#joeburrow

he pushes the cart, holds the list like it’s a playbook he's memorizing for a big divisional matchup next week, debates mashed potato texture like he’s scouting opponents, and slips your favorite chocolates into the cart when he thinks you’re not paying attention because he knows your period is coming up, and there’s nothing more you love than those fancy little lindor chocolates when you’re under the weather, bonus points if he feeds them to you. but beneath the teasing, the sneaky aisle kisses, and the soft touches on your lower back, there’s something heavier humming between you. something new. because halfway through the produce section, joe stops, leans his forearms on the cart, and looks around at the shelves like he’s absorbing it all—the grocery store, the ingredients, the future holidays he hopes you’ll spend together. when his eyes land back on you, they’re softer, warmer, almost boyish. “this is our first holiday together, isn't it? like actually ours,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper, and it hits you so hard your fingers literally fumble the cranberries, because suddenly it’s real; this life you’re building together, step by step, meal by meal, holiday by holiday.

the morning of, he moves through the house with this nervous energy he thinks he’s hiding. checking the oven temperature twice, flipping through recipe cards to try to plan out when each dish is made so that you can maximize your time, smoothing a hand down your back whenever he walks by, like touching you calms him. there’s something so endearing about this large, confident commands-the-entire-stadium-with-one-flick-of-his-wrist, joe burrow being anxious about hosting a family holiday dinner with you. he keeps stealing glances at you like he’s memorizing the moment, like seeing you in your shared kitchen, wearing his old hoodie, cooking your first holiday meal together is permanently altering his brain chemistry. halfway through basting the ham, he wraps his arms around your waist and murmurs, “this feels really serious, doesn’t it?” in that quiet, slightly shaky voice he only uses when he’s telling the most special truth he’s ever known. 

and when family finally arrives—robin with a pie and green bean casserole, jimmy carrying a bottle of chateau margaux and a bottle of cider, siblings and sister-in-laws piling in behind with nieces and nephews—you catch joe staring at you from across the living room with this full, warm, almost overwhelmed expression, the kind that says he knows exactly what you both just stepped into. a real life. shared traditions. a future. 

watching you move around the kitchen with his mom, laughing beside his sisters-in-law, trading stories with his cousins as you wipe your hands on a dish towel and reach for another bowl—it hits him in a place he didn’t know still hurt. it settles in his chest like something warm and cozy, something he’s been aching for longer than he ever admitted out loud. because seeing you there, so effortlessly woven into the fabric of his family, reminds him what all of this has always been for.

all the holidays he spent wondering if he’d ever have someone to bring home. all the years he sat at this same table, watching his brothers slip their arms around the women they loved, pretending he didn’t feel that sharp little pinch in his ribs. all the nights he lay awake thinking, when is it my turn? and now here you are. moving through this home like you were meant to be here all along, like the universe was just waiting for the timing to be right. and as he watches you laugh with robin over his poor, but adorable attempt at setting the table all by himself, or tease his cousin about burning the rolls, he realizes with absolute, bone-deep certainty that every lonely thanksgiving, every ache, every moment of wanting led him to this. 

to you.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...will only eat your pumpkin pie 

joe insists, no, actually demands, that he only eats the pumpkin dishes you make on thanksgiving, and he does it with the kind of stubborn loyalty that makes everyone laugh except him, because he’s deadly serious about it. he’ll take a polite slice of robin’s pie just to be respectful and to not earn any death-glares from her or have her threaten to not bring him a snicker's salad during every visit anymore, but he doesn’t even finish it, doesn’t even bother pretending, because the second no one’s looking he’s leaning into you, voice low and warm against the shell of your ear, whispering, “it’s good, but yours is better,”. the way he says it—slow, honest, almost sinful—makes heat crawl up your neck. and the moment you bring out your pumpkin pie or spiced pumpkin loaf with a cinnamon crumb top, he’s there, sliding behind you with those big warm hands, finding your waist like he’s magnetized, chin dropping to your shoulder as he hums at the smell. he always reaches out to smear whipped cream on his fingertip, licking it off with a hum deep in his chest before he tastes your skin right after, lips brushing your jaw as he murmurs, “yours is also sweeter,”. 

he tries every year to sneak an early bite, and every time you try to scold him, he cages you against the counter, grin smug and boyish, bending to whisper, “c’mon…just one taste. for quality control,” and the way his hands slide over your hips makes it impossible to say no.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...“helps” in the kitchen (he doesn’t help.)

joe wanders into the kitchen constantly under the guise of helping, but he doesn’t help at all. he just gravitates to you like he’s incapable of staying more than ten minutes without touching you. if you’re stirring the gravy on the stove, he’ll rest his chin on your shoulder, arms winding around your waist as he sways you gently, murmuring into your neck, “smells good…so good,” and you can’t tell if he’s talking about the food or about you. if you’re chopping potatoes, he stands behind you with his hands on your hips, rocking you just enough to make you threaten him with the knife, which only earns you one of those cocky half-smiles he doesn’t show anyone else.

every time you try to step away, he tugs you right back against him, whispering soft things he knows will make your knees wobble—“you look so pretty like this,” “you’re working so hard, baby,” “wanna kiss you all over,” sometimes you catch him giving you that look—the heavy-lidded, hungry one that says he’s been imagining bending you over the counter all afternoon. something about you being so domestic in his world turns him on, and he’s so shameless about it. he’ll never say anything out loud with family nearby, but you feel it in the way his fingers slip beneath the hem of your sweater, warm and claiming, or the way he kisses the back of your neck before pulling away like nothing happened.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...carves the ham like it’s a high-stakes operation

he stands over the ham like a surgeon, tongue peeking out slightly in concentration, brow furrowed, mumbling to himself about “optimal slice width,”. he absolutely will flex his knife skills even though you’ve never once seen him cut anything more complicated than strawberries on a weekday. he pauses halfway through to look up at you and announce, very seriously, “this is why quarterbacks have good hand control. all about precision,”.  then he hands you a piece like he’s offering a sacrament: “taste test. it’s science. and don't worry, it's not too thin, babe, i know you like a thick slice,” he says with a wink that has your face turning the color of a tomato. 

if you smile too big, he gets smug. if you tease him, he squints at you and mutters, “you’re lucky i love you,”. 

⋆˙⟡ joe who...eats off your plate 

it always starts the same, too. your fork halfway to your mouth, your focus somewhere else for a split second, and suddenly his much bigger fork slides right in front of yours, scooping the exact bite you were about to take. he doesn’t even look guilty. he barely even looks at you. he just steals it, lifts it to his mouth, and eats it with this obnoxiously satisfied little hum, shoulders relaxing like he just had the best bite of his life. you glare at him every single time and he meets it with that tiny, infuriating smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “what?” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your plate, “you weren’t eating it fast enough,”. 

sometimes he’ll lean in, kiss the corner of your mouth, then steal another bite like the kiss was meant to distract you. sometimes he’ll hook his chin over your shoulder and eat directly from your plate with your fork, pretending he’s helping you. and when you protest? when you push him away and tell him to get his own food? joe just grins, nudging at your thigh with his knee under the table. “baby…everything i have is yours and everything you have is mine. that includes your cranberry sauce,” and you pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes, but you’re already sliding the plate closer to him—because he’s joe, and he looks so cute and happy stealing your food that you can’t help but let him.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...pulls you into the pantry like he can’t go another second without you

the pantry becomes joe’s personal hideaway during the entire evening. every time you walk in for spices or extra ingredients, he follows a few seconds later, closing the door behind him with a soft click. doesn't matter where he is or what he's doing, he spots you heading to the pantry? he follows. before you can even ask what he’s doing, his hands are already sliding up your sides, pushing you gently against the shelves, the motion causing the spices to rattle as you land with a dull thud. 

he dips his head to kiss down your neck, soft, a little sloppy, just the way he knows you love. and the way he breathes, a little shakily, like he’s trying to hold himself back from doing something shameless that would earn him a stern talking to by his mother, makes your knees turn to liquid. “i needed a minute,” he murmurs, teeth brushing your skin. “just with you,” he cages you in against the shelves with his arms, big body crowding yours, his forehead pressed to yours while his thumb strokes your waist in slow, deliberate circles. 

sometimes he kisses you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs, and when he pulls back, his lips are so red and swollen, your lip combo all over him, and he looks so stupidly in love you swear you might melt. he always tries to sneak one more kiss, one more touch, one more breath against your mouth before you whisper that someone might come looking. god forbid one of his little nephews accidentally opens the door on you two, because you do not have an answer for why this adorably oblivious child is running around the house saying "uncle joe had his under in auntie y/n's shirt!". 

and joe always grins at your valid concerns, that stupid, cocky little grin, whispering, “that’s why it’s fun. make's me feel like a teenager again,” before reluctantly letting you go…only to follow you out a minute later, still looking at your lips like he’s starving.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...keeps checking on you like it’s instinct

even in a house full of his people, full of relatives who haven't seen him in forever, joe’s attention is always on you. his eyes are drawn to you like you were the shiniest object in the room. you’ll be talking to his brothers or helping his grandma to the living room or laughing with the cousins in the backyard, and when you glance over, he’s already watching you with that soft, protective gaze that makes your whole chest glow. he’ll cross the room under the excuse of getting another drink, brushing his hand over your lower back as he passes—just a quick reassurance that you’re okay, that he’s here. sometimes he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear before walking away, sometimes he presses a tiny kiss to your shoulder when no one’s looking, and sometimes he doesn’t leave at all—just stands behind you with his hand on your hip like he belongs there. he checks if you’ve eaten anything since this morning. he brings you water if he notices your lips look a little dry. he steals quiet moments to whisper, “you good?” against your cheek, even when you clearly are, because he just needs to hear you say it.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...is beyond thankful for you

joe laces his fingers through yours with a quiet urgency, the kind that’s been simmering beneath his skin all evening. he’d spent half the night subtly trying to steal you away—brushing past you in the kitchen, touching the small of your back as he helped his mom with the dishes, giving you those long, loaded looks across the living room whenever his aunt pulled you into another story about his childhood. and when he finally manages to slip his hand into yours without anyone noticing, he doesn’t let go. instead, he tugs you gently but deliberately toward the back door, his eyes flicking to yours with that soft, determined look, like he’s decided that if he doesn’t get a moment alone with you right now, he might spontaneously combust.

the door clicks shut behind you, muting the warm hum of his family. cold air skims over your skin, crisp and clean, and joe exhales like he’s been holding his breath for hours. the porch is dim, washed in pale gold from the light above, and he turns you fully toward him, as if he’s finally carved out this quiet corner of the world just to say everything he hasn’t been able to say inside.

his hands settle on your waist, drawing you in with a reverence so bare it steals the breath from your lungs—his eyes soft and sleepy-warm, lashes brushing downward like he’s trying to memorize you one blink at a time. there’s something almost boyish in the way his expression opens for you, unguarded and achingly sincere. “c’mere,” he murmurs, tugging you closer like the words he’s carrying can only survive in the inch of air between your mouths. his forehead rests against yours, breath warm and uneven, like he finally stopped running the second he got you alone.

“needed you alone for this,” he says, the confession rasping out of him. “just you. no noise. no eyes on us. nothing tugging at you but me,” his hand glides up your side, slow and sure, cradling your jaw. 

“is everything alright, baby?” you question gently, your fingers finding home in his hair, twisting the soft strands as you listen to his breathing—the most soothing sound you’ve ever heard in your entire existence on this planet. 

he inhales, the sound a little shaky. “yeah, yeah. everything’s good, fantastic actually. it’s just, you’re…” he tries again, swallowing hard, “you’re everything to me, sweetheart,” his voice cracks, just enough to make your heart throb. “i know i fuck around and act like i’m annoyed at the world half the time, but the truth is? i wouldn’t get through any of it without you. i wouldn’t be who i am right now if it wasn’t for you, for what you did to me when we first met, for what you continue to do to me,” his thumb brushes your cheekbone again, lingering this time. “you make every part of my life softer. easier. better. you walk into a room and it’s like everything i was worried about just—,” he exhales shakily, nose brushing yours, “evaporates. you have this kind of effect on me that i don't think i've ever seen or experienced before. it’s intense, so fuckin’ intense, but that’s just what love feels like. you taught me that,”.

your eyes soften, tears pooling in the corners, “joey,” you whisper. 

he leans in closer, lips barely grazing yours as he whispers, “i’m thankful for you every damn day, you know that? for the way you look at me like i’m someone worth loving. for how patient you are with me. for how you navigate through this crazy life that we live. for how you hold me without even touching me. for how you always show up for me even when shit gets tough. for how you make my life brighter and worth enjoying,” his voice softens, and his eyes, god, his eyes, gleam with a kind of wonder that feels otherworldly, like he’s carrying whole constellations behind his lashes, stardust pooling in the corners as he looks at you as if you hung the sky just for him. “for how you let me love you the way i’ve never loved anyone. for how you allow me to be soft around you. i love you so much for letting me be this version of myself. i thank the universe every fuckin’ day that you walked into that dingy diner that day in colombus. that you didn’t get scared when i made a move on you,” he grins, “even though it could’ve been better planned,” a chuckle leaves his lips. 

you nod slowly, recalling that moment you walked into the old diner with your friends, and the very first thing you saw was joe sitting in the corner booth with his old college friends. all of them whispering to each other like teenage girls and egging him on as if there was some elephant in the room you weren’t aware of, “yeah,” you giggled. “could’ve given me a heads up that you were paying our bill. gianna thought we were being mass cat-called or something,”.

“had to make a good impression. had to show you i can support my woman if needed,” he murmurs, that smirk playing at the edges of his lips, but the fire in his eyes betrays him—wild, hungry, impossible to ignore. before you can respond, he’s on you, closing the space with a precision that makes your pulse stutter. the kiss he presses to your lips is everything, the kind that numbs your senses, bends time, and leaves the world falling away. it’s not gentle; it’s not soft. it’s intense, deliberate, the kind of kiss that carries the weight of every unspoken word he’s ever held for you, every longing he’s barely contained, every heartbeat that thunders for you alone.

his mouth molds to yours with unyielding certainty, tilting your head just so, pressing lips to lips with a rhythm that’s both demanding and soft. when his tongue finds yours, it’s a slow, deliberate sweep, a teasing pull that makes your knees tremble and your hands claw instinctively into his shoulders. the heat of him presses into you, chest to chest, breath mingling with yours, every exhale shared and shivering, every heartbeat synchronized in the tension between you. he holds your jaw in one firm hand, fingers warm and grounding, anchoring you in the moment, and you feel the subtle tremor of want that runs through him—the quiet, feral need to claim, to keep, to consume only you.

the world shrinks until there’s nothing left but him, the taste of him, the weight of his body, and the desperate pull of this slow, impossible kiss. your heart races against his chest, your breath hitching as he tilts you closer, tongue and teeth teasing, lips dragging in long strokes, and for a moment, neither of you exists outside of this suspended second. every brush, every press, every groan swallowed into the space between you is a promise, a confession, a collision of desire and devotion that leaves you dizzy, trembling, and entirely undone in the gravity of him. he pulls away for a second, and you find your lips chasing his before a soft, “i love you,” leaves his mouth, but it doesn’t sound small; it sounds like the center of his entire universe. “i love you in ways i didn’t even know were possible. in ways that scare the hell out of me because it’s so big, so real, so much more than anything i ever thought i’d get to feel,”. 

“you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he smiles against your chilled lips, pressing another kiss to them before saying,  “and i don’t ever want a life that doesn’t end with you in it,”.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...steps into your childhood home for the first time and instantly softens

it hits him the second he steps over the threshold. this soft, nostalgic warmth that seems to breathe out of the walls and wrap around him. the smell of cinnamon and butter, the kind that settles into a home after years of holiday mornings and late-night baking; the old family photos lining the staircase, each one a tiny universe of memories he wasn’t there for but wishes he could’ve been; the worn-in couch where you once napped after school, blankets still folded the exact way your mom likes them; even that faint creak in the floorboard by the hallway, the one you warned him about, the one that used to betray every teenage attempt at sneaking out. every detail feels intimate, untouched by the world, like he’s stepping into a place that shaped the girl he loves long before he ever knew her. he takes it all in with this quiet awe, like he’s afraid to blink and miss something important.

and then there’s that look in his eyes as he turns to you and murmurs, “so this is where you grew up…” it comes out gentle, like a confession, like an exhale he’s been holding. you can feel something inside him shift, like he’s finally holding a piece of the puzzle he didn’t know he’d been missing. and the moment your family gathers around him, any lingering tension melts away. they don’t treat him like “joe burrow, the star quarterback”; they treat him like your person. your dad gives him a handshake that’s half test, half welcome; your mom pulls him into a hug so sincere he just freezes for a beat, startled by the softness; your siblings eye him up until he fumbles out a nervous little joke that immediately breaks the ice and makes everyone laugh. and he blushes, actually blushes, because it’s the first time he’s been the outsider stepping into your world. but he handles it the way only joe does: with that shy smile, those polite manners, and that quiet charm that makes everyone fall a little bit in love with him without even trying.

but the sweetest part is how effortlessly he fits into your family’s traditions. he helps your mom set the table with the same cutlery and dishes you’ve used since your first thanksgiving, listens intently to your little brother explain the rules of a card game he’s never played, and sneaks quiet glances at you from across the kitchen like he’s falling in love all over again, seeing you in your element as you pester your dad about what he wants for christmas. he teases you for the way you still know where everything is—even the charlie brown themed mixing bowls stacked on the very top shelf of the cabinet with the missing screw—and kisses your temple when he passes behind you, as if he can’t help himself. and because he doesn’t like turkey, your mom surprises him with a small glazed ham “just for joe,” and the way he lights up at that, a soft smile on his face, hand squeezing your waist, makes you warm all over. he whispers, “i like her. she gets me,” and you roll your eyes, but he can see the glow in your cheeks.

outside, he lets you pull him into your childhood backyard, the place where you used to build snowmen and climb trees for hours and hours. he listens to your stories about your neighbor’s scrappy dog whose bark sounds more like a bronchitis patient’s cough, about the time you scraped your knee trying to prove you had superpowers, about your first kiss behind the tool shed (which he grumbles about playfully)—as if every detail is sacred, like he can't miss it because it won't be the same. and he kisses you there, under the same branches you once hung fairy lights on when you were twelve, murmuring, low and rough around the edges, “i wish i’d known you back then…how soft you probably were, how damn…perfect. but now, jesus, now i do. and i’m so damn glad i get to. you’re everything i’ve wanted, everything i didn’t even know i needed, and i can’t believe you’re mine,”.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...can’t wait until everyone leaves to have you all to himself

once the last dish hits the sink and the soft hum of family chatter finally dissolves, joe’s patience snaps like a frayed, over‑pulled thread. he’s been restless for hours, tension coiled tight beneath the table, eyes dark every time you so much as shifted in your chair. his hand kept finding your upper thigh, fingers squeezing once, twice, like little warnings. the back of his knuckles skimmed dangerously high under the napkin, brushing your inner thigh with slow passes that made your breath hitch. and every time you looked at him, he whispered “later” in that quiet murmur that always ruins you, the sound rumbling low in his chest like a promise he’s seconds from cashing in. 

the moment the final goodbye leaves someone’s lips, he’s done pretending. he grabs your hand, hooks his fingers through yours and yanks, pulling you down the hallway with a pace so clipped and urgent you have jog a little to keep up. that hungry, crooked grin cuts across his face, the one that screams he’s hanging on by a thread. he’s practically vibrating with excitement, shoulders tight, jaw flexing, every stride carrying this sharp, impatient energy—like he’s two breaths away from throwing you over his shoulder and sprinting.

“you’re not letting me sleep without you…right?” he mutters, voice already rough, already dragging over your skin like heat. “i promised my mom i wouldn’t do anything…indecent under your family’s roof but i just…” he’s flushed and wired as he says it, pupils blown, radiating a wild, relentless need that’s been simmering beneath the surface all night. he doesn’t wait for your answer, he can’t. all you can do is watch him with your mouth slightly open in disbelief, and as the tension crawling under his skin finally breaks loose, and he’s dragging you into your childhood bedroom like he might fall apart if he has to wait another second. the door clicks shut. too loud, too sharp. and before the sound even settles, he’s on you. he pins you against the wood with his whole body, crowding you, caging you in that way that always steals your breath. his mouth crashes into yours, desperate and hungry, his kiss all heat and teeth and reckless need. he kisses you like he’s been starving, like every minute at dinner was torture, like he’s trying to make up for all the touches he couldn’t take in front of your family.

his palms frame your jaw, big hands warm and possessive, thumbs stroking your cheeks with a heartbreaking contrast of gentleness—like he can’t decide whether he wants to worship you or devour you whole. his breath shakes against your lips, his body trembling with everything he’s kept tucked behind polite smiles for hours. and when his forehead presses to yours for half a heartbeat, his voice breaks out in a shaky whisper, “i needed you all night,”.

the room feels impossibly small now. your old posters taped crookedly on the walls, your twin mattress buried under the floral comforter your mom insisted “was good enough until you left for college.” joe’s eyes flick to the bed for a fraction of a second, then back at you, teeth clenched, chest heaving, every inch of him shaking with the need to sink into you. you can see it—the raw, feral edge of him, famished and unhinged, and it drives a shiver through your core. “this is gonna be fuckin’ stupid,” he growls, voice deep, sinful, “but i do not care,”.

his hands rip under your shirt, fingers grazing your ribs, leaving flutters throughout your body in their wake, teasing higher and higher until his thumbs roll over your perky nipples, tugging just enough to make your chest arch, your gasp muffled into his mouth. your back presses against the door, every nerve alive, and he groans, a sound like gasoline on fire, hot and rough and filthy. “jesus, you’re perfect,” he rasps, lips dragging across your neck, teeth grazing your pulse, sucking and licking, claiming. he shoves you toward the bed, and the second your back hits the mattress, it screams, a loud, undeniable creak, and you both freeze, grinning like lunatics. “quiet, baby,” he hisses, breath hot against your ear, “or they’re gonna hear exactly how much you missed this cock,”.

one hand slams over your mouth, while the other slides down your stomach, palms cupping, gripping, teasing anything he can, before yanking your thigh open for him. the instant he pushes in, achingly slow, yet so so so perfectly, you arch, a broken, muffled moan pressing into his hand. every inch of him consumes you, stretching you, filling you to the brim with that perfect, sinful precision you’ve come to worship. joe’s pace is relentless, controlled but merciless, a rhythm built on pure, brutal want. the bed squeaks each time your pelvis meets his, every creak a sharp, wicked punctuation to the moans spilling out of you. the risk of being caught, of someone hearing, fuels him, makes him grip your thigh tighter, drives him over the edge faster. curls damp at the temples, jaw clenched, eyes pinned to where your bodies collide like he’s watching live art. “shh…fuck, shh, i know, i know,” he murmurs, forehead pressing to yours, voice thick with lust. “i’ve got you. take it. take all of me,”.

you can barely breathe as he fucks you with that perfect, relentless rhythm he’s perfected with you—deep, exact, hitting every sweet spot over and over until your thighs shake, every nerve raw with sensation. your breath comes in ragged gasps, your nails claw into his shoulders, hips grinding involuntarily as he slams in, hard, merciless. he groans into your neck, low, filthy, “god…you’re so tight for me…i swear, baby, you get even tighter when you try to be quiet, fuck,”.

your whimpers burn hot against his palm, each thrust making the bed frame squeal, every creak a delicious promise. “yeah? that feel good?” he pants, voice fraying. “that good you can’t think about anything but this cock?”. you nod into his hand, another broken whine escaping, “oh, joey please,” and he bites your shoulder to swallow his own moan, hips snapping harder, pulling deeper, faster, harder. fingers digging into your hips like he can’t let go, can’t get enough, can’t stop claiming you.

“you’re mine,” he growls, deep, guttural, words vibrating over your skin. “all mine…in your squeaky fuckin’ bed…jesus christ, i can’t get enough,”. he drives into you deeper, so deep it feels like you see stars, your body trembling, quivering, locking around him, each muscle taut, toes curling, breath shattering in your chest. his pace turns ruthless, hips slamming into you with a rhythm that leaves no air in your lungs, no room for anything but him. and fuck—he loves it. loves how ruined you are beneath him, how you give and take and tighten with every stroke.

“look at this,” he pants, one hand sliding to your stomach, pressing there just enough to feel the outline of him inside you. his eyes darken, pupils blown wide as he watches the way your body swallows him. “you’re taking me so deep, baby. so fuckin’ deep,”.

your tits bounce with every thrust, full, perfect, irresistible, and he can’t stop staring, can’t stop the desperate sounds ripping out of him every time they move for him.

and the room? god, the room is obscene.

wet, slick sounds fill the space, each thrust a loud, messy clap of skin against skin. your bedframe hits the wall with every movement, loud enough that the two of you should care—should remember that anyone walking up the stairs right now would hear every filthy second. but neither of you even think about stopping. you’re both too far gone, too lost in the heat, in the rhythm, in the way his body claims yours and yours claims him right back. loud, messy, unapologetic, and utterly, beautifully unrestrained.

your orgasm tears through you in a way that feels almost merciless. a slow burn that turns your body to mush all at once, tightening around him so sharply he swears under his breath. it’s not the kind of climax that hits and fades; it blooms, unfurling in waves that keep cresting no matter how hard you gasp for air. your nails drag down his back, your thighs trembling around his hips as your whole body arches into him like you’re trying to pull him even deeper, hold him there, keep him there. joe feels every ounce of it, the way your walls flutter and clamp around his cock, the way your breath stutters into his mouth, the way your voice breaks when you try to say his name but can’t get past the sound of yourself falling apart. his rhythm falters because he’s obsessed with the way you come for him, how greedy your body gets, how wet you get, how you tighten like you’re made to finish on him.

and he loses it. his hips stutter. his breath turns into pants. he grips your waist like he’s trying to anchor himself to something real, something soft, something you. a low, guttural curse grinds out of him just before he presses in all the way. a deep, helpless thrust that forces a shocked moan from both of you. he comes hard, the kind of helpless, bone-deep release that rips a groan straight from his chest. it hits him in a full-body shudder he can’t even pretend to control, his forehead pressed to yours, breath stuttering against your lips like he’s trying to inhale you just to stay on this earth.

the heat of him floods you in thick, heavy spurts, each pulse sinking deeper than the last, and he doesn’t stop—he can’t. he keeps rolling his hips through every trembling wave, slow and desperate, chasing the feel of your body clenching around him. like he needs to feel every last contraction, every flutter of your pussy milking him through the end of his orgasm. like stopping would actually break him.

“fuck…baby…,” his voice is wrecked, raw with pleasure, the words barely forming as his lips drag over your cheek, your jaw, wherever he can reach. he can’t stay still. he can’t stop kissing you, touching you, losing himself in the warmth of your skin while his body keeps spilling the last of his release into you. “you’re…god, you’re unreal,”.

even when the high finally fades, when his breath slowly starts to find a rhythm again, he doesn’t pull away. he stays buried inside you like there’s nowhere else he could possibly exist. his hand slides down to your hip, thumb tracing lazy, loving circles against your skin. gentle now. almost tender. he’s still dizzy, still floating, trying to wrap his head around how completely you undo him every single time. how you make him fall apart, how you put him back together, how he never wants to stop feeling like this.

and the way he softens inside you, still warm, still deep, still holding on…it tells you everything his ruined breath can’t.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...gives spontaneous, ESPN-level commentary to your entire family while watching the game

your grandma asks an innocent, perfectly harmless question—“why did that man run backward?”—and joe’s world flips into full broadcast mode. he snaps upright from the couch like a quarterback calling an audible, grabs the remote as though it’s a telestrator pen, and rewinds the play with the kind of intensity that makes your aunt jump. suddenly, he’s talking with the cadence of a seasoned analyst, breaking down cover‑2 vs. cover‑3 like he’s giving a ted talk in a packed lecture hall. every hand gesture is precise, punctuated with little emphases: a finger pointing, a palm slicing through the air, even picking up a charcuterie knife to illustrate leverage like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

he paces a little, leaning into the screen, voice rising and falling with dramatic pauses that make your family nod along politely, trying to appear engaged while you’re internally dying of laughter. he points out angles, gaps, and player tendencies, sketching imaginary lines between defenders with absolute authority, and occasionally mutters things like, “see, that’s basic spacing, any rookie could understand this,” before flicking his gaze to your stunned relatives. your uncle chuckles nervously, clearly impressed but mostly terrified at joe's quarterback brain, while you can’t stop grinning at the utter, unfiltered joy he radiates.

finally, after eight straight minutes of running commentary, theatrical gestures, and unsolicited analysis, he leans back, grabs his cider, and takes a casual sip like he didn’t just hijack the entire dining room into a miniature studio broadcast. “so yeah,” he concludes, voice calm, almost smug, “that’s why the run game’s dead,” and the room collectively exhales, equally entertained and exhausted. you glance at him, shaking your head, because of course he’d turn your family dinner into prime‑time football, and of course it’s the most him thing ever.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...gets pissy when the quarterback throws an interception

he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but the second the other QB tosses a pick, joe’s instantly crashing out, evaluating every movement like a coach grading a practice tape. shoulders tense, jaw tight, fingers tapping against his drink like he’s drawing up coverages in the air, muttering under his breath, “can’t throw late over the middle…what are we even doing?” his eyes narrow, flicking to the screen, scanning footwork, timing, every single subtle detail like he’s already seeing the replay in slow motion. you lean over, smirking, and tease, “you wanna go teach him?” and joe freezes just long enough to give you that dangerous, low-key smirk—one brow raised, lips curling, eyes dark and amused, that quiet, don’t-test-me energy that says he could, and he might, if you pushed him. “i could,” he mutters finally, voice low and steady, “that’s the problem,”. and the way he leans back in his chair, shoulders stiff but proud, like he’s daring anyone to challenge him, makes you laugh and shake your head—because of course he’s exactly this type of insane about football, even on a holiday, and somehow, somehow, it’s one of the things you love most about him.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...wants nothing more than a lazy day on the couch with you the day after thanksgiving

he pulls you onto his lap the instant you sit down—no hesitation, no adjustment period, just a quiet, instinctive need to have you close. his hands settle on your hips first, guiding you into place, then slide down to drape over your thighs, palms wide and warm, thumbs tracing lazy, absent-minded circles that make your whole body soften against him. he tucks his chin into the curve where your shoulder meets your neck, breathing you in like he’s been missing you all day even though you’ve been in the same house. his arms settle around your waist, loose but protective, the kind of hold that tells you he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon.

the tv hums in the background, black friday football, the usual chaotic noise, but it barely registers to him. he isn’t leaning forward after big plays, isn’t muttering stats, isn’t yelling at referees. his eyes flick to the screen only out of habit, but every time he does he ends up drifting back to you, lips brushing your jaw or your cheek like he’s hypnotized by your beauty and your presence.

he’s warm against you, so warm it feels like he’s sinking into you, melting into this little cocoon you’ve accidentally built together on the couch. he murmurs quiet jokes into your shoulder, dry little observations about commercials or commentators that make you smile without even meaning to. and every few minutes, in the breaks between plays he’s not really watching, he tilts his head just enough to kiss your temple, your jawline, that soft spot beneath your ear. those kisses get slower as the game goes on, lingering, sweet, full of a kind of affection that makes your chest ache. one of them lands on your neck—soft, deliberate—and he stays there, lips resting against your skin like he’s gathering courage for the words that follow.

“i love thanksgiving now,” he whispers, voice low, almost shy in its sincerity. his breath warms your skin. “you know that, right?”.

you feel something ease in him as he says it, like he’s finally letting the truth out. “you just…you make it special,” he continues, another kiss pressed to the curve of your shoulder. “you make it something i actually care about,”,

his arms tighten around you, not possessive—just certain. content. full. and you can feel it all: the weight of his gratitude; the quiet, unshakable comfort he finds in you; the warmth of his body pressed against yours like he’s anchoring himself there; the way he breathes a little easier when you lean your head back onto his shoulder.

it’s soft. it’s intimate. it’s domestic in a way that feels sacred. he holds you like this is his favorite place in the world. and like thanksgiving finally means something because it’s a day he gets to spend wrapped around you and spend every single second being grateful to the universe that you came into his orbit. 

⋆˙⟡ joe who...gets horny the second the world slows down

the shift always begins in the quiet. the moment the house exhales—leftovers tucked away, the echo of family chatter fading into memory—something in joe unwinds just enough for another instinct to take its place. he watches you move through the soft, dim glow of the living room, the tv humming low, shadows slipping over your skin, and his restraint simply…dissolves. he comes up behind you with that slow, certain step he gets when he’s already made up his mind, sliding an arm around your waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. his chest presses to your back, his breath a lazy brush against your neck before his lips find that place just beneath your ear. he kisses you there first, knowing how it always sends butterflies through your stomach, and when you soften against him, he releases a quiet, shaky sound he’d never admit to. his hands slip beneath your shirt with a hunger he’s been holding back since noon, fingers splaying wide over your stomach, your ribs, your hips, mapping you like he’s relearning you.

“we’ve got the whole night,” he murmurs against your skin, voice already deep, already ruined, already gone for you. and when you whisper his name, barely a breath, he shudders, tightening his hold like that single sound snapped the last thread of his control.

you don’t stay on the couch. you don’t stay pressed against the patio door. you don’t stay anywhere for long. he kisses you through the hallway like a man dragged under, pinning you to the wall with a groan when you tug at his hair, the kind of sound that vibrates through you and leaves your knees unsteady. he walks you backward toward the bedroom with the singular focus of someone starved, hands gripping, sliding, claiming every inch they touch.

by the time you reach the doorway, you’re already gasping, his mouth hot against your throat, his hands pushing beneath your clothes like he needs skin, needs heat, needs you. and when he finally gets you onto the bed, when he crawls over you with that slow, predatory confidence, it’s like the air thickens. the world narrowing to the drag of his lips down your chest, the way his fingers trace the waistband of your underwear like a promise he intends to ruin. his voice drops to something gravelly, sinful, as he whispers, “been thinking about this all day…about you all day,” before kissing down your stomach, your hips lifting helplessly into the warmth of his mouth, his teeth grazing just enough to pull a sound from you that makes him curse under his breath.

and later—maybe minutes, maybe hours, maybe lifetimes have passed—he’s above you again, chest pressed to yours, body fully, desperately aligned with yours as he pushes into you with slow, devastating purpose. his hands cradle your jaw as if he’s trying to watch every single reaction he pulls from you, pupils blown wide, hair falling in his face, breath shaking each time you clench around him. every thrust drags a new sound from your throat, and joe drinks them in like they’re oxygen, murmuring your name in a tone that borders on worship. he moves like a man who’s been deprived of touch for days, deep, deliberate, a little rough, a little sweet, utterly obsessed, his mouth finding your shoulder, your lips, your chest, leaving lazy, possessive marks he’ll admire in the morning. the quiet of the night only amplifies everything: the slap of skin, the low growls slipping from his throat, the gasps he pulls from yours. and when he leans down, forehead pressed to yours, voice trembling as he mutters, “so fuckin' good for me, so thankful for this pussy, fuck,” you realize he isn’t teasing. he’s unraveling, falling apart, breaking open entirely for you.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...absolutely refuses to set foot in a store on black friday

the moment you mention black friday, his whole body goes rigid. like every muscle locks at once. eyes going comically wide, pupils blown in sheer, primal alarm. it’s the same look he gives when a blitzing linebacker comes out of nowhere, except this time it’s the thought of fluorescent lighting, screaming toddlers, and half-off appliances that has him silently begging the universe for mercy. “are you insane?” he mutters, taking a full step back as if you’ve just threatened him with bodily harm. his hands come up in self-defense, palms out, head shaking slowly like he’s processing a traumatic memory. “no. absolutely not. i’m not fighting an elderly woman in skechers for a half-priced toaster oven,”. his voice is a wild mix of disbelief and genuine fear, the kind that says he has seen things…horrors…unhinged bargain hunters…and he will not go back.

but then you pout. soft, subtle, the slightest tilt of your lips, the almost imperceptible lift of your gaze, and it’s the look he has never once been able to resist—those eyes, wide and innocent, that somehow hold both mischief and pleading all at once. joe’s whole face fractures in that instant; the dread he’d been carrying melts, edges softening like ice pressed under a heat lamp, the tension sliding out of his shoulders in a slow, audible surrender. he exhales, long and labored, a sound thick with preemptive defeat, like he already knows he’s lost before the words have even formed in his mouth.

without a word, he closes the distance, letting instinct guide him. his hands land on your waist, strong but careful, drawing you effortlessly into his chest. the familiar pull, the magnetic weight of him, wraps around you, and you feel it—the quiet inevitability of him, the way he claims the space around you without ever needing to announce it. he bows his head, forehead brushing yours for a heartbeat, and presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your forehead—the kind that steadies him more than it steadies you, calming him before the storm of his surrender. “fine,” he murmurs finally, the word heavy, drenched in melodrama, a small groan of protest hidden in the cadence. “we can go.” his voice cracks just slightly at the edges, like it’s painful to admit defeat, and yet there’s something tender in the way he says it, as though every ounce of his theatrical agony is only for you to witness. 

then he straightens, meets your gaze with the seriousness of a man about to enter the hunger games. “but i am not running. not touching anyone. not making eye contact. i am a spectator only…you’re responsible for all human interaction,”. each word is spoken like a legally binding contract he’s unwilling to renegotiate. and yet,  beneath all that theatrical reluctance,  a glimmer sparks in his eyes, a tiny wicked shine he can’t hide. the faintest twitch of a smirk. because he loves this. loves hovering behind you with a hand on your hip, loves grumbling under his breath at the chaos, loves pretending he’s miserable just so you’ll laugh and tug him closer. he’ll complain the entire time, sure, but he’ll be glued to your side, muttering snarky commentary, acting like your grumpy, overprotective shadow…secretly having the time of his life just being there with you.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...looks intimidating enough that no one bumps into you

he trails behind you through the chaos of the mall, hood pulled up over his beanie, glasses on, shoulders broad and stiff like he’s on his way to a game instead of shopping for discounted candles. his hands stay buried deep in his pockets, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in that naturally terrifying don’t even think about it way he gets when he’s in public and hyper-focused on you. people take one look at him—six‑foot‑four, built like a greek tragedy, radiating silent menace—and immediately part like the sea. you’re weaving through crowds like you’ve got a vip escort, not because you asked for one, but because your boyfriend looks like he could bench-press emotional damage and fight for sole custody of the mall. he leans down just enough for you to hear him over the noise, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “see that?” he murmurs, “i’m useful,”.

and the worst part is? he’s kind of proud of it.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...gives brutally honest, judgmental commentary on every black friday shopper

he’s quiet at first, just observing. then the sighs start. loud, drawn out, dripping with disgust. “oh, great, she’s elbowing children for a vacuum she can get off amazon on sale on any other random weekday,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head like the entire mall is personally offending him by their lack of intelligence.

he doesn’t hold back. every cart that crashes into another? commentary. every slow walker in the aisle? critique. the guy hoarding the electronics? “wow. selfish and bald. perfect combo,” he smirks at you, eyebrows raised, like he’s daring you to challenge him. “i mean, really. what’s his strategy here? just crush everyone in his path?”.

and the shoppers don’t even know it, but he’s scowling, muttering, judging like he has nothing better to do. he whispers running narrations to you, low and mischievous: “that one’s gonna regret that cart collision. watch…karma,” and then you see a fight break out in front of you.

every so often, he leans down, lips brushing your ear with that grin that’s half mischief, half deadly seriousness. “i could survive the end of the world,” he murmurs, “as long as i don’t have to deal with these people,” and you laugh, because yeah, he’s ridiculous, but somehow, watching joe watch the chaos is way more entertaining than the chaos itself. he’s judgemental, sarcastic, and just a little bit terrifying—but you secretly love it. black friday wouldn’t be the same without him narrating the apocalypse in real time.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...hates every second and is so dramatic about it

he is unbearable in the funniest, most joe way possible. like a man personally wronged by the concept of consumerism. he sighs with the full weight of every burden he has ever carried, loud and theatrical, the kind of exhausted exhale a dying victorian widow would give after discovering her husband perished at sea. every time you pause to look at throw pillows? another sigh. every time you compare prices? a groan that echoes down the aisle. he mutters to himself constantly, too “unbelievable…we’re really doing this…i thought we were above this,”.

“this” as in rummaging through the sale rack at the ugg store.

he gives lethal, passive-aggressive looks to anyone who even brushes the corner of his jacket, clutching the single shopping bag he’s agreed to hold like it’s gus boundary. “i’m not carrying more than three bags, babe,” he says in that rigid, no-nonsense tone, as if he’s laying down federal law. but you know him. you know the second you look the slightest bit uncomfortable, he’ll be shoving every bag up his arms like decorative bangles. hell, if your back twinged even once, he’d drop everything just to scoop you up bridal-style and march you through the mall like a knight protecting his queen.

and then halfway through the makeup aisle, surrounded by glittery palettes and overpriced skincare, he leans down with a grim, war-hardened seriousness. “if someone recognizes me and i end up on twitter again, i’m leaving you here,” the delivery is deadpan. cold. chilling. the threat of a man who has been photographed in a mall one too many times (the photo of him with the bath & body works bag gives him nightmares to this day). 

he’s joking…mostly.

because even as he grumbles, even as he pretends this is the worst day of his life, his arm stays wrapped firmly, possessively around your waist; tugging you into him every time someone walks too close, keeping you sheltered, tucked against his side like you’re the only thing in the entire store keeping him sane.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...softens instantly when he sees you excited

the second your eyes light up, over a sale sign, a cute display, or even just a pair of fuzzy socks, he melts like someone hit pause on reality. the scowl, the sighs, the grumbling about crowds and chaos? evaporated. his jaw unclenches, shoulders drop, and those sharp, teasing eyes soften into something warm and full, like he’s seeing you in a spotlight made just for you. he steps closer without thinking, hands brushing lightly against your waist, and presses a sweet, tender kiss to the top of your head right there in the middle of the aisle, ignoring the curious glances around him. “you’re cute when you’re in bargain mode,” he laughs, his lips grazing your hair as his thumb drifts absent‑mindedly over your hip. when you squeal softly at a matching set of pajamas, holding them up with that little spark in your eyes, he doesn’t even hesitate. he slides the pajamas into the cart, grinning down at you with that messy, boyish pride only you get to see, and leans in to press another quick kiss to your temple, murmuring, “i’d do anything to see you like this. all smiley and loopy,”. even amidst the chaos of the store, he’s fully present, fully yours, completely smitten

⋆˙⟡ joe who...loses it the second you walk into the lingerie store

the second you step inside, a quiet, almost feral grin spreads across his face, eyes darkening with a heat that makes your stomach twist. he’s supposed to be “helping,” or at least waiting outside casually, but the second he sees you browsing, all pretense falls away. his jaw tightens, hands balling into fists at his sides like he’s restraining the kind of hunger that could burn the whole mall down. every shift of his hips, every tightening of his shoulders is loaded with raw, needful energy.

he watches you reach for a delicate maroon lace set, swallowing hard, and his mind floods with you—naked in that fabric, soft and slick against him, hips arching into his hands, breasts pressed to him, toes curling. “holy fuck,” he mutters under his breath, voice low, rough, dripping with want, half for himself and half as a warning he can’t resist. his hips twitch subtly, throat dry, pulse quickening as he imagines the way your body will move for him, the moans he’ll hear, the way he’ll taste every inch. every bra, every silk set, every little lace thong—it’s all for him, all for this private, heated fantasy that he can’t wait to make real. his gaze lingers on you, unbroken, almost predatory, and you notice the sharp inhale, the way his chest rises and falls, the way his jaw flexes like he wants to sink his teeth into you. he swallows again, hips shifting, the need in his eyes unmistakable. you feel it, searing and undeniable—the way his desire practically radiates off him—and it hits you: he’s completely, utterly, unashamedly turned on in the middle of this mall, and it’s all because of you.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...can’t resist dragging you into a dressing room 

the second you step toward a fitting room, he’s on you—fingers wrapping around your wrist with that familiar, impatient, i’m‑done‑waiting smirk tugging at his lips. he doesn’t say a word, just guides you backward, steps long and purposeful, until the door shuts behind you with a sharp click that feels louder than it should. before you can even breathe, he’s crowding you back against the mirror, his body flushing against yours like he’s been starving for hours. his lips crash into yours, hot and insistent, kissing you like he’s claiming territory he already owns. his tongue slides against yours with hungry precision, tasting, teasing, coaxing an involuntary sound from your throat—just a faint, needy little moan that has his breath catching and his grip tightening. he bites your lower lip with perfect pressure, enough to make your knees tremble, and then he swallows your gasp like he’s craving it.

his hands don’t linger politely; they roam with intent. he drags them under your sweater, palms warm against your stomach before sliding higher, thumbs brushing the curve of your breast through your bra, tracing every shape he’s memorized a thousand times. his fingers trail down your waist and lock onto your hips, pulling you harder against him like he needs your body to keep him anchored. his mouth leaves yours only long enough to kiss along your jaw, slow and molten, before finding your throat. every kiss there is filthier, open‑mouthed, messy, hungry, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers threats and promises in a voice frayed with desire. “quiet,” he murmurs, words brushing your pulse, “don’t want anyone hearing how good you feel for me,”.

his body presses into yours fully now, chest to your back as he shifts to kiss the curve of your neck from behind. he nips and sucks deliberately, not enough to leave a mark but enough to make you shiver and grab for him, your fingers curling into his shirt at his shoulders. he slips one hand under your bra, just enough to cup and tease your tit, the slow graze of his thumb sending heat spiraling low through your body. your legs wobble, breath catching, and he just smirks against your skin because he feels it—feels how easily you melt for him, how fast he can undo you. “my gorgeous girl,” he groans into your ear, “every inch of you…just for me,”. his hands slide down again, gripping your hips, pulling you back into him, making you feel the effect you’re having on him, the tension in his muscles, the restraint barely holding.

and the lingerie you came in to try? completely forgotten. the only thing you can think about is him—his mouth, his hands, the heat rolling off him in waves. every touch leaves you dazed, every kiss steals your balance, every low growl from him shoots straight through you. by the time he finally pulls back, just enough to look at you, your lips are swollen, your breathing unsteady, and he’s wearing the slowest, filthiest smirk you’ve ever seen on him. “now,” he whispers, fingertips dragging down the inside of your thigh with sinful softness, “go try something…if you can even think about shopping after that,”.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...spoils you rotten 

he acts like he hates this, but the second you so much as pause in front of something? he’s already reaching for his wallet.

you say you don’t need anything? he buys it anyway, barely glancing at the price tag. “christmas is coming,” he shrugs, like that explains the way he’s filling the cart with everything you even breathe near.

you say something is cute? he doesn’t even let you put it back. “put it in the cart,” he insists, nudging you with his shoulder, that soft little half-smile he gets only with you tugging at his mouth.

you look at something twice? he’s already scanning your expression. the slight tilt of your head, the way your fingers brush the fabric, and he’s stepping closer, voice dropping so only you can hear, “babe. seriously. get it,” and he means it. because he loves giving you things. loves seeing your eyes light up. loves knowing he can make your life easier, softer, sweeter.

he pretends he hates shopping, but he loves treating you. loves it in a way he’d never admit out loud. to him, spoiling you isn’t spending money; it’s showing you in every way he can that you’re his girl, and taking care of you is his favorite thing in the world.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...geeks out over a deal on a lego set he's wanted for months 

the moment he spots it on the shelf, he freezes, eyes widening like he’s just discovered a hidden treasure. it’s the lego set he’s been hunting for months, the one he swore he’d never find at a good price. his jaw tightens, a low, excited hum vibrating in his chest, and he crouches slightly to inspect the box like it’s a rare artifact. “no way…is this—,” he mutters, voice barely containing the thrill, “is this the edition with the moving gears?” his fingers hover over the package, trembling slightly as he turns it in his hands, checking every angle, reading the description like he’s deciphering ancient runes.

you watch, half-amused, half-melting, as his usual calm, cool demeanor evaporates. he starts pacing a small circle around the aisle, murmuring calculations to himself about budget, space on the shelf at home, where he’ll display it, how he’ll tackle it in stages. every now and then he glances at you, grin splitting his face like he’s sharing a private victory, eyes sparkling with the kind of joy that only comes from finding something you’ve been obsessing over. “babe…this is insane. they’re not supposed to have it,” he whispers, sounding like a younger version of himself with the way excitement is practically seeping out of him, “and it’s…on sale,”.

you can’t resist teasing him, voice playful and sharp. “so…mr. anti-black friday is suddenly all in for a lego set?” you draw out, arching a brow. joe freezes mid-step, box clutched to his chest, and then laughs, a little breathless and sheepish, cheeks warming. “hey…this...this is different,” he stammers, but the sparkle in his eyes betrays him, betrays the thrill, the glee he can’t hide.

he catches your eye, his smile wide and uncontainable, and in that moment, you see him completely, unguarded, joy radiating from every gesture. “i mean…look at this,” he says, voice full of wonder and disbelief, shaking his head with laughter. “i can’t even…i have to build it now. i just…i can’t wait,” and as he carefully places it in the cart beside you, it’s impossible not to grin too, because watching him geek out over something he loves this much is like seeing a piece of his soul sparkle.

⋆˙⟡ joe who...collapses dramatically the second you get home 

he collapses onto the bed the second you step inside, flopping with the exaggerated theatrics of a soldier finally returning from battle, limbs splayed haphazardly, hoodie half-bunched around his shoulders, hair tousled, chest heaving in dramatic, uneven gasps. the intensity is ridiculous, almost cartoonish, and you can’t help but laugh, the sound mingling with the faint creak of the floorboards as he shifts. before you can even react, his hand snakes across the bed with that familiar, fumbling determination, finding your wrist and tugging you down beside him, so you fall into a warm, tangled heap—your shoulder pressed into his chest, his arm draped lazily but possessively over you. his nose nudges yours, brushing against your cheek with an intimate gentleness, lips grazing the curve of your temple, and his voice drifts low, rough, and utterly breathless, “worth it…but never again,”.

your fingers thread through the messy strands of his hair, and you tease, “until next year?” the words barely leave your lips before he groans, muffled against your collarbone, the weight of the day melting from him like ice in sunlight. he burrows closer, pressing his body fully into yours, soft now beneath the dramatics, warm and grounding, the contrast between his chaos and tenderness almost too much to bear. “…fine,” he sighs, voice thick with reluctant surrender, the exaggerated theatrics finally giving way to the quiet, steady rhythm of relief.

and in that moment, as his limbs settle and his breathing evens, you feel it. the absolute trust, the raw intimacy of being the one he comes home to, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, and the undeniable, unspoken truth that in the messiness of his theatrics and the ridiculous collapse of the day, he is completely, irrevocably yours.

You watch his hands move, slow and practiced, and smirk. “You always take this long, or is it just for show?”

Joe doesn’t look up. “You talk too much.”

“You roll too slow.”

His jaw twitches. “That’s ‘cause I actually know what I’m doing. This ain’t no freshman party blunt. You’ll thank me when you’re not coughing your lungs out.”

You roll to your side, grinning. “I won’t cough, silly.”

That makes him glance up, eyes narrowed. “You will, you don’t have the tricks.”

“I’ve done it before.”

That freezes him.

Fingers pause mid-roll. The paper’s still between his thumbs. He lifts his head and looks at you, slow and sharp. “…What?”

“I said I’ve done it before.”

Beat. Tension. Silence.

“You told me you hadn’t.”

You shrug, eyes on his hands.“ I told you anything, you just assumed.”

He sits back slightly, jaw clenching. “With who?”

You laugh. It’s forced. “Does it matter?” His gaze doesn’t budge. That arrogance? It’s pouring off him now like smoke. Cold, pissed, burning.

He licks the edge of the blunt, seals it clean, and flicks his lighter once. Flame. Silence. “Yeah,” he says low. “It matters.”

“You jealous?”

“No,” he snaps. Too fast. “Just wondering which dumbass I need to thank for teaching you how to lie.”

You groan, tossing your head back. “Jesus, it wasn’t that deep. It was one time, Joseph. With a guy at a party. A year ago. I didn’t even like it.”

Joe lights the blunt and leans back on one arm, eyes never leaving yours.”So why lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie.”

He takes a drag. Exhales slowly. “You kept it to yourself. Same shit.”

You open your mouth. Close it again. You’re not sure what to say, and he clocks it.

His eyes narrow. “Let me guess. You were wearing some other guy’s hoodie, too, huh? Sitting in his lap, laughing all cute while he passed you the blunt like he owned your night?”

Your stomach twists. “What the fuck is your problem?”

His answer is immediate. “You. You’re my fucking problem.”

Your breath stutters.

He leans in closer, blunt still burning in his fingers.

“You come over here,” he says, “wearing my shirt, climbing in my bed like you belong to me — but apparently someone else already got the version of you I should’ve had first.”

“Joe, that’s bullshit.”

“No. Don’t ‘Joe’ me,” he snaps. “You think I like the idea of you high with some random asshole who probably couldn’t even roll right?”

You whisper, “I doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” His voice is rough, possessive. “You’re not my girl, but when you’re here? You’re mine. You fucking know that.”

Your pulse races. He can see it. You know he can.

He stubs the blunt out in the ashtray, climbs back onto the bed, and drags his eyes down your body like you’re something he’s deciding whether or not to ruin.

His hand hooks around your ankle, pulling you closer. You gasp. “You like playing that game with me? Pissing me off? Making me jealous?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper.

He smirks.“Bullshit.”

Joe leans in, lips brushing your jaw, hot and heavy. “You think he got you high like I do?” he breathes. “Think he got you this soft? This fucked out? This needy?”

“Joe—”

“Nah. He didn’t. I can promise you that.”

You stare at him, blinking hard, heartbeat too loud.

He kisses your neck, slow and deliberate. A threat. A promise.“I don’t like it when you do shit like that with other guys, Y/N,” he says again. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

Because you already know you like it.

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

Joe moves like the question was rhetorical — like your body already gave him the answer with the way you're breathing, legs parted under his shirt, thighs warm and tight like they’re hiding something he already owns.

He slides his hand up, rough palm dragging over your skin like a threat.

“Joe—”

“Nah,” he cuts you off, voice low and cold. “You don’t get to talk right now.”

He presses your thighs apart and kneels between them, his fingers wrapping around the inside of your leg — that same hand he throws touchdowns with, big and warm and confident.

You gasp as he drags your shirt up and sees that you’re not wearing anything underneath.

He freezes for half a second, jaw twitching. Then: “Of course you didn’t,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “You came here ready to be fucked.”

You burn under his stare. But it’s not shame,it’s need. Bad, messy, greedy need.

His mouth drops to the inside of your thigh, and he kisses you there like it’s punishment. You twitch, breath catching as his teeth graze your skin.

He laughs under his breath, low and smug.

“You see what you’re doing?” he mutters, licking a stripe higher. “Making me jealous, Y/N. I don’t do Jealous.”

You try to speak, but your voice cracks. “I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t care.” He drags his lips higher, toward the ache between your thighs, and you gasp harder. “You’re gonna learn tonight that none of that shit matters anymore.”

Then he presses his tongue flat against you, slow, firm, devastating.

Your whole body arches.

Joe moans when you gasp. Like he needs to hear it. Like he’s been starved for it.

“That’s right,” he murmurs against your skin. “Be loud. I want you to feel this.”

His hands pin your hips down, fingers digging in as his mouth works you open. He’s messy with it — confident, cocky — like he knows no one else has ever made you fall apart this fast. He takes his time, licking you slow, then fast, then slow again, until you’re writhing under him and your fingers are locked in his hair.

You moan his name. Loud. Needy.

“Yeah,” he groans. “Say it again.”

You do.

Again and again, until your thighs shake and you can barely breathe.

“You gonna come already?” he asks, voice rough, eyes dark and wet and locked on yours. “So desperate for me you can’t hold back?”

You nod, whimpering. “Please—”

“Then give it to me.”

And you do.

You come hard, body clenching around nothing, your back arching off the bed as you cry out. You were trying to hold for when Joe fucked you, but keeping things for Joe Burrow; the narcissistic, toxic and cockiest person that you know for too long was almost impossible.

Joe stays there the whole time — tongue still working, hands still holding you down, dragging every ounce of pleasure from you until you’re trembling.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are wet, his jaw tight, and his smirk is unbearable.

“Fucking knew it,” he says. “Knew you couldn’t take it without falling apart.”

You try to catch your breath, but you don’t get long.

Joe climbs over you again, pressing his weight between your thighs. You feel how hard he is through his sweats, and your stomach tightens.

He pulls them down just enough to free himself — thick, hard, dripping at the tip.

“You want this?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock along your slit. You go crazy.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Tell me.”

“I want you, Joe.”

“That’s right.”

And then he pushes in.

You gasp. He’s big, and you’re still sensitive, and your nails dig into his shoulders as he fills you to the hilt.

“Jesus,” he groans, pausing once he’s fully inside. “You feel that? This is what happens when you lie to me. When you make me jealous. You get fucked like this.”

He starts to move. Hard. Deep. Every thrust timed to the pulse in your core. He grabs your jaw in one hand, the other braced beside your head.

“You gonna let anyone else touch you like this again?”

You shake your head.

“Say it.”

“No. Just you.”

“Good fucking girl.”

He fucks you harder — not for sweetness, not for love — but to prove a point. To own you. To erase any memory of any guy before him. He doesn’t need much. For years, the only guy in your mind was Joe. Your best friend, fuckbudy, the guy that pisses you of all the times. That’s Joe for you.

His hand wraps lightly around your throat. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to hold you still.

“You like that?” he growls.

“Yes—God, yes.”

“Then take it. Take all of me.”

You’re close again. You can feel it.

And he knows.

He watches you fall apart — watches your eyes roll, your legs tremble, your mouth fall open — and when you come around him a second time, he grits his teeth and fucks you through it.

“That’s my pussy,” he mutters. “Fucking made for me.”

It doesn’t take him long after that.

Joe groans deep in his chest, thrusts once more, and comes inside you hard. Warm, thick and full, his body pressed against yours like he wants to leave a mark.

When he pulls out, he grabs your thigh and gives it a possessive squeeze. Then he leans in and kisses you — not sweet, not gentle — but deep and consuming.

“You’re fucking made for me.” he breathes against your lips.

You nod, dazed. “I know.”

He smirks. “Good.”

Because that’s what this is.

No labels.

No rules.

Just Joe.

"Kaitlynn what if he's at the bar today." I told my best friend as we all- me, her, and her boyfriend-climbed into her beat up car she refuses to get rid of even though she has the money to get a new one. According to her it carries too many memories, including her first kiss. "Girl I can promise you that he won't be here. When has he ever gone out on a weekday? Or at all for that matter." She asked me. I opened my mouth to say something but nothing came out. I mean she was right. All joe did after practice was stay at home. "Exactly." She said with a 'hmph' and started to pull out of my driveway. "Guaranteed, he's in his huge fucking house that he lives in all alone building legos or some shit." Derek said in the passenger seat. The deal tonight was that if Derek has to be the designated driver, Kaitlynn had to drive us all there in her car. "What a loser." She said. With a small and slightly unsure laugh, I gave her a small, "yeah, you're probably right."

Why am I so nervous to go to the bar tonight and see Joe? Well, Two weeks ago me and my boyfriend broke up, who just so happened to be Joe burrow. We had been together for five years until one little stupid fight turned into us breaking up. Don't ask me how it happened, because I really have no idea. All I know was that one day we were perfectly fine and the next it was like we hated each other all because I tried to get him to open up to me after he had a rough start of the season and wasn’t right mentally. In his defense, I know that he gets into rough patches when he isn’t doing too well and people start to doubt him and that I should’ve waited for him to come to me, but he didn't have to turn it into a screaming match like he did.

After about 15 minutes, we pulled into the parking lot of our favorite bar that we always come to when we want to have some fun and watch the bengals game; at least we used to come to watch the bengals games, now I have to force myself to watch my favorite NFL team because I grew up watching them and won’t let a breakup stop me from continuing to watch them. I mean how can you be in love with someone one minute and then break up with them the next? Luckily we weren't fully living with each other and I had my own apartment so I wasn't stuck with trying to find a place to stay, although I knew Kaitlynn would've let me stay for as long as I needed to.

"This is going to be fun, okay? Forget about that douche bag and let's go get drunk." Kaitlynn said and wrapped an arm around me when I met her in front of the car. We started walking towards the door, following Derek who led the way. "You know what? Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid little..." I tried to come up with something I hated about him but my brain went blank. Shit. "Dick." Kaitlynn said, trying to help me out and come up with something. I looked at her with a disappointed look on my face and said, "I would say that, but it wasn't small...like at all." The both of us began to laugh while walking inside of the bar, Derek holding the door open for us while trying to forget what I just said.

Immediately we walked up to the bar that was full of people. We squeezed our way in and then the bartender came up to us. First he went to Kaitlynn to get her order and then he looked over at me. "And what can I get for you?" He asked me and looked me up and down, his eyes resting on my breasts a little longer than I would've liked. Let's just say I wasn't ready to hook up with someone to take my mind off of Joe just yet…at least not sober me, which is why I’m extremely glad that Derek’s here because I know he’ll steer me in the right direction. I put my hands on the bar top and said, "can I please get a double vodka pineapple? And let's get a round of fireball please." The bartender looked me up and down once more before giving me a small smirk. "You got it. For you, it's on the house." He said and winked down at me. I tried to hold back a laugh, but as soon as he turned around and I looked at Kaitlynn who was also trying to hold back a laugh, we both couldn't hold it in any longer.

"So you're really planning on getting drunk tonight, huh? A double vodka pineapple and fireballs? You know you're a lightweight right?" She asked me. As I looked over at her, it was hard to ignore how Derek was holding her. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to him, and was looking around the entire bar. I couldn't help but think about how Joe would act when we went places. He was never possessive or jealous when we were together, but damn was he protective. He always wanted to be near me with his hands on me and he was always scanning the entire place so he could ensure that I was safe and that nobody tried anything.

"This is my first night out since the breakup so hell yes I'm planning on getting drunk. I don't want to wake up tomorrow without being hungover." I said and nudged her slightly. As soon as I said this, the bartender came back with our drinks including the fireball shots and he placed them in front of us. With one last wink in my direction, he walked away to go make some more drinks. We both picked up our shots and then Kaitlynn gestured over to me so we could cheers our shots. "Let's get so fucking drunk tonight bitch." She said. "Now that is something I will fucking cheers to!" I said with excitement. With an exaggerated head nod, Kaitlynn brought the drink to her lips and then downed it all.

Just as I was about to take my shot, I looked over somewhere on the other side of the bar and saw someone that I wasn't planning on ever seeing in person again. The one and only Joseph Lee Burrow. I hesitated for a few seconds as we held eye contact with each other, both of us looking shocked. I scanned over Joe's face as his mouth dropped open slowly and his eyebrows shot up to his hair line. My eyes then quickly went to his hair and my mouth dropped open as well, not ready for what I saw. Instead of seeing his usual dirty blonde long curls, I was looking right at his buzzed and bleached hair which showed off his facial structure even more than before. It was so incredibly hard to look away. The man I was so in love with just a couple weeks ago was sitting on the other side of the bar looking as good as ever with a new look, and I had to force myself to remember that he broke my heart. After remembering though, it was so incredibly easy to look away.

I quickly downed my shot and then looked over to Kaitlynn as I set my drink down on the bar top. "Shit." I said and then looked down at my hands. I wasn't prepared for this, I really wasn't. The last thing I expected was to see him here. Kaitlynn was right. It was a weekday, meaning that Joe shouldn't be here right now. He never went to bars or even left the house after he got back home from practice, especially now with the rough start to the season and losing to the ravens.

"What? What's wrong?" Kaitlynn asked me, putting a hand on top of my hand and looking down at me all worried. "Look who's here." I said with a fake smile and gestured across the bar without looking, even though I wanted to. Even though I may hate him now, he truly was easy on the eyes, which makes it hard not to glance over at him because I haven’t seen his face in forever. Kaitlynn looked into the direction I wanted her to look and immediately let out a loud groan and rolled her eyes. “We can go if you want, let's go babe." She said and began to rub my back.

With a sigh, I glanced back up and saw Joe who had his head down slightly. His eyes were closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, we're already here and I'm not drunk yet. Fuck it." I said with a shrug. After looking at Joe, I spotted Ja'marr and Sam who were on either side of Joe. It was obvious that they knew I was here but were trying not to make it too obvious, especially Ja'marr. Sam on the other hand glanced up at me and gave me a small and unsure smile and shrug. Before Joe and I met, I went to college at Ohio State and was friends with Sam way before he decided to introduce me to Joe, so it was nice to know that the breakup wasn't ruining things between us.

"Are you sure? There are other bars we can go to." Kaitlynn said. From next to her, Derek leaned over and said, "just say the words and we're out of here." I looked at the both of them and then grabbed my drink. "If anyone's leaving, it's him." I said and took a hearty sip of my drink. The both of them just stared at me for a few seconds before Kaitlynn grabbed her drink with a shrug and took a big sip just like me. The faster this alcohol took effect and my thoughts weren't consumed by Joe, the better.

It felt like every time I glanced up for a split second though to look at Joe, he was already staring right at me. Staring at me with those bright blue eyes. His gaze wasn't soft and innocent or angry and upset, it was just serious. It was hard to read him. It was like he was trying not to let me know what he was feeling or thinking. The one thing that I did know for certain was that he wasn't angry. We spent enough time together for me to at least know that. His brows were furrowed slightly but his jaw wasn't clenching at all.

"You okay babes?" Kaitlynn asked from next to me, tearing me from my thoughts immediately. I looked over at her quickly and then brought my drink to my lips and started to drink it quickly taking big sips, the vodka creating a slight burning sensation in the back of my throat. When there was nothing else left in my cup except ice, I set it on the bar top and then tried to get the bartenders attention once again. "I just need some more alcohol." I said with a sigh. The bartender walked back over to me and took my drink order, and this time I asked for a triple vodka cranberry, hoping it would help me feel something other than the slight buzz I already had going on from the alcohol I’ve already had.

After I finished the vodka cranberry which started to make my head feel a little fuzzy, meaning that I also couldn't stop smiling, I went to the bathroom. While in the stall, it sounded like every single girl in the bathroom was talking about how Joe Burrow was in the same exact bar as them and how they were going to try and act like they didn't know who he was to get his number. I couldn't help but roll my eyes while I walked out of the stall and then went to the sink. I pushed my bracelets up slightly and then turned the water on.

From a few feet away, I watched out of the corner of my eye as a girl got closer to her friend and began to whisper something into her ear, except she was obviously a terrible whisperer since I could hear word for word what she said: "Oh my gosh, that's Joe Burrow's ex. He apparently dumped her because she cheated on him." News to me. With a small scoff, I shook my head and turned off the water quickly as the other girl said, "no way, that's crazy. I'm sure she's a gold digger then." Without drying them off, I walked right past the girls, making sure to look them both in the eyes before I walked out of the bathroom.

"Fuck that." I said to myself, wiping my hands on my pants to dry them off. While I headed over to the bar, I began to look around to try and find Kaitlynn and Derek, but neither of them were where they were when I left. I furrowed my eyebrows slightly as I began to look around the bar, trying to spot them. Of course, me being me and always quick to think the worse, I figured that something happened and they had to leave without me.

But, after a few seconds of looking around, I spotted them at a table in the back of the bar. Both of their chairs were extremely close together and she was currently giving him her bedroom eyes: her eyes were narrowed in on him and closed slightly while she bit her lip. With a small laugh, I went back over to the bar that wasn't as crowded as before and sat on the bar stool. Immediately, the bartender came back over to me and leaned on the bar top with a smirk displayed on his face despite me not wanting another drink yet.

"So, did your friends ditch you?" He asked with a small chuckle and gestured somewhere behind me. I looked behind me again and saw them now kissing each other, quite eagerly may I add, despite Derek being completely sober and usually opposed to public display of affection, kind of like how Joe was with me. With a small eye roll, I looked back over to him with a small laugh myself. "It seems like it doesn't it? Maybe I will take another drink." I said with a sigh, figuring that I might be alone for a little bit since it looked like Derek and Kaitlynn were about to take it into the bathroom within the next few minutes.

"For sure, for sure. What can I get you?" He asked me. I bit the inside of my cheek and looked past him to try and think of what drink I wanted. My already foggy brain mixed with being put on the spot before I could think of what I wanted made for a slow response. "Uh..." I trailed off and then tilted my head a little bit while squinting my eyes, trying to think of what to get. My eyes then suddenly shifted over to Joe who was staring- no, glaring- at both me and the bartender with a slight scowl on his face as him and Ja'marr talked, despite Joe obviously not paying attention and not being interested. While he glared at the bartender who was still leaning on the bar top and occasionally glancing down at my breasts, Joe furrowed his brows while his jaw clenched repeatedly.

Not realizing I had caught him glaring at the both of us, Joe looked over to me with a glare on his face and we instantly made eye contact. Even though I thought he would look away as soon as he realized I had caught him, he never broke eye contact with me. After a few seconds, I furrowed my brows and pursed my lips. There was no way he was actually mad at me right now. I mean I truly must be imagining things. Not only did he break up with me and shatter all hopes of me getting married before 30, but now he's mad at me for talking with the bartender? Either Joe's mad that he's flirting with me or he's mad that I'm distracting the bartender from taking his drink order. Hopefully it wasn’t the first one.

After a few more seconds passed and Joe still never broke eye contact with me, I forced myself to look away and at the bartender who was waiting for me to tell him what drink I wanted. "I uh- I'll do...y'know what, surprise me." I said, feeling my face get hot from what just happened. "You got it, I'll be right back." He said and turned around to go make me something. As soon as he left I couldn't help but glance over at Joe whose eyes were following the bartender as he walked away from me, a scowl still on his face while his eyes were shooting bullets at him.

Before Joe could look back over at me and see how flustered and red I was, I put my head in my hands and started to focus on my breathing, trying to calm my currently racing heart. All of a sudden, a drink was placed in front of my face so I looked up to see a light pink drink. "All of the ladies love when I make this drink for them." He said. With a small smile, I straightened up a little bit so I wasn't slouching and looked him in the eyes. "What's in it?" I asked. "Guess. Here, if you like it...you have to give me your number." He said. I swallowed hard, not expecting him to say that, and tried to hold back a laugh. I wasn't going to come out and tell him straight to his face that I wasn't interested, especially because these free drinks were pretty nice, so I just played along.

"All right." I giggled and grabbed ahold of the drink. While making eye contact with him, I brought the tiny black straw up to my lips and then took a small sip of it. I furrowed my brows immediately and scrunched my face up as the liquid hit my tongue and I tasted what kind of alcohol he used. "Oh my- fuck. That's horrible." I said and pushed the drink away from me while shaking my head, trying to get the taste out of my mouth. "You're fuckin with me." He chuckled as his eyes widened, finding it hard to believe that I hated the drink. It was fruity which I loved, but let's just say I had a bad experience with Malibu when I was a teenager so I’ve stayed away from it ever since. "No, I hate Malibu. Holy shit that was terrible." I laughed and watched him take the drink and take a sip of it himself.

As soon as he swallowed the alcohol, he began to shake his head slowly while holding the drink up. "This fucking rocks, I don't know what you're talking about." He laughed and then set it back on the bar top. Once the drink was back near me, he put his elbows on the bar and then put his face in his hands so that we were eye level to each other. After a few seconds of just looking into each other's eyes, he said, "so I guess that means I can't get your number then, right?" He asked me. I did the same thing as him and put my elbows on the bar top. "No. I didn't say that. Plus we never shook on it so it doesn't even count." I said with a little shrug at the end, making up an excuse as to why I could give him my number.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. "Oh yeah, is that right? Well I guess I'm in luck then." He said and began to laugh as he got out his phone. "I guess you are." I giggled a little bit. Once he got out his phone and began to go to his contacts so he could get my phone number, I saw someone walking up to us out of the corner of my eye. Thinking it was probably Kaitlynn or Derek, I thought nothing of it and waited for him to hand me his phone. When he reached out to hand me the phone, someone walked up extremely close to me and then pushed the phone away from me. With a small scoff, I was about to look up at whoever was pushing the phone away but as soon as I was about to, my eyes landed on his hand that was now falling back down to his side.

I sucked in a small breath, immediately recognizing those veiny hands and long fingers. There were many distinctive parts about Joe: his hair, his eyes, his lips, nose, and of course his ass, but the other thing that was so distinctive about him was his hands, and now they were right in my face. "Leave her the fuck alone, man." Joe said from above me. My eyes immediately looked up to the bartender who looked up at Joe. His shoulders fell a little bit and his smile dropped right off of his face. His once confident expression and demeanor was instantly wiped away as soon as he was told to leave me the fuck alone by the one and only Joe Burrow. "I am so sorry, I'll leave her alone." The man said nervously and immediately took the drink that I hated and left me alone with Joe at the bar.

"What the actual fuck, Joe? What was that?" I asked Joe, spinning on my bar stool so I was now facing him as he leaned on the bar. Just like before, he wore that slightly angry expression, although this time I swear there was a hint of jealousy in there somewhere. "Oh come on, he obviously just wanted to get in your pants." Joe said, talking to me like I was dumb and couldn't pick up on what the man was trying to do. "Yeah, no shit, thanks for cock blocking me." I told him while rolling my eyes and looking away from him. “You were never the type of girl that fucked with casual hook ups. I mean hell, you even look like you could still be a virgin." He said. I looked back up to him quickly with a scoff and started to slide off of my seat. "Fuck you, Joe. If I'm not mistaken, you were the one who broke up with me, so why don't you just leave me the hell alone." I said while shaking my head.

Before I walked away, I looked Joe up and down with a look of disgust on my face before walking away from him. "Wait, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Can we please talk for a second?" Joe asked me. I could hear the sound of his heavy footsteps following closely behind me and it took everything in me not to turn around as soon as he asked me to. The way his voice was lowered drove me insane, and it always happened when he was trying to be serious or when he was mad. "Yeah I'm really not in the mood." I said while continuing to walk away from him. I didn't know where I was going, all I knew was that I wanted to get away from him. I can't believe he had the audacity to tell a man to leave me alone after he was the one who broke up with me. I could see where he was coming from if I was the one who ended things and moved on after 2 weeks, but he isn't justified for this in the slightest, so why should I hear him out? I earned the right to move on.

Deciding that going into the bathroom was probably the only way of getting away from him right now since he could follow me everywhere else, I made a right and headed down the short and secluded hallway that the bathrooms were in. "Don't be like that." Joe said. "Do I actually have to spell it out for you? I don't want to talk to you, Joe. What aren't you understanding?" I asked him, making sure to talk slower and enunciate my words clearly. "You're seriously being unreal right now. I mean honestly." Joe said. I angled my head up with a loud scoff and then turned around so I was now facing him. "Really? Me? Says the one that stopped me from talking to a man despite breaking up with me two weeks ago. Why can't you just go and find someone else to talk to? I'm sure every girl here will gladly go home with you." I said. "I don't want to talk to any other girl, I want to talk to you, alright? Just please let me explain. Give me five minutes." Joe pleaded with me, sounding desperate.

"There's nothing to explain. You're a piece of shit and I should've realize that far before now." I said and started to turn around so I could get away from him. I should've just kept walking in the first place. I knew turning around would be a bad idea yet I did it anyways. "Oh that's real rich coming from you." Joe said. Immediately, I stopped turning around and whipped my head back over to him, standing my ground. I clenched my jaw while biting down on my cheek slightly. "What's that supposed to fucking mean?" I asked him angrily. Joe took a step toward me while looking me up and down. "It means that you complain all the fucking time. If anything, I should've known." He said.

How did I even end up in this position? I mean what are the odds that the only day Joe burrow steps outside of his house and goes to a bar, I also go to the same bar as him? I mean truly. Joe was so against doing anything other than relaxing at home during the season, so why did he have to choose to change that up today? "Me? Alright Mr, 'you're talking to me too much before gameday, I have to get mentally prepared,' or my personal favorite, 'you misplaced my legos.' You complain all the time, Joe, not me." I said. Joe clenched his jaw while looking me up and down and then said, "y'know, this was such a big fucking mistake. I decide to come over and talk to you and you just can't get out of your own way. Typical." Joe said. "A little word of advice, Joe, when you break up with someone and tell them that the whole relationship was a mistake, you generally don't keep in contact with them." I said.

Joe opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. He finally shut it after accepting that he had nothing to say to me after what I just said. "Five fucking years, Joe. And all for nothing." I said and took a step away from him. Joe quickly shook his head. "It wasn't all for nothing." He said in a pained way. I waited a few seconds as we both looked into each others eyes. "'This was such a big fucking mistake, I shouldn't have walked up to you in that bar five years ago when Sam introduced us.'" I said, repeating word for word what Joe told me two weeks ago when he broke up with me. As soon as I said this, Joe's tough and serious appearance changed in an instant and he looked so upset. It was like he knew how much he fucked up and was so incredibly disappointed in himself. We held eye contact for a few seconds before I let out a small, "yeah," and then turned around and walked into the bathroom.

Once inside of the bathroom, I put both of my hands on the mirror and held my head low, trying to stop myself from crying and embarrassing myself. It's been three days since I've cried over Joe and I wasn't about to break that streak right now. It was just so hard though. In those four years that we were together, marriage was something we talked about frequently, especially after the third year. We liked to joke around about how we wanted to elope privately and intimately and then have a ceremony with our closest friends and family. We talked about it so much to the point where in my mind, I figured we would never break up and that we would actually get married one day. I mean it's not weird to think that, right?

Looking back on it, it was probably stupid to have such high hopes for something that I didn't know would ever come true, but it was a nice to not have to worry about the possibility of ever breaking up, which I thought we would never do. And now, I have to start all over again, all while knowing that these five years with Joe were a mistake. Those words kept repeating over and over again in my head: "This was such a big fucking mistake, I shouldn't have walked up to you in that bar five years ago when Sam introduced us." I couldn't stand it any more, I really couldn't. Joe is out there living it up and having a blast and I'm in here trying to hold back tears because of some boy. The only problem...he wasn't just some boy.

All of a sudden the door swung open. I quickly turned to see who it was and then leave the bathroom, but when I saw that it was just Kaitlynn, my shoulders fell and I gave her that all knowing looking. "Oh no! What happened?" She asked me and quickly walked up to me. I rolled my eyes while wiping a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. "Talk to me babe." She said and put both of her hands on my arms and started to rub them. If I didn't channel this sadness into something else, I would end up crying on the bathroom floor tonight eating ice cream with Kaitlynn, and I'll be damned if I'm going to do that again. "You know what? Fuck Joe...fuck his stupid ass football career, fuck his stupid ass house, his stupid ass Lego and SpongeBob obsession. He's a fucking lonely nerd and I'm too good for him." I said. Yeah. You keep telling yourself that.

"Hell yes. Are you ready to let go girl? You need this." She said with a big and excited smile. "I am so ready." I said and forced a smile. "Let's fucking do this then." Kaitlynn said. We both walked out of the bathroom together hand in hand and then headed down the small hallway. When we turned to go to our table they had in the back, I looked over at the bar instinctively and immediately made eye contact with Joe who looked upset. We held eye contact for about three seconds before I forced myself to look away and focus on getting drunk and letting all of the sadness and frustration wash away.

By an hour in, all of those sad thoughts and words Joe said to me were all out of my head and replaced with nothing but good ones. We once again found a place at the bar where I kept ordering shots for everyone, except for, "the football players in the back." There was no way I was going to order shots for Joe and his friends, even though those friends also happened to be my friends. "Let's get another round!" I told the bartender who hasn't stopped running around in the last hour. I put both of my hands on the bar and took a deep breath, trying to focus my eyes which felt like they couldn't focus. I also couldn't stop smiling and laughing along with Kaitlynn who was also having as much fun as I was.

In no time, the bartender came back with all of our shots so we all lined them up and then we all threw them back together. "Fuck yeah!" Kaitlynn yelled from next to me. "T-this is just so much f-fun." I said, slurring my words slightly, my brain feeling extra foggy. "Aren't you glad we did this!" Kaitlynn yelled into my face. "Woah, woah, we're right next to each other, don't yell at me!" I yelled right back in her face. The smile on her face fell immediately after I yelled at her but then we both started cracking up laughing. "You're so funny." She laughed. "I know right...What did I even say again?" I said. Once again we froze as soon as I said this and just looked at each other before Kaitlynn said, "I don't fucking know bitch," making us both laugh some more.

In a matter of five minutes, we went from drinking and having an amazing time, to all of the color on Kaitlynn's face disappearing and her holding her stomach. "Oh shit. Babe?" Kaitlynn asked. I put a hand over my mouth with wide eyes and looked from Derek to Kaitlynn, knowing what was about to happen. "If I see throw up...I will throw up." I groaned and pushed my hair out of my face, breathing heavily from all of the alcohol. "Ok, ok. Let's go. It's okay," Derek said in a rush and grabbed her, trying to get to the bathroom quickly, "stay right here, do not go anywhere." He told me sternly. I put both of my hands up into the air in surrender and nodded. "Ok." I said quickly.

Within a few minutes, it went from Kaitlynn and I drinking and having fun, to her and Derek going into the bathroom so she could throw up in private, leaving me all alone on the spinning bar stool. I crossed my arms over my chest while spinning on the stool and humming to myself, waiting for them to be all done and rejoin me out here. "How you doing?" Someone asked from next to me. I looked over quickly, recognizing the man from when I bought him shots. "Oh I'm doing great! Sorry, am I yelling? I can't hear myself." I laughed and tried to focus my eyes once again as they kept losing focus and taking forever to process things. "You're just fine," he said and then flagged down the bartender,  "can we get her some water over here?" I stuck out my bottom lip at the man's kind gesture and looked up at him. "You must be a dad, huh?" I asked him. "What gave it away?" He chuckled.

When my water came, I sipped on it while waiting for Kaitlyn to get done in the bathroom, but when it felt like they would never return, I looked back over to the man. "I'll be back." I said and then slid off of the stool. Pushing my hair away from my face and behind my ears, I was about to walk to the bathroom when something caught my eye from outside. "Aw, it's a dog...wait no, that's a cat." I said and pointed to the cat that was walking by the door leading outside. I looked around to see if anyone heard me, but when nobody acknowledged me, I shrugged and then headed for the door, wanting to take it inside and get it out of the rain. I began to hum to myself while walking to the door, but as soon as I started to push the door open, I felt a pair of hands go on both sides of my arms, holding me back slightly.

Immediately fearing the worst, I let out a small scream. "Woah. What the hell." I said quickly and in a rushed manner, quickly turning around as the man dropped his hands off of me. As soon as I turned around, I was face to face with a man's built chest, which made me immediately blush. "It's just me. It's okay. Let's get you away from the door, alright?" The man asked me. After hearing the man's voice, I raised an eyebrow, feeling like it sounded familiar. My eyes then trailed up the man's tall frame and to those bright blue eyes I used to love. "Oh, phew, it's just you. Hey Joey," I said but then immediately shook my head, "oops, can I still call you that? I know you reserve that for friends and I'm not really your friend anymore considering what happened. I don't think we have to hate each other though since we used to love each other." I said, rambling on and on while Joe just listened with a small smile, although he looked slightly worried.

"Joey is just fine. C'mere, let's go over to the table, is that okay?" Joe asked me. "You know, you were always all about consent. I loved that about you y'know. Your next girlfriend is going to be one lucky gal." I said with a smile before I started to walk in the direction he was leading me. After I took a few steps, I tripped over my own foot and let out a small scream as I started to head for the ground. "Shit!" I screamed. All of a sudden, I felt a pair of arms wrap around me slightly and pull me back up so I didn't fall and could regain my footing. "Oopsies. Sorry." I laughed as Joe quickly let go of me, not wanting to touch me without my permission since I wasn't his anymore, although he kept his arms close to me just in case they were needed again.

"It's okay." Joe chuckled as we reached the table. I stood with my hands on my hips and inspected the table as Joe pulled out a chair for me to sit in. "Is this table up to your standards?" Joe asked me. The good thing was that he knew exactly how I was when I was drunk and knew exactly how to handle me. "Oh yeah, this is a great table." I nodded with a thumbs up and then sat down in the chair Joe moved away from the table. Once seated, I put my head in my hands while looking around at all of the people, a never ending smile still displayed on my face. "I'm going to get you a water. Do you want any food?" Joe asked me, bending down slightly so I didn't have to look up too much to look into his eyes. "Uhh yes-wait...maybe? No actually. I already ate I forgot." I laughed a little bit.

Joe just chuckled and then walked over to the bar where he flagged down the bartender to ask for a water. While he was up at the bar waiting for my drink, he kept glancing back at me occasionally to make sure that I was still in the same place he left me and not walking outside to go get the cat. Then, before he walked back to me, he told Sam and Ja’marr something. After a few seconds, Joe came walking back over with the water in his hand, and at the same time, Derek came walking out of the bathroom with Kaitlynn who was putting almost her full body weight on him. Her hair was in her face and she looked like absolute shit. I couldn't help but laugh as she looked up at me and then put her head down and began to groan. "Fuck this." She groaned some more.

As soon as Joe heard me laugh, he looked in the direction I was looking at, which was behind him. When he saw how bad Kaitlynn looked he immediately stood up and moved out the chair some so she could sit down in it. Derek, just now realizing that Joe was sitting with me, looked Joe up and down. "What the hell are you doing over here?" He asked Joe. "She was about to walk outside so I stopped her and brought her to the table, that's all." Joe said. I could tell based on his facial expression that he knew he shouldn't have. He wasn't stupid. He knew how much he broke my heart and it looks like he hates himself for it. But he knew that if he didn’t stop me, I probably would’ve wondered off like I usually do. Every time he even looked in my direction, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, but not in anger. His gaze was soft and he got extremely fidgety.

My eyes glanced down to his hands as he began to mess with them and then his bracelets. "Derek he's fineeeee. Not like fine handsome wise, like fine as in not bad." I said and began to laugh at myself. Derek glanced over at me before looking back up to Joe. "Here, she can sit down if she wants. Get her off her feet." Joe said, gesturing down to Kaitlynn in the process who still looked like she got hit by a bus. "I have to go take her home right now. She's about to fucking pass out," he said and then looked over to me, "c'mon, I gotta get you home too." I immediately began to stand up but not before I tripped over the chair and fell down onto my hands and knees. "Oh shit." I laughed. I could see Joe's shoes right in front of my face before I felt his hands go under my arm pits. "Eww you probably felt my sweaty pitties." I laughed as he lifted me off of the ground with ease and set me down on my feet so I was upright.

"Shit. Can you help me get her to my car, man?" Derek asked Joe. Joe looked from me to Derek and then reluctantly said, "I could take her home if you want. You need to worry about Kaitlynn right now." The whole time they talked my attention was focused on them. "No, we're not doing that. Just help me get her to my car." Derek said. Joes brows furrowed and he shook his head while instinctively reaching up and pushing the hair off of his forehead, although there was no hair to move. "I'm not fucking doing this for me, alright? I'm doing this for her. Are you going to walk her up the stairs of her apartment since she's afraid of elevators and make sure she gets to her bedroom alright?" Joe asked Derek, knowing he wouldn't want to leave Kaitlynn in the car for that long unattended. When Joe still wasn’t convincing Derek, he added in, “or what about when she starts to go into her little freak out stage of being drunk where she cries and feels guilty?” Derek hesitated a second before he let out a loud sigh. "She's got to be okay with it though." Derek said.

Both of their heads turned towards me as I was listening intently to their conversation. My eyes widened as soon as the attention was put on me so I just shrugged. “I don't care who I go home with. I’m not crashing yet but when I do, I’m gonna want my bed." I said with a giggle and then began to walk towards the door, knowing that if I initiated it, one of them would be forced to follow after me. Just like I expected, I got a few steps ahead of them and then I heard Joe’s footsteps behind me who started following me. “Oh no!” I said a little too loudly than I should’ve. “What? What happened?” Joe asked me in a worried tone when he finally caught up with me, his long legs able to take longer strides than my shorter legs.

I looked outside and saw that the light sprinkle turned into a down pour. Not the kind that you could run out and still be able to stay semi dry, it was the kind of rain that made you soaking wet the second you stepped outside. The kind of rain Joe and I shared our first kiss in. I quickly shook away that thought and then looked back over at Joe while sticking out my bottom lip. “See?” I asked him and pointed outside before I let out a long sigh and then headed for the door with my shoulders hung low, not excited to go out there and get completely soaked.

While I walked, I didn’t hear Joe behind me, so I waited a few more seconds. When I still didn’t hear him catching up with me, I tried to turn around but the second I was about to, I felt something go over top of my head. I flinched a little bit, not expecting something to be placed on my head and then looked up to see a jacket over top of my head. With a small giggle, I ducked under the jacket and made eye contact with Joe who was chuckling. “Why thank you Mr Burrow.” I giggled again as we reached the door.

“Anytime,” Joe chuckled while reaching into his pocket to unlock his car, “okay, the car’s unlocked, are you ready to run?” Joe asked me. I took a deep breath and then looked back over to him but this time he ducked so I didn’t have to duck to look at him. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.” I said excitedly and then reached for the door. In a matter of seconds, it went from Joe and me standing inside together to the both of us sprinting to the car while Joe still kept the jacket over my head.

We both were laughing like crazy while trying to hurry up and get to the car, both of our clothes, shoes, and Joe’s hair getting soaked in the process. As we ran, we both kicked up the water on the ground, making our backs even more drenched. Finally, we got to the car. We were both breathing heavily from running so fast while not being able to get enough air into our lungs from how much we were laughing. As fast as he could, Joe opened up the passenger side door and then moved out of the way so I could climb in. For a few seconds I just stood there looking at his car, forgetting what I was doing out here with him. “Get in!” Joe laughed. “Oh yeah, right!” I laughed and then hopped into his car, joe taking his jacket off of my head in the process.

Once in the car, I flipped down the visor and started to fix my hair in the mirror but instead got distracted by Joe who was running around the front of the car. Before he could get to the door though, he took another step and then started to slip but grabbed ahold of his car instead and then shuffled to the door. As soon as he opened it, I pointed at him while laughing and yelled in a somewhat mocking manner, “haha, you almost fell.” I stuck my tongue out while he jumped into the car and then slammed the door shut.

The clothes he was wearing were absolutely soaked through and his hair was drenched. “Excuse me? I just helped get your ass into the car so you didn’t get your precious hair wet, be grateful.” Joe chuckled before starting the car, turning on the heat, and then looking into the mirror himself. Joe lifted up his hands and ran them through his short hair, water droplets falling off in the process. My eyes then dropped down to his biceps and then, as I was trying to drag them off of him, I spotted his hard nipples peaking through his wet shirt. I gulped slightly before looking up at his face and then processed what he just said.

“Speaking of precious hair…what the actual fuck did you do to your Lucious curls Joey. Wait-is that still cool if I call you Joey? I know your friends call you Joey a lot and I don’t know where we stand because uh-well y’know you broke up with me. Plus I used to say that in a flirty way so if that makes you uncomfortable I understand.” I said, talking extremely fast and rushed while slurring over my words in the process, the mixture of being drunk and currently being in my ex boyfriend’s car proving to be a lot. The only thing that stopped me from continuing was Joe looking over at me.

For a split second I felt like I could see sadness in his eyes from me bringing up the fact that he was my ex boyfriend, but then he blinked quickly and said, “we already talked about this, remember? Joey’s perfectly fine. I uh- needed a change, Y’know? I just had gotten over a season ending injury and I-well, broke up with you…” Joe said and started to trail off but then added in, “yeah I just needed a change. Why, do you not like it?” He asked me and then looked into the mirror to look at his hair and his frosted tips due to his roots growing out considering that the fifth week of football just passed. “No, It doesn’t look bad. Don’t get me wrong, I loved your curls more than anything, but this little buzzed era looks good on you too.” I said.

Just as Joe was about to say something else, I gasped loudly and then brought my hands up to cover my mouth. Joe’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, not expecting me to make such a loud noise. “Speaking of change….I got a tattoo! Kaitlynn and I went a week ago!” I yelled excitedly. “No way. Show it to me or I won’t believe you.” Joe said, shocked that I got a tattoo since I always talked about how I would never get one because of how indecisive I was and how I would surely regret it afterwards. I hesitated for a split second before I took a deep breath and then turned so my back was facing him. I gathered up all of my hair and put it all on one side and then slowly lifted up the shirt I was wearing, revealing my bare back with my lacy bra I wore just in case I got lucky, and the spine tattoo that I just recently got.

It was a long tattoo with different kinds of flowers that started at the very top of my back and ran down my spine to just above my waist line. “Do you see it?” I giggled before Joe gave me a quick, ‘mhm.’ I let go of my shirt and then let my hair fall back down onto my back while turning around to look at Joe again. When I looked at him, I couldn’t help but notice how his cheeks flushed red and the lack of eye contact he was making with me. “Uh oh…is it bad? It’s bad huh? Does it look wonky? Oh no.” I said, getting all nervous.

Joe immediately perked up and then quickly said, “no, no it doesn’t look bad. Not at all. You-it looks really good.” Joe said, stumbling over his words a little bit. I couldn’t help but grin at his comment, knowing that Joe is always honest when it comes to these types of things. “Well thank you.” I said. I reached for the seat belt so I could buckle up and then I reached into my purse, knowing I had a water bottle somewhere in there, my throat suddenly feeling sore, probably from talking loudly and laughing non stop.

When I grabbed my water, I opened it up and immediately started to chug it, not thinking anything of it. Joe waited for me to finish drinking my water so he just sat there, although I could see him looking over at me out of the corner of my eye. I took about four big gulps of water before I finally realized that what I was drinking was most definitely not water. My face scrunched up as soon as my throat and nose started to burn, feeling like it was on fire. I pulled the bottle away from my mouth as fast as I could, spilling a little bit in the process and then swallowed the last bit of liquid in my mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck me.” I said quickly while coughing, my throat still on fire from chugging the drink. My whole body was covered in goosebumps and I began to shake a little bit out of disgust.

“No fucking way… was that full of alcohol?” He asked me and grabbed the bottle from my hand. While I tried to recover from the four shots of Tito’s that I just had on accident, Joe brought the bottle up to his nose and smelled it, his own face scrunching up as the strong smell of alcohol filled his nose. “I was just starting to feel more sober. Why did I have to forget?” I asked and put my hands on the top of my head, my eyes quickly becoming slow to react as the alcohol already started to hit me. “Why would you have a water bottle full of straight alcohol?” Joe asked me while he grabbed the cap from me before twisting it back on and throwing it in the back where I couldn’t reach it. “It was Kaitlynn’s idea. I don’t even know.” I said and started to breathe heavier, not ready to feel drunk all over again. Hey, at least this way I wouldn’t be hungover yet.

“Hey, it’s okay. Alright? Don’t freak out on me yet. Are you okay?” Joe asked me calmly. I looked over at him and dropped my hands down into my lap before I started to laugh. “Word. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.” I said and nodded at him. Joe just chuckled while putting the car in reverse so we could head to my apartment. After putting the car in reverse, he turned around slightly while placing one hand on the back of my head rest and looking out the rear window so he could backup. A breath got caught in my throat as soon as the smell of his strong cologne filled my nose, instantly reminding me of hugging him after a he got done with his post game press conference when he would douse himself with cologne after the shower.

My eyes then drifted over to his huge arm that was right in front of my face. I couldn’t help but trail my eyes over the long and prominent vein that started on his lower forearm and ran up his entire arm where it escaped under his shirt. My thoughts immediately went to all the times where I would trail kisses up that exact vein. I couldn’t tell if it was all of the alcohol making me hot and flustered or the fact that my ex boyfriend, who I was so in love with just a few weeks ago, was sitting in front of me and showing me all of those features that I absolutely loved.

I quickly looked away from him and forced myself to look straight ahead at where we were going, and by the time I did that Joe had taken his arm off of my headrest and was facing forwards himself. While Joe drove me to my apartment which was fairly close to the bar we were at, the alcohol was quickly taking effect and I couldn’t stop laughing. My eyes were extremely slow to react and every time I tried to talk it felt like I really had no control over my words, which made me terrified that I would say something I would regret considering that just a few hours ago I hated Joe and never wanted to see him again.

“Can I be 100% honest with you Joseph?” I giggled and looked over at him while he turned on his turning signal and merged into the left lane. “Are you sure you want to?” Joe chuckled, not wanting me to embarrass myself in front of him when I couldn’t really control what things came out of my mouth. “All I was going to say was that I’m extremely hungry. Like I could fuck up some Taco Bell,” I said and as soon as I started to think about eating Taco Bell, I accidentally let out a moan while saying, “fuck.” I immediately put my hands over my mouth while laughing, my face heating up while Joe started to laugh, his own face getting red as well. “I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassing. Fucking hell.” I laughed, which made Joe laugh even more.

“Well it’s a good thing that I already thought of that. You want a Crunchwrap supreme?” Joe asked me. I whipped my head over to look at him and gasped. “How do you know that that’s my favorite thing to eat when I’m drunk? Holy shit-can you read my mind? What am I thinking right now?” I asked him and put my index fingers on my temples, trying my hardest to put my thoughts into Joe’s head. “One, I know you, and two, you’re probably thinking about how fucked up your stomachs going to be tomorrow from the Taco Bell mixed with the alcohol.” Joe said before he turned into the Taco Bell parking lot and then got into the drive through.

My eyes widened and I let out another gasp. I lifted my hands up into the air and started to freak out a little bit at Joe’s answer. But then after a few seconds I dropped my hands and shook my head. “No, actually. I was thinking about,” I said but started to hiccup, “how much I want to play just dance.” I said and started to dance to the music that I just realized Joe was playing, but then he turned it down as he rolled down his window. “Hey what the heck.” I said and stuck out my bottom lip. “I’m sorry, I’ll turn it back up in one second.” Joe chuckled and then leaned towards the window as soon as the girl asked what he wanted. “Can I get a Crunchwrap supreme please,” Joe said and then looked over at my lap to see me picking at the skin around my nails, “and a chicken quesadilla?” Joe asked. I looked up at him quickly and immediately stopped picking at the skin around my nails and I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease up.

It was the little things that always made me fall head over heels for Joe when we were together. From the very start of us dating, Joe learned about my weird habits or quirks and the things that made me nervous or anxious, and one of those things was eating when nobody else was. It was something I always struggled with and when I was with Joe I never had to worry about that. Even when he had already eaten or when he hated the food we were getting, like Taco Bell, he always made sure to get something to eat so he could eat with me. Even drunk I still worried about that, and Joe knew that.

When we pulled up to the window, joe payed and then after a few minutes we got the food and were back on the road and heading to my apartment. “Ooh this food smells so good joe. I’m getting excited.” I said and rubbed my hands together while opening up the bag and looking inside of it. Before Joe could say anything in response, the song changed and started to play The Less I Know The Better by tame impala. “Someone said they left together, I ran out the door to get her. She was holding hands with Trevor. Not the greatest feeling ever.” I sang along to the song and then reached into the back and grabbed ahold of my water bottle. “No, no, no. No more.” Joe said, thinking I was going to drink some more, but then stopped as soon as he noticed that I was only using it as a microphone.

“Said pull yourself together, you should try your luck with heather. Then I hope they slept together. Oh the less I know the better.” I sang. I began to sway and dance to the beat of the song, putting my hands up and running them through my hair. When Joe started to sing along to the song with me, I smiled brightly while giving him the ‘microphone,’ but then used it for myself when my favorite part came up. “I was doing fine without ya til I saw your face, now I can’t erase. Giving in to all his bullshit. Is this what you want? Is this who you are?” As soon as this part was over, Joe pulled into my apartment complex and looked for a spot closest to the door so I put down my water and started to look for one with him. “Ooh ooh, right there!” I said loudly and pointed to an open parking spot that just so happened to be right next to my car.

With a small chuckle, Joe pulled into the parking spot and then shut off the car before looking over at me. “Okay, can you wait until I open up your door to get out?” He asked me while I unbuckled my seatbelt. I nodded my head and gave him a double thumbs up but then looked down at my thumbs and furrowed my eyebrows. “Do my thumbs look like they’re wavy? I feel like they look wa-wavy.” I said and squinted my eyes to get a better look at them. “Uhm, do you want them to be wavy?” He asked me, wanting to base his answer off of if I wanted them to be wavy or not. “Ew no that’s scary.” I said and looked up at him while showing him my thumbs. “No, they look pretty straight to me.” He said and then began to open up his door. “Phew, okay good.” I said and let out a huge sigh of relief.

When Joe got out of the car, I watched him walk around the front of the car and then once he got over to my side he opened up my door. “Are you ready to get out?” He asked me. “Let’s do this thing!” I said but then began to laugh afterwards. I quickly swung my legs out of the car and placed them on the solid ground under me which helped my spinning head. Luckily Joe drove his Porsche so we were close to the ground. “Do you think you’ll ever get rid of her? Because if so,” I said but then got distracted by a person that was walking up to the door, “I’ll take her.” I finished what I was saying and then just put my hands out in front of me, needing Joe to help me up.

“Her?” Joe asked me before grabbing ahold of my hands and lifting me up and out of the car with ease. When I stood up, I didn’t realize just how close Joe and I were until I looked up and made eye contact with him. I could see Joe clenching his jaw and I could tell his breathing started to pick up slightly. We held eye contact for a few seconds before his eyes slowly looked me up and down, a breath getting caught in his throat in the process. “Your Porsche, duh. Who else would I be talking about silly goose.” I laughed and then shut the door. With Joe still standing there, practically frozen in place, I started to walk away from him and to the door of my apartment complex. After a few seconds of just standing there and composing himself, l could hear Joe’s heavy footsteps behind me before I could see him out of the corner of my eye.

While we walked he kept his eyes on me the entire time, making sure he was ready at all times to either chase after me or stop me from falling. “I’m not planning on getting rid of her, but if I ever do, you’ll be the one that gets her.” Joe said. I looked over at him quickly and to those bright blue eyes. “Really? You mean it?” I asked him loudly, my mouth hanging open slightly. “Yeah, duh.” Joe said, copying what I said to him when he asked what ‘her,’ I was referring to, making me laugh. “Yes!” I said excitedly. When we reached the door, Joe stepped in front of me so he could hold it open for me and then walked in right after me. To my left was the stairs and to the right was the elevator that I hated so incredibly much. Although it wasn’t an old building, the elevator doors rattle every time the thing moves and it sounds like at any second, the whole things going to fall. It lets out a low groaning kind of sound that practically makes me have a panic attack every time I hear it, which is why I stay away from it.

“Are you able?” Joe asked me. Just as I was about to run up the stairs, I took a step forwards and instantly felt extremely dizzy. “Woah.” I said and grabbed onto the railing by the stairs. “I’ll take that as a no.” Joe chuckled. When Joe realized that I wasn’t going to be able to walk up without help, he walked over to me and then grabbed ahold of my arm gently and put it around his neck. “Oh gosh. Oh boy.” I said, my voice shaking when I realized how hard it was going to be to make it up four flights of stairs. “Hey, I got you. We got this. You ready?” He asked me. I looked over at him and I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw how big he was smiling, obviously finding amusement in my current state that left me basically helpless.

“This isn’t fun-funny.” I said, slurring over my words slightly, my head feeling extremely fuzzy. “Maybe not for you,” Joe laughed and then got serious for a second, “can I?” Joe gestured down to my waist. I looked from his eyes down to my waist where I saw his hand hovering over, wanting permission before he wrapped his arm around me. “Go for it.” I laughed. Joe wrapped his arm around my waist and held onto me with his cool hand, making me suck in a breath at the sudden contact. His ice cold hand that was holding tightly at my waist and lifting me up so he could help me up the stairs made so many thoughts run through my head, except I knew I shouldn’t be having them. It was wrong. You’re okay. Ignore it.

I pushed down all of the thoughts that were currently running through my head while Joe’s hands were on my body and tried to focus on walking up the stairs so he wasn’t doing all of the work, although it was hard because suddenly my legs felt like noodles. “We’re almost there, just a little bit longer.” Joe said, realizing how much the alcohol was hitting me. Just like clockwork, my mind started to go to all of the negative things that happened tonight and how much I was regretting getting drunk. It always happened without fail and I always ended up crying and being scared that people were mad at me or that I would somehow die. “Hey Joey?” I asked him, my breathing getting heavier. “Yeah?” He asked me and immediately looked down at me, sensing a change in my voice right away. “I’m so sorry. This was a bad idea.” I said, feeling tears start to form in my eyes. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s all good. It’s okay. Everything is fine.” Joe said, trying to pull me back from the edge that I already fell over.

“No, I’m so dumb and stupid. I get drunk at a fucking…bar, yeah, a bar, and then I make my ex boyfriend take me home. Who does that?” I said, tears starting to stream down my cheeks. “It happens and it’s completely normal. Nobody thinks you’re dumb or stupid. Plus I offered to take you home, you didn’t make me do anything.” He said and started to rub my arm slightly, trying his best to comfort me while still focusing on getting me into my apartment. “Are you sure?” I sniffled while looking up at him. Joe chuckled while nodding and said, “I am 100% sure.” He said.

I began to nod to myself, the realization that if joe didn’t think it was embarrassing or bad, then it wasn’t, especially because he gets embarrassed easily. We finally made our way up to the fourth floor where Joe opened up the door and then led me into the hallway. My apartment was extremely close to the stairs so in no time Joe walked over to the door and reached into my bag and grabbed out my key. As I stood there with Joe holding most of my body weight up, I began to sway a little bit which made him hold me even tighter.

Everything looked so blurry and I kept forgetting things that I just said. When Joe finally opened up my door, he walked me in and immediately went over to the dining room table where he pulled out a chair and made me sit down. I let out a small groan before a feeling of dread washed over me, realizing just how bad I felt. “Stay right here I’m going to go get some water.” Joe said after setting the bag of Taco Bell on the table in front of me and then disappearing into the kitchen. I put both of my hands on the table and tried to focus extra hard on them, my eyes and whole body feeling extremely weird. “Hey Joey?” I called out to Joe. I could hear the refrigerator open and then close before I heard Joe’s footsteps getting closer to me.

“Yeah?” He asked me and then plopped himself down in the chair next to me. I looked over at him with glossy eyes, the tears coming back as my head was filled with the same drunk thoughts that always appear during a night of heavy drinking. Joe was just sitting there and looking at me with a small understanding smile on my face, knowing that this was normal for me. “Am I,” I said but then got distracted by something past him, “am I always going to feel like this? What if it doesn’t go away?” I asked him, tears now streaming down my face. “It will go away, I promise you. When you wake up tomorrow all you’ll be feeling is hungover.” Joe chuckled. I stuck out my bottom lip after he told me I would be hungover and started to cry even more, my bottom lip beginning to quiver slightly. “Hey,” Joe chuckled while leaning forwards and putting a hand on mine, finding it hard not to laugh in this moment, “It’ll be okay.”

I held my face in my hands and then let out a small, “can we eat now?” Joe immediately reached for the bag and dumped out the food inside of it, along with the napkins and sauce packets. “Yes, you need to eat. Can you also drink your water for me please?” He asked me while he placed my crunch wrap supreme in front of me that he opened. I nodded and grabbed ahold of my water bottle and tried to open it. “Come on.” I groaned, the cap not budging. I let go and shook my hand a little bit before Joe grabbed it from me and opened it up. “Oh, thanks.” I said when he handed it back to me. I brought the bottle up to my nose and smelled it a few times, making sure it wasn’t full of alcohol this time. Joe just chuckled while grabbing the sauce packets and opening them up with his teeth, knowing I love to put hot sauce on practically everything I eat.

While he did that I lowered the bottle down to my mouth and started to take big sips. “Woah, woah, small sips.” Joe said to me before he began to unwrap his quesadilla. My eyes dropped down to his hands as he folded back the wrapper on it, finding it hard not to stare at all of those prominent veins that decorated them. While I made it completely obvious that I was staring at his hands-which I’ve told him were my favorite part of his body a million times before-I took a few small sips of my water and then set down my drink so I could start eating. I grabbed ahold of my food, put some hot sauce on it that Joe opened up for me, and then took a big bite of it while tears still streamed down my face. My eyes shut right away as soon as I started to chew the food in my mouth and I angled my head upwards while letting out a groan, suddenly not feeling like crying anymore. “Oh yeah.” I said with a mouth full of food and then took another bite.

When I got to my last bite of food with my eyes still shut and head angled upwards, I began to sway a little bit in my seat, feeling very uneasy and exhausted. I tried to open up my eyes, but they were far too heavy and would take too much effort, so I kept them shut. “Are you good?” Joe asked me after I heard him crumble up his wrapper and toss it into the bag. Without seeing him, I could tell he tossed it like a basketball while imagining that the bag was the hoop, which he always does. “Mhm…tire,” I said but when Joe started to chuckle I perked up slowly but still kept my heavy eyes shut, “tired.”

With the food still in my mouth, I set my head down on the table, wanting to just give into sleep instead of forcing myself to stay awake. “Hey, hey, hey, swallow the food in your mouth.” Joe said quickly. “That’s too…hard.” I said quietly, yawning in the middle of my sentence. “C’mon, sit up a little bit and swallow.” Joe said. There was a few seconds of silence before I snorted loudly from trying to hold back a laugh and then we both burst out into laughter. “That’s what he said.” I laughed while opening my eyes for a split second. Joe reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose while shaking his head and belly laughing.

I kept my eyes open for a little bit longer, just admiring the man in front of me who was laughing uncontrollably. I didn’t realize just how much I truly missed him until now. I missed watching him belly laugh until he started crying. I miss letting him ramble on and on about space and things I don’t quite understand, I miss how caring and compassionate he is, I miss how he never fails to put a smile on my face… and how he could always cheer me up or calm me down in any given situation. In the weeks I spent away from Joe, I realized just how much of an impact he made in my life. When work was kicking my ass and I came home upset, Joe was always there with a shoulder to cry on and encouraging words. When I got drunk and needed help not only physically, but mentally as well when my mind played tricks on me, joe was always there with everything I needed.

When Joe’s laughter died down and I didn’t want him to know that I was staring at him, I shut my eyes once more and rested my head back on the table below me. While I struggled with not falling asleep, I could feel Joe’s eyes on me the entire time. But, In no time, I could feel my drunk and exhausted self begin to drift off to sleep, despite me trying not to. “Let’s go to bed before you fall asleep.” Joe said, slightly pulling me back from a deep sleep. All I let out in response was a quiet and incoherent jumble of words that Joe just chuckled softly at. “Okay.” He said.

The next thing I knew, I could feel my chair being scooted back and then I felt myself being lifted up into the air. Although barely awake enough to realize it, Joe had scooped me up into his arms with one arm under my legs and one wrapped around my back, holding me tightly to him bridal style. I let out a small hum while nuzzled my head into his chest ever so slightly as he carried me. I could tell that Joe was trying his best not to wake me up fully with any sudden movements or by hitting my leg against a wall by the way he silently tiptoed to my bedroom.

In no time, Joe placed me on top of my comfy bed extremely gingerly and then put my blanket over top of me, tucking me in slightly. My eyes remained closed the entire time and my head was still spinning. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything else?” Joe asked me. I could tell that he didn’t want to leave me all alone with the state I was in. For all he knew, when he left I could decide to be sick and not have anyone here to help me. I knew I shouldn’t have done it. I knew I should’ve just sent him a text in the morning saying thank you, but I didn’t want to be all alone if I somehow ended up being sick, and I didn’t want Joe driving home this late at night. “Can you stay?” I asked him quietly. I could hear Joe breathe out a sigh of relief before I felt him adjusting my comforter gently. “I’ll be on the couch, yell for me if you need anything at all.” Joe said. I nodded while turning over in bed and breathing out a quiet, “thank you Joey.”

“You’re welcome Ba- …goodnight.” Joe said. I could hear his heavy footsteps leading to the door as he made his way out of the room. Once he reached the door I could tell that he stopped for a split second, maybe looking at me or maybe not, but then he shut the light off and his footsteps disappeared down the hall. Did he just almost call me baby? He couldn’t have, right? That was just my mind playing tricks on me? The last thing I heard before sleep overtook me was the closet door opening up that held all of the blankets, meaning Joe really was staying the night and he didn’t just tell me that to make me feel better…and here I thought I’d never be near him again.

In the morning

My eyes fluttered open the next day to see the bright sun shining in from my window that was open and letting in some fresh air, although I knew it was shut the day before. After a few seconds of trying to process what happened the night before, I sat up in bed and was instantly hit by a headache so strong that it made me grab ahold of my head. I let out a small groan while furrowing my brows and started to glance around the room, not remembering how I ended up here last night. I remembered going to the bar with Kaitlynn, talking with the hot bartender who was into me…then seeing Joe. I quickly took my hands off of my head as the smell of food being cooked filled my nose. My eyes widened and I sat up some more as almost every single event from the night before came back to be all at once. Getting so wasted that Joe had to take me home, getting Taco Bell with him after I drank even more alcohol, having a little freak out moment when the alcohol hit me extra hard, and then Joe carrying me to bed where I asked him if he could stay the night.

“Oh shit.” I said to myself and started to rub my temples. Not only was I apparently having the worst hangover of my life, but Joe was right outside of my bedroom making food. I was supposed to hate him. He was a complete douchebag and broke up with me for no apparent reason not even a month ago. There were no signs or warnings. Nothing. Just him getting angry one day and saying all these things about how the time we spent together was a mistake. He shouldn’t be in my house right now and I should have never let him take me home, except I knew that if he wasn’t the one to take me home, I probably would’ve had a panic attack while being home alone and drunk with no one to reassure me that I wasn’t going to feel drunk forever.

I was quickly pulled from my thoughts when I heard Joe talking to someone from outside of my room. “Mom just calm down I can’t understand you.” He said and at the sand time I looked to my night table and saw three pills of Advil next to a small glass of water. Without hesitation, I grabbed the pills, threw them in my mouth, and took a big sip of water to wash them down, needing this headache and the nausea to go away as soon as possible. “What? What are you talking about? What picture?” He asked. After a few seconds, I could hear a deep sigh fall from his lips before he said, “shit, I didn’t see that. Yes everything’s fine mom I promise.” He said.

I swung my legs over the bed and scooted closer to the door on my bed, trying to listen in to his conversation. I knew I would have to go out there and face him one way or another, but I didn’t want to go just yet. “I said I promise. I was at the bar with my friends and she just so happened to be there as well with her friends. She got drunk so I offered to take her home. She couldn’t drive mom.” He said. “I didn’t take advantage of her,” Joe raised his voice slightly, “she was so drunk that she could barely even walk up to her apartment. I walked up with her and waited there with her until she was ready to go to bed. She asked me to stay so I did…I wasn’t just going to leave her all alone.” He said.

I held a hand up to my mouth and started to bite the skin around my nails, not knowing what to do. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen mom, but I’m not upset that it did,” Joe said and paused while his mom talked, “she’s still sleeping right now and then after I will.” He said. I could hear him rummaging around in the cupboards while listening to his mom talk. “I know I owe her an explanation, but it’s not going to give her any closure. I fucked up and-yeah… I don’t even know.” Joe trailed off. I put both of my hands on my face and began to rub my eyes, not ready to walk out there just yet. I didn’t want to see Joe in my house and know that he was only here because I got drunk yesterday. What made me even more hesitant to walk out there was the thought that maybe he stayed for a different reason.

After procrastinating for a few minutes and tuning out the rest of the conversation Joe was having with his mom, I finally decided to walk out of the kitchen and face Joe. “Okay mom, I love you too.” Joe said. Perfect, he was hanging up. After walking out of my bedroom, I walked past the bathroom and then turned right, which led to the kitchen and living room, giving me a clear view of Joe. He was just standing there with his hands on the counter, his head low and back facing me, looking like he was deep in thought. I took another step towards him and just as I did the floor under me began to creak slightly. Joe perked up and then turned around to look at the noise.

I stood there, frozen in place, finding it weird that he was back in my house after what happened two weeks ago. When we made eye contact with each other, Joe instantly smiled and walked over to the other side of the counter and pulled out a stool for me to sit on. “How are you feeling?” He asked me. I quickly shook my head but then grabbed my head as soon as I realized it made my headache way worse. I let out a groan while Joe chuckled and then started to walk over to the stool he pulled out. “Noted,” Joe said while walking back over to the stove where he was cooking some bacon, “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I tried to be quiet.”

I sat down extremely gingerly and then looked up at him. “Oh, no, you didn’t.” I said. “Gotcha. Good.” He said with an awkward laugh. Because I didn’t want him to be the only one laughing in this eerily quiet apartment, I let out a little awkward laugh too, which just made it even worse. What the hell was going on? Yesterday we were goofing around and having fun with each other like we were back in college and drunk, and now the awkwardness was enough to make me want to jump out of my fourth story window. Our conversation felt like we had just met each other and were trying to make awkward conversation to make it less awkward. Hell, our first conversation with each other wasn’t even this bad and that was after him and Sam were looking for me and walked in on me laying down on the bathroom floor while at a party…and I was completely sober.

I let out a small sigh and then began to fiddle with my fingers in my lap, ripping even more skin off of my fingernails. After a few seconds I glanced back up at Joe, having no idea what the move was, and at the same time he glanced down at me. We both looked away quickly; I looked back down at my lap and Joe turned around to flip the bacon over in the pan. The awkwardness filled the room like a thick smoke that made it hard to breathe, and I knew that if I didn’t say something, it would only get worse. “You had a great game on Sunday by the way. It was a bit ugly but you still pulled out the win. Plus I know you didn’t win but you played amazing against the ravens.” I said, breaking the silence. I began to suck in my lips some at how much I said to Joe, thinking he might find it weird. Immediately Joe turned around to look at me, relieved that one of us finally spoke up. “Oh, yeah, an ugly win is still a win,” joe chuckled but then began to rub the back of his neck, “but I don’t know about ‘amazing’ against the ravens, We still lost in overtime because of my interception.” He said.

I could tell he was beating himself up over it. Joe was always so hard on himself; Always taking accountability when it wasn’t his fault and never putting the blame on his teammates, even when they were the problem. “Joseph Lee Burrow you are leading the NFL in almost everything and scored almost 40 points…you may not believe it right now, but you’re killing it.” I said. Joe quickly looked up from his hands with a small shrug and then a smile appeared on his face. “You really watched the game on Sunday?” He asked me, sounding slightly shocked. I let out a small scoff and nodded. “Of course. We may not be together anymore but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll always be a bengals fan.” I said. “Phew, for a minute there I thought you were going to say you were rooting for the ravens.” Joe chuckled. “Ew I could never root for them. If you recall they were chanting, ‘fuck Joe Burrow,’ after your wrist injury,” I said and then acted all grossed out, “never, ever, accuse me of rooting for the ravens. Ever.”

The both of us started laughing together after what I said and when the laughter began to die down after a few seconds, we looked up over at each other and held eye contact. For a few seconds we just gazed into each other’s eyes without saying a word, small smiles on our faces. I couldn’t help but think about all of the times when Joe would surprise me in the morning by sneaking in while I was sleeping and make me breakfast. When I woke up and smelled food throughout the entire house, I always knew it was him, and after I would sit on this spinning stool like I am right now and watch him cook.

Then I began to think about how I felt before seeing Joe at the bar and having to start all over again, making me break eye contact with him. I was just starting to feel like I could continue on and build a new life without Joe, who I thought I would marry. Although on the way to the bar my thoughts were consumed by him and the fact that there was a possibility of seeing him, I was confident in the fact that once I got there and didn’t see Joe, that I would be able to have fun, but then I saw him, and my thoughts were flooded with what he said to me during the break up and all of the good times we had together.

Even now, sitting in front of him, all I can think about is the way his hair with his overgrown roots looks and how much I missed seeing him when I wake up. When, in the morning after staying over his house, he would wake up before me and go into the bathroom where I could see him get ready for practice. When he would spray his cologne all over himself that eventually made the whole room smell like him since he always made sure to spray extra since he knew I loved it, reminding me throughout the way that I just had a few more hours before he would come home. Why did he have to be at the bar tonight and then take me home? This shouldn’t be happening. None of it.

As I looked past Joe and thought about all of these things that were going through my head, out of the corner of my eye I could see Joe looking over at me, knowing I was thinking about everything that has happened. When I finally snapped out of it and looked up at him again while forcing a smile on my face, I could see that his brows were now furrowed and he looked extremely upset and guilty. “I am so sorry, for everything,” Joe finally spoke up, not being able to continue on without getting off whatever was on his chest, “for last night when we fought and walking up to you and for basically taking advantage of you. I didn’t mean to, all I was trying to do was keep you safe and make sure you got home okay, but I know I shouldn’t have.” Joe said.

“You don’t have to do this now.” I said and curled in my lips slightly, not expecting him to tell me all of this now. “I do. I don’t regret last night though, I did what I thought was right…what I do regret is ruining the only thing I was sure about in my life. You were the most constant and unconditional thing in my life and I ruined it. I pushed you away and I am so, so sorry.” Joe admitted to me. I sucked in a small breath as I felt tears form in my eyes, being thrown off by him telling me what was going through his head because usually he held things in until I pushed him to tell me. This, though, was all him. As he talked, his eyes also became glossed over with tears. “Why, Joe? Because I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why you would break up with me out of nowhere. One bad game and one little fight and we were just…over. We’ve survived way worse, y’know?” I told him, tears streaming down my face.

I quickly reached up and wiped them away with the back of my hand before placing my hands in my lap again. Joe just shook his head and let out a long sigh, looking at the ground. “It’s not going to give you any closure.” Joe said and then drug his eyes up to meet mine, tears now streaming down his rosy cheeks. “Joe. Tell me the truth.” I said, needing him to tell me why he ended things the way he did; so abruptly and suddenly, leaving me questioning everything. Joe hesitated before taking a deep breath and saying, “it was the day after the panthers game when I broke up with you. I mean that game was our first win of the season and people were calling me washed because I could only beat the panthers. The game before I put up 33 fucking points only to lose by 5 points because the defense couldn’t get their heads out of their asses, making us 0-3. I wasn’t doing good and I knew you knew that and only wanted to help me but I blew up on you anyways and said so many things that I didn’t mean and I regret it all. I know there’s no excuse for the way I acted, I know that, but I am sorry. I didn’t mean it when I told you I didn’t love you anymore and this may be selfish of me to say…but I still love you, with everything in me and more.”

I just sat there, listening intently to him, trying to digest what he was saying, all while trying to keep my composure and not break down right now. “Did you mean it when you said that the years we spent together were a mistake?” I asked him. Joe shook his head quickly and took a step closer to the island I was sitting at. “No, the years we spent together were the best years of my life. I felt like the luckiest man alive, please know that.” He said. I looked down at my hands as tears started to stream down my cheeks once again, but this time I didn’t wipe them away, I wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“You hurt me so much Joseph. It was so sudden and out of the blue…y-you made me question everything,” I said and slowly looked up at him, “do you get that?” Once we made eye contact and he could see how much I was hurting, his shoulders dropped and he put his hands on the counter, more tears now streaming down his face. The one thing that I loved about Joe was his ability to never hold back. Once he was able to talk about his feelings, he allowed himself to cry and feel his emotions. He didn’t hold back for the sake of looking and acting ‘masculine.’

“I know, I promise you I get that I hurt you so incredibly much and I am so, so sorry for that. If I could take it all back I would in a heartbeat.” Joe said. We both just held eye contact while taking in and processing what was said. I heard his apology and his reason why, but I truly didn’t know what to do. Was he trying to reconcile and go back to the way things were right now? I knew he didn’t want to let me go, but I didn’t know what the next step was. “So what’s next?” I asked him, breaking us out of our own thoughts. Joe sucked in a small breath after being torn from his thoughts and shrugged slightly. “I know I fucked up so extremely badly, but I still I know what I want, and that’s you…but I’ll respect whatever you choose.” He said. I could tell he was terrified for what I was about to say. Was I going to give him a second chance or kick him out and carry on with my life without him. Was he going to lose me forever?

“You don’t deserve a second chance, Joe. You broke my heart and a part of me hates you for it.” I said and watched Joe as all of the emotion left his face; any sliver of hope he was holding onto was all gone. I looked back down at my hands and started to pick at my nails when Joe said, “I know, you’re right and you should hate me…thank you for at least hearing me out though,” thinking it was all over. No matter how pissed off and hurt I was by his actions and ruining what we had, I couldn’t just leave it like this. My heart belonged to him no matter what. He was my first real love and I knew that if I tried to move on, I wouldn’t be able to. “I tried to hate you these past 2 weeks, I really did. But I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about you and how much I miss you and all of your weird fucking quirks…and I know I shouldn’t do this, but,” I said and looked up at him, “I have to give you a second chance, I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t.”

Joe let out a huge sigh as his eyes widened, shocked at my answer: that even though I shouldn’t, I was giving him a second chance. “Are you sure?” Joe asked me, excitement building in him some. All of the life was brought back into him and he started breathing heavily out of excitement and shock, not knowing if I was telling the truth. “Break my heart again and we’re done for good, do you hear me? I can’t go through that again Joseph Lee Burrow.” I said. “I promise that I will never do anything that hurts you ever again…now can you please call me Joey instead of my full name?” He said, and when I laughed, he too laughed.

“I’m serious.” I said, trying not to laugh while he walked around the island and made his way over to me. When Joe reached me, he stood in front of me as I sat down on the stool and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’m serious too.” Joe said in a serious tone, wanting me to fully understand the fact that he wasn’t going to hurt me again. “We need to communicate all the time Joe. Especially when you’re upset after a bad game because I know how much it affects you mentally. I’m always here and I’ll always do my best to help you.” I said. Slowly, Joe bent down some and reached in front of himself and cupped my face gently in his hands. With a sigh, I melted into his touch and closed my eyes for a few seconds, soaking in this feeling that I missed so incredibly much. “I will, I promise, and I know you’re always there to help me, that’s one of the reasons I love you so much.” He said.

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TMZ

Liked by user1, user2 and 969,944 others

TMZ Robert Pattinson is seen with far along pregnant girlfriend Suki Waterhouse only two months after split with Y/n L/n.

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user1 wtffff ????

user2 cheating on y/n and getting another girl pregnant is.... im speechless

user3 HUH

user4 i have no words omg... poor y/n

user5 no way he cheated on Y/N???😧

user6 a baby on the way is actually insane

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lakers

Liked by user1, user2 and 2,469,944 others

lakers The stars are out tonight for Lakers vs Warriors.

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user1 i kinda need all three...

user2 everyone is so hottt

user3 dream blunt rotation but im the blunt

user4 omg why is everyone so horny in the comments???

user5 y/n and joe!! love them

user6 lets so lakers 💜💛

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yourinstagram

Liked by joeyb_9, badbunnypr and 4,869,944 others

yourinstagram lakers in 5

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user1 lakers fan??? this diva

user2 she released a new song like a week ago and the first time she seen is at an nba game... not a serious bone in her body 😭

user3 joe burrow and bad bunny in the likes 👀

->user4 can you blame them?

user5 YOU are irreplaceable

user6 face tea, body tea damn damn damnnnn

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yourinstagram

Liked by joeyb_9, badbunnypr and 7,044,144 others

yourinstagram naughty girl release partyyyy

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user1 so naughty girl is about JOE BURROW???

lahjay10_ !!! liked by yourinstagram !

user2 the hair, the beat, the fit ATE DOWNNNN 10s

joeyb_9 😎✌ liked by yourinstagram !

user3 WAIT POSTING YOUR MAN ON MAIN?!!?!

user4 she's so cunty it's insane omgggg

user5 popstaring in ways that will be studied

user6 HOTTTT