#sappy and sad hours

[14buddy22]

It Won’t Be Like This For Long

WC: 3K // Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader 

AN::This is mainly Aaron Hotchner as a girl dad because the CM writers missed out on such a great opportunity. Also Haley and Jack DON’T EXIST in this story. Italics in the story are a foreshadow to when your daughter is older!

Aaron had come home from a long case. It was especially long because it was the first case away from his family. He was told multiple times that it was too soon for him to go back, but to know that he was catching killers and saving lives, just so he could make the world a better place for you and your daughter, he would never stop.

Your daughter was only two weeks old, it was really early for him to go back, but you could tell he was getting antsy. You don’t blame him one bit, he was good at what he did. He’d been so careful during your 9th month of pregnancy, he didn’t work one case from a different state, he stayed home, working from his home office.

When your daughter finally did make her arrival, it was the one day he had to go into the office for a meeting. You were best friends with Penelope, so Aaron told her to come sit with you while he had gone. He didn’t want you to be alone in case anything happened. You promised him nothing would and you could take care of yourself, but your baby had other plans.

When your water broke while making lunch with Garcia, you began to freak out a little bit. You were so good with kids, being a teacher allowed you to be good with them. You’ve never done this yourself though. You haven’t gotten pregnant before, you hadn’t gone through 9 months of pregnancy until now, you hadn’t given birth. You were told to be calm and collected, and that’s what you were going to be. You couldn’t freak out.

“Um, Penelope.”

You took a deep breath through the pain.

“It’s time to have a little Hotchner.”

Placing a hand on your stomach, you watched as Penelope began to turn off the stove, put ingredients back in the fridge, and started frantically running around the house to find your hospital bag.

When you got in the car, you began to call Aaron’s phone. When you were met with his voicemail, Penelope was already dialing Derek. Derek would kick down the door just to make sure Hotch got the news he had been so desperately been waiting for ever since he found out you were pregnant.

Just when you were checked into your hospital room, you were met with a frantic Aaron, all while you were calm and collected. Penelope had left to give you two the time you needed and she’d wait out in the waiting room with Derek.

After being in labor for only 5 hours, your little girl decided to make herself known in the world. While you had just given birth to a human, you couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of Aaron in awe of the doctor’s taking your little girl and cleaning her up. She had dark hair, matching Aaron’s for sure.

When your eyes finally met Aaron’s, you couldn’t help but reach up to him and wipe the tears that had fallen. He was a father, to a beautiful little girl. All the insecurities that he had and that you tried to push aside when he brought them up, shined in the moment right here, when your little girl was put into your arms.

He immediately cradled you in his arms, sitting next to you, looking at the beautiful piece of art that you and him had created. There was so much love pouring out from you and him and your girl would forever be loved.

“What do you think, Aar? Hannah Hotchner?”

“I love it. I love you, I love her. Thank you for making me a dad. I promise I’m going to be the best Dad that I can be.”

“I know you’re going to be an amazing Dad, Aaron. You already are.”

With another kiss between you two, you passed Hannah into his arms, letting him hold the little girl you know he’s been dying to hold. You fell in love with him even more. The way he held her in his arms. The way he whispered, “Hi Hannah, I’m your daddy. You’re always going to be my little girl. I promise I will not let anything happen to you or your mommy or any other siblings you may have in the future.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard your daughter crying from her nursery, only a few doors down the hall. You knew she just ate less than an hour ago and she would fall back asleep shortly after a few cries. It was the self soothing method that you got used to when you were in college working for a daycare center. You hated it at first, not being able to grab the babies when they were crying, but when you had 4-5 other babies all crying during nap time, it was easiest when they learned to self-soothe.

You felt the bed begin to move, Aaron was up. You wanted him to get sleep. You knew he hadn’t gotten much during this last case, which explains the texts that you randomly got in the middle of the night checking in on you and your daughter, Hannah.

His alarm was bound to go off in an hour, so you wanted to tell him that you’d get Hannah and he could try and lay back down. He had a lot of stress, you’d take care of your daughter.

You heard him start his morning coffee pot and he walked back into your shared bedroom. He began to splash water on his face.

You got up, meeting him in the bathroom. You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a kiss. You felt the tension of his muscles relax in your touch. You both listened to Hannah crying across the hall.

“It’s gonna be okay. It won’t be like this for long. One day, we’ll look back laughing at the week we brought her home. This phase is gonna fly by. Baby, just hold on.”

Aaron turned in your arms and whispered, “I love you. Can we go get our little girl?”

You nodded as he kissed you once more, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the nursery. He turned on the lamp and saw Hannah looking up and moving. He grabbed her from the crib and she snuggled into his shoulder.

“Daddy missed you so much, Han.”

**4 years later**

You don’t know what time it was, you just know that it was early enough to still be dark and early enough that Aaron wasn’t up and getting ready for work. You had heard the door open and saw the shadow of your oldest daughter with her favorite stuffed animal and she began to crawl into bed between you and Aaron. You looked at the clock and saw it was only 4:30am.

“Hannah, what’s wrong?”

You sat up a little bit and she said, “I want to sleep with you and Daddy.”

Aaron began to turn over when he heard the two of you whispering. He couldn’t deny that when Hannah was younger, he didn’t always listen to you when he was home alone with her and wouldn’t let her self-soothe. She had him wrapped around her finger.

“Want to sleep with Daddy?”

You rolled your eyes at him and laid back down. Hannah laid into her father’s arms and Aaron tried to pull you closer to him. When you saw the shadow of him holding your little girl, you couldn’t help but want to be cuddled up with them as well.

You didn’t blame Hannah for being a daddy’s girl. He gave her everything she wanted and more. He was never the “bad cop” in the good cop, bad cop scenario. He always played the bad cop at work, you figured he needed to be the good cop sometimes.

You knew it was only a matter of time before his alarm would be going off for work and your two year old daughter would be waking up to say goodbye to him. Your pregnancy hormones were also no match for whatever time it was. Once it hit 6 am, you were already craving food for the day. All the Hotchners would be awake at 6am, whether it’s to get breakfast, coffee, or say goodbye to their dad.

A few weeks later, you found Aaron up really early. You didn’t know why, didn’t hear the phone ring or an alarm go off, so you decided to go find him.

You were currently 8 months pregnant with your third kid, so getting out of bed was a process. When you finally did go and find him, you saw the nursery light on. Taking a peak into the room before barging in, you saw him looking through the photo albums of Hannah, and your youngest daughter, Grace. Hannah and Grace were a little over 2 years a part. Their sister bond forming immediately when they met each other for the first time.

“Honey, it’s 3 in the morning, what are you doing up?”

“I couldn’t sleep. It’s Hannah’s first day of preschool today and I just, I don’t want her to go. It means she’s growing up. Time needs to slow down.”

“Aaron, you know better than anyone that time doesn’t slow down, it sometimes feels as if it speeds up.”

“She’s my little girl. I know I still have Gracie, but Han’s, Hannah’s my first little girl, she’s the one who made me a father.”

Aaron closed the photo album and grabbed it, then walked over to grab your hand and pull you back into your bedroom. Flipping on the lamp, he pulled you down onto the chair you had in the corner of the room. That chair had great usage and for a variety of things, too. Some of your most intimate moments with Aaron happened right on that chair.

When he pulled you into his lap, he placed a hand over your bump and flipped open the album. Both of you watched as you flipped through your daughter’s life for the past 4 years. Many silly and goofy pictures taken of Hannah, and Hannah with Grace, and great photos of Hannah and Aaron and Hannah and you. You were so glad you captured these moments that you could look back on.

“I’m not ready for her to go to school yet. Can we keep her home today.”

“No, Aaron, we can’t. We have things to do today. It’s better for her to go anyway. Your little girl has to start school sometime, whether you’re ready or not.”

“It’s one day.”

“Yeah, why do you think I chose her to start school in the middle of the week? So I can actually go with you to make sure that you’ll actually drop her off. I have no meetings today, I have a substitute teacher today, I can actually take a day off from work without having to worry about too much to catch up on.”

“I wasn’t going to let her skip the first day.”

“Aaron Hotchner! Don’t you lie to me.”

You both began to laugh as he said, “Okay. Fine.”

“Let’s get back to bed. We’ll get up early, make the girls breakfast. They love when Daddy makes waffles.”

“Then I can enjoy breakfast with my three favorite girls and baby #3.”

You kissed him once more and then he helped you get up. Once back into bed, you cuddled up with him and fell asleep. You were trying to wait for him to fall asleep first, but you were exhausted.

As you had a nice family breakfast with Aaron and the kids, it was then that time to get Hannah to pre-school. You had dropped Gracie off at daycare first and then Aaron drove you to the school Hannah would spend the next 5 years before moving into junior high.

As you got out of the car, Hannah grabbed her backpack and took Aaron’s hand. As Aaron held her hand, he also held yours. You could tell he was holding in the tears. He wanted to break down, he wasn’t ready for his little girl to grow up.

As soon as Aaron let go of her hand, Hannah immediately clinged onto his leg.

“I don’t want to go Daddy. Let me stay home with you.”

Aaron knelt down, quickly giving her a hug and telling her that everything would be okay. He would see her in just a few hours. She gave him another hug and he wiped her tears. Leaving a kiss on her forehead, you also saw the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You placed your hand on his back, signaling to him that it was time for her to get going to school.

As he stood up, she held onto his leg even more. You peeled Hannah from his leg and gave her a hug. Hannah waved at you and Aaron as the teacher grabbed Hannah’s hand.

“What can I do? So it’ll be easier for her?”

“Mr. Hotchner, don’t you worry, it’ll only last a week or two. It won’t be like this for long. One day soon you’ll drop her off and she won’t even know you’re gone. This phase is going to fly by.”

You grabbed Aaron’s hand as he nodded and you both thanked her teacher. You watched as Hannah walked into school. Then that’s when you saw Aaron break down. This big bad FBI agent who never showed emotion at work, finally broke down.

As you wiped a tear from his cheek, you made your way back to your car. You had a few things you two had to get done but you wanted to hold onto this moment for a few more minutes before life continued on.

It was only a few weeks later that your 3rd baby was born, Aaron finally got his son. He was such a great girl dad, but you were glad you were able to have a boy. Both his girls could be princesses, but they weren’t afraid to get dirt on their hands either.

As you were laying in bed, trying to get some sleep after feeding your son, Nicholas, you then heard crying coming from down the hall. When you started to move, Aaron rolled over and kissed your head saying, “Get some sleep, I’ll take care of Hannah.”

“Thank you, Aaron.”

Aaron walked into Hannah’s room to find her sitting up and crying.

“What’s going on, Han?”

“Daddy, I heard a noise and it came from my closet. There might be a monster.”

“Daddy will check, I’m not going to let a monster hurt you.”

As Aaron carefully opened the closet, he saw a box had fallen down. Quickly picking it up and showing Hannah that it was just a box from one of her toys and that it was okay.

As Hannah had gone to use the bathroom and grab a drink of water, he couldn’t help that life was going fast, and that someday soon she’ll be a teenager. There won’t be this need for him anymore, no checking closets for scary monsters. He was soaking it all in. But he couldn’t help but think of Hannah as she was older.

“Dad! You’re so unfair! How come Gracie gets to go hangout with her friends but you’re keeping me hostage! Hello! Can I get the hostage hotline?”

“I’m not unfair, Grace hasn’t been drinking with her friend or sneaking out to her boyfriend’s house!”

“The only reason I’m sneaking out is because you lock me in a god damn tower 24/7.”

“Well, not really because I still let you hangout with some friends.”

She groaned at him and rolled her eyes. As she stomped up to her room and slammed her door, you couldn’t help but look at Aaron.

“Aaron, Hannah’s a good kid. She does well in school, her boyfriend treats her great.”

“She probably hates me, but that’s my little girl. I’m not going to just let her go hangout at her boyfriend’s house, who is 2 years older by the way.”

“Aaron, they’ve been best friends since she was in 3rd grade. We know his family. He grew up in our neighborhood, they played on the same soccer team since we always had her playing up.”

“I know you’re right, but it feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital and sending her off to preschool. Now she’s got a boyfriend. I don’t care who he is, no guy will ever be good enough for my little girl.”

**5 years later**

While Hannah didn’t date her best friend for much longer when they went to different colleges, she did find someone who was great, if not better for her than her first boyfriend was, and it took Aaron only a few times to recognize that.

When Hannah’s boyfriend showed up to the house, asking Aaron for Hannah’s hand in marriage, it only made him think back to the little girl he brought home as a newborn, who would cry and have him worrying 24/7.

She’s turned into a beautiful young woman, one who was smart as well and knew that her boyfriend was good for her. He was the perfect man in her eyes, he shared a lot of morals that her father had and for that, she was grateful she had such an amazing father to look up to and set standards for her boyfriend.

It wasn’t long before he was walking her down the aisle and raising her veil, giving his little girl away to the love of her life, a good man. As long as his little girl was happy, he was happy.

When Hannah got into bed, sniffles coming from her, in which he didn’t mind that it was only 4am, and he’d have to be up in an hour for work, he kissed her goodnight. He laid down beside her until her eyes were finally closed, just watching her it broke his heart because he already knows, it won’t be like this for long.

One day soon his little girl was going to be all grown up and gone. He knows the phase is going to fly by, so he’s trying to hold on. He knows it won’t be like this for long.

[mintaikk]

I literally get so sad when I look at my Grandma's dog bcuz he's just- so easy to abuse. And he WAS. He was neglected on the farm he grew up in, he was neglected in his first couple of homes, he was neglected and abused by my aunt and now gets scared when anybody swears and when he hears a loud sound.

But he's still so incredible loving and trusting with people. Like, he loves cuddling and he loves playing and he'll happy wag his tail when someone walks into a room and he'll sleepily lay down on your stomach when he's tired and he'll bring you toys when you're upset and he has complete trust in everyone and that makes me want to fucking cry.

HOW COULD YOU BE MEAN TO THIS THING???

[buffythevampirelover]

Mine

And though I call you mine, I know you will never belong to me. I could never grab your light, hold it steadily in my palms, no matter how hard I tried. Nor does anyone grab their God and pin it in place. Mine in the sense that I worship you; chest beating, always bleeding, bruised knees and all. I live for you, and with you always on my mind, always right beside me— or at least not far behind. You cannot capture someone else but you can carry and hold and caress the love you have for them. And that, too, shines bright. It burns your fingertips. It tastes sweet on your lips. It is fully yours, when your heart is not. When there is nothing else to hold.

[showtoonzfan]

Still not over the way Viv refuses to make Stella and Octavia their own fucking characters outside of Stolas. She’s so unfocused when it comes to them, we still have no IDEA what their relationship is like because Viv’s too focused on sucking up to Stolas and milking how Uwu sad he is. It’s so weird because despite Stella coming off as someone who acts like her daughter legit doesn’t exist and seems to not care for her, at the same time there’s clearly indications that she does. She takes Octavia away for the weekends, and that’s something she wouldn’t do if she didn’t care about her. If she didn’t care about Octavia at all, she would probably leave her at the house with Stolas while she goes out and does whatever she wants. However at THIS point, I wouldn’t be surprised if the writers wanted Stella to take Octavia away as an excuse for more cheap drama. Who knows, maybe Stella just does it so she can torment Stolas more, taking his daughter away and rubbing it in his face, because she’s SUCH a nuanced character with a complex motivation guys!

Then there’s the “No I’m not turning her against you!”- line from Stolas from over the phone, responding to Stella. Viv…..Adam…..Brandon….pick ONE. Does Stella care about her daughter or not? Because these writers clearly can’t make up their minds and it shows. Is she someone who does not care what Octavia does and sees her as a useless speck, just an egg that slipped out of her and nothing more, is she someone who doesn’t care but wants to use her for pride and control against Stolas, or does she deep down…care about her, but is too blinded by her rage towards Stolas? Oh wait, she’s none of those because Stella clearly isn’t 2 or 3 dimensional. She’s a tool, she’s a pawn, the key to all of Stolas’s drama and the evil bad obstacle he has to face that is this fanfiction ass show. She’s the evil bad abuser who can’t let poor Uwu Stolas be happy. She’s the villain but not a character. I have the feeling Viv will eventually try to make her sympathetic or nuanced so she can flex about how good at writing she is and how deep her demon swear word show is, but even doing that won’t work because you’ve already shown to your audience that there’s nothing there. Like….she’s just a 1 dimensional evil tool and that’s it. There’s literally no saving Stella at this point because Viv has gone out of her way to portray her as a heartless bitch so…thanks for wasting a female character completely.

[prismaticpichu]

I love you peoples ❤️ Ty for making my online life better. Seriously.

That’s it. Just felt the need to say it. Have an amazing rest of your weekend <3

[the-kipsabian]

you know what i was gonna vent post but fuck it positivity moment instead cause whatever is inside of me thats making me sad it can be overruled by the people that still unconditionally love me and i know that and it means everything to me

[shesaidhello-hello]

i miss being in love

[kohakhearts]

last day of work for this semester and one of my students (keep in mind this is an two-month-long once-a-week weekend program lol) gave me a gift with a little tag that says “to taylor <3 the best teacher” and its very cute… completely blindsided me bc this kid hadn’t given any indication she Liked me (usually its not hard to tell but i guess its easier when you see them every day vs once a week) but it made my day. ik the 11-14 age range can be brutal for many but god they can be so sweet too

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[izloveshorses]

a year ago today i was on a plane to paris for the first time with a whole month-long solo trip ahead of me

[spaced-out-cosmos]

do you ever feel so much that you’re like choked up by it. like not even Bad Feelings they can be good feelings but they’re just all knotted up in your chest

[longlive2023]

.

[animazed]

.

[hitmesupersonic]

honestly i’ve had an awful week but then i saw my friends and it made everything so much better i love them <33

[v6quewrlds]

❝ infinity, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

��� ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: the bengals suffer a devastating loss against the eagles. it takes everything within you to face joe, hoping you'll be able to remind him of his worth.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: wrote this so fast as soon as the request came in. ty to anon for requesting <3 it's a little sad. i'm gonna be honest, part of me wanted to write an argument where the guy wasn't throwing shit and breaking stuff. the other stuff was secondary lmao. another installment to the joe is a munch agenda.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established but unlabeled relationship, sad!joey, he raises his voice but gets put right back in line, shower sex, kind of a pity fuck but we ball, romantic doggy style, cunnilingus, cum eating???, apologies as foreplay, sappy couple activities.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.9k.

The stadium lights shone like a beacon of hope in a sea of despair, as the final whistle blew and the crowd's roar faded into a disheartened murmur. The Cincinnati Bengals had lost to the Eagles in a game that had started out so promisingly. You felt the weight of the loss in the air, thick and palpable, as you sat in the Burrow family suite, your eyes locked on the field. You knew Joe wouldn't be coming up to join you with a victory smile tonight.

As the players trickled off the field, you hugged Robin and Jimmy goodbye, the tension etched in their faces mirroring the tension coiled in your chest. They whispered their sympathy and concern for their son's mood before heading out to face the gauntlet of traffic. Your gaze followed them, watching as they disappeared into the throng of fans, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for their escape. You knew Joe would be less than pleasant after a game like this, and you steeled yourself for the long night ahead.

The family reception area was a hum of disappointed chatter and forced smiles, but your eyes remained glued to the TV broadcasting Joe's post-game press conference. You saw the tightness in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, and the way he clenched his fists when asked about the second half's collapse. Your heart went out to him, and you hoped that once you were alone, he would let you in, let you help him bear the brunt of his emotions.

You couldn't bear to watch as Joe lifted himself from the press chair to retreat back to the locker room. You waited, sipping on a warm soda that had gone flat, feeling the condensation slip down your hand and pool at your fingertips. The other girlfriends and wives offered you words of support, but you knew their hands were full with their own distressed partners. You were on your own in this.

A delicate hand rested on your shoulder, and you turned to see the concerned face of Chase Brown's girlfriend, whose name you couldn't quite recall in the haze of the angsty loss. The shorter woman offered a small, understanding smile. "It's going to be okay," she murmured. "They’re all pros. They’ll bounce back." You nodded, mustering a smile of your own. But you knew it wasn't just the game weighing on Joe. It was the pressure, the expectations, and the unspoken fears that came with being at the top.

The minutes dragged on, turning into what felt like hours, before the locker room doors swung open and a parade of burly, ego-bruised men began to make their way out. They were a mix of anger and defeat, each one avoiding eye contact with the small group of women waiting patiently. Your eyes darted to each face, searching for the one you knew so well, the one that could bring you a semblance of peace in this chaotic aftermath. He remained elusive, a ghost in the shadows of his own misery.

Your heart hammered in your chest, lip nervously bitten raw as you watched the locker room door swing open and shut with the rhythm of the exiting players. Your eyes searched the crowd, locking with the weary eyes of the coaches who offered you a nod of sympathy. Each nod felt like a punch to the gut, reinforcing the gravity of Joe's mood. When the hallways grew quiet, you remained the sole family member standing. The emptiness of the reception area echoed the silence in your chest.

After several empty minutes that stretched on toward forever, a Bengals staff member approached you. "Ma'am," he said, his voice thick with understanding, "Joe requested that I bring you to the locker room." You nodded, swallowed the lump in your throat, and followed the man down the corridor. The air grew denser with each step, the scent of sweat and defeat growing stronger. When you reached the locker room, Joe was exactly where you had imagined he would be: slumped over his locker, staring into the abyss of his open duffle bag.

The moment your eyes met, you saw his shoulders tense and you knew he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. "You ready?" You asked, your voice soft and gentle. He didn't answer, just looked up at you with a mix of anger and defeat that made you want to wrap him in a warm embrace and whisk him away from all of this.

As you stepped closer, Joe stood up, and you could see the exhaustion etched into his features. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The harshness of his words stung, but you knew it was the pain talking. You took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The two of you walked side by side through the exit path of the stadium, the clack of your footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete walls. You tried to fill the silence with gentle inquiries, but Joe remained tight-lipped, his jaw set in a firm line of anger. His hand felt clammy in yours, a contrast to the warmth of his usual touch. When you reached the car, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle. He looked at you, his blue eyes stormy with unspoken emotions.

"Do you mind driving?" he asked, his tone a mix of apology and defeat. You nodded, understanding that he needed the time and space to process. You slid into the driver's seat, your eyes gently sweeping over his tired form as he slipped into the passenger seat. The engine purred to life, and you pulled out of the parking lot, steering the two of you homeward through the deserted Cincinnati streets.

The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the occasional hiss of the tires against the damp asphalt. Your thoughts raced, trying to find the right words to ease Joe's pain without triggering his already frayed nerves. You knew he was a man of few words, especially when he was hurt, but you had to try. "You played your heart out tonight, Joe," you said, your voice low and soothing. "The team will learn from this."

Joe's gaze remained fixed out the window, the streetlights casting shadows on his profile. "It's not just the game, babe," he finally said, his voice tight. "It's everything. The pressure, the criticism, the feeling that no matter what I do, it's never enough."

You squeezed his hand, your eyes never leaving the road. "You're more than enough, Joe," you said firmly. "They haven't given you much help since '22. It's a miracle you've taken them this far." Your words hung in the air, unanswered, but you could feel the tension in his body ease slightly.

Once you arrived home, Joe remained in the car, his hand still in yours. You waited, giving him the space he needed to gather himself. When he finally opened the door, you followed suit, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere in the car. As the two of you stepped into your quiet home, Joe's shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy sigh. You could feel the weight of his frustration, his eyes still holding the storm of his emotions.

Without a word, you led him into the living room, gesturing for him to sit on the plush couch. He sank into it, his eyes remained closed as you headed off towards the kitchen. You reached for one of the few beers stored in the fridge, figuring he could break his strict diet in the shadow of such a crushing loss. You handed him one, and as the cap twisted off, the sound echoed in the silence. He took a long pull, the tension in his throat bobbing with the effort of swallowing.

You sat down next to him, your hand resting on his knee, waiting patiently for him to speak. It was a dance you had done before, the aftermath of a tough game. The living room, usually a sanctuary of laughter and comfort, was now a battlefield of unspoken words and heavy sighs. The TV remained off, the only illumination coming from the moonlight that filtered through the blinds.

Finally, Joe opened his eyes, looking at you with a mix of anger and sadness. "We had them," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "We had the game in the bag and we let them take it." His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, for validation. You leaned in closer, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder.

"You did everything you could," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's not all on you."

Joe's eyes searched yours, looking for a sign of doubt, but your gaze was steadfast. You knew he was a man who took his losses hard, especially when it came to football. It was his sanctuary, his escape from the world, and when it crumbled around him, it was like watching a piece of him break.

He took another sip of his beer, his eyes focused on the floor "It's not just the game," he repeated. "It's the whispers, the doubt. Everyone's watching me, expecting me to be Superman, and when I'm not, they tear me apart." Your heart ached for him, knowing he felt like the world was on his shoulders.

"You're human, Joe," you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. "You're allowed to have a bad day."

Joe's gaze met yours, his eyes searching for solace in the depths of your warm brown irises. He knew you were right, but it didn't make the sting of defeat any less potent. He took another deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. "But that's the point. I didn't have a bad day. I haven't had a bad day since I fractured my wrist." His words were laced with frustration, and you could feel the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

You kept silent, watching as he stood up from the couch with a sudden jerk. "Dammit," he cursed, the bottle of beer clutched tightly in his hand. "I can't do this anymore." He began to pace, his long strides eating up the space in the room.

"Do what?" You asked, your voice calm and measured.

Joe's eyes flashed with anger, his pacing growing more agitated. "I can't keep carrying this team on my back," he said, his voice rising. "The front office, the coaches, they all expect miracles, and when I don't deliver because I have no help on the other end, it's like I've failed them." He stopped and turned to you, his expression desperate. "I'm tired of it."

Your heart ached with love for Joe. You knew the pressure he was under, knew the kind of man he was. A man who took every loss personally, who never blamed his teammates even when they deserved it. "You haven't failed, Joe," you said, your voice firm and unwavering. "You've done everything they've asked of you and more. You can't control everything out there on the field."

But Joe was on a roll, his emotions spilling out like a dam that had been holding back a flood for too long. "They expect me to be perfect, and when I'm not, it's like the world's ending," he continued, his voice rising with every word. "And what do I get for it? I get fuckin' thrown out there to face the press and tell them we're working on it, we're gonna fix it." He slammed the beer bottle down on the coffee table, the sound echoing through the room.

Your eyes widened at his outburst, the fear of his anger turning into something more volatile rising in your chest. But you remained calm, your voice a gentle reprieve from the storm raging inside Joe. "They're just doing their job," you offered. "They don't mean to put it all on you. You're just an easy target."

Joe scoffed, turning away from you. "Easy target? That's all I am to them. A face to put on the cover of the Bengals' shit show." His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

You stood, moving closer to him, your  hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Joe, you need to take a deep breath. You're working yourself up over this."

Joe spun around, his eyes flashing. "You don't get it!" he snapped, and you took a step back, your hand dropping to your side. It was a line the two of you had never crossed before, the sound of his raised voice a crushing reminder of the unspoken rule you had both agreed upon.

For a moment, the room was still, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside your windows. Then Joe's shoulders dropped, and the anger drained from his face, leaving only a tired, defeated man. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to yell."

"But you did," you said softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And that's not how we agreed to handle things." You didn't mean to be harsh, but you needed him to understand that his behavior had crossed a line. "I know you're upset, Joe. But I can't be your punching bag. I'm not the reason why you're angry."

Joe's took a deep breath, his chest deflating as he nodded slowly, regret etched on his face. "You're right. I'm sorry." He stepped closer, reaching for you, but you stepped back out of his grasp, needing a moment to collect yourself.

"I know you're hurt and frustrated, but that's not an excuse," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "I'm here for you, but I need you to talk to me, not at me."

Joe's gaze dropped to the floor, his eyes brimming with regret. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort to keep his emotions in check. "You're right," he murmured. "I'm sorry." He reached out to you again, this time with a softness that you recognized. You let out a sigh of relief, letting yourself be drawn into his embrace. He held you tight, his body trembling slightly with the weight of his apology.

"It's okay," you whispered, stroking his hair. "I know it's hard. And I'm sorry this is what you're dealing with."

Joe nodded into your embrace, his breaths slowly evening out.

"I'm going to take a shower, okay?" You said, pulling away from Joe's embrace. "I need a moment to think." You didn't wait for his response, heading upstairs to your bedroom. You could feel his eyes on your back, heavy with regret and sadness.

In the bathroom, you turned the shower knob, letting the hot water cascade over you. The steam filled the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, but it couldn't wash away the tension that clung to you like a second skin. You stepped under the spray, letting the water beat down on you, the sound of it a white noise that drowned out the world outside. You felt the tightness in your muscles begin to ease as the heat seeped into your bones.

Midway through your shower, the bathroom door creaked open. Your heart skipped a beat, expecting Joe to come in, apologize again, but instead, you felt his hands on your waist, his body pressing against yours. You tensed, ready to pull away, but when he whispered, "I'm sorry," into your ear, you melted into his touch. His warm skin settled against your wet skin, and you allowed yourself to be held, to be a source of comfort for him.

The water rained down on the two of you  as Joe's hands began to move over your body, his gentle touch soothing your nerves. His lips found the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly, and you closed your eyes, letting his apology wash over you. The loofah in his hand glided across your skin, scrubbing away the sweat and anxiety from the game, and with it, the tension of the evening.

"I'm sorry," Joe murmured again, his voice barely audible over the shower. "I shouldn't have snapped." His hands moved to your shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the taut muscles, trying to ease the knots of your frustration.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closed. "It's okay," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "We all have our moments." Joe's grip tightened, and you could feel his need to be closer, to erase the space between you.

"What did you think of the game?" Joe asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the confines of the shower. You could feel the tension in his body as he worked to scrub away the physical and emotional grime of the loss.

"You played hard, like you always do," you replied, your voice echoing off the tiles. "But the team's chemistry was off. On both sides of the ball." You knew Joe didn't need to hear about the interceptions or the fumbles, but rather, the underlying issues that had led to their defeat.

"Yeah, I could feel it," Joe mumbled, his voice tight with frustration. "It's like we forgot how to play as a team." You nodded, your eyes still closed as Joe's hands moved down your back, tracing the lines of your spine. "They're relying on you too much," you said, your voice firm. "You can't do everything on your own."

The loofah stilled for a moment, and you felt Joe's chest expand with a deep breath. Deciding to continue delivering your thoughts, you sighed and said, "The secondary needs to step up, and the coaches need to get their act together." The warmth of his hands resumed their gentle massage, a silent acknowledgment of your words.

"I know," Joe murmured, his voice thick with frustration. "It's just..." He trailed off, unable to find the words. You knew his thoughts well, the pressure of being a quarterback, the weight of a city's hopes and dreams on his shoulders.

When the two of you met, Joe was a 3rd string quarterback with no chance of touching a football during a game at Ohio State. You, a nutrition major, found his quiet confidence fascinating. As you grew closer, you saw the fiery competitiveness that fueled his ambition. When he told you he was transferring to Louisiana State with a real chance at being QB1, you knew it was a risk well worth taking. His meteoric rise to not only a National Championship but the Heisman and the first overall pick in the NFL Draft only proved the belief you had in him from the beginning. You weren't supposed to be here together, with Joe the face of an NFL franchise. But here you were, navigating the tumultuous waters of professional sports and superfame.

But tonight, as the hot water streamed over your bodies, the reality of your situation crashed down on Joe like a heavy wave. "I'm just tired of being the scapegoat," he whispered against your neck, his breath hot and urgent. "They expect me to be perfect, and when I'm not, it's all on me." Your heart broke a little more with each word, knowing he was right but hating that he felt that way.

"You're not a scapegoat, Joe," you said, turning in his arms to face him. "You're the best thing that's happened to this team in years." The sincerity in your eyes was unmistakable. "They just need to realize that you and Ja'Marr aren't enough to win games by yourselves."

Joe's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "I know," he said, his voice barely a murmur. "But it's hard not to feel like it sometimes." You nodded, understanding his pain. "Let's not talk about the game anymore," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "You need to relax."

He pulled you closer, his hands moving over your body with a new urgency, the tension in his muscles giving way to a different kind of need. You could feel his desire, his desperation to connect with you, to lose himself in something that wasn't football. You kissed him back, your own needs rising to the surface.

The loofah fell to the shower floor, forgotten, as your hands found each other's bodies, exploring and reassuring. The steam grew thicker, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of heat and wetness, the outside world fading away. You kissed with a passion that was both fiery and tender, your bodies moving in a silent dance of apology and understanding.

You felt Joe's hands move to your hips, pulling you closer, his arousal unmistakable against you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your own desire matching his, as you found solace in the intimacy of your shared space. The water washed away the tension of the game, your movements becoming more urgent, more primal.

"Take your frustrations out on me," you murmured against his ear, your breath hot and needy. Joe's response was to push you against the cool tiles, his hands roaming over your wet body, exploring every curve and crevice. He kissed you with a hunger that spoke volumes of his need for release.

Without hesitation, Joe's hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. You gasped, your eyes closing as sensations of pleasure shot through your body. His mouth moved from your neck to your chest, kissing and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. Your own hands were busy, sliding down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin, your nails digging in slightly as you urged him closer.

Your kisses grew deeper, more demanding, as the water continued to beat down on you. Your legs tightened around Joe's waist, pulling him closer, feeling his erection pressing against you. The sound of your bodies colliding against the tiles filled the small space, echoing off the walls. You were lost in each other, the pain of the loss momentarily forgotten.

Joe's hand slid down your body, finding the apex of your thighs. He teased you gently at first, his thumb brushing through your slick folds as you moaned into his mouth. Your hips rolled into his touch, seeking more. He groaned, his own desire spiking at your responsiveness.

With a swift move, Joe lifted you off the tiles, carrying you out of the shower, water still cascading off your bodies. He sat you on top of the bathroom counter, not caring about the wetness. His need for you was all-consuming, a fiery hunger that only you could satiate. You watched him with half-lidded eyes, your breaths coming in short pants as his hands slid over you, exploring every inch of your wet skin.

Your kisses grew more urgent as Joe's fingers delved into you, finding you already slick with desire. Your back arched, a keening cry escaping your lips as he touched you with a precision that spoke of a deep, intimate knowledge. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You could feel his own need, his cock pressing in between your spread thighs, demanding entry.

"Fuck me," you breathed, your voice a low, urgent plea as Joe's touch brought you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the tension in his body, the anger and frustration that had been building all night, now redirected into a passion that was as intense as it was raw. He didn't respond verbally, instead choosing to show you with his actions that he heard you. He slid into you with a smoothness that contrasted his desperation, filling you completely.

You each sighed at the feeling of Joe stretching your pussy open, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you shared, a bond that transcended the game, the expectations, the disappointments. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist as he began to move inside you. Each stroke was a declaration of his need, a silent apology for his earlier outburst, and a promise to be there for you.

Your bodies moved in rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping together mixing with your muffled moans and gasps. Your breath hitched as Joe's cock hit just the right spot, sending waves of pleasure through your core. You rocked your hips against him, urging him deeper, faster, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tugging at his dirty blonde hair. His gaze was intense as it held yours, the blue of his eyes almost black in the dim light, his pupils blown with desire.

Joe's mouth trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making you shiver with excitement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements, urging you closer to the edge. His own need was palpable, his breathing harsh and erratic as he thrust into you with a fervor that was both aggressive and tender.

"You're so wet," Joe growled, his voice thick with lust, as he pumped into you. You could feel his muscles tense with every thrust, the power behind each one a stark contrast to his gentle strokes from earlier. "So fucking wet for me."

Your nails dug into his back, urging him on. "Yes, Joey," you moaned. "Take it out on me." Your words were a catalyst, pushing him past his limits. He slammed into you, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the bathroom.

Your eyes never left each other as Joe's pace grew more frenzied, his strokes more demanding. Your head fell back, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock nudged at that soft muscle inside you that made your legs shake. Your walls tightened around him, a silent plea for more.

"You like that, don't you?" Joe grunted, his voice a gruff rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed as you moaned brokenly in response. His hand found the side of your face, tilting it to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning into your soul.

"Fuck yes, I do," you managed to gasp, your voice breathless with need. The feeling of Joe's thick cock filling you up was heavenly, the friction causing a delicious burn. You felt his thumb pressing against the side of your throat, a gesture that usually sent you over the edge, but tonight, you were holding onto the precipice, needing the climax to wash away the sting of his earlier words.

"Oh, baby, yes," you panted, your breaths coming in quick gasps. "Right there." The sensation was almost too much, but you craved it, needed it, to drown out the noise from the evening's loss. Joe's eyes darkened with hunger, and he pushed harder, deeper, hitting your g-spot with unwavering precision.

"I'm so sorry for earlier," Joe murmured, his voice a raw, passionate whisper. "You mean everything to me." His movements grew more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he worked to bring you to climax. You felt the walls of your pussy clench around him, your orgasm building with every stroke.

"You're always so good to me," you breathed, your voice a sweet symphony of pleasure. "Don't ever doubt that."

Your words hit Joe like a sucker punch to the gut, the weight of his emotions suddenly too much to bear. He kissed you again, a deep, desperate kiss that conveyed every ounce of his love and regret. His thrusts grew erratic, his body trembling with the effort to hold back his release. Your eyes widened with understanding, and you leaned in, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you matched his rhythm, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

"I'll spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you," Joe said between ragged breaths, his eyes searching yours for forgiveness. You knew he meant it, that his love was as unshakable as the determination that made him the star quarterback he was.

Your own climax was building, the pressure in your core growing with every thrust. You could feel Joe's cock swell even more, his grip on your hips tightening. The world outside your bubble of passion didn't matter anymore. Only this moment, your connection, your love, and the release that was so close.

"I forgive you," you whispered, your eyes brimming with emotion as you felt the beginnings of your climax. You squeezed your eyes shut, your body tightening around Joe's cock, your pussy fluttering with each stroke. "Can't help it when you make me feel so good," you added with a small, breathless laugh.

The sound of Joe's harsh breathing filled your ears as he drove into you, his movements becoming more frantic. You could feel the tension in his body, the need to come, to let go of the anger and the pain. You tightened your legs around him, your heels digging into his firm ass as you urged him on with your moans. Your bare chests pressed against each other, gasping desperately into each other's open mouths as your inaccurate, sloppy kisses grew more feverish.

"I need you to come, baby," Joe groaned into your ear, his voice desperate. "Need to make it up to you." 

You felt the tension coiling in her belly, the heat of Joe's breath on your skin setting your nerves alight. You knew he was close, could feel his cock pulsing inside you. With one final, powerful thrust, Joe's grip on your hips tightened, and he came with a roar, filling you with his hot, thick release.

Joe's movements slowed, his cock still pulsing inside you, his breathing ragged as he kissed along your neck. You giggled softly, the tension of the evening finally beginning to dissipate. "I've got you," you murmured, stroking his hair gently as he caught his breath. "You don't have to make it up to me."

With a final, lingering kiss, Joe pulled out of you, the connection breaking with a slick pop. He stepped back, his gaze lingering on your brown skin and the way your chest heaved with every breath you took. "But I want to," he said, his voice still thick with passion. "I need to."

You nodded softly as your hands reached up to cup Joe's face, your thumbs tracing the lines of his cheekbones. "I know you do, baby," you said gently. You leaned in to kiss him, your love washing over him with a gentle warmth that seemed to seep into his bones. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as your kiss grew more intense, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tangling with yours.

"Gonna eat you out until you can't think straight," Joe said, his voice gruff with lust as he lifted you off the counter, setting you feet down gently onto the plush bath mat then turning you to face the mirror on top of the counter. He dropped to his knees before you, his eyes tracing over your smooth skin as he kissed your spine, your thighs. You felt your legs wobble slightly, but you remained standing, your hands planted firmly on the counter for balance.

Joe's tongue traced a line up your inner thigh, the sensation causing you to quiver with anticipation. His hand found your ass cheek first, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving to the back of her thigh, urging your legs apart. Your breath hitched as his warm breath danced over your folds, the anticipation of his touch almost too much to handle.

"We taste so good together, baby," Joe murmured, his tongue darting out to tease your clit. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he began to feast on you. His tongue flicked and circled, his mouth suckling you in a way that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your juices mixing in with his cum still leaking from your aroused pussy.

The feeling of Joe's mouth on you was almost too much, the intimacy of the moment washing away the last remnants of the day's anger and frustration. Your legs began to shake, your breaths coming in short gasps as Joe's mouth worked its magic. You watched the movement of his head in the mirror, his eyes closed in concentration, his cheeks hollowing as he took you in.

Joe's tongue slid into you, the sensation so intense you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. Your nails dug into the countertop, the pain grounding you as you felt your orgasm building again. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you forget everything except the heat between the two of you. Your  hips began to rock against his mouth, your body begging for release.

"Yes," you moaned, your voice echoing off the bathroom walls. "Just like that, Joey." 

Joe's eyes snapped open, looking up at you through the wet strands of his hair, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you unravel. His tongue delved deeper, exploring your warmth, savoring your taste.

"I'm gonna make you come so hard," Joe whispered against you, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. You felt his tongue swirl around your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his mouth closed around it, sucking hard. You couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat, the sound echoing off the walls of the bathroom as you shuddered with pleasure.

"Shit—I'm gonna come," you whimpered, your knees buckling slightly as Joe's mouth worked its magic. He held you steady, his simultaneously pushing you firmly against the counter and keeping your ass spread wide for him, his mouth unrelenting. You felt your climax build, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Keep doing that," you panted, your body quivering as Joe's skilled tongue danced against your clit. You leaned heavily on the counter, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the orgasm build, the tension in your thighs and stomach tightening. Joe's grip on your legs was firm, his mouth relentless as he brought you closer to the edge.

Joe whispered against you again, "Love eating this perfect pussy, love making you come," and your eyes rolled back in your head, the sensation of his mouth on your clit overwhelming. The pressure grew unbearable, your legs trembling as you held onto the counter for dear life.

"Yes," you hissed through clenched teeth, your hips jerking in response to Joe's skilled movements. The pressure built higher and higher until you couldn’t take it anymore. With a strangled cry, you came, your body convulsing in the throes of ecstasy. Joe didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you were left panting and boneless against the counter.

He licked you through your orgasm, savoring the taste of your mixed pleasures as you trembled under his touch. Your legs gave out, and Joe supported your weight from his spot on the floor, his face still buried between your thighs. You leaned into him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax. With a final, lingering kiss to your sensitive clit, Joe stood up, his eyes locking with yours in the mirror. You felt the heat of embarrassment under his gaze, your heart racing from the intensity of yiur lovemaking. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice hoarse from your moans.

"Don't thank me," Joe said, his own voice thick with emotion. You laughed softly as his tongue darted out in an attempt to capture one last taste of you. "Let me help you clean up," you offered, turning in his arms. Your thumbs wiped the corners of his mouth, smearing a bit of your juices onto his cheeks. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go.

The two of you stepped back into the shower, the warm water cascading over your bodies, washing away the evidence of your passion. You took the loofah from the shower caddy, lathering it with Joe's favorite scented body wash—yours. You began to run it over his chest, your touch gentle as you worked your way down his body. His muscles relaxed under your ministrations, the tension of the evening dissipating with each stroke.

Joe's eyes remained on you, watching your movements with a quiet contentment that you hadn't seen in several long weeks. "You okay?" you asked softly, your voice echoing in the shower.

"Better," Joe murmured, his gaze dropping to your breasts, the water cascading over you, mixing with the soap. "Much better." He stepped closer, pressing you against the cold tiles, his hands taking the loofah from you. As the last of the soap fell from your bodies, Joe placed the loofah back in its caddy, his arms wrapping around your waist as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You felt your toes curl into the mat, your body responding to him without hesitation.

Your heated kisses waned off into slow pecks and gentle nibbles as the warm water rinsed the soap away. Joe's hands trailed down your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a tenderness that made your heart swell with affection. He whispered sweet words into your ear, his breath tickling your neck, and you felt a smile bloom on your lips as you leaned into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

"Mmm," you murmured, your eyes half-lidded with contentment as Joe's hands roamed your body. He took his time, savoring your curves, his thumbs grazing the sides of your breasts and sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands slid over his shoulders, feeling the strength and power beneath your fingertips, a physical reminder of the man you loved. There was no heat to your movements, no rush of sexual longing. Instead, it was a gentle exploration, a silent reassurance that you two were okay.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth pooling in your belly.

You chuckled, leaning your head against his chest. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true," Joe said, his voice firm. He kissed the top of your head, holding you close. You stood like that for a moment, the water falling over you. The anger and frustration of the evening had morphed into a gentle affection that filled the small space, dispelling any lingering tension.

The two of you finished showering, toweling off and wrapping yourselves in the plush robes that hung on the back of the door. As you brushed your teeth and ran through your individual night routines, Joe couldn't help but watch you move in the mirror. Your eyes sparkled with a softness that seemed to warm the room, and the way you moved, even in something as mundane as brushing your teeth, was mesmerizing.

Once you were both ready for bed, you crawled in, Joe pulling you into his arms. You lay there for a while, your legs entwined, just holding each other and listening to the steady beat of each other's hearts. The silence was comfortable, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos of emotions. You felt Joe's hand run down your side, his thumb tracing the curve of your waist before resting on your hip. You knew he was still thinking about the game, about his performance, but you didn't push. Instead, you offered your warmth.

"You know you played your best," you said after a few moments, your voice soothing as you stroked his chest. "It's just one game, Joe. You'll keep working, keep getting better."

Joe sighed, his blue eyes closed in an attempt to reach sleep. "I know," he said, his voice tight with exhaustion. "But I hate letting down the team, the fans, you."

You turned to face him, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You didn't let anyone down," you said firmly. "Sometimes, things just don't go as planned. It's not your fault."

Joe nodded, his eyes searching yours, looking for the reassurance he desperately needed. "Thanks, baby," he murmured, his voice soft with emotion. "I love you."

You leaned in and kissed him gently, your lips a gentle balm to his bruised ego. "You know I love you, too," you said, your voice a gentle whisper. "And I'm in this for the long haul. Win or lose, I'll be here for pity fucks and cuddles. Whatever you need."

Joe couldn't help but chuckle, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the sun. "Pity fucks, huh?" He teased, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of sad," you smirked, poking him lightly in the ribs. Joe's chuckle grew into a full-blown laugh, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. The sound was music to your ears, a melody of relief after the storm of emotions.

"Go to sleep, Joey. Tomorrow's a new day, and you're going to need your rest," you said, your voice soothing as you stroked his chest. Joe nodded, his eyes already drooping with exhaustion. The two of you lay there, your bodies entangled, until sleep claimed you both.

[lulunothulu]

Always Second Choice

A/N: I’ve been in such a fluffy mood omg. Please enjoy a fantasy I’ve been thinking about all day.

TW: PURE FLUFF, some alcohol use, sad boi hours, sappiness, BUT HAPPY ENDING 💗

“Why can’t I be someone that a person loves first?”

You’d had a wild night of drinking with Phoenix after running into your ex. Seeing him always made you want to go all out, mainly because you wanted to forget about him and what he did to you. It’d been a year since you caught him in bed with another woman and you still freak out whenever you run into him at the grocery store.

Tonight wasn’t an exception. You had called Natasha to come drink with you—who called Bradley and Jake—because you desperately needed to take shots of tequila after you saw your ex with the girl he cheated on you with. She was pregnant.

“Why couldn’t he have loved me?” You had cried after three shots. “Why wasn’t I the one he chose? Why am I always someone’s second choice?”

After another three and a half shots, Jake told you to call it night.

That was the thing about Jake, he was one of the best friends you could ever ask for. No matter what—or who— he was doing, he dropped everything to make sure you were okay and safe. It’s part of the reason why you fell for him, and hard. He was the first person you’d fully loved with your whole heart. But given that you both worked together and he saw you strictly as a friend, you knew it wouldn’t have worked. And then there was his man-whore ways. He wouldn’t give that up to be with someone—let alone you.

You had drunkenly told an extremely inebriated Nat and Bradley a sloppy goodbye before Jake scooped you up and over his shoulder and gentle walked and placed you in his truck.

He’s carried you up the stairs of your shared two bedroom house and gently laid you on your bed. Even helping you undress and put on an oversized t-shirt with some basketball shorts.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he told you before kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair.

“You promise?” You asked.

“I promise, darling.”

You had woken up with a startle and began to panic before realizing you were home and in your bed. Flashes of the night popped into your mind and you groaned before remembering that Jake was on the floor of your room.

“Jake,” you whisper. You knew he’d still be there. He promised he would.

“Yeah?” He groggily whispers back. He must’ve been asleep.

“Why did you bring me home? Don’t you have people to see?”

“Kinda,” he groans as he sits up from the carpeted floor and turns to look at you with squinted eyes. “And I brought you home because you were babbling at the bar.”

“Oh, why are you still here? I thought you were on a date?” You ask.

“You remember that?” He chuckled. “You had nearly seven shots.”

“It’s all kinda popping into my mind,” you admit. “I’m sorry I kept you from her, whoever she was.”

“It’s fine. I was gonna cancel our hookup anyway.”

“Why?” You dared to ask.

“I had better things to be doing,” he says, turning those green eyes on you with so much kindness, you felt like you were melting.

You turn away abruptly and nod, feeling your hair fall around your face. You feel Jake’s fingers brush against your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile.

“Now what did you mean at the bar?” Jake asks. “You know, about being someone second choice?”

You hesitate. As much as you loved Jake, you damn sure were not going to be telling him this...at least not now.

"Nothing, I was drunk as hell," you say instead.

Jake lifts a brow before sighing and standing from the floor, looking down at you from the side of the bed. "Scoot over, the floor is hard as fuck."

You laugh but scoot over, allowing Jake to climb into bed with you with a loud sigh. His arm brushes next to your arm before settling on top, his hand squeezing yours.

"You're my first choice," he whispers.

Your heart flutters at the thought of being his first choice but then stops when you realize he probably means it in a platonic way.

"Thanks," you mutter. "At least I'm someone's first choice."

Jake shuffles to face you, a frown forming on his brow. "I mean it, Y/N. You're my first and only choice."

"Okay, Jake." You're not convinced but at least the heart was in the statement.

"Y/N," he starts, cupping your face. "Why do you think I cancelled my date?"

"To take care of my drunk ass," you chuckle.

"No," he smiles. "Because I'd hate to know Bradley's hands were the ones drying your tears, dressing you. I hate the thought of having anyone other than me taking care of you. You're my girl."

"Your girl?"

"My number one," he starts. "My day one. My ride or die. My love. Don't think I haven't noticed how annoyed you get when I'd pick up girls at Hard Deck."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe Jake was telling you this, that he noticed your annoyance.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

He caresses your cheek before whispering, "You know why."

"No, I don't," you whisper back.

"Then let me show you."

Before you can react, Jake is sitting up and pressing his lips onto your forehead. He peppers kisses down your cheeks and nose before hovering over your lips. He’s panting softly, smiling down at you before he fully leans in.

His soft lips brush against yours and tentatively peck at them. Only when you wrap an arm around his neck does he deepen the kiss, smothering you in the best way imaginable.

His lips are wander and explore yours like an archeologist would an Egyptian tomb. His tongue pushes past your lips, wrestling with your own the taste of alcohol mixed with something sweet lingering.

Jake snakes his hand to the back of your neck, cradling your head in his hand.

“Oh, Y/N.” He moans into your mouth. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you.”

See to him, you’ve been the girl he’s been dreaming about. The one he thinks of before he goes to bed. The one he needed to distract himself from because he didn’t feel like you had feelings for him. He’s loved you from the very moment you walked onto the tarmac and chewed his ass out for flying recklessly. He’s loved you every day, every minute, every second.

Only now, when he saw you crying about being chosen second, did he think to make his move.

To hell with the friendship. He wanted more.

“Jake,” you breathlessly reply when he kisses down your neck. “You can’t mean that. It’s the alcohol talking.”

He stops kissing you, looking deep into your eyes and turning serious.

“Y/N, when I tell you I’ve been waiting to kiss you, I mean it. From the moment you walked onto the tarmac two years ago, to now. Now god damnit, let me kiss you.”

So you did.