#joe was so mean sometimes

[halfwayt0sanity]

Jello Biafra in an interview with Westword (2013)

[pharawee]

Okay. Phew. Usually I try to find at least one nice thing about a character because it's only fair that I try and see things from their perspective, right?

But the nicest thing I can possibly say about Ming is that I wish he'd ordain for a year or twenty so he can gain some metta. 🙏

[badnewswhatsleft]

Sorry to be stupid but which band did Joe almost get "sold" to?? (I was thinking about it for so long and couldn't figure it out)

omg LOL no anon you're not stupid i will freely admit that 1. it was not a very good joke on my part and 2. i was coming at it from a weird angle anyway😭 i was mostly thinking convolutedly ab like. joe in relation to 2010 the damned things :')

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

my biggest dissonance is how robert de niro in once upon a time in america actually looks like young carlo (but more handsome than carlo) but noodles character is nothing like him like max is a certifed carlo core. he would do everything max did

[i-find-the-beauty-in-chaos]

me whenever there's updates of You s5

[cementcornfield]

I could have been better on how I've been handling my business in my preseason. You know, I could lock in more on my details and, like I said, the things that I did wrong. But it's all about how you handle it you know, it's all about what it means to you. And I feel like I need to do a better job of showing how much this means to me.

[puterposting]

geez i was really going through it in 2022....

[frenchtwistresistance]

Match Game Syndicated Episode 262

Fannie, in a warbly, tear-streaked voice, to Pretty Girl Betty Kennedy:

I was just sitting here thinking: When I was young and pretty, I used to sit in that seat. I used to wear red dresses, get attention. Now I’m pushed down here. Pretty soon I’ll be in the audience.

Me, playing along at home: Girl, quit lying 😂. Number one, when you were in the Pretty Girl seat (for like three weeks before you were promoted to Weird Girl), never did you ever wear anything remotely sexy. Number two, thirty seconds ago the cameraman decided to shoot you just sitting there doing nothing so America could appreciate your perfect jawline and cheekbones. Number three, you are absolutely Match Game’s Mae West and not only do you very well know it but also nobody’s trying to make you forget it. 😂

[asexualjedi]

Hiding some to lay about some without my mask on. Before I must return to my family and wear a mask. Also fuck you WHO for that fucking dogshit “it’s not an emergency anymore it’s a crisis and you shouldn’t change any of your behavior” announcement bc now everyone’s like COVID’s over they said it’s not an emergency why are you wearing a mask.

[prlssprfctn]

AU, where Bruce accidentally gets de-aged (physically and mentally), and the first person he bumps in is... Red Hood.

To Jason's defence, he didn't connect the dots at first. He was just patrolling around his usual turf, thinking of nothing in particular, when he saw a small child in a ridiculously serious suit, sulking around Crime Alley. He looks distraught, and considering that he looks rich, it is no surprise - that is not a place for him. So, he is either lost or something happened, right?

He takes the helmet off, as he usually does when he is dealing with kids (they got scared easily) and carefully approaches a brooding baby.

'Hey, shrimp. Where are your parents at?'

That said shrimp turns around, his big blue eyes looking confused and lost, and Jason thinks he looks awfully familiar.

'I am not shrimp,' he protests instantly, pouting at him. 'And they are somewhere... here. We just left the movie theatre together!'

Jason glances at the abandoned movie theatre, back at the little rich boy with a familiar frown, and it clicks. This is his fucking dad. Suddenly, a kid - but it is fucking Bruce Wayne, for sure.

'Was watching Zorro by any chance?' Jason still asks, just to be sure that he is not going insane.

Bruce - and it must be him - beams at him.

'Yes! This is a great movie, by the way.'

Oh, hell. At least, he didn't witness his parents' death just yet. Jason wasn't sure he would be able to deal with his father being so small, and mourning his mom and dad. He would probably cry himself at some point.

'Hey,' Jason calls out for him slowly, squatting down; God, who would've thought that this little shrimp would become so tall and big in the future. 'Aren't you... You must be Thomas's kid, right?'

Okay, yeah, Jason is going to lie to this kid. Because there is no way he manages just to steal Bruce as a stranger to bring him back home; it is still a kid, even if it is his father. Right?

'You know my dad?' Bruce tilts his head, little fingers tugging on the hem of his jacket; suspicious.

'You could say that,' Jason nods. 'Alfie... I mean, Alfred called me. Asked me to pick up a kid, since Thomas and Martha got an urgent call.'

Fuck his life and stupid life choices. What the hell he was even doing? He looked like a mugger; or like a psycho. But Alfred was his best bet - he could call him, after all; ask, well, support his idiotic made-up story.

'No one calls Alfred Alfie but my dad,' Bruce pouts in a very, very spoiled manner.

'Well... I do. We served together in the army,' he blurts out.

His armour, apparently, is enough a proof for the kid to nod slowly.

'Okay. But you gotta take off your strange mask first,' Bruce folds arms on his chest.

...???

Did this kid just agree for an unknown man to take him home? Like this? Who could've thought that this pouty child would become the most paranoid man alive in the future?

'Uh, why?'

'So I can remember your face and do an identikit, if you turn out to be a bad guy,' Bruce smirks stupidly. 'Duh.'

Jason is going to cry. This kid is so cute.

'Yeah, duh,' Jason huffs, but despite his better judgment takes the domino mask off as well. 'Go on, take your time. My identikit should be the prettiest, shrimp.'

Bruce... gawks at him. His eyes are comically wide now, mouth open, and then, he jumps a little closer to him - oh, God, he is jumping when excited? - putting his hellishly cold hands on Jason's cheeks.

'Woah. You look like dad.'

'Uh,' Jason nods awkwardly, and because he is an idiot, adds a joke: 'We are brothers, actually. Just don't talk much.'

...Apparently, little Bruce can't take jokes. Because he lets out an adorable gasp, and throws himself on Jason as if they knew each other for ages now.

'Uncle? That's so cool. You look like Zorro!'

Damn this little kid, and this stupid family. Damn Joe Chill and the night he killed this kid's parents. Damn it all. Bruce might be an asshole sometimes, but he was so... cute and innocent.

'Thanks, shrimp,' Jason slides a domino mask back on, picks up little Bruce with one arm, and grips a helmet with another. 'Come on, let's go home. Alfred will make your favourite tiramisu.'

'You know my favourites?!'

Jason sniffles.

'Yeah. Yeah, I do, kid.'

If he gets so emotional over this kid, he has no idea how worse Dick is going to be once he finds out.

Oh, this is going to be one hell of a night.

[l-na]

foodstamps themselves are BASED, especially if you live in california. pls update your misconceptions about them, theyre not limited like they used to be! almost any grocery store outside of specialty stores uses EBT including fancyass places like wholefoods. some specialty stores do, but you have to ask before you go. i found out hmart takes EBT and its great, i get specialty korean groceries for free.

theres very few things you cant get. alcohol and hot food, but the hot food one is kinda fuzzy, sometimes things count and other times they dont. you kinda have to find out by buying it and seeing if it takes your card.

you CAN get snacks and chips and junk food, ice cream, desserts, ive gotten a whole ham, tri tip, a wholeass prime rib, etc.

if youre unemployed and disabled GET ON EBT NOW especially if youre in a richer state because you will have so much ebt that you will have extra and no idea what to do with it except treat yourself. i eat at trader joes and whole foods and hmart every month without running out of money most of the time. i am by no means living in luxury otherwise, but my food situation is GREAT and i live a little in excess ngl im grocery spoiled. theres a chance you too could get this.

dont delay. get on food stamps. NOW!

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

[cementcornfield]

I think reporters love to ask Ja’Marr about Joe not just because they’re supposedly close, but also because Ja’Marr 1. feeds into their leading questions (“are you Joe’s biggest fan”) and 2. he says the most absolutely batshit insane shit and writes it off as nbd. I’m sure it also helps that Joe is so avoidant and Ja’Marr is all too eager to please.

ja'marr is definitely a gift to reporters who want to go viral lmao. i love how candid he is in his interviews. i hope the PR team never trains it out of him 😤

[joeyfranchise]

is it casual now?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: what joe wants to call casual feels like everything for you. what happens when you get tired of it?

warnings: lots of angst, smut 18+ (oral, f. receiving) minors please dni.

word count: 2.7k.

note: it’s been a long time since i wrote a songfic like this ahhh!!! obviously bold italicized lines are the lyrics 🥹 based on this request!!

my friends call me a loser, ‘cause i’m still hanging around

i’ve heard so many rumors that i’m just a girl that you bang on your couch… 

“seriously, y/n,” your best friend huffed, taking a long sip of the wine she was holding before placing her glass on the coffee table. “this is loser behavior. he told all of his friends and my boyfriend that you weren’t even dating. he said it’s nothing serious and that you sleep together sometimes.” 

she emphasized the last word with air quotations, really stamping her foot into the point. “you deserve better than a guy who refuses to acknowledge that you’re his girlfriend.” 

she was right, and you knew it. what joe wanted to keep casual felt like it was blossoming into everything for you, it was hard to wrap your mind around. he kissed you, caressed you, loved you like no other behind closed doors… but any time you were out he refused to put a label on things… even though it felt like more than just friends to you. you couldn’t look her in the eye as she spoke to you about it… you felt shameful. 

she preached that you deserved better, and you knew you did. you just couldn’t figure out what or who was better than joe burrow.

i thought you thought of me better, someone you couldn’t lose… you said,  “we’re not together” so now when we kiss, i have anger issues… 

joe’s hand wrapped around your bicep to pull you back toward him as you attempted to storm off. your face was red, tears threatened to pour from your eyes and down your heated cheeks. 

“let. me. go,” you spat through gritted teeth.

“baby, come on. it’s not that serious,” joe mumbled, his tone surprisingly even. “i mean, we’re not together. i haven’t asked you to be my girlfriend yet. that’s all i meant, okay?” 

you knew he was lying. he was covering his ass like he always did, doing everything he could to keep you under his thumb, to make sure you were right where he needed you to be when he wanted you. you felt weak. you couldn’t resist him or the feelings he gave you. he played with your heart and you let it happen. 

you relented, unsquaring your shoulders and letting your jaw relax. “okay,” you choked out, still on the verge of crying. joe’s hand caressed your cheek and jaw softly as he pulled you into him, leaning in close to press his forehead against yours before softly touching his lips to your own. anger bubbled in your stomach, heat raging at the audacity of this moment. you had the fleeting thought to bite down on his lip, or to kick him right in the balls and run away… until he began really kissing you with a fervor. his tongue slid over your bottom lip slowly and you parted your lips for him, once again giving in to his tricks.

but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out, is it casual now? 

darkness loomed over the parking garage as joe hurriedly led you to the car, eager to have his mouth all over you. hushed giggles fell from your lips as he stopped suddenly, pressing you against the cold concrete wall to connect his lips to yours, to trace the warm pads of his fingers over your chilled skin that was littered with gooseflesh. 

the night air was crisp, a stark contrast to the heat that was coming in waves over your body, that was the effect joe had on you. all night long he’d been watching you with those baby blues, those bedroom eyes you couldn’t resist. his fingertips had grazed your skin one, two, three times, the calloused pads lingering a bit too long. it had been obvious all night what he’d wanted. you. 

he wanted to break you out of this event early, to take you home and have you writhing beneath his touch. once the opportunity finally presented itself he grabbed your wrist and led you out into the night, right to this moment. 

your fingers tangled in his hair as your tongues danced, his grip moving to your waist to give you a gentle squeeze. just as quickly as he’d pressed you to the wall he pulled you from it, once again leading you toward his car. the lights of the parking garage were dim, they flickered above you as joe dragged you along, but they still illuminated his features like he was the brightest star you’d ever seen. 

you wondered how he saw you. in moments like this, it was hard to tell how he truly felt about you. you tried to push that aside, to bask in this moment for as long as you could. 

you finally reached the car and joe led you to the passenger side. he dropped your hand as he pulled the handle, and you threw him a look of confusion as he leaned in and grabbed the lever under the seat, pushing it back as far as it could go. he motioned for you to get in and you did warily, still unsure of what he was doing. 

he climbed in after you, all 6’4 of him, and crammed his body into the footwell of the passenger side, kneeling before you. “joe?” you asked cautiously, afraid of what the mysterious glint in his eye entailed. he was on his knees before you, his face inches from your thighs. his hands came up to caress them, to drag along your skin as he slid your dress up, all the way past your ass until it rested at your stomach. 

“couldn’t wait ‘til we were home, i need to taste you now,” he said softly, a hint of arousal laced through his tone. he helped you spread your legs the best you could in the cramped space, bringing your left leg up and bending it at the knee before pushing it over the gear shift so it could rest in the driver’s seat.

the windows were tinted, barely allowing anyone to see through, but you were exhilarated at the thought of a passerby seeing what was about to happen in the front seat of this car. joe wasn’t able to slide your panties off in the cramped space, but he didn’t mind. he grabbed your right hand and led your fingers down to your already soaked core, looping your fingers through the material so you could pull them aside for him, hold them there as his lips took you apart. 

the first stroke of his tongue over your sensitive nub had you slamming your head against the headrest, arching forward as far as you could in your seat. joe chuckled softly against your core before swirling his tongue over your sensitive clit. 

he licked at you eagerly, pressing his face as far into you as he could. your free hand flexed against the middle console, in need of something to grab onto. you reached down and laced your fingers through his hair, pulling it at the root as he let out a throaty groan, straight into your core. you were gasping for air as he took you apart, unwinding all your threads like you were a tapestry that he intended to ruin so perfectly.

as he continued his ministrations, the thoughts came back to you. as his mouth worked you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure, your thoughts still lingered. how is this casual for him? 

the way he was so eager to be all over you, how his gaze lingered on you all night… how did this not mean the same for him as it did for you? 

your thoughts were cut short as you felt him slide two fingers into your wet heat, stretching you out with a soft squelch. his digits moved inside of you quickly, pressing against your spongy walls as his tongue and lips still sucked and licked at your clit. 

you were teetering on the edge of release, pleasure was coursing through your veins. sweat dripped down your chest, your hair stuck to the back of your neck. joe knew you were close, he knew every single time what his actions did to you, exactly how to get you there. with just one more curl of his fingers, one more expert stroke of his tongue over your sensitive bud you were coming for him, your body convulsing in the tight space. 

joe pulled back as far as he could and the sight of him was enough to get you ready for another round immediately. his hair was messy, his face was covered in your slick and his eyes were blown wide. he smirked at you before pulling the passenger door open, not caring if anyone else was outside the car. he didn’t care who saw him crawl out, or what they’d see if they looked in, which was you still spread open, still holding your panties to the side with everything on display. 

he toppled out of the car and quickly shut your door before strutting around to the drivers side. you let go of your panties and fixed your dress before sliding the seat back up to where you liked it, and joe started the car, backing out of the parking spot recklessly. he sped out into the road headed for his home, the place where he’d continue to pick you apart all night, where he’d have you screaming his name in no time. 

it’s hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser… and i try to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space… 

you pushed the heels of your palms into your closed eyes as hard as you could, hoping it’d help alleviate the pressure built up in your head from crying. you sat on the floor in the hallway of joe’s house, right outside his bedroom. he was inside the room, sitting on his bed, scrolling his phone. 

he didn’t know you were crying, he thought you’d left the room just to grab something, but as soon as you crossed the threshold and closed the door behind you, all hell broke loose. 

the emotions you’d been trying to hold back for so long finally bubbled over and you gave in to them, your legs weakly giving out beneath you as your body toppled to the floor.

the straw that broke the camel's back happened just minutes ago as you were rifling through his dresser looking for something to wear. in the top drawer next to his underwear and socks sat your favorite bra, a few pairs of your underwear and some of your socks.

in his bathroom your toothbrush was in the cubby next to his, along with your favorite shampoo and bodywash placed neatly next to his in the shower. you were even reminded of one of your favorite mugs, downstairs in the kitchen cabinet that lived next to his favorite one.

your water cup sat on the bedside table next to your lipgloss, the book you were currently reading rested beside it. all this, and still, he refused to make you his. he refused to put a label on everything. 

you sniffled as you cried, the thoughts taking over your mind as you sat slouched on the floor. you heard the door click and you looked up as it opened, seeing joe’s large frame standing before you. 

“you good?” he asked, crouching down so he was eye-level with you. you let out a laugh at his question, tears still streaking down your face. 

“am i good? what kind of question is that, joe?” 

he threw his hands up in surrender, raising his eyebrows at you. “well tell me what’s up, then,” he prodded. “you’re what’s up!” you yelled, your voice high pitched with frustration. 

“the fuck did i do? you were just fine,” he argued, his stance becoming defensive. “i was, until i noticed how much of my shit lives in your home. until i noticed that all i ever want to do is be around you. i was fine until i realized that i want you so much, and you refuse to make me yours. you refuse to make this official. you don’t want me how i want you,” you cried, your voice cracking at the end. 

guilt painted his features, and you knew in that moment you were right. you knew this wasn’t as serious for him as it was for you, and that stung. it left a hole deep in your chest. 

the man who had just held you close the night before as you cried about your favorite movie, the man who’d woken you up this morning with an iced chai from your favorite cafe, the man who’d just brought you to the brink of pleasure that was almost unimaginable not even an hour ago… he didn’t want you back. 

“sorry, joe,” you sniffled again, wiping the tears and snot from your face. “i’m gonna go.”

you gathered yourself, standing from the floor and heading back into his room. joe stayed crouched in the hallway, running a hand over his face as he heard you gathering your things, messily shoving them into your bag. he knew it wouldn’t all fit, but he didn’t dare offer you another bag or help you.

he didn’t even want you to leave, but he didn’t know how to tell you that. he stood and walked into the room behind you, opening his mouth to finally speak in a weak attempt to get you to stay. 

“y/n, baby, please i’m sorry, i—,” he began, but you turned quickly and faced him with a stern look. 

“no more excuses, burrow,” you shot back, “i can’t keep pretending to be the chill girl anymore. i can’t act like this isn’t ripping me apart. that isn’t me.”

you grabbed your phone and keys off the top of his dresser and rushed out of his room, the tears already streaming down your face again. you grabbed your mug from the kitchen and tucked it under your arm as you ran for the front door. you could hear him following after you but you didn’t care, you had to go. you quickly jumped into your car, cranking the engine and listening as it roared to life. you clicked your seatbelt, put the car in reverse, and backed out, headed toward your home… you hoped to never look back. 

i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself… i hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell… 

it’d been a week since you stormed out of joe’s place, a week you’d spent wallowing in self pity and sadness. you made the choice to walk out, you aided him in breaking your own heart. 

the anger and rage continued to bubble up inside of you. you hated him. you hated yourself. every time you looked in the mirror you saw spots where his lips had ghosted over your skin, where his touches had burned into your flesh. it made you sick. 

you had to move on from this, from him. you slowly rolled out of bed, headed for the kitchen with the intention of making yourself a hot cup of coffee. you avoided the mug that had been at his place, even though it was your favorite. it hurt to think maybe he’d used it while you were away, that his lips had tarnished that porcelain you’d grown to love. 

you popped a coffee pod into your machine, settling on a plain white mug that you placed under the spout. you washed your hands as you waited, then picked up your phone to check your messages. 

you rolled your eyes and puffed out a harsh laugh when you saw the first one… from joe. 

joey b: can we talk?

a simple message, one that deserved no answer. your heart was hardened, you had nothing to talk about. you couldn’t hear any more excuses from him. you were done, you needed to move on. you typed a response back and hit send, closing the chapter of your relationship with him using three sharp words.

you: go to hell. 

photos and dividers used are not mine, all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid

disclaimer: i know this song is about a wlw relationship, i am just fulfilling a request. as a member of the lgbtqia+ community i would never strip an artist or their work of their identity to fit any different narrative. i am simply writing something someone asked me to write. 💗

[goldfades]

the boys might have a crush on wifey… but I just KNOW some of those football moms are throwing themselves at Joe… and wifey has to remind them he’s take

you weren’t blind.

you saw the way some of the football moms looked at joe. how their eyes lingered just a little too long when he walked by, how their smiles got just a little too bright when they talked to him. how some of them suddenly became way more interested in their sons’ football practices the moment joe started coaching.

at first, you brushed it off. joe was a handsome man, it wasn’t exactly news to you. of course people would find him attractive. it didn’t bother you, because at the end of the day, he was yours.

but then it got annoying.

the first time you really noticed it was after a game, when you were standing off to the side, watching joe talk to one of the other dads. you were waiting for him to finish up so you could all head home, when she walked up.

aubrey.

you knew her. not well, but enough. her son was on the team, she was divorced, and she was too friendly for your liking.

“oh, coach burrow!” her voice was sugary sweet, her hand reaching out to lightly touch his arm. joe, oblivious as ever, just gave her a polite smile.

“hey, aubrey. good game today.”

she laughed, flipping her hair. “i was just telling some of the other moms that we so appreciate you taking the time to coach. i mean, you must be so busy, and yet, here you are. dedicated. it’s really… admirable.”

your eyes narrowed.

joe, bless him, just shrugged. “yeah, well, anything for the kids.”

aubrey tilted her head, her fingers still resting on his arm. “and how is it that you don’t get overwhelmed? juggling the nfl, coaching, being a father… you must have someone at home helping you out.”

joe finally took a step back, subtly putting some distance between them. “yeah, my wife’s incredible.”

you almost grinned at the way aubrey’s face twitched.

“oh. of course.” she fake laughed, brushing it off. “well, if you ever need a little break, some of us moms were thinking about throwing a little appreciation dinner for you. something small. casual. maybe at my place.”

okay. that was enough.

you stepped forward, looping your arm through joe’s and plastering on your sweetest smile.

“oh, that’s so sweet, aubrey, but trust me—joe gets plenty of appreciation at home.”

joe glanced at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. aubrey, for her part, looked like she wanted to sink into the ground.

“oh! i—i didn’t mean anything by it,” she stammered. “just wanted to show our gratitude.”

you squeezed joe’s arm, leaning into him just a little. “oh, i know exactly what you meant.”

her face turned red, and she quickly mumbled something about needing to find her son before scurrying away.

joe finally let out a laugh, looking down at you. “you didn’t have to do all that.”

“oh, i absolutely did,” you said, tilting your head up at him. “unless you wanted to go to aubrey’s for a little appreciation.”

joe grimaced. “god, no.”

you smirked, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “good answer, coach.”

it didn’t stop there.

there were always looks, always too-friendly smiles and light touches whenever you weren’t around. you’d catch glimpses of it every now and then, and it never failed to irritate you.

joe, to his credit, never entertained it. most of the time, he didn’t even notice it. but you did.

so sometimes, you had to make a point.

you’d show up to practice in one of joe’s hoodies, the sleeves swallowing your hands as you sipped your coffee, making sure the entire sideline of moms saw the gold band on your finger when you waved at joe.

or you’d bring snacks for the kids and make sure to kiss joe right in front of everyone before handing him a water bottle, your fingers brushing against his wedding ring.

sometimes, if you were feeling particularly petty, you’d sit right next to the moms who always stared a little too long, lean back in your chair, and say something like, “god, my husband’s so hot.” just to watch them squirm.

it was funny to you.

but the best moment was when another mom, katie, jokingly said, “coach burrow, you should hold a football clinic just for the moms. you know, show us some drills.”

joe, looking genuinely confused, just went, “uh, i think that’d be kind of weird.”

before katie could say anything, you immediately jumped in. “oh, joe’s not available for private lessons, but i’d love to teach you a thing or two.”

katie blinked. “…oh.”

joe choked on his water.

you just smiled sweetly. “anytime, katie. just let me know.”

later that night, when you were curled up in bed, joe wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “you really don’t have to do all that, you know.”

you shrugged. “i know. but it’s fun.”

joe laughed, shaking his head. “god, i love you.”

you smirked, tilting your chin up. “i know. i’m so lovable.”

joe pressed a kiss to your temple. “so, so lovable.”

[starsinthesky5]

I think about this more than a healthy amount for some reason, so I gotta get it out there.

Joe really doesn’t like being called “Joey”. It’s just a childhood name that he feels he’s grown out of. BUT I think he’d have such a soft spot for his girl calling him Joey 🥹 maybe it catches him off guard the first time she lets it slip, but he likes it a lot more than he thought he would. And from then on he only wants to be her Joey and he gets all pouty when she just calls him Joe.

Soft cuddly little Joey bear is my favorite (grumpy irritated Joe is a very close second)

say it, please || joe burrow x reader

description: the ask pretty much sums it up!!

a/n: wow? another blurb? who am i?? this might be how i get back on track with YBWM and I'm not complaining!! again, rushed, written in a few hours, so please don't tell me if you hate it

word count: 1.9 k

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff

taglist: (ask to be added): @joeyfranchise @joeyb1989 @joeyburrrow @softburrow @burrowbarbie @yelenasbraid @lovelyburrow @yelenasbraid @starkeyswomen @grittysbiggestfan @definitelynotdomanique @lilfreakjez @fourburrow

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oh joe absolutely despises it when people call him joey. no matter who it is, his mom, his dad, his closest childhood friends, even his nana. he just hates it. he’d complain about how it was too “babyish” and “embarrassing”, and that joe was more adult and manly. joey didn’t fit that stone-cold, joe cool persona he had going on…joey was more like “oh, here’s our soft, cuddly, teddy bear QB1” and he grimaced every time he thought about it. 

until you came around.

you knew that he didn’t like the cute little nickname, it was one of the first things robin had warned you about when you had your first one-on-one talk with her. you never really understood why he hated it, because his reasoning seemed pretty dumb. it was just a nickname, right? and it perfectly matched how he’d get when he had those adorable puppy dog eyes and rosy cheeks. it was just so right. 

but you loved joe, so naturally you respected his wishes just as he respected yours. you dropped the idea of the nickname and carried on. 

until one lazy sunday afternoon in the middle of february. 

you were doing your best attempt at shielding yourself from the bitter winter cold, curled up on the couch with your oversized plush bengals blanket and wearing one of joe’s old LSU hoodies. in your lap was your tablet, and the app opened up was your sketchpad. you worked in graphic design, so you were naturally always found with your apple pencil between your fingers and with this app on the screen in front of you. the latest project you had was not the usual kind—this one was a favor called in by a local cafe, a hidden gem in the heart of the queen city which happened to be one of joe’s favorite spots since he came to cincy. it was quiet, hidden, intimate, and the perfect spot to have a normal conversation with normal people; just how joe liked it. so when he had leisurely strolled into the cafe as usual one day after practice, he found himself caught up in a conversation with the owner (more so his newest best friend considering he went to the cafe every single day after practice) and the topic at hand was their recent obsessions. it was silly, but it was a good conversation to have over smoothies & muffins after a grueling day as star quarterback joe burrow. sometimes he just wanted to be joe again, especially with his friends, and this cafe was a great place to do so. 

anyway, for steve, his obsession was the latest addition to his cafe. a shiny new espresso machine with too many settings and advancements to count. 

for joe, it honestly should’ve been obvious to anyone with working eyes considering every time he thought about it out loud or in his mind—which was a lot—his cheeks turned pink and his eyes softened like he was a stick of melting butter. there was only one thing that could make joe feel and look like that, and everyone in town knew what it was. i mean, it was the hottest topic once you showed up on the sidelines wearing that initial around your neck before the wild card game against the ravens. 

his recent obsession was none other than his lovely, adorable, larger than life…future wife. 

his precious girlfriend.

you. 

he was going on and on about you with that goofy boyish smile to the point where steve was questioning if joe was drunk, high, delirious, or all of the above and just deeply unwell. and honestly, he was. 

he was completely, totally, and utterly lovesick. 

joe rambled on about anything and everything related to you. from your unique hobbies like forging & pressing flowers into journals and resin molds, to your interests that didn’t involve sitting in the stands and cursing out referees for bullshit penalties, and even your cute little habits such as spraying joe’s cologne on your hoodies while he was at an away game so that you could still be close to him. he just loved to talk about you, to tell people how you and everything about you had been such a breath of fresh air in his suffocating life. you were the change of pace he so desperately needed, and he was going to make sure the entire world knew of that. 

then, he started telling steve about your passion for graphic design. you worked full-time at a PR firm for it, but that didn’t stop you from dabbling into side projects in which you had complete control. you’ve designed things like wedding invitations, baby announcements, birthday cards, and even a few shirt designs for your old high school. you were extremely talented, so obviously he’d show you off in that sense too. he loved how hardworking, independent, and creative you were.

that conversation joe had with steve was how you now ended up re-designing steve’s cafe’s logo for him. you really didn’t mind doing it, not that you could say no if you did mind anyway. you knew steve was joe’s friend so if you said no for a good reason, he’d understand, but if word got out that joe burrow’s girlfriend refused to help out a local cafe with something like this…whew. bad bad PR. so, it was a good thing that you loved designing and sketching in your free time because there was no reason for you to say no. everyone would be happy :)

as you twirled your pencil in your hand, gliding the tip along the screen to perfect the border of the design, you felt a weight press down on your shoulder—warm, soft, and familiar. 

joe. 

he really loved watching you do your thing, bonus points if he got to cuddle with you while you were doing your thing, so this was a natural place for him to be found now. you were completely focused on the task at hand, that you didn’t realize when he started talking to you. your ears picked up on bits and pieces of what he was saying, but most of it was drowned out by your own inner thoughts as you contemplated over which shade of green to use in the logo. 

“...so, is it okay if we order in from gloria’s tonight instead of going out in the storm?” he asked, his warm breath tickling your skin as he pushed himself further into the crook of your neck. he’d hide in there if he could, maybe even nestle himself inside your pocket to be as close to you as humanly possible. 

you heard him, and you thought you responded, but that must’ve been in your imagination because then you felt him gently poke your thigh to get your attention. “oh, hm?” you hummed, slightly tilting your head down to see him but keeping your gaze fixed on the screen in front of you. “...yeah, that’s fine joey,” you mumbled, not aware of what you were saying, and what name you just said. 

his heart stuttered in his chest, skipping a beat before picking up again, softer this time—like it was melting right into his ribs. that name, the one that usually made him cringe, that usually made him irritated, suddenly felt…warm. safe. like something sacred.  

because it came from you.  

you weren’t teasing him. you weren’t babying him. you just said it, all soft and dreamy, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like it belonged to him, to you—to both of you.  

joe blinked, his lips parting slightly, his body no longer tense against you but loose, relaxed in a way he didn’t even know he could be. his fingers twitched against his lap, itching to reach for you, to pull you close, to hear you say it again.  

“yeah?” he murmured, voice quieter now, hesitant almost.  

you finally peeled your eyes away from the screen, meeting his gaze, and that’s when it really hit him. the warmth in your expression, the way your lips curled ever so slightly, the way you looked at him like he was your favorite person in the entire world.  

god.  

and from then on, he only wanted to be your joey.  not joe. not burrow. not anything else. just your joey.  

and he made it painfully obvious.  

the first time you called him just joe after that, it was like you stole the sun right out of his sky. his face fell so fast it was almost humorous—eyebrows knitted together, lips pressed into the softest little pout as he stared at you like you’d just broken his heart.  

“what?” you blinked, confused at his odd expression.  

he huffed, shifting closer to you on the couch, arms crossing over his chest in the most dramatic sulk you’d ever seen. “nothing,” he mumbled, but it was so very much something.  

you tilted your head, studying him, before realization hit you.”oh my god,” you gasped, a slow grin creeping onto your face. “are you pouting because i called you joe?”.

he stayed silent. just pouted harder.  

you laughed, reaching over to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his warm, slightly flushed cheeks. “baby, do you wanna be my little joey again?”.

his lashes fluttered, shoulders dropping as he leaned into your touch like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth. and then, so quiet, so needy, it almost made your heart burst—  

“say it, please.” 

your breath hitched.  

oh.  

his voice was barely above a whisper, but you could feel it—the weight of his words, the way he needed to hear it from you, how it felt different when it came from your lips. he didn’t just want the name. he wanted you saying it, holding it close like it was something precious. like he was something precious.  

you softened, pulling him impossibly closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then his temple, then the corner of his mouth. “okay, joey,” you whispered against his lips, the name dripping in warmth, in love, in everything he ever wanted to hear from you.  

he melted instantly, arms wrapping tight around your waist, his face nuzzling into your neck like he never wanted to leave. and god, he didn’t. he wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped up in you, basking in the way you said his name like it belonged to you and you alone.  

because it did.  

no one else could say it like you. no one else could make his chest ache in the best way, could make his heart stutter and swell all at once. no one else could make him love the name he once hated.  

only you.  

his girl. his love. his everything.  

your joey.  

only yours. always.

–the end–