn’t want to be pulled over and have to stop, would you?”

He lifted his foot from the pedal slightly; body still tense in anticipation. I lined my index finger up with his and used my hand to guide both of our fingers gently into my core. There was a slight stretch as my body adjusted to our fingers. Joe groaned and curled his finger, brushing the tips of our fingers just there over my sensitive nerves. I jumped slightly, my walls tightening around our fingers as I tipped my head back and let out a light moan.

“That’s it, baby. Just relax.” His voice was like gravel, thick with desire as he took control and worked our fingers through my mess, never taking his eyes from the road. When I managed to open my eyes, I glanced at him and could see how affected he was by the tightness near his eyes, his grip on the wheel and the pronounced bulge in his pants. I let out a deep moan and licked my lips at the sight, Joe’s pace increasing as he realized what I was looking at. “Yeah baby, that’s all for you.”

I keened at his words and could feel my release nearing as he continued to work me to the edge, alternating between quick pumps of our fingers to gentle curls of our fingers along that desirable bundle of nerves.

I dug the back of my head into the headrest as Joe took control, my hips rolling into his movements, my back arching as I tried to chase the friction, needing more.

I whined as Joe slowed his movements, dragging our fingers against my walls, pulling all the way out.

I was breathless.

“Please,” I whimpered.

“Please what, baby?” I could hear the smirk in his voice as my eyes screwed shut, stars dancing behind my eyes. My hips were slowly grinding in circles in time with his movements.

“More,” I gasped out. “I’ms’close,” my words ran together.

Joe chuckled at the whine in my voice, sending a wave of pleasure through me as he continued his strokes.

“Whatever my girl wants.” He picked up his pace, his palm grazing briefly over my clit on occasion sending bolts of pleasure down my spine. “That’s it, baby. You should see your face right now…”

My hand at my side clenched and unclenched around nothing. I tried to hold onto the seat, the console, anything for purchase to hold off my orgasm but as I writhed in my seat, nothing helped. It was overwhelming, the pleasure Joe was giving me. Desperate, my fingers wove through his hair, and I gave a tug that caused a groan to escape Joe as he kept going.

His pace was relentless as he kept bringing me to the edge and stopping just before my orgasm would crest.

“Please,” ripped from my throat as Joe curled his fingers inside me again. “Please, please, please.” I was begging and gripping Joe’s hair tighter, which only seemed to spur him on.

“C’mon baby, aren’t you going to come for me?”

I tried to glare in his direction, but I couldn’t open my eyes. The pleasure he was bringing me was too much to focus on.

“You’re so close…you feel s’good around my fingers, you know that baby? Can’t wait to have you in my bed later.”

I let out a broken cry at his words and his movements sent me over the edge. My vision turned spotty and I swear, fireworks erupted.

Joe let out a deep, almost sinister laugh that aided in the pleasure rolling off me.

“Hey pretty girl,” he coaxed softly.

I opened my eyes slowly and looked at him to see him grinning back at me. I blushed as he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and then he proceeded to take our fingers that were soaked in my release and place them against his tongue before he wrapped his lips around our fingers and rolled his tongue over them, making sure to drink in every bit of me.

I let out an embarrassing whine as he released my finger and set my hand gently in my lap.

“We’re home,” he pointed out as the garage door opened in front of us. I blushed at the fact that I had been so lost in our moment I hadn’t even realized we came to a stop. “You good?” I nodded, my head still thrown back, catching my breath.

We sat there for a few minutes, our breaths calming down. When Joe went to open his door, I stopped him with my hand on top of his.

“Wait,” I said and he stopped moving and turned to face me. Without saying anything, I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to face him and put my hand on his chest.

I pulled his face to mine in a sensual kiss, our lips in sync as they moved against each other. My hand skated down his pecks, over his defined abs, before skimming the front of his pants. I felt Joe’s cock jump at the feel.

Joe pulled away from me and looked confused.

“You deserve to feel good too…”

“That was as much for me as it was for you,” he said.

“Still.” My hand brushed over his cock again before moving up. I used my finger to trace the band of his pants before finding the button and popping it open. “I want this.”

“Baby…” he groaned as my hand wrapped around his cock. It was heavy and warm in my hand, and I let out a soft moan, causing him to grow. “Not in the car.”

I smirked and put my lips against his neck, softly kissing before I gently sucked to leave a mark.

“Mmmm.” I groaned into his neck. “Yes in the car. Need you now. Wanna be thinking about your cock down my throat every time we’re in here.”

My hand kept pumping as I scattered kisses over Joe. His head tipped back, his face twisted in a mix of pleasure and restraint.

Wordlessly, he pressed a button which caused his seat to recline and provide more space between him and the steering wheel.

I chuckled at that, knowing this was him giving in.

“You don’t get to complain about your neck in the morning.”

“Deal,” I easily agreed before I pulled his cock from his pants.

A bead of precum was already at the tip. I removed my hand and placed it in front of Joe, asking him to spit before I used the moisture from his lips to help glide my hand up and down his cock. Red hit the tips of Joe’s ears, like he was embarrassed.

Joe let out a low groan before he said my name. I smirked, watching him lose himself in his pleasure. I leaned in again and kissed him deeply and he snaked his tongue out against mine, a battle between the two of us for who would get the upper hand.

I slipped my heels off as I tucked my feet underneath me and bent over the console further.

“I wanna suck your dick, Joey,”

“It’s yours baby. I need your lips around my cock so bad,” he begged. His hand rested on the side of my neck before he moved to twist in the back of my hair, guiding my mouth to his glistening cock. I wrapped my lips around his tip and swirled my tongue around the head before dipping my tongue along his slit, causing Joe to grip my hair tighter.

I tightened my grip around his cock, using my hand and the dribbles of spit falling from my mouth as friction as my mouth slid further down.

Joe’s hand acted as a guide for my head as my mouth moved, my tongue on the underside of his cock running along the smooth skin and tracing the thick vein there. I slipped him further in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat and let out a strangled groan as Joe held my head there, my nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock.

A choked sound slipped from his lips at the vibrations of my throat that caused me to smirk.

His grip on my hair tightened and Joe groaned out, “That’s a good girl.” He gasped and used his hand to guide the tempo of my movements as he twitched in my mouth. “Yessss,” he groaned. “That’s it, baby. Take me all the way down the back of your throat like I know you can.

I whimpered as his movements got jerkier, never once taking my mouth from his cock as he got more erratic in his movements. I sucked him deeper, if possible.

“C’mon, baby, show me how your throat was made for me.” His hips thrust his cock further down my throat and I swallowed thickly as I felt him slip further. “That’s it, baby.” His movements kept going, sporadic like he was out of control. As I bobbed up, I lightly dragged my teeth on the underside of his cock, causing him to shiver and tense up. “Dangerous game, baby.”

I smirked and continued, looking up at him from under hooded eyes.

“You like sucking my dick, don’t you?” He wasn’t looking for an answer but continued to work my mouth over him, taking the pleasure I was giving him. “That’s right pretty girl. You do. You like taking my dick all the way to the back of your throat.” My breathing was ragged, my core squeezing around nothing as he continued to talk me through his orgasm.

I was fairly certain he might be able to make me cum again, just from his words surrounding us in the car alone.

“Oh, pretty girl.” His voice was dark. “This is getting to you, isn’t it?” I closed my eyes at his words, continuing to work his cock through my lips, my hand squeezing the base before I gently cupped his balls in one hand. I held them there, my tongue leaving my mouth to lick and suck them into my mouth.

I released them on a pop and quickly slid Joe to the back of my throat again, my hips grinding my core into the balls of my feet, the friction there providing a little relief before I leaned further into him.

“’m close,” he groaned and I hummed around him.

Joe exploded in my mouth, filling me. I swallowed thickly as I pulled away and grinned at him.

“Fuck, you always look so pretty with your mouth full of my cock,” he groaned as he gazed into my eyes.

He pulled my lips to his and kissed me feverishly.

I pulled back from his lips with a slick smile on my face and he looked at me with dazed eyes, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. My tongue slipped from my mouth and dipped out to lick up a bit of cum that had spilled in our aftermath.

In a bratty move, I moaned exaggeratedly with the movement, rolling my hips as I felt heat rush to my core again in anticipation.

Joe huffed out a laugh and leaned against his seat, adjusting it back to normal position as I watched him with a delirious smile on my face. He groaned.

“C’mon, pretty girl. I’m not done with your mouth.”

I giggled and followed him out of the car, abandoning my heels in the front seat before racing up the stairs.

[Y/N POV]

It was the middle of the summer, and I headed over to Joe’s after work with a plan for us to relax in his backyard, have a bonfire, and just be there, under the stars in our own little bubble. We had agreed earlier in the week to a lowkey evening at home.

However, the moment I walked in, my thoughts of letting go with Joe went out the window.

His house was chaos.

He had the nutritionist and chef in the kitchen, ingredients spread all over the counter.

Organic this.

Grass fed that.

Supplements spread out.

It was loud. It was bright.

I walked past the kitchen and further into the dining room, and saw Joe sitting at the table, his agent and publicist on either side of him.

“No, he can’t do that appearance…that’s the middle of the season!”

“Well, he owes them something. He has other obligations too.”

They bickered back and forth while Joe sat between them, a look of amusement on his face, like he was a kid realizing he was about to get two Christmases now that his parents split.

I stood there frozen. My chest tightened.

Football… they were talking football.

Because that was Joe’s job.

Not like I had forgotten…but I had blocked it out of my mind.

But the season was fast approaching. There was no hiding from it, especially with the chaos the house was already in, and training camp hadn’t even started.

Training camp.

My mind blanked.

It was July.

That meant training camp was coming soon.

I stood there, unsure if I was breathing, and bit my lip.

Joe’s head rose and the smile that crossed his face had me sucking in breaths of air again.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said softly before pushing away from the table and making his way to me.

He pulled me into his arms before taking my lips in the sweetest kiss that had my knees melting.

“Hi,” I said, hiding my face in his shirt at how affectionate he was being.

He never used to kiss me like that in front of people, let alone people who worked for him.

It was new. It had butterflies erupting in my stomach.

“We’re just wrapping up here with a few more details. Why don’t you change and pick out a movie or something and the house should be clear by the time you’re done?” he suggested.

I rolled my lips.

“I think I’m going to go take a shower, if that’s okay?”

Joe smiled.

“Of course. Shouldn’t be long.” I nodded and took a step back, but Joe gently pulled me in and planted a kiss on top of my head before he released me.

“Missed you,” he whispered softly.

I nodded, a hesitant smile crossing my lips.

“Joe, come tell her that you…” his agent started and Joe rolled his eyes before playfully swatting at my butt, shooing me from the room.

I took a breath as I crossed through the threshold of the room and made my way to the stairs.

Football.

It was coming soon.

My chest tightened.

I knew it was inevitable that the season would come back around but I hadn’t really thought about what that would mean for us yet. I didn’t dare let it slip into my mind in fear of the unknown. However, I didn’t have the luxury of forgetting about it anymore, not after it smacked me in the face when I walked in the house earlier.

I made my way to Joe’s room, setting my purse and overnight bag on the chair in the corner. I slipped into the bathroom, turning the dials on the large walk-in shower that was surrounded by glass and several shower heads placed in all different directions.

When my clothes were off and in the hamper, I made my way to the shower, testing the water before I stepped under the spray of warm water.

Once the water hit, I visibly relaxed, some of the tension melting away from me as I closed my eyes and let the water cascade over me.

I’m not sure how long it was before I heard the bathroom door open and the sound of clothes hitting the floor, but I felt the breeze of the shower door opening before I felt Joe wrap his arms around me and pull me further under the water, submerging both of us.

I leaned into him, letting him hold me up.

He leaned down and brushed his lips on my shoulder, placing soft kisses up my neck before he swiped his lips over mine with gentle movement. He slipped his tongue in as they parted on a moan.

“Love the sounds you make for me, baby,” he groaned, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck before he pulled me closer. “Missed you.”

I pressed myself into him, needing to feel him near me, and kissed him deeper.

I let myself get swept up by Joe at that moment, allowing myself one more night to pretend that a football schedule wasn’t about to rule the next 7-8 months of my life

[Y/N POV]

After the first week of training camp started, Joe and I decided to have some people over to his house before things were in full swing.

We used to do this all the time, have people over for a movie, throw steaks on the grill and just… be. We hadn’t done that much since finding each other again. It wasn’t that we hadn’t wanted to, but we were happy with the little bubble we created. We spent time together with our friends as a couple, but we hadn’t tried to manage his friends and mine at the same time since long before his injury.

So, when Robin suggested a cookout before Joe really dialed in his diet and he seemed excited about the idea, we thought it would be a good time to try.

I was in the kitchen, prepping the steaks while Robin worked on the salad. Everyone was in the kitchen with us, either helping or standing around snacking and catching up.

Joe walked into the kitchen and made his way to the fridge. As he passed me, he playfully swatted my back side and planted a kiss on my cheek, causing a blush to rise on my cheeks.

My mom cooed from where she stood chopping potatoes. My dad followed behind Joe not long after.

“Anyone want a beer?” Joe asked as he picked through the fridge as my dad took a seat at the counter.

After divvying out drinks to those who asked, the conversation in the room turned up. I was trying to pay attention to what Robin and my mom were talking about, but Joe was standing close to me as I worked. He had his fingers looped through the beltloops of my shorts, like he was anchoring himself to me, as he talked to Ja’Marr and Jimmy about something or another.

It felt good to be here, this room full of life for the first time in a long time.

Cami playfully threw a carrot at Caroline for something she said, but Caro caught it with her mouth causing everyone to cheer.

As I flipped the steaks on the plate to season the other side, that was when I heard it.

“So, when is she moving back in?” Ja’Marr asked as he leaned against the counter and took a pull from the bottle in his hand.

Joe shrugged carelessly, pulling me toward him gently.

I tensed up. Waited.

“Probably October or November.” “During the season?” Tee asked, curiosity in his tone.

Joe shrugged, like he hadn’t even thought about it much.

Caroline, Karleigh and Cami stared at me, their brows furrowed in question.

Cami’s eyes softened when she looked at my face, clearly seeing something that I wasn’t sure of.

“You okay?” she mouthed.

I gave a subtle shake of my head before wiping my hands on a kitchen towel.

Our mothers were chatting around us. The guys started talking about some video game that was coming out. Jimmy walked with my dad to the backyard to show him a new grilling thermometer Joe had bought.

And I just stood there, my gaze zeroed in on a piece of pepper that must have missed the steak. I didn’t blink, my jaw tensed, all the while Joe just stood there like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

“I bet you’re excited to be parking in the heated garage again this winter,” my mom said.

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged like I hadn’t thought much about it.

Truth was…I hadn’t.

We hadn’t talked about this yet but Joe just dropped that I would be moving in so casually.

The thing was…I liked how things were right now. I liked my queen size bed that was piled high with blankets because on nights Joe stayed over, we huddled close but the nights he didn’t, it felt like sinking into a cloud. I liked coming home from work and throwing my shoes in the middle of the room, not caring about them being in the way for anyone else. We were still finding our rhythm back together and it still felt fragile at times, like with one wrong move it would all come crumbling down.

Joe tensed beside me and dropped his fingers from my belt loop before standing a little straighter and giving me a puzzled look. I didn’t meet his eyes.

I took a deep breath in and held it before letting it out through my mouth. I repeated it a couple of times. Joe stood next to me, patient but unassuming.

It was clear there was something on my mind.

He tilted his head, asking without saying words if I wanted to step out of the room.

I shook my head softly and took the plate of steaks out to where our dads stood around the grill. I handed my dad the plate.

“Thanks, daddy,” I said softly before stepping away.

I walked back in the house using the side door, so I could sneak into the garage for a few minutes alone.

I leaned against one of the shelves in there, letting it hold me up, as my mind raced and panic set in.

I must’ve been there longer than I thought because Joe walked into the garage and a look of relief crossed his face when he found me. He stepped back through the door and shouted, “Found her!” Before he walked toward me and pulled me into his arms.

“There you are,” he mumbled against my forehead before he pressed his lips there.

I didn’t say anything, but I tensed in his arms. He pulled away from me.

Everything okay?” His voice was caring as he asked. He took my cheeks gently in both hands, his thumbs resting under my eyes as he soothingly rubbed the apples of my cheeks.

My voice caught in my throat. I went to speak but closed my mouth.

There was a frown on his face. But this wasn’t the time or place.

“Just a lot going on in there,” I mumbled, leaning my forehead into his shoulder.

Joe’s arms tightened around me.

“Yeah…a lot of people,” he agreed, squeezing my hips gently. “We’ll talk later?” he mumbled into the side of my hair.

I nodded.

We’d have to.

By 9 o’clock the last of the stragglers were leaving. Robin and Jimmy gave me big hugs with promises to see me soon and I returned the sentiment.

Joe walked his parents to the door and gave his mom a big hug. Jimmy clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Be good to her,” Jimmy instructed. Joe laughed.

“Forever,” he promised.

My breath caught at that.

Forever. Such a big word.

The room spun as I continued to load the dishwasher, my thoughts weighing me down. I couldn’t slow my brain down enough to even pick one to think through and it was overwhelming my senses.

I hadn’t noticed Joe come back into the room until his hands found my hips, startling me.

“Let’s do them later,” he mumbled into the side of my neck, fingers kneading my hips.

I stepped out of his embrace.

“I want to do them tonight,” I said softly.

Joe nodded and started washing some dishes by hand as I continued to load it.

A few minutes later, Joe broke the silence.

“You wanna tell me what that was about earlier?” His voice was quiet but curious.

I froze, bent over the dishwasher, before I stood to face him.

“I didn’t know you thought I was moving back in.”

There it was.

Joe paused and set the dish in his hands down before he turned to look at me, confusion gracing his face.

The silence was sharp and loaded between us as we stared each other down.

Me, full of barely restrained anger and confusion. Joe…oblivious.

“I thought we were moving forward. I thought getting back together meant… that. Eventually at least.”

My shoulders dropped and I looked at the counter.

“You just…you didn’t even ask. You just assumed I’d be coming back?” My voice was quiet, almost broken. “Joe…I like the way things are right now.” Joe looked at me like I had struck him.

“So…you don’t want to move back in.” He turned and angrily picked up a sponge. “Got it. Understood. Not moving forward.”

Tears were welling in my eyes.

“That’s not fair…” Joe scoffed at that.

“Don’t,” I said sharply. “Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss me, what I’m saying, like it’s not a big deal.”

Joe stopped and turned to look at me, drying his hands off.

“What do you want me to say, y/n? I thought things were good, I thought they were going back to normal.”

He stood a little straighter.

I looked at him with barely restrained anger.

“That’s the problem!” I burst out, my voice high and frantic. “That’s what I’m afraid of. We haven’t even really gotten into training camp yet. This is where you usually start to disappear on me, where everything becomes football and schedules and neat little controlled boxes.” My chest heaved. “It’s where I start to disappear,” I trailed off.

I think Joe would have been more surprised if I had slapped him.

He stood there, crossed his arms and his jaw ticked like he was holding himself back.

“I don’t know why you’re reacting like this. You knew about my schedule when we got back together, you knew who I was.” He stood there, his head held high and I felt a little piece of my heart break as I stared at him.

“So…just because I knew before, I don’t get to be unsure about the future?” I scoffed in disbelief.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” “It feels like you’re saying exactly that.” “Why are you reacting like this?” he asked, running a hand through his hair.

“Because I’m fucking terrified Joe!” I burst out, raising my hands in frustration. “Because I’m afraid to move back in and have my world orbit around you again, only for you to push me into a neat little box and only take me out when it’s convenient for you.” I heaved in a breath, struggling to get a full one.

“Why are you acting like you already know how this is going to go?!” he raised his voice and I took a step back.

I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. It just surprised me the anger in his tone.

“Because,” I started. “Because it always happens. You push me away; you focus in on the season and I just…I disappear. And I’m so damn terrified of losing myself again.” I choked on a sob and watched Joe’s face drop in confusion.

“Do you really think I’d let you do that? Let myself be in a position to lose you again?” His voice was quiet, even. Like he was in disbelief.

“I think…I think you do it unknowingly.” I snapped my mouth shut, surprised at my vulnerability. Joe staggered back and braced himself on the counter like I had physically moved him.

He stood there, shaking his head like he was ridding himself of thoughts.

“So…what do you want me to do? Pretend like I don’t want you here? That I don’t love coming home and seeing you dance in the kitchen as you make a snack? That I don’t need you to fall asleep in my arms for me to finally relax and let the day go?” he asked.

“I think you should have waited to talk to me before deciding for me.”

Joe nodded. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said anything like it was already decided.”

I nodded and my shoulders dropped a smidge.

The silence of the room enveloped us.

“So.”

“So.”

“What do we do?” Joe asked, letting me take the lead.

“I think…I think I go home tonight. You stay here.” I looked at him hesitantly and saw the pain flicker across his face. “We take a few days to…to think. To figure out if this is what we really want, if this is something we want to keep fighting for. Or-“ My eyes shuttered. “Or if we move on. For good.”

Tears burned my eyes and threatened to spill. I was sick over the words, wanted to do anything I could to take them back. The pain I saw on Joe’s face rocked me to my core.

“Have the last few months really meant that little?” he whispered. I went to say something, anything, but he continued, “Never mind.” Joe kissed my cheek as he walked away.

I stood there in the kitchen and looked around, wondering how things had taken such a drastic turn. Quickly, with tears silently falling, I moved to the front door to grab my purse and put on my sandals. I tried to turn the door handle, but my hand kept slipping before I was finally able to grasp it and open the door.

I shut the door softly behind me and finally let out the sob that had been building in the back of my throat.

[JOE’S POV]

Walking into my room, I avoided looking at the bed where I had been hoping Y/N would be sleeping tonight. It was quiet in the house.

The silence should have been peaceful, but it was loud.

So loud.

I couldn’t escape from my own mind.

I knew I handled it poorly with y/n, but the hurt I felt made me snap.

I hadn’t realized…I took a breath, composing myself.

I hadn’t really realized until now, how much I really had fucked this up. Not just tonight, long before now.

I thought with therapy that I had done the work.

But I hadn’t, not really. I was still being selfish with Y/N.

I hadn’t done anything yet to show y/n just how changed I was and I couldn’t blame her. Not really. Especially not with the season fast approaching.

While it hurt…part of me understood.

Especially after tonight.

Tonight…tonight I really did show her how little about me had changed.

I sat on the bed and reached for my phone on the nightstand and unlocked it.

I scrolled to her name.

JOE:

I’m sorry

Can you just tell me you’re okay?

Something.

Anything.

Please.

Silence.

She hadn’t even read it.

Early hours of the morning…

JOE: We shouldn’t have left it like that

Y/N: You’re right

JOE: it just feels like you’re punishing me for something that hasn’t happened

Y/N: You broke my heart. You don’t automatically get all of me again. You never even asked.

Y/N:

I don’t owe you certainty right now. Not before the season even starts.

JOE: If you love me the way you say you do you would have had an honest conversation with me without flipping out

Y/N: If you had loved me the way you said you did this wouldn’t even be up for discussion.

LATER

JOE: I hate that you’re the only person I want to talk to but that you can’t stand to talk to me

MORE TIME HAS PASSED

Y/N: I feel stupid writing this. I just miss you.

DELETE

I need you to understand something.

DELETE

I’m sorry I wasn’t all in. I couldn’t be. Not after last time.

SENT

HOURS LATER

JOE: Things don’t feel right without you. The house…it’s not the same. It’s worse than last time… I know you’re probably rolling your eyes right now but idk

NEXT DAY

JOE: Hey. I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing okay. No pressure to reply I get it

Silence.

JOE: I’m sorry.

JOE:

I’ll stop

Y/N: I’m not trying to punish you. I was scared to give you everything again and finding myself back where I started. Alone. Half of who I am.

Y/N:

I don’t know how to go back to…before. To last summer. When it was still good. Where I felt whole.

JOE: I’m here for whatever version of us I’m allowed to have.

[Y/N POV]

For days, I kept replaying that night in Joe’s kitchen in my mind.

I wasn’t sure how I had let things get that bad or why I let Joe walk away from me.

Maybe it was what we needed in that moment. Or maybe I was scared.

The days were dragging. I would wake up, drink a cup of coffee. Feed Bill. Barely make it to the office in time. I worked through lunch most days, my mind in a daze and unfocused. After work, I’d come home and either immediately go to bed or collapse on the couch and sit in silence.

In the middle of it all, I had a session with my therapist.

“I think I overreacted a little bit.”

She paused and gave me a gentle smile.

“Do you?” she asked.

I nodded.

“I freaked out on him.”

“Seems less like an overreaction to me and more like a reaction out of fear.”

My head tipped as I thought about it. She smiled softly at me.

“When you picked at that old wound during your fight, I think you thought it would stop you from asking the more vulnerable question of if he was going to make you feel invisible again. But the thing is y/n…you can’t predict behaviors if you want the chance to move on.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks, letting her words soak in.

“I just remember what loving him cost me before,” I whispered.

She gave me a soft smile and set her note pad to the side and leaned in.

“That’s a normal reaction to fear. You two went through a lot together.” She handed me a tissue. “But here’s the thing, if you want a chance to move forward together, you need to learn to communicate with not only him but yourself. You need to share the fear in your heart before it turns into anger and burns your life to the ground.”

That session stayed with me for days, keeping me up at all hours of the night as I let her words wash over me.

Which is why exactly one week after our fight, 6 days after silence from both ends, I found myself driving to Joe’s house at 6am.

I hadn’t meant to. But my thoughts the night before kept me up tossing and turning. When I picked up my phone and scrolled through the last of the messages, I finally broke, knowing I was the one who had to reach out first. And I knew myself well enough to know that if I waited, I would keep finding excuses.

Which is what had me showering, throwing on leggings and a hoodie and heading out the door before the sun was even up.

I tried to talk myself out of it the entire drive over and I circled the block twice before I pulled through the gates.

When I brought my car to a stop near the door, I paused before I took a deep breath and exited my car.

I stood on the porch, much like I had in the spring, but hesitated to ring the doorbell. Pushing my shoulders back, I reached out and pressed the bell once.

Standing there, I shifted on my feet and kept my eyes on the ground. I counted to sixty in my head four times. Realizing Joe must have already left for the facilities, my shoulders dropped in resignation and the determination I had to finally have this conversation was zapped out of me.

I turned to leave. When I was stepping off the last step, I heard the snick of a lock and paused, my shoulders meeting my ears as tension seeped through me.

“Y/n?” he asked sleepily.

I turned slowly.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, ruffling his hair. He had a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips and no shirt. I couldn’t help but admire him as my eyes swept his body.

“Can we…” I motioned at him, to ask without fully asking if we could step inside.

Joe moved to the side and let me slip past him.

I walked into the house and into the living room, carefully avoiding the stairs and the reminders they brought.

“It’s early,” he sighed out as he sat across me on the opposite couch.

I pulled my legs up and tucked them under my, trying to get comfortable. I shifted, my eyes darting past his.

“Y/n.” His voice were sharp but not cruel. “Why are you here?” I took a deep breath, unsure where to start. So I started simply.

“I’m sorry.” I breathed out and Joe’s head tilted in curiosity. “You deserved better than me taking my fears out on you.”

Recognition crossed his face and he furrowed his brows. I tried to keep eye contact with him, gauge where he was at, but his face was impassive.

Moments passed before either of us said or did anything.

Carefully, Joe stood and crossed the room to sit next to me on the couch. He took my hand in his and laced our fingers together before rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have just…assumed things were going to go back to the way they were before. That was part of the problem” His strokes on my hand paused and he met my eyes. “I’ve been trying so hard to show you how much I’ve changed, that I’m not as selfish as you accused me of when you left.” I winced at that, an apologetic smile gracing my face. “Then I went and bulldozed over your life again.”

“We’re terrible at this,” I said, shaking my head.

Joe smiled softly at me and shrugged.

“We’re terrible at this together, at least.” I laughed quietly, afraid to break the peace of the moment.

“So.” “So.”

“Where do we go from here?” I asked.

Joe leaned back on the couch and pulled me in. “We take it slow. We don’t need to rush into you moving back in. I know that isn’t fair to you. I shouldn’t have just assumed.” I nodded, tears brimming in my eyes as we sat there in silence. Joe’s hand stroked up and down my arm in soothing patters as we sat there.

Warring with myself, I blurted, “ButwhatifiwanttobutImjustscaredoflosingyouagain?”

Joe’s movements stopped and he looked at me confused.

“Huh?” I sat up and turned to face him.

“Joe…I’m scared,” I choked out. He sat up and tried to reach for me but I wouldn’t let him pull my hands into his. “Hold on. I just…I need to say this.” He nodded for me to continue. “When I think about meshing our lives together again…I want it. God, Joe, do I want it.” I shook my head like I couldn’t believe what I was saying and he leaned in. “But I panic. Every time I think about what that might look like, what it’ll mean, I freak out. Like…my chest gets heavy, like there’s an elephant there. And I can’t breathe.” Joe pulled his lip between his teeth as he listened, not interrupting.

I took a breath and moved closer, straddling his hips.

“But,” I continued. “I also felt like that when we were apart.”

Joe smiled softly at me.

“Me too,” he admitted.

“I’m scared though.” I laid my hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat below my palms. He brought his hands to cover mine and rested them there.

“Of what, baby?” “I don’t want to disappear into your life again.” He held my gaze, leaving space for me to continue when I was ready. “I don’t want to stop being me. I don’t… I don’t want to lose myself in you again, in your life, your schedules and routines. I need to still feel like me.”

“I get it,” he told me.

I paused and looked into eyes.

His eyes were focused, soft. Looking at him in that moment, I really did think he understood what I was saying.

I nodded.

“I hate that I feel like this. I love being with you. I love you. It’s just that last time I didn’t realize what was happening until I didn’t recognize my own life anymore.” “I don’t want you living in fear of losing yourself again, y/n.” He held my chin between his index finger and thumb. “I don’t want you to lose yourself in my life.” I slumped in his arms, having needed to hear him say that.

“I love you too much to let you do that again.” I nodded, my head against his chest and let the tears fall. He rested his chin on the top of my head.

“Promise me that if you feel yourself getting smaller, you won’t stay quiet. I need you to be honest with me if you feel like you’re slipping into the shadows, like my life is overruling yours.”

He rubbed his hand up and down my back. I pulled away and looked at him before leaning my forehead against his.

“I will,” I whispered.

He nodded with finality at that.

Joe wrapped his hand around the side of my neck, bringing my lips to his. As he explored my mouth, I adjusted my position on his lap, my hands playing at the back of his neck. His lips trailed from my mouth and down my neck before he licked a path along my throat.

I was on fire from the inside, melting under his hands as he held my hips. I started to rotate them in small circles and my pace increased as Joe continued to explore my body. Whimpers built in my throat before they escaped in little gasps of air.

“That’s it, baby. No one else can make you feel like this,” he whispered in my ear before he pulled it between his teeth and sucked gently before he released.

I gasped as he continued to guide my hips against his pelvis and I felt him harden through his shorts. I pressed my hips down slightly to give us both more.

Joe’s lips lifted from my skin and he leaned his head back, groaning in pleasure as my hips kept moving. My lips were all over his neck, kissing and nibbling at every inch of skin I could get to as I kissed down his bare chest.

“Not here,” he gasped out as my hand toyed with the drawstring of his shorts. I pulled away and pouted at him.

Joe shook his head at me with a smile and grasped my hips. He pulled my legs around his hips and stood, taking me with him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck to hold on and Joe smirked at me.

“Good girl.” I groaned and buried my face in his neck causing him to chuckle.

Carefully, Joe placed his hands under my rear and walked up the stairs. He set me in the middle of the bed on his disheveled sheets before he crawled on top of me.

Reverently, he brought his hand to my cheek and guided my eyes to him.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Choked up, I whispered back, “I love you too.”

He dipped his head to ghost his lips over mine. He sat me up slightly so he could pull my shirt over my head. When Joe removed my simple black bra, he sat back and stared at me in awe.

“You’re perfect,” he said.

I couldn’t help but blush and look away at his words, causing him to chuckle. His hands found the band of my leggings before he slowly slid them off my hips and he tossed them across the room.

Gently, Joe leaned me back against the pillows and I sighed in delight as he draped his body over me.

Joe traced my collarbone before dipping between my breasts, his fingers skimming down my stomach before making their way back, purposely avoiding moving his hands to my aching heat.

He held my breasts in both hands, squeezing and tugging at my nipples. He leaned his head down and brought my right breast to his mouth, licking across my hardened nipple as he continued to squeeze and pinch my lest breast.

I cried out on a particularly rough bite, causing Joe to pull away and loosen his grip on my breasts, soothingly rubbing his hands over them before he switched to pay attention to the other.

I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him to me so our hips were connecting, friction passing between us on every rotation of our hips. There was a push and pull between us, each of us chasing the touch of the other, not wanting to break our connection.

Joe’s hand slipped between us, his two middle fingers slipping inside to temporarily relieve the ache I felt. His palm rested against my bud, creating a delicious friction that had me gasping every time he pulled back and then again as he grazed it on the next stroke into me.

“You look so pretty with your eyes rolled back in pleasure,” he groaned as he stared into my eyes.

“Joe,” I cried out, my legs tightening around his hips, chasing the feeling of his fingers as he pulled all the way out of me.

He chuckled darkly and sat back, raking his eyes up and over my body. He darted his tongue out, wetting his lips in anticipation before he pulled his lip into his mouth and chewed on it in contemplation.

“I need you to touch me, Joe,” I cried out breathlessly, my body chilled in anticipation and want, missing the feel of him. Desperate for his touch.

Joe swiped his lip with his thumb.

He groaned into my ear as he leaned down, “You’re doing s’good for me.”

His hips pumped in rhythm with mine, every time he pulled away my aching core followed, chasing him, not wanting to part from the connection.

As his tip grazed the spot inside of me that made me delirious, I cried out his name as he continually brushed against it.

“That’s it baby,” he groaned. “Come all over my cock. Show me how much you missed my cock, how much you need it.”

I choked on a sob of half desperation, half unadulterated delight.

Joe’s pace increased, his hips losing their rhythm as he got caught up in the moment. My core ached and fluttered around him, my orgasm quickly approaching without me able to control it.

I screwed my eyes tightly shut, pulled Joe into me tighter. My nails raked down his back, fairly certain I was drawing blood as Joe gasped above me, his lips on mine as he drove his tongue into my mouth at the same relentless pattern as his hips.

Joe’s hand slid between us again and he brushed over my clit just once, barely a touch, before my orgasm tore threw me on a cry.

He threw his head back and groaned as he spilled inside of me.

We laid there, connected, for a few minutes before Joe rolled over and pulled me into his side as he slipped his dick from me. When he pulled out, a rush of our release followed, making a mess of my inner thighs and the sheets.

I sighed, loving the feeling.

Joe stared down at the creamy mixture between my thighs before he dragged his finger through our mess. With a swoop of his fingers, he collected some on the tip of his finger and brought it to my lips, probing my mouth with it.

I groaned around his finger and watched the heat in his eyes flare in desperation.

“There she is,” he groaned. “There’s my dirty girl.”

I smirked at him in delight as he laid his head on the pillow next to me, resting my head on his chest and letting the night take us under.

[akimagies]

Rivals Turned Friends… or Maybe More than Friends?

Cooper Dejean x Pediatric Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: n/a

Summary: After three-straight losses, Cooper decided something that can pick his spirits back up is visiting the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia. What he doesn’t expect to find is a sassy nurse that keeps him on his toes with every next comeback.

A/N: alright my first nfl!imagine… it may be a little rough but i’ve been toying at this idea for a while. kind of feel like i should make it a series lol! lemme know!!

           One of the top priorities that the Philadelphia Eagles had as an organization was giving back to their community. Whether it be through helping at nonprofit organizations that dealt with food insecure families and nonprofit children’s organization. All the way to the Eagles own ‘Eagles Autism Foundation’, the team cared about giving back. The thing that really hit home though for Cooper Dejean was visiting the Children Hospital of Philadelphia.

Walking into the children’s ward and visiting all the sick kids reminded him back of his Iowa days. The children’s hospital that looked right over his universities football field. The one he would visit with his teammates on a regular basis, just to brighten those kids’ days. Most importantly, of the tradition that the university did, the Hawkeye Wave. What is the Hawkeye wave? At the end of the first quarter, all the fans, coaches and players turn and wave to the patients and families that are in that very hospital that looks over their field.

When Cooper visits CHOP with his team, it helps to remind him of his roots. Of where he first started, up until now. It always gives him a little boost to his mood as well. Which was why he was walking in with some of the other Eagles defensive player right now. After a three-week losing streak, Cooper needed some positivity to help get his mind back into the game. Especially with a home game on the horizon.

“Dude, you need to wipe that pout off your face. We’re trying to make these sick kids happy, remember? Not even sadder than they are.” Reed said pushing Cooper’s shoulder a little bit.

“I know, I know. It’s exactly the reason why I’m here. To boost my mood by boosting these kids’ moods as well.” Cooper said, shrugging his shoulders as he put his hands into his sweatshirt’s pocket and started to walk around room to room.

Cooper and Reed had already been able to make a bunch of the patients’ days. Signing footballs for them to keep, sitting down, and talking to them. Not about how they were feeling or what they were experiencing, but by asking them silly little questions that brought smiles back onto these sick kids faces.

It wasn’t until the next room that Cooper’s spirit was really brought back to them. There was a little girl sitting on the bed. She couldn’t had been any older then 8, but you could watch what the girl was feeling based on the expressions on her face. First, you could tell that she was shocked to see them, and Cooper could tell she must be an Eagles fan. Based on the little trinkets in the room and the stuffed Swoop stuffed animal she had tucked under her arm. The next expression was almost a look of mischief, like she knew something that the two of them didn’t know.

“Oh! You two better get out of here before nurse y/n sees you! Or she’s gonna have some words to say!” the little girl said giggling.

“What? Are you not supposed to be having any visitors?” Cooper asked her as he quickly turned his head to the media team that was with them. Knowing that some rooms were listed as ones that they could not go in, due to children having immunocompromised immune systems. Yet, this one was one that they were allowed to go into.

“No! Not that silly! Miss y/n just isn’t an Eagles fan!” the little girl said laughing, and with the expression that now crossed her face. Cooper clearly knew that the nurse was walking in right behind them.

“What’s this about me not being an Eagles fan? Quinn! I thought we talked about not ratting me out with how diehard the fans are here!” y/n said as she quickly snuck into the room to check the little girl’s vitals. Cooper couldn’t help but stare at the nurse that was in front of him. How the light purple scrubs hugged her body just right, and how she looked so natural being in the sick child’s room, whose name he now knew was Quinn.

“You said not to! But I can’t lie to two Eagles players when they’re right in front of me! I need to protect them from all the bad juju you might try to cast on them!” Quinn exclaimed to her nurse, while y/n checked the little girl’s IV drip to make sure the measurements were appropriate for her.

“I’m not going to cast any bad juju on them like you think. Besides the team I like doesn’t even have another game against them this season.” y/n said to her patient as she sat down in the chair next to the girl’s bed. Allowing the girl to feel relaxed, as if this was just the two of them hanging out. Instead of standing over her to check her vitals and just looming over her.

“Oh yeah? And who might this team be that’s better than the Eagles for you to like them so much?” Cooper asked the nurse with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Did I say they were better than the Eagles? I don’t think those words came out of my mouth hotshot.” y/n said. Not even taking her eyes off Quinn, as she threw the little girl a smile.

“Nurse y/n is a New York Giants fan!” Quinn squealed with a laugh. Which caused the two defensive players to exaggerate their reactions.

“You can’t be!” Reed exclaimed, trying to hold back the laugh that wanted to come out of his body.

“That literally treason! You live in Philadelphia; it is your duty to root for the Eagles!” Cooper exclaimed. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard the laugh that rolled out of Quinn’s body. It made you forget that there was anything wrong with her. In this moment, she was just a normal girl laughing at two people bickering.

“It is not my duty to root for the Eagles at all!” y/n exclaimed.

“Yes, it is! If you live in Philly, you root for all of their teams… it’s in the rule book.” Cooper joked.

“Well, I grew up in New York into a Giants family.”

“The Giants are absolutely terrible this year! They literally are the first team in the NFL to be knocked out of playoff contention.”

“Hmm well the way I remember it, is that we were the first NFC East team to beat you guys… with our second-string quarterback in… rookie too I should add.” y/n said smirking over at Cooper while she took Quinn’s blood pressure.

“Yeah yeah yeah, well who won the Superbowl last year?” Cooper said to her smiling which just made y/n roll her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, the Eagles.”

“Okay big boy, talk to me again when you guys have as many Superbowl wins as the Giants. So go win two more and then you can talk to me again.” y/n said, smirking back at him before standing up from her seat. Cooper couldn’t help the flutters in his chest when he heard y/n call him big boy. “Alright Quinn, everything’s looking good. I’ll be back later to check in on you and give you your next round of medicine.” y/n told the little girl smiling before she walked out of the room.

Cooper and Reed stayed with Quinn for a little longer. Talking to the little girl for a few minutes before they went to visit some other kids. Yet, all while Cooper was visiting the other kids, Cooper could not stop thinking back to the snarky nurse that caught his attention. She seemed to keep him on his toes the whole conversation. He couldn’t help wanting to talk to her more, learn more about her.

While Cooper and Reed started to make their way to the elevator, Cooper say that y/n was standing by the desk filling out charts. He stopped walking and looked back over at Reed. “Hey, I’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

“Oooo, you’re gonna try to shoot your shot with that cute nurse, aren’t you?” Reed asked, smiling at his friend.

“Oh shut up, I’ll meet you downstairs.” Cooper said before turning back around and heading towards the desk. “So, I was wondering if I could possibly get your number. You know… so I can finally talk to you after we catch up to the Giants in Superbowl wins.” Cooper told her smiling. He knew if he didn’t try to get her number, he would be thinking about it for days, wondering what could have possibly happened.

Y/n rolled her eyes before closing her chart and looking up at the curly blonde guy that stood in front of her. “Alright, how about this proposition.” She started, crossing her arms, and leaning up against the desk. “You give me your number… and maybe if the Eagles win this Sunday against the Raiders, I’ll text you.”

“I’ll only agree if I can gift you and one of your friend’s tickets to the game. That way I can make sure you actually watched the game and know if you can text me or not.” Cooper said, following her stance and crossing his arms as well.

Y/n mulled over his proposition before letting out a huff. “Fine, and I’m only agreeing to this because I’m already off of work that day and I know my roommate will kill me if I pass on free tickets to the game.”

Cooper couldn’t help the smile that came over his face as he quickly found a spare piece of paper and quickly wrote down his number for her before passing it over. “Perfect! I’ll leave the tickets with will call at the stadium!” he said as he started to walk backwards towards the elevator. “Just give them my name! I’ll tell them the pretty pediatric nurse is picking them up!”

“You are absolutely crazy!” y/n exclaimed. Letting out a laugh when she watched Cooper bump into one of the Doctors who just came up onto the floor.

“I may be crazy, but I know what I want… and that’s to get to know the cute nurse that has awful taste in football team!” Cooper exclaimed before heading onto the elevator, giving y/n a slight wave as the doors closed.

When the elevator doors opened, Cooper saw Reed leaning against a pole. “So, did you get her number or what?” Reed asked.

“No-”

“No! Then what was the whole point of you going back to her.”

“Well, you didn’t let me finish! I didn’t get her number… but she got mine. Plus, I got her to agree to come to the game on Sunday.” Cooper said smiling.

“You sly dog! You better be able to get her to switch to being an Eagles fan if you even think about dating her. ‘Cause if you don’t… you are going to have some awkward games when we are playing against the Giants.” Reed said laughing as the two of them walked out of the hospital. Cooper feeling a bit lighter than when he walked in there.

[rosierecs13]

⭒ NFL Masterlist

⭒ Masterpost ⭒ 11/15/2025

⭒ Sports Directory

𐙚 Joe Burrow

Don’t talk to my wife like that | @lyrenminth

IT’S A BAD DAY | @platinumshawnn

Stubborn | @joeybsversion

You surprise Joe at a game 

show her off | @emmyblues

joe doesn’t mean to be jealous, and he certainly isn’t the biggest fan of pda, but given the right circumstances and a generous amount of alcohol, he’s giving the tabloids a new front page story

Inbetween | @/emmyblues

sometimes the one is right under your nose

you’re perfect | @classiccowboy

you try out a tik tok trend on your boyfriend joe.

Masterlist | @mamaestapa

Our Little Peanut | @/mamaestapa

Sweet moments with Joe during your pregnancy with Josie

Coach Burrow |@ bengals-barnesbabe

Joe gets offered his favorite job yet

Mic’d up Hearts | @bibliophiletales

You told yourself you hated him after he crushed your feelings with one careless line. Forced to work side by side, tension simmers beneath every exchange—until jealousy and truth unravel everything, revealing that hate might’ve always been love in disguise.

but daddy i love him* | @joeyb1989

joe burrow x kelce!sister reader

Surprise | @luvu2themoonand2saturn

she surprises him by showing up to a game

𐙚 Justin Herbert

HIGH MAINTENANCE | @v6quewrlds

the cliche, "opposites attract" seemed to have been made for your relationship with justin. the internet seems to have trouble keeping that in mind.

LOVE ME NOT | @/v6quewrlds

justin isn't a jealous guy. at least that's what he thinks until his girlfriend catches everyone's attention.

baby blues masterlist | @emmyblues

Sunlight | @/emmyblues

y/n is stuck in the eternal loop of being a bridesmaid, until she meets a certain groomsman

kiss me |  @/emmyblues

justin and y/n skip class to go on a hike and end up taking a small detour in the lake

𐙚 Colston Loveland

BOYFRIEND ! COLSTON LOVELAND HEADCANONS | @goldfades

BF!COLSTON LOVELAND HEADCANONS. | @/v6quewrlds

Pranking him | @/v6quewrlds

a warm welcome | @burrowswomen

Official | @mrs-delaney

what if you stayed? | @/mrs-delaney

perfect pairing | @angiiewritess

new rumors arise when international superstar y/n, is seen wearing chicago bears #84 jersey at a game. a social media preview into you and colston's posts and interactions!

𐙚 Arch Manning

melted kisses | @angiiewritess

after a week of not seeing your bf, you make it up with a movie night. and after seeing the latest couple trends on tiktok, you test it out with arch and give a proper show, hint hint, he also passes the test.

FAMILY LINES | @gisellaaa

your father never reached out after what happened at the UT Austin football game. You waited for a phone call that never came. It took Gisele a while to reach out, but it was only because your mom ripped tom a new one. You wanted to feel solace in a family life, so when you were invited to Arch’s thanksgiving, you were excited to be apart of a family

BUT DADDY, I LOVE HIM! | @/gisellaaa

a rivalry as old as time. tom Brady hates the manning name, ever since Eli took him down in the Super Bowl. Yet, you still end up finding trouble the newest generation of the Manning men.

Loud | @bitchinbarzal

Arch isn’t a loud person but when someone disrespects his girlfriend he is not staying quiet

Missin’ You | @/bitchinbarzal

Christmas break feels like eternity apart

Miss possessive | @anythingbutlovee

new social media girl gets too touchy and giggly for anyone's liking

half hearted hate | @xoxokiaraaxoxo

you hated arch manning until the day a lie shattered you more than you ever expected it could.

𐙚 Fernando Mendoza

Nomad | @what1ncewas

Y/N Hughes, the youngest of the Hughes family, is dating the quarterback for the Indiana Hoosiers and attempting to keep her relationship a secret from her overbearing older brothers.

A World Alone | @/what1ncewas

Fernando and his girlfriend share a quiet moment together following the Heisman Ceremony.

Second Nature | @/what1ncewas

The slip of their sister's sweater over Winter Break reveals the fact that she has a boyfriend, and sends the brothers into a tizzy trying to figure out who it is.

Gold Rush | @/what1ncewas

Fernando can't understand why his best friend is suddenly avoiding him after a night out celebrating a Hoosiers win, but he's determined to find out why.

Love On The Brain | @/what1ncewas

Fernando's GQ photoshoot send his girlfriend spiralling, and she tries not to let him see the effect he has on her.

seeing if he melts into a kiss | @prettyskjei

you saw a trend on TikTok and wanted to try it with your boyfriend

Full Contact | @itsbebeyyy

Fernando Mendoza, newly drafted to the Raiders, makes a full contact collision with a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, injuring her during the first game of the season.

boyfriend headcanons | @goldfades

teaching his daughter spanish | @bitchinbarzal

Natty | @/bitchinbarzal

the team want to party, it’s not his scene. until he meets you.

golden retriever vibes | @thestoryofagirlxxx

in a viral interview, fernando proudly embraces being known as your boyfriend while praising you as an athlete. as you watch, you realize just how deeply he supports and loves you.

Baby Fever | @vampslader

Only bought this dress so you could take it off | @anythingbutlovee

letting Fernando pick out your heisman dress, that way he can take it off after

Giant Teddy Bear | @linaaawrites

You're constantly appreciating how your boyfriend's massive size makes everyday life easier.

[emmyblues]

ego death of a quarterback

summary - y/n is getting married and despite joe’s hopes, he’s only there as a guest pairing - joe burrow x fem!reader  wordcount - 5.2 k  masterlist

Joe was dressed to the nines; hair done, leaving a single strand falling over his forehead in the most cinematic way imaginable, a dark blue suit on with a light tie that sat too tight around his neck, dress shoes that clicked with every step and a far too expensive watch on his tanned wrist and wristbands on the other. But he didn’t feel comfortable, not at ease the same way he usually did.

He wasn’t supposed to be there, not really, not in that way at least. Not as a guest. He was supposed to be standing up there beside her, waiting teary eyed as she walked toward him, dressed in white. Instead, he was on a wooden chair in the back row, next to his college buddies, the heels of his shoes digging into the grass as his muscles tensed, involuntarily preparing to stand, or maybe even run. 

He kept his eyes locked on the man standing in his place, just in front of the green, flowering arch, right next to the officiant with groomsmen by his side, anxiously waiting to see his soon to be wife. His name was Dean. Joe only knew that from the invite he’d received in the mail last year, the one that had left a pit so deep in his stomach he wasn’t sure he’d ever recovered, one that had made him so nauseous he hadn’t been able to move for the rest of the day. 

She’d told him his name multiple times before, but he had never bothered to learn it, always assuming there was no point. He didn’t think Dean would be there for any longer than a few months at most. Now, his presence seemed a little more… permanent.

Dean seemed like a nice enough guy. Not enough for her though, no one was enough for her. But he seemed decent. A normal guy with a stable job that let him come home to his girl every night, someone without a temper like him, who wouldn’t blow up at her over nothing in particular just because he was stressed. Joe was painfully aware that while Dean wasn’t good enough for her, he wasn’t either. He didn’t even come close. 

The first time his heart nearly stopped that night was when he heard the opening chorus of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls. His breath caught in throat and his chest clenched when he recognized the song. It felt oddly similar to being hit by a three-hundred pound defensive lineman, limbs twisted uncomfortably under him in ways that felt anything other than natural. But he always got back up, just like now. He shook the punishing feeling off as best he could and steeled his face to show no emotions, eyes slowly moving backward to where he knew she would be.

He remembered learning the song on piano for her. She wanted to hear how it would sound before her big day and with Joe’s newfound skill, he was the perfect person to ask. It was more cruel than she’d realized, but he had still gladly done it, happy to see her so overjoyed by something he’d done for her. 

He could practically hear the words to the song playing in his head, all sang in her quiet voice, from that time she sat on the couch and she thought he couldn’t hear her. Her voice wasn’t without flaws and maybe not as in tune as a professional singer’s voice would’ve been, but it was real and it was perfect. And it only served to make the moment that much more painful when the words truly sank in. Because it was true, he would’ve given up anything for her.

For just a second, when he saw her in her white dress – lace and satin covering her body, a veil cascading down her back – he almost found himself standing up, like she was walking toward him and not her fiancé, but he caught himself before he could, thankfully.

She looked beautiful, even more so than usual – which was really saying something. She looked just like he’d imagined she would so many times before, ever since they first met while attending Ohio State, where he first fell for her. She walked with purpose, head held high and shoulders back. She looked happy. It crushed him. 

Slowly, she walked closer and closer, all in step with the song. It was cinematic, the way the air around her shifted with every step, romantic in a way he couldn’t really place or explain. The raw emotion from the people around him, from the song, from her was enough to make his eyes gloss over. Soon enough, she was only a few yards away. And then their eyes met. 

He could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of something in her eyes, some longing or regret, anything that meant she wasn’t fully on board with the wedding. Her eyebrows twitched, surprise crossing over her features that disappeared the longer she kept his gaze. Her lips pursed, a slight frown on her face as she looked him up and down, so subtle he almost didn’t notice. And then… nothing.

It was so similar to a moment they had shared a little over a year ago, before she’d gotten engaged. She’d been in LA with him for a week, he’d been there for a while already for contract obligations, photoshoots and workouts, and they were flying back to Cincinnati together on a private jet that he insisted they take. 

In the near empty cabin, unusually quiet, save for the whirr and buzz of the propellers and engines and her soft breaths as she did her best to fall asleep, head leaning on his shoulder. He admired her; the shape of her nose, the marks and scars littering her face, the way her eyelashes kissed her cheeks with every slow blink. He knew he was in love.

“Do you ever think about us?” he asked out of the blue, voice so soft he wasn’t sure she’d even hear it. But she did. 

Instantly, she perked up and lifted her head to look at him. He was already looking over at her when she met his eyes. “Sometimes. But that was a long time ago,” she answered, careful with her wording. 

Before he ever got into the league, they’d been together, happy and in love. And for a couple of years, he was really happy. But they drifted apart, his free time quickly ran out and they eventually broke up, promising to stay friends. He’d spent more than five years as her friend, with nothing more than the occasional kiss on the cheek or hug. But he still had to ask, because he thought about it all the time.

He still wondered if he’d made a mistake, even if he knew logically he wouldn’t have had the time to sustain their relationship. Not in any way that she deserved, at least. But even then, he couldn’t stop himself from falling for her, over and over again, every time he heard her voice or saw her face, once every few weeks whenever they found the time or during their irregular phone calls that Joe so desperately tried to fit into his schedule.

He never said anything back to her, but feeling the discomfort grow between them, she continued. “We’re good friends, Joe. No point dwelling on the past. You’re happy. We both are,” she said, again cautious with her words. She didn’t see his question as any indication of leftover feelings, only as curiosity and nostalgia. Joe knew she didn’t understand, but he didn’t push her to, either.

She smiled at him then, that same longing, almost loving look that bore so deeply into his soul he didn’t know what to do with himself. All before looking away, face falling so neutral he almost wondered if it was only a figment of his imagination.

She looked away, that same rehearsed, picture-perfect smile finding its way back onto her face like nothing had happened. She looked ahead, eyes locking with Dean’s, and soon enough she was at the altar, handing her bouquet over to her maid of honor and Dean was taking hold of her hands.

The ceremony itself was a blur, but he was thankful the couple had decided not to say their personal vows in front of everyone – he knew he wouldn’t have been able to listen to them, he would’ve had to leave halfway through. He only tuned back in when he realized the officiant never asked if anyone wanted to object. They went right from the classic vows to exchanging rings, never even giving him a chance. He wasn’t sure he would’ve stood up, not with the way the happy couple looked at each other, not with all her friends and family present, but he never even got the chance and it stung.

And then before he could even process the previous near heart attack, they were kissing, right in front of him. Dean dipped her, her hands framing his face, and even from the back row he could see the way she smiled into it. At that moment, all fight left him. It was well and truly over, forever. No more hoping, no more stolen glances, no more celebratory kisses and nights spent under the covers at his place. 

Just an endless pit of gloom, and thankfully, an open bar. 

────────────

Joe was drunk. Drunker than he’d ever been during his partying days at Ohio State, drunker than he’d gotten after winning the Natty, drunker than the day he got her wedding invitation in the mail. But he was too in his head to ever really stop thinking, so he let the drinks keep flowing, hoping they would at some point shut his loud brain off, even if just for a while.

He was on his fourth– no fifth, or maybe even sixth drink. He’d already lost count, practically glued to the bar top the second dinner concluded, waving off questions about football in lieu of staring at the bottom of the empty glass in his hands, one that had previously held a far too strong amber colored liquid that he would under usual circumstances stay clear of. He hated the taste. But today warranted a change in behavior, he thought, and he wanted something that burned. 

The world spun around him, and with every breath he drew into his aching lungs, he grew closer to either crying or throwing up. He wasn’t sure which, and he didn’t exactly want to find out either – both were mortifying enough in their own ways. 

He hiccupped and his view blurred for a few seconds, long enough for him to grip the tabletop so tight his fingers ached. He looked behind him, at his college friends having the time of their lives on the dance floor, her parents and close relatives either out there with them or sitting and talking at the tables. He felt awful for the pit of jealousy in his stomach, but he couldn’t help it. Dean just got everything he’d dreamed of since he was twenty years old; the overbearing relatives, awkward and prodding questions about grandkids, teasing remarks about the wedding night, drunk siblings that had to be helped home. 

Then, his eyes caught a blur of blinding white, pulling him out of his self-deprecating stupor. He couldn’t help but follow along.

Stumbling off of the barstool he’d been slumped against, he shook his head as if he was shaking the alcohol off of him, but it was more permanent than he hoped it would be. When his sight cleared enough, and the world stopped tilting to the left so much, he followed after the blur. He caught onto her familiar flowery perfume as he followed, drunk on her more than the whiskey the longer he followed, pushing through crowds and rounding corners until he found her. 

Completely unaware of his surroundings, the cold hit him like a freight train. A gust of wind blew his already mussed hair – messy from hours of raking his hands through it – to the side and had his loosened tie swaying with it. He stopped in his tracks above the threshold, looking ahead of him to the terrace, where she was leaning against the painted banister with her head in her hands. 

He sobered some, the longer he watched her, eyes suddenly focusing and body stilling, no longer leaning to the side like the earth itself wanted him to tip over and fall flat on his face. And then, slowly, like she was some wild animal that he could scare off with a misstep, he walked closer to her. 

He leant against the railing next to her, leaving multiple feet in between them, and made sure she noticed his presence before he spoke. “Hey.”

Seconds passed and he almost felt the need to repeat himself, worried that she hadn’t heard him or that his voice had failed him so badly that he hadn’t actually said anything at all; that his alcohol fueled brain was playing tricks on him – which wasn’t exactly unlikely. But through a shaky breath and a quiet reply from her, he went quiet. 

“Hi,” she said, so quiet he nearly didn’t hear it over the howling wind. 

He looked over at her then and let his eyes linger. He watched the way her eyeshadow glimmered on her eyelids, the stray hairs by her hairline that had come loose during the night, the lipstick that had smudged and regrettably transferred to her husband much more than he would’ve liked. But despite all of it, and the reason they were where they were, she was still beautiful and he had to tell her.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, nodding to himself as if he was affirming his own words. 

“Thank you,” she replied, quiet, again. He hated it. He liked it best when she was comfortable and loud, when she said what she wanted when she wanted to without a filter. He loved hearing her stream of consciousness, it always made him feel so close to her. But this wasn’t it, her walls were up. It was more like him when he spoke to the media, than anything else; all placating smiles, rehearsed answers and everything so surface level it barely revealed anything that lay underneath. 

“You tired?” he asked then, desperate to keep the conversation going. “Or did you just want some fresh air?”

“Both,” she replied, shrugging one shoulder. “Just needed a break from everything.” She finally glanced his way and the look in her eyes was like nothing he’d ever seen before. She didn’t look sad, she looked… devastated.

“What’s wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask, always digging for blood and peeling scabs off of healing wounds, ignoring the pain in the moment but kicking himself later. 

She pursed her lips, contemplative for a few seconds before she fiddled with the ring on her hand, spinning it ‘round and ‘round on her ring finger but never making a move to slip it off, not even a little. 

“You… You’re drunk,” she accused, not like it was something she was only just noticing, but as proof instead. 

“I am.”

“Why?”

“You got married,” he shrugged, making a face she’d seen too many times before to count; lips pressed in a thin line, eyebrows raising and wrinkles forming on his forehead. “You got married so I got drunk.”

“That’s a childish excuse.”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed, mostly at himself, picking at the paint chipping off of the banister. “Let me be childish then.” He shuffled his feet, almost indignantly. 

She watched him for a minute, pursing her lips to keep the words from tumbling out. She couldn’t help the slight crease between her brows, nor the flare of her nostrils. She bit her tongue until the taste of metal filled her mouth before flexing her hands like it would expel all the tension from her body. 

“Can you just be honest with me? For once?”

He sighed, and against his better (sober) judgement, he groaned and replied, the words leaving him before he could fully think them through. “I waited for you, you know?”

“Waited for what?”

“For you, for us,” he raked a hand through his hair, quickly growing frustrated as the world spun around him once more. He gripped the banister tightly to regain his balance and held eye contact with her; blue eyes boring into hers. “For us to have whatever the hell it is you’re gonna do with Dean.”

He said her husband’s name with such venom, and through a hiccup at that, that she didn’t know how to react, or act at all, for that matter. His confession wasn’t any easier to process either, especially not on her wedding day. 

“Joe, we broke up years ago,” she told him firmly, though even he noticed the slight waver in her voice and noticed the slight sheen on her eyes, a telltale sign that tears were imminent. “And I don’t know if you’ve drunk so much you’ve forgotten, but you’re the one who broke up with me. We both moved on, we’re happy, so why the hell are you saying this now that I’m married?”

She was close to yelling, but kept her volume at a reasonable level to not attract any attention from the guests inside. But she was seething, it was obvious, from her tone, her eyes and her face. Hell, even her body language showed just how much she wanted to push him over the railing and down into the rose bushes below. 

“Maybe I didn’t want you to get married,” he shrugged, like the words he was saying weren’t tilting her entire world on its axis, like he wasn’t breaking her heart just as much as she was breaking his. It wasn’t something he would’ve admitted had he been sober, but it was too late to take back now.

“That’s… that’s so unfair of you,” she sniffled, looking up at the sky like she could will the tears away from her eyes and keep from ruining the makeup that had taken far too many expensive items and an insanely long time to apply. “You could’ve told me!”

“What difference would that have made?” he huffed, once again raking his hands through his hair, making it stick up in all sorts of odd places, but Joe didn’t seem to care much about his appearance in the moment. “You’d still have married stupid Dean.”

She was quiet again, staring into his eyes in a way he could only describe as desperate. It was like she was realizing that Joe and her hadn’t had the same worldview, the same understanding of their relationship. That what she’d seen as obvious, hadn’t been as clear as she’d assumed. 

“I would’ve run,” she choked out through a cut-off sob and a tear slipped down the apple of her cheek, almost cinematically. Joe froze, everything from his hands and roaming eyes to his vibrating body going completely still. Time stood completely still for a painfully long moment in their bubble on the deck, where the music from inside disappeared and the chill that had previously ran down their spines from the wind was replaced by an anxious heat. 

Joe had a million questions, all on the tip of his tongue, but none ever seemed to make it past choked gasps and breaths as he struggled to make sense of her words. 

“I would’ve. If you’d have asked me five hours ago not to marry him, I would’ve run without a second thought.”

The air around them went stale, dense with unsaid words and lingering confessions. Joe swallowed harshly, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat to no avail. And then the tears came. Joe wasn’t a big crier and he prided himself on having thick skin, despite his sensitive side, but he couldn’t help it this time. 

“Bullshit,” he shook his head, denial washing over him and fading away so quickly he didn’t know what to do with it. “It’s… it’s only been a few hours, h–how could things have changed already?” he wondered, tears staining his flushed cheeks as he stepped toward her, his proximity immediately warming her cool skin up. Hesitantly, he grabbed hold of her hands and held them tightly in his, still looking deep into her eyes like he could make the moment last forever if he never let go. “We can still run. We can go now and no one would even notice,” he begged, desperately, though even he knew his words weren’t as true as he wanted them to be. 

“You know we can’t,” she shook her head, slowly pulling her hands from his grasp, but he just wouldn’t let go and wound up holding onto her fingers instead. “Besides, you let me get married. You… you gave up.”

“I didn’t give up,” he denied, almost petulant, despite knowing the thought had crossed his mind mere hours before. When he decided it was over, when he’d given up. But Joe Burrow wasn’t a man who gave up and he wasn’t a man who would ever admit it either. He would double down on his lies and mistakes, just to keep the facade up. He blamed his drunkenness. 

“Yes, you did,” she insisted, teeth digging into her bottom lip. “You would’ve stopped me if you hadn’t given up.”

She was right. They both knew it. But that didn’t mean it hurt any less. In fact, hearing that he had missed out on the love of his life by such a small margin was gut wrenching in ways he couldn’t put into words. That one different decision made, that one earlier conversation could’ve led to the white picket dream he’d had for them for so long. 

“So, what, you’re just gonna go be happy with Dean now even though you would’ve happily run away earlier today? D’you really think that’s gonna last?”

“Is he ‘not gonna love me like you could’?” she asked, sarcasm dripping from her. “Do you think I’d actually marry him if I didn’t think I’d be happy with him? I sure as hell wouldn’t do it just to prove a point, you should know me better than that, Joe. I’m not that petty.”

“He won’t love you like I do,” he said anyway, jaw set but eyes filled with raw and pure emotion. 

“He doesn’t,” she agreed, far too easily and with too little pushback. “But I don’t want him to. He loves me like he does and that’s enough. That’s all I want. I don’t want him to be you.”

“Do you even love him?” he asked, slight disbelief in his voice. 

“I do,” she answered, far too calm for the situation, in his opinion. Tears were gathered in her waterline and she sniffled every now and then to make sure her nose wouldn’t start running, but she still spoke clearly, even through her wavering voice and shaky breaths. She was resolute, he was fighting a losing battle. Had he been sober, he would’ve cut his losses and walked away, but he just couldn’t. 

“Do you love me?” he asked, ever masochistic, itching to twist the knife just a little more. And maybe hoping for some closure alongside that horrible urge. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “I do love you. But we’re not meant to be, I know that now.”

That stung. But he’d seen it coming, he couldn’t deny that. So he smiled, painfully and more for her sake than his own, eyes not crinkling like they do when he actually smiles, when he’s truly happy. 

“I only ever saw the wife and kids thing with you, you know? I always kinda thought we’d end up there together, somehow.”

“I used to think that, too,” she bit her lip. “We almost had it,” she laughed wetly, a tear escaping, one that she quickly wiped away. Then she grimaced, as a thought crossed her mind. “But you have to admit, part of the allure is the unattainability.”

Now, Joe was a smart guy. He’d taken it upon himself to learn physics and chess and – as a hobby – learnt new ‘fun’ facts on a regular basis. But for the life of his inebriated brain, he couldn’t figure her sentence out. Instead, he – regrettably – stared at her dumbly and blinked. Once, twice. Before muttering a far too simple, “Huh?” with a tilt of his head, like a confused puppy.

She smiled, actually smiled at that, the tension of their conversation lifting for a moment as her eyes softened. She could almost see the twenty-year-old version of Joe – the day she’d met him at a crowded frat party – standing right in front of her with his big blue eyes. 

“I just meant, you only want me when you can’t have me, Joe. Whenever I’m available, single and by your side, I’m uninteresting. But when I’m engaged, married, then I’m interesting again,” she explained again with a pained smile, clearer this time. And just like that, all the softness that had just warmed up the air between them was gone.

It took a minute for the words to register, but when they did, Joe’s eyebrows rose so high up she almost thought they’d disappear into his hairline. His mouth fell open, first in shock, then confusion, then downright offense, like she’d just slapped him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Joe, we’ve had years to clear all this up. Literal years! And still, here we are, on my wedding day, after I’ve gotten married,” she stressed, finally ripping her hands free of him to flail them all around as she gestured, taking half a step back so she wouldn’t hit him. “If we were so important, why wait?” she rhetorically asked, answering herself only a few seconds later. “You like the chase, Joe. You do. I don’t doubt that you love me and that you really did want us to end up together, but you chose the one time I couldn’t do anything about it.”

It was an endless cycle of self-sabotage on his part, they both knew it. He could’ve stepped in at any point, before their engagement, before she ever met Dean. But instead he waited and waited and waited.

“Honestly, part of me thinks you wanna be turned down. That you’re not ready for any of this, but that you want to be, so you throw yourself into it even though you know it won’t work,” she sighed as her arms fell to her sides, fingers intertwining with the fabric of her dress to give her something to hold onto. “But I don’t want to think that.”

It was like being doused in ice cold water head to toe, worse than any reality check his therapist had ever given him during any of their sessions. She wasn’t wrong, maybe not right either, but just like her he didn’t want to think it, or even think about it. 

“Still a fucked up thing to say.”

“And, what, asking me to run away isn’t?” she countered, pressing her fingers to her temples to keep her cool. “We’re both pretty shit people, Joe, is that not obvious already?”

She sighed, heavily, obviously disappointed with both of them. Her hands ran down her face, chest rising and falling rapidly as she bit the inside of her cheek. 

“I’m not trying to be mean. I’m not. But we’re at different stages in our lives. I wish it could’ve been you, and maybe in some other universe it is, but Dean is it for me here. You’re too wrapped up in football to give me what I want and I want things you’re not prepared to give yet. We don’t fit,” she told him, head tilting to the side like it would help her gauge his emotions.

“I know you want me to believe that but I don’t,” he shook his head with a shrug. “We fit in every way that matters. Yeah, maybe I don’t wanna get married yet. But when I do, it’ll be you. And maybe kids aren’t in the plans yet either but it’s you or no one, even if it’s ten years from now.”

She pursed her lips, the wind blowing her hair across her face as she replied, “I’m not gonna wait for you to be ready.”

Joe swallowed the lump in his throat, just enough to choke the words out: “That’s so shitty. It’s shitty. I hate it.” He laughed, without any ounce of levity behind it. “I mean… Fuck.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Fuck. What the hell are we doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, eyes softening. He hated the finality he felt; the wind down. He’d gladly keep fighting and arguing with her, just to stay in the moment, but it was ending. He could feel it.

She took him by surprise then, and walked right into his chest, arms winding around his torso. She hugged him tightly, face pressed against his sternum, and he held onto her just as close, savoring the feel and warmth of her. The familiarity, the love, the tangible sadness was almost too much to bear, but she pulled away before either of them could succumb to it. She sniffled, hands on his biceps as she pushed further away from him. Wiping under her eyes, she smiled wetly, “You know, I would’ve done anything for you. I would’ve done anything.”

“Please stop saying that,” he begged, tears streaming down his face again, eyes red and hands trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head, looking down at the ground between them where she could see the invisible, imaginary rift between them grow deeper and deeper with each passing second. “I guess I just want you to know how real it was for me. It might not have lasted, but it meant a lot to me. So much.”

She took another step back, still keeping eye-contact.

Her chest heaved, shaky breaths in and out. There was too much left to say, too much to argue about and too much to apologize for. 

“Goodbye, Joe,” she said, smiled gently, and then walked back inside the venue, arms wrapped around herself to keep warm from the biting cold and the loss of Joe’s warmth.

“Bye,” he mumbled, but stayed put, arms at his sides, expression blank and shoulders slumped as he watched her leave; that same white blur that he so badly wanted to follow, but had to let go of. He kept watching, even as she made her way to the edge of the dancefloor where Dean stood and welcomed her with open arms.

Then they kissed, Dean’s hands on her cheeks and a warm, loving smile so real dimples formed on his face. It was nauseating, but maybe it was okay too.

Just then, Joe felt a part of him disappear. He was still Joe, still Nine, still Burrow. But it wasn’t the same as it was and it never would be.